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Daegu Drift

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‘Daegu Drift’

Chapter 1: ‘Daegu’

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Jimin is about twenty minutes from Daegu, on his way to the Daegu Street Motor Festival, when a motorcycle roars up from behind him. He can see it approaching in his side mirror as it rumbles down the fast lane, passing on the right whenever it runs across slightly slower cars blocking its way. Jimin, who has been in the traveling lane for quite a while now since he’s not in any particular rush, assumes the biker will just continue on past him, but instead the biker slows down and matches his speed with Jimin’s.

It may have something to do with the fact that Jimin is driving a Bugatti. Not exactly the most inconspicuous vehicle, and he knows plenty of guys get hard-ons just from a glimpse of Jimin’s supercar.

The motorcyclist keeps glancing at Jimin; he can't see the guy’s face due to the darkly tinted glass on his equally black helmet, but it's clear each time he turns his head. He pulls up close along the driver's side, revving his engine obnoxiously. Jimin only laughs and waves him off. His window is tinted, but not significantly, so he knows the guy can see him. The biker purposely swerves away before coming in so close Jimin swears and nearly slams down on the brakes. 

"What the fuck! Asshole!"

Abruptly the man pulls his bike up into a wheelie, driving in front of Jimin's car. 

"Show off," Jimin mutters. He is careful with his speed; the last thing he needs is to get into an accident and run over the idiot. There’s no chance of survival for the biker if that is to happen.

The motorcycle drops both wheels to the ground and falls back again, this time driving along Jimin's passenger side. Jimin decides he's had enough, and switches into sport mode, shoving down the gas pedal and pulling far ahead of the motorcycle. It doesn't take long for the biker to catch up to him, though. The constant revving of the motorcycle's engine is extremely annoying and yet almost musical in the way each rumble is perfectly timed and rhythmic.

“How long is he going to follow me?” Jimin mutters under his breath. “Fuckin’ stalker.”

Jimin’s police scanner suddenly beeps, signaling a cop somewhere up ahead, and he quickly drops his speed back down, letting the biker go on ahead. Sure enough, he passes a cop lurking under an overpass, but it appears he didn’t bother going after the biker. Too bad.

He glances at his GPS; he’s not far from the motel. He figures he’ll check in, and then see about getting something quick for dinner. He hasn’t eaten since breakfast, and even though he’s only been on the road for close to an hour now, he’d forgotten to eat lunch in the chaos of packing to leave. He’s not heading back to Busan after he’s done with Daegu, but continuing on to Seoul, so the tiny trunk behind the engine is currently packed full of luggage that he’ll have to dump in his motel room before heading out to the show in the morning.

Jimin can certainly afford to stay in better accommodation, but he’s always had a tendency to only spend his money on his cars. If he didn’t mention it, no one would ever guess that he owns a car worth nearly two billion won. Jimin’s bank account would probably give his ‘friends’ heart attacks, but that’s what happens when someone pulling in the figures he does chooses to go to cheap family restaurants, wears clothes until they wear out, and almost never spends his money otherwise. He even has an economy-friendly car to drive to work or use when he offers rides to people. He likes having this little secret to himself.

Once he reaches the motel, he unloads his bags, dumping them on the bland motel room’s sofa before heading back out to grab some sustenance.

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Stomach full of teokbokki and sundae, Jimin returns to the motel to chill and look up some more info about the show tomorrow. When he pulls back into his room’s parking spot, he notices a vaguely familiar motorcycle a few spaces away. He bites back a laugh. Maybe the guy is going to the show, too. Jimin doesn’t know much about motorcycles, but the bike is customized and clearly well taken care of.

He flicks on all of the yellowy lights in the room and pulls the curtains shut before shucking off his city clothes. It’s a relief to walk around in bare feet and just a thin t-shirt and boxers; he’ll be back in his relatively uncomfortable stylish clothes tomorrow, and he plans to enjoy the freedom while he can. After spending some time on his tablet, he decides to go get a couple beers from the vending machine he’d seen in the motel lobby, so he throws his jeans back on and shoves his bare feet into his Timberlands. He slips back outside after making sure his wallet is safely in his pocket.

Jimin is backing up from the machine, two cans of beers and a bottle of soju in hand (and elbow) when he bumps into someone.

“Oops, sorry, man,” Jimin says as he turns toward the young man he’s bumped into. He’s just about the same height as Jimin; either a centimeter taller or shorter, he isn’t entirely sure, but their eyes are level, and although Jimin knows he has never seen the man before, he swears he can see a flash of recognition in the dark brown eyes.

“Bugatti boy,” the man grins, and suddenly Jimin has a feeling that this is the owner of the motorcycle. He frowns.

“Are you stalking me?”

The man pokes his tongue out of the corner of his mouth between a smirk. His black hair is messy, a little fluffy as if he’s been running his hands through it—which is entirely likely if he had to fix it after pulling off his helmet. He’s dressed in simple clothes; just a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt, with sandals on his pale bare feet. He’s got a number of piercings in his ears, but no tattoos that Jimin can see.

“No, man; I got here before you did; maybe I should ask if you’re stalking me?” He gives Jimin a very obvious once over. “Not that I can say I’d mind,” he adds in a quieter, offhand tone, almost not meant for Jimin to hear, but he does. He clutches the cans and bottle tighter. He’s used to receiving raunchy comments from strangers; it comes with having an attractive, soft-featured face and a slender, toned body that is on the small side of the male spectrum. But the initial comments always throw him off when they come without him expecting them. Like now, while he’s not even dressed up or flirting. He prefers those raunchy comments when he’s already in a flirting mood.

He moves aside when it’s clear that the guy is trying to get to the vending machine as well.

“Are you here for the motor show?” the biker asks as he scans the choices. “I’ve got some friends with cars in it tomorrow; we’re also having a rally afterward once all the cops get lost. If you’re interested in joining.”

A rally. It’s been a while since Jimin has raced, but it’s another one of his secret thrills. He doesn’t commit to it now, but he hums and says he’ll think about it.

“See you tomorrow, I guess,” he shrugs as he turns to go back to his room.

“I’ll hold you to that, then,” the biker says, straightening back up from collecting his alcohol. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Jimin walks back to his room, looking forward to the buzz of alcohol. He thinks about the way the biker’s eyes had scanned his body, and then he thinks back to the way he’d shown off on the expressway. Jimin wets his lips and pops open one of the cans of beer as he sinks down onto his bed, and tips his head back to take a long, cold gulp.

A while later, after he’s showered and his heartrate is beginning to calm down from the quick jerking off in the shower, Jimin picks out his clothing for the next day and then settles back onto the relatively comfortable motel bed. He flips through the channels on the TV for a bit, accidentally running across the porn channel. He raises his eyebrows, finger hovering over the skip button on the remote. Aren’t these kinds of channels supposed to be paid-for-view, so kids didn’t happen across them? He snorts slightly. This motel is clearly no five-star; it’s probably more like one-and-a-half-stars, maybe two. Seedy. He watches as the muscular man on the screen pounds into a well-endowed but small woman for a minute or so; he cringes at the weird camera angles and the way the man keeps calling the woman things like “slut” and “whore,” and other derogatory terms. Not exactly Jimin’s cup of tea, and not just because he prefers men over women, although occasionally he does take a woman to his bed. He switches the channel and falls asleep watching some vaguely interesting documentary about underwater creatures.

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The next day dawns bright and sunny, only a few clouds in the sky. Jimin wakes up early to get his morning exercise in, taking a quick run around the block before coming back to finish with a bit of yoga in his room. He notices a couple of fancy cars in the motel parking lot, but the motorcycle is gone already by the time he gets back from his run. Jimin wonders if he’ll actually run into the biker again. He takes another shower and then heads on over to the motor show.

Loud music is playing, gorgeous girls in skimpy outfits are posing for pictures in front of cars, while plenty of kids run around getting excited about the cars on display. Jimin’s Bugatti is parked beside an Aston Martin with a gorgeous orange chrome wrap with a black matte rear, which makes the BMW on the other side of it look plain with its simple dark chrome body and black stripe detail. It’s been customized with a large back wing and rear diffusers, though, and Jimin smiles appreciatively at the beautiful vehicle as he wanders past it. There are numerous beautiful cars on display, and Jimin takes his time admiring them.

 A little after noon, Jimin is leaning back in a foldable chair, enjoying a nice cold iced coffee with his lunch when a very tall young man plops down into the other seat at his small table. He looks up in amusement at the man who nearly looks like a teenager, but holds an elegant air to him that Jimin doesn’t believe a mere teenager can carry. It could also have something to do with the various items of Gucci he wears on his person.

“I hear that beautiful Bugatti parked next to my car belongs to you,” the man-boy says, folding his arms and grinning.

“Yeah, that’s me,” he confirms. Jimin’s purposely staying on the sidelines, preferring to watch as people drool over his car, rather than need to engage in all of the technical conversations that he’s sure a number of the show attendees would love to have with him.

“That didn’t take you long,” another, more familiar voice speaks up from just over Jimin’s shoulder. He glances over to see the biker. Of course.

“Kim Taehyung,” the man-boy across from Jimin says suddenly, holding out his hand for Jimin to shake.

“Park Jimin.” He resists the urge to grimace when Taehyung’s eyes light up in delight at how small Jimin’s hand is—he’s plenty used to the look people get when they’re about to declare how tiny and adorable he is—and he turns back to the biker. “And you? Am I going to finally get your name this time?” he jokes, watching as the man steals a chair from another table and parks himself right next to Jimin. Their knees are nearly touching.

“Min Yoongi, at your service,” he says dryly, also holding out his hand. This time, the little quirk of his lips and the way he squeezes Jimin’s hand between his much larger one makes Jimin feel a little bit flustered, but in a good way. He finds he likes the way Yoongi’s hand wraps around his own. He draws his hand back and takes a long sip of coffee to cool himself down. It doesn't help that the sun is beating down on his dark hair.

“Yoongi-hyung was telling me about you,” Taehyung says, now leaning forward on his elbows and resting his chin on his hands as he stares at Jimin. He has the face of a model; slender, perfectly proportioned, and flawless, but with the free spirit of an artist. What is it with beautiful people flocking to Jimin? Not that he’s complaining. But he doesn’t trust beautiful people.

“Was he, now.” Jimin takes a bite of his sandwich—he’s eating western today—and sends a side-look at Yoongi. The man in question is adjusting the silver bracelets on his wrist, and checking the time on a smart-looking Rolex. The veins stand out attractively on his hands, but then Yoongi shoves his hands into his pockets, and Jimin has to look up again before he’s caught appreciating the view.

“You should join in our rally after people clear out,” Taehyung insists, voice low but excited.

“You drive the…Aston Martin, was it?” Jimin asks around another sip of coffee, thinking back to which car had been next to his own. “Nice chrome wrap, by the way.”

“Thanks. Yeah, that that’s the one. Today, anyway,” Taehyung grins, and Yoongi snorts next to him. He wonders what kind of inside joke they have between them. “Even Yoongi-hyung is racing today; Namjoon-hyung brought his car—the Z4 next to my baby.”

Jimin raises his eyebrows at Yoongi, surprised. “You race cars, as well?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have any of my own. So I just borrow Namjoon’s.”

“Namjoon-hyung likes fast cars, but he doesn’t race. So he lets Yoongi-hyung borrow his for things like this.” Taehyung picks up the laminated paper menu propped up in the small condiments tray, and scans it with vague interest.

“He lives vicariously through me,” Yoongi smirks.

Jimin is curious to see how Yoongi handles the Z4.

“Yoongi-hyung!” They all turn when a tall and well-built kid—maybe nineteen or twenty at most—with dark brown hair comes running up to their table. “Yoongi-hyung,” he says again, stopping and grabbing Yoongi’s shoulder. “We need to get ready for the show.” Jimin realizes the kid is speaking Busan dialect.

Yoongi stands up immediately. “Oh, fuck. What time is it?” he asks, even though he has that Rolex on his wrist.

“We’ve got twenty minutes.”

“Good. That’s just enough time.” The biker briefly turns back to Jimin and Taehyung. “I’ll see you later.” That is aimed at Taehyung, but then his hand is on Jimin’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. “You should join the rally. Tae will give you all the info.” The hand slides down a few centimeters before lifting just enough that Yoongi can give him a friendly pat. Then without any explanation, he and the tall kid run off.

“Show?” Jimin wonders aloud.

“Yeah, Yoongi-hyung and Jungkook are doing a motorcycle show. You know, with stunts and stuff.”

Jimin recalls the way Yoongi drove on the expressway, and he doesn’t find it hard at all to believe that this is something the biker would do.

“Do you plan to watch?”

Taehyung grins. “’Course. Gotta Instagram it since those two idiots don’t know how to keep up with social media. They’re such failures at life sometimes.” He rolls his eyes. “Do you mind if I eat with you? I think I might order something.”

“Knock yourself out. I might tag along to watch the motorcycle show, anyway.”

Taehyung orders only a quick bulgogi lunch wrap since he doesn’t want to risk it taking too long, and they chat as they eat. Apparently he and Jimin are the same age, mere months apart. Yoongi is two and a half years older than Jimin, and Jeon Jungkook, who he’s seen less than thirty seconds of, is almost exactly two years younger, at twenty. He is right about Jungkook being from Busan, whereas both Taehyung and Yoongi are Daegu born and raised.

“If Yoongi’s a local, why is he staying at the same motel as I am?” he asks at one point, crumpling up the wrapper from his sandwich, and glancing around for a bin.

“Oh, he may live in Daegu, but he’s not so close that he can just show up without a long drive,” Taehyung explains. I always offer him a place to sleep at mine, but he never takes me up on the offer. Dunno what his problem is.” Taehyung glances at his phone for the time. “We’d better start heading over. I want to get a good spot to shoot the boys.”

When Jimin stands up, he realizes just how tall Taehyung is, and rolls his eyes when the man-boy gleefully wraps his arm around his shoulders.

“Come on, let’s go!”

There’s a large crowd gathered already by the time they get to the cleared out parking lot. There are ramps and various obstacles arranged around the space. Jimin follows Taehyung over to a group of guys he seems to know. Everyone greets him enthusiastically, and Jimin is introduced.

“So you’re the owner of the Bugatti,” the tall man named Kim Namjoon—not related to Taehyung—says, reaching out to shake Jimin’s hand without taking his other hand away from where it’s curled around the waist of a beautiful woman with long black hair who gives off a “don’t fuck with me” vibe. She’s introduced as May, his girlfriend. She smiles as she shakes Jimin’s hand.

“Yeah. I guess Min Yoongi-ssi has been spreading the word,” he jokes lightly.

“You’ve got that right,” says a man with such a dictionary-definition of the perfect attractive Korean face that Jimin wonders if he’s had plastic surgery, or if he was just extraordinarily blessed. His name is Kim Seokjin, although everyone seems to be calling him ‘Jin-hyung.’ “Everyone wanted to know who was driving the Bugatti, since there are what, probably only three or four in all of Korea? And when Yoongi told us that some kid was driving it, we just had to see.”

“Is that what he called me,” Jimin raises his eyebrows, unimpressed.

He’s introducing himself to Jung Hoseok—finally someone with a different surname—and his girlfriend Rina when they hear the rumble of motorcycle engines. Jimin whips his head toward the lot, but he doesn’t see any bikes.

“Where are th—oh!” He jerks slightly when a very familiar bike flies off of the roof of a car carrier truck that had been parked inconspicuously beside the lot. Yoongi hits the ground and runs a loop around the lot once before a second bike shoots over the crowd, causing a few girls and children to scream in surprise.

Jimin gets a kick out of watching the two men looping and spinning and jumping around the fenced off asphalt. There are several hands-free tricks, and plenty of wheelies, coordinated jumps on the ramps, and weaving through the obstacles. When the show finishes, the applause and whistling lasts for several minutes as Yoongi and Jungkook remove their helmets and bow a few times.

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“So how about it?”

“How about what?”

The motor show is over, and the sun is hanging low over the mountains; they only have a couple more hours of daylight. Their group of nine has retired to the parking lot of the motel Yoongi, Jimin, and as it turns out, also Namjoon and May are staying at. It looks almost like a little motor show of their own; with Jimin’s Bugatti, Namjoon’s BMW, Taehyung’s Aston Martin, and then Jin’s midnight purple Ferrari and Hoseok’s bright green Mercedes-Benz, they’ve got quite the collection. Yoongi has his arms folded as he stares Jimin down.

“Are you going to join the rally, or not?”

Jimin takes his time answering, because he likes the way Yoongi is looking at him. “Sure. I guess it could be fun. But you do realize none of you have a chance against a Bugatti, right?”

“It’s not the car that wins the race,” the other man says. “It’s the driver. You could have the fastest, best equipped car in the goddamn universe, but if you’re a shit driver, it doesn’t make a difference.”

It takes a good thirty minutes to get to the location of the rally, which is slightly outside of the city. They’re not driving very far, but the road is nice and has several curves, but is visible to the start/finish line where their spectators are. Spread by careful word-of-mouth, there’s already a pretty good crowd gathered when they pull up. They have some people set up fake detour signs to block off the road and avoid any interference.

Yoongi and Jungkook decide to have a friendly race on their bikes while they’re waiting for more people to show up, and Jimin watches and cheers with everyone else as they skid around the corners, kicking up dirt all over the place when they both run into a side bank. It’s clear that they’re both playing, not taking it seriously at all when they begin competitively revving their engines as if their bikes are throwing insults back and forth. In the last twenty meters, though, they both lean low on their bikes and stop playing. Jungkook wins by half a meter. Yoongi doesn’t seem to care much, smacking the younger biker many times on the back in congratulations until Jungkook begs mercy amongst laughter.

“Drivers! To your cars!” Namjoon calls out. Yoongi releases Jungkook from his stranglehold and catches the keys Namjoon tosses to him. “Seriously? Brush yourself off before you get in my car, hyung,”

Jimin watches as Yoongi looks down at his clothes and notices the dirt splattered all over. “Whoops.” He gives a few half-hearted swipes to get the worst of it off, and then gets into the car. There are five cars, and Jimin has been put in the back, with Jin. They get to start the race a few seconds after everyone else; that’s their handicap for driving the fastest cars.

Rina is the flagger, standing between Taehyung and Hoseok’s cars. She leans in to give her boyfriend a deep kiss for good luck, causing a chorus of wolf whistles and a few hecklers to call them out. (“Get your tongue out of his mouth and start the race!”)

She raises the flag high over her head. Everyone is silent. The second the flag goes down, though, there’s a cloud of dust as the three front cars shoot off.

Rina immediately raises the flag again, Jimin mentally counts to five, and already has his foot pushing down on the gas when the flag goes down.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 2: 'Fast'

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It doesn’t take long to catch up to the other drivers, although the trick is getting past them to pull ahead. One of the first things Jimin realizes is that Taehyung is a wild, unpredictable driver. He doesn’t seem to care if his beautiful, expensive car gets scratched up, and it looks like all of the other drivers know this, because they are doing their best to avoid him as they race along the route. That’s what you get for street racing with luxury cars, Jimin thinks. Luckily, if his Bugatti gets a little banged up, it’s not a big problem; he can afford the repairs. It would be more of an inconvenience than anything else, since he’s got to be in Seoul by Monday.

Jimin is directly behind Yoongi, following closer than is probably smart, but he likes the idea of teasing the man a little before running him into the dust. Currently Hoseok is in the lead, with Taehyung behind him, but then they go around a corner and Taehyung overestimates his control. He spins out, just barely missing Yoongi, and loses significant ground when all three remaining cars shoot by him. That’s when Jimin sees the Ferrari coming up fast on his rear. Jimin doesn’t move over to block him in time, and the Ferrari roars by, tailing Hoseok.

“Shit.” It’s time to stop playing with Yoongi. Jimin doesn’t have to try hard to pull ahead of the Z4, even if it’s not necessarily a slow car. Jimin’s driving a Bugatti, after all.

Jin is in the lead by this point, and Jimin pulls up beside the Mercedes. He and Hoseok glance at each other quickly. He can tell the other man is not going to give up easily. Meanwhile, Yoongi is on his ass now, revving his engine threateningly. The road narrows, and Hoseok’s not giving him space to pull ahead, specifically moving just to block him. But Jimin doesn’t care if he gets a little scratched, so he begins edging the Mercedes, bumping it just a little, coaxing it toward the side.

As Jimin predicts, Hoseok is either afraid of damaging his own car, or he doesn’t want to indirectly damage the Bugatti, because a second later Jimin runs him off the road.

He and Yoongi are neck and neck now, but it’s Jin who Jimin’s after. The finish line is coming up. He pulls away from Yoongi. They drift around a curve, almost as if in slow motion, and then there’s one last stretch of straight road. Jimin pulls up alongside the Ferrari, which is nearly disappearing in the darkening evening. He and Jin fight for the lead, pulling ahead of each other slightly, only to be overtaken a moment later. It all happens in a matter of seconds, but seems to last forever.

Jimin floors it, and they shoot past the finish line. He doesn’t immediately know who came in first, because they were still neck and neck to the very end. Yoongi rumbles past the finish half a second later, followed by Hoseok and then Taehyung.

As they all get out of their vehicles, Jimin can see that Jin is pissed off; it turns out they’ve tied in first. Jimin isn’t bothered one bit, but it seems like the other man hates his spotlight being stolen by some rich punk who showed up out of nowhere.

“You crazy fucker!” Jimin turns in surprise when it’s not Jin’s voice, but Hoseok’s he hears off to his left, and he turns just in time to avoid a punch to the face.

“Whoa! Hold up!” he puts his hands up after ducking, and he tries to catch at Hoseok’s wrists.

“You fucking played dirty!” Hoseok accuses him angrily, as Yoongi runs up and grabs him from behind.

“Cut it out, Hoseok-ah!” Yoongi snaps sharply.

“I wasn’t aware there were rules against running people off the road,” Jimin scoffs, not about to take this shit. “What kind of race did you think you were doing? The kiddie course?”

Yoongi shouts as Hoseok fights harder in his hold.

“Get your hands off me, hyung! I have to teach this little bitch a lesson!”

Rina comes up to help Yoongi calm the furious driver.

“Don’t worry, he’ll learn his lesson,” Yoongi says slightly ominously, making eye contact with Jimin. He herds Hoseok over toward the excited crowd.

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They all go for drinks at a greasy barbecue place within walking distance of the motel, where everyone’s moods improve greatly with the introduction of alcohol to their systems. Jimin learns that not only is Taehyung loaded, but he has a collection of expensive cars, and he lives in a large penthouse apartment all by himself within the city. Taehyung is the only one not drinking, and he spends the evening taking photos and videos of their antics.

Yeah, baby!” Yoongi crows, knocking his glass against Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s, grinning like an idiot before tossing back his glass. Jimin finds himself smiling despite himself, though, and tips his glass back to take a long, chilling swallow. Yoongi catches his eye and licks his lips. Jimin can’t tell if it’s to purposely tease him, or if he’s just licking beer foam from his lips.

“Park Jimin!” It’s Jin who is shouting across the room at him, now. “Park Jimin! Get over here!”

“Kim Seokjin. What do you want?” He sighs as he steps over to their small table, standing with his beer in hand. Yoongi hands him a shot of soju, which he takes and knocks back, turning to the side. He still has his manners, after all.

“I want a rematch. Just you and me. Tomorrow.”

“A rematch?” Jimin takes a second shot from Yoongi, grimacing at the burn down his throat. He leans over to steal a spicy fry from their table’s basket, and surreptitiously presses his hip against Yoongi’s arm for a moment.

“Yes. You and me, none of these slow-ass cars getting in the way. You in?”

Jimin pouts his lips around the rim of his glass, and takes a slow drink.

“I suppose I could humor you.”

Yoongi and Namjoon crack up, and Jimin feels a warm hand on the back of his thigh, carefully sliding up just a few centimeters before disappearing. It’s at an angle that no one else notices, and Jimin lets a smirk curl his lips just a little.

As the night wears on, the loud partiers gradually mellow down with the increase of alcohol. Namjoon and May are curled up together in the corner of a more private booth seat, talking quietly and stealing kisses like a disgusting lovesick couple. Taehyung, Jin and Yoongi are discussing something that looks serious, but Jimin guesses that it’s probably something stupid like whether pineapple is acceptable on pizza or not. (Jimin personally likes it.) Hoseok and Rina are up and dancing, having a great time thanks to not drinking nearly as much as everyone else. The man had eventually apologized for trying to punch him. Jimin doesn’t even have any grievance with Hoseok anymore; after all, he’d sort of deserved the anger of his fellow racer. Jimin can’t help that he becomes like that, though; only focusing on the finish line. Once that flag goes down, he has to be first, even if it means running the other drivers off the road. No hard feelings.

Finally feeling the push of alcohol in his bladder, Jimin excuses himself to use the restroom. He doesn’t think anyone has even noticed his exit apart from Jungkook, who he’s been talking with. They’ve discovered they only live about twenty minutes from each other in Busan, although Jungkook goes to school at KNU in Daegu, so he’s only in Busan during the summer and winter holidays.

Jimin walks out of the restroom after taking care of his business, and nearly crashes into Yoongi. For a moment he thinks the other man is on his way to the bathroom, but then he realizes that, no, he’s been waiting outside the tiny two-stall lavatory for Jimin.

