Chapter Text
“One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine… nine and a half… nine and three-fucking-quarters. Goddamn it, Kim Taehyung.” Jungkook hears Taehyung’s stupid giggle through the soft haze of alcohol that has muffled his world. Namjoon reaches over in a half-hearted attempt to grab the bottle before Taehyung can finish the rest of the soju, but it's gone in a slurp and a burp. The smug look on Taehyung’s face is enough to send Jimin collapsing in a fit of laughter, flinging his body gracelessly onto some of Seokjin’s pillows where they’re strewn across the floor.
“You snooze, you schmooze, as they say.”
“Nobody says that,” Namjoon mutters before everyone is talking over each other, debating what the saying actually should be. Jungkook turns his head and catches Jimin’s eye from across the room. They both know well enough to stay out of the fray.
“Enough,” Yoongi calls eventually. “You bums came in and drank all of my alcohol, now you are stinking up my living room.” The others grumble good-naturedly while Hoseok squirms around on the floor making sad puppy noises. “Now it’s four in the goddamn morning, and I want you all to leave me in peace.”
“But I live here too,” Seokjin says. “We are literally on my couch right now.”
“Hyung, that’s not the point.”
Seokjin sniffs. “I’m just saying.”
That’s how Jungkook finds himself standing outside at four in the morning, hands shoved deep in the pockets of his worn-out jeans. Jimin stands next to him, bouncing on the balls of his feet to stay warm. “You should come back to my place for a while, Jungkookie. The subway doesn’t open for another couple hours.” There is something in Jimin’s voice, an edge that’s usually smooth. It’s been there all night, but Jungkook knows better than to mention it. He figures it’s something to do with Boram-noona and it’s best not to ask.
“Okay, Hyung,” Jungkook says easily, just like he always does. Namjoon made some comment last week about how Jungkook would follow Jimin into the sun if he asked, but Jungkook doesn’t think of it as a bad thing. It’s Jimin. And where Jimin goes, Jungkook will follow.
Jimin lets them in to his cozy little apartment tucked away in a back alley that always smells vaguely of melon bread from the bakery next door. Jungkook can hear him shuffling around before the lights pop on. “You want to try catching a couple hours of sleep before you head home?” Jimin asks, plopping his keys in the little dish with a jingle.
Yawning, Jungkook shakes his head. “Nah, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”
Jimin rolls his eyes but they both know each other’s fucked up sleep schedules by heart. “Okay, hot stuff. Suit yourself.”
“You’ll entertain me—right, Hyung?” Some of Jungkook’s fondest memories consist of late nights with Jimin curled up on the overstuffed couch, reading comics or watching game shows, Jimin’s fingers carding through his hair; Jimin’s smug smile as he steals snacks out of Jungkook’s bowl as Jungkook very pointedly pretends not to notice; Jimin loudly professing he has no interest in winning the video game only to pout sulkily when he loses; Jimin getting more and more animated as he explains the plot of the newest webtoon he’s been reading, feeling guilty when he accidentally spoils the ending even though Jungkook never had any intention of reading it. Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.
Yeah, Jungkook would follow Jimin into the sun without a second thought.
“Oh please, I bet you couldn’t even last 5 minutes.”
Jungkook is offended, okay? He is a goddamn stallion in bed if anyone asks. They’re sitting on the overstuffed couch side by side, half pretending to watch a movie but mostly just shooting the shit. “Hyung, are you seriously saying I am a minute man? What the fuck? I could last for days if I wanted. I’m like… like—fuck what’s that one dude’s name?” He thinks for a second, combing through all the obscure music references stored in his head. “Sting, or whatever?” Sting, that’s it. “Yeah, I’m like fucking Sting. Tantric and all that shit,” he says, crossing his arms a little petulantly.
Jimin looks unimpressed. “Do you know how ridiculous you sound right now? Like Sting? Really?” With a sly grin, Jimin runs a hand through his hair just like he always does before cutting Jungkook down to size. The flashing lights of the television highlight the sharp cut of his jawline and the gentle slope of his nose, making him look otherworldly. “Maybe we call you ‘bunny’ for a reason.”
What? Oh. Oh no. “I thought that was because of my teeth!”
