Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The rich scent of coffee beans and caramel persists around the table, providing a comfortable and quiet atmosphere against today’s warm afternoon sunlight. Jimin’s iced coffee rests before him with the condensation dripping onto the table, leaving damp circles on the wooden surface. He listens with half an ear to Ji-ho’s jittery words.

Ji-ho, a student from the sports department, is a handsome man. Tall, with defined facial features. Definitely good-looking enough for some intimate enjoyment. 

“My friend said it’s, without a doubt, worth a watch.” Ji-ho utters, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and his gaze flickers between Jimin’s lips and eyes. 

Across the table, Jimin nods with an alluring smile, his hair tips coiled around his pinky finger. He doesn’t bother to ask what is worth a watch when his only concern is getting out of here.

“Then should we get comfortable on your couch and watch it together?” 

With a deliberate pace, Jimin slides his hand over, reaching for Ji-ho’s extended fingers. Color floods across the athlete’s features, yet his palm remains rooted in place, anticipating. Jimin finds his behavior amusing, but conceals it underneath a veil of innocence. Their fingers are only inches apart, Ji-ho’s body heat grazing over Jimin’s pale skin. Both are absorbed in the other’s presence, blind to the world around them.

Blind, but not deaf. 

A raspy cough cuts through them, and Jimin’s movements come to a full stop. After a brief moment of nothing, Jimin draws a big lungful of air and feigns a grin to a bemused Ji-ho whose face has lost all evidence of life.

“Excuse me.” He mumbles as his torso jerks away from his date. His grasp strangles the armrest until his knuckles rival the pallor of Ji-ho’s face. 

Beside them, only an arm’s length away, stands a man in a dark suit with his hands clasped behind his back. His hair is flawlessly styled, and his face carries no expression. 

Jimin’s nostrils flare, and he scowls at the man who still shows no reaction. 

And the man is, of course, Jeon Jeongguk. Jimin’s trailing nightmare for the past two months. 

His bodyguard. 

“Do you mind?” Jimin hisses through a smile in a weak attempt to blanket the anger simmering beneath his skin. “I’m in the middle of a date—”

A scraping sound pierces the space, startling Jimin as pairs of eyes glimpse toward their direction. Jeongguk doesn’t even flutter an eyelid. With a defeated cast, Jimin turns to the noise, and Ji-ho is no longer seated on his chair, but on his feet with his black backpack clutched against his heaving chest. 

“Ji-ho, what’s wrong—”

“I don’t think this can work out, Jimin. I’m a private person, and this is…” Ji-ho flicks a nervous look at Jeongguk, sweeping his tongue between his lips. “Like a sniper mark between my eyebrows.”

“Wait.” Jimin stirs from the chair, but the athlete is already halfway out of the door, abandoning Jimin with two untouched coffees. The front door of the coffee shop slams closed, and, weighted down by dejection, Jimin slumps down into his seat with a weary huff. 

Another ruined date with yet another man who bolted from him.

A large tattooed hand steals Jimin’s drink, lifting the cup to a usually pierced mouth. Though now, the jewelry sits in the room next to Jimin’s. Right next to his room.

“What a wimp.” Jeongguk sips from the coffee, the slurping thunderous for Jimin, and grimaces at the sweetness he doesn’t like. A trait Jimin had to learn against his will. 

“Do you get off on this?” He asks, his voice devoid of emotion as he loads his belongings into his bag and pretends not to feel Jeongguk’s pointed gaze on him. 

“On what?” Jeongguk arches an eyebrow, appearing nearly blameless and boyish.

“On cock-blocking me.” Jimin states through his teeth, springing to his feet, and strides towards the exit in quick steps. Many eyes shadow behind him; some are pitiful, some are belittling. Jimin doesn’t torment himself over any of them. 

A confirmation whether Jeongguk follows him isn’t needed. After all, he always does.

“I don’t think that guy had a cock to block to begin with.” Jeongguk says behind him, and a sneering laugh escapes Jimin’s lips.

“Can you, for once, just let me find that out by myself?” 

As expected, Jeongguk offers no response, and Jimin chooses to let the conversation round off here. 

The pair walks through the packed parking lot towards Jimin’s black Mercedes. The warm, yellow sunlight reflects on the windshield, painting the glass golden. Such a beautiful day. It’s a shame that it had to end with him beside Jeongguk instead of a heated make out session in the alley behind the coffee shop.

A broad shoulder interrupts Jimin’s daydreaming—a whiff of a smoky scent circles around him as Jeongguk opens the rear door. 

A gentleman, at least. 

“Thanks.” Jimin throws his bag on the middle seat before stepping inside the car. Two months ago, his Mercedes smelled like white lilacs and water lilies. Now, it’s a blend of his favorite scents with citrus and woody cologne. 

It’s not an unpleasant mix to the nose, but it is for his nerves. 

Within seconds, the door is closed and Jeongguk is in the driver’s seat with the engine running. The seatbelt alarm beeps louder with each second while the motor buzzes softly beneath them. When Jimin fastens the belt, and silence finally settles between them, Jeongguk starts driving. Music hums in the car with lyrics Jimin hasn’t heard before. His eyes flicker between the passing buildings while Jeongguk taps his finger against the steering wheel in the song’s rhythm. 

“He was kind of ugly.” Jeongguk suddenly breaks the silence, his voice rough amidst the soft ballad playing on the radio.

Jimin pulls his brows together and leans forward.

“Who? Ji-ho?” 

“Yeah, Ji-ho. And every other dude that came before him.” Jeongguk peeks at Jimin through the mirror to be met with an incredulous expression on his face.

“They were not ugly!” 

Unexpectedly, Jeongguk chuckles. The boisterous sound resonates in the small space as he shakes his head at Jimin’s answer, which only infuriates the student more.

“They all had handsome faces with abs, biceps and very nice calves!” Jimin crosses his arms, internally going through the list of his unsuccessful dates. Not one of those dudes was even close to being unattractive. 

“Maybe. But next to you—” Their eyes meet in the reflection, and Jeongguk’s Adam's apple bobs. “Whatever. Thankfully, that’s none of my business.” 

Jimin decides not to reply. After two months of having Jeongguk shackled to him, he’s learned that most of the time silence is the optimal choice to protect his inner peace. Sinking deeper into the leather, he shuts his eyes as the vehicle stops at a red light. One failed attack from a former business opponent, and his father saw no other possibility than to hire a pesky bodyguard who sleeps, eats and goes home to Jimin’s apartment. 

Less than a friend, but somehow more than a boyfriend. 

Jimin snickers under his breath, straightening his posture. The route from campus to his apartment feels everlasting ever since his bodyguard started chauffeuring him around. At that moment, his phone vibrates in his pocket, forcing his head out of the clouds. A cursory glimpse at Jeongguk, and he swiftly reaches for the device.

Hobi | 4:48pm

yu-jin is throwing a party tonight. we’re invited and i know that you’re leashed to mister bodyguard 

but yu-jin asks around for you so according to my calculations and knowledge of life and love he’s using the party to get close to you

With knitted brows, Jimin’s mind attempts to place a face to Yu-jin, going from one seminar to the next.  Luckily, he recalls an exasperating group assignment with the fellow student, who was particularly keen on lessening Jimin’s workload.

Yu-jin is one of the handsome ones. 

Jimin | 4:49pm

great. another hot boy who wants to get to know me and i come in a double package with a man who’s interrupted 7 of my dates

Hobi | 4:51pm

if only you could sneak out lmao

Thrill blooms across Jimin’s skin as Hoseok’s evident quip manifests into a genuine idea. 

Jimin | 4:52pm

youre a genius

Hobi | 4:52pm

stop wait 

don’t ever tell him i gave you that idea

he’ll kill me

Jimin | 4:55pm

he won’t kill you

i think

Hobi | 4:59pm

great. 

Concealing his mouth behind his palm, Jimin grins against it. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, Jeongguk will notice his absence. If luck will allow it, Jimin will have around three hours until his knight in a dark suit presents himself between Yu-jin and him. At least that would be three hours of less Jeongguk.

“What’s so funny?”

Jimin blinks, lifting his gaze to meet Jeongguk’s in the rear view mirror. A suspecting expression rests on his face, and Jimin’s muscles tense—always so perceptive.

“Aren’t you supposed to watch the road?” Jimin’s hands drop to his lap, his blood hurtling through his veins. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be miserable around me?” 

With his past experiences, Jimin makes the choice to say nothing, not tendering the opportunity for Jeongguk to somehow read between the lines and find out about his intentions. Nothing will come between Jimin and Yu-jin.

“There it is. The misery.” Jeongguk snickers, his upper teeth flashing briefly. The rhythmic click of the turn signal ends their conversation.

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

“I think I just misheard you.” Hoseok’s voice is flat on the other line, evidently not on board with the plan for tonight. 

Jimin’s phone is edged between his shoulder and ear, the device warm against his skin. One clothing item after another disappears beneath the blanket. 

“I said I will jump off my balcony onto the fire escape—” 

“Oh, okay. You’ve actually lost your mind.” 

“It’s not like I can just walk out of my apartment. I have a guarding dog.” Jimin steps back and studies his bed. It’s by far not perfect, but with the lights turned off, the makeshift shape can buy him time. 

“Can’t you just wait until he falls asleep?”

With his phone in his hand, Jimin saunters to his mirror. His reflection stares back at him, a glint of uncertainty flickering in his pupils. 

“Not possible. He peeks into the hallway every time I go for a piss.” Jimin fixes his long, blond hair—combing it behind his ear. “Regardless of the time.” 

“He takes his job very seriously.” 

In the background, Jimin hears a loud thud—the sound of a door slamming, then the jiggling of keys. Hoseok is already in his car. 

“I guess that’s what the youth are doing these days.” Jimin mutters, snatching his Jo Malone perfume from his cluttered desk and spraying it evenly on his neck and chest.

“He’s only two years younger than you.” 