Yoongi smirks and backs Jimin up against the wall. The alcohol on his breath is strong, but Jimin’s sure that his can’t be much better. The way Yoongi has essentially caged him in without even touching him—his hands are in his damn pockets, for crying out loud—starts up a lovely thrum in his body that craves for more. He doesn’t want to give in so easily, though, so he just raises his eyebrows at the older man and stays silent.

“Wanna have some fun, angel?”

Jimin snorts. He’s been anything but an angel today. Just because he looks pretty…. “What makes you think you can just assume I’m interested in a silly little biker like you?”

“You haven’t been able to take your eyes off this ‘silly little biker’ all evening,” Yoongi says, voice low, almost hoarse. He pushes Jimin harder against the wall, crowding into his personal space. “I think I can say with pretty good conviction that you’re interested.” Yoongi’s lips are on his a second later.

Despite his words, Jimin readily opens his mouth when he feels Yoongi’s tongue press between his lips, and he lets himself slump a little so he has to tilt his neck up, forcing Yoongi to hold onto him tighter to support his weight. Jimin can feel the strength in his arms, and isn’t surprised; motorcyclists need the strength to deal with their vehicles, especially if they do tricks like Yoongi seems to enjoy doing. His hands are firmly around Jimin’s small waist, slipping just under the hem of his shirt. Jimin suddenly pictures Yoongi taking him right then and there, where anyone could interrupt them, and he feels a thrill shoot through him. He opens his mouth wider, letting out a little moan, encouraging the biker to explore more.

In the end, though, they don’t do much more than kiss and feel each other up. They are grinding against each other when Taehyung walks up and scoffs at them on his way to the bathroom.

“Disgusting,” the rich man-boy rolls his eyes as they break apart, Jimin feeling significantly more lightheaded than Yoongi appears. The biker snorts and wipes his mouth on the back of his sleeve. He gives Jimin’s ass a nice squeeze, his fingers lingering a little too close between the lower region of his cheeks, and then strolls back over to the tables to rejoin everyone.

“I’d be careful if I were you,” Taehyung says, eyeing the way Jimin straightens his clothing and tries to get his breath back. He’s quite hard at the moment, but he’ll have to ignore it for now. He knows he probably is flushed and has swollen lips; he’s always been more visibly affected by these kinds of activities.

“And why’s that?” he retorts. He admits to feeling a little resentful of the other man’s interruption.

“I’ve known Yoongi-hyung for a while now. He doesn’t stick around for long. Cares more for his wheels than for his lovers.”

“Who’s to say I’m looking for more than just a bit of fun, myself?” Jimin shrugs, honestly not bothered at all by the warning. He’s certainly not looking for a relationship.

“I’m just saying; don’t get attached. I’ve seen a fair share of tears over the years.”

“I’m not planning on getting attached,” he rolls his eyes. “I’m literally leaving town in less than two days.”

“A lot can happen in that time.”

Jimin watches as Taehyung disappears into the restroom, and returns to the group. He sits back down at his previous seat next to Jungkook. They all begin to head out soon after that, the drunker ones of the group leaning on the soberer ones for support. Jimin is fine, though a little tired. It’s been a long day. He says a quick goodnight to the stumbling trio of Namjoon, May, and Yoongi, and is the first to unlock his room.

Jimin tugs off his shirt and tosses it onto the sofa to deal with later. He sighs as he runs a hand through his messed up hair, fingers catching on a few of the black strands. He rubs a hand over his hard stomach; he’s eaten too much today, and feels overly full. Of course, that could just be the beer.

He goes into the bathroom, where he stands in front of the mirror and frowns at his reflection. Sometimes having his face can be a hassle. He gets attention, he gets flirting and teasing, but far more often than not this is all he gets.

Jimin’s horny, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to be putting out. He thinks about paying the other man a visit, but he doesn’t know which room he’s in, and Jimin hasn’t bothered getting any of the phone numbers of the guys from today. He really doesn’t see the point in putting a bunch of numbers into his phone that he’ll never use. He’s beyond the, ‘Hey, we just met, let’s exchange numbers!’ of his university years. He’s long since deleted all of those useless contacts and changed his own number.

Jimin unbuckles his belt and slides it slowly from the loops, curling it up and setting it down on the bathroom counter. He goes over and switches on the shower, pulling the glass door closed as he returns to the sink. He looks into his reflection again, and imagines the way Yoongi’s eyes had gone dark earlier in the back hallway, the way his voice had been rough and dangerous. Jimin clutches the edge of the counter, holding eye contact with himself in the mirror as the surface begins to fog up from the shower. He can feel himself hardening in his pants.

He waits a few minutes before finally shucking off his jeans and boxer briefs, freeing his cock. The bathroom is full of steam; he’d cranked the hot water faucet way up.

Jimin gets like this sometimes. He doesn’t know why, and he’s never told anyone. Why would he? It’s almost like a meditation exercise at this point. He riles himself up, then lets everything out.

He pulls out his bottle of lube from his toiletries and coats his fingers. Imagining that Yoongi is standing behind him and pushing him up against the sink, he slips his fingers first along his flushed cock before pushing them farther down below. His mouth is open, tongue peeking out through his full, pink lips; one of his past lovers once told him that he had an “x-rated mouth.” He had laughed at the time, pouting and teasingly taking his lover’s thumb into his mouth to suck lecherously. He’d gotten fucked good and hard that night, and the next day he was alone again.

He’s not laughing now, as he thrusts his fingers in as far as they can go, pumping his cock with his other hand. He’s breathing in the thick steam, staring at the way water is clinging to his body. He doesn’t know if it’s sweat or condensation, but his skin is rosy and glowing, so he assumes it’s the former.

He regrets not bringing a dildo or vibrator with him. It’s not that his fingers are too short to reach, but they just can’t fill him as he likes. He needs far more stimulation to get off than from just his fingers alone. He ends up simply jerking off until he comes in the sink with a soft whimper. He forces himself to clean up his mess with shaking hands, and then reaches into the shower to turn the temperature back to a normal, less damaging temperature before stepping in to wash off.

 Later, he falls back onto the bed, clad in his sleeping t-shirt and boxers, and he wishes for the second time that he knew which room Yoongi was in. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, he will find out. But now is the time to sleep. He needs to be at full awareness for the rematch with Jin. He knows this will be the real race.

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Jimin starts off his Sunday morning the same way as he had the day before, taking a short run and a round of yoga before rinsing off and getting ready for the day. When he leaves his motel room for the second time to go grab breakfast, Yoongi is out in the parking lot, wiping off his bike.

“Morning,” he greets, walking over so he doesn’t have to call across the lot.

“Morning,” Yoongi looks up and smiles at him. He looks sleepy, no sign of the daredevil of the days before.

“How’s the hangover?” Jimin teases, hands in his pockets. It’s a little warm today, but the breeze is cool, and he’s rolled his sleeves up to his elbows to have some kind of balance.

“No hangover, thank god.” Yoongi straightens up and turns away to shake out the cloth he’d been using. “I’m of tougher stuff than that; I drink too often to get a hangover from a few drinks.”

“A few?” Jimin recalls the way Yoongi and Namjoon had to hang onto each other last night on their way back to their rooms after Jimin had left them.

Yoongi gives him an unamused look, but doesn’t say anything. He realizes that Yoongi has finished cleaning his bike, and is clearly waiting for something.

“Look, I was about to get coffee and maybe something to eat,” Jimin starts, tilting his head to indicate the direction of all of the shops. “You’re welcome to join if you want.”

“Coffee sounds great.”

The walk to the café down the street is silent, but once they get their orders and sit down, Yoongi seems to wake up and get more talkative. Their conversation isn’t necessarily that interesting; just the usual topics, like what their jobs are, how’d they get into racing…things like that. Jimin doesn’t particularly want to get to know Yoongi too closely, but the high-strung feeling he gets around Yoongi doesn’t let up even when the other man is in lazy mode, sipping at an Americano and picking at a scone—he apparently prefers a Korean breakfast to pastries, but the café only offers pastries with their coffee.

The more coffee that enters his system, the more Yoongi seems to return to his original cool self, and by the time they finish up, he’s got an arm draped over Jimin’s shoulders as they walk back to the motel.

“How much time ’ve you got before you have to go kick Jin-hyung’s entitled ass?” he asks when they reach the motel parking lot.

Jimin checks his phone for the time. “Eleven, didn’t he say? So just over half an hour before I have to head over to meet him and the others.”

“Half an hour, huh.” Yoongi seems to be fake-pondering something. “You got anything to do in that time?”

“Not particularly.”

“You should come chill in my room. Or yours, whichever.”

Jimin thinks he knows what Yoongi is implying, but they’re in public, walking past a family with complaining kids.

“Sure, why not,” he finds himself agreeing. “Yours?”

The tension is palpable when Yoongi shuts the door behind them. His room looks identical to Jimin’s, although the bed is messy, and there is only a small travel bag on the floor by the TV. Hands clasp onto his hips from behind, and he lets himself be drawn back against Yoongi’s chest.

“How do you want to do this?” lips whisper against his ear, sending a shiver down his back. He guides one of the hands underneath his shirt to run over his stomach.

“I don’t…think it’s a good idea to get too…distracted right before I have to race,” Jimin points out despite how much he wants it.

“Noted. Well, no worries; we can still enjoy ourselves just fine.”

He leads Jimin over to the bed and pushes him down onto it. Jimin opens his mouth before Yoongi even connects their lips. He pulls Yoongi with him, wrapping his legs around him as he invites the biker to explore the depths of his mouth.

“You needy little thing,” Yoongi murmurs between wet kisses. His hands are underneath Jimin’s shirt, squeezing his sides and pressing into his skin. They skirt around the top edge of Jimin’s jeans. “You think you can handle if I get you off, or is that going to be too…’distracting’?”

“No, I…oh, yes.” Jimin has to force himself to concentrate on the question, because Yoongi’s hands are like magic against his skin.

“Was that a yes, or a no?” Yoongi hums against his throat, licking and sucking lightly.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Jimin says, not realizing that he’s grinding up against the other man.

“Look at it this way,” Yoongi points out in his low voice, “You’re already starting to get turned on from this, we both know it. And I can say with absolute certainty that it’s pretty distracting trying to drive with a boner. Or, I can get you off right now, and then you’ll be nice and relaxed and ready to give Kim Seokjin a dose of his own medicine.”

Jimin thinks Yoongi is very persuasive, but he resists. “I think I can man—manage it.” He has to pull away for a moment, though. “Maybe we shouldn’t be on the bed.”

Yoongi laughs at that. “Sofa? I honestly don’t see how it’ll make a difference. Just sit up, then.” He tugs Jimin up and onto his lap, reconnecting their mouths.

God. I want to fuck you so bad,” Yoongi groans after a while. “Why does Jin-hyung have to get in the way?”

“Do you want me to get you off?” Jimin offers, but then he startles when his phone goes off in his pocket. He’d set an alarm earlier, before even leaving his room. “Dammit. Already?”

He untangles himself from Yoongi and straightens his clothes and hair. They stare at one another for a moment, before Jimin leans forward. “Just one more,” he grins, licking into Yoongi’s mouth and sucking hard at his lips. Then they reluctantly break apart, and head out to their respective vehicles.

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Everyone is standing around the cars in the back parking lot of the diner where the group plans to eat lunch after the race. Since they’re all just waiting around for Jin now, Yoongi hangs around Jimin. He drapes his arm over his shoulders, almost possessively. Jimin resists leaning into it, and instead glances at him with a flirty, knowing expression. He tilts his head a little and moves closer to whisper into Yoongi’s ear.

“Can’t keep your hands off me, can you?” He flicks his tongue out, just fast enough that no one notices, but Yoongi surely feels the wet appendage touch his earlobe. “We should go somewhere more private afterward, if you know what I mean.”

The arm drops to his back, fingers pressing into his spine. Jimin’s heartrate begins to pick up.

They’re interrupted when Jin calls out to Jimin.

“All right, time to stop eye-fucking Yoongi,” he drawls. “Park Jimin. I know I can beat your ass. So let’s do it.”

Jimin pulls away from Yoongi, hardening his stance. “You really think you can beat me? I’ll run you into the dust, Kim Seokjin.”

Jin is already on his way to his Ferrari, twirling his keys mockingly. “I doubt you can keep up, kid. You’ll just get lost.” He gets into his car and then shouts over to Jimin before slamming the door shut, “Meet you at the mountain pass, kid. If you can find me. If I have to wait too long for you, you forfeit.”

The midnight purple Ferrari revs its engine a few times before kicking up a bunch of road dust and shooting off down the road.

“Fuck!” Jimin swears as he pulls out his keys and turns to his own car, but before he can get to the other side, there’s a hand on his arm, fingers curling around his elbow in a tight grip.

“Lend me the car.”

“What?” Jimin’s jaw drops open when Yoongi snatches the keys right out of his hand. The older man has already opened the door and made himself at home behind the wheel before Jimin can even react.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” He yanks open the passenger-side door since it’s closest, and leans in, scowling.

“What the fuck—you can’t just steal my car like this!”

Yoongi nearly growls in annoyance. “Just…goddamn it—get in. We’re going to lose him.”

Jimin is still standing, halfway in, halfway out of the car. “What’re you—”

Get in the car.”

Yoongi seizes his wrist and wrenches him through the door, sending him tumbling into the passenger-side seat and nearly into his own lap as Jimin falls over the center console. He scrambles to get into the seat as Yoongi presses the ignition and the engine roars to life behind their heads.

“Close the fucking door.”

Jimin does as he says, and he barely has time to grab for the seatbelt before Yoongi slams the clutch down, shifts, and floors it.

“If you crash my girl, I’m going to fucking murder you, Min Yoongi. After I sue you.”

“I’m not going to crash her, chill. I know how to drive just—fine.” He pulls a tight corner, stomping down on the clutch and shifting, and Jimin can feel his body slide in the seat as they drift around the corner. Usually when he’s in a drifting car, he’s in control of the vehicle, so it feels bizarre being a passenger during a drift.

“Holy fuck, this baby handles well,” Yoongi breathes, clearly enjoying himself.

Jimin doesn’t know this city, but Yoongi does. It’s clear in the way he shoots through alleys and takes turns Jimin doesn’t even notice, only to come out on the more familiar main streets. The dark purple car is back in sight again, only a few cars ahead now. Jimin still thinks he’s the better driver between himself and Yoongi, but without knowing the streets of Daegu, Jimin is positive he wouldn’t have a chance against Jin.

A moment later, they are directly behind the Ferrari. They race along the streets, but Jin doesn't give them the room to pull ahead. Jimin can see the mountains coming into view; they must be getting close to the mountain pass, but he’s not sure. He doesn’t want to admit that he’d probably have been even farther behind if he had to rely on his GPS to get him to the pass.

“The fuck?” Jin snaps when they get out of the car after pulling up next to him at the meet-up. “Yoongi, you can’t race for him. That defeats the goddamn purpose. I’m not racing you.”

“No worries, hyung. I’m just here to document your spectacular loss.” The biker pulls out his phone and waves it mockingly. “How’s a live feed sound? Private, of course. Can’t have some shithead alerting the cops and getting us all arrested.”

Jimin and Jin scoff at the same time.

“I can outrun the cops no problem,” they both retort.

Yoongi only grins at their synchronization.

They quickly discuss the route, Yoongi opens up a video chat with Namjoon, and then they get back into their cars. Jimin buckles up and makes sure the sport key is in. Since they don’t have a flagger, Yoongi and Jin have their windows down; both drivers are revving their engines, eyes on the road, ready to punch down at the biker’s signal.

“Three…two…GO!”

The roar is nearly deafening.

Window UP!” Jimin snaps. He doesn’t want any extra drag. The window slides up as Yoongi clicks the button.

He ignores the running commentary Yoongi is providing in the seat beside him as he holds up his phone to film the race. He is ahead of Jin at the moment, but the Ferrari driver knows this route better than Jimin does, and he pulls ahead at an unexpected corner. Jimin swerves a little, losing several meters, and swears angrily.

“There’s another sharp turn up ahead,” Yoongi says suddenly. “To the right.”

This time Jimin is ready, and he drifts the corner before pulling up neck and neck with the Ferrari.

“Tunnel up ahead. Watch out for traffic,” his self-appointed navigator warns.

Jimin flicks on his headlights and punches the gas when they have a long stretch. He pulls in front of Jin, and not a moment too soon, as an old, white work truck enters the tunnel from the other side. Jin is stuck behind him for the moment.

They burst out of the tunnel, only to enter another one, this one winding in a curve through the mountain. The florescent lights flash by, and Jimin vaguely registers the rumbling of the Ferrari behind. Jin pulls into the opposite lane, and nearly overtakes him. But then Jimin sees headlights ahead.

“Fuck,” Yoongi spits out, twisting in his seat to look at the Ferrari. “Don’t do it, hyung,” he hisses, clear worry in his voice. “Fall back, you fucker!”

The headlights get closer, and the sound of a frantic horn amplifies through the tunnel. Jin is edging Jimin, pulling up ahead by barely a foot.

“Shit!” Jimin takes his foot off the gas at the last minute, letting Jin swerve into his lane ahead of him with a screech of tires. He misses the oncoming car by barely a meter.

“Is he insane?” Jimin growls, gripping the steering wheel tightly. He may want to win, but he’s not about to let someone die because of it.

“There’s a long stretch after this. You can pull ahead then.”

“How much longer?”

“There’s an overpass and then a few more turns, and then one final stretch.”

Jimin’s lost a lot of ground, but he keeps pushing the Bugatti to go faster. He knows she can do it. She can get up to 407 kmph if he had a long enough stretch, but this route doesn’t give him nearly the space to get up to those digits.

The overpass turns out to be the long stretch Yoongi had been talking about, and Jimin has to wait for a car to go past before pulling into the opposing lane. He’s not an idiot like Jin. No playing around. He takes advantage of the super charge and surges ahead, the momentum sucking both men back in their seats.

“Holy fuck,” Yoongi laughs. “You’ve got some power.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Jimin clenches the wheel. He can see an approaching car way up ahead, and if he can’t cut the distance between them in time, he won’t have another chance until the last stretch.

The heat from the sun is causing glittering waves to hover above the road as Jimin splits his attention between the Ferrari and the car up ahead. He purses his lips, glancing over at Jin; after his stunt back in the tunnel, he doesn’t trust the man to let him avoid a crash.

He sees his chance, and roars back into the right lane five seconds before the opposing car speeds past.

“Turn in twenty meters,” Yoongi says. Jimin can see the following turn, and is able to drift both turns, preventing Jin—who is drifting alongside them—from passing.

They clear the second turn.

“Here we go,” Yoongi croons, holding up the phone to capture the final moments of the race.

Jimin can see the tall landmark ahead, and realizes that there’s a familiar green car parked right beside it.

“I see Hoseok,” Yoongi relays through the feed.

 Hoseok must’ve taken the main route to beat them.

There are no more cars on the road, and Jin pulls into the opposing lane again.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Yoongi chants, holding tight to the phone, camera aimed at the space between the two cars.

Jimin punches the gas, pushing the Bugatti to her limits, and they shoot past Hoseok’s Mercedes, a full ten meters ahead of the Ferrari.

YEAH, BABY!” Yoongi whoops, screaming in Jimin’s ear. He turns and holds up both middle fingers at Jin through the window as both cars slow to a stop on the shoulder under the cover of some trees. Hoseok drives over and pulls in beside them.

They tumble out of the car, Yoongi having the time of his life rubbing the win in Jin’s face. The other man gets out of his car, face red in either anger or embarrassment, Jimin can’t tell. Hoseok is laughing and patting Jin on the shoulder, saying something about how maybe it’s time Jin gets a better car. Jimin holds out his hand and gets a very firm shake from his opponent. He wonders if Jin’s trying to break his fingers.

“I’m not sure what you expected from the fastest car in the world,” Jimin shrugs nonchalantly.

Yoongi grabs his shoulders and grins widely.

Yeah, baby!” he exclaims again, and Jimin laughs, letting Yoongi shake him. He startles when the biker seizes his face between both hands and kisses him hard, right in front of the other two.

“Whoa,” Hoseok blurts out around a surprised laugh.

There’s a hot tongue down his throat, rough hands on his body, and suddenly Jimin feels the side of his car against the back of his thighs.

Hoseok and Jin must realize what’s about to happen. “Oh, boy. That’s our cue to leave. I really have no interest in seeing any dicks other than my own,” Hoseok says loudly.

“Well…I certainly don’t want to see his,” Jin chimes in, still sounding sore. There’s the slam of a car door, and the Ferrari’s engine starts up.

Hoseok calls out to them before he, too, leaves. “Have fun, kids! Remember; safety first, safety second, sexy times third!”

Yoongi fumbles for the door handle of the passenger’s seat, and shoves Jimin inside the car. Then he straightens up, shuts the door, and walks around to the other side. Once again hijacking the Bugatti.

However, Yoongi doesn’t touch the keys when he gets into the driver’s side. Instead, in one swift movement, he tilts Jimin’s seat as much as it will go—not very far considering there’s no back seat—and shoves him back as he drags his shirt up over his torso. There’s a moment of barely-there hesitation as the article of clothing is held above Jimin’s head, still attached to his arms in a scrunched up bundle around his elbows, before Yoongi smirks and yanks it off completely. Then he twists the shirt back around Jimin’s elbows, and ties the sleeves up in a knot. Yoongi shoves the tangle behind the seat’s headrest.

“—the fuck?” Jimin gasps, stomach heaving with his breaths. He can’t free his arms no matter how hard he pulls or twists in his seat. He’s so distracted that he chokes when he feels a hot, wet mouth cover his nipple and begin sucking hard.

“Holy—fuck—I—fucking hell!”

Yoongi has his hand around the bulge in Jimin’s jeans, and he’s squeezing and massaging it, pushing up and dragging down his palm. It both hurts and feels so fucking good that Jimin worries he’ll come right there in his pants. He hates coming in his pants. Luckily, a moment later both his jeans and underwear are around his ankles, and he struggles to kick at least one foot free so he can spread his legs more. It proves extremely difficult while still wearing his shoes, but it just goes to show that desperation can do incredible things, because he manages to kick off one shoe so that he can pull his foot through the scrunched up pant leg.

He doesn’t even care that Yoongi is still completely dressed, because in the next second the Daegu racer is mouthing down his hard abdomen and then his cock is enveloped in wet, pressing heat.

Jimin clenches his fists as they hang uselessly in the air behind his head. He is squirming and gasping, half pleading, half demanding. Yoongi wraps his hand around the base, squeezing and twisting, taking his mouth off for just a moment to rub all the way up the length, spreading Jimin’s pre-cum everywhere. Then he takes his hand off and goes back down on him. Jimin bucks up in the seat, fucking himself into Yoongi’s mouth, when suddenly a long, blunt finger pushes its way into him.

His breath stutters, and he whimpers. The finger presses in deeper, probing his insides, and his mouth feels dry. He jolts when a second finger joins in, and simultaneously he feels teeth scrape along his cock.

“Fuck!” he nearly screams, and rocks down against the fingers, trying to push them in farther. “More, oh god, Give me more, Yoongi. I need—haghh,” he chokes on a moan as three fingers thrust into him. He can’t decide which feels better; Yoongi’s tongue massaging his throbbing cock as the head dips closer and closer to the back of the racer’s throat, or the now four fingers jackhammering into him so strongly that he swears he is being lifted clear off the seat with each thrust; he seriously wonders if the entire hand will somehow be shoved into him soon. It both scares and excites him. He’s not sure he can handle full-on fisting.

Abruptly, and all too soon, he feels the tightening in his gut, and he spills into Yoongi’s mouth. He feels the suction as the other man swallows around him, somehow not gagging even though Jimin can feel the back of his throat, can feel the way his uvula is pushed up by the top of his cock.

Yoongi pulls off of him, but continues to slowly pump into him, until Jimin whines and squirms from the oversensitivity.

But then, quite suddenly, Yoongi stops.

Jimin’s ears are ringing, his body is pulsing as if he is a conduit with currents of electricity shooting through him, and there are black spots in his vision. He doesn’t notice what Yoongi is doing; he only vaguely registers the sound of shuffling in the seat beside him, feels the car rock a little, and then Yoongi is hovering over him, seizing his legs to push his thighs up and out, exposing him even more than before.

Jimin blinks and looks up at him, mouth open as he gasps for air. He whimpers a little at the dark look he is getting.

“You ready for the real thing?” Yoongi rasps, and the sound shoots straight to Jimin’s quivering groin.

“Wha—ohh.”

His eyes roll back as Yoongi begins to slide into him. He’s going slowly, and the condom he’d put on while Jimin wasn’t paying attention is lubricated well, but the stretch coupled with Jimin’s post-orgasm body makes him sob out a wretched moan as his hands twitch helplessly in their suspended state.

It’s not long before Yoongi is rocking into him at a dangerous pace, hitting that spot each and every time. Jimin can feel the car rocking, and his ears are filled with his own wails as he is thoroughly fucked into the passenger seat of his own car.

Please, please, please,” Jimin doesn’t know what he’s even begging for. Even the pain of overstimulation has now morphed into something entirely different; it’s like he can’t get enough, like he needs to be completely and utterly wrecked.