“Sure, Jungkookie,” Jimin says in an obnoxiously patronizing voice, patting Jungkook’s thigh. “Sure. Think whatever you want.” Tipping his head back and tapping his chin, he pretends to think. Jungkook knows him well enough to guess the pause is purely for dramatic effect. “But if I remember correctly, I didn’t even have to touch you that time we fooled around. You just came in your pants, rutting against my thigh like a teenager.”
Okay, now Jungkook really is offended. Who does Park Jimin think he is? They were both a little more drunk than they should have been, and everyone knows nothing counts when you’re drunk. Plus, they both agreed never to talk about that night again, the whole thing barely a blur of heat and pleasure in Jungkook’s memory. It was a one-time thing—Jungkook knew that even as Jimin crawled into his lap and kissed him silly. One night of lowered inhibitions and bad decisions, all because Jimin felt horny and alone after breaking up with Boram-noona who apparently had a fiancé the entire time they were dating. All because Jungkook had offered to distract him. All because Jungkook was so, so gone for Park Jimin and always would be. “What do you know?” He wants to say something mean and hurtful just like Jimin, but nothing comes to mind. “I bet I could last forever. I bet I could go for hours and be fine.”
How did they get here? How did they even get to this conversation? Jungkook isn’t sure, but Jimin’s cat-got-the-cream smile is nothing but pure sin and Jungkook knows he just played right into Jimin’s tiny hands.
“Hmmm,” Jimin hums, looking smug. “Alright, Jungkookie. Let’s make a deal, since you are so keen on betting.” Shifting, Jimin twines their hands together, playing with Jungkook’s fingers and looking up through his eyelashes like he does when Jungkook watches him flirt with pretty girls. “I bet I can get you to beg me. I bet I can get you to beg me to let you come.”
Something drops heavy like a stone in Jungkook’s gut. “Yeah right, Hyung,” he says hesitantly. It’s not his fault if his cock swells a little at the thought. It’s not his fault if he’s thought about Jimin’s tiny hands and slick mouth in the dark, silent moments late at night, fantasy after fantasy leaving him dizzy. “There is no way you could get me to beg.”
After all their years of friendship, Jungkook really should have learned to never tell Park Jimin he couldn’t do something. “Okay, then let’s make it official,” Jimin says, leaning forward to stress the importance. “If you last longer than, let’s say… five hours without begging me to let you come, I’ll call you Hyung for a week. But, if you break and say please like a good boy, I win and you do what I say for a week. And you can’t come before saying please—okay, Jungkookie? I promise it will feel good.”
Holy shit. Five hours? Jungkook gulps. He’s not sure he has ever lasted more than one. Regardless, “Get ready to call me Hyung,” he says with as much false bravado as he can muster.
It’s easy at first; simple. Nothing they haven’t done before in a drunken haze.
Jimin climbs onto his lap again. His thick thighs are a little distracting where they press against Jungkook’s hips, bracketing him in, but it’s nothing Jungkook can’t handle.
They kiss for a good long while, just the simple slide of lips and tongue that Jungkook has grown to appreciate. Grown to crave, if he is being honest. And Jimin is—fuck, Jimin is an amazing kisser. Of course he is, with lips like that. The intimacy of it all is perfect. Jimin is warm in his lap, both soft and hard in equal measure, smelling of laundry detergent, fresh soap and the fading hints of his cologne. He tastes sweet like the chocolate ice cream they just ate. Jungkook has always thought of kissing as a means to an end, a precursor to the good stuff, but this is… He could kiss Jimin for hours.
Jimin lazily mouths down along his jaw line until he can suck a little bruise into the sensitive spot beneath Jungkook’s ear. It’s good.
Like the cheeky bastard he is, Jimin sneaks a hand between their bodies, palming at Jungkook’s cock lazily through the soft material of his sweatpants until he is nice and hard. It’s really good.
“I want this off, hm?” Jimin plucks impatiently at the Stussy shirt Jungkook had thrown on just for the purpose of their group hangout. “I want to see you.” His small hand dips under the hem, running knuckles over the ridges of Jungkook’s abs. “Want to feel you.” And how can Jungkook say no to that? They separate briefly, both shucking their shirts before falling back together, skin on skin. It’s really, really good.