Jimin compresses his lips, suppressing the burdened sigh tarrying in his chest. He’s yet to digest that someone younger than him has been assigned to guard him. But, according to his father, Jeongguk is the best guy in his unit. The humming engine washes away some of Jimin’s irritation, and excitement bubbles in his blood instead. Soon, all of his concerns are bygones, and his only interest will be how to move his hips on the dance floor. 

“Whatever. I’m hanging up and waiting for you down the street.” Jimin tucks his house keys into his bag. “Also, I’m leaving my phone here. There’s probably a tracker in this thing.” 

“Fine. I’ll be there in five minutes.” 

The line goes dead with a beep, and the silence hangs heavy in the bedroom. Releasing a shaky breath, Jimin heedfully tosses his phone onto the mattress and takes one last glance at himself then his door. Confidence tickles through his body, his hesitancy buried underneath it. He looks good, and the door is securely locked. So, he walks onto his balcony, and the cold night air hugs his frame, but it doesn’t stop him from marching toward the guardrails. 

His access to the fire escape is outside Jeongguk’s room. No, his room that Jeongguk is occupying. Hence why a jump to the iron stairs two meters under his balcony is his only opportunity to escape. Jimin takes a deep breath, preparing himself to leap safely onto the metal stairs. Shivers surge from his thighs to the tip of his toes. This definitely looks easier on a TV screen. 

Still, despite his body’s opposition, Jimin jumps. 

The fall is quick, but blaring, his feet landing with too much force. The clang echoes through the quiet night. Grimacing, Jimin shoves his back into the rusty railing. He glances upwards to the window, waiting for a noise, movement from Jeongguk, but it never comes. Jimin’s stiff shoulders relax, and a contented smile spreads across his lips. Without wasting another moment, he hurriedly descends until he reaches the cemented ground where he sprints down the street till his building is out of sight. 

Eventually, a white Audi stops next to him with muffled party music blasting while Hoseok is fully immersed in his dancing. The silliness brings a chuckle out of Jimin, and he steps into the car with a shake of his head. 

“I can’t believe you jumped.” 

“Hello to you too.” 

The two men fist bump before the car begins driving down the dimly lit road. Further away from his apartment.

“Last chance to invite your friend?” Hoseok’s voice rings through the music, and Jimin rolls his eyes. 

“I would rather not.” 

“What a shame.” Hoseok turns down the volume, glancing at Jimin. “He’s hot.” 

There’s a beat of silence in the car as Jimin’s mind unwillingly wanders to Jeongguk’s sharp and masculine features—his nose, piercing eyes, broad shoulders. His haunting tongue’s habit of playing with the jewelry on his bottom lip. 

“I know.” Jimin mutters while leaning his elbow on the armrest. “Still a pain in the ass though.”

“That I can’t deny. I remember when we first met and he made me prove that I was a trustworthy friend.” 

Jimin winces. That afternoon was mortifying, having Jeongguk ask his best friend about the integrity of their friendship. The absurdity of the questions.

“Don’t remind me, Hyung.” Jimin pinches the bridge of his nose. 

“He’s just doing what he’s been assigned to do.” Hoseok merges into a smaller road, his words lingering in the air. Jimin’s father had listed various advantages to having Jeongguk with him at all times. He could protect him from another attack. From possible stalkers. From overbearing journalists. Yet, it feels like much more. 

“I’m not sure he was assigned to mingle with my love life.” 

Hoseok breathily laughs at Jimin’s response, but doesn’t continue pushing the subject. Instead, he swings into an unfamiliar driveway. The inside of a house beams in bright lights as a 2000s song blares through the thick walls. A few drunk students stand on the porch, sharing cigarettes and a few other things that definitely weren't tobacco.

The rest of the invitees are inside, dancing and singing along to the lyrics. And Yu-jin is somewhere in the crowd.

“Before we go in.” Hoseok switches off the motor, placing his car keys in his pocket. “Don’t wander off. You’re without a phone, and I’m not particularly talented at finding things.”

“Got it.” 

With a curt nod to each other, the pair get out of the car, and the volume of the music immediately engulfs them. It throbs in their ears, against their skin, but it’s galvanizing. 

“You are so getting drunk tonight, aren’t you?” Hoseok gingerly nudges him with his shoulder as they walk through Yu-jin’s front door. Students with familiar faces greet them in passing, but no one captures Jimin’s attention.

“Most definitely.” Jimin’s mouth curves upward, scanning the crowd. 

The table in the kitchen is loaded with alcohol bottles and sodas, plastic cups stacked on the counter. With his gaze still sweeping over the numerous faces, Jimin grabs a vodka bottle and a red bull, mixing his first drink of the night.

“That’s not enough red bull for a vodka-red bull.” Hoseok opens up a can for himself. 

“The goal isn’t staying awake. It’s getting drunk.” Jimin clinks his cup with Hoseok’s, cheering before taking a long sip. The alcohol flows from his throat to his chest, burning underneath, but, at the same time, eases the hefty pressure there. 

“And Yu-jin.” Hoseok adds, signaling to the living room. 

Jimin follows his friend’s line of view and finds Yu-jin approaching him through dancing students. The path is narrow and jammed. Still, Yu-jin’s eyes are locked on Jimin. A wave of excitement races up his spine to the nape of his flushed neck. 

“Don’t forget not to disappear.” Hoseok playfully wiggles his brows, then disappears into a corner where he greets a friend with a laidback handshake. 

Now it’s only Jimin and Yu-jin. And no Jeongguk. 

“Hey.” Jimin invitingly tilts his head, raising his cup to his parted lips. “Nice party.”

“Thank you. I threw it just for you.” Yu-jin’s eyes are glossy, clearly a few drinks ahead. Jimin sips his drink while his gaze remains on Yu-jin whose grin broadens.

“Thank God I came then.” Jimin’s voice is sultry, his finger tracing the edge of his cup. 

“Yeah. And if my eyes aren’t deceiving me…” Yu-jin’s gaze tours the kitchen, both instantly understanding who he’s searching for. “Then you came without your little pet.” 

Jimin’s left eye twitches, a pang of annoyance beating alongside his heartbeat, and he abjectly drops his head. All it took was two measly months for Jeongguk to become his trademark, how bothersome. 

“He’s not here, no.” 

“So, I can finally impress you with my sick dance moves?” Yu-jin smiles, his eyes wrinkle under the gesture.

The lack of interruptions instills incompleteness in the conversation, like constantly anticipating a cough or purposeless remark. More importantly, most people would have crumbled under Jeongguk’s intense stare by now. 

For whatever reasons, Jimin breaks into a smile. 

“Show me what you got.” 

Apparently, that's all the exhortation Yu-jin needs to hear to wrap his toned arm around Jimin’s waist and guide him to the middle of the dance floor. With every step, the adrenaline in Jimin’s body multiples. Once between sweaty students, the two men dance together with calculated touches, which sustain the ember tip-toeing around Jimin’s chest. By every second song, one of them has a new drink in his hand, and the distance between their bodies shrink.

Somewhere between the dancing, the ceiling starts spinning and their bodies are pressed against each other. Jimin feels completely free. 

“You’re quite the dancer.” Their noses bump against each other, and Yu-jin’s breath grazes over Jimin’s cupid’s bow. The heat doesn’t ignite a fire in him, but it’s addictive enough to keep chasing it. Darting his warm tongue across his lip, Jimin smiles at the man in front of him. His arms are lazily wrapped around Yu-jin’s neck.

His shoulders aren’t as muscular as Jeongguk’s. 

“I’m an even better kisser.” Jimin slurs while his pecs press against Yu-jin. 

“Is that an invitation?” Bold hands travel from Jimin’s waist to his firm ass, which he allows to happen—even hoped for since stepping into the party. With their bodies tangled together, Jimin unintentionally notices how Yu-jin’s height is similar to his. For their eyes to meet, Jimin doesn't have to look up. 

If he remembers correctly, Jeongguk is taller.

“All good, Jimin?” Yu-jin is no longer dancing, cradling Jimin’s face and pulling him back to the present. A ripple of embarrassment gathers at his cheek. 

“All good, Hyung. I just need to stop thinking.” He mutters, glancing downward at Yu-jin’s lips. There’s a way to clear his clustered mind.

“I can help with that.” 

Jimin’s eyes flutter shut, drawing Yu-jin closer to connect their mouths. To finally feel someone else’s body temperature against his. 

Yet, his lips don’t crash into another soft pair. Instead, he senses rough skin. Cold to the touch. Blinking his eyes open, Jimin finds a large, tattooed hand pushing Yu-jin’s face away. A hand Jimin sees even behind his eyelids.

“Hands off.” Jeongguk’s authoritative voice booms over the loud music, and Yu-jin tumbles backwards. Shock flashes across his sharp face before quickly hardening into anger. 

“What’s with the attitude? Jimin can make his own choices.” Yu-jin vigorously envelops his hand around Jimin’s, yanking their bodies together. The grip is harsh, and it will definitely leave a mark, while Jeongguk’s hold is snug and acheless. “And he chose to be with me tonight.”

Not a single lie is told, but Jimin’s guts still wrench. 

A challenging flare emerges in Jeongguk’s pupils as the hand on Jimin’s wrist ghosts up to his elbow. 

“Tonight ends now. He’s coming with me.” The next moment, Jimin’s being hauled away from the crowd, struggling against Jeongguk’s raw strength. One last look is shared between Jimin and his dance partner before Yu-jin’s face disappears in the sea of people.

A blend of disappointment, embarrassment and alcohol blurs Jimin’s senses as Jeongguk’s nails clutch the fabric of his shirt. 

“That was absolutely not necessary!” 

Jimin’s stubborn protests don't invoke a reaction from Jeongguk, and he silently continues to drag Jimin to the black Mercedes haphazardly parked on the side of the road. However, Jimin is in the mood to fight tonight.

“I am talking to you, asshole!” Jimin forcibly tugs at his wrist while digging his heels into the rigid pavement. Losing his temper, Jeongguk twirls around and seizes Jimin’s shoulders in a tight grip. The usual put-together Jeongguk with the slicked back hair and ironed dark suit stands before Jimin in a black hoodie and dark bangs covering his forehead. 