Yoongi groans and latches onto his mouth, plunging his tongue deep, sucking and biting, his hands clasped tightly onto Jimin’s hips like a vice. He pulls nearly all of the way out before ramming in again and again. Jimin’s eyes are watering from the intensity, but he doesn’t let Yoongi stop kissing him, choking slightly as he fervently kisses back.

Yoongi’s movements stutter; it almost seems like he’s going to stop, and pull out, but then he resumes fucking into Jimin at such an intense, frantic pace that he has to break free from the kiss as his cries get higher and gaspier. Yoongi buries his face against the side of his head, panting heavily into his ear, and Jimin thinks it’s a sound he could probably get off to all by itself.

Suddenly Yoongi stills, lets out a low, almost pained groan, and then collapses onto him. Jimin convulses slightly and then feels hot splashes as he comes for the second time, between them. Yoongi reaches between them to squeeze and pump out the last drops as Jimin bites his lip and whimpers into his arm.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 3: ‘Soak’

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The car is nearly silent, other than their heavy breathing. Eventually Yoongi pushes up and out of Jimin, and reaches up to free his arms. They fall limply to his sides.

“Have you got tissues or something in here?”

“Sto-stor—righ’ here,” Jimin manages, tilting his head to the left. Yoongi pulls the pack of tissues from the storage compartment and wipes them both off before removing the condom and stuffing it into a wad of tissues to be disposed of later.

Jimin can’t get himself to move, but his nakedness quickly becomes a problem as goosebumps spread across his skin from the cooling air. He fumbles with his pants and struggles back into his shirt, hands shaking. He can still feel his heart pounding in his chest. He’s had a lot of crazy hook ups over the years, but this by far has been the most intense sex he’s ever had. He wonders in what other ways Min Yoongi could wreck him. He probably shouldn’t think about that, because it’s not a good idea to get used to the idea of more than just the one time.

Instead of giving into his desire to pull Yoongi back over and kiss him long and slow, Jimin clears his throat and raises a hand to point at the man sitting in the driver’s seat of his precious Bugatti.

“You’re going to pay for that, Min Yoongi.” His hand is still trembling, and Yoongi notices.

“You sure about that? You might need to be carried into your room, now. Want me to carry you like a princess?”

Jimin wishes he had the strength to punch that smirk off his face.

“Don’t you fucking call me a princess.” He just needs a few minutes, and then he’ll be back to normal. Hopefully.

Yoongi grins, pats him on the crotch (causing Jimin to suck his breath in tightly and make an embarrassing squeaking noise), and then starts the car up again.

“Let’s head back to the diner. Maybe the others are still eating,” he says as they pull back onto the road.

Jimin’s heartrate goes down as they drive, and he feels himself completely relax against the seat, listening to the low rumble of the engine behind his head.

When they reach the diner, all of the cars are still there, so they pull in next to Yoongi’s motorcycle and head inside. Jimin still feels a little jelly-legged when he gets out of the car, but he is fine enough, and by the time they enter the restaurant, he’s sure that no one will be able to tell what he’d been doing.

Other than the people they’re eating with, of course.

Since they’re in a public establishment, the others stick to shit-eating grins and hushed snickering when the two men take seats at the table. Yoongi sits down next to Rina, leaving Jimin to take the seat next to Taehyung. Before he sits, though, he tilts his head toward the back of the restaurant, where he’s sure there must be a bathroom.

“I’ll be right back,” he says.

Once he’s in the small confines of the one-person bathroom, he cleans himself a little more properly and thoroughly washes his hands. He’s going to be eating, after all. He bumps into Yoongi on the way out, causing a bit of déjà vu, and the other man leans close to his ear as he laughs slightly.

“Figured I should at least wash my hands. The others wouldn’t let me touch anything at the table.”

Jimin pulls a face, partly out of mortification, partly out of disgust that Yoongi would consider not bothering to wash his hands after where they’d been, and flicks him on the collar as he passes.

“Oh, you’re back already?” Jin says when Jimin takes the seat next to Taehyung. “We were convinced you two were going to have another round back there.”

Jimin doesn’t grace him with a response to that, and instead reaches for the menu. “What’s good here?”

Jimin knows from past experience that situations are only awkward if you make them so. And although everyone clearly knows he and Yoongi have just had sex, it’s not like it’s Jimin’s first time, and he just acts like he’s not bothered about them talking about their inappropriate activities.

Yoongi comes back a moment later, and then they flag down their server. The young girl—probably only eighteen or nineteen—blushes and smiles sweetly at them as she takes their orders, and Jin blows her a kiss when she glances at him. Namjoon groans, and May smacks Jin on the shoulder since she’s closest.

“Why do you always have to do that, hyung?” Namjoon asks. “It’s embarrassing. You’re not some idol who can get away with those kinds of skeezy things.”

Jin just shrugs. “I can’t help it if everyone knows I’m gorgeous.”

No one at the table is impressed, but it’s clear that this is a regular occurrence.

Jimin is in the middle of chewing his food when Taehyung speaks across the table at Yoongi, “Wow, hyung, I thought you wouldn’t have enough room for a big lunch after your feast just now.”

Jimin accidentally inhales a chunk of meat, and begins choking as he tries to expel it from his trachea. Luckily Taehyung socks him in the diaphragm a few times with the side of his large fist, and he spits into a paper napkin.

“Fucking hell,” he gasps, angry.

“Sorry,” is all he gets in return. Some of the others around the table look more concerned, but he’s had enough.

“You guys are really immature,” he finds himself saying. He’s done with pretending they’re friends. As he starts to look around for their server to get his food wrapped up to go, Taehyung puts a hand on his wrist.

“Come on. I was just joking. Chill out, man.”  

"No thanks. I have no interest in wasting my time with a bunch of teenagers."

He suddenly feels a foot against his leg. Just a tap, on the outer shin, but it's clearly no accident. He frowns across at Yoongi. The other man is looking at him, but it’s impossible to tell what he’s trying to telepathically relay to Jimin. Jimin settles on glaring at him and letting out a silent exhale as he sits back in his seat again, drink straw between his teeth.

This is ridiculous. He has no loyalty to anyone at the table. Why is he even listening to Yoongi?

He’s too busy feeling irritated to notice when Yoongi successfully steers the conversation onto other topics, but even when Jimin begins to pay attention again, he feels the return of impatience; they are talking about things he doesn’t have any part of nor any interest in. He’s a complete outsider. Jimin can’t help that he gets sulky like this sometimes. He’s only lucky that it doesn’t affect his job, because he can separate his emotions from his responsibilities, but when he is in social situations, his stubbornness wins out.

He quietly finishes his meal, contributing to the conversation only when directly addressed. He’s feeling less angry by the end of the meal, but still looks forward to being on his own.

As the group lingers in the parking lot for a few moments, saying goodbye before they all separate into their respective vehicles, Yoongi follows Jimin closely on his way to his motorcycle.

“You still angry about the others?” he asks, once they’re out of earshot. Jimin feels his hand lightly touch the small of his back. They’re on the other side of Jimin’s car, so he knows no one can probably see the touch. He doesn’t shrug it off, because honestly he’d been wanting to be touched by Yoongi for most of their meal.

“I’m fine,” he shrugs. Yoongi raises an eyebrow. His middle finger draws a couple of small circles against Jimin’s spine, over the fabric of his shirt. Jimin closes his eyes for a moment and sighs. When he opens them again, Yoongi is a little closer, but not so much that it’s inappropriate.

“If it bothers you that much, I can tell them to lay off the sexual jokes. I didn’t think it’d be such a problem, what with…you know,” he insinuates.

Jimin shrugs again, shifting away from him to unlock his car. “Like I said, it’s fine. Doesn’t really matter, anyway. I’m gone tomorrow.”

“Ah, right.” Yoongi nods, like he’s forgotten. Not that they’ve talked about it.

By this point, they are the only ones left in the back parking lot. Therefore, Jimin isn’t that surprised when Yoongi decides to step closer to him as he stands between his open door and the driver’s seat, about to get in.

“Well anyway,” Yoongi says, face very close to his, “I’ll still give them a bit of hell. Just because.” His thigh is between Jimin’s, pressing up a little. “Besides. My ‘feast’ was quite delicious.”

Jimin shivers. Oh, how he wants Yoongi’s hands on him, but this is not the place, despite there being no one around to see.

“Shut up,” he says, instead, and puts his palm on Yoongi’s stomach to push him away. Jimin may crave a lot of things, but he is also a pro at resisting temptations. It’s how he’s kept such a fit body, it’s how he’s managed to make serious bank at such a young age, and it’s why he hasn’t fallen down into the spiraling pits of greed. He knows when to say no.

 Yoongi backs off, and then unlocks his seat compartment to pull out his helmet. He shoves it onto his head, and laughs at Jimin as he throws his leg over his motorcycle.

"See you later, then," he calls before he slides down the shield on his helmet, and with an obnoxious roar, he skids in a half-circle and streaks out of the parking lot.

Jimin decides to take a short detour back to the motel, exploring more of the streets (and maybe enjoying the attention his Bugatti attracts). Daegu is all right, but he misses the sea. His beach-toasted golden skin is one of the most obvious indicators that he's a Busan boy through and through. He knows he'll start losing the glow soon enough after returning to Seoul, and it makes him a little sad because the sea is such a strong part of him.

He stops by a sauna before heading back to the motel. It’s a nice-looking one; not too big, but high enough quality that it has all of the accommodations Jimin is looking for. He’s folding up his clothes to push into a locker when there is a surprised voice behind him.

“Jimin-hyung?”

He whirls around, holding onto the towel at his waist. Jungkook is standing barely a meter away from him, in a similar state of undress. Jimin clears his throat. He feels just a little bit tiny next to the barely legal adult. Jungkook is ripped, and tall. It’s a good thing that Jimin doesn’t like getting involved in younger partners, although he could see himself making an exception for Jungkook. He also has a feeling that Jungkook is straight, but he doesn’t like to assume.

“Jungkook,” Jimin greets. He glances over the other man’s shoulder, then. “Is it just you here, or are the others…?”

“Nah, it’s just me. My body’s a little sore from the race last night. I think I overdid it just a bit,” he laughs. “But it was worth it to beat Yoongi-hyung’s ass.” He reveals a toothy grin, and Jimin suddenly has a feeling that Jungkook is a lot more of a troublemaker than he’s seemed so far.

“The disrespect,” he teases. Then he gestures to the entrance to the sauna. “So, are you going in, or coming out?”

“In. You don’t mind if I join you? I don’t want to make things weird,” the younger man admits a little awkwardly. After all, they’re minutes from being naked with each other, and Jungkook knows what Jimin’s been up to only hours ago with his hyung.

“I don’t mind one bit. Come on.”

They separate to go wash off, and then rejoin to enter the hot bath. Jungkook lets out a very guttural groan as he sinks into the mineral-filled water, and Jimin laughs at him. They float around for a bit, chatting about random things; driving, Busan, growing up.

Jimin is struck by the realization that Jungkook is still very, very young; very much still a kid. He gets a little flustered when he hesitantly asks Jimin about Yoongi.

(“Did you two actually…you know?”

“Yes, we did; didn’t you hear all of the teasing earlier? Why?”

“Yeah, but Taehyung and Jin-hyung make things up all the time.”)

They move to the Dead Sea salt bath; this is the one Jimin loves, because it makes his skin feel so soft and smooth. He scoops the water over his arms and shoulders, rubbing it in and soaking up as much as he can until it’s time to get out.

As they sit in the heat room after the baths, they talk about Jungkook some more. He has big dreams, and Jimin doesn’t let his pessimistic self ruin that for the younger man. He knows he doesn’t have it all that bad, but he knows that life is a lot more than just doing what you like. Jimin doesn’t hate his job; but he certainly doesn’t love it. He just does it so he can continue the kind of lifestyle he enjoys. Jungkook, meanwhile, can’t decide between movie directing, singing, modeling (he already does a little locally, which doesn’t surprise Jimin one bit), or professional gaming. His motorcycle is just a hobby. He likes the rush he gets on his bike, and it’s the one dangerous part of his life that he allows; Jungkook is somewhat of a well-behaved person, when he isn’t disrespecting his closest hyungs.

It’s a calming, relaxing afternoon, and Jimin feels sleepy and slow as he drives back to the motel after eating a simple dinner with Jungkook at the sauna. Jungkook has to get back to his dorm to finish up his homework. It’s finals time, nearly summer holidays, and the biker makes a face as he admits that he hasn’t done a single bit of studying all weekend. (Jimin believes it.)

When Jimin gets back to the motel that evening, Yoongi’s motorcycle isn't in the parking lot. He wonders if Yoongi has checked out; if their interaction at lunch was, in fact, the last one without either of them realizing it. He doesn't want to admit that he's a little disappointed.

Since he has to leave for Seoul in the morning, Jimin spends the rest of the night organizing his belongings and taking advantage of the laundry facilities in the motel. His muscles are soft, and he wants nothing more than to just curl up in bed, but he is good at resisting temptation.

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Jimin looks up at the knock on his door. It’s a little after one in the morning. He has an inkling to who it could be, but he still peers through the peephole before unlocking and swinging the door open to reveal Yoongi. Standing out on the landing in sweats, a tank top, and an open, loose hoodie, the biker scratches behind his neck and purses his lips. Jimin catches him flexing his toes a couple times in his lower peripheral, those sandals back on his feet instead of his usual biking boots.

“Hey.”

Jimin moves aside, shutting and locking the door behind him as Yoongi walks into the room.

“Your room looks exactly like mine,” the man says aloud, looking around.

Jimin snorts. “Of course it does. Did you come here to comment on my cheap-ass motel room, or did you come here for something else?” He knows his voice doesn’t sound impressed.

Yoongi turns back to him. “Something else.”

“And that would be…?” Jimin raises his eyebrows when there is no further explanation given. Yoongi is acting weird. He eyes Jimin’s attire, running over his over-large t-shirt, his black boxers that are just barely visible below the shirt hem on the side that isn’t slipping off of his shoulder; down his tan legs, and ending at his bare feet, which he stares at for a while before bringing his gaze back up to Jimin’s face.

“No offense, but you’re starting to weird me out,” Jimin forces a laugh. “Please don’t tell me you’re going to pull a knife or a gun on me. Or are you on drugs right now?” It’s not like he knows the older man well enough to know whether this is a reasonable assumption or a crazy one.

He sees the corner of Yoongi’s lips curl up in the start of a smile, but it doesn’t reach the rest of his face.

“Not on drugs,” he says. “And I don’t have a knife.”

Jimin frowns, and tenses slightly. “A…gun, then?” What has he gotten himself into?

“I wanted to apologize for earlier.”

Okay, Jimin hadn’t expected that.

“I mean, I know we talked a bit, but I didn’t exactly apologize. The guys were a bit much at lunch. I wanted to find you earlier, but you were out most of the afternoon, and I went out again before you got back.”

“Ah.” Jimin bites his lip slightly. He feels awkward. “That’s, uh, don’t worry about it, I already forgot. I really don’t care all that much.” It’s only half true; he certainly hasn’t been sulking over it, but at the same time he really feels no desire to make an effort to spend time with them. Maybe Jungkook is an exception. But he is a Busan boy, and Jimin fully admits to being a little biased when the opportunity arises.

Yoongi is staring hard at him. “Come here.”

“What?” He doesn’t move.

“Come here.”

“Why? What are you going to—?”

“Goddamn it, Jimin—” Yoongi reaches forward and grabs him by the collar, pulling him forward so suddenly that Jimin has to put his hands on Yoongi’s chest to keep from falling, “I just want to kiss you.”

Jimin opens his mouth to say something, maybe to express his surprise, but there is a firm hand at the back of his neck, and suddenly he is relaxing as Yoongi’s mouth covers his own.

“If you want to fuck me, you don’t need to be all weird about it,” he says as he pauses between the deep, intrusive kisses. “Just say so.”

Something flashes in Yoongi’s eyes, but it’s gone before Jimin can figure out what it is. It’s like a shield or a wall has been drawn up between them.

“Right.” He pulls Jimin closer, licking into his mouth, sucking at his lips and tilting his head to get a better angle around their noses. “Fuck, why do you smell so good?” he mumbles against Jimin’s lips.

Jimin snorts. “Sauna. I’m also fucking soft now because those Dead Sea salts are like magic.” He encourages Yoongi to run his hands over his body. He hums appreciatively.

They end up on the bed, Yoongi’s sandals lying scattered on the floor, Jimin crawling over the other man’s body as they continue to make out.

Yoongi pulls away for a moment, leaning back on the pillow.

“I don’t have my wallet on me.”

Jimin snorts. “I’m not asking you to pay for my services, Min Yoongi.”

“No, I—god. That’s where I carry my condoms when I’m out.”

“Ah, right. Well, don’t worry; I’ve got some.” Jimin goes over to his bags and pulls out a couple. “How many do you think we’ll need? Two? Three? Just one?” He grins and waves them a little teasingly in the air, before grabbing his lube. He sets everything on the bedside table and then crawls back over Yoongi.

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Pleasantly sated, they lie together in Jimin’s bed. Yoongi claims he’s too lazy to go back to his own room, and draws Jimin in close, hand splayed across his stomach. His breath tickles the back of Jimin’s neck a little, but not enough to really bother him. And besides; Jimin is feeling sleepy and soft and cuddly after his intense day. He knows it is a bad idea to, first of all, have sex more than once with someone you're not intending on seeing again, but it’s a really bad idea to sleep together afterward. Even so, he settles into the pillow and repositions them so that Yoongi’s other arm is under his armpit in a way that won’t cut off his circulation, and then he drowsily plays with his fingers until he slips off to sleep.

Around five-thirty in the morning, Jimin wakes up to find he’s turned over in his sleep and is now curled up against Yoongi. His head is on the other man’s chest, tucked under his chin. Yoongi has his opposite arm draped loosely over his waist, holding him close. It’s intimate in a way that makes Jimin somewhat uncomfortable, so he pulls away slightly and observes the other man for a while. He eventually realizes that Yoongi is partially aroused, and a sneaky grin makes its way onto Jimin’s face.

He scoots down on the mattress, and crawls into the space between Yoongi’s legs. Then he lowers himself down and gently takes his dick in his mouth. Jimin is careful; he doesn’t want to shock Yoongi awake, but at the same time his intention isn’t to let the man continue sleeping as he pleasures him. Jimin knows the moment Yoongi wakes up; he is bobbing up and down on the length, breathing heavily through his nose, when suddenly a hand finds the back of his head and clenches his hair tightly. There is a low, hoarse groan from up on the pillows.

“Holy shit.”

Yoongi spreads his legs a little more and places his hand more firmly on the back of Jimin’s head. Jimin recognizes what is about to happen, and quickly braces Yoongi’s hips down against the mattress. He isn’t keen on getting his mouth fucked in the morning, knowing he’ll have no recovery time before having to go out into public. Yoongi manages to get one thrust in before Jimin can stop him, though, and he coughs around the dick in his mouth, inadvertently inhaling and immediately feeling the sting. He gags, and pulls off, trying to stop coughing.

“That’s what you get for trying to blow me in my sleep,” Yoongi laughs, fingers carding through his hair soothingly. “Sorry. I’ll try to resist the urge to fuck that luscious mouth of yours. Come on back here, baby.”

Jimin takes him back into his mouth, moaning around it and holding tightly to Yoongi’s thighs. Each time it seems like Yoongi is about to come, he slows down to barely touching him at all as he slides along the length. Every time he does this, Yoongi’s hand fists itself in Jimin’s hair. Jimin whines when the pull is too painful, and Yoongi snaps at him.

“Then let me fucking come, you little tease!”

Jimin hollows out his cheeks and sucks hard, and Yoongi explodes into his mouth. That’s for yesterday, Jimin thinks to himself, feeling pleased as he swallows the bitterness.

Yoongi pulls Jimin up on top of him. He still looks like he’s half asleep, but there’s a sharpness to his gaze that gives away the desire he clearly has at the moment. He leans up slightly as he pulls Jimin down to kiss him. His hand slides down Jimin’s spine, curving around his ass and squeezing slightly. Then he flips them over, and reaches over for the bottle of lube. Jimin can’t help it when he leans up to take a nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue around it and suckling it as if he’d actually get something to come out. Yoongi’s breath stutters, and he settles back down, tugging Jimin back up against the headboard. He holds his jaw in one hand, pressing into his cheeks a little, staring hard at Jimin’s mouth.

“Are you going to fuck me?” Jimin murmurs, letting his tongue dart out to wet his drying lips. He watches as Yoongi coats his fingers with lube.

“No.”

Jimin frowns, eyes shooting back to Yoongi’s face. The biker is smirking a little, the curl of his lips almost unnoticeable, except that Jimin is so close and can see every change of his expression perfectly.

“No?”

A slippery finger circles his rim and then presses in. Jimin feels his frown disappear as all of his attention hones in on the sensation of the finger inside him. True to his words, Yoongi fingers him—slowly—but doesn’t fuck him. Jimin forces himself to keep his eyes open, and Yoongi holds his gaze the entire time as Jimin falls apart, choking on his own cries. Rather than thrust into him, Yoongi just leisurely strokes him from the inside, using his thumb to massage his balls as well. Jimin writhes on the bed, mouth open as he breathes in shallowly. The hand not exploring his insides runs up and down his body, finding all of his sensitive spots.

He knows he is being tortured in revenge.

He and Yoongi are about the same height, but right now Jimin feels so small and overwhelmed. In just a couple hours, he will be driving north, to Seoul, leaving all of this excitement behind just as he has done numerous times before. But at the moment, all he can think about is the way he doesn’t want Yoongi to stop touching him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Yoongi murmurs, and Jimin’s eyes widen. Those are dangerous words. He hopes they don’t mean what they imply.

He bites his lip as he feels himself getting closer and closer to his climax. Yoongi is taking his time with him, pressing slowly but hard, almost as if he’s massaging him. There are three fingers stroking, pressing, and gently scraping at his walls.

Then, the biker presses particularly hard into that certain bundle of nerves, and Jimin goes blind for a moment. When he slowly comes back to awareness, he is covered in his own cum, breathing labored and wet. He’s crying, and choking on air, and pulling Yoongi close as his body continues to tremble with aftershocks. Yoongi scoops up some of the cum between them with his other hand and pushes them into Jimin’s mouth to suck clean. He curls his tongue around the digits, still staring into the other man’s eyes, but then he finally lets his eyelids slip shut as Yoongi dips down to connect their mouths.

They kiss languidly for a very long time, until the sun is streaming in through the crack in the curtains, and Jimin’s phone begins to buzz with text messages from work.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 4: ‘Seoul’

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Getting back into the flow of things after his adventure of a weekend is easier than Jimin had thought it would be. Then again, he’s not given much choice. He gets into Seoul around eleven in the morning, after an exhausting three-hour drive. It’s too early to check into his hotel room, so he goes straight to the office, the head branch of the company he works for. He's almost immediately given a long schedule of meetings and appointments for the week. And that's not even including the following two weeks.

Both Busan and Daegu are by no means small cities, but they have nothing on Seoul. Jimin is forever stuck somewhere between wanting to stay close to the sea of Busan, or completely immerse himself in the heart of Seoul. He loves the busy-ness of the city, and the way he can just be all alone even as he is surrounded by dozens of people rushing here or there.  He loves the bright lights, the sophisticated fashion, and the almost unreal level of beauty on the streets. (He knows a good portion is probably a result of plastic surgery, but he doesn't really care about that.)

Jimin is set up in a gorgeous suite when he finally gets to his hotel. He has a wall of windows looking out over the city, he has a king-sized bed, a large walk-in shower with a wall-to-wall sliding clear glass door separating it from the rest of the bathroom; he could easily fit his Daegu motel room into the suite three times over. He even has a small kitchen, but he doesn't plan on using it. Not when he's getting paid to meet clients for lunches and dinners most of his time in Seoul.

He hangs up his suits and does a quick ironing out of a few rumpled sections. He makes sure his shoes are properly smudge-free before setting them down by the door. 

Jimin goes out to a club a few days after arriving in Seoul, having grown tired of just going back to his over-large hotel suite every evening. He finds the club online, reading a few reviews about the quality of music, drinks and dancing before he decides to take a taxi over. He knows right away that he picked a good club. It has the aura of a high class establishment, without being snooty or too fancy. But it's clean, the music has a terrific bass line thumping through the floor and up through his feet, and the bar has a huge selection to choose from. Jimin has a few shots to loosen up before sipping at a mixed drink and looking around. 

The club is both dark and bright at the same time; lights flash to the beat of the the music, just enough to see where one's going, but not enough to really see people's faces unless they are closer. The DJ has good taste, and Jimin can feel the music begin to affect him. He polishes off his drink, feeling a wonderful buzz in his veins, and moves onto the dance floor.

She is twisting and grinding to the music when Jimin first sees her. She has her undyed black hair up in a very messy bun, and it looks like she’s lost in the music with the way she has her eyes closed, a nearly orgasmic expression on her face. The flashing lights reflect off of her thin-strapped dress; there’s some kind of silver or gold in the material, but it’s pretty impossible to tell the real colors of things in the club. The rest of the material, which is clinging to her slender body with sweat, is a pale color, with the vague pattern of slightly darker flowers. Magnolias, maybe. Almost like sundress-turned-club-wear. Jimin watches as her hands slide up her body, catching on her small breasts briefly before lifting away and rising in a wave with the music. She's beauty personified. He makes his way over to her.