Jimin dips down further, tongue lapping at the hollow of Jungkook’s neck. Their bare chests brush as they slide together, and a lance of something sweet in his belly has Jungkook gasping. With a cock of his head, Jimin gives him a once over like he wants to know what caused it. Slowly, painfully slowly, he leans forward again and licks a thick stripe over Jungkook’s nipple, smirking at the shiver that crawls up Jungkook’s spine. “Such a sensitive boy.” His eyes darken, looking mesmerized as Jungkook moans helplessly, pushing his chest forward towards Jimin's mouth, presenting himself as an offering. "God, that's hot. We’re gonna—” Jimin pauses, grinding down against Jungkook’s thigh. “Fuck, we are going to explore that later."
The sight of Jimin sliding down to his knees is one Jungkook will remember for a long time. He looks flushed, a pretty, bashful pink. Jimin’s lips are swollen from kissing, and just thinking about them wrapped around his cock is enough to get Jungkook moaning again. He’s spent the past year stubbornly trying not to think about that mouth, those fingers, but now that Jimin is kneeling in front of him, Jungkook feels himself cave.
Jimin grabs him by the hips and scoots him forward until he is on the edge, dipping forward to tease him through the thin material of his sweats, mouthing at the hard curve of his cock and getting the cotton all wet until Jungkook is panting for it. Standing up on shaky legs, Jimin pulls hard at the hem of Jungkook’s sweats. “Off, off, off,” he mumbles. It takes some fumbling, but eventually Jimin gets Jungkook naked and spread out on a nearby chair, breathless and ready. There is a blossoming warmth inside him like after taking a shot of good, hard liquor. It’s a sweet ache.
With an entirely too self-assured smirk, Jimin runs a thumb in slow circles over the thin skin of Jungkook’s hipbones. “You’ve got such a pretty cock, Jungkook-ah. A pretty cock for a pretty boy. Always thought so.”
God.
Jungkook whines high in his throat. Jimin thinking about his cocks is—God, it’s fucking hot.
Jimin leans forward to nuzzle into the v of Jungkook’s hip, so close to where Jungkook needs him most. “Want me to touch you? Want me to make you feel good?”
It is with a small shake and a considerable amount of effort that Jungkook reels himself back in, reminding his dick that this is all in the name of a bet and we shouldn’t get too excited. After all, pride is on the line.
“Only if you want.” Jungkook aims for nonchalant, but it comes out a bit too strangled to be convincing.
Jimin quirks a perfect brow. “Right,” he drawls.
In retrospect, that was probably the beginning of the end.
Jimin’s got him gagging for it and it’s only been twenty minutes.
Such a goddamn tease, with the way he glides his palms along the curve of Jungkook’s thighs, up his flat stomach until he can sink fingernails into the swell of his pecks and oh, oh, oh that’s a good pain. Jungkook grits his teeth as the muscles in his thighs start twitching.
With a little hum, Jimin licks a wet stripe up his palm before wrapping short fingers around Jungkook’s cock again. They work him up and down so perfectly, quick tugs and a cheeky twist. It’s slick and hot and so good Jungkook can barely stand it.
He must make some kind of choked off, needy little whine, because Jimin surges up to kiss him quiet. Vaguely, Jungkook thinks he should probably be worried about their bet given how close he is, but Jimin starts palming insistent circles across the top of his cockhead and everything flies out the window.
Jimin just smiles his angel smile. “I’m gonna wreck you,” he sighs happily.
“Come on, Jungkook-ah. If you don’t stop moving, I’m going to have to tie you up.” Jungkook stops breathing and his dick gives a hard kick in Jimin’s hand. “Oh, you like that? You want Hyung to tie you up, Jungkookie?” Jimin sounds amused and just a tad sadistic. Jungkook moans, squirming some more, embarrassed by his own reaction. “Who knew you were such a kinky little shit?”
Jimin produces a few lengths of cloth from the depths of his closet. Jungkook doesn’t get a good look at them, but they feel like the silk of a fancy necktie as Jimin wraps them around his wrists and legs, binding him to the chair so that his legs are spread, cock exposed. An experimental tug proves that they are secure—snug but not too tight.
“Look at you, tied up so pretty. My pretty present.” Bound as he is, Jungkook feels a rush of adrenaline as the silk bites into his skin.
Jimin sighs a bit, kissing the inside of Jungkook’s knee before resting his head there. His strokes have become lazy, a little sloppy. It feels like they’ve been here for hours, but when Jungkook glances at the clock, it’s only been 45 minutes. “My arms are tired, Jungkookie. Do you want to just fuck my mouth, hmm?”