This is someone Jimin doesn’t know. 

“I think you need to be quiet for now.” Jeongguk snaps, his voice low. The material of Jimin’s clothes wrinkle between his long fingers. “You reek of alcohol.”

“Because I’m drunk. Like every other person here!” Jimin staggers backwards, wrestling himself out of Jeongguk’s hold. “Is that such a bad thing?”

“It’s a bad thing that you don’t seem to care that only two months ago someone tried to attack you to do God knows what!” 

The veins on Jeongguk’s neck pop out as he invades Jimin’s personal space. The smallest push, and their lips would be tangled together. Every alarm in Jimin’s head screams to step back, to create an unyielding distance between. The moonlight shines on Jeongguk’s face, and his piercing glints in the reflection. Instead of escaping, Jimin runs his tongue over his lips. 

“Nothing happened that day.” He whispers, not trusting his voice to stand by him. 

By accident, his lips graze over Jeongguk’s as he talks, and the touch torches the ember in Jimin into a treacherous wildfire. Both men reel back with their eyes widened, lips agape. Amidst Jimin’s surprise, he loses his balance, falling to his side. However, before his body plummets into the ground, a chiseled arm embraces his waist, their spaces mixing into one. For a second, Jimin doesn't dare to move, too afraid of the intoxicating sensation of the touch.

Laggardly, Jeongguk shuffles on his feet and steadies the drunk man. 

“Fortunately.” The words come out rough, yet feel like a breeze of relief. Perhaps, that’s the reason that Jimin hopes for Jeongguk’s sudden, but gentle hug to last a little longer. “But, there is still a risk.” 

“There will always be a risk.” Jimin hiccups. “But I still want to be kissed every once in a while.” 

At this distance, it’s impossible to miss the dark flicker in Jeongguk’s eyes, which induces his blood to pool low, under Jimin’s stomach.

“You’ll have your kisses soon enough.” The arm, along with the warmths, around Jimin’s frame disappears, leaving behind a cold emptiness. 

“I could have had them now.” The drunken words slip past his lips like a fleeting thought. Still, the bodyguard freezes, glancing down at Jimin’s flushed lips. Just like Jimin had done moments ago with someone else. 

“I mean with Yu-jin. With him. Not…” He doesn’t finish his sentence, flustered that his mind even adventured with such musings. The air feels thicker with every passing second, and Jimin prays it’s only the shared anger causing it. 

“Leaving unkissed is the consequence of sneaking out.” Jeongguk grabs the car keys, unlocking the Mercedes to open the passenger door where he patiently waits. Jimin’s drunken self stares at the empty seat, his brows knitting. Usually, he sits in the back, never the front. The adamant question sits on his tongue, but the exhaustion robs him of the ability to express his disapproval. In lieu, he attempts to get to his car without falling face-first onto the whirling pavement. 

“Thanks.” Jimin mumbles after eventually getting onto his seat. Against his better judgment, his gaze drifts to Jeongguk who quietly watches him tuck his legs into the car.

Hoseok was right. He is hot. 

“Welcome.” 

The door slams shut, and Jeongguk jogs to the driver’s side. In parallel, Jimin fumbles with the seatbelt. The car is too warm, his hands are too clammy and his clothes are too tight. More than once, the belt slips from his grasp, slamming back into the car’s panel. Each time, Jimin flinches at the booming sound, groaning and throwing his head against the leather seat.

“You’re impossible.” 

Contorting his face, Jimin parts his lips to throw an insult at his bodyguard.Yet, before a single word manages to spill out, Jeongguk leans over to the passenger’s side, blindsiding Jimin. The defined chest blocks his view, the scent of a rain forest flourishing around his head until Jimin is completely caged in Jeongguk’s presence. 

Jimin holds his breath, chest tightening, while Jeongguk works on his seatbelt. Instinctively, Jimin clenches his thighs together, sensing an well-known pressure between his legs. The moment lasts only seconds, passing as swiftly as lightning. But, even when Jeongguk retreats to his side, traces of the bodyguard linger in Jimin’s senses. 

Traces that lead to a forbidden door. 

Against all his efforts, the pressure only uncurls deeper from his abdomen to his groin—dirtily and with no regard for Jimin. The size of the car shrinks, breathing becoming a major obstacle, and Jimin feverishly attempts to think of his grandmother, injured puppies, anything to prevent the tingle from morphing into more. 

To no use. The flutter evolves from physical to mental, with images agonizing him. Images of being kissed, of being desired, and of being embraced haunt him. However, it’s neither Yu-jin nor Ji-ho dwelling in his head. 

No, in his raddled mind, the softness of lips blends into the roughness of a piercing. Jimin desperately tries to blink those thoughts away, but they, even though horribly misplaced, persist. More pictures flicker behind his eyelids, one more lewd than the previous one, and shame plucks at his conscience. 

His hardening dick is not a result of attraction to Jeongguk specifically. It’s only because Jimin’s stuck in the car with him that his lust anchors itself in him—only because, tonight, he’s touched Jimin more than he’s ever done in the past two months. Weeks of restraint and a lot of cocktails are fiddling with his thinking. That’s all. 

Jimin’s breath hitches in his throat as he glimpses down at his crotch. In panic, he crosses his legs with his bag perched onto his lap. Lack of streetlights certainly helps with hiding, but it doesn’t extinguish the scorching twist in his groin. Rather, the pressure of his bag only intensifies his growing desire to seek relief.  

And perhaps, had Jeongguk not rudely interrupted him and Yu-jin, he would have been doing exactly that at the moment. 

Not sitting in a car with someone who doesn't even meet his gaze. But laying in bed, bodies mingled into one sweaty and panting mess. 

It’s not shameful for an adult to have desires. If anything, it’s natural. 

“Incline the seat if you want. Just do whatever to feel comfortable.” Jeongguk nonchalantly starts the engine while a storm erupts in Jimin’s mind. 

One voice tells him to wait it out until they get home. Until he’s safe in the privacy of his bedroom. But another voice, drunk and much louder, yells that there’s no need to wait. That these desires aren’t meant to be ignored. Just like one wouldn't ignore hunger and thirst.

Jimin is all of the above. His mouth is dry, and his stomach wrenches.

All he wanted for tonight was good sex. And not even that was granted to him, all because of a nagging pain in his ass. In a way, it’s all Jeongguk’s fault to begin with, and his ridiculous sense of duty. 

With hazy movements, the bag tumbles to Jimin’s feet, his housekeys spreading out on the carpet.  Meanwhile, his clumsy fingers search for the buttons to adjust the car seat. Not to incline it, like Jeongguk had suggested. Instead, he pushes it back, leaving him enough room to lower his body and stretch his legs. 

Jeongguk furrows his brows, watching Jimin unbuckle his belt.

“What are you doing?” His voice, hoarse and panicked, shrieks through the metallic clinks of the blinker. His eyes are indecisive as to where to look. 

“I will go home unkissed.” A soft moan mewls past Jimin’s lips as he finally undoes his pants. “But I will not go unfinished.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jeongguk’s fingers grasp the steering wheel. A cloak of calmness endeavors to hide the confusion and panic, but it’s futile. Jimin sees it, but doesn’t care about it. His mind only focuses on the reflection of the piercing, and how the metal would feel against his body— whether it would feel icy to the skin and awaken a path of goosebumps wherever it visits. “And stop undressing—”

Jimin’s reddened dick springs free from his underwear, and the car suddenly swerves to the left. 

“Are you out of your mind?” Jeongguk shouts, his breathing shaky and uneven. 

But Jimin doesn’t hear the question coming from Jeongguk’s mouth, being only aware of the raspy voice clinging to his ears. The harsh tone doesn’t scare him, on the contrary it elevates the rising need to touch himself. Jimin’s cock pulses against his covered stomach, its color flushed. In the ill-lit streets with the passing lampposts, precum glistens down Jimin’s shaft, a silent plea to be caressed. Silent, but tenacious. 

Fuck it. 

Biting his bottom lip, his trembling fingers envelop around his base, his dick warm in his hold as Jimin hisses. The touch isn’t a slow build up to ecstasy like usual. Tonight, it’s immediate, a spark bursting into flames in his body, and Jimin arches his back into the feeling. 

If only it weren’t his own touch, but someone else’s. 

He flicks his wrist at an unbroken rhythm while his hips faintly move along. With each thrust, more droplets of precum leak over his dick, smearing over Jimin’s digits. In the small space of the car, the sounds grow more obscene and wet, blending into Jimin’s hushed grunts.

He’s done this enough times—touching himself. Yet, tonight with Jeongguk’s undeniable attention, Jimin feels as though every minor touch provokes a wave of pleasure he’s never felt before. One that has him throw every ounce of control away onto the past. 

Jimin loudly moans, his legs spreading wider open. Not for easier propinquity, but a better view. A better view for Jeongguk.

“Jimin… Jimin.” Jeongguk fumbles for words, running his hand through his dark hair. His face is painted a deep red. “You shouldn’t—”

Jimin knows he shouldn’t. Still, the heart-pounding excitement wins over his reasoning. Instead of stopping, Jimin’s pace quickens with sweet whimpers slipping past his parted lips each time he focuses on his pink tip. His pulse thumps on his tongue. 

Beside him, Jeongguk struggles to keep his gaze ahead of him, attempting to stay professional. His facade, however, visibly cracks with every honeyed moan.

Is the stern bodyguard curious about Jimin’s face veiled in pure bliss? Or the places his hand keeps going back to?

Despite the inquisitiveness, Jeongguk doesn’t look, and a bitter taste engulfs Jimin’s mouth. Out of nowhere, sudden pressure hits Jimin’s chest, and it takes a second for him to realize that Jeongguk is well over the speed limit. 

His grip on the steering wheel is stiffer than before with the edges of his long fingers having turned white as the car merges into different streets. Long fingers that would feel incredibly around his needy dick. Even better inside of him, coated in their salivas, stretching him out until his hole smells like a blend of their scents—like his car. 

