Work Text:
i want to disappear .
A pause. The flicker of time as it passes, undecided if it’s going to stick around for the fun of it or fuck off into the unknown. He backspaces and tries again. Something more…profound on the tips of his fingertips if he tries hard enough.
i want to disappear maybe.
Taehyung stretches until his shirt lifts over his stomach and exposes the softer bits of him. He takes a drag of his cigarette and waits for the ash to burn the inside of his chest, filtering scum onto the contours of his lungs until there’s nothing left. It’s a shit habit, he knows, but he’s a shit boy. They know. But they accept him, because they kind of have to.
It’s not profound because it’s a lie. He’s your usual sunny protagonist with a wide smile and he’s well aware of the conflicts. Sunshine boy / wide man, thick hands meant for tracing the outsides of someone’s softer thighs. Hairy thighs, because he’s into that.
He runs his tongue over his teeth ( ou should stop smoking) and feels his afternoon tea enjoying a relaxing vacation over the course of his enamel. He has all the time in the world to push his fingers into the keys and write something provocative, but he can do something better than that. He can get on his hands and knees and wag his ass in the air, and his viewers will scream for it and beg to see his face. let me see that face, baby, they’ll write in the chat, let me see your mouth.
Taehyung raises his arms above his head and stretches. He grabs one bicep and tugs on it until his shoulder gives a nice round pop, and then does the other one until it repeats the sound. His skin is soft where it’s been hidden beneath fleece for the last two hours. He’s been dilly-dallying, shilly-shallying. Avoiding life consequences.
He’s got a text from his dad saying it’s time to call his mom. There are bonus texts from his little brothers pouting that he didn’t visit that weekend, but he was busy. Writing or something, doing whatever it is college kids do to waste their time to avoid starting down a failing grade in the face.
The downside to life seems to be that Taehyung has tattooed a permanent failure across the backs of his knuckles. He shows them off when he thinks no one’s looking, but that’s just how he is. He’s a smart kid, a little genius branded by the creativity of his heavy eyelashes, but that’s just taking the piss.
Some car backfire outside, but it’s enough to scare the shit of him. Taehyung reaches for his rosary but barks out a harsh life when he hobbles over to his window just to take a peek. He’s smashed his toe against the corner of his desk, like a clumsy shit. It throbs with each shake of the fist someone downstairs gives, inevitably mouthy about the distraction of the day. One of those people who can’t find happiness in anything, so he drums his fingers against the wood windowsill.
‘Yeah,’ Taehyung says out loud. ‘That’s just how it goes.’
Procrastinate a little harder, he tells himself. He grabs his laundry and raises it up, cramming the plastic bin against his hipbone. He takes it as far as the doorway before changing his mind, and then pushes it back to where it was. He’s been in this room all day, and the ramen proves that much at least.
There’s an engagement ring box sitting right on top of his pretty shelf, mocking him for his existence. It says, you should have tried harder with that smile , or sometimes, you should disappear .
Taehyung gives up and presses his finger against ENTER, enjoying the music the click makes. It takes him a while to get used to the feel of keyboards, because if he doesn’t like the sound it makes, he won’t use it. Can’t use it, because it throws him off. There’s something special about absent minds.
jimex takes at least thirteen years to respond. Taehyung reblogs a few posts every once in a while, laughs at a depressing meme that reminds him about the hollowness of life and all that jazz. Some glittered finger tips, and red dye in someone’s eye for the aesthetic. There are shadows of hands holding one another in the prettiest way, and it makes Taehyung ache. It makes him hollow too, and some shade of blue. The bluest shade of grey, or the greyest shade of blue. Both.
dude have you ever just been mackin on some pussy /
and then you realize /
you’ve got homework to do? /
did you realize you’ve got homework to do? /
Taehyung laughs harder than he has in four minutes. He pinches his abs until they stop pulling and aching like they’ll break out in song any minute, and that’s the joys of it.
In case someone’s wondering, they’re supposed to fuck today. Together. On camera. In Taehyung’s shitty small apartment with masks on to keep their closer friends from realizing how nasty they are together, and that’s such a gorgeous thought. jimex promised to get cum on his face.
It’s funny like that because Taehyung does have homework to do. He has lots of homework to do, and emails to respond to, and parents to call. But he’s going to be going down on some of the finest ass this side of nasty Tumblr until his lips are swollen and he thinks his throat is gone a little hoarse. And then jimex is going to fuck his throat and edge him until he’s leaking on his carpet, and it’s going to be great.
yeah , yeah it’s homework i gotta do
He switches over his browser to Youtube and watches a butterfly come out of its cocoon. It’s just like him when he wakes up every morning shivering from the cold and missing the shape of somebody. He reaches for his cigarette box and shakes out a stick, squinting when there’s nothing.
It’s just his luck he needs to get up and stretch his legs anyway. Take a small walk down to the corner store and buy some inappropriate things, like a pack of lube and condoms, because there’s nothing sexier than being protected. Then again, his url is taepie and that’s just mocking him. Taehyung shoves his feet into his borrowed Timberlands anyway and scuffs his feet all the way down a flight of stairs.
This is the part where he switches on the sex factor. He bites his bottom lips until they’re swollen and licks them so they shine. He lids his eyes and tilts his chin, shoving a hand in his too tight jeans so when he saunters, people cry about the length of his cock in that leather. He’s famous, with 10k to prove it.
He enters the store after five minutes of just fucking around outside, kicking at leaves and watching people walk by. They’ve not got a clue he’s gonna get so fucked tonight he’ll still be wearing a dumb grin the next day, and that makes his heart hammer.
The cashier is a familiar kid who looks terribly confused when Taehyung slides him his random assortment of goods. Lube, condoms—and fucking ramen of all things, but that should just be a given considering where they are. His name is Namjoon, and he wrinkles his nose in mild disappointment. He scans them anyway.
‘Got a wild night planned?’ he asks.
‘Ah, sure do,’ Taehyung replies, ‘or something like that. Did you finish that project for biochem?’
Whoops, there it goes. A flash of panic bright as midday, with a haunting realization in the back of a frozen gaze. Namjoon drops the lube straight down onto the floor near his feet while his mouth gapes open (close it, you look like a fish.)