That mouth, “Fuck yes!”
“Just kidding!” Jimin’s eyes go soft and smiley, his cheeks bunching up cherub-sweet. What a fucking menace.
Frustrated, Jungkook slams his back against the chair. He wants it, goddamn it. “Come on—make me come!”
Frowning, Jimin scrunches up his nose. “Getting mouthy now, are we? You know what you have to say in order for me to make you come.” Jimin stands, grabbing Jungkook roughly by the cock. It’s so much—Jungkook can’t hold back his tortured groan. “I am going to make a snack. You are going to sit here all tied up and think about how much you want to come and what you need to say in order for me to let you.” A nasty Cheshire grin comes over his face. “You are going to think about me sucking your big, thick cock, crying because it’s too much but begging you for more. You are going to think about fucking my throat until I come untouched just from the way you use me. How does that sound?”
Sounds like torture, actually. Sounds like Jungkook is totally fucked, but not in the way he wants to be.
Jimin won’t stop gently tapping on Jungkook’s balls as he jacks him off and it’s driving Jungkook up a wall with how good it feels, each tap like a jolt of pleasure shooting his self control to hell and back. The tingles at the base of his spine have become a throbbing ache. “You feel so full, so heavy.” Jimin rubs at them now, rolling them between his fingers almost mindlessly. “Is it good, Jungkookie?”
“S—oh—so good,” Jungkook grits out through his little gasps and hiccups.
“Stop! Stop! I’m so close! So close!”
Jimin takes a step back as Jungkook tries to calm down his frantic breathing. His eyes are hungry as they rake over Jungkook’s heaving chest and down to his straining cock. “Oh fuck, Jungkookie. You look so pretty all tied up like a present just for me.” Jungkook’s eyes snap up to see Jimin with a hand stuffed down his own pants, the outline of his knuckles clear where he grips his cock, stroking slowly. He’s got the wickedest smirk on his face, and Jungkook knows it can’t mean anything good. “So even if you can’t get off, I still can.”
No. Fucking no. “What?! Hyung, you can’t do that. It isn’t fair!”
Jimin, the bastard, just laughs at him. “I don’t think you’re in any position to be telling me what to do right now—oh fuck,” Jimin curses as his head tips back in pleasure.
Fuck, this is torture! Listening to Jimin’s soft groans, his sharp intake of breath—Jungkook can almost imagine it’s him making Jimin sound like that. If he would just come closer, Jungkook could touch him. Jungkook could feel all that soft skin and hard muscle that has been haunting his dreams for what seems like forever. “At least let me see you, Hyung.”
“If you insist,” Jimin says with a smirk, always ready to put on a show. He shimmies out of his sweats until he is left in nothing but his tight boxer briefs. Even through the hazy dimness of the room, Jungkook can see the dark patch where Jimin has been leaking all over himself. His mouth feels suddenly dry.
Jimin turns around so he is facing away from Jungkook, throwing a coy look over his shoulder as he sways his hips to some imaginary music. His thumbs tuck under the waistband of his underwear, snapping them teasingly before he decides to deal the killing blow. Jimin bends over, presenting his ass perfectly for Jungkook’s viewing pleasure as he drags his briefs first over his round cheeks and then down his thick thighs, the elastic of the waistband cutting into his pale skin just a bit.
Now, Jungkook considers himself a man of excellent self-control. He budgets his money, brushes his teeth after every meal, and never misses leg day. But Jimin is in another league entirely. He looks so good, it should be illegal. For the first time, the word please is so close to the tip of Jungkook’s tongue he has to bite his lip to keep it from slipping past.
Jimin turns back around with a devilish smirk on his face. He knows exactly what he is doing. Jungkook gives an experimental tug on his restraints, but they hold firm. He feels helpless as Jimin saunters over again, stopping only a few centimeters outsides Jungkook’s range of movement.
That’s when Jimin bends down a little so his nose brushes the shell of Jungkook’s ear, breath hot where it puffs against his neck. “I think about sucking you off sometimes. I wanna know what you taste like. Wanna choke on your cock, Jungkook-ah. Want your hands in my hair holding me down.” Jimin hums like he is really thinking about it. “I’d let you fuck my face. I’d let you come down my throat and then I would beg for more.” Jimin’s voice is wrecked, gravely with pleasure. His Busan accent is so strong, it sounds like a growl.