The vehicle grows hotter. Heat spreads across Jimin’s cheeks as dampness gathers at his temple and along his neck. Gasping for air, he uses his free hand to lift his shirt until his perked nipples peek over the fabric. It’s now where Jeongguk’s fixated focus falters, his eyes flitting on the exposed, gleaming body. 

It passed in a blink, yet indisputable. Jeongguk looked starved. 

Starved, like someone who knows how to make good use of their tongue. Who knows how deep to reach to have Jimin’s toes curl. 

“You should finish this in your—”

Who knows how to fuck him until his mind becomes nothing but a vessel for their name. Someone like a good—

“Hyung.” 

The Mercedes veers to the side again as disbelief flickers across Jeongguk’s face. His mouth is parted, his breathing low and sharp, yet no orders or suggestions follow.

Jimin isn’t so quiet. 

“Hyung, please. Please, Jeonggukie.” 

Another strangled whimper ensues. The hand on the shirt slips down to his nipple, after tonguing two of his fingers, and pulls at the nub as his feet push into the floor. He’s so, so close. 

But he wants more stimulation, bigger hands, and a ruthless cock pounding into him. 

“Won’t you help me?” Jimin’s head rolls to the side, eyes shut while tightness amasses at the base of his dick. 

His hand moves faster and clumsier while Jeongguk’s name falls off his lips like a desperate, pathetic prayer. 

A very tiny part of Jimin’s brain, his rational side, endeavors to place himself somewhere else. Far away from Jeongguk.

But his imagination betrays him once more. It’s no longer his own hand stroking his dick into release, but a tattooed one. Its grip mirrors the one on the steering wheel. Intense and restless. Reflexively, Jimin’s fingers tighten around his quivering cock, and a mellow moan of Jeongguk’s name escapes him.

“So close. Just a little more.” Jimin whispers, abandoning his nipple to cadencelessly rub his wet tip alongside his strokes. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” His cock swells upward his shaft, though the thrill doesn’t stretch to the crown. Each throb echoes through his stomach until his vision begins to blur. He’s on the verge of relief, but doesn’t exceed into bliss. He whines, tears swelling up in his dazed eyes. 

“Jimin.” 

Jeongguk’s voice is winded as a whiff of citrus and forest pierces into Jimin’s space, and he finally falls apart. 

Tiny, white dots dance behind his eyelids as strings of cum shoot out of him onto the dashboard, his body shudders under the shattering, sensuous pleasure. His thighs tense up, and his hand slowly comes to a halt. With his spine curved, Jimin puffs as though he’s been deprived of oxygen all this time. 

The lingering taste of Jeongguk’s name gradually fades with the rush of his orgasm, leaving him with nothing but exhaustion and a heavy silence. Without a doubt, amid his exhaustion, profound shame will burden Jimin when the alcohol wears off. 

Nevertheless, for now, he only wants to lay down on his bed. 

Jimin’s belt clinks while he fixes his pants. At the same time, he glances out the window, noticing that his surroundings aren’t passing by him anymore. The car is neatly parked at their designated spot by the apartment.

“When did we…?” 

The door flies open and a gust of crisp air hits Jimin’s skin. Goosebumps stirs along the nape of his neck. With it, a wave of nausea. 

In front of him, Jeongguk stares down at the mess, but bites down on his tongue. Jimin has trouble reading his expression. All he can certainly make out are blushed cheeks on caramel skin. Yet, any kind of emotion seems to be bereft of his face. His bodyguard could be intrigued, disgusted, or perhaps even furious. Who knows, the possibilities are endless.

In a weak attempt, Jimin leans in, his nose bumping into Jeongguk’s chin to find a hint of something. Regardless of his exertion, he is clueless until the end. 

“Can you walk?” Jeongguk asks, his palm already extended out, and for a brief moment Jimin thinks to see a tremble, but he’s drunk and tired—God knows not to trust his sight. 

“Yeah.” He shifts in his seat, but is immediately overwhelmed with a surge of queasiness. “Or not.”

“I figured.” Jeongguk mumbles, pressing his palm to his forehead. He takes a deep breath, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip as his hands reach for Jimin.

One quiet huff, and Jeongguk has his client in his arms, bridal style. 

“Look at you. All strong.” Out of reflex, Jimin cuddles into Jeongguk’s chest, his eyes barely open. Vibrations from Jeongguk’s voice tickle Jimin’s ear and cheek, but he can’t make out the words. The setting around him is a muffled haze. He’s comfortable. 

Before the two men enter the apartment building, Jimin falls into a deep slumber. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

After the small break of today’s last class, the professor reminds the students of the assignment that’s due in three weeks. Whispers fill the space as students jot down notes. Jimin also writes down a few things, but nothing in relation to the lecture’s contents or the upcoming homework.

Various question marks litter his page as his morning repeats in his mushed mind again and again.

“Is the class that confusing to you or what’s going on in that head of yours?” Hoseok’s tone is hushed, eyes inspecting the scribbled notebook.

“It’s nothing.” Jimin shrugs, and blood sneaks up to his ears. 

“Come on. It’s just us now.” With a light, encouraging poke, Hoseok scoots to his friend. A little closer, and their temples would touch.

Hoseok has a point. No overbearing stare is stabbing into his back, nor is a hand interposing between them. The room feels serene. Jeongguk is allowed on campus and the university’s hallways while lecture halls are off-limits for the bodyguard. The director fears that his presence would impact the ambience of the lesson. 

Which makes the next thirty minutes the last chance to vent to someone. 

“You have to promise me not to freak out.” His notepad shuts with a quiet thud, his voice low. 

“I won’t.” Hoseok smiles in triumph, rubbing his hands together, while Jimin drowns in shame.

“Last night, Jeongguk got between me and Yu-jin.” The words sit heavy on his tongue, as though the next ones dread being spoken. “And dragged me to my car.”

“I know. I watched it happen.” Hoseok states matter-of-factly with a finger over his chin. Jimin freezes, knotting his brows as he turns his body towards his friend.

“And you didn’t think about saving me?” 

Hoseok can purse his lips at Jimin’s bewilderment. “Have you seen the size of that man?” 

Oh, he has. 

Recollections of Jeongguk’s sculpted chest swim in Jimin’s gaze. As though electrified, he jerks against his chair. These humiliating memories really do come at the most inconvenient times. Releasing a shaky breath, he focuses back on the matter at hand. 

“Anyways. We kept arguing in each other’s faces.” Jimin reservedly continues as bits and pieces of the night return to him. “And he looked so different.” 

“Different as in?” Hoseok leans in, but his gaze remains on his professor. Anything to avoid standing out.

“Different as in, I pulled my—” Jimin jitterly glances around the lecture hall, his cheeks burning in crimson. “I pulled my dick out in the car and masturbated.” 

A devastating frown veils over Jimin’s features, terrified to look at Hoseok. Still, jumping over his fear, he peeks at his friend. Hoseok’s left eye twitches while his facial color fades into a pale facade. He gulps once, but doesn’t talk.

Jimin’s leg bounces under the table  as he gnaws at his thumb. The silence is suffocating, a nightmare. He had genuinely hoped for a burst of laughter, or a series of personalized insults. Hell, he would have preferred a slap to the head over this. Because Hoseok’s speechlessness can only mean one thing. Jimin fucked up. Badly. 

A few moments later, Hoseok collects himself. 

“You have a fucking weird way of releasing your anger.” He hisses through his teeth, hands clenched together on the table.

“I mean I did release—”

“Not the time for jokes.” Hoseok disregards the attempt to seem attentive to class, shifting his upper body towards Jimin. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t! After all those failed dates, I think my drunk brain decided that the only logical course of action is…” Jimin pauses. 

“Pulling your dick out and masturbating in the car?” Hoseok snarls. “I can’t believe I just said that set of words out loud.” 

Disbelief is a feeling Jimin has been sitting with for the past few hours. Drunk or not, he can’t fathom why his brain decided on… that. The Earth’s core is not deep enough for Jimin to bury himself in. 

“I don’t know why I did it. But it happened.” Jimin cringes each time the last minutes of the car ride re-presents in his head like the ebb and tide.

“So, you need advice on how to deal with a very awkward Jeongguk?” The blush creeps across Jimin’s entire face as he struggles to form a sentence. 

“No. I…” His palms conceal his warm face. “He acts like nothing happened.”

Beside him, Hoseok relaxes and clutches his heart. 

“Thank God.” He sighs with a relieved grin on his face. However, that smile loses its glimmer when his eyes fall on a dejected Jimin. “Right?”

Jimin doesn’t respond, his focus drifting to the closed entrance hall where Jeongguk dutifully waits in the hallway.

“I mean…” Jimin huffs. “Why is he not even a little bit reacting?”

His friend raises his eyebrow and leans an elbow against their desk.

“I’m going to take a shot in the dark here and say maybe it’s because you’re his client?” 

Yeah, Hoseok’s answer makes perfect sense. Ever since Jeongguk started working for Jimin, or his father to be exact, he’s been a professional every step of the way—always ready for duty. He doesn’t even get out of his suit until Jimin falls asleep.

More importantly, Jeongguk never touches Jimin. 

Not even when someone bumps into him, or when a fellow student approaches him to ask for his number. Yet, last night, it felt as though his touch never left him. Nothing about it felt normal, from the way he intervened to their argument outside. So, Jimin simply can’t comprehend why Jeongguk’s reaction remains in order, as though the nightly hours never happened. 

“I didn’t feel like his client yesterday.” Jimin pouts, picking off loose fabric from his jeans. 

“Probably because you had your dick in your hand while he was driving.” Hoseok leans back on his chair, his hands resting on the rim of the table.

“Can you judge me later? This situation is killing me.” 

Hoseok taps his finger against the surface, staring at nothing particular. A small crevice sinks between his eyebrows, and Jimin’s heartbeat quickens.

“What do you think?” Jimin hushes, watching his professor pace around the podium, fully oblivious to the pair’s chatting.