It would be so damn humiliating if Taehyung wasn’t in the same boat. It’s crumpled up on his desk, the notes from his lab, and he hasn’t looked at the results since he’d taken them. He was too busy planning for things.
‘Well,’ Namjoon whispers, ‘shit .’
‘It’s okay, it’s not due until,’ Taehyung mumbles, ‘the 26th or something.’
Namjoon stares at him, dryly. ‘That’s this Monday.’
It’s not willingly, but it’s not unwillingly. A comfortable in between, maybe, if anything can be described that way. Things are more like a curse than a blessing, fingers wrapped tight in something slick and black with determination whittling away at the swell of his heart. A firm lump in his throat threatening to drag far away forever until there’s nothing left.
The sun is peering angrily through the clouds given the nice weather, through the windows of the shitty little shop. The rays are unrelenting and unyielding as they melts through Taehyung’s black tee all the way down to his insides. He breathes in the flowers and releases happiness, giddiness, and protects his heart with all he can manage. He should have known better, though. Happiness is evasive and hard to come by, and it slips through his fingers so often it might as well be water, leaving only drips when it abandons him.
‘Well,’ Taehyung says brightly. ‘Shit !’
It’s a little bit okay, just because it really doesn’t matter. He has all the time in the world to be adjusted to the conservation of his abilities, and right now they fall short of being able to do anything wonderful. He slides Namjoon enough coin to get him out of danger, flashes him a hesitant smile, and escapes back to the wilderness. A drip-drop of escapism right against his fingertips.
It’s not until he’s halfway back to his apartment, really only just a short block away that he remembers he didn’t buy his cigarettes. Taehyung burrows his fingers into the plastic bag just to rip a hole in it, because he’ll get them later.
He always does because it makes his voice that mysterious low. The brassy sound that gets him messages upon messages a day asking him if that’s his real voice, so he chokes out a hefty yes. Always that low. Lower than his expectations, and lower than the fall from a high.
There are clouds that put the bounce in his step, and he skips. The person yelling from earlier is still shaking their fist like that’s going to do anything, and it’s wonderful. Like that meme, about the old man yelling at a cloud. Taehyung knots his bag and pulls out his key, taking two steps at a time and pressing his palm against the door.
Exhilaration. The ending of a single rhyme. A mysterious being who pops in and out every weekend with a magical laugh, passing mail around. Taehyung tucks his slips further down and pretends to not notice the bills piling up. He’ll get them later, he always does—sliding cash in right at the last minute, sheepish grin, because he does things for money. Fuck, it doesn’t even make him sad that he fucks for money, ‘cause that’s his own thing. He chose it.
There’s an art form to getting fucked. Even more so, there’s a lot more work that goes into fucking than people think. Those are his jerky movements, hips burrowed deep against someone’s ass, and that’s what’s important. It’s what makes him what he is: big, tall, thin—fucking hung, apparently.
All the expectation in the world doesn’t stop the breath from catching in Taehyung’s throat the moment he pushes open his door, room 306 in a creaky mess. There’s a stranger on his bed with a boasting look, shoes already off and tucked neatly at the corner. Makes sense, he thinks, because he can’t really remember if he locked the door or not. The knotted bag slips from his fingers with a heavy thud.
The guy is jimex. Taehyung can tell just from the way those poor jeans wrap around those thick thighs, and the splay of his legs as he makes himself uncomfortable.
‘Don’t you have manners? Didn’t your mother tell you to lock the door when you leave?’
‘Shut up,’ Taehyung says, voice caught. ‘Maybe I was expecting this.’
Maybe, an understatement. Jimin is everything like what he blogs about. Some sunshine mysteriousness that goes beyond his recent hair dye, a melodrama grey usually reserved for the more questionable side of things. He’s thick everywhere, and wearing one of those wide tank tops in a maroon color. Taehyung squeezes his legs together and shivers. He’s lucky, so goddamn lucky .
‘I already set up my camera,’ Jimin says casually, ‘so I think I should go first.’
‘Uh, yeah,’ Taehyung stumbles, ‘you can go first.’
Go first, ass deep with his cock waiting. Taehyung bends down and grabs the thing he’d dropped, tossing them over to Jimin so he doesn’t have to look up. He doesn’t think. This is a strange moment (your Internet friends know more about you than your real ones) that doesn’t register the right way.
It’s what he expected, but maybe not what he wanted. There should’ve been something else that came first. A gawky date to a sushi bar where they pretend to order what they think they like, and laugh into each other’s shoulders until they’re drooling sake everywhere. An episode of Netflix and chill, Bob’s fucking Burgers playing in the background while no one pays attention.
Jimin pauses. ‘Dunno if you’re into that kinda thing, but if you want to eat my ass, I’m clean. Got papers and everything, so you can have some fine ass cuisine.’
Taehyung takes a moment. He’s not sure if it’s fine ass cuisine, like a compliment to the decadence that is probably one Park Jimin’s fine asshole. Or, if it’s fine ass cuisine like the actual ass itself and not the act of getting to shove his face full of it. He ponders.
When he doesn’t respond in enough time, Jimin reaches and prods Taehyung in the shin with his toe. It’s such an odd thing that Taehyung can’t help but wrinkle his nose, side stepping to avoid the mess and flopping onto the bed until he’s pressed right against Jimin’s side.
‘You’ve seen the gifs I reblog,’ Taehyung snickers. ‘I’m an ass man. A class man.’
‘A clean man?’ Jimin counters, a nice smirk.
And, yeah. That’s another thought. Another wonderful great thought that trails off at the end like a song that didn’t quite know how to resolve its catchy tune. But it doesn’t rhyme quite as well when Jimin says it, so Taehyung rolls his eyes and bites Jimin hard. On that bicep he’s been dreaming about.