“Fuck!” Jungkook slams his back against the chair, trying to get some leverage. “Fuck, Hyung—untie me! Let me touch you. I’ll give you everything you need.” He fixates on Jimin’s plush mouth, swollen and slick from where Jimin has been biting it. What would it feel like to have those lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him in to that tight heat? Jungkook swears to himself he’ll find out soon.
Jimin gasps as he reaches a shaky hand up to comb fingers through his own hair. It flops back down over his forehead in soft waves, looking perfectly mussed. The gesture is so familiar, so achingly Jimin that Jungkook has to catch his breath. He never knew he wanted to run his fingers through Jimin’s hair so badly until this very moment. “Want your cock, Jungkook-ah. I keep on thinking about how it would feel inside me, how you could fill me up so well. I’d be nice and sore after—I just know it. I know you could give it to me better than anyone else,” Jimin whines as he works himself up.
A sweet lick of red-hot fire surges through Jungkook’s belly. God, but he wants it too. He does, he realizes. He wants it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Jimin!”
“Want you so deep. Want you everywhere,” Jimin moans. Tingles shoot up Jungkook’s spine and he can feel his cock jerking where it kicks against his stomach.
“Stop! Stop! I’m gonna—“
“Oh fuck, oh fuck! Just like that! I want it just like that.” Jimin’s voice is breathy and rough and so fucking sexy. Just the sound of him has Jungkook harder than he’s ever been. “I want you to fuck me so hard I can’t remember her name.”
Jungkook growls low. “I’ll fuck you so hard you can’t even remember your own name.” That bitch never deserved Jimin. How could she? How could she? Jungkook would never hurt him. Jungkook would do everything in his power to make sure Jimin never hurt again. "Let me give it to you, Hyung. Let me make you feel good."
With a groan, Jimin falls to his knees, his hips thrust out proudly as he pulls at himself with rough tugs. He looks like a desperate mess, all red and blotchy and beautiful. “I gonna come, Jungkook! You’re gonna make me come! Oh please, oh please!”
Jungkook wants to go to him so badly in that moment it is a physical ache. He tugs harder at his restraints, feeling the bite of the silk where it cuts into his wrists and ankles. He’s falling apart. “Jimin!”
The world goes a little fuzzy as hot tears fill his eyes.
“I can’t do it anymore, Hyung. I need it so bad!”
“Just beg for it, baby. All it takes is one little word and I’ll give you everything you want. Come on, baby boy. What’s the word I want to hear?”
“I can’t, I can’t, I can’t!”
“Fuck, it feels so good. Don’t stop, don’t stop—“
“Hyung, I’m so close. Oh, you’ve got me so close—“
“Oh Hyung, oh Jimin-hyung—“
Hot tears running down his cheeks as he tries desperately to hold it in. The bite of nails into the tender skin of his palm where his hands are clenched into fists. His hips working helplessly into the air, into nothing. “Want it. I want you so bad, Jiminie-hyung,” Jungkook cries out.
Jimin just smiles. “I know.”
All of Jungkook’s muscles are tensed, his biceps corded out from where he has the edge of the chair in a death grip, knuckles white. He can’t keep his hips from rocking up into Jimin’s tight fist. The slide is so wet now, his cock practically white with slick. Everything feels tender and raw. The sweetest pain.
“You’ve been hard for hours, Jungkookie. You’re so thick in my hands,” Jimin whispers, his voice almost hoarse. Jungkook glances at the clock to check the time. It’s been almost two hours now. The gauzy curtains in Jimin’s living room glow with the soft light of dawn. “Does it hurt, baby?”
Breath hisses through Jungkook’s teeth as Jimin changes grip, thumbing maddening circle against the head of his cock. It’s too much, too sensitive. “Hurts, hyung. Hurts so bad.” Jungkook knows he sounds whiny, but his whole body aches with the need to come.
Jimin just smiles serenely even as his hand speeds up. His cheeks bunch up sweetly as he tilts his head. “Do you want me to stop, Jungkookie? Do you need a break?”