“I think you need to be glad that he’s not pressing charges against you and move on. Jeongguk was most likely caught off guard with you sneaking out and whatever possessed you afterwards, and now he’s trying to be nice and pretend nothing ever happened.” Hoseok’s finger halts.

Another rational answer from his friend, but it offers no relief from the plight raging in his mind.

“You’re right.” The classroom grows louder with students around them stuffing notebooks and pens into their backpacks. Jimin stays still. Hoseok’s words ring in his ears. 

Jeongguk’s actions are proof that he was taken aback by Jimin’s childish attempt to flee to a party. Like Hoseok said, he’s being considerate. 

And yet.

“But not even blushing cheeks when he saw me this morning?” Jimin drops his head onto the desk while Hoseok groans.

“Why do you care?”

“Because him not being affected is like a punch to my ego!” Both friends get up from their seats, packing their belongings away. The entrance doors open, and students begin filtering out of the lecture hall.

“Again, why?” Hoseok swings his bag over his shoulder. 

“A hot dude jerking off next to you should have you blushing. So, now I don’t feel like a hot dude.” Jimin says, but doesn’t like how shallow the answer sounds. 

“Jimin.” The friends head towards the exit where the bodyguard with a proper posture expects them. “Is it possible that you want Jeongguk to perceive you as desirable?”

Their gazes flicker to Jeongguk who steps aside for students to stroll past him, bowing curtly at those who give him a courteous smile. 

“No.” Jimin mumbles. A ghost of a smile appears on the bodyguard’s face when he recognizes the two men in the sea of students. “I want him out of my life.” 

Hoseok scorns, jaws tense to prevent himself from saying more on the subject as Jeongguk finally shows up before them.

“I assume classes went well?” The bodyguard asks with a polite nod, looking dashing even under the horrible lighting of the hallway. Jimin hates it. 

“Yeah, I learned a lot today.” Hoseok answers instead, his nose scrunched. “Like a lot.”

Jimin nearly chokes on his own breath. One more utterance from his friend, and they might as well narrate their previous conversation to Jeongguk. In a panic, he pushes his friend into the moving crowd. 

“Unfortunately, Hoseok has to leave right away so as not to miss his pedicure appointment.” The smile on Jimin’s face is a stern warning. 

“Right. The toenails. Can’t forget about the toenails. Bye, Jeongguk!” Hoseok brightly waves at the bodyguard, winks at Jimin, and disappears within the people. 

Jimin heaves a sigh. The pressure against his chest has lessened, and his body temperature finally settles back to normal. Still, his heart races, and he makes his way towards the university’s parking lot. Not once does he turn around to face Jeongguk, nor does any of the two men try to engage in small talk. 

On one hand, it eases Jimin’s mind that he doesn't have to talk, scared he’ll blurt something embarrassing out. On the other, he’s dying to know what Jeongguk’s expression behind him is like.

However, Jimin’s curiosity stays at bay. 

They’re silent from the moment they get into the car—which has been wiped clean by Jeongguk before morning—up until the car stops before Jimin’s apartment. 

“I’ll prepare dinner, so you can settle in for the night.” Jeongguk declares with a quick glance to Jimin. Then he’s out of the car, dashing to the other side while Jimin is getting his things together. 

The rear door opens with a click, and he steps out, eyes avoiding his bodyguard.

“Thank you.” Jimin whispers, still remembering his manners. 

Next to him, Jeongguk tilts his head downward, and follows Jimin into the apartment building. The trees sway with the wind, which blows leaves through the sky. Jimin wishes his memories could be stolen like that from him. Painless, and quick. As they finally unlock the entrance, the upstairs neighbor is in the lobby, checking her mail.

“Hello, kids. How are you?” The elderly lady adjusts her glasses with a radiant grin on her face, and both men return the kind gesture. 

“We’re good. I hope you’re well?” Jimin responds with a polite bow. He’s immersed in his neighbor’s story from yesterday’s misplaced delivery when suddenly two hands faintly rest on his shoulders, and his body freezes against the burning touch. Her voice fades from Jimin’s awareness as Jeongguk leans towards him. 

“I’ll go call the elevator.” He whispers against the shell of Jimin’s ear. His bodyguard’s breath brushes over his skin, and, against his will, an icy shiver runs down the back of Jimin’s neck. 

“Okay.” Jimin’s voice cracks, and he takes a single step forward to breathe.  

Jeongguk makes his way to the elevator, and the lady observes him with a mischievous grin before giving a thumbs up to Jimin whose eyebrows furrow.

“What?”

“Oh, you’ve chosen well.” She giggles, slapping Jimin’s arm playfully. “He is such a handsome man. Much better than those you brought home before.” 

Jimin’s mouth falls agape, and a startled laugh slips out.

“No, no, no. No. Like, no, no, no.” Hysterically, Jimin waves his hands and shakes his head. Absolutely not. “No, no, no.” 

“Don’t be so shy! Nothing wrong with enjoying life.” She giggles, and Jimin swallows the growl of frustration swelling on his tongue.

“We’re not like that. He’s a friend of my father—”

“I wasn’t born yesterday, and my hearing isn’t that horrible.” She nudges Jimin with her shoulder, her eyebrows waggling. “I heard your little friend last night.” 

From afar, the escalator dings behind the neighbor, the doors sliding open. Jeongguk stretches his hand over the metal edges, awaiting Jimin’s arrival. Meanwhile, his throat dries out, wondering what nonsense this old lady is spewing out, and what ideas she’s planting in his already broken mind. 

“I’m not sure I follow.” His tone is raspy and low, his throat caught in a barbed wire. Jimin could ask for clarification, but he’s not one to trust gossip, especially not from elderly people. One last bow, and he hurriedly passes his neighbor. “But I have to go now. Nice talking to you.” 

Jimin runs into the elevator, praying that Jeongguk missed the entirety of that absurd conversation. He studies his bodyguard’s face for a shimmer of amusement or irritation, only to find him as unreadable as always. 

“Should we wait for her?” Jeongguk peeks into the lobby, but Jimin wraps his fingers around his wrist and forcefully pulls him inside. 

Jeongguk’s eyes bulge as he barely manages to stop himself from collapsing on Jimin. 

“Let’s not.” Jimin’s frantic finger pushes his floor’s buttons, then spams the one to close the doors. 

“What the hell did she say to you?” Jeongguk watches with caution, confused about his sudden urgency.

I heard your little friend last night. 

“She’s unbalanced, that’s all.” Jimin mumbles and rests his back against the wall. As if Jeongguk would ever do something as improper as jerking off in the room next to him. He doesn’t even curse around Jimin. 

“If you say so.” Jeongguk mirrors him, their shoulders mere millimeters apart. Not touching, but close enough to conjure up Jimin’s moans. Some music would certainly be helpful with stifling those sounds. Like never before, Jimin wishes his apartment wasn’t on the fifteenth floor. He can barely get air into his lungs. 

The digital number goes up one by one on the floor indicator. 

Luckily, the elevator comes to a stop, and Jimin heads to his front door without looking back. His keys jingle in his hands before he eventually locates the one for his home. A single click, and his door is unlocked. He steps into the hallway, crouching on the floor to take his shoes off. Jeongguk’s footsteps are at his back. 

“Go get comfortable. I’ll make dinner.” 

Jimin doesn’t answer, undoing his laces in peace when he feels a hand ruffle through his hair. The next second, he’s alone. 

Knotting his eyebrows, he reaches to his head where the touch lingers, but drops his hand before his fingers graze over his hair. Like Jeongguk said, he should get comfortable. And comfort is not with these thoughts racing in his mind. After washing his face and changing into his pajamas, Jimin saunters to the kitchen where his dinner waits for him on the wooden table. 

Jeongguk is clearing his plate into the sink, glancing at Jimin by the door. 

“It’s chicken wings with asparagus.” Jeongguk says, turning on the water and getting dish soap into the sponge.  

No eating together tonight, then. 

Jimin takes a seat in front of his plate, abandoning the fork and knife. He rolls up the sleeves of his loose shirt and grabs the meat, biting into it.

The grease of the spicy chicken wings coats Jimin’s fingers as strands of his hair slide over his face. Jimin huffs, throws his head back, and runs over his temples with his forearm. 

The stickiness from his dinner, his hair and his slipping sleeves tax Jimin’s patience. 

Meanwhile, Jeongguk stands by the sink, washing the dishes in silence. Wearing an apron over his stupid, perfectly ironed suit. Jimin sighs, looking down at his pajama shorts, and opens his mouth to take another bite from his chicken. Just as his bangs fall once more across his cheek, he drops the meat onto his plate.

That’s it. He’s going bald.

The splashing sound of the water stops, and Jimin’s eyes drift to Jeongguk. The bodyguard dries his hands and walks past the kitchen table, right behind Jimin.

“What are you—”

Before another word can escape Jimin’s flushed lips, rough hands gather his long hair. Gentle fingers brush over his forehead, securing every strand of hair to the back. The touch is so foreign that Jimin fears to move. 

Within seconds, his hair is in a low ponytail, and Jeongguk returns to the sink, his back turned to the stunned Jimin. The moment passes as quickly as it happened, yet Jimin feels as though time froze. A stubborn question pulses on his tongue. 

“Why do you have a hair tie? Your hair isn’t long.”

With his distractions out of the way, Jimin starts eating, chewing quietly as he stares at the back of Jeongguk’s head.

“I know.” Jeongguk answers, scrubbing the pan clean. “But yours is.” 

It’s a simple observation, mundane even. Still, Jimin’s curiosity overwhelms his appetite, and he pushes his plate back.

“What if I do?” Jimin gets up to wash his hands, but ensures that his body doesn’t come in contact with Jeongguk’s. “That’s not a reason to carry one.” 

His tone isn’t hostile, or lambasting. Jimin only wants to untangle his cluttered thoughts. 

“You’re not wrong.” Jeongguk watches him, leaning onto the counter with his hands. Jimin anticipates more to the answer, but there’s only the sound of running water. 