‘I’m the cleanest man, you know,’ Taehyung says accusatorily. ‘I showered today and everything.’
if you kiss someone that smokes, you’ll taste an ashtray, people used to say. Taehyung watches with heavy eyelids as Jimin leans down anyway, licking a clean stripe across his lips and taking a deep breath. Anticipatory swirls, different from butterflies. It’s all for the sake of the camera, and Taehyung’s already trembling with excitement. He’s seen Jimin’s quads—he knows it can hurt.
what if i’m into you just for the fun of it? Taehyung closes his eyes against it. There’s still something casual about the way he leans into Jimin’s side, like they’ve known each other for years. A guardian angel in a sense, so he should be thankful. Like, thanks for not being a robber, or something. There’s a fondness set against his lips, but he should probably save it for later.
Much later. Taehyung imagines he’ll confess it when they’re nearly done with school with rings on their fingers. That’s when he’ll say it to himself, that Jimin is everything and more. The truth is, Jimin has already said it. Several times. It was a curious notion.
They don’t depart for a little bit longer. They’re supposed to, at least, be fucking or something. Taehyung is meeting all of Jimin’s little secrets etched into his skin by way of a curious mouth, and Jimin? He’s feeling something, nodding off into the distance with narrowed eyes. Full of emotion, and his skin smells a little like weed. It’s enough to make Taehyung’s mouth water.
‘There’s not a lot of ass deep, cock waiting going on right now,’ Taehyung says softly. Jimin smiles at that, like it’s a fuckin’ brilliant joke. ‘You gettin’ cozy?’
‘Gonna get real cozy in that tight ass of yours later,’ Jimin shoots back. ‘Think: taepie is going to get the creampie of his wildest dreams.’
Oddly enough, that’s the way to Taehyung’s heart. Make him a sloppy mess and he’s yours some way or another, so long as you promise to eat it out later. Taehyung rests his chin on his hand while he waits for Jimin to do something. Anything.
It’s terrible that the next part feels oddly romantic. The negligent fade-in fade-out of the typing line as it waits for something witty to be written. Jimin comes back with the room after messing around with things, holding Taehyung’s mask neatly in his hands. They should get naked first, but they don’t. That’s what makes it scary.
Still, Taehyung closes his eyes and tilts his chin up at the feel. Jimin’s hands are smooth and guiding where they press that shit plastic against his skin, crafting his disguise against his pretty features. He ties it behind Taehyung’s head with a little bow, with the shit silk making that fantastic slick sound. And after that? Jimin kisses him delicately, and it says more than it should.
Figures. The camera isn’t even on yet, the sap.
‘Sorry,’ Jimin whispers. ‘I just couldn’t resist.’
That’s more like it than late night romantic couplings accidentally scheduled in the middle of the day. It’s best for lighting that way, and Taehyung’s neighbors are going to complain either way. Jimin leans back, but Taehyung chases that mouth. It tastes like snowflakes.
‘Jimex gets the dicking of his life in this thirty minute film,’ Taehyung says. ‘He takes co-star taepie’s monster cock and finishes right on the lens of the camera. For just seventeen—’
Jimin laughs so hard his shoulders do that little shake thing. It’s adorable, even as Taehyung is pushing his tanktop up and over his head so it’s not so hard to remove later. He ties Jimin’s own mask there with careful hands, heart hammering in his chest (you two, keep it down! it’s not even eight in the afternoon yet—)
But it’s just like that. They begin and it’s surprisingly painless.
Jimin hits the camera’s power button and Taehyung gets up close and personal. He mouths along the edge of Jimin’s neck before he even manages to back away, fingers curious. Skating up the curve of a strong abdomen, teasingly dipping into Jimin’s navel before rising higher. A more substantial touch to his nipples, and enough Taehyung thinks he might get elbowed in the process.
This, because he wants Jimin to gif it. It’s the foreplay that makes people fall apart. Jimin’s been hard since he’s arrived but it’s nothing like this. A casual whimper just from the touch of it, already sensitive, so Taehyung tells him so. He laughs about as they back up, dropping when the backs of Taehyung’s knees hit the bed. Jimin drops into his lap like he belongs, carefree in the way he catches himself. The weight is welcome, after all.
It’s similar to the marge of summer becoming fall. Things cool down but remain spicy somehow, but beautiful as the colors fade. Taehyung’s a jerk—because he sucks a hickey right into Jimin’s skin, but it’s welcome nonetheless. Anything is.
This is how people become whole. There’s nothing more honest than nudity, and sex is a mixture of that. Confession and that sweet, welcome ammunition.
‘You weren’t kidding,’ Jimin hisses under his breath.
Yeah, that must be the monster cock speaking for itself. Taehyung would be embarrassed being hard this quick if it were anyone else, or if it weren’t his job, or something. Instead he moves a hand down to grab Jimin’s hip, urging him to press harder against it because he loves the friction. Anyone could, if they had someone as sweet as Jimin sitting in their lap.
It’s a compliment. A short jerk to Taehyung’s ego too, because he lives for compliments and shivers at that kind of one. A thank you is all he needs as well. The completion of being whole with someone, instead of two little spirits wandering around a big lost world. This is the kind of thing that leaves them hanging, and that’s something amazing. Jimin’s brave too. A kind of shining light made more intense, because he leads Taehyung’s hands right to the front of his jeans.
Right against his dick, thick against his zipper and making it strain as ridiculous as it seems. The tip a sticky mess right against where his pocket begins, and a little more than that. It makes Taehyung grin against his shoulder and bite down, liking the short gasp that comes along with it.
There are a lot of things that go along with it. The finer moments in life are those where people are the most exposed. Dazed happiness, frigid sadness, and that short cough of random deliriousness that makes people melt into two. It’s people buying their Snapchats just to get a flash of their dicks bright and early in the morning, or to hear low moans.
And that’s what Jimin gives them like he knows what people want. Taehyung’s help in the way that having someone there is helpful. There’s something giddy against the tip of his tongue, but he keeps it hidden away. Deep and dark.
He wants to disappear. Taehyung presses his forehead against Jimin’s shoulder and groans, tethered and interested.
‘Come on,’ Jimin says. ‘Come on, let me—’
‘Let me eat your ass,’ Taehyung interrupts.
It’s enough to get a shocked breath stuck in Jimin’s throat, judging from the way his mouth pops open at it. It’s funny in a way, because Jimin was expecting this. Papers of proof stashed right on Taehyung’s desk right next to the camera, and that’s just all it takes.