For a moment he just dances in front of her, not making any physical contact. Then she must sense his gaze, because she opens her beautifully shadowed eyes and runs them quickly over his body before smirking. They move toward each other at the same time, Jimin’s hands coming up to curl around either side of her hips as they sync their movements to each other. She slides her hands up his chest before turning and pressing her back against him. She guides his hands over her body, but Jimin doesn’t need to be told what to do.

He pulls her flush against him, rocking their hips and letting himself breathe in the fragrance of her shampoo. It’s florally, and heady, and he resists the urge to latch onto her neck right there. Just because she wants to dance with him doesn’t mean she wants that with him.

They dance like that for a while before she spins and wraps her arms around his neck. Her eyes are bright; her lips are a little puffy like she’s been biting them. Maybe she has, Jimin doesn’t know. She breathes heavily in his face before suddenly dropping with the music. Her hand drags down his torso, her face is directly in front of his crotch, and then as she rises once more, her fingers linger on his groin for a moment before they slide back up to grip the front of his shirt.

She leans forward and presses her lips to his ear.

“Wanna take a break? I want a drink.”

He smiles and nods, letting her bring his hand back down to her waist as they make their way off the dance floor.

Jimin needn’t have worried about her interest; barely ten minutes later she has pushed him into the ladies’ restroom and is on her knees in the last stall with his cock down her throat. It’s a very different kind of ‘drink’ than he’d been expecting when she’d whispered in his ear. Jimin hasn’t had such an eager woman in a while, and it’s refreshing. Part of the reason he seems to gravitate toward men more, even though he enjoys both sexes, is because often it’s just easier for him to let interested guys take him. Less work on his part. In his experience, women take a lot longer to seduce, and he just doesn’t have the patience for that.

He gasps out a warning before he comes, and she pulls away to finish him off with her hand. His legs go a little weak, and she presses him up against the door as she helps tuck him back into his pants.

“You’re so pretty,” she grins. “Prettiest guy I’ve ever been with.”

Jimin laughs. “You’re not supposed to tell guys they’re ‘pretty,’” he says, as sort of a knee-jerk reaction.

She hums, and tilts his chin to kiss him. “I think you like it, though.”

They end up at a nearby love hotel.

It's nothing special; just close, convenient and clean. They don't bother showering, instead falling onto the bed in a tangle of limbs. Jimin is a little thankful that she doesn't appear to be wearing lipstick, because he's sure it would be all over his face if she had been. Her lips are soft but strong against his, and he buries his hands in her hair. He tugs out the clip, letting her long, dark hair flow down over her shoulders as she hovers over him.

"What's your name?" he asks her after he’s been divested of his shirt.

"Sooyeon. You?”

“Jimin.”

That’s all the introduction they need, and they don’t do much talking after that. He helps her out of her dress, kissing the bottom of her ribs as she arches back to pull it over her head before tossing the article of clothing onto the one arm chair in the room. Jimin vaguely wonders how many people have fucked on it, but then his attention is drawn back to Sooyeon. She hadn’t been wearing a bra, and her nipples are hard from the air conditioning. She is sitting on one of his thighs in nothing but her sheer underwear. He hooks his fingers on the sides and begins inching it down.

“Wait,” she says, putting her hands on his. “You first.”

He smiles slightly and lets her help him drag his somewhat tight jeans down off of his legs. She leans down to kiss him, elbows on either side of his head. Then she begins rolling her hips, rubbing herself along his bare thigh. He can feel the drag of her underwear against his skin, and he pushes his leg up a little to increase the pressure. Their kisses are wet, and she’s starting to breathe more heavily. Abruptly she breaks away and slides her underwear off, throwing it onto the chair with her dress. Jimin pulls off his as well, and rolls over to grab a condom packet from the bed stand. Pre-lubed. Nice.

She places her hands on his stomach as she sinks down onto him with a soft sigh. Jimin honestly prefers to be the one bottoming, but he doesn’t have much of a choice when he hooks up with women. He doesn’t hate it, otherwise he wouldn’t bother, but he just enjoys it more to be the one on the receiving end.

Sooyeon rolls her hips, her entire upper body moving in a wavelike motion, similar to how she’d danced at the club. She grips his sides as she lifts herself and then drops back down, forcing a groan out of him. He reaches up to hold onto her hips. Soon their movements become more intense as she rides him, quiet but passionate in her entire demeanor. She is covered in sweat, hair sticking to her face and neck. She stretches down and forces his head down a little to make him press his lips to her chest.

“Come on, baby boy. You know you want it.”

Jimin bites back the chuckle that tries to escape, and opens his mouth wide around one of her nipples, already starting to suck even as he is still pulling his lips together around the small nub. He reaches up to massage her other breast as he licks and suckles her.

Ohh, god, your fucking mouth,” she moans.

He doesn’t know why, but suddenly Jimin thinks of Min Yoongi. He chokes slightly and accidentally bites her a little.

“Mmm, that’s it. Harder.”

She increases her pace, and Jimin can feel himself getting closer. He tries to get Yoongi out of his head, but all he can see is his dark eyes, staring down at him.

Jimin pulls out without any warning and flips Sooyeon over. She yelps in surprise, hands slapping down on the mattress before she can face-plant, but as soon as he grabs her hips from behind and repositions himself against her, she must realize what he’s doing. She spreads her legs more and arches her back down, hips up, and presses back against him. He fucks into her from behind, pulling her hips up to meet his every thrust. She is getting more vocal now, although she’s still quieter than most women he’s been with. He slides one hand around her hip, plunging it down to massage her folds even as he thrusts into her. She gasps and shudders, bucking her hips to grind against his fingers even more.

She clenches around him with a sharp cry, and he pistons his hips against her until he tips over the edge and spills into the condom.

It’s as Jimin is unlocking his hotel suite not even an hour later, that he feels like something strange has happened. Why had he thought of Yoongi when he was looking up at Sooyeon? And even worse, when he had suddenly pictured the other man’s face, it had been like a switch was flicked inside Jimin.

He grumbles and rubs at his face in irritation before heading into the bathroom to shower all of the club sweat and sex sweat away before crawling into bed and sleeping like a dead man.

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Since he’s in Seoul, Jimin takes advantage of his company’s perk of free gym access to one of the big gym chains in the city. It feels good to work out at the end of a long day of work, letting out all of the energy and tension that has accumulated throughout the day of being on constant monitored behavior.

It’s midway through the second week, and Jimin is in the middle of pulling on his pants in the locker room when he feels eyes on him. He quickly buttons and zips up his jeans before turning to look over his shoulder. One of the guys who had also been working out throughout nearly the entire time Jimin had been there that evening is rubbing a towel against his hair while his eyes scan Jimin. He can tell this isn’t the, “Look at this puny guy, what the hell is he even doing here look,” but rather the, “I wouldn’t mind getting my hands on some of that,” look. Jimin's used to both, so he can easily tell the difference.

He smirks, and runs a hand through his own damp hair. Pretending to ignore the guy, he returns his attention to his locker and his bag, pulling out his shirt and making a show of flexing when he tugs it down over his torso. When his head pops out of the collar, the other guy is much closer.

“Like what you see?” Jimin raises his eyebrows, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

“Only if you like what you see,” is the response.

Jimin makes a show of checking him out. He has the build of an athlete, like a soccer player, or a baseball player. He’s taller than Jimin, but only by maybe seven or eight centimeters; not overwhelming. He’s got somewhat of an average face, but it’s free of any acne scars or other blemishes, and he has sharp eyes beneath his full eyebrows. His short hair is dyed a slightly yellowy brown; not a color Jimin would ever dye his own hair, but it doesn’t look awful on the other man.  

“I guess it’s not bad,” he acquiesces.

“The name’s Sungwoo, by the way.”

“Jimin.”

“You busy after this?” Sungwoo shifts away, as if he doesn’t care about Jimin anymore, and then he realizes that someone has walked into the locker room.

“Nope. You?”

“Same.”  

Jimin finishes gathering his belongings, and then turns to him.

Sungwoo gestures with his thumb toward the exit. “Right. Come on, then.”

They go back to Sungwoo’s apartment, which is much smaller than Jimin’s hotel suite; only a small kitchenette-slash-dining-slash-living area, with a room off to the side and a door that he presumes leads to a bathroom.

Almost as soon as they enter the apartment, Sungwoo swoops down on him. Jimin gets manhandled over to the bed, laughing a little at the ridiculousness of it.

“A little eager, are we?” he teases. Jimin’s already lost his shirt to the floor, and his pants and underwear quickly follow. No foreplay; just straight to the point. Good. He watches as Sungwoo removes all of his clothing as well, just dropping everything onto the floor without a care.

“I’m going to wreck you so good,” he promises. He pushes Jimin’s face aside and goes straight for his neck, licking and sucking hard at the skin. His strong hands squeeze and rub all over Jimin’s body. It’s a little bit too hard at times, but Jimin doesn’t mind so much. He can do it rough.

“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you.” Sungwoo slides down Jimin’s body, pushing his legs apart, lifting them over his shoulders and hoisting him up a little. Jimin grabs a pillow and shoves it under his hips; cramping up in the middle of sex is one of the most annoying things, and it’s happened enough times for him to learn.

Sungwoo presses his face to the space between Jimin’s dick and his thigh, breathing heavily against his skin and massaging him. Jimin expects a blowjob, so when a hot, thick tongue begins pressing into him, he lets out a surprised moan. Holy fuck, he’s never been rimmed before, and it feels…better than amazing. He’s honestly never been keen on the idea, never wanted to do it for anyone else, but he knows now that he’ll never turn down the offer if he gets it again.

“Oh my god,” he sighs, taking in several deep breaths as the wriggling muscle pushes deeper into him.

Sungwoo’s left hand is flat on his stomach, rubbing up and down his abs. Jimin takes it and brings it up to his chest, where it massages and then pinches his nipple hard. He cries out and begins gyrating his hips when a finger pushes in alongside the tongue, stretching him and going even deeper. It feels so, so good…but then Sungwoo shifts his head slightly, and Jimin feels teeth on his rim. They begin to pinch hard at the skin, and he yelps.

“No, don’t—I don’t wa—ah!” The fingers push hard against his prostate, and the teeth scrape along his skin. Jimin freaks out just a little bit, but luckily the man doesn’t actually bite him. It certainly succeeds in getting his heart pumping, though.

Sungwoo pulls away, straightening up. He leans over to grab a condom packet, and rolls it onto his heavy, rock-hard dick. He smirks down at Jimin, gasping and twitching on the bed. Jimin feels very small all of a sudden, in all manners of speaking. He gasps when he’s manhandled into a sitting position, Sungwoo’s hand on the back of his neck.

“Come’ere, I wanna just look at you for a minute.”

Jimin frowns, not sure what he’s supposed to do, but Sungwoo sighs and uses his fingers to smooth out his eyebrows. His legs are on either side of the larger man’s waist as he sits on his thighs.

“No frowning, baby. Just be. That’s it. Yeah.” He tilts Jimin’s chin up a little. “Open your mouth. Wider.”

Without warning, Sungwoo enters him. Jimin cries out immediately due to his mouth already being open, but he quickly snaps it shut as he grimaces. Even with prep, the other man is larger than Jimin’s had in a while. He has to remember to breathe deep, to force himself to relax so Sungwoo can move inside him more easily. But even so, it’s too big, too big, and Jimin doesn’t like it. The much stronger man is relentless in pounding into him. Jimin’s not usually so vocal this soon, but he cries out loudly at every thrust, and it’s not because it feels good.

It doesn’t.

Suddenly there are large hands wrapping around his neck, and his eyes shoot open. When the fingers begin to squeeze, first gently, then more firmly, he panics. He has never, ever liked this kind of sex, and it’s even worse because he doesn’t know Sungwoo. He doesn’t know him at all, and he has no reason to trust him.

Puh—luh—ease,” is all he can manage to get out, before he’s unable to breathe, unable to make any sound other than a strange rasping as tiny bits of air get through. But not enough. He pries at the hands on his throat unsuccessfully, and his vision begins to blacken. His hands weaken, and drop to the bed.

Abruptly the chokehold is gone, and a shock of oxygen rushes into his lungs at the same moment that Sungwoo shoves hard against his prostate. He screams, and tries to push the other man off, but his wrists are gathered together in one of Sungwoo’s hands and pressed up against the headboard so he can’t move them.

“You’re—so fucking—tight,” Sungwoo gasps, using his other hand to bend Jimin’s legs up more, fingers pressing painfully hard into his thighs.

“St—stop, stop please,” Jimin begs, tears streaming down his face at this point. “It hurts, please, Sungwoo, I don’t—”

He’s cut off when he’s backhanded across the face. He gasps, the shock putting a stop to his tears. But he immediately begins to fight back even more, writhing in his hold.

Yeah, that’s it, baby, that’s more like it!” Sungwoo croons at him, pulling all the way out and slamming back in. He presses his hand against Jimin’s throat again, and the darkness comes faster this time before the hand is pulled away.

Eventually, Sungwoo orgasms with a long, loud groan, and pulls out. He leaves Jimin lying there, half conscious, as he goes to wash up. At the sound of the shower turning on, a rush of adrenaline shoots through him, and he pushes himself up. He has to get out.

When he first gets up off of the bed, he collapses to the ground and has to nearly drag himself to his pile of clothes. Fumbling, he somehow manages to get his clothes back on, not caring that he’s dirty underneath them. He can still hear the shower running, so he takes his chance and stumbles out of the apartment. He calls a taxi on his way down to the street, and sits, shaking, on a nearby bench as he waits.

The moment he gets inside his hotel suite, he sinks to the floor against the door. He doesn't cry. But he trembles and hugs his knees to his chest in a way he hasn't done in a very long time.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, but eventually he drags himself to his feet and bathes before climbing into bed. He sleeps the rest of the night and has a great deal of trouble with work the following day.

There are dark bruises on his body; his neck and wrists are the problematic ones, but he also has marks on his hips and thighs. He does his best to cover up the visible bruises with concealer; the warm weather makes it more suspicious to wear clothing with high collars and long sleeves. He finds himself flinching at any unexpected contact, and has to laugh it off a few times when he accidentally pulls away from well-known clients patting him on the shoulder or touching his arm as they joke around and discuss the details of their proposals.

One night when he is sitting in the living area of the suite, nursing a can of beer and watching a movie on TV, he finds himself thinking about Daegu. He hadn’t bothered getting the contact information of any of the guys, not seeing the point since he couldn’t see himself going back any time soon. Next year would probably be the earliest.

He wonders what Min Yoongi is up to at the moment. Is he roaring around Daegu on his motorcycle like the ridiculous daredevil he is? Has he found another man to bring back to his bed? Jimin pulls out his phone and goes to his photo album. He hadn’t taken many photos, but he’d taken a few that weekend. There is only one photo with Yoongi; he’s in the background, laughing with Hoseok about something. Jimin taps to zoom in, and stares at his face until the screen goes black. He groans and drops his head back on the sofa.

“Why am I even bothering?” he wonders aloud. “There’s no point.”

That night, he dreams. He can’t remember much in the morning, other than that in the dream it is nighttime, he is somewhere near a large river, and he watches as Yoongi’s motorcycle goes catapulting over the railing of the high bridge Jimin is standing on. He watches as the biker is flung from his vehicle, arms flailing in the air, before both the bike and Yoongi plunge into the dark depths below. Dream Jimin doesn’t even hesitate before climbing over the railing and diving in after.

Jimin wakes up in a cold sweat, breathing heavily. He feels sick to his stomach, and the gulp of water he drinks doesn’t really help. He thinks he might have drowned in his dream, but he’s not sure.

He unlocks his phone, stares at the picture for a minute, and then deletes it. Better to not have a reminder.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 5: 'Connect'

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The bruises darken as they slowly heal over the course of several days. They’re taking longer to disappear than Jimin expected, and it’s not until he notices that he’s fallen out of his daily routine that he realizes why: he hasn’t been eating healthy homemade meals, so he’s been missing his required vitamins and minerals, and he’s half-heartedly been exercising, not having the energy to really bother with pushing himself. He has no desire to go back to the gym and risk running into Sungwoo again. And even though it’s only been a week or so, he feels how the strength in his wrists is going when he tries opening a bottle of spring water and struggles more than he’s used to.

He hasn’t changed his drinking habits, but instead of going out regularly to clubs or bars, he’s been staying in to drink alone. He doesn’t realize that he’s unconsciously avoiding going anywhere where he might find someone to hook up with. He hasn’t even touched himself in days.

He still goes to work as usual, though. He can’t cancel on his clients, and there are only a few more days left before he can head back to Busan and relax. He needs to get away from Seoul. He needs the sea, and the sun, and the fresh air.

On his last Thursday—only one day more of work in Seoul—Jimin is walking to his car after dealing with his last client of the day when he freezes. He can’t believe it. There, leaning against his Bugatti and engrossed in the phone in his hand, is Min Yoongi. The other man is clad in a simple outfit; just pale ripped jeans and a white t-shirt that is fluttering a little where it’s not stuck to his skin from sweat. His black hair is messy from the city wind, but he looks so good. It’s like he’s glowing, or radiating off some kind of quiet energy that speaks to Jimin. It honestly feels like a dream. Jimin stares at him for several seconds before continuing to walk toward his car.

“Hey,” Jimin says, as he approaches him. He finds himself smiling widely. Yoongi looks up and smiles back.

“Hey.”

He unlocks the car without another word, and when they both get into the car, he immediately pulls Yoongi in for a kiss. He can’t believe how right it feels. He hasn’t wanted to approach or touch anyone since Sungwoo, but he feels no hesitation now.

“I found you,” Yoongi mumbles against his skin when they break for a moment. Shivers run down Jimin’s spine.

“You did,” is all he responds, kissing the corner of Yoongi’s jaw and sighing into his hair. “How?”

They pull apart when Jimin remembers that they are in a rather public place, and anyone walking by on the sidewalk could look in and see them.

“I was on my way back to my hotel. Were you going anywhere?” Jimin asks before Yoongi can even answer his question. He reaches for his seatbelt.

“I came here to see you.”

Jimin whips his head back to stare at him.

“Well, technically I’m in Seoul for business, but right now, I mean.” The way Yoongi sounds so sure of himself, unafraid to be so blunt, it feels strange. “I happened to notice your car this afternoon on my way to a meeting. It’s kind of hard to miss.” His lips quirk. “And it was still there when I was heading back to my hotel. I changed, and then figured I’d take a chance and hopped into a taxi to come back to see if you were still here.”

“Damn. How long were you waiting?”

Yoongi glances at his watch. “Just over twenty minutes, it looks like. I got a few suspicious looks from people who probably thought I was going to break into or steal your car. I guess I wasn’t really thinking when I picked my outfit, but it’s fucking hot today,” he ends with a groan, and Jimin can only laugh.

“Let’s go back to my hotel, then,” Jimin decides, and pulls out onto the street. “I need to get out of this suit.” It’s too warm for a blazer, but his white button-down still has long sleeves, and he has a navy blue waistcoat on. He tugs his tie to loosen it, and undoes his shirt cuffs before rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. He lets Yoongi steal another wet kiss (that tastes a little like coffee) before he turns the car on and pulls out of the street parking spot.

Yoongi whistles long and low when they enter the suite.

“Living like a king, are you? They just put me up in a normal double room in my hotel. Then again I’m only here for the two days.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty nice, but I’m hardly here other than at night.”

Jimin pauses, and glances at Yoongi. It only takes him a moment to move closer, their mouths joining in a slow kiss. Yoongi licks into his mouth, tilting Jimin’s head to get better access as he explores every crevice.

“Ugh, I forgot how good you are with your tongue,” Jimin laughs as he pulls away for a moment. “I was going to get a quick shower.” He trails off, and hesitates, the question on the tip of his tongue, not sure if he actually wants to ask it.

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, though. “Can I join?”

Jimin knows that coming back to his hotel means they are going to have sex; of course they will, because it’s Yoongi, and what else would they do? But he’s somehow managed to avoid thinking about it. He lets the possibly not-so-smart side of his brain answer.

“Of course.”

They continue to kiss and touch each other as soon as they are in the bathroom. Jimin finds he doesn’t mind the touches, although he keeps feeling a tenseness—almost like jitters from too much caffeine—running through his body somewhat uncomfortably. The jitters mix with his arousal, for an unbelievably confusing sensation. It takes a lot of fumbling for him to get out of his clothes, and even more control to keep from simply tossing the articles of clothing to the floor rather than hang his suit up on the hanger on the door. Yoongi won’t stop kissing him and touching him until they are under the spray of hot water.

Jimin forgets that his bruises are still very much visible, dark purple with a yellowy-green tinge around the edges, and the hot water is washing all of the concealer away that has been hiding the bruises on his neck and wrists. He hears Yoongi suck in his breath loudly, and he touches Jimin’s neck carefully.

“Oh my god, Jimin. What happened?”

“Had a rough night with some gym rat.”

“A rough night?”

“Yeah. We met in the locker room of a gym and went back to his place. I just didn’t expect him to be so rough. I…I’m fine, really. Just…I'm not too keen to repeat the experience.”

Yoongi’s voice is dark. “Did he force you?”

Jimin avoids answering immediately, choosing instead to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s waist, pressing them flush against each other under the hot spray of water.

“Did he?” Yoongi asks again, and Jimin fits his chin into the space between his shoulder and neck.

“Just a little.” He knows he is playing it off, but he feels ashamed for some reason. He doesn’t want to admit how terrified he’d been that night. Men aren’t supposed to feel fear in the way he had in Sungwoo’s bed. That’s what he’s always been taught. “I tried to get him to stop in the middle, but he didn’t.”

He likes the way Yoongi’s hand rubs circles into his back, and the way his fingers run through his hair. He closes his eyes, because Yoongi can’t see his face from this angle.

“I’m sorry.”

“What for? It’s not your fault.”

“I’m sorry because I wish you didn’t have to go through that.”

Jimin leans up to connect their mouths again, licking in and sucking, tasting. He loves Yoongi’s tongue more than he cares to admit. Their kissing eventually becomes more heated, and Yoongi backs him up against the shower room wall.

Yoongi is gentle with him, but not to the point that it feels like he’s being babied, which Jimin appreciates. He can’t help flinching a few times when Yoongi presses against a bruise, and he tenses up with a sharp whimper when Yoongi reaches down to press into him with his fingers. He grabs onto the other man’s wrist before he can pull away, though.

“No, don’t stop. I want this.”

He clings to Yoongi’s neck, gasping and moaning at every movement. When the biker pushes into him bare, he cries out and leans back against the cool wall, his breathing picking up exponentially.

Yoongi, oh, Y-Yoongi, please,” he begs, overwhelmed. “Wait, just…just wait a second.” He has his eyes closed tightly, and he can feel the way Yoongi’s dick is entirely sheathed inside his body. He involuntarily clenches a few times, trying to get used to the feeling of being filled after not even so much as masturbating for a week. Yoongi is panting in his ear, and he can hear the other man swallow loudly.

“Jimin,” he groans. “Can I, ughh, can I move now?”

Jimin nods, then realizes Yoongi can’t see his nod from the angle he’s at. “Y-yes. You can m—oh, fuck.”

Yoongi doesn’t even wait for him to finish his sentence before drawing out and pushing back in. He’s going slow, taking his time. And Jimin appreciates it, but at the same time, he can feel himself loosening up, and he needs more stimulation if he plans on coming.

“Harder. I need you to—aghh! H-hohh, god.”

Yoongi thrusts into him long and hard, holding onto his thighs and pushing him farther up against the wall. His mouth is on Jimin’s neck, licking and kissing, but the kisses are soft and wet rather than strong and marking.

“G-gonna come inside you,” Yoongi suddenly groans, and Jimin clenches around him. It makes the slide harder, and all the more affecting. The older man amps up his pace, rocking into him, shoving Jimin almost painfully against the wall. The angle makes it hard for him to reach his prostate, though, so Jimin uses what strength he has left and clings to Yoongi’s shoulders, wrapping his thighs around him and pulling himself higher.

Yoongi doesn’t seem to notice the change, but Jimin certainly does. He cries out loud, his gasping and squeaky intakes of air between each cry sounding like he’s been running a 10k marathon. The sounds bounce off of the tile walls of the bathroom as they echo and amplify.

Fuck.” Yoongi groans deeply. “I could get off to your voice alone,” he connects their mouths, inadvertently muffling Jimin and making the sounds come high and nasally through his nose instead. Jimin is rocking hard against him, but they don’t let their lips and tongues disconnect from each other the entire time.

Yoongi’s muscles tense up around his body, his grip strengthening around his thighs, and then Jimin feels a rush of heat fill him up inside, lasting for what feels like several seconds. When he imagines all of the cum surging into him, coating his walls, he groans and pulls Yoongi’s tongue deeper into his mouth. There is a momentary pause before Yoongi resumes fucking into him, riding out his orgasm, and abruptly Jimin climaxes, releasing between them without even being touched.

Yoongi loses his footing for a moment when he pulls out with a wet noise not entirely hidden by the sounds of the shower, and they both stumble, bumping Jimin’s head against the wall a little painfully. He curls into Yoongi, laughing hard, before pulling him close to kiss him deeply, cum dripping down his thighs.

There’s something strange, and warm, in his chest as he smiles against Yoongi’s mouth.