“You’re usually much more talkative.” Jimin grabs the towel, wiping his hands dry before turning off the tap. This conversation’s lack of bite feels strange.

“I have a lot on my mind.” 

Jimin pauses, and glances at Jeongguk. It’s one vague response after another, a very evident sign to wrap up this chat. Perhaps, he should, and go laze on his bed. Their eyes meet, and his neighbor’s words keep his feet grounded in the kitchen.

“About what?” 

Jeongguk drops his head, laughing quietly to himself. 

“Take a wild guess.” 

Jimin’s stomach stiffens, memories of last night’s car ride flash behind his eyes. His fingers twitch against the soft fabric of the towel, and he walks to the kitchen table.

It appears that breathing comes to him easier when Jeongguk is at a safe distance. 

“I’m sorry about last night.” Jimin mumbles as he looks at his unfinished dinner. All day, he’s wondered why Jeongguk hasn’t been acting differently when it’s very possible that he did. Just not in the way he had expected, or hoped. 

“It’s my duty to get you home safely. And that’s what I did. No need to apologize.” Jeongguk nods. 

As always, he’s professional and direct. Like a robot designed to be nothing else. But, Jimin isn’t talking to a machine.

“I jerked off in front of you, and you’re talking about duty?” He snaps with a growl. 

“Are you mad at me for taking my job seriously?” Jeongguk takes off the apron, folding it neatly on the counter. Not a single hint of zeal. 

“I’m not mad. I’m just—” Jimin puffs his chest out. He’s usually much better at expressing himself. “You act as if being human comes second to you.”

“That’s because I’m on my job, right now as we’re speaking. And when I’m working, I’m a shield that protects you.” There’s no offense in the way Jeongguk talks. His tone is calm, and his posture relaxed while Jimin’s entire body tenses after every spoken syllable.

“Do shields never get angry? Frustrated?” 

“We’re not supposed to. At least at our clients.” Another straightforward answer, like he’s reading them off cue cards.

Still, Jimin knows another Jeongguk. One that gets angrily in his face and whose voice laid out all of his emotions in front of Jimin like today’s chicken and asparagus. 

“But you can’t always control it.” He daringly tilts his head, observing Jeongguk’s face to catch the tiniest flinch.

“No, because we are human at the end of the day. And humans feel.” 

It’s those feelings Jimin is desperate to see again on Jeongguk’s face. The veins on his neck, the darkness in his pupils and the strained voice. 

“Then prove that you’re human. Get angry at me for being indecent in the car.” With small steps, Jimin closes the space between them. Given Jeongguk’s unmoving behavior, chances are high that the outcome of this argument will be another embarrassing memory. Maybe only another flat, monotonous response. Jimin risks another humiliation.

However, as he learned last night; there will always be a risk.

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Jeongguk chuckles, remaining still even when mischief glints across Jimin’s face. 

“I was whimpering and moving my hand while you were trying to get me home. Weren’t you pissed off? I know I would be. So, go ahead, scream at me.” The words flow out of Jimin, and his tone has shifted to the same one he’s used before on Ji-ho, Yu-jin, and all of his dates before them. Somehow, it tastes sweeter for Jeongguk. 

“Don’t push it.” He whispers, his head low. But, Jimin sees it—the quiver of his eyebrow. The smallest crack in Jeongguk’s cemented walls. The woody cologne grows stronger as Jimin’s chest brushes against Jeongguk’s. One more step forward, and not even a needle could fit between them. 

“I moaned your name, didn’t I?”

Jeongguk’s posture stiffens at the forthrightness, his fists clenched. Jimin has touched a raw nerve. With hesitation, Jeongguk lifts his head, but his gaze sticks to Jimin’s lips, as if he’s trying to find traces of the words on them. At this moment, Jimin thinks he’s won—that Jeongguk has hit the wall. But, his shock fades into the role of the consummate professional. Quirking his lips, he delicately grabs Jimin’s shoulders. 

“Yes, you did. And some more. Are we done?” Jeongguk seems to be definitive, but Jimin’s attention drifts to the hands on him.

“No, we’re not.” Jimin flicks at Jeongguk’s wrist, grinning up to his bodyguard. “Why do you keep touching me?”

As though the touch suddenly burns, Jeongguk’s hands fly off Jimin’s body, floating in the air between them. His chest heaves in sharp breaths. 

The instant response takes Jimin aback, pushing the questions of how many touches were planned today, and how many of them Jeongguk never noticed. 

“Sorry.” He mutters, his back wedged against the counter. If he could, he would have merged his body into the kitchen. Instead, he squeezes past Jimin and heads towards the kitchen's door. 

“I asked a question, not for an apology.” Jimin’s right at his heels, tugging at the back of his black jacket. 

Jeongguk’s abrupt urgency and his constant dissimulation make Jimin believe that maybe—just maybe—his neighbor hadn’t imagined the sounds. 

“Jimin, go rest while I clean—” 

“Did you masturbate after we got home?” 

Jimin collides into Jeongguk’s wide back, wobbling on his feet. To prevent his fall, he clings onto his bodyguard’s slim waist, his face pressed against his sports coat. This close, Jimin can feel a rapid heartbeat pulse beneath his cheek. Jeongguk, however, swiftly turns around and staggers backwards.

“What I do in my room is none of your business.” Jeongguk snarls, his tone curt. 

“My room.” It’s petty, but Jimin has nothing else over his bodyguard. While he’s overbearing, intrusive in his relationships, and present at every given moment, Jeongguk’s work is pure excellence. That much Jimin can’t deny.

“And that means I’m obliged to report everything I do in your room, your majesty?” His hands rest on his hips, brows raised at Jimin whose vocabulary seems to have shrunk into almost nothing because, no, Jeongguk doesn’t have to.  

It’s not like Jimin can force him to. 

“Forget it, then.” He mumbles, mortified to have had a conversation like this, especially with someone his father hired. With someone who’s seen him naked. “I’ll be in my room.” 

With a flaming face, Jimin darts past Jeongguk, keeping his eyes on the flooring. But, before he can make it into his room, a recognizable warmth stops him. Leisurely, Jimin turns to face his bodyguard who hesitates to talk.

“I didn’t mean to upset you.” Jeongguk sounds sincere once he’s found the words. Only Jimin can’t tell whether the candor comes from Jeongguk, or his bodyguard. 

“I’m not upset.” Jimin frees himself, rubbing the tingling skin. “Just embarrassed.” 

“Why?” Jeongguk glances at his empty hand, furrowing his brows. The question is laughable, but so is the entirety of this conversation—of this situation. 

“Take a wild guess.” Jimin says, and Jeongguk releases a long, shallow breath. 

“There’s nothing for you to be embarrassed about.” 

“Easy for you to say.” Jimin mumbles, picking at the skin around his thumb. It wasn’t Jeongguk who exposed himself foolishly. Who spent every minute of the day thinking about it, thinking about him.

“Jimin, I—” Jeongguk’s hands mess up his styled hair as he wets his bottom lip, releasing a shaky breath. “I did it, okay? So, stop worrying about shame, or whatever.” 

The hallway falls silent, and Jimin only hears his own heartbeat hammering in his chest. Jeongguk’s words don’t sound real to him, but the images in his head feel tangible, prickling at his fingertips.

The answer he’s been anticipating all day, and yet his brain fails to conceive a single thing to say. 

“You… did?” Jimin’s wit is buried underneath the shock, his mouth parched. “Like, yesterday… You touched…“ 

Jimin glimpses down at Jeongguk’s pants, but quickly averts his gaze upwards. To his surprise, all of the blood seems to have rushed to Jeongguk’s cheeks and ears. 

“Yeah, thinking about the car ride.” He mumbles, his voice wavering, but he doesn’t divert his eyes. He holds his ground, like the well-trained bodyguard he is. 

Jimin’s eyes widen, unsure how to handle the thrill surging through him. 

“The car ride, right.” Heavy strains clamp around his bones as he sneaks a peek at his closed bedroom door. “So, we’re even, I guess.”

Run away, run. 

His alerting thoughts bounce off the shriveling room, clustering at his conscience. Jimin doesn’t trust his body, his mouth nor his mind after yesterday, every part of him having double-crossed him before.

“Yeah, we’re even.” Jeongguk nods, coughing into his fist. 

The tension hangs heavy between them, and both only want to escape from the other. 

“Great.” Jimin’s throat is tight, barely able to get sounds out. “I’ll be in my room.”

“Great.” Jeongguk winces and tilts his head. “Me too.”

Disregarding the mess in the kitchen, they both walk into their respective rooms. Jeongguk’s door slams shut in a second, and Jimin follows right after, his hands pushing against the wooden surface as quick gasps escape his lips. 

He should have just eaten his dinner and stayed curious. Knowing is by far worse than wondering.

Jimin recoils deeper into his room, attempting to find a distraction. But, his room is cleaned, his bed made and his clothes neatly folded in his closet. His to-do list is empty, apart from his university work. Yet, there’s no way Jimin can think of assignments and lectures—think of anything other than Jeongguk’s hand wrapped around his own shaft. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He hisses, twirling the ends of his hair around his finger and pulling at the strand. Today, he’s not drunk, Jeongguk didn’t interrupt a kiss, and they aren’t caged in a small space. There’s a wall between them. 

The conditions are greatly varied with no real grounds for desire. Nevertheless, Jimin senses it, the distinct tingle along his cock.

“You horny bastard.” Jimin’s lungs feel airless at the sensation, and his feet rush to the door of the balcony which swings open, and a fresh breeze blows into the room. He takes deep breaths, hoping to mellow the increasing pressure in his nether region.

He closes his eyes, reminding himself that it’s Jeongguk for fuck’s sake.

They tolerate each other—push each other’s limits and annoy the other. This coiling feeling should be unfamiliar where Jeongguk is concerned. However, it isn’t. It’s everything, but unfamiliar. It’s exhilarating, like the first sip of alcohol on a night out, and, too quickly, Jimin gets drunk on the sensation. 