That’s the last thing Jungkook wants. He wants to reach that peak he can feel lingering hazily in the corner of his mind, in the burning ache inside him. He wants to tip over that razor edge and fall until he is nothing. He wants it so bad he can taste it on his tongue. Jungkook feels a sharp tug deep in his belly, a pressure too good to ignore. “No, I—oh fuck! Oh fuck, oh Hyung—I can’t! Jimin!” He’s going to come; he’s going to—
Jimin pulls away.
“God fucking dammit!”
Jimin just smirks, that motherfucker. “Just breathe, baby. Pull it back. I know you can do it.” Jungkook still shivers at the way Jimin calls him baby.
“God, so close. So close, so close, so closesoclosesoclose,” Jungkook mutters, a little hysterical and so, so far gone.
Innocent eyes, wicked smile. Soft hands, rough grip. Perfect boy, terrible mess.
The fire in his belly is a hot, pulsing thing, burning right behind his navel. Jimin has taken to sucking gently on his nipples, just flicking his tongue casually as he continues to run fingers up and down Jungkook’s inner thigh. Every once in a while, the fingers will stray from their path, coming up to rub at Jungkook’s balls or press into his perineum.
Everything is hazy—dull in comparison to the pleasure and pain thrumming through his veins. Someone’s moaning. It’s probably him.
“Still with me, Jungkook-ah?” That’s Jimin’s voice, but it sounds so far away. A sharp tug on his ear and Jungkook comes back to himself a bit, feels his mind settle back into his body. “There you are, hm?” Jimin hums, petting his hair a little. “Sweet boy.”
Jungkook preens at the praise, nuzzling into Jimin’s hand. He’s not sure what has gotten into him, but he finds himself wanting reassurance and affection.
As if reading his mind, Jimin continues. “You’re so strong, Jungkook-ah. You’ve lasted so long. But it’s hard, isn’t it? You want it bad, don’t you, baby?” Jimin’s wicked fingers skim over the dips and planes of his abs now, down, down, down until one finger—one tiny pinky—strokes down the thick vein on the underside of his cock. Jungkook shivers. “But I can’t wait forever, Jungkook-ah. Won’t you let me hear you beg? Beg like a good boy.”
Something in Jimin’s eyes shifts, no longer soft and warm. A funny little smile flirts with the corner of his mouth like sin on a hot day. Jungkook thinks about kissing him something fierce. Slowly, Jimin wraps his fingers around Jungkook’s cock, holding still like he just wants to feel the warmth.
Then, he moves.
God, does he move. It’s—oh, it’s too much. Jungkook quivers, pinpricks along his skin. Shit, he is right on that razor edge again, his stomach muscles drawing tight and his eyes wet with tears. Something pulls hard at the base of his spine.
This time, a frenetic energy courses through him, leaving him shaking and weak, ready to shatter into a million pieces. Everything is sensation. And Jimin is there for all of it, stroking him hard and fast. It hurts so good.
“Look at you, my beautiful little mess.” Jimin croons, hand a blur as it works along Jungkook’s cock. “God, I wish you could see yourself, all shaky and desperate for me. You’re so fucking pretty when you cry.”
Oh God, oh God! Jimin, he—and it’s—Jungkook needs—he needs something. There is no stopping it. There is no stopping the wave of feeling crashing through him. But he can’t disappoint Jimin, he can’t—
“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Jungkook can’t, he just can’t. It’s too much. It’s not enough. He’s going to—“Oh please, please—Jimin! Make me come! Please—I need it—Jimin—“
He’s gasping. He’s begging.
He broke.
“Oh, Jungkookie, you said it.” Jimin’s hands stop out of pure shock and Jungkook can’t help but sob. Startled back into action, Jimin drops to his knees with a small thud, shuffling forward until he can kiss up the length of Jungkook’s thigh, fingers rubbing soothing circles into his hipbones.
“Pleasepleasepleaseplease,” Jungkook blubbers, unable to think past the sheer needy desperation he feels ripping like fire throughout his whole body.
Jimin’s hot mouth is now on his cock and Jungkook thinks he might die, might just expire on the spot. “Yes, yes, Jungkook-ah. Come for Hyung.”
And finally—finally, finally, finally—Jungkook gives in. He surrenders helplessly as the pressure inside him releases like a gunshot, the blowback sending his entire body into hyper-drive. His vision goes hazy—a little fuzzy around the edges as his world narrows down to a single feeling. Distantly, he registers the sound of screaming before everything goes dark.
It is, quite possibly, the sweetest relief he has ever known.