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“You hungry? I was just going to order room service for dinner.”

They are sitting on the sofa fifteen minutes later with the TV on as background noise. Jimin is in soft loungewear with one of his bare feet tucked up under him, and Yoongi is back in his jeans and t-shirt. Now that he’s not distracted, Jimin can feel the hunger pangs he was ignoring before.

“Sure.”

They read through the hotel’s menu together before deciding on a simple Korean-style dinner with drinks. Jimin phones down to the reception to make the order. While they wait, Yoongi tugs him down until he’s lying back on the sofa cushions, shirt drawn up to reveal his stomach. It’s a bit of a strange position, with one of Jimin’s legs folded up on the inner side of the sofa, the other hanging off the edge, but he doesn’t mind so much as Yoongi hovers over him.

“You’re so fucking beautiful, do you realize that?” the other man breathes, as if he’s not only disbelieving, but also angry about it. Jimin’s breath catches in his chest. “Look; I want to show you.” Jimin frowns for a moment as Yoongi reaches to take his phone out of his pocket before quickly leaning down to kiss the living daylights out of him. He then straightens up and snaps a photo before Jimin can get his bearings back.

“Fuck.” Yoongi is looking at his phone, and then he holds it out for Jimin to see.

If Jimin was any younger or more innocent, he would probably be blushing from embarrassment, but he is most certainly not innocent, so he only raises his eyebrows at the photo. Other than one time when he fucked a female classmate in front of a bathroom mirror during college, he’s never seen what he looks like when he’s like this. This, meaning; soft from being fucked out, and yet still full of arousal. In the photo, his slightly open lips are puffy, rosy, and wet from the kiss, his cheeks are flushed, and his eyes are lidded and hazy. He hadn’t even realized that his hand had snuck down to slip just barely under the waistline of his pants which were already low on his hips. There is a small dark patch on the front of his crotch where he’s been starting to leak pre-cum. He looks thoroughly inappropriate, and the bruises don’t help.

“Are you going to delete that?” he asks quietly, handing the phone back when the screen goes black from lack of movement.

Yoongi scoffs. “Are you kidding? Of course I’m not deleting it.” He sets the phone down on the ottoman that is between the sofa and TV, and then dips down to mouth at Jimin’s stomach. Jimin knows there is a rather dark bruise just to the side, and when Yoongi gently kisses it, Jimin bites his lip and raises a shaking hand to bury in the other man’s hair, almost petting it. He tries not to think about the fact that Yoongi now has a sexy photo of him in his phone.

Yoongi moves back up to mouth at his collarbones, although his hands continue to massage at Jimin’s stomach and inner hips.

They both jump when the doorbell rings after a while; has that much time passed already? Jimin groans unhappily.

“I can’t get the door like this,” he complains. The damp patch on his pants has increased, and he knows he’s probably flushed and has dewy eyes.

“You do realize that they’re going to roll the food into the room, right? This isn’t like normal delivery.” Which, of course, Jimin knows. Yoongi drags him to his feet and kisses him quickly before letting go. “We can always traumatize the room service guy, or you could disappear while I get the door. Your choice.”

Jimin scrunches up his nose in distaste. “You get the door. I’ll be right back.”

While Yoongi goes to answer the door, Jimin heads back to the bedroom to grab some clothing before going into the bathroom. He peels off the lower half of his outfit and wipes himself off, switching the dirty clothing out for a pair of joggers and a fresh pair of boxer briefs. He’s running his hands through his hair to fix it somewhat when suddenly there are a pair of arms around him and a body pressed up against his back. He gasps and tenses up before he hears Yoongi’s voice in his ear.

“Relax, it’s just me. The food’s all set. Didn’t realize how fucking hungry I was until now. It looks really good.”

Jimin turns in his hold and smiles slightly. “It’d better. It’s five-star quality.”

“Clearly.”

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Jimin doesn’t really offer, and Yoongi doesn’t really ask, but they’re both exhausted from the day, and somehow they both assume that the Daegu man is going to stay the night. After brushing his teeth, Jimin remembers to set the room service cart outside the door and hangs the “do not disturb” sign on the handle before returning to the inside of the suite. He finds Yoongi just inside the doorway to the bedroom.

“That’s a fucking-huge bed. You could have an orgy on there.”

Jimin laughs. “Have you ever actually had an orgy?”

“No. Have you?”

“No. Honestly I think I wouldn’t know what to do with more than one person.”

“Ah, I think it’d be easy if you’re the one getting all the attention. Just imagine; getting fucked and getting blown at the same time. Or fucking someone while getting fucked.”

Jimin does think about it, but for some reason it just doesn’t seem like something he’d do. “Nah, I’m good with just one person.”

Yoongi grins like he’s pleased with that answer, and then moves toward the left side of the bed. Jimin organizes a few things in his luggage before turning back to the bed. He finds Yoongi removing all of his clothing, and Jimin must look a little unsure, because when Yoongi looks up and catches him, he shrugs.

“I just prefer to sleep in the nude,” he explains. Jimin is a little surprised when he doesn’t encourage Jimin to do the same.

He watches as the other man gets comfortable on the mattress, pulling the sheet up to his waist and leaving his bare chest uncovered. He likes the way Yoongi looks under the single sheet, the shape of his body visible except for whenever there is a rumple in the material.

Jimin ends up removing his pants and boxers anyway, but keeps his shirt because the air conditioning is pretty chilly in the bedroom. His over-large shirt hangs low enough to just barely cover his soft cock, and he has a feeling that Yoongi likes the view; he grabs his phone off of the bedside table and takes a picture as Jimin climbs onto the bed: one knee out, the other leg in the middle of lifting off of the floor, both hands planted flat on the mattress.

“Why do you keep taking pictures of me?” Jimin isn’t mad; he’s curious.

“For my own enjoyment. Is that okay? You can take pictures of me if you want, although I can’t guarantee that I’ll be as photogenic as you are. You could fucking model those hideous Gucci clothes Tae loves so much and make them look good.”

“You don’t like Gucci?” Jimin laughs.

“Eh, I prefer Saint Laurent. Less gaudy. But honestly I don’t give a shit about designer brands.”

Jimin doesn’t remember where he put his phone, so he pouts. “I want pictures, too. But I don’t have my phone in here.”

“Not a problem, just use mine. I’ll send them to you. What’s your number?”

Jimin stills. Yoongi wants his number. He knows it’s just to send the photos, but he also knows that if he gives him his number, he doesn’t want to think about how it will probably turn into another one of those meaningless contacts as soon as they go on their separate ways again.

“Okay,” he finds himself saying. He sits back with his heels on either side of his hips as he recites his number. Yoongi seems to like this image of him, too, because he takes another picture. Jimin playfully bats the phone down and away from him, feeling self-conscious.

“I assume you have KakaoTalk?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, I’ll find you on there and send them through a chat.” Then Yoongi hands his phone over, already set to the camera.

Jimin suddenly feels a little embarrassed. He’s never done this with anyone before; he never had a reason too, always expecting to never see his bed partners ever again, and not wanting any reminders or receipts of their encounters.

“What do you want me to do?” Yoongi asks suddenly, reaching back to put one hand behind his head to support it as he looks up at Jimin. His other hand lies across the sheets, fingers curling around Jimin’s knee and stroking lightly. Jimin’s mind goes blank.

“Um, pretend to be asleep?” It comes out more like a question than an order, but Yoongi obligingly closes his eyes. However, as Jimin touches the shutter, Yoongi’s eyes slip open, and he ends up taking a picture of him wearing a very titillating expression with hooded eyes and a slight curl to his lips. Jimin likes it more than he’ll admit aloud. He hands the phone back.

“What, you don’t want any more?”

“No, I want the real thing,” Jimin replies as he crawls over to lie down beside him and capture his lips between his. He feels Yoongi laugh under him, and then a hand clamps down on his bare ass.

“Get that body under these sheets,” he demands, squeezing slightly.

Jimin can’t help the somewhat humiliating giggle that bubbles out of him as they yank the sheet up and he rolls underneath. The sheet catches on the air and balloons over them for a few seconds before settling over their heads, hiding their faces from each other. Yoongi’s disembodied hands slide under the covers and pull him close, fitting their bodies tightly together. Jimin pushes up at the sheet so he can see the grin on Yoongi’s face.

“Hello there,” the biker smirks before drawing him close to kiss him. Jimin eventually pushes the sheet off of their heads mid-kiss because it keeps getting in the way; he really has no interest in kissing a sheet, after all.

Yoongi surprises Jimin by simply kissing him for a very long time until they both begin to drift off to sleep. No sneaky hands, no rubbing against him. Yoongi just keeps pulling him in for more kisses; small ones and soft ones, deep ones and quick ones just barely missing his lips.

For the second time in six hours Jimin thinks it feels like some kind of wonderful, strange dream.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 6: 'Reality'

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There’s a heavy weight around his neck. It’s pressing down, hard. Something is around his neck. Wrapped around his neck. Oh god, there’s something around his neck, choking him.

Jimin’s eyes shoot open. Twisting and kicking out, and yelling hoarsely, he struggles against the weight that is also curled up tightly around both sides of his head. He feels like he’s hyperventilating, and it’s too dark to see anything.

“—the fuck?! Ow! Ji—Jimin!”

The chokehold tightens but then lifts off, and more weight shifts to hold onto his arms and push down on his legs, restraining him. He struggles harder, beginning to sob. He can’t think.

“Let me—let me go! You’re hurting me! Let me goSungwoo, please stop,” he begs, choking on his own saliva.

"Jimin, it's me! It's me! Yoongi. Hyung is here."

“Let me go! Please!”

“Jimin-ah, you’ve got to listen to my voice. Come on. Snap out of it. You’re safe, you’re safe.”

Something about the deep, slightly husky voice gets to him, calms him enough for him to refocus his eyes on the shadow hovering over him. He stops struggling.

“Jimin-ah. Come on. Yeah, that’s it. You’re okay.”

“Yoongi?” He blinks up at the face that is starting to become clearer.

“Yeah. Hyung’s here, okay? You’re safe.”

“‘Hyung’?” He’s still breathing heavily, and his brain is short-circuiting, but he can just barely register the suffix. It feels good; grounding to say. “Yoongi-hyung?”

“Yeah, that’s it. It’s me, Jimin-ah.”

He swallows a mouthful of air and then whimpers and presses himself against Yoongi.

“Did you have a nightmare?”

“No, I felt something, something around my neck.”

“Around your neck? Oh—maybe my arm? I might’ve moved in my sleep. I dunno. Sorry about that. I’ll try to be more careful next time.”

Jimin coughs slightly, throat feeling dry all of a sudden. “I’m going to get a glass of water.” He carefully climbs out of bed, immediately getting reminded of the fact that he’s wearing nothing but a large shirt. He feels a little self-conscious as he walks through the suite even though no one is watching. He catches a glimpse of his reflection in the refrigerator door and wraps his arms around himself a little when he realizes exactly how provocative he looks. No wonder Yoongi kept taking photos of him.

While he’s in the other room, he also picks up his phone from the counter where he’d left it when they had gotten back to the suite earlier. He sets an alarm for the morning; Jimin often wakes up before his alarm anyway, but he has a feeling that he will have trouble waking up in the morning tomorrow after this.

When he returns to the bedroom, Yoongi is sitting up slightly, propped up against the pillows and headboard. It’s clear that he was waiting for Jimin.

“Come here, Jimin.” Yoongi holds his hand out to him, and Jimin sets the water on the bedside table before climbing back onto the bed. He lets Yoongi pull him down on top of him as the other man slides back down onto the mattress. He feels Yoongi sigh deeply, his stomach rising and falling underneath Jimin’s body. He places his palm on the bare skin, feeling the warmth seep into his hand that is cool from holding the glass of water.

Yoongi’s arm slips around his waist, pulling him closer. “Feeling better?” he murmurs, lips brushing against the side of Jimin’s temple as he speaks.

Jimin just hums affirmatively rather than verbally responding, and buries himself a little closer. He feels young, and a little embarrassed; this is Yoongi, after all. The man who tied his arms up and fucked him hard in the passenger seat of Jimin’s own car, where anyone driving past could have seen them. The biker isn’t supposed to be the one Jimin goes to for comfort. But he finds he can’t help it.

“Mm. I’m glad.” Yoongi shifts a little, and lifts Jimin’s chin so they can kiss. His mouth is soft against Jimin’s, lips a little dry, but not unpleasantly so. He takes his time licking into Jimin’s mouth, gradually increasing the depth of the kiss, tightening his grip on his waist and the back of his head.

Their cocks rub against each other, gradually hardening, but exhaustion wins out, and Jimin’s kisses grow sloppier and drift away from Yoongi’s mouth to his jaw, and then his neck as he sighs sleepily and rubs his hips down in slowing circular motions. His soft moans become quieter and more like sighs before going silent all together.

His mouth goes slack against Yoongi’s collar and he nestles his forehead against the pillow by Yoongi’s ear. He doesn’t notice the way Yoongi carefully draws his shirt down to cover his body where it had risen up, nor the way the other man’s hand settles warmly against the small of his back.

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Despite waking up in the middle of the night, Jimin is awake close to fifteen minutes before his alarm, thanks to his trusty internal clock. He quickly turns off the alarm in his phone before it goes off and wakes up Yoongi. He shifts and looks back over at the other man, sleeping soundly beside him.

He frowns, remembering the night before. All of the soft touches and kisses without sex. The way he had comforted and taken care of Jimin not only after the incident in the middle of the night, but also earlier during their shower. And the way Yoongi’s voice had sounded when he said, “I found you,” in the car.

Jimin feels a tingle run down his spine. A little unpleasant, but not completely so. He continues staring at Yoongi for a while, taking in his features. The way his frown smooths in his sleep, his eyelids relaxed, thin eyelashes hovering just over his smooth skin with its tiny freckles scattered here and there. His small rounded nose, his perfect cupid’s bow and slightly open lower lip. Jimin bites his own, now, resisting the abrupt urge to connect their mouths. The pull is strong, so very strong, but his resistance to temptation is stronger. It always has been.

He’d been emotionally weak yesterday after breaking down over the past week, but he isn’t now.

He turns away and carefully gets out of bed. He takes a quick shower; it’s not like they properly washed up yesterday, anyway. They were too busy getting even dirtier than they’d been when they entered. Jimin shakes his head, smiling a little as he rinses out the shampoo from his hair. When he’s done with his shower, he goes about getting ready. He only has two appointments today; a nine-thirty meeting with the CEO to go over everything he needs to take back to his own branch in Busan, and then a lunch appointment with one last client who’d had to reschedule last week due to their child falling sick in school. But then he’s done, and can return home.

Jimin’s standing in front of the coffee maker, getting ready to pour himself a cup—a second mug waiting beside his own—when a pair of arms wrap themselves around his waist, drawing him in close to the other man’s body. Yoongi hums something that sounds a little like, “Mmcoffeemm,” and kisses the back of his neck. Jimin leans back, and lets him kiss his neck a little more, before bracing himself and speaking.

"What is this?"

"Hmm?" Yoongi nuzzles his neck, sucking lightly but not enough to leave a mark.

"What are you doing, hyung?"

"Kissing you."

"No. Why are you here? Why did you come to see me?"

The arms around his waist tighten, then let go completely. Yoongi backs off.

"Do you want me to leave?"

"I didn't say that." Jimin turns so they're facing each other. "What do you want from me?"

"I don't want anything." Yoongi's face is closed off.

"Don't lie to me. What do you want? A fuck buddy? A plaything to take care of? A boyfriend? We don’t even live in the same city. You want a long-distance relationship based on sex? What do you want?"

Yoongi purses his lips.

"Taehyung warned me against you, you know," Jimin continues. "He told me something along the lines of, 'he loves his wheels more than his lovers.' I didn't care at the time, because honestly I wasn't looking for anything more than a good fuck. But now...."

"But now?" Yoongi prompts him. He steps closer.

Jimin won't get tricked. "I asked first. What do you want, Min Yoongi? Why are you being so…with me?" He gestures between them because he doesn’t know what word he’s looking for to describe Yoongi properly. Soft? Caring? Loving? That last one, especially, is the scariest word that comes to mind, and he doesn’t want to say it aloud, even though it seems to best describe Yoongi’s actions over the past several hours.

"I want you."

Jimin lets him invade his personal space, lets him put both hands on either side of him on the counter. 

"You need to be more specific than that." He vaguely realizes that he's whispering. Their faces are mere centimeters apart, and it feels like they are having a staring contest with a penalty so dire that neither one wants to risk losing.

"Yoongi," Jimin breathes. 

"I think I...."

He can feel Yoongi's breath on his lips. It’s warm and smells a little like toothpaste.

“To be honest, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you,” Yoongi says, lips brushing against his. Touching, but not kissing. His hands are now tight around Jimin’s body, holding him close. “You didn’t even get any of our numbers; I asked the others, but no one had your number. Not even Jungkook, who I heard you had some naked bonding time with at the sauna that day.”

“And now you have my number,” Jimin points out, ignoring the frustrated and somewhat jealous tone Yoongi takes when he mentions the other biker’s name. “With sexy pictures of me to boot.”

“I can delete them if you really want me to,” Yoongi frowns. Jimin shakes his head.

“That’s not the point. I don’t care about that.”

There’s silence for a moment. Not tense, not particularly uncomfortable, but there’s a sense of unfinished thoughts. Yoongi is waiting for him to continue.

“You see,” Jimin holds his gaze steadily as he speaks slowly, “I’m good at one night stands. I can deal with no strings attached. You broke the rules, though, Yoongi. And as soon as someone starts treating me soft, I have a tendency to fall badly; I easily get hurt.” He struggles a little to say the next words, and it’s not because Yoongi’s pressing his lips against the corner of his mouth. “And I get jealous and insecure quickly because it doesn’t take much for me to think my partner has gotten bored of me…or only wants me for my money.”

He doesn’t go into detail about how depressed and self-destructive he gets after break ups, even when they are clean and respectable. He stops eating, he doesn’t bother socializing, he doesn’t clean, and he spends hours just sitting or lying down—sometimes even in the middle of his living room floor. He doesn’t talk about how he will start second-guessing every little interaction, seeing only the wrong angles and not trusting the good ones:

Is he smiling at me because he’s endeared, or is he laughing mockingly at me?

Is she pushing me away because she feels embarrassed by showing affection in public, or is she flirting with the guy at the table nearby and doesn’t want it to look like we’re together?

Is he not answering his messages because he’s genuinely busy staying late at work, or is he hooking up with someone else and not planning on coming home?

He doesn’t go into detail, but he doesn’t have to.

“I don’t want your money,” Yoongi starts with, and Jimin fights off a scoff. “Sure, your car might have gotten my attention in the beginning, but seriously? That only holds my attention for a few hours, tops, before getting old.”

“My body, then,” Jimin nods matter-of-factly. He can’t say he’s disappointed; he’d assumed that would be the case. Of course Min Yoongi is obsessed with his body.

“I—well, sure, maybe in the beginning,” he says, again, “and yeah, I admit I’m having trouble keeping my hands off you, because everything about you is fucking irresistable,” his hands are securely holding either side of the smallest part of Jimin’s waist over his dark gray waistcoat, “but—I don’t know, Jimin. Obviously we don’t know each other all that well yet. But...what I do know, I like, and I feel like…there’s something there.”

“Something there?”

“Yeah. I don’t know exactly,” he adds. “Don’t you…feel it, too? Or is it just sex to you?”

Jimin’s never been presented with that question to his face. He’s objectively had conversations about it, but to hear it come straight from Yoongi’s mouth feels…frightening.

“It’s…I mean, it kind of is,” he admits slowly, and luckily Yoongi doesn’t seem to be the kind of person to jump to conclusions and freak out immediately; he’s far too chill for that. His expression is still mostly closed off, but he waits for Jimin to continue. “I mean, I don’t know you at all. I wasn’t…I slept with a couple of people since Daegu.”

“At least one of whom you didn’t enjoy,” Yoongi points out gingerly.

“I did in the beginning. He was…it was really good in the beginning.” Jimin is just a little bit impressed that Yoongi doesn’t even cringe or look angry. “And I enjoyed the girl I fucked the other week.” He suddenly remembers that strange moment when he’d thought of Yoongi right in the middle of sex at the love hotel. He doesn’t mention it.

“Two people, then. So you didn’t think about me at all?” he sounds like he’s expecting a ‘no’ in return.

“I didn’t say that. It came up a few times.” Jimin is just too used to pushing things away and keeping everything at arms’ distance.

“And are you interested? In trying it? See if it could work? Honestly, Daegu and Busan are only an hour away from each other. It’s not that far.”

“What are you proposing? Meeting up on the weekends or something?” Jimin’s tone of voice has gone from cautious to curious. But he pulls away a little so he can pour the coffees; he really doesn’t have time for a long, drawn-out conversation right now, to tell the truth.

Yoongi shrugs. “Well I know it works for other people.”

“Okay,” Jimin finds himself saying. It’s like he lost control of his vocal cords.

“'Okay'? So you want to do this?” Yoongi looks skeptical. “Are you willing to give up all of your extra partners?”

“What is this, a business transaction?” Jimin snorts. “Fine. Not a problem. I know how relationships work, you know.”

“Yes, well,” Yoongi leans in close. “I don’t like sharing.”

“Noted,” Jimin breathes. “Now can you stop riling me up? I need to check out of the room and be to the office by nine-fifteen.”

“Of course. As long as I get a kiss to seal the deal,” he says cheekily. Jimin laughs at him, but is the one to lean forward this time. They slowly kiss, hands loosely around each other, until Jimin’s phone goes off in his pocket.

Yoongi has to get off to work and check out of his own hotel, so he heads out right after he finishes his coffee. He’ll be off work by three, whereas Jimin is done by the end of lunch.

“How did you get to Seoul? Did you drive?” Jimin asks as he gathers all of his toiletries from the bathroom with Yoongi observing and nursing his coffee.

“Took the KTX.”

“I could…” Jimin hesitates. “If you want, I could wait for you to finish, and I could give you a lift? Daegu’s on the way, after all. As long as you don’t have a shit-ton of luggage—I don’t exactly have much spare space left.”

“That would be great. And nope, I barely brought anything. All the bulky stuff I brought is being left here anyway. I’ll just cancel my ticket online and get a refund.”

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 Jimin is walking down the hallway at the office, on his way out of his very long meeting with the CEO, when his phone buzzes twice. Two messages, in quick succession. He doesn't recognize the number, but that's not uncommon with his line of work. He opens the message—and promptly closes it, shoving the phone into his pocket before anyone can see the photo of Yoongi lying naked in bed (although only his chest is visible, Jimin knows better), a sly expression on his face.

He keeps his phone safely in his pocket until he's on his way out of the building, and he can stop by a restroom. He opens the message again and saves it to his phone in a new folder labeled 'untitled 1.' Nothing like an especially boring label to keep people from clicking on it if they happen to get access to his phone. He also adds Yoongi to his address book.

He just barely remembers to check the second message, which was just a simple, ‘hey’ without capitalization or punctuation. Jimin snorts. It’s always interesting to find out the texting style of people after you’ve already gotten to know them in person.

Jimin doesn’t have time to reply, so he doesn’t.

His lunch appointment goes by smoothly, ending close to two in the afternoon, so he heads over to a café near Yoongi to wait. He texts his brother Jihyun while he sips at an iced coffee. Jihyun is moving to a new apartment tomorrow, and Jimin has offered to help out. Well—to be honest he didn’t have a choice. Jimin may be an adult, living on his own, but his mother certainly still has the ability to boss him around.

To Jihyun:

Sent 14:13

Can’t remember if I need to clean

out the Kia before I come over

tmrw. What time are you planning

to start?

From Jihyun:

Received 14:16

landlord said he’ll have the key

ready at 8am

2 early 4 u?

To Jihyun:

Sent 14:16

Kinda.

I can be there by 9?

From Jihyun:

Received 14:17

that’s fine

meet me at the new place

Received 14:19

[Jihyun has shared a location with you]

then we can strategize

To Jihyun:

Sent 14:20

Thanks

Yeah. It’s been a while since I moved.

Out of practice. keke

When his phone buzzes next, it’s not from Jihyun, but from Yoongi.

From Min Yoongi:

Received 14:21

Hey I should be out a little early.

In about 20min.

Where should I meet you?

To Min Yoongi:

Sent 14:22

Nice.

I’m down in a café about two blocks

from you. Do we need to stop by your

hotel for your shit?

From Min Yoongi:

Received 14:27

Got everything here with me.

gotta go.

see you soon

 

Yoongi doesn’t text him again until close to two forty-five, saying he’s on his way. Jimin gets up and orders an iced Americano for him, also getting an iced tea for himself for the drive. He’s waiting by the pick-up counter when Yoongi walks into the café, the tiny bell over the door tinkling to announce his entrance. Jimin smiles and raises his hand in greeting as the man strolls over. He’s in ‘business casual,’ his white button-down already unbuttoned a bit at the top to reveal the similarly white undershirt below. His simple black slacks compliment his slim legs; it’s a look Jimin appreciates, although he thinks he prefers the messy, grungy style of Yoongi’s everyday personal clothes.

Even so, he can’t help the jibe. “Look who cleans up well.”

Yoongi snorts and leans against the counter. “Shut it. What did you order, anyway?”