It happens before his brain can form another string of excuses. His legs carry him out of the room, and he stops in front of Jeongguk’s room—his room, oh my God. Jimin raises his fist, hesitant to knock. His knuckles rest against the wood for a second or two, his mind trying to think of what to say, but he can’t come up with anything. So, with no plan, he decides against the courtesy, and bursts into the room. 

Pacing around his carpet, Jeongguk wrings his hands with his expression tight. At the sound of the door, he flinches on the spot, staring stunned at Jimin as his speech fails him.

Jeongguk waits for him to talk, to explain why he’s in his room. Still, Jimin is as tongue-tied as his bodyguard. Instead of offering answers, he walks into the room, his feet unsteady. 

“Is there something I can do for you?” Jeongguk straightens his posture, but, with his disheveled hair, Jimin doesn’t see his bodyguard.

In front of him is Jeongguk, the man he’s been thinking about all day. 

“I’m…” He gulps. “I was thinking about you last night. In the car.”

Jeongguk’s face tenses, a tempting, but feeble, flicker crosses his pupils. Yet, it’s enough to bolster Jimin’s confidence. 

“Jimin, I’m your bodyguard.” Jeongguk says in warning, but his body doesn’t turn away as his hands tremble at his sides. It’s not an outright rejection, so Jimin takes daring strides towards him. 

“No, right now, you’re not.” He glances at Jeongguk’s messy head. “My bodyguard’s hair is always perfectly styled.” 

Ever since they left campus, Jeongguk's touch has lingered on Jimin. In the lobby. In the hallway. In the kitchen. It would only be fair to switch the roles around for once. 

Careful fingers slide under Jeongguk’s sports coat, pushing it off his shoulders. “I never see him without his blazer.” 

Heat radiates from Jeongguk. Or, it’s Jimin’s skin burning up. Perhaps, it’s both. Still, Jeongguk doesn’t shy away from Jimin’s antics, allowing his hands to travel to the collar of his shirt where he unhooks the first two buttons. 

“All of his buttons are done.” 

Jimin doesn’t dare to look up. Too many possibilities push around his mind, and he’s not sure which one he desires to see. 

As he inspects the dark mole on Jeongguk’s neck, two strong hands curl around his wrists, preventing them from any more movement. For a moment, Jimin believes that he’s gone too far, and that the bodyguard will draw a thick, unbreakable line between them.

Jeongguk, however, remains unmoving with only his breathing skimming over Jimin’s upper lip. They’re tip-toeing on the boundary between profession and personal, but the line keeps thinning, and thinning, until Jimin stumbles over.

“To me, you’re just Jeongguk. The man who came to pick me up yesterday.” 

Jeongguk’s breath hitches, his eyes fluttering shut as he releases Jimin from his tender hold. He steps back, but not enough for his warmth to abandon Jimin.  

“You can’t do this to me.” Jeongguk’s voice quivers, his hand rubbing over the nape of his neck. 

The sight of a distraught Jeongguk pushes Jimin into a corner. While his own curiosity overwhelmed him to act on impulse, he doesn’t wish Jeongguk to feel obliged to go along with his shenanigans. 

“Do you want me to leave?” 

“No.” Jeongguk replies before Jimin even can finish his question. The short answer electrifies Jimin, whose satisfaction is barely containable on his face. 

In the silence of the four bedroom walls, and like on many occasions before, Jeongguk’s gaze drops to Jimin’s parted lips. However, this time is one too many.

“Jeongguk.” Jimin narrows the distance between them until he’s close enough to cradle his bodyguard’s face. The touch has both flinching, but neither pulling away. “Just do what you want to do.” 

The clock on the desk ticks with every second. Each click grows louder with every moment of Jeongguk not speaking. But the stretch of time doesn’t make Jimin anxious as much as he thought it would. Because there’s no facade on Jeongguk’s face, no professional distance. No, he leans into Jimin’s touch, pressing his cheek into the soft palm.

“I want to kiss you.”

The confession is laid out in front of Jimin without his position muffling it. It’s straightforward and unadorned. Yet, it ripples through Jimin’s body like a wave in a storm, and he falters to stay still on his feet. That thrill only spreads further, when Jeongguk, in careful movements, embraces him. Jimin melts into the hug, his breath hitching.

With their bodies pressed together , Jimin senses a long hardness against his crotch, and his trembling hands reach for Jeongguk’s nape.  

“All night and day, I’ve thought about you.” His breath tickles Jimin’s earlobe, where he leaves a single, small peck, fingers slipping underneath the pajama shirt. The faint contact has Jimin racking his hands through Jeongguk’s hair.

The kisses, however, don’t stop there.

Jeongguk leaves a trail of gentle pecks all over Jimin’s heated face until his lips are the only untouched place. “Wondered whether you imagined me, or Yu-jin.” 

For a moment, jealousy seems to lace Jeongguk’s words. Jealousy, which sounds sweeter than any excessive flattery ever could. “And now that I know I….” 

Their lips graze against each other, a glimpse of elation, and Jimin’s shoulders tense. But, the sensation is short-lived and fails to blaze the flame inside his body. 

“Jeongguk.” Jimin nuzzles his nose against Jeongguk’s, blinking his doe eyes up to him. “Please.”

His plea ceases in a whimper, and Jimin drowns in a daze as Jeongguk’s thumb caresses the outlines of his mouth, his patience tapering.

“I want you.” He growls, his hands tugging at Jeongguk’s black hair in hopes of making his resolution evident. 

Then, finally, Jeongguk brushes his lips across Jimin’s and kisses him. Kisses him to taste him, to discover every crevice of his mouth as the gentleness vanishes between their lips.

Swirling butterflies during a kiss has happened before to Jimin, happened enough times for him to learn how to keep his head clear. However, this is no adorable little tingle, or explosive fireworks. Jimin can barely breathe through the kiss, and still the touch of Jeongguk’s lips feels like the first gasp of air after drowning for too long.

As though his body has replaced his need for oxygen with Jeongguk. 

Jimin tilts his head, their lips already intertwined in a dirty, erratic dance, and yet he mutely pleads for more. Mutely, because he would rather never speak again than pull away from this kiss. Something he would never say aloud. Still, somehow, Jeongguk understands, and glides his tongue into Jimin’s welcoming mouth. The warmth is irrepressible, engulfing every inch of Jimin’s mouth.

Their tastes mingle together, imprinting into the other’s senses. The sounds of their wet tongues are lewd, every so often interrupted by husky moans, and fill the bedroom with traces of their desires. 

Fleetingly, thoughts questioning why muses in Jimin’s mind—why take it this far, and why with Jeongguk. It should stop at the kiss, turning into yet another embarrassing story to tell Hoseok, but the rising temperature in Jimin’s body confines him in his body, and he forgets about the why’s. 

“Clothes off, please. Please, Jeongguk.” Jimin begs, pulling at his loose shirt to allow some air between the fabric and skin. But Jeongguk doesn’t draw back immediately, his finger teasingly moves across the waistband of the pajamas as he bites down on Jimin’s flushed lip. 

“That’s not what you called me last night.” He grunts, his voice low and rough. 

“What?” Jimin’s brows furrow. His mind is too clouded to comprehend what Jeongguk is implying—to remember what he’s forgotten.

“Come on, Jimin.” With a firm hold, Jeongguk tilts Jimin’s head up, and their glossy eyes lock for the first time since their lips connected. Jimin stares at a delirious man with lips coated in a mix of their saliva, and he knows his expression mirrors the same desperation. 

“I cook, clean and do the laundry for you.” Jeongguk mutters, caressing the pad of his thumb over the outline of Jimin’s mouth. Through quick pants and a racing heartbeat, Jimin attempts to listen to the spoken words. But, he struggles because Jeongguk doesn’t offer him a moment of placidness. No, he plants one short, but inviting kiss after the other on Jimin’s parted lips. 

“I even drive you wherever you want to go.” His other hand travels down, rootedly cupping Jimin’s ass. “What does that make me?”

A memory of the car ride forces its way onto the surface, and Jimin hears himself. From moans to senseless requests, he relives all of it with shame. However, one single word stands out, echoing again and again in his head until everything else stifles into silence—until Jimin remembers. The recollection has his stomach drawing together, wondering to himself what his drunken mind was thinking. Yet, Jeongguk stands in front of him, eyes expecting, and, instead of being humiliated, Jimin feels excited.

How surprising, especially for someone like Jeongguk.

“My hyung.” 

Jimin breathes out, placing his hands on Jeongguk’s shoulders with a smile on his face. As the word tumbles past his mouth, Jeongguk’s finger on his face trembles while his other hand firmly squeezes his ass. “Hyung, please, take off my clothes.”

Jeongguk’s eyes darken as they stare at Jimin’s lips, smirking quietly to himself. 

“Good boy.” 

The praise sends intoxicating shockwaves through Jimin’s body, which grows more frenetic when Jeongguk brushes his blond strands behind his ear. Jimin decides that he’s always been into role playing, and that it isn’t because of Jeongguk’s hungry expression that he plays along. At a slow pace, Jeongguk leans down, capturing Jimin’s lips in another heated kiss while his hands work on undressing Jimin. Each clothing item drops to the floor with a faint thud as the two men stumble towards the king sized bed. 

They plunge onto the mattress, and Jimin is wearing only his underwear while Jeongguk is still fully dressed, only missing the coat from his suit. Not that Jimin is complaining. He lies spread out on the bed, nails scratching Jeongguk’s back through the fabric of the shirt—it’s a very attractive back, no wonder it kept flashing in his mind when he was with Yu-jin. His wandering thoughts are disrupted by a hot mouth, sucking and licking his sensitive neck until the proof of Jeongguk’s desires bruises his skin. 

“What else can hyung do for you?” Jeongguk whispers, moving further down to Jimin’s nipples while two of his fingers hook around the waistband of the underwear. Glancing up to the gasping boy under him, Jeongguk slowly takes off the last piece of clothing, providing enough time for Jimin to retract—to redraw the line between them. 