‘Yeah —’
Taehyung pops the buttons to Jimin’s jeans easily, squeezing his thighs and rubbing them through the fabric. He’s got a habit of that, you know. An interest . One day, a big strong someone is going to pin him down.
Maybe that day could be today. Jimin has the quads for it—
Focus. He does that, pushing Jimin’s pants down further and further. That’s until he’s squeezing Jimin’s ankle between his fingers, huffing at the awkward position, and nibbling Jimin’s skin where he’s able to. It’s soft, and it smells good (smells better than anything else in the world, you fucker.) There are mistakes budding right there in his chest.
Jimin kisses him again like a breath of fresh air, replenishing that toxic gas in his lungs. It’s fantastic with the way it burns all the way down his throat, like he’s swallowing exhaust instead. It makes sense, going deeper and deeper. Feeling and feeling until there’s nothing left.
Burnt embers that tease the skin and ruin them. Taehyung turns tanner underneath the sun until his skin is itching. Creeping and crawling and hardening, with lazy eyes and trusting fingertips. Jimin digs them against his shoulder blades, so he remembers to live.
Eating ass is a perfect introduction. Body, header. Conclusion. Spacing. Paragraph spacing, above all things. It’s an essay of words wiggled around someone’s tight ass, pushed in that ring of muscle to seek something out. Jimin’s skin smells like soap—just soap, with no fancy words to describe it. The boring kind. Taehyung closes his eyes against it.
Jimin’s hip bones taste like sharpness, and his abdomen skates under Taehyung’s tongue like fine ice. There’s a wonder too when it goes further, and Taehyung sucks another hickey against his skin. The soft area above his dick, hardened just like his muscle. Jimin jumps beneath the touch, an awkward noise crawling from the back of his throat until he’s dizzy with it. There’s something there people don’t talk about often, and it tastes good.
Like cotton candy rolling under his tongue, but prickly. Not as long as it could be, but long enough, and Taehyung invests himself in those curls just to hum against the skin again, smiling with his eyes when he glances up beneath his mask.
And (wow, you’re going to lose yourself if you stare too long) it makes him feel new. Brand new, sparkling and clean. A finely graded paper with flourished colors, so he grins beneath the stress of it and tastes down more. He skirts right beneath that cock, takes a bite against a supple thigh, and makes promises somewhere else no one can see.
‘Don’t—’ Mm, fuck. Sex sounds aplenty. ‘—tease me.’
Jimin’s tone of voice just opens him up for it. Breathless and begging, like he can’t stand having more than enough. A subtle drag on the complexities of life and all those things people are intolerant of. Instant gratification will be the end of the world, it’s his thesis, but Taehyung gives in to that shallow sound. That’s a broken, forgotten essay laying on the ground somewhere. His hand on Jimin’s hip is a guide for him to roll over, and from there he can begin.
There’s no utter divine taste once his tongue hits asshole, but god, it’s still welcoming. Taehyung lets his eyelashes flutter close, mask crammed awkwardly against his nose, but he eats. He’s a swell boy, tried and true, and Jimin gives the best wiggle of his hips when good things come around. Taehyung fumbles for the lube tossed somewhere on the bed again, and his heart rumbles.
And that’s just with one finger finding its way down to the root, twisting and curling for the sake of it. Everyone enjoys a pretty soundtrack, and Taehyung’s no different. He’d play a mixtape again and again if it caught his eye. Sinks right into his chest and pulls out a confession.
hey, i love eating your ass and maybe you too.
There’s a camera there showing the world everything, and Taehyung remembers at the last minute. Play it up a bit more, but he’s clumsy reaching to check the viewfinder, mouth slick. So he zooms in a little bit, and Jimin glances over his shoulder. Impatient, but worth it. It gives time for that same car outside Taehyung’s window to backfire.
Jimin jumps, strangely human.
Taehyung laughs until his lungs hurt.
Taehyung rests his cheek on Jimin’s ass cheek until he’s done and (sorry for wasting your time) is etched somewhere in a forgotten timeline. It’s the cursor again, blinking on and off while someone sits clueless in wonder. What comes next? Well, everything.
There’s a split decision to be made. Like, when you’re stressed and trying to decide whether or not you want to respond to someone’s text. If you open it, you’re fucked. You’ve got to respond. But if you don’t read it? Feign ignorance. Feign everything, especially when you’re three fingers deep in someone’s eyes and trying to pretend like it doesn’t make you—
Something or another. Jimin makes the prettiest noises when Taehyung curls a finger, does an evil twist with his fingers that seems to be bordering on too much, but just right. If it were any other day, and they had heartbeats in their eyes instead of tired college mistakes, perhaps he could do this for hours. Hours and hours until Jimin is cumming on his sheets, too busy babbling out curses and weakened due to how much he enjoyed it.
They got close to that when Taehyung presses in, condom nice and slick. The push in is nice and slick too, and it gives him time to notice other things.
Park Jimin has a freckle on the back of his neck. Taehyung’s mouth fits nicely on it, his tongue making a pretty painting around it. It’s small, and hard to notice if he’s not pressed right up against it. It’s hard to be too, because Jimin is arching his back and whimpering. Fingers fisted in the sheets, and legs quivering from the effort of staying up right.
‘God, fuck,’ Jimin whimpers, panting, ‘you’re so fucking big.’
It’s nothing new, but it’s a pleasure to hear. It goes right to Taehyung’s head and infiltrates everything about him until his heart is hammering in his chest. Play it on repeat, remember? He wants to learn the words to this song until he’s dizzy with it.
Taehyung’s thrust is a little rough the first push in, and it sends Jimin falling forward onto his chest. This ‘style is the best ‘style, because it gets the deepest. Taehyung smooths his thumb across Jimin’s lower back, humming gentle things until he relaxes, but it’s almost hard to do. He remembers the first time he experienced it himself, and it’s his favorite. Always has been, and he knows that it’s going to be overfilled and wonderful.
They pause. A click of a button on a remote, so that Jimin can adjust his mask over his eyes and pant a little bit, overheated but incredibly sexy. Sweaty sexy and shivering, so he’s given the cue. Thrust harder, fall harder. Taehyung’s dizzy with it, amazing little whines coming out of his own throat because Jimin is welcomingly wound around his cock. It’s all he can do to breathe.