“Just a couple drinks—ah, here we are. Thanks,” he directs the last of his sentence toward the barista who sets their drinks on the counter. “Here. For you,” Jimin says as he hands Yoongi the coffee.

“Ugh, you’re the fucking best. I need this.”

Despite drinking a full cup of coffee, Yoongi falls asleep about thirty minutes into the drive. Jimin turns down the music they've been listening to, keeping it just loud enough to enjoy on his own. It’s pleasant having someone else in the car with him, even if Yoongi is asleep and not making a very good conversationalist.

Jimin stops at a rest stop along the way because he has just been drinking a bunch of liquids, and he keeps the keys in the car when he leaves Yoongi asleep in the car. He comes back out to find Yoongi standing outside, stretching and yawning.

“Good morning,” Jimin teases once he’s closer. “Sleep well?”

“Like a goddamn baby. Woke up a second ago; it was too quiet, I think.”

“Do you need to use the restroom or buy anything before we head back out? I’m good to go otherwise.”

Yoongi seems to think about it for a moment before nodding. “I guess I might as well. We might hit traffic when we reach Daegu. Be right back.”

Jimin gets back into the car to wait. He checks his phone, but there are no new messages from his brother.

Yoongi is carrying a small plastic bag when he gets back. Jimin eyes it, but doesn’t ask; he doesn’t feel like they are close enough to be nosy about personal purchases yet.

“Are you allergic to anything?” Yoongi suddenly asks, as Jimin is getting buckled. He raises his eyebrows and shoots the older man a confused look.

“No? Why?”

“Close your eyes and open your mouth, then.”

Oh. Jimin rolls his eyes but does as directed, just hoping that whatever it is that’s about to go into his mouth is not messy. He’d noticed a farm stand with a multitude of fruits and vegetables when he’d gone inside the rest stop, but he hadn’t looked too closely at what they were selling.

He hears rustling plastic, and then feels Yoongi lean over him and press their lips together. Jimin smiles in amusement against the kiss, keeping his eyes shut, and then he feels something slightly cold, slippery, and sweet press at his lips. When he opens his mouth to receive the piece of fruit, he knows instantly that it is a cherry. Sliced in half, by the feel of it, and so, so sweet as he carefully chews it. He opens his eyes a little to see Yoongi staring back at him with intense eyes, and then he shuts them again, opening his mouth wider and humming against Yoongi’s lips.

When they finally pull away, both of their mouths just a little redder, Jimin hits the biker playfully on the arm.

“You just wanted an excuse to kiss me, you smartass.”

Yoongi smirks, and pops another cherry half into his own mouth; he has a small plastic container filled with pitted cherry halves, bloody red juice filling the bottom of the container.

“That, I won’t deny,” he says. He takes another cherry between his fingers this time and presses it into Jimin’s open mouth.

“Don’t you dare spill that in here,” he warns, holding onto Yoongi’s wrist to lick his fingers clean.

The other man snorts. “As if this car hasn’t already had your cum all over it.”

“There’s a difference between that and cherry juice, which stains like hell,” he points out right before accepting another cherry half. “Ugh,” he groans, then. “I need another kiss before getting back on that highway.”

Yoongi obliges without complaint, snapping the cherry container shut and tying off the bag so it doesn’t drip should it leak. He licks deep into Jimin’s mouth, and they taste each other for several minutes before they finally separate, breathing heavily.

“Great,” Jimin frowns. “Now I get to drive another hour plus with a boner,” he jokes. He doesn’t actually have one, but it draws a laugh from his passenger, and another quick kiss.

“I could always help you take care of it,” Yoongi says, even as he also pulls his seatbelt across his chest to get buckled.

“Maybe another time.”

Jimin starts the car and pulls back onto the expressway.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 7: ‘Busan’

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“You should stay the night,” Yoongi murmurs against Jimin’s mouth, nearly empty take-out containers scattered by their feet in Yoongi’s living room. They’re sitting on the floor, their backs up against his futon sofa as they kiss. Yoongi’s hand is down Jimin’s pants, but it’s gently massaging him rather than just getting him off; the both of them still have the decency to not ruin good business wear just for a quick hand job, and even though Yoongi has switched to comfortable clothes, Jimin is still in his work wear.  

Jimin pushes against the hand, shifting so that Yoongi’s thigh is also between his legs, and breathes out shakily.

“I can’t. I’ve got stuff to do first thing in the morning.” He forces himself to pull away a little, even though he really wants more. He wants Yoongi inside him so badly, but he doesn’t have the time. “My little brother is moving and I’ve got to help out.”

“Damn. What about Sunday? What are you doing then?”

Jimin tries to think around the sensations distracting him in his pants. He gasps a little, biting at Yoongi’s lips.

“Uh…I don’t—hyung,” he whines suddenly, unable to think. “Please.”

Yoongi pulls him up to his knees, yanking his pants down to his thighs, and takes him in his mouth. A strangled sound makes its way up and out of Jimin’s throat as he clutches the back of Yoongi’s head with one hand, the other bracing himself on the sofa cushion behind them.

Fuck.” He thrusts into Yoongi’s mouth a little, but the other man is just too good on his own, and it doesn’t take long for Jimin to become a gasping mess. When he comes, Yoongi swallows him down completely, and then tucks him back into his pants before drawing him down into his lap.

He brushes Jimin’s sweaty hair out of his eyes. Jimin is still fighting to come down from his high, and he loves the way Yoongi stares at him, stroking the sides of his warm cheeks with the backs of his fingers.

“Sunday. You free?” Yoongi prompts again, and this time Jimin doesn’t hesitate, even though he can’t remember if he actually has anything planned.

“Yes. Yes, Sunday. Oh god.” He presses their mouths together roughly, tasting himself on Yoongi’s tongue. Oh, he wants so much more, but he can’t, not right now.

Jimin makes it back to his car and is on the last leg of his trip back to Busan, to Haeundae. Now, finally separated from Yoongi, he can think more clearly, and he wonders doubtfully if this relationship is going to work out between them. Everything is so goddamn physical and sexual between them; not that he’s complaining about that, but he just doesn’t see how that’s going to help them last if they’re not together.

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Jimin is relieved when he finds that his Kia Soul doesn’t need too much emptying before heading over to help his brother with the move. He tosses a few loose receipts and takes out his gym shoes and basketball from the trunk so they don’t accidentally end up in Jihyun’s new place with his other junk. Then he folds down the back seat and drives over to Jihyun’s old apartment.

“How was Seoul?” Jihyun asks when Jimin jogs up the steps to help with a bulky box when he arrives. Jihyun’s own car is already half-filled with boxes and bins.

“All right,” Jimin says vaguely. Other than the texts yesterday, he hasn’t talked with anyone in his family since he left for Seoul. Jihyun knows Jimin stopped in Daegu for the motor show, but other than that, he hasn’t talked with anyone.

“Just all right?” Jihyun laughs. “I mean, yeah; work is work, but still. You didn’t do anything fun on the weekends? How was Daegu, then?”

Jimin can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. “Good. It was…real fun, actually.”

He knows his brother is looking at him carefully. “There’s something you’re not telling me,” he edges. When Jimin only grins, he continues. “Did you meet someone? This feels like the way hyung gets when there’s someone new.”

“Okay, okay. Yeah. I met someone.”

“And?” They both groan as they heave the box in as far as it can go and then immediately turn to go back up the stairs.

And, it’s still very new, so I’m not exactly sure what it’s going to turn into, so I’d rather not talk about it just yet,” he evades.

“Right, right.” Jihyun is used to the way Jimin gets when he’s in a new relationship. They both know that the relationships don’t often last long, so Jimin doesn’t like to waste his time with introductions most of the time. Jihyun’s always the first to meet his girlfriends or boyfriends, but even so, there haven’t been many he’s even bothered to introduce. “Can you at least tell me if it’s a girl or guy?”

“Guy.”

“Met in Daegu?”

“Yeah.”

“Hm.”

Jimin appreciates the space his younger brother gives him. He’s not ready to talk about Yoongi, and he’s certainly not about to tell his brother about his incident with Sungwoo. Jimin has begun to feel better since telling Yoongi about that night; it has been stewing inside him, eating away at him because he keeps telling himself it is stupid; pointless to be upset about. It isn’t worth telling anyone or reporting to anyone. But telling at least one person seems to have lifted just a little bit of the weight from inside his chest.

They load up the Kia with most of the more miscellaneous items, and strap the sofa to the roof before Jimin gets in and follows his brother across the city. It takes three trips because both cars aren’t terribly big.

Around lunch time, their parents arrive with containers of homemade kimbap and kimchi. Despite Jimin’s father having a well-paying job, and their family being generally well-off, his mother still insists on home-cooking the way her mother had before her. It’s probably part of the reason why Jimin still makes an effort to live humbly—other than his car hobby, of course—despite pulling in significant figures on top of his inheritance.

The four of them continue working for close to another hour before sitting down to eat. Jimin and Jihyun sit on the floor against a stack of boxes while their parents sit on the sofa as they all eat. Jimin thinks it’s a nice apartment; bright and open, with a long balcony which currently has the sliding door open to let in the warm sea breeze. Jimin also has a sea-view apartment, although the view is a little different, being fifteen minutes north of Jihyun’s. The four of them make small talk and catch up on each other’s lives; their parents still live in Geumjeong, although Jimin and Jihyun are trying to convince them to move closer. Jimin thinks the sea will be good for their health, but his parents are stubborn people and still have yet to give in.

Jimin is closing up some of the empty containers when his phone buzzes in his pocket. It’s from Yoongi.

From: Min Yoongi

Received 13:43

What time is good for me to

arrive tmrw?

Still need your address btw.

Jimin indicates to the others that he’ll be out on the balcony, and steps out into the thirty-two-degree afternoon air. His shirt sticks to his chest and back a little uncomfortably.

To: Min Yoongi

Sent 13:47

How early do you wanna get here?

You can show up whenever. I left

the day open. Just about finished

at my brother’s. I think my evening

is free if you want to call?

From: Min Yoongi

Received 13:50

Tonight’s free?

To: Min Yoongi

Sent 13:50

Yeah

From: Min Yoongi

Received 13:50

Why don’t I just come tonight, then?

Jimin thinks about it. After finishing up here, he probably will head back to his place, and just relax. He’s exhausted and slightly sore from all of the box hauling. He hasn’t really planned anything other than to do his laundry and perhaps clean up his apartment a little after abandoning it for so long. Maybe buy some food to put in his fridge. He sends one more text telling Yoongi that any time after six is probably fine, and then sends a location pin. He goes back into the living room and finds everyone cleaning up and going back to unpacking the larger pieces of furniture.

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Yoongi arrives just after eight PM. Jimin buzzes him through the door in the lobby downstairs and then continues hanging up his laundry on the balcony outside his living room. He just barely hears the doorbell go off, and sets down the shirt he’d been about to hang up.

“Hey. Long time, no see,” Jimin smiles as he opens the door. Yoongi is carrying his biking jacket—it’s clearly too hot to wear it now he’s off his bike—and his hair is disheveled yet somehow still looks good. “Good drive down?”

“Yeah, wasn’t bad. Most of the bad traffic was gone by the time I headed out.” Yoongi follows Jimin into the living room, not realizing that Jimin is heading back out to the balcony to finish hanging his clothes up. He catches Jimin around the waist and holds him back. “Where are you running off to?” he asks, faking annoyance.

Jimin laughs as he’s pulled back against the other man’s chest, and twists so they can kiss briefly. “I was hanging up my clothes. I’ll be just a couple minutes.”

“Mm.” Yoongi pulls him tighter and licks into his mouth, hand on the back of his head to hold him in place.

Jimin’s eyes slip shut, and he grips Yoongi’s shirt between his fists. “Yoongi,” he mumbles, protesting.

“Okay, okay.” Yoongi lets go, but follows him out onto the balcony. He whistles lowly at the view. The air has cooled considerably, but it’s still warm enough to warrant a simple t-shirt. As Jimin resumes hanging up the last of his clothing, Yoongi wraps his arms loosely around him from behind, and begins to kiss his neck. It feels absolutely wonderful, and Jimin resists the urge to lean back into him until he hangs the very last shirt up. Then, he leans back, puts his hands over Yoongi’s forearms, and hmms softly.

“I like this,” he says, turning his head slightly to catch Yoongi’s lips with his own.

“Yeah.” They kiss softly like that for several minutes, in no rush. Yoongi’s lips are slow and firm against Jimin’s soft, puffy ones, and each time their tongues touch, Jimin feels like his legs are going to give out. He can’t remember the last time he was affected by someone like this. He encourages Yoongi’s hands to hold him tighter, to push him back against the door. He wants Yoongi’s touches all over his body, just like this.

“Let’s go inside,” he whispers in between kisses.

They move to Jimin’s bedroom and slowly divest each other of their clothing. They don’t bother turning the light on; the curtains are pulled open and revealing the brightly lit coastline with the darkening purple southeastern horizon.

Yoongi fucks him from behind, against the window. The dark expanse of the sea stretches out before them with the twinkle of ships here and there on the horizon. He’s slow but hard, jerking Jimin off at the same time with steady strokes, but every time Jimin feels like he’s close, the biker slows down and sucks at the back of his neck…at the corner of his jaw…nosing against his ear.

Jimin experiences a full-body shudder and lets out a wretched moan when he’s pushed to the very edge again and nearly comes. He pushes back against Yoongi, but the other man pulls out completely and lets go. Jimin turns to watch him, trying to catch his breath, as Yoongi walks over to the bed and sits down. He spreads his legs. His cock is hard and flushed, leaking pre-cum. He gestures for Jimin to come over. Jimin kneels before him and lets Yoongi grab him by the hair.

“Open your throat all the way.” Unlike his grip on Jimin’s hair, Yoongi’s voice is unbearably gentle, and it makes Jimin want to do anything and everything he tells him to do.

Yoongi slides in, first slowly, then faster and rougher, not even letting Jimin do much else other than take it. He feels saliva pooling in his mouth from not being able to swallow, making the slide smoother and deeper. He gags a little, but not enough for it to be a problem. But then he closes his lips around the shaft and swallows, and Yoongi groans loudly. He comes on an outward thrust, spilling into Jimin’s mouth and dribbling a little down his chin.

He immediately grabs Jimin’s chin. “Don’t swallow, babe. Don’t swallow.”

Jimin struggles to fight the urge to swallow, feeling a little like he’s drowning, except he can breathe through his nose just fine, and he lets himself get yanked up onto the bed. Yoongi grabs his phone and holds it in front of Jimin’s face, just a little above him so the camera is looking down on him. He sees the red ‘recording’ light go on.

“Now open your mouth a little, baby. Just a little.” Jimin does as requested, letting his lips pop open, feeling the slow and sticky slide of semen and saliva spilling over his lips. He feels dirty, horribly so, but he doesn’t care because he can’t get enough of the dark look Yoongi is giving him now, staring at him through the screen of his phone. He wonders if Yoongi opens these photos and videos when he’s alone in bed, needing to get off to something. The idea of Yoongi masturbating to him makes Jimin harden even more than he already has been.

“Wider, baby, that’s it.” Jimin feels himself heat up, cheeks probably flushed. He makes a noise through his nose. Yoongi reaches out with his free hand and pries Jimin’s mouth open wider, showcasing the milky substance swirling inside.

“Fuck, Jimin. Baby.” He scoops out some of the cum and spreads it down Jimin’s chest. Jimin’s breathing is labored; he’s aching to be touched.

Hyung-ng,” he murmurs desperately, gurgling a little.

Yoongi immediately seizes the back of his head and pulls him in for a rough kiss. Jimin swallows before it becomes too much of a mess. The phone is forgotten, somewhere on the bed, as Yoongi’s fingers plunge deep into Jimin’s body again, forcing out loud moans and broken cries. He wraps his legs around Yoongi, bucking his hips against his hand, pushing him as deep as he can. But Yoongi takes his other hand and pushes Jimin down against the bed, keeping him from moving, with his fingers motionless inside him.

“Look at me, Jimin.”

He does, breathing shallowly, fighting against the urge to buck his hips. He can feel the pooling tenseness in his groin.

“Don’t move,” Yoongi continues, and then proceeds to slowly push his hand even deeper, his knuckles pressing hard against Jimin’s rim, stretching him unbelievably wide. Jimin has a sudden flashback of pain, even though Yoongi is going slow enough to not hurt him, and he tenses up, squeezing hard against the hand. Yoongi hisses in surprise, swearing loudly. Jimin’s breathing picks up, and he begins to go fuzzy, unable to speak, unable to make any noise at all around the short, shallow breaths of air that tease into his lungs before shooting out again without really giving him any oxygen.

The hand abruptly disappears.

“Jimin? Jimin? Oh, fuck.”

He feels hands slapping at his face; not hard, just enough to make soft patting sounds and jiggle his cheeks a little.

“Jimin. Oh, fuck, fuck fuck. I’m sorry. Come on, snap out of it. Breathe.”

Suddenly there are lips on his mouth in a very unsexual way, his nose is pinched shut, and a rush of air forces itself into his lungs. His vision clears almost instantly, and his eyes widen as he sucks in a deeper lungful of air.

The tears come unbidden, then, and he lets himself be gathered against Yoongi’s chest.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know; I wasn’t thinking,” the other man whispers against his temple. “I’m sorry.”

It takes Jimin a while to calm down, and he wonders morosely if that one night is going to haunt him and ruin sex for him for the rest of his life, the panic hitting him unexpectedly and without warning every time. It makes him angry more than scared. It makes him want to go back and make Sungwoo pay for what he did to him.

“I’m sorry I got fucked up in Seoul,” Jimin mutters, feeling the anger and frustration seep throughout his body. “I’m just a fucking mess. Feel free to back out now before you’re in too deep.” He rolls over on the bed, putting his back to Yoongi. But a warm hand takes hold of his shoulder and rolls him back the other way to face Yoongi.

“You’re not a fucking mess, Jimin. It’s not your fault,” Yoongi scolds him. “Don’t talk like that. You’ll get through this. And I'm not going anywhere.”

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.

Unlike that first Sunday morning over coffee when Jimin didn’t want to get to know Yoongi as they chatted about their jobs and various other droll subjects, this time Jimin listens, and properly participates in their conversations. Now, he does want to get to know Min Yoongi.

Even though it’s Jimin’s city, Yoongi takes Jimin out on his motorcycle. The weather is good, and it’s easier to get around the city without a car. Yoongi pulls an extra helmet out of his storage compartment and hands it to him before pulling on his own. Jimin’s actually never been on a motorcycle or even a scooter before, and so despite being a speed demon himself, he feels a little nervous when they first start out. Driving at high speeds is a bit different when you have seatbelts and a cage around you, versus having nothing but the helmet on your head. Maybe Yoongi feels the way he squeezes him too tightly around the waist when he starts up the engine, because he takes his hand off the handlebar for a moment to pat encouragingly at Jimin’s arms.

“Don’t worry. Just hang on,” Yoongi’s voice comes through the Bluetooth speaker in his helmet.

“I’m not worried,” Jimin retorts, but doesn’t move his hands from Yoongi’s stomach.

Yoongi revs the engine loudly twice, and then kicks off. Jimin gasps a little and tightens his grip reflexively, before forcing himself to loosen his arms and just lean against Yoongi’s back. He finds he really likes the biker’s back. He and Yoongi are basically the same height, but Yoongi’s shoulders are broad, and his arms are strong. When Jimin is in work mode, he wants to be big and in charge, but when he’s with Yoongi, he wants to be small and taken care of; he likes how Yoongi’s arms can wrap around him, likes how he can curl into the other man’s chest.

Jimin rests his head against Yoongi’s shoulder and gazes seaward as they drive along. He can feel himself sinking hard as the minutes go by. Yoongi is making it too easy for him, but Jimin keeps remembering what Taehyung had told him about the biker. He wonders if it’s true, because so far, Yoongi hasn’t given any indication of the sort.

They spend most of the day at Centum City, the big collection of shops, cafes, and other entertainment. It feels a lot like a date; and Jimin supposes that’s what it is, but neither of them really point that out. Jimin prefers to just think of it as ‘hanging out’ so he doesn’t expect so much. They mostly window shop, neither one wanting to carry a bunch of bags around all day. They spend a good couple of hours just in the spa—probably making up for Yoongi’s unspoken jealousy of the afternoon Jimin spent with Jungkook—and are both so soft and sleepy afterward that they have to pick up coffees to sip as they wander.

They decide to hit up a club that night, since it’s been a while since Jimin’s gone out, and he wants to show Yoongi Busan’s nightlife. They don’t bother changing into anything special; it’s not like they’re trying to impress anyone, and they quickly go through a few drinks up at the bar together.

It doesn’t take long for Jimin to lose track of how many drinks he’s had. It doesn’t matter. He feels great; smooth, powerful, sexy. All his problems go away, and he’s just…Jimin. He wanders onto the dance floor as Yoongi gets another drink for himself. The lights flash and flicker, blinding him and teasing him with the darkness. The crowd of people dancing around him feels like he’s in the middle of a stop-action film. Sweat is dripping from his head into his shirt; he knows he has to be glistening just like all of the others around him.

He makes eye contact with another clubber, a man a little taller than him with a lean body like a dancer. He smirks when Jimin flicks his tongue out to wet his lips, biting it a little. They shift closer, and the man puts his hands on Jimin’s hips, pulling him back to grind against his ass with the music. Jimin closes his eyes and then a moment later hears Yoongi’s voice right in front of his face.

“Hey.” His eyes pop open. “Having fun without me?” the biker raises his eyebrows, glancing between Jimin and the other guy.

Jimin grins and giggles slightly, throwing himself forward to wrap his arms around Yoongi’s neck. “Nooo, never,” he insists, planting a wet kiss to Yoongi’s neck.

He quickly forgets about the other clubber, spending the rest of the next several songs hanging onto Yoongi, alternating between dancing erotically against him or just swaying and kissing him deeply. They take a short break, going back for more drinks. Jimin can feel the alcohol really starting to take affect now, but Yoongi’s with him, so he doesn’t care.

The bar is too crowded, so he leans against a pillar while Yoongi gets them drinks. He watches the way the swarm of dancing bodies seems to float in and out of focus, tilting and twisting as if it was a literal ocean of bodies in a storm of flashing neon lights.

“You look lonely,” he hears an unfamiliar voice say, and he tilts his head to glance over at the guy he’d been dancing with earlier. Jimin snorts.

“Nah, I’m good. You sound lonely,” he says boldly. He doesn’t know if he’s mocking the man or just trying to be funny. Either way, it gets him a smile.

“I’m only lonely if you want to do something about it,” the dancer says.

Jimin laughs in his face, but not meanly. This is too funny. He falls to the side a little and has to hold onto the guy’s arm to steady himself. “That’s so cheesy. But—haha, you’ve got a fucking hot body, wow. Nice.” He squeezes the bicep he’s gripping.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Oh, Yoongi’s back.

“Hyung!” Jimin grins, and aims to grab onto Yoongi’s shoulder, but goes right past it. He shrugs and tries again, successfully this time.

“Shit, you’re fucking wasted. I’m not giving this to you, now.”

“What?! Noo, give it to me!” Jimin snatches for the glass, but Yoongi moves it out of his reach.

“Come on, man, he’s an adult; if he wants to drink, let him drink,” the hot dancer guy says. Jimin notices now that he’s got long hair, up in a messy man-bun, and he kind of wants to touch it.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Come on, Yoongi-hyung, give it to me,” he whines.

Yoongi scoffs and hands him the drink. “Fine but don’t—” Jimin tosses the whole thing back with several long swallows, loving the way it burns all the way down. Fucking amazing. “—drink it all at once,” Yoongi trails off in a dead voice.

“Fuck, yeah, that’s the way to do it,” the stranger praises him, and Jimin preens. He laughs and tilts his head at a weird angle to look up at Yoongi from the spot where he’s somehow ended up against his chest.

“See? I know what I’m doing,” he declares, and takes one of Yoongi’s limp arms and wraps it around himself.

“You wanna get fucking lost, loser?” Yoongi’s voice is cold. Jimin knows he’s not talking to him, so he doesn’t worry. “I think it’s pretty obvious that he’s not looking for a hook-up with anyone right now.”

“Yes, I aaaaam,” Jimin sing-songs in protest.

“I meant with someone besides me,” Yoongi says in exasperation.

“Oh, right. Yeah!” Mm. Yoongi smells really good. Really, really good. Jimin kind of wants to taste—

“Don’t lick me—shit, man. I think it’s time to go.” Yoongi doesn’t sound mad, just maybe a little bit annoyed. But that’s sexy. Yoongi is sexy.

“Are you gonna sex me up?” Jimin asks dreamily. He gets a snort in response.

“Did you seriously just say ‘sex’ you up?” Yoongi’s laughing at him as he drags Jimin toward the exit. It’s inconveniently difficult to walk. “God, I can’t believe that came out of your mouth.”

The cool but humid night air feels good on his skin as they exit the club. Yoongi has his motorcycle, but there’s no way Jimin can hold on in the state he’s in—even he knows that—and Yoongi’s also had a bit too much to drink, so Yoongi leads him toward the boardwalk instead. As soon as Jimin realizes where they’re headed, he tries to make Yoongi go faster.

“Jimin—come on, you can’t even walk properly. Stop it.”