However, the only thing that comes from Jimin is a soft whine when his dick emerges from his underwear. Erect and wet in precum.

Mentally, Jimin prepares for the rush of pleasure to overwhelm him once Jeongguk’s rugged hand wraps around him, yet that touch doesn’t come. Instead, Jeongguk lowers his head and bites at Jimin’s nipple before engulfing the nub with his tongue. It’s not the relief Jimin anticipated, but his back still arches into it, moans becoming more breathy with each swipe of the tongue. Jeongguk alternates between the pecs, leaving Jimin’s nipple red and swollen by the time he’s satisfied.  

“Jeongguk.” Jimin pants, grabbing Jeongguk’s shoulders and weakly pushing him down towards his shuddering thighs. “Touch me.”

“Is that how you ask?” Jeongguk teases, sitting up to stare at Jimin’s leaking cock with precum gathering at the base, and breaks into a smile. 

Amidst his arousal, Jimin’s ego shouts at him; Jeongguk is enjoying himself too much, smiling like he’s never done before. 

After knowing Jeongguk for two months, Jimin learns about the dimples on his cheeks, subtle but magnetic, and he wonders what else he doesn’t know. Caging his tongue between his teeth, he looks down at Jeongguk’s hard dick, the big bulge hidden underneath his clothes. At the sight, his hole clenches, his knuckles strained. His composure is one lewd thought away from crumbling. With a deep breath, he rolls to the side and reaches for the nightstand where he pulls out a bottle of lube. 

Whether or not Jeongguk has questions about the reason for lubricant in the guest room, he doesn’t ask them. 

“I’ll do it myself then.” Jimin purrs, pulling his knees to his chest, and unveils all of himself. In front of him, Jeongguk tenses up, but doesn’t argue back. Not when Jimin opens the bottle and the liquid dribbles onto his fingers. Not when Jimin’s hand moves between his legs. Certainly not when a shy finger pushes into Jimin’s hole, and his head falls back on the headboard. 

Jimin fingers himself, squirming with his eyes squeezed shut. Despite wanting to see Jeongguk’s expression, he can’t bring himself to look, and focuses on stretching himself open. His moans linger in the room, his thighs trembling. 

The bed shifts, and Jimin senses warmth hovering close to his body. The euphoria in his body intensifies, pushing Jimin to add another finger in his hole, while the sound of trickling lube rings in his ears. With his eyes closed, Jimin furrows his brows, and opens his mouth to raise a question. Yet, his words get caught in his throat when a long, thin sensation thrusts into his wet hole. 

Whirling, white stars dance behind Jimin’s eyelids, his body shivering every time his prostate is jabbed, and he realizes that Jeongguk added his finger. Jimin swallows hard—they’re fingering him together. 

Talk about bodyguard and client bonding. 

“Jeonggukie—hyung. Wait, wait.” Jimin’s back arches as Jeongguk curves his finger downward. “There—it’s good, so good.” 

“Jimin, baby. Keep your hand moving.” Jeongguk places a kiss on his chin, then on the reddish mark on his neck. All Jimin can do is nod with his lips pressed together, his fingers pushing in and out of his hole. “That’s right, baby. Just like that.”

Each time the word baby resonates in his ears, Jimin’s legs twitch and a whine falls off his mouth. The pet name is more intimate than anything else they’re doing right now, and Jimin feels foolish to even compare. 

The room is hot, and the sounds of four fingers inside of him—two of his and two of Jeongguk’s—are animalistic, and, as much as he enjoys it, he wishes it were a cock pounding him. 

“Hyung? I’m ready, please.” Jimin’s pleading gaze meets Jeongguk’s as his pulse throbs in his neck. Many times in the past, Jimin tried to persuade Jeongguk into listening to him, and not once did he succeed. He doesn’t know Jeongguk’s weaknesses—only that his gaze would always find his lips. 

Hesitating, Jimin tilts forward and, for the first time, initiates the kiss. Jeongguk doesn’t hesitate to reciprocate, opening his mouth to let Jimin’s tongue swirl around his, and Jimin’s attention sets on sucking Jeongguk’s tongue. Both moan and huff into each other’s mouths, blending their tastes into one. Just when Jimin wants to spell out another plea to be fucked, a thick shaft penetrates his hole alongside his fingers, and time comes to a halt.

The pressure is indescribable, but addictive. He gasps, tightly clasping the bedsheets while Jeongguk plants one gentle kiss on his temple.

“You’re doing good, so good.” He mutters with another peck to the cheek. “Does it hurt?”

Jimin’s eyes widen as the muscles on his stomach tenses.  

“You—You…” He gulps, glancing down where he sees his fingers and Jeongguk’s dick buried in his hole. After wondering countless times if this ever crossed his stern and obedient bodyguard’s mind, pride prickles through Jimin’s body. A smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “You asshole.”

“If you have the energy to insult me, then I guess you’re not in pain.” 

The snarky answer already sits at the tip of Jimin’s tongue, but instead a string of moans slip out after Jeongguk starts pulling his hips down hard, the fabric of the pants slapping against Jimin’s skin. All while Jeongguk’s hard dick rubs against Jimin’s fingers.

“Fuck, Jeongguk.” Jimin moans at the fullness while his other hand holds on to the shirt, pulling their bodies as close as possible. Not even a day ago, Jimin would have never imagined this kind of closeness between them. 

“That’s right. Jeongguk-hyung.” The answer sends shivers down Jimin’s spine, his toe curling. In a swift manner, Jeongguk draws out Jimin’s fingers, bringing his hand between their faces. “It’s your hyung fucking you.”

“Not Ji-ho. Not Yu-jin. But me.” 

A sudden sweetness engulfs his mouth, the taste amplifying after every sentence. But, Jimin can’t place it with his mind dazed by pleasure. His lubed fingers tap against his lips, and without hesitation, Jimin parts his lips, sucking his own digits clean. “Look at who’s fucking your tight little hole.”

Racking his fingers into Jimin’s hair, Jeongguk gently presses his head down, forcing him to look at the dick disappearing inside of him, and Jimin tightens around Jeongguk’s shaft.

“My… My Jeonggukie-hyung—ngh!” Jimin whimpers against his fingers, throwing his head back when Jeongguk continuously hits his sweet spot. “Don’t stop. Please, please don’t stop.”

With every thrust, Jimin’s orgasm approaches, tickling at the base of his flushed dick. He’s desperate to cum—has been ever since Jeongguk tied his hair back in the kitchen. So, he reaches down to his cock, enveloping it in his hold, but Jeongguk yanks his hand onto the mattress, intertwining their hands. 

“But, I’m so close, so so close.” Jimin chokes out, almost sobbing.

“You’re already clenching hard on me, baby.” Jeongguk sucks Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth. “You’ll be cumming any second now.”

Jimin believes Jeongguk is merely trying to stretch the duration of the sex, to avoid the horrors of the clarity after the orgasm. But, his body jerks the way it always does when his balls and muscles around his groin tighten. It only grows stronger when Jeongguk changes the angle, and fucks mercilessly into his prostate. 

“Jeongguk—There, exactly there.” Jimin whines, his vision blurred with tears of stimulation. 

“I know.” Jeongguk kisses him, sweeping Jimin’s hair off his face. “I know, baby.”

Their bodies mingle together as droplets of precum smear over Jeongguk’s abs, an evident indicator that Jimin only needs one good, final thrust to have him see the plucked stars from the night sky. Within seconds, Jimin’s body tenses up, his mind exploding in pleasure. Thick, white cum pulses onto both of their chests, his breathing sharp and shallow. However, Jeongguk’s hips don’t stop moving, still chasing his high.

And Jimin whines and squirms underneath him, too sensitive to continue, but he doesn’t ask Jeongguk to stop. The last thing he wants to do is stop.

So, they don’t until deep into the morning. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁✿❀༺ ˎˊ-

When Jimin wakes up in the morning, the bed is empty but warm with the remote sounds coming from the kitchen. Breakfast is probably about to be done, and if Jimin isn’t wrong about the day, he has classes today. All the good reasons to get up, but Jimin’s body doesn’t want to leave the bed. Scared that when his feet touch the ground, everything will feel too real. 

“Pull yourself together.” He mumbles to himself, looking down at the loose, white t-shirt hugging his frame. It’s Jeongguk’s, and Jimin kicks his feet under the bedsheet, fingertips pressing against his shut eyes. 

He’s had sex with Jeongguk. Jeongguk. 

The worst part of it all is that Jimin enjoyed it—No, he was consumed by every touch, every move, and he was loud, saying things he'd never dared to even think. But, now it’s over. The ecstasy of the sex is gone, and Jimin doesn’t know how to walk into the kitchen to eat. How to look at Jeongguk and trust himself to remain collected. Still, time doesn’t wait for Jimin to find the answers. He takes a single long breath and gets up from the bed, his lower body sore.

Jimin tiptoes to his room where he passes by his mirror, and pauses. His inner thigh and neck are covered in purple hickeys, blood rushing to Jimin’s face. Grabbing the hem of the shirt, he lifts it over his chest to reveal even more bruises. 

“That crazy bastard.” Jimin whispers, brushing his finger over the mark under his ear. With a heated chest, he drops the shirt, and decides to freshen up instead of allowing his mind to relive the making of every hickey. 

The walk to the kitchen feels too short, and before Jimin knows it, he’s looking at Jeongguk’s back, his bodyguard wearing his ironed suit as he prepares breakfast for both of them. Yet, a small detail catches Jimin’s attention; Jeongguk’s hair isn’t sleeked back like usual, but parted in the middle. That’s definitely new.

Tilting his head, Jimin opens his mouth to greet Jeongguk, but his tongue betrays him.

“About… About last night.” Jimin winces at the sound of his own voice as Jeongguk turns around, his face blank. “Was it just in the heat of the moment or—”

Both of their phones ding, and Jimin excuses himself while Jeongguk reaches for his own phone. They unlock their screens, and pull their brows together.

dad | 8:03am

a replacement for jeongguk is coming. don't know for how long