Jimin moans and exhales, and Taehyung darts his tongue out to taste the air. He feels better now that the air is clean without smog, and he’ll take what he’s given.
Taehyung takes on his side too, eyes widened in awe as he watches. The camera is focused right on them, and everyone is going to love what they see. Jimin’s legs are wide and parted, thick cock bouncing between them with little moans to accompany the thrusts, and Taehyung is pressing their faces together like he can’t get enough. It’s the only way he can give Jimin the littlest kisses he deserves.
It’s perfect. Jimin’s feet curl the more he feels, and he gasps with it. Eyes closed even with the mask right there, fingers twisted and curl in the sheets, one hand over Taehyung’s where it’s grabbing at his stomach, the other leaned at the elbow against the sheets. Though he can, he’s not going to—cum untouched, that is, because Taehyung’s slicked up his palm and kept it right around Jimin’s dick just so he could play with the slick.
‘Fuck—fuck, god, I’m gonna—’
It’s last minute, but Taehyung notices the shape of Jimin’s ear. Round, and pricked full of tiny little holes for each of the bedazzled earrings he has there. There’s a cross one, and Taehyung gets his teeth on it. Bites down and tugs, growling softly just to hear the giggled hitch of breath.
Taehyung isn’t careful when he widens the spaces between his fingers. But it’s not like Jimin is careful either, pressing his fingers right back, guiding them closer until they’re holding hands. How domestic. People are bound to notice. Maybe that’s what Taehyung wants too, in full HD where everyone can see them. If they look close enough, they can find the exact moment Taehyung moaned fuck it.
‘Do it then,’ he whispers.
Fall head first right into the prickly water, gasping for air and twisting about. It’s cold the way it happens, and Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut at the impact. Jimin makes the prettiest gasping noise when he cums too, and twists wildly in Taehyung’s arms like he can’t stand it.
Taehyung’s fingers are sticky afterwards, but that doesn’t stop Jimin.
Neither does the shakily perched camera. Jimin remembers only at the last minute to drag it closer, so they can get this perfect shot. The best shot, of Jimin opening his mouth and slowly swallowing around Taehyung’s fingers. He licks clean the edges, taking his sweet time.
‘Oh,’ Taehyung groans, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘Fuck , that’s so—’
‘Hot?’ Jimin supplies. He’s grin is dangerous. ‘I know.’
Jimin gives the camera and adorable wave before clumsily clicking it off. That should be the end of it, the end of the show. No one’s looking, they can go back to pretending to barely understanding each other. Taehyung’s mackin’ on some pussy, remember? He has homework to do, but Jimin is still so warm around his cock that he doesn’t want to move. His hips jump of their own accord when Jimin pulls away, fingers gripping the base so the condom doesn’t pull free.
Ah, that should be the end of it. Jimin grins at him like he knows it, but peels that stupid latex-free rubber away from Taehyung’s skin to lean down and swallow him whole.
There’s dust floating in the air when Taehyung’s breath is knocked out of him. His eyelashes do that odd fluttering thing they do when he thinks he might pass out, and he jerks from the pressure around it. Jimin’s mouth is hot and wet, talented in ways he wishes it wouldn’t be. Taehyung cries out softly, gripping Jimin’s shoulder as tight as he can. He hopes it bruises.
It would be funny if it weren’t so arousing. Jimin opens his mouth wider so he can suck down closer to the base, nose meeting clean skin once he’s managed it. There’s little drops of drool trailing down Taehyung’s cock to make up for it, and he’s hoarse.
wait, fuck, and that’s all Jimin gets before Taehyung is weakly pushing at him, gasping out an excuse to pull away. He’s going to cum , and it’s going to be embarrassing because he’s not sure he can keep Jimin’s name out of his mouth. He cries hoarsely and shudders under the pressure.
‘You taste good,’ Jimin hums. He licks his lips. ‘Eat it up.’
He’s a dangerous shade. The moon that blocks the sun once a month, sitting in front of it with indifference. His pink lips are stained and glossy, caught in the edge when he smirks. He leans forward and presses his mouth against Taehyung’s, moaning.
Yeah, it’s hot. Like the sun scalding, pressing against skin that’s never been touched before. A certain kind of blush that comes along with realization, half-blazed and slightly drunk. Or, just when building up a fever and everything still feels okay. Taehyung can taste himself on Jimin’s lips, and it’s better when he licks into his mouth. He can taste himself everywhere there too.
‘You look dumb after getting fucked,’ Jimin says.
Taehyung sucks on his bottom lip. ‘Feel a bit like it too.’
‘Do you like that dreamy feeling afterwards?’ Jimin asks. ‘Like, you don’t know where you are.’
‘That’s the best feeling,’ Taehyung interrupts. His tongue tastes funny, and he smiles about it. Jimin kisses him on the forehead. ‘By all means, make it happen.’
This is where things get drastic. Taehyung feels his heart stutter in his chest, impossibly tight when Jimin reaches around the back of his head. He lifts him up, fingers fastening in the knot behind his head as he pulls silk undone. The mask loosens and threatens to fall.
That’s the terrifying part. There’s honesty hidden beneath there. Broken whispers and muffled promises, all meant to go to someone else. Taehyung feels his throat tighten just at the small touch, like he’s going to start any minute now. His homework lays unfinished on his desk. His camera? It’s not even out yet. Anxiety makes his lips wobble.
This is a part of intimacy he never thought would happen. He lets Jimin remove the plastic completely, shivering even though his jeans are only halfway down his thighs with his boxers. He’d been too lazy to remove the damn things, and his shirt is barely unbuttoned. It’s going to be too much if it keeps going, so it erupts gently in his chest.
Then, there’s another sound of fabric. Jimin’s eyes are floating shut as he reaches around his own head, chin tilted curiously. He pulls his own mask free until there’s nothing left, and once he’s done? Jimin presses his palm against the base of Taehyung’s throat, leaning down so he can kiss the surprise right off of his mouth. There’s a lot of surprise there, cut slightly thin.
‘I want to see your face, Kim Taehyung ssi.’