“Let’s go to the beach, hyung~” Jimin wants to put his feet in the water. He goes to pull off his shoes, but Yoongi keeps him upright.

“Chill, seriously,” he says. “We’re not here to play in the water, babe.”

Jimin smiles at the name. “Kiss me, hyung,” he demands, stopping and wrapping his arms around his shoulder. Thankfully Yoongi obliges. Jimin can’t really concentrate on the kiss as well as he’d like, but it’s still pretty high up on the list he most certainly doesn’t have ranking the best kisses. “You taste delicious, mmh. Yum.” He goes in for another. All of Yoongi’s kisses are at the top of that non-existent list.

“Fuck.” He can’t get enough, and he grumbles when Yoongi separates them and laughs quietly.

“You’re cute,” is the unexpected comment he receives.

“No; no thank you; I’m not cute, I’m sexy. Sexy and fucking horny right now; god, Yoongi. When can we go home?”

“Soon, soon. I should have got us some water. Is there a vending machine around here?”

“Mmmm dunno. Maybe?”

They walk some more, and find a vending machine, where Yoongi buys a bottle for each of them.

“You know, there was this one time” Jimin starts, leaning up against the side of the vending machine, looking at the way the LED lights illuminate Yoongi’s face, and his hair which is blowing in the sea breeze, “I was having sex with this one guy, and he pulled my hair soooo hard, it hurt like…fuck, it hurt so fucking much, I thought I was going to go bald.” He waits for a ‘hm’ from Yoongi before continuing. “Yeah, yeah, so I thought I was going to go bald, but obviously I didn’t.” He lets Yoongi tilt some water into his mouth. It tastes boring. But he has a little more clarity after, and he thinks maybe he can see the lights reflecting off the water a bit better.

He pushes the water away so he can kiss Yoongi again. It’s a messy, wet kiss, with a couple bumped teeth, but Jimin doesn’t care.   

“Damn,” he breathes against Yoongi’s mouth. “I want to know what it’s like if you make me come again and again and again with no break. Like, really messy, really good. Aah, yeah, that would be perfect.”

“Shit, you really are horny, aren’t you?” Yoongi laughs, hand rubbing circles along Jimin’s side. It’s not fair how sober he sounds. Yoongi pours more water into his mouth.

“Blecht. I wannanother drink, not this,” Jimin mumbles. He smiles at the way Yoongi’s Adam’s apple bobs enticingly as he chugs several swallows of water. “You’re so responsible,” he teases.

“Well, somebody’s got to make sure you don’t end up in the back of a dumpster or at the bottom of the East Sea,” he points out.

“Hey,” Jimin protests, shoving himself away to stumble several steps. “I made it just fine on my own until now.” Even so, he obediently opens his mouth to allow Yoongi to pour more water in.

By the time they get back to Jimin’s place, they are both much soberer, but the alcohol has left them both sleepy, and they just collapse into bed. Jimin doesn’t want to think about the fact that Yoongi has to leave tomorrow.

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.

They meet on the weekends, alternating who has to travel to the other’s respective city. On weekdays and nights, they text and video call. It’s not ideal, but it works. Their time together feels more intense after a week apart, and their goodbye kisses in doorways become longer and longer. Jimin has never thought of himself as being needy, but as the weeks wear on, he can feel himself being stretched thin.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 8: ‘Nature’

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Jimin hops down out of Taehyung’s Range Rover Velar, stopping for a moment as Yoongi shuts the front passenger seat’s door, having claimed shot gun when they were deciding seating arrangements earlier. Immediately, he can tell the air here is different. Fresh, clean. He takes a deep breath, and smiles at Yoongi. On the other side of the car, Jungkook is already helping lift the camping equipment out of the SUV, handing the lighter of the bags to Taehyung. Jimin and Yoongi go back to help them.

There is a crunching sound as Namjoon’s girlfriend May pulls up in her Land Cruiser; Namjoon, Hoseok, Rina, and Jin are all packed in together with her. Jimin’s a little thankful that he’d been in the less crowded vehicle. Although, the Toyota fits eight people, so maybe they aren’t too packed in there.

They lock up and leave the vehicles in the small parking lot with the half-dozen other cars also parked there, and begin the hike to the campsite. It's not a far walk, but they have to be careful of the uneven ground. Jimin isn't the surest on his feet sometimes, but luckily whenever he stumbles, Namjoon gives him a hand, being closest as he follows directly behind Jimin. May seems most excited about getting to the campsite, and jogs past them, her long hair tied back in a braid. Rina and Hoseok are lugging the large cooler between them, grumbling to each other jokingly about what on Earth they packed inside. (Beer, probably.) Yoongi follows behind them, two tents slung over his shoulders. Jungkook is carrying the grill and bag of charcoal briquettes, glancing behind himself every so often to make sure Taehyung and Jin are keeping up as they bring up the rear; the two least enthusiastic about the hike. They pass a medium-sized partially open building where there are relatively clean-looking bathrooms and coin-operated showers, a row of heavily latched garbage and recycling bins, and a large standing map showing the trails and available camping areas in the vicinity. Along the left edge of the map there are multiple illustrated warning signs: no fireworks, no littering, no feeding wild animals.

The campsite is right near a calm, clear river. There are two other small groups nearby; a young couple, and a group of what seems to be middle-aged men on a fly fishing trip. Namjoon goes up them and asks where a good spot to set up is where their big group won't bother them, and is pointed toward a place farther up the river.

 "Jimin."

He turns as Yoongi comes up beside him, still lugging the tents.

"Let's set our tent up before the others steal the good spots," he says in a low voice, and Jimin grins. 

"Good idea."

They scope out a flat, relatively stone-free spot, and lay out their small, three-person tent. It’s a good thing their tents are so small, since they’ve got four to set up in the limited space. Yoongi’s sharing with Jimin; Hoseok with Rina; Namjoon with May; and then Jin, Taehyung, and Jungkook are together in the largest of the tents. They make a joke about how their tent is “Singles Only” and that the others can’t come inside.

“I might climb in with you guys midway through the night if Namjoon starts snoring,” May warns them.

“Hey, I’m not that loud,” Namjoon protests.

“You are when you’re exhausted,” she points out with a raised eyebrow and finger gun aimed at him. “And after carrying all that stuff…”

Jimin helps Yoongi sort out the tent poles. Luckily their tent isn’t too complicated, being so small. But there are still three separate poles to put together and figure out which slot they go into. Jimin hasn’t been camping in a while, but it seems like this is an annual thing with Yoongi’s group of friends, so Yoongi quickly takes over and directs Jimin on what to do. It’s a nice change from usual, getting out of civilization—even if they don’t have wifi out here. The weather is warm—not too humid, but plenty warm enough to take a dip in the river if they want—and is supposed to stay nice all weekend.

“Yaah!” Hoseok’s yell startles Jimin and Yoongi as they’re setting up their combined sleeping bags inside the tent.

It turns out to be an insect.

“A fucking centipede is in our tent! Get it out!!”

Rina is laughing at him as she takes one of the plastic cups from their “kitchen bag”, scoops it up, and hurls it far off into the woods.

“You’re such a baby sometimes,” she shakes her head fondly, messing up his hair and then giving him a good whack on the back of his head.

Once everyone’s tents are set up, they split off into smaller groups to do what they want. Jimin joins Jungkook and Hoseok for a hike while Rina, May, and Taehyung go swimming. Namjoon goes over to chat with the fly fishermen, leaving Yoongi and Jin to—well, honestly Jimin isn’t sure what they’re planning to do, but it looks like they’re organizing all of the food and getting the fire pit set up for the evening.

Jungkook has a giant, fancy-looking camera with him, taking photos and recording everything while Hoseok and Jimin just enjoy the hike and try to avoid the tiny gnats flying around their faces. By the time they get back, Jimin is sweating and looking forward to a swim.

The girls and Taehyung are out of the water, sunbathing and reading a book in the shade, respectively. Meanwhile Jin, Namjoon, and Yoongi are splashing around and yelling to each other. The guys haven’t noticed the hikers’ return yet, so Jimin holds his finger up to his mouth at the girls and slips into the water, ducking under and grabbing Yoongi by the waist just as he pops back up from the water.

He gets the reaction he’s hoping for; Yoongi yells, and swallows a bunch of river water as he goes under, flailing. When he resurfaces, he pushes a big wave of water over Jimin. They play fight for several minutes before getting too tired, and Yoongi pulls Jimin in for a kiss. They both splutter as a huge amount of water is splashed over them; Jungkook has also entered the river and clearly has no interest in watching them make out in public. Just for that, Jimin makes sure the youngest is watching as he grabs Yoongi’s face and kisses him with as much tongue showing as possible. Yoongi knows it’s for show, and can’t stop laughing, pinching Jimin in the side under the water.

That night, after everyone is nice and buzzed and sunburnt, Jimin slides into the sleeping bag with Yoongi, both of them wearing t-shirts and boxers. It’s strange wearing clothing while sleeping with Yoongi; it’s also strange not being able to be as intimate as Jimin wants to be. Jimin lies half on top of Yoongi, quietly kissing him in the darkness, listening to the muffled whispers of their friends in the other tents nearby. Jimin licks into Yoongi’s mouth, pulling at his lips slowly and somewhat tipsily. He can’t help the soft giggle when the other man rolls over and takes control of the kiss.

Shh,” Yoongi urges, squeezing his sides.

Hyung,” Jimin breathes as quietly as he can. “Hyung please.” He wants Yoongi to touch him, to be rough with him. He opens his mouth wider and encourages him to increase the depth of his kissing. He takes one of Yoongi’s hands and slides it down his body, toward the waistband of his boxers.

Yoongi breaks the kiss.

“Jimin, you know we can’t. They’ll hear.”

Jimin tries to beg him with his eyes, putting on his best bedroom eyes, the ‘fuck me please’ ones that Yoongi can never resist.

He dips down and pecks Jimin on the lips chastely. “Baby, you know you can’t keep quiet.”

“Please. I’ll try. I’ll muffle myself.”

Yoongi’s silent for a moment, just looking down at him. “You think you can keep quiet if I blow you? I know you definitely can’t if I fuck you, but you’re better at controlling yourself when it’s just—”

Jimin already feels the heat surge down his body at the thought. “Yes. Yes, Yoongi, I can.”

Yoongi leans in very close. “Promise? I don’t want my friends to abandon me because they’re disgusted I couldn’t control myself for a single weekend.”

Jimin smirks. “Are you saying it’s my fault you can’t control yourself?”

“Fuck you; I can control myself just fine. You’re the one begging me right now.”

“And you just can’t resist my allure,” Jimin teases.

“You fucking—you’d better stay fucking silent, or I’m stopping, and I don’t care if you’re about to come and are in tears.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.” Yoongi scoots down and yanks Jimin’s boxers down just enough to free his semi-hard dick. He spits into his palm and rubs it over the length to bring him to full hardness before taking him in his mouth.

He’s very gentle and slow, pausing every time Jimin feels like he’s about to make a sound, and he manages to stay relatively silent other than his heavy panting. He isn’t able to hide the soft whimper he makes as he comes and Yoongi swallows him down.

“Good?” the other man whispers as he fixes Jimin’s clothes and then slides back up to kiss the corner of his mouth. Jimin just hums at him and nods, feeling soft and sleepy. Yoongi chuckles. “You’re so fucking sexy post orgasm. Mm, I’m gonna fucking wreck you when we get back to Busan on Sunday.”

Jimin turns and wraps his arms around him, pressing close as he drifts into sleep.

.

.

.

By the afternoon of the next day, everyone is looking a lot more sun-kissed, especially the girls, as well as Jungkook and Jimin, who don’t mind getting tan. Jimin spends more time swimming, and then lying down with his head in Yoongi’s lap as they both read books they’d brought along. Midday, Jimin finally convinces Yoongi to go on a short hike with him, just the two of them, and they end up making out on a small lookout clearing far out of earshot of the campground. Jimin offers to suck him off, but Yoongi’s response is, “I don’t want bug bites on my dick,” so they settle for heavy tongue action and neck sucking.

That evening, the fly-fishers leave, so their group doesn’t worry about being rowdy. Jimin doesn’t remember whose idea it was, but at some point during their gradual decent into drunkenness, they play a game a lot like Marco Polo; one person wears Taehyung’s sleeping mask and has to find their opposite target. They break into two teams and take turns picking a searcher and target. The target’s team do their best to keep the blindfolded searcher from finding the target, and the searcher’s team try to give away the location of the target. Everyone is mobile, and the target has to avoid the searcher without going out of bounds.

It’s really a miracle no one gets hurt, even though they purposely set up the game away from the fire and the tents.

Jimin’s team members are Jin, Jungkook, and May, while Yoongi, Hoseok, Rina and Taehyung make up the other team. Namjoon sits out the game and moderates (but not really) because the others say he’ll end up breaking a tent or setting something on fire if he participates.

On their third round, Jimin is picked as the blindfolded searcher. His target: Yoongi.

Jimin holds his hands out, blindly trying to find Yoongi amongst all of the whooping and laughing. He knows Yoongi is purposely being quiet, and the others keep grabbing his shoulders and turning him around so that he loses his sense of direction. Namjoon whoops to his left unhelpfully, and he thinks he hears Yoongi laugh somewhere behind him, so he spins in that direction.

“Nope!” Rina exclaims, shoving him hard out of nowhere and nearly knocks him off his feet. Jimin has several drinks in his system, and he bumps into someone, grabbing their arm just in case it turns out to be Yoongi. It’s not.

“He’s over there!” Jin tells him around a squeaking laugh, pushing him gently to his left.

“No, I’m not!” Yoongi calls out suddenly, and Jimin whips toward his voice, but knows that the biker has already moved from where he’d shouted.

“Fucking damn it, stop moving,” Jimin retorts, cracking up as he stretches out his hands.

He feels a leg in front of his shin, and just before he almost trips, May snaps sharply, “Hey! No tripping! Foul! Namjoon, do your job!”

“Sorry, sorry!” Namjoon immediately apologizes, but doesn’t sound too sorry as he laughs.

Jimin gets turned around several more times before a pair of hands wrap around his neck from behind, keeping him from going forward. They’re only tight for a second before they loosen and jokingly shake him, wrapped completely around the circumference of his neck.

“Not so fast!” Hoseok cackles from right behind him, still holding on. His fingers press in, at just the right angle, and Jimin freezes.

When he takes a sharp, gasping breath, reaching up automatically to seize the hands in a death grip, Yoongi swears loudly from a meter or two away.

“Shit! Don’t fucking choke him! Let go!”

Yoongi is in front of him in an instant, pulling off the eye mask as he shoves Hoseok away. “Jimin, are you okay?”

“I didn’t even do anything,” Hoseok protests, sounding offended.

Yoongi ignores him. “Jimin.”

Jimin’s fighting the tunnel vision that has come over him; he tries to latch onto Yoongi’s voice, but there are too many others around, clamoring and confusing him.

“Shit, he’s going down, what the hell?”

“Careful!”

“He’s having a panic attack, goddamn it, give him space,” Yoongi snaps. “Don’t ever touch him like that again.”

Jimin feels soft fingers on his cheeks, in his hair.

“Come on, Jimin. You’re okay. It’s okay. Hoseok was just being a dick. He didn’t mean it.”

“Yoongi.” Jimin is starting to be able to focus on things now. It’s hard, because the campfire has died down a little and it’s dark.

“Yes. I’m right here, Jimin-ah.”

“Yoongi,” he says again, reaching out. His heart is beating too hard in his chest, and it feels like something is stuck in his chest, not unlike the uncomfortable feeling of heartburn or indigestion.

His stomach abruptly rises, burning in his throat.

“I need to throw up,” Jimin suddenly blurts, stumbling to his feet—when did he end up on the ground?—and grabs Yoongi’s arm as he tries to pull away. Yoongi immediately switches from being pulled to helping drag Jimin away from the campsite, toward the woods. They only make it a couple meters before Jimin falls down and loses his stomach full of beer and barbeque. It hurts coming up, and he’s glad that he can’t see it in the darkness. He’s also glad no one can see the tears on his cheeks.

“Here,” May says, coming up to them. “Drink some water, Jimin. And breathe. Slowly.”

He takes the bottle with a shaking hand, and swishes the water harshly around his mouth, spitting it out on the ground before taking another mouthful and swallowing. May puts a careful hand on his shoulder, rubbing gently.

“You’ll be okay,” she says calmly, and even though Jimin doesn’t feel as close with her as he does to Yoongi—or the others, really—he does feel a little better.

“And here I was, thinking you were only pretending to be a nurse to impress us,” Yoongi jokes.

“Shut it, Yoongi-oppa. Ignore him, Jimin-ah; he’s an idiot.”

Jimin can’t help the small smile that curves his lips as he leans against Yoongi’s sturdy form. May fans his face a little, and he closes his eyes, sighing as his heartrate returns closer to normal.

“Do you guys want to go to the bathrooms and get washed up?” May suggests. “I know I’m probably going to turn in for the night pretty soon anyway, and Namjoon’s getting dragged along whether he’s tired or not. I don’t think the guys are going to stay out for much longer.”

Jimin feels Yoongi nod above him. “Yeah, good idea. We’ve got to pack up and leave pretty early in the morning anyway.”

The old, flickering florescent light in the campsite bathroom hums annoyingly, attracting at least a dozen moths, tiny and large. They flutter overhead as Jimin splashes his face with cold water and then brushes his teeth, moving aside so Yoongi can do the same. He is silent as he listens to the cicadas singing in the trees all around the open building.

“Do you want to shower now, or in the morning?” Yoongi asks around a mouthful of toothpaste.

Jimin leans over the sink and spits. “Morning. I just want to curl up and sleep now,” he sighs. He feels exhausted. Unfortunately, he’s learning that sudden attacks like this take a lot out of him, and he doesn’t want to do anything afterward but press as close as he can to Yoongi. He waits for Yoongi to also spit and wipe off his mouth before turning his head so he can kiss him.

“Thank you,” Jimin whispers against his lips.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Thank you for not telling the others why I was freaking out,” Jimin elaborates.

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s not my story to tell. If you want to tell people, that’s your choice.”

Jimin smiles and pulls him in for another kiss. “Mm. You know I really love you, right?” He feels Yoongi smile against his lips. The older man kisses him back a little harder, before pulling back with a somewhat loud pop.

“I know.” He kisses the back corner of Jimin’s jaw and then his hot breath is in Jimin’s ear. “Love you, too,” he whispers.

Jimin can feel himself warming up all over, and he wraps his arms tightly around Yoongi’s waist as he rests his chin against the other man’s shoulder. They stand like that for a few minutes before reluctantly drawing apart and mutually deciding to head back to the campsite.

The others have quieted down by the time they return, and they give general affirmative answers when asked how Jimin’s doing.

As they settle into their sleeping bag a little later, they kiss softly, tonguelessly; just quiet, wet sounds in the darkness until they fall asleep in each other’s arms.

.

.

.

The ride back to Busan on the KTX feels like it takes forever, but eventually they are back in Heundae, lugging their bags into the elevator of Jimin’s apartment building. Yoongi steals a quick kiss, but Jimin shoves him away.

“The security office will see,” he protests.

“Whatever,” is the response he gets.

They drop their bags on the living room floor as soon as they enter the apartment, and barely make it to the bedroom. Jimin’s thankful the campsite had showers, because he really doesn’t want to deal with a shower right now. He just wants Yoongi. They haven’t been able to be intimate with each other in the way he wanted all weekend, and he craves the other’s body now.

Yoongi shoves him hard onto the bed, climbing on top of him. They both still have their clothes on, although Jimin is trying to get his off. He’s not being very successful. Yoongi is breathing heavily through his nose as he devours Jimin’s mouth so thoroughly that Jimin wonders if he could come from that alone. He doesn’t want to find out.

He gets a chance to free himself from his shirt when Yoongi bends down to suck at his stomach, licking and pulling at the skin hard enough to leave marks.

Hyung,” Jimin moans, burying his hands in his hair.

Yoongi pauses, and pulls away to look up at him. He has a strange expression on his face. The only word Jimin can come up with to describe it would be ‘troublemaker.’

“If you could just stay quiet during sex, we could have fucked in the tent. You should practice. Let’s see how long you can manage without making a sound,” he says, smirking as he palms Jimin’s crotch.

“What?” Jimin isn’t sure he knows what’s happening.

“I want to know how long you can last without making any noise,” he says again. “No moans, no whimpers, no nothing.” He pauses. “Wanna see?”

Jimin bites his lip and swallows before nodding. “Okay.”

Yoongi grins. “Okay,” he echoes.

Jimin wonders if he can do this. It’s not a secret how vocal he is during sex. But the idea of trying to stay quiet thrills him, because he’s going to have to stay very aware throughout everything; he can’t just let the sensations flow over him.

It’s easy at first, as they make out, but as their clothes disappear piece by piece, and Yoongi’s touches get more calculated and thorough, Jimin can feel the strain to keep quiet. When the other man pushes into him, Jimin nearly bites the inside of his cheek. He clenches his hands against the sheets, breathing harshly. He has to yank Yoongi down to kiss him, licking deep into his mouth and sucking on his tongue. But then Yoongi begins to pull out and push back in, and Jimin has to break the kiss. 

He screws his eyes shut, pinching his lips together, as he breathes heavily through his nose. But he can feel a whimper start to slip through, and he quickly sucks in a breath of air to head it off.

“Open your eyes, Jimin,” Yoongi whispers directly in his ear as he thrusts in hard and slow.

Jimin forces his eyes open wide. His mouth falls open as he tries to pull in more air. Yoongi is fucking right up against his prostate with every push, and it takes all of Jimin’s control to not make a sound. His hands scrabble on the sheets for something to hold onto. Yoongi abruptly changes the angle, and Jimin arches into it. He can feel a cry make its way up his throat, and he slaps his hand against his mouth and nose, muffling the sound.

“No cheating,” Yoongi scolds with a laugh, pulling the hand away. Jimin grimaces, as if he is in pain; maybe he is. He can barely think.

“Don’t forget to breathe. You’re not breathing, baby,” Yoongi hisses as he shoves in particularly deep.

A loud gasp of air shoots into his lungs, and Jimin’s eyes widen. He can’t. He can’t do it anymore. He puts both hands to his head, gripping his hair as his body rocks rapidly up and down on the bed.

He isn’t going to make it.

“Come on, Jiminie. Come on, just a little bit more, you can do i—”

Aaahghh!!” The sound bursts loudly from his throat, Jimin unable to hold it in anymore. “Y-Yoo-Yoongi, oh, g-god,” he grasps onto Yoongi shoulders, voice raspy and broken, “I can’t—I can’t, puh-please,” he urges Yoongi on, and isn’t disappointed; the other man picks up the pace, pistoning into him so hard that the bed rocks a little against the wall.

It takes another minute until he feels the gush of hot semen fill his insides, and another still before he himself comes, clenching tightly around Yoongi and whimpering loudly at the almost instant sensitivity that hits him.

They both stop moving, panting heavily, just staring at one another. Then Yoongi smirks.

“You lost.” He shifts his hips, pulling out partway before pushing right back in. He isn’t completely soft yet, and Jimin’s mouth moves wordlessly for a few seconds before a long, nearly pained moan spills out.

“Y-you fucker,” he barely manages to spit out. “You can’t fuck me like that if you’re actually trying to keep me quiet.” His entire body feels like he’s connected to a current of electricity, and he needs to be grounded before it overwhelms him. He yanks Yoongi down and then uses the last of his strength to flip their positions. Then he collapses on top of the biker as he presses their mouths together. He continues to gyrate his hips with Yoongi still inside, forcing the both of them to have sudden shocks of oversensitivity that make them each moan into the kiss. Yoongi grips the sides of his hips tightly, and Jimin has both of his hands buried into Yoongi’s messy hair as they kiss needily.

Jimin pulls away and sits back, panting slightly. He leans back against Yoongi’s thighs, still moving his hips with the other man inside him. He is beyond any point of speaking properly; the sensations are too overwhelming, too amazing. He can feel Yoongi already hardening inside him, and he gasps when a hand wraps around his own hardening cock, thumb dragging along the underside, pressing into the slit.

Fuck. Yoongi,” he moans. The hand tightens around his cock, twisting and squeezing out bits of precum. Yoongi bucks his hips, forcing a high gasp from his throat. He begins to pump Jimin more directly, squeezing hard and then gently, rubbing the slick skin in such a way that Jimin can barely even focus on the ceiling lamp above his head.

His heart jumps into his throat when the doorbell rings, and he falls backwards through Yoongi’s legs onto the mattress, disconnecting them abruptly. He dimly registers the feeling of sticky liquid dripping out of him onto the bed.

“What the fuck?” he exclaims, all of his energy instantly turning into anger at the interruption. “Who—?” He can’t remember if he’d been expecting anyone; deliveries, or otherwise. What with the spontaneous camping trip, it’s entirely possible that he could have forgotten something. The doorbell rings again, and he forces himself to sit up. He can feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins; he’s still extremely hard, and dripping in sweat.

They stumble off of the bed, Yoongi helping Jimin stand when his legs buckle. He almost forgets about the doorbell for a second when he decides he really wants to kiss the older man, and moans loudly against his tongue, pressing his crotch hard against Yoongi's thigh. The doorbell goes off again.

He moves into the other room and checks the video monitor without turning on the audio, and his eyes widen.