Focus (you’re already losing.) Taehyung blinks heavily, shyly peeking out from beneath his eyelashes. He only feels that way just now, exposed, and not when he was posting raunchy nudes. He has a reputation to keep up. He can’t fall in love with every man who shows him a gentle hand, and who kisses like a rose. There are thorns waiting to dig into his skin, and he’s not sure he can handle it when they do. He shakes beneath Jimin’s touch.
‘You won’t like what you see.’
Jimin bites him like he doesn’t believe him, leaving a swell of teeth against his skin. It drags a sharp noise out from Taehyung’s chest, rumbling and deep. It’s almost enough—but there’s a reminder. An old engagement ring sitting on the counter meant to be forgotten. Things don’t last forever, but it makes it easier when you’ve got a following. Jimin kisses him like an apology, and it takes everything for Taehyung to not curl into his chest.
‘In case you’re wondering,’ Taehyung says, ‘I’m not a flower boy.’
‘Oh god, I wasn’t expecting it,’ Jimin snorts. ‘Everyone has their insecurities. It’s okay’
Taehyung glances at him. ‘This is starting to get deep.’
Any minute now and the illusion will be shattered. They’ll be reminded of what they’re supposed to be. It’s almost embarrassing how eager Taehyung is despite that, how his hips jump of their own accord and he leans forward to press a wet kiss against Jimin’s jaw, a brush of stubble there from midafternoon. That’s how he begs, though. It’s about as close as he can get.
Jimin turns red sometime after that, and it’s surprising they stay just like that. Taehyung leans his chin against his shoulder later on, and finally, when he’s pressed back against the sheets again with nothing to expose him but a hard-on. It’s almost enough.
Jimin laps lazily at his nipples, humming against them and teasing with his teeth. It’s a little electric spark that races up his chest into his heart below. It’s a nice feeling, one of the best, and even better when Taehyung manages to shift his hips just right until he’s rutting against Jimin’s abs. There’s a smile against his skin at that. He supposes he deserves it.
‘Well, I’ll get deep soon too,’ Jimin murmurs against his skin.
Jimin dips his fingers in, uncapping the lube and enjoying it. He dribbles it over Taehyung’s balls and waits for it to sink lower, curling his fingers in the slick and laughing. It would be embarrassing if Taehyung wasn’t so interested. If his cheeks weren’t so hot and burning just at the thought of it. It’s going to take more than that to make him feel.
But it still drags a reactive sound from Taehyung’s throats, surprisingly whiny given his usual composure. There’s something about it that makes him bite his tongue (the camera isn’t on) and tilt his chin, but there’s not much he can do. Jimin’s free hand is gentle, trailing up and down the back of his thigh.
Jimin bites his ankle where he can, laughing when Taehyung jerks. It’s even worse when he leans forward, kissing it in such a sloppy way that Taehyung has to bite his lip at. There’s something wonderful building up, exposing and worse. Taehyung wants to close his eyes, just melt right where he is. But he can’t, or he won’t let himself. There’s too much at risk.
Jimin fingerbangs him of all things, entirely too intimate with the way he’s pushed up against Taehyung’s prostate for the best of it. He anchors himself in Taehyung’s heart that very moment, catching all those mouthy breaths and whispers to keep for himself until they’ve reached the better of it. Give me more, or something like that—and now Taehyung wishes he’d had the time to do it for fun. To drag it out, taste more of Jimin’s skin than what he ended up being given. If he’s not careful, he’ll confess.
Let’s go on a date, or something just as horrific. Skipping straight to just adding jimex into his bio with a sweet little heart at the end of it, as terrible as that seems. Jimin drags his teeth against the inside of his knee, and Taehyung keens for it.
‘You asshole,’ Taehyung breathes, shivering so hard it hurts his stomach. ‘You just—plug me up, plug me up—’ He closes his eyes. ‘ Shut me up.’
Do something (but stop me from opening my mouth.) It’s a good look on Jimin, to be so focused and dazed at the same time, like he can’t open his eyes any more than they are. He has a cute little tooth too that pokes out from behind his upper lip, so adorable it makes Taehyung want to kiss it. He turns blue and just suffers like that, locked in his heart and chest with words that won’t stop tumbling out. He’d sell it all if it would make a difference.
Jimin does him good giving him things he’s asking for. Taehyung parts his lips and presses them around Jimin’s fingers, the ones he’s been offered so he doesn’t cry from all the relief he’s getting. There’s three fingers crooked in his ass, while the other lays flat against his tongue. He still hasn’t shimmied off his clothes, and now he’s tangled, feeling constricted. Jimin’s tongue is soothing like it always is, and Taehyung swallows the lump in his throat.
God, he’s such a sap.
Taehyung is a glutton for some good cosmic punishment. The gods and goddesses are laughing at him wherever they sit, pointing their fingers. Look at those grades. Look at that family falling apart. Look at that treacherous love life, and how it just seems to crumble.
And Jimin? He’s the nihilistic opposite doing the exact same thing to those exact same gods. He’d fuck the righteousness out of someone if they glanced at him in a way, and promise them brilliant futures while doing it. There’s a promise of one now, sweaty bodies forced together during the bleariness of heat, and that’s what makes it worse.
‘Come on, come on,’ Taehyung says, clumsily thanks to the weight. ‘You’re just—gonna fuck me, is that it? You're just gonna—put it in, stick it in—then fuck my brains out? Gonna say goodbye leavin’ cream in my tight ass—’
Jimin bites him, for what it’s worth. ‘Fuck you,’ he breathes. ‘I’ve already moved in.’
Jimin rubs the drool right down Taehyung’s chin and wipes it clean along his collarbones. He laughs while he does it, melodic and wonderful. The right kind of noise that has Taehyung appreciating nature and taking long hikes in the park.
He sits up and still feels shaky. Jimin is instrumental in dragging his clothes away and leaving him naked, pressed against damp sheets because there’s dribbles of cum everywhere that they missed not cleaning up earlier.
He presses his shin against Jimin’s thigh just to hear the sharp hiss that comes out as he slides into place. He lines Jimin’s cock up with his asshole and sinks down onto it, wiggling it and wheezing the deeper it goes. It’s a nice burn, a wonderful stretch, and it has him hiccupping before he’s all the way down from how full it makes him feel.
Well, that’s how things go nowadays. Taehyung keens against Jimin’s lips, sucks on them until they’re beginning to bruise. No one seems to mind. No one seems to care.
There’s punishment there. Jimin snaps his hips up and forceful. People always say they can feel someone’s dick in their toes, but Taehyung feels it all the way up in his chest. Until his heart is aching from the force of it, and his teeth clamp awkwardly close to his own tongue for comfort. His skin stings, and he can’t stop clinging to Jimin’s shoulders.
See, he’d always known it. Jimin’s quads are totally worth it, working him up and snug against the curve of Taehyung’s ass until he’s grinning about it. There’s laughter there too, about the incredible way they’ve fallen together.
And the entire time? Taehyung’s not worried about the camera, how he’s going to color his gifs so he looks pink and pristine in all the right areas. He’s not worried about cropping and resizing, thinking of a witty caption to upload it, and how much money he’s going to charge—and it’s wonderful. He laughs against Jimin’s mouth it’s that wonderful.
‘Taehyung .’
‘Fuck you,’ Taehyung gasps out. He turns his cheek away from the force of the thrust, hiccupping again. ‘I’m just—god, I’m fucking— happy.’
He doesn’t want to look in case Jimin’s going to mock him. For the love of everything, he couldn’t figure out why he would, but there’s a chance there. He’s already taken three today, laughing off biochem and shoving his dick in someone’s nice fat ass. Then, he just let a stranger in.
But Jimin’s not a stranger, and Taehyung hasn’t appreciated anything more than the way he swoons over him. He presses his face against Jimin’s neck and sobs, nibbling and sucking more hickeys there because he has to keep his mouth occupied. He’d suck on his own fingers if he could remember how to move. But he’s busy, swaying his hips flat against Jimin’s dick, whining about how Jimin’s leg hair tickles the back of his ass so nicely.
‘So happy with a cock in your ass?’ Jimin whispers against his skin. ‘Or is it something else? Are you happy it’s—fuck, me? Happy I’m—here?’
‘Fuckin’ stay,’ Taehyung gasps, squeezing his eyes shut. ‘Stay .’
Jimin licks a bead of sweat from the side of his throat. ‘Baby .’
Such a weird love story. How are they supposed to confess? Taehyung does it quietly against Jimin’s collar bone, spine arching just for that little bit until he can properly work. He pushes Jimin down until he’s flat on his back, and then he rides him as well as he can. come on, baby, come on, come on, use your words, he figures. He digs his nails into Jimin’s skin instead.
Taehyung hitches halfway through and shakes his head. Another one of those stuttered i’m gonna, i’m gonna moments where he thinks he’ll lose it all if he just tries hard enough. Jimin’s thrusts hurt in such a good way, make him feel so full and wonderful and—
Jimin tightens his fingers and his grip and rams into Taehyung one last time, grunting out small noises and promptly nuzzling his cheek. He’s murmuring sweet things to Taehyung that he’s too dazed to listen to, busy mumbling out weak sentences that don’t make any sense. Babbling because of how good the dick is, and other things. He’s pretty sure he’s making the dumbest face too, but he can’t keep his mouth shut no matter how hard he tries, and there’s spit everywhere .
There’s a peculiar interest. A gentle kiss against his ear and mumbled words when Jimin fills him up, sticky and messy and to the brim, Taehyung means it just like that, wrapping his arms tight around Jimin’s shoulders so they can adjust again.
Until he’s lying flat on his stomach, Jimin’s fingers plugging his ass until they can rearrange and figure out how this works. Taehyung’s desperate for it, embarrassingly enough, pressing back on his knees to try to get better and reach further, huffing out little noises that Jimin ignores. It’s the best like this, with Taehyung able to press his face against the sheets and overcome his worries.
There’s a nagging thought (take your time) that presses forward without really caring. It’s got a knack for that, and for bringing the word down to a grizzly zero. In that deep position, the one that makes Taehyung feel an odd twisting in his lower stomach that he can’t help but try to endure. He’s gasping softly too. Little hitched noises, all for Jimin. If he’s honest— just for Jimin.
‘You want me to stay?’ Jimin whispers against his sweaty neck. ‘Want me to stay? Pressed like this—just together, fucking the entire time? You want more?’
It’s bordering on too much. Too pleasant, and Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut against it. Now it’s a spring day, with enough wind blowing that catches on his sweat and makes him feel lighter. That’s not the loudest he’s been either, half-asleep watching some music group perform on the television set. And now? Now he’s got Jimin right beside him, thighs pressed against thighs as sharp hip bone meets sharp ass. And it’s enough.
‘Come on,’ Jimin grits out, nails deep, ‘fuckin’ talk to me.’
‘What?’ Taehyung mumbles. ‘Egotistical shit—wanna know if you’re fuckin’ good?’
Ah, it’s one of those things. An understandable thing, because Taehyung does it too if not quieter. There’s a thrum up his spine, an electrical buzz that reminds him what it means to be human. He bites down on the hand that feeds him and purrs about it, and when he shows Jimin a coy grin, it just makes Jimin push that much harder against him.
Deepness is relative. Thickness is where it’s at. And if it makes Jimin feel better to know, then yes . He’s stretching Taehyung so good, fucking him deep and hard and fast, worthwhile and everything splendid. God, he’s given Taehyung the hiccups if that makes him feel any better. His toes are curled too, and he’s shaking in his knees without even standing. It’s a good time, a swell time. The best time.
Turns out, Jimin gets off on compliments. Taehyung only wrangles out a few of them before Jimin’s hips are stuttering against his ass, trembling too hard and too fast to keep up a decent pace. He gives one final, brutal thrust before all Taehyung feels is wet and warm. One of the best kinds of feelings, like taking a nice bath after a stressful day. Except it’s cum instead of soap, and even then, Taehyung is okay with that too. His hearts in his throat because of it.