Fuck, it’s my father. Shit.” He whirls around and gestures wildly at Yoongi. “You’ve got to—you’ve got to, I dunno, hide or something.” He is vaguely aware of his phone buzzing, starting to spin in a circle on the counter as it rings silently.

“What? You can’t be serious?” Yoongi scoffs at him, even as he hurries to find his clothes and yank them on. “Why can’t you just pretend to not be home?”

“Because!” Jimin isn’t thinking; he can’t think. All he knows is he needs to—

“Might want to put some clothes on before you open the door,” Yoongi snorts, and throws his clothing at him. “It’s not going to hide the smell of sex all over you, though.” He leans up close. “You reek.” He smirks and kisses him wetly on the corner of his jaw, using more tongue than lips, almost as if he’s licking Jimin instead of kissing him. “Why don’t you just pretend you’re in the shower and can’t open the door?”

“Fuckin—ugh.” Jimin gestures wildly at him in frustration and only gets a snort in response. Then he clicks on the call back button.

“Abeoji? Sorry, can you just wait a few minutes? I was in the shower. I’ve gotta get dressed.”

“Oh, all right, Jimin-ah. I guess I’ll wait out here? How long will—”

“Just a few minutes, I promise. Just hang on, okay?” He waits just long enough to get an affirmative answer before shutting off the intercom and sprinting to the bathroom. He switches on the shower and shucks off the one article of clothing he’d managed to put on before stepping into the not-quite-warm-enough spray of water. He quickly rubs some body wash over himself and gets his hair good and wet before turning off the shower and seizing a towel. He’s never bathed so quickly in his entire life—although technically he knows he isn’t actually clean. Barely five minutes have passed before he is back in front of the door, fully dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a t-shirt…with Yoongi just chilling on his bed in his closed bedroom. (Jimin has threatened him with bodily dismemberment if he so much as makes the bed creak while his father is in the apartment.)

“Sorry, Abeoji,” he says as he lets his father into the apartment. “Did you say you were coming over?”

“No, but I—are you going somewhere?” his father stops when he sees the camping bags and equipment on the floor in the living room.

“No, I just got back from a camping trip with friends, actually. Haven’t had a chance to unpack yet.”

"Oh? Camping trip? You haven't done that in a while." 

"Yeah, I know. But I recently made some friends in Daegu, and we decided to go away for the weekend. It was real fun." 

"That's great, Jimin-ah. I'm glad to hear it. I worry sometimes," his father begins, and Jimin hurriedly tries to change the subject in case Yoongi is listening from the other room. Yoongi doesn’t need to know about his lack of proper friends.

"Did you need something, Abeoji? Why are you all the way down here?"

"Oh, I was just down for the day. Went out fishing with some old pals early this morning, and figured I would stop by, see how you were doing. You're not busy, are you? Do you want to go out for a late lunch? You haven’t eaten yet, have you?"

Jimin wonders how he's going to get out of this situation. He has no problem with spending time with his father, but he has to get Yoongi out of the apartment.

“No…I’m not busy, and I haven’t eaten yet, Abeoji,” he begins, thinking quickly. His eyes land on the pile of bags. “I just need to unpack and put away my camping stuff first. You can watch TV while you wait.” He grabs the remote and flicks on the news—pretty much the only thing his father will pay attention to—and then grabs both his and Yoongi’s bags of clothing, taking it into his bedroom.

Yoongi is exactly where he’d left him on the bed, scrolling through his phone.

“I’m going out to lunch with my father,” Jimin whispers, voice apologetic. “I’ll text you once it’s safe, then you can head out. The door locks automatically.”

Yoongi pouts. “And here I was, thinking I’d get to fuck you all day,” he jokes. Jimin mimes slapping him, and only doesn’t do it because it would only make noise.

“All right, I’m not coming back in here after this.” He leans down to kiss him quickly. “I’ll see you next weekend.”

When Jimin goes back out into the living room to grab the sleeping bags, his father looks up from the TV where the newscasters finish talking about a slew of recent break-ins around the city, before going on to discuss the mayor’s speech at a conference.

“Why do you have two sleeping bags?” his father asks curiously.

“One of my friends didn’t have one, so I let him borrow mine,” Jimin lies easily. The sleeping bag actually belongs to Yoongi, but he doesn’t need to know that. He brings the sleeping bags into the spare room, figuring that he can bring it up to Daegu next time he’s there.

As Jimin and his father head downstairs, he asks, “How did you get into the building, anyway, Abeoji? Did the security guard recognize you?” The apartment lobby doors are locked twenty-four-seven, with only the tenants’ building key able to get them through. It’s an extra precaution even though all of the apartments have key pads to get into them.

“No, not the security guard,” he shakes his head. “The sweet halmeoni who lives on the…second floor, was it?…let me in when she was leaving. Had a nice chat with her. Seems she’s doing well.”

“Ah, that’s good,” Jimin says, only partially paying attention as he quickly sends a text to Yoongi letting him know the coast is probably clear now.

“Yeah. I was worried about her last month when you mentioned she was under the weather.”

.

.

.

It’s midweek, two weeks after the camping trip. Jimin pushes a slicked-up dildo into himself slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as he lies back on his bed. It’s been a while since he’s done this; with all the sex he’s been having with Yoongi, he hasn’t really needed to. Right now, though, he just…really needs to be filled. But it’s a weeknight, and Yoongi is far away in Daegu.

He sucks in a breath, swallowing a mouthful of saliva. Oh, how he wishes there were hands on him right now, holding him down. He wants Yoongi so badly. He shoves the dildo in harder, and gasps.

It’s not enough. Not really thinking, he feels for his phone, somewhere on his bedside table. He finds it, fumbling around, and drops it on the floor in his haste to grab it. He grimaces, right hand pumping the toy in and out, left hand hanging over the side of the bed. He takes a deep breath and forces himself to stop. He doesn’t pull out the toy as he crawls over to the edge of the bed and reaches down to pick up the phone. He’s halfway hanging over the edge, ass in the air, and he can’t think. He quickly pulls up Yoongi’s number and presses ‘video call.’ He doesn’t just need to hear him; he needs to see his face.

As the phone rings, he reaches back down to resume pumping the dildo into himself, and he drops the phone again, this time luckily on the mattress. He doesn’t notice when the ringing stops.

Jimin?”

Oh. Ohh. Yoongi sounds so good.

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, pulling the toy out all the way before slamming it back in. He tries to pick up the phone with his other hand, but it’s difficult. “Yoongi, I need you. I need you. Please.”

Oh fuck,” he hears the way Yoongi’s voice abruptly darkens and grows deeper. “Are you—? Oh my god, you—Jimin. Baby. Oh god, just…hang on, I’m almost to my apartment. I’ve gotta mute you for a second.

Jimin groans loudly and clenches his hand against the sheets in frustration. He knows Yoongi can’t hear him, but the video is still connected, and he tries to pull his bearings together enough for him to angle the phone so he can see Yoongi’s face. The other man is holding the phone close to himself, eyes flicking between the screen and wherever he’s walking. The sound comes back when there’s a distant ding; he’s in an elevator.

I’m almost there, baby. Just—oh fuck, you’re so ready for me, aren’t you.” Yoongi’s voice is slightly breathless, and he swears again when Jimin rolls over onto his back, arching his hips and twisting the toy inside him. He moves the phone down his body to give Yoongi a better look, but accidentally drops the phone again. He can’t pick it up immediately, overcome by sensation as he presses into his prostate, and yells out. He hears a muffled, “Jimin,” through the phone face-down on the bed.

He seizes the phone and brings it to his face. “Yoongi.”

Oh, baby, don’t cry,” he hears; he hadn’t realized there were tears running down his face. He hears a door slam, and then he finally has all of Yoongi’s attention.

It’s not enough; it’s nothing like what he really needs, but the video call helps a little bit with the ache he feels by Yoongi’s absence. He turns the volume up so he can hear every sound his lover makes through the other side as he simultaneously pleasures himself, as he lets Yoongi tell him what to do to his own body. When he climaxes, there’s an empty feeling in his chest, and he quickly hangs up the call as he breaks down. He can’t do this. It’s too hard. He doesn’t understand how people can do long distance.

He takes an ice-cold shower and quickly puts on some light clothes before slipping sockless into his sneakers to take a walk. He doesn’t take his phone. Just his keys, and a few thousand won so he can buy himself a drink along the way.

He walks down the steps to the sand, beer in hand, and stops at the last one, just staring out over the dark beach, toward the black water. He glances down at his feet and then carefully slips off his shoes, leaving them on the cement. Then he steps down onto the sand that is still slightly warm from the heat of the day. He takes a long gulp of beer and then begins walking. He wants to feel the water on his feet.

The yellowy lights from the path along the steps reach all the way to the edge of the water before fading, so he can see the white crests of the waves as they break upon the shore. His thin white shirt flaps in the wind. He stops about three or four meters away from the edge and closes his eyes for a moment, just listening to the ebb and flow of the water. A calming shudder runs from his head to the soles of his feet, sinking into the sand that filters between his toes.

When the water rushes up along the sand and wraps around his ankles, he sucks in his breath before forcing it out again in a long, shaky stream of air. It’s not too cold, but then again the water isn’t exactly warm, either. He feels it pull the heat from his body, and the sand from below his feet as it slips back down the beach.

He can’t help but wish that there was a pair of arms around him right now, holding him tight, standing with him in the water. But that pair of arms is far away and unavailable when he needs it most.

The next weekend, they can’t meet, because something comes up on Yoongi’s schedule. He doesn’t say what; just that he can’t make it to Busan like they’d planned. They talk briefly in the evening over the phone, but that’s it. The following weekend, Jimin has to deal with an emergency at work, and barely has time to send Yoongi a last-minute text letting him know he can’t go to Daegu because he’s stuck in the office and dealing with a crisis. When Yoongi shows up in Busan the following Friday, they don’t even make it to Jimin’s bed before they are all over each other. Yoongi lifts Jimin up onto the dining table and fucks him right there, knocking the pile of papers littering it to the floor.

Jimin isn’t sure what is happening; maybe they are just both too busy, but even their texting and calling begins to decrease. It’s not for any lack of want on Jimin’s part, at least, but he often finds himself too tired to call at night, or he forgets to reply to texts he reads during the day when he can’t respond. He feels like he’s in a constant state of stress, uptight, and seems to always be losing his temper at work.

.

.

. 

On a Thursday, Jimin runs into Jungkook. Jimin breaks down and confesses his pain to the younger biker as they share a bowl of patbingsu after eating dinner together.

“Why don’t you just drive up there to see him, then?” Jungkook asks, pulling out all of the mango he’s ordered without realizing Jimin doesn’t like mango.

“I can’t just drive up every night, Kook-ah,” he says.

“Right; I get that. But you’re clearly stressed out about it. You should go.”

Jimin pushes around a spoonful of shaved ice and red bean. “I don’t know. It’s just—”

“Look,” Jungkook interrupts sternly. “Why don’t I take you tonight. I’ll drop you off at his place, I’ll hang out with my Daegu friends for the night, and then we can come back tomorrow in time for you to get to work.” When Jimin doesn’t say anything, he puts a hand on his forearm to gain his attention. “How about it? I know it’ll easy your worries.”

So they take a spontaneous drive up to Daegu as soon as they finish eating. Not bringing anything other than themselves. Jungkook lends him his bike jacket for the ride because all Jimin has is his t-shirt, whereas Jungkook has a hoodie, and is less susceptible to the cold than Jimin is.

The closer they get to Daegu, the lighter Jimin’s heart feels. He can’t wait to see Yoongi, to hold him, to hear his voice. When they finally get to his apartment, Jimin jumps off of the bike and runs up the stairs—forgoing the elevator—to bang on the door. There’s no answer, so he tries again, thinking maybe Yoongi’s just in the bathroom or didn’t hear. But no, there’s nothing.

“Maybe he’s not home?” Jungkook says as he reaches the landing. “Wait. What’s that?”

Jimin looks in the direction of Jungkook’s outstretched finger, and notices a paper attached to the wall beside the door.

‘Apartment for rent. Immediate move-in available,’ it says.

“What the fuck?” Jimin can’t believe his eyes.

“Try calling him. Have you tried calling him?”

Frowning, Jimin pulls out his phone and presses Yoongi’s name. It goes to voicemail. He tries again with the same result before looking back at Jungkook, stomach sinking.

“He’s not answering.”

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Chapter Text

Chapter 9: ‘Knife’

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It’s already late, and Jungkook clearly looks tired, but he drives Jimin back to Heundae. Jimin is quiet when they arrive at his apartment. They stare dully at each other—Jimin because he has no idea what to think, and Jungkook because he’s exhausted—before Jimin sighs.

“Do you want to just stay the night, Kook? I don’t want you to get into an accident on the way home. My sofa’s pretty comfortable.”

Jungkook agrees that it will probably be a better idea, and they head upstairs through the lobby.

“Look, I’m sure…” Jungkook trails off, uncertain, before trying again. “There’s got to be a good explanation, Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin just shrugs. He should have known it wouldn’t work out. The word ‘love’ is so easy to just throw around these days; there is no reason why Yoongi had even meant it, and he hasn’t said it since. Neither has Jimin, to come to think of it. He knows there’s a connection between them besides the fucking, but the both of them still seem to have little control when it comes to each other’s bodies. Jimin just can’t help it, though; the way Yoongi makes him feel is incredible, and addicting to the point of constantly wanting Yoongi’s hands on him—or in him.

But that must be all it is to the other man.

“We can try again in the morning to get a hold of him, okay?” Jungkook says, putting a hand on his shoulder. The biker is younger than him, but so much taller, and he makes Jimin feel small. He wants to cry, but he doesn’t want to do it in front of Jungkook.

“I’m going to bed,” he says instead. “There’s an extra pillow and some blankets in the hall closet. Help yourself.”

Then he turns and goes to his bedroom, where he simply strips down to his boxers and climbs into bed without doing anything else. He doesn’t cry, though he still wants to. He just can’t believe it. He tries to think back and pick out any clues. All he can remember are the times when they didn’t meet, or didn’t reply to each other, or didn’t call at night.

He also knows that he could be jumping to conclusions, and tries to think of reasons why Yoongi would move apartments without telling him. Maybe he had a water leak, or an infestation. But no; the sign had said immediate move-in. So there is nothing wrong with the apartment. And the fact that Yoongi isn't answering his phone...well, technically it’s just going straight to voicemail. Maybe his battery is dead. Or maybe he has it turned off. Maybe he lost it. There are so many reasons to explain it, but none of them ease Jimin's worry. 

He doesn't sleep. In the morning, he gets up before his alarm goes off, stands in the bathroom with the shower running at its highest temperature, water pounding against the tub, and steam filling up the bathroom. Jimin stares at his reflection in his hydrophilic mirror, sees all of the disgusting things about himself, and doesn't blame Yoongi for running. 

He takes a deep breath of the heavily hydrated air, and wishes that he could suffocate from the steam. It is a little hard to breathe, and he can feel his chest clench with the beginning of anxiety. He reaches into the shower and switches the water back down to the usual forty-one degrees. He waits a moment before stepping inside.

Jungkook is still asleep when Jimin walks into the living room a while later. It’s not really a surprise; the biker is still a college student, a kid who values his sleep, and it doesn’t look like he’s set an alarm. He’s curled up on the sofa like a child, using his elbow as a pillow despite having a perfectly good one pushed up onto the sofa’s armrest like he’s shoved it aside in his sleep. Jimin leaves him be and goes into the kitchen to put on some coffee. He knows the hissing and gurgling of the machine will probably wake him, but there’s no helping it since Jimin has to go to work soon enough anyway.

He’s in the middle of pouring milk into a bowl of cereal when Jungkook abruptly yawns noisily from just over Jimin’s shoulder, startling him. Luckily he only spills a little milk on the counter.

“Morning,” Jimin greets him as he uses the kitchen sink sponge to wipe up the spill before topping off the milk.

“You should skip work today. Go to the beach with me,” Jungkook says.

Jimin turns and raises an eyebrow. “I can’t just skip work, Kook. This isn’t a university class. And it’s not the end of the world. There’s no point in wallowing.”

“What time do you get off work?”

“Yoongi-hyung’s supposed to…” he trails off.

This weekend is supposed to be a Busan weekend. Normally Yoongi shows up later in the evening on Fridays. But now Jimin’s not sure what to expect. He hasn’t tried texting the other man.

“Well, if you want to hang out after work, just shoot me a text,” Jungkook says.

They go down to the lobby together when Jimin has to head off to work. While Jungkook continues on ahead of him, Jimin stops by the mailroom since he’d forgotten the day before. There’s a man in the small room already, looking through multiple envelopes in his hand, and he glances up as Jimin enters. He’s tall and slender, maybe in his thirties. Jimin’s never seen him before. New tenant, maybe. They briefly make eye contact over the man’s face mask, acknowledging each other, before Jimin turns his attention to his own box. He only has a few bills and a notice warning residents about street work not far from the building. He tosses the notice into the bin of other similarly discarded mail and sticks the bills into his bag. He nods at the man, who sneezes abruptly, eyes squeezing shut before he groans in annoyance. Jimin feels mild sympathy; although he doesn’t have allergies, he knows plenty of others who do suffer from them.

He leaves before his fellow tenant is done sorting through his mail.

When Jimin gets outside, he hears Jungkook’s raised voice coming from the guest parking section of the garage. He’s shouting, pausing randomly before starting up again. He must be on the phone. Jimin quickly glances at his own phone; he has a little bit of time to spare before he absolutely needs to leave, so he rushes over to see what’s the matter. Jungkook sounds angry, and although Jimin can’t make out all of the words, he hears enough to have a feeling about who Jungkook is talking to on the phone.

When he comes into sight, Jungkook has his back to Jimin, and all he hears is, “Well, you need to fucking tell him that!” Abruptly he goes silent, and takes the phone away from his ear.

“God fucking dammit,” he hears Jungkook mutter.

They both freeze when Jungkook turns and looks up at Jimin. After an uncomfortable pause, Jimin continues walking toward him.

“Was that Yoongi-hyung?” he asks, knowing the answer.

“Yoongi-hyung is a goddamn idiot,” Jungkook says, face hard and slightly red from anger.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” Jimin sighs.

"No, seriously. You're not going to believe how much of an idiot he is."  When Jimin just raises his eyebrows at the younger man, he continues. "Yoongi-hyung got a job transfer, and moved." 

"Well that much is obvious," Jimin mutters.

"He's moved to Busan."

"What?" That doesn't make sense. Why would Yoongi move to Busan? And not tell him?

"He said he wanted it to be a surprise. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Seriously, Jimin, what've you done to that man’s brain? Does he think this is some kind of movie? A drama? It just doesn't work that way. You don’t keep those kinds of secrets in real life. Even I know that."

"I don't get it."

"He wants to be closer to you, obviously."

“Closer,” Jimin repeats dully.

Jimin’s phone goes off with a message notification. He glances down, and sees that it’s from Yoongi. Before he can open the message, another one comes in. He stares at his phone as the screen eventually goes black.

He doesn’t have time, though. Maybe he’s avoiding it, too frightened to see what Yoongi wants to say to him, or maybe he’s just being responsible, but he excuses himself, saying goodbye, and then heads back to his Kia.

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At lunchtime, Jimin finally has a chance to check his messages from Yoongi. There are several additional ones he hadn’t noticed before. His head has felt like it’s been in a fog all day, but he’s somehow managed to be productive and not alert his coworkers to the fact that his personal life is a mess.

Yoongi is apologizing in his messages. Jimin skims through them, not really reading them too closely until he gets to one in particular.

From: Min Yoongi

Received 8:37

 [Min Yoongi has shared a location with you]

Meet me here tonight when you get off work.

The rest of the day seems to fly by, and before he knows it, Jimin is standing in front of the door to an apartment about twenty minutes from his own. It’s not nearly as close to the coast as his place, and he guesses that the neighborhood isn’t nearly as expensive, either. But it’s not run-down, and looks well-kept.

He’s very hesitant as he rings the doorbell, checking again that this is the right address. He doesn’t see Yoongi’s motorcycle anywhere, but that could just mean it’s parked elsewhere. Jimin is parked a block down at metered parking.

When Yoongi opens the door, Jimin feels like the hugest weight has lifted off of his chest, and he practically moans as he lets himself get pulled into the apartment and into Yoongi’s arms.

“I’m sorry, Jimin-ah, I didn’t realize you would come to Daegu looking for me,” he murmurs against Jimin’s hair. “I moved only yesterday. I wanted to surprise you.”

“I thought you left me,” Jimin says, just as quietly. “I didn’t know what to think. And you didn’t answer your phone—”

“Yeah, I couldn’t find my charger until this afternoon, with the whole mess of boxes and bags of shit,” Yoongi grumbles. “It died sometime after dinner last night, and I only managed to find a USB cord to use this morning because that was with work stuff.”

They order a pizza and sit on the futon sofa as they flip through channels on the TV. It’s clear that Yoongi is exhausted from the move, so they just go to bed without doing anything.

Jimin wakes in the morning to lips on the inside of his elbow. It’s a strange feeling, a little ticklish, and he makes an embarrassing squeak as he jerks slightly. Yoongi laughs against him, and nips at the skin before moving up to kiss him on the mouth.

“Good morning,” he smiles down at Jimin. The light in his new bedroom is different from his old one, and from Jimin’s. The sun shines in through the east window and illuminates the back of him, making the outline of his hair glow, hitting one of his cheeks with the way his head is angled. Jimin lifts his head off of the pillow to capture his lips in a gentle but moist kiss.

They eventually get up and shower together. They eat leftover pizza for brunch as they work on unpacking more things—like clothes, so that they’re not walking around naked, although Yoongi says he wouldn’t complain if Jimin did such a thing.

“In your dreams, hyung,” Jimin quips.

“Yeah, probably. Naked Park Jimin in my apartment, twenty-four-seven, there for the taking.”

Hyung.”

Jimin’s phone beeps on the sofa, and he goes over to check it.

“It’s Jungkook. He wants to know if we want to join him for dinner tonight.”

“Probably wants to scold me again, the big brat.”

“Yeah, probably. What should I say? Did you have any plans?”

“Other than unpacking my apartment and having some fun with you? Not really,” Yoongi shrugs. “Tell him ‘sure.’”

Jimin quickly types out a reply and waits until he confirms the time and location.

Sometime in early afternoon, while they are taking a break from packing to make out, Yoongi pulls Jimin onto his lap so that he’s straddling the older man. Yoongi slides his hands up Jimin’s thighs, squeezes his ass a little, and moves up under his shirt. “You’re so beautiful.” He leans up to whisper in Jimin’s ear. “I was thinking about you all week. Thinking about how I could make you squirm. How I could make you beg.” He pauses. “Do you remember our first time together?”

How can Jimin forget? The way Yoongi had fucked him against the passenger seat of his own car will stay in his memory for a long time.

He nods, and whispers—practically breathes, “Yes.”

“I wanna tie you up again like that. Is that okay?” He kisses Jimin’s neck lightly, just under his ear. “Don’t want you to freak out, though.”

“As long as it doesn’t hurt,” Jimin murmurs, tilting his head to give Yoongi better access. He closes his eyes when he feels a tongue on him.

“No, no; it won’t hurt,” Yoongi assures him. “You know I don’t do that kind of stuff. Just wanna make it a little difficult for you to move; I don’t want you to touch yourself,” he adds.

Jimin moans slightly. “Hyung.”

“Hmm? What is it? Do you want more?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want me to fuck you niiiice and slow, or hard and fast?”

“Everything. Both. I want you.”

He can feel Yoongi’s smile against his skin. He feels his hand slip down into his pants before it teases, dry, at his entrance. Jimin jerks against the touch, his puckered hole twitching at the touch. Yoongi pushes in, just a little bit, and Jimin sucks in his breath, latching his mouth onto the first thing he can reach; Yoongi’s jaw. He gasps and moves his mouth along the skin toward Yoongi’s mouth before their lips connect. He pushes down against the finger teasing him.

Abruptly it pulls out, and Jimin takes in a sharp breath when Yoongi stands up, arms supporting Jimin’s thighs. He tightens his hold on the biker’s shoulders as he’s carried into the bedroom. Yoongi removes Jimin’s clothes and then takes both of his wrists in his. Then he takes a long black necktie and winds it around his wrists. Not too tightly, but just enough so that Jimin can’t pull free.

“Okay?” Yoongi checks.

“Yeah, it’s fine. Where are you going to…?”

“Right here,” Yoongi points out the center support sticking up from the headboard. “Convenient, huh?” He simply slides Jimin’s hands over the other side and lets go. If Jimin really wanted to, he could just pull his hands back up and free himself easily. It makes him relax a little.

“I love you,” he suddenly blurts out, feeling a little ashamed afterward. But Yoongi pauses in removing his own shirt, and leans down to kiss him carefully on the lips.

“I do, too, Jimin-ah. Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”

Jimin’s never done anything like this before, and he’s never used anything like a safe word, although he knows plenty of people do.

“What if—what if I—?” He can’t help the nervousness from creeping into his voice, and again feels ridiculous. It’s not like they’ve been anywhere close to innocent up until now.

Yoongi doesn’t seem bothered, though. “If you want me to stop at any time, just tell me to stop, or wait, and I will.” He lifts Jimin’