When he thinks there might be a moment of reprieve, there’s not. Jimin shoves his mouth right against the mess he’s made, making a point to be loud and filthy. He digs his tongue into the dirtiest parts and swirls it around, wiping his mouth against Taehyung’s lower back when he’s done. He dribbles a little drop into one of Taehyung’s dimples, laughing quietly about it. The dick.
Not that Taehyung is any better. He rolls over flat on his back when it’s done sporting a dumb grin, sweaty hair stuck to his forehead, cock still hard against the curve of his lower stomach. He almost expects Jimin to play another dirty game, but he doesn’t. That’s fine too.
‘How do you wanna cum?’ Jimin asks.
Taehyung peels his eyes open. He groans with it, enjoying his damp little headspace that makes him feel a wonder and multitude of things. He’s blushing from his cheeks all the way down to his chest, too warm and sated to really focus on too many things. Eventually he murmurs, ‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, then I guess I’ll just make that decision for you,’ Jimin huffs. That’s a pretty good idea, except that it ends up being dangerous for Taehyung’s heart.
He expected a blowjob, or a half-hearted tugging session on his sensitive cock. What he gets is Jimin crawling into his lap, pouring lube onto his fingers where he’s fished out the bottle from the sheets to press into his asshole, and then lather Taehyung’s cock up with it. Taehyung moans when Jimin slides down on him, weakly thrusting into the heat.
It feels too good. A nap in the sun, an arm carelessly thrown over his eyes. Jimin rocks back and forth on his cock slowly until Taehyung is squirming beneath him, stammering out complaints and trying his best to stay focused. He ends up grabbing onto Jimin’s thighs for support, squeezing his hands around them.
Jimin cages him there. He tucks his legs right against Taehyung’s sides and pushes inward, and Taehyung likes that feeling even more. It’s a bit like being trapped, but better because Jimin drags his fingers against Taehyung’s ribs and laughs because he knows it tickles. There’s a bit of intimacy there, when he trails his fingers gentle against the underside of Taehyung’s arms, his forearms, before linking their fingers together. At that, Taehyung cries.
Not a bad sort of cry, just a loud one. He cums hard and fast, slipping into Jimin and trying his hardest to not squeeze his thighs together and wiggle at the pressure.
Jimin pats his cheek. Taehyung opens his eyes and cringes at how bright the light seems. He’s almost ready to doze off, curl up tight like a kitten and rest for the rest of the night. He watches as Jimin turns the reddest he’s ever seen. Pulls off, and makes a mess of the sheets. Fuck it, oh well.
‘I have homework,’ Taehyung says.
He stares up at the ceiling. Jimin eventually curls up beside him, chin resting on his shoulder. He’s still panting from the effort, his ass probably a little sore. He’s such a shit he makes Taehyung roll onto the wet spot and giggles around it, but Taehyung doesn’t mind. It’s a cooling breeze against his too hot skin, and he loves that feeling.
It doesn’t really stop him from being mildly interested, and caution has never really stopped any great adventurer from stepping forward into the unknown. Taehyung drags the bottoms of his feet across the sheets and tries to disappear for sight.
That boy is marked-for-death, hair plastered to his face with skin surprisingly clear, and Taehyung wants everything to do with him. Not so much by choice as it is by habit, avoiding anyone who could be seen as being being the perfected edge. It has Taehyung acting clingier than he thought he would, fingers dug in tight as Jimin glances at him with a knowing little smile. Cocky, or something. Taehyung's too tired to think.
Looking Park Jimin in the eyes is a bit like giving himself up, entirely too dangerous, and it would be hell if his heart found out he was even pretending of imagining of talking to a boy without the permission from his brain. They are foreign creatures dangerous as dragons, a flickering tongue, and the promise of sweet candy on their tongues. Taehyung just knows the flicker of a poisoned tongue against his own. He's not quite taught himself to be uninterested in things like that by carefully staying away from them.
Because he is interested, and he wants nothing more to find out how soft Jimin's mouth is. He sits up a little bit and watches Jimin drift away, but back again. It’s hard to explain that kind of thought process when everything feels disjointed and unattached.
‘Hey, do you still—’ Jimin starts. ‘Why do you want to disappear?’
‘Lots of things.’ The window rattles. ‘I’m okay.’
Jimin exhales like he’s disappointed, and Taehyung is quick to steal that. He likes air more than his body will admit. When Jimin laughs? It’s a different matter entirely, winding him up so tight he thinks he might shiver and break apart from it. This is a fine situation to be in.
The engagement ring. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fingers against his temples. It doesn’t block out the feeling of Jimin’s mouth against his skin, plump. Comforting. Things are getting too much to handle now.
Taehyung thinks he dozes off for a little bit. He wakes up in a different position with pants on, and Jimin is still there too in his underwear. He’s putting an overlay on a gif he’s made, and he’s laughing to himself while music plays quietly in the background. When Taehyung sits up and wraps himself around Jimin’s shoulders, everything becomes nice.
It means a lot that Jimin didn’t leave, for whatever reason. They’re growing parts of the same plants, fingers reaching to the same space. Taehyung watches the leaves grow and finally puts his arms around Jimin’s waist, sighing against his skin.
‘I like you, you know,’ Taehyung says softly.
‘Idiot,’ Jimin mutters. ‘I like you too.’
That’s just how life goes. A little bit of the fuzzy flower that grants wishes floating through the sky. Someone might appreciate the art that goes along with it, and someone might not. But this someone? Taehyung thinks he might be able to see places other people can’t.
‘Let’s be something.’
Taehyung stares at his bedside table. There’s an old five-hundred piece puzzle there waiting to be figured out, but no luck. That seems to be the fate of a lot of things. Ignored, but worth it. His phone chimes and he ignores it. That’s the idolized son back from the perks of being wide awake, so he tries to not notice it. It’s hard to notice anything else.
There’s something so unapologetically whimsical about this scene. Sure, there should be more. There’s not a lot that goes on with their lives. They’re muted greys in the backdrop of something else twelve times more spectacular but—that’s okay. That’s fine. That’s better than anything else.
‘You know, I really hate endings,’ Taehyung says.
Jimin smiles, small. ‘Same.’
Taehyung hits BACKSPACE until there’s nothing else but that blinking line. Jimin presses against his chest, snug. He figures everything is going to end up alright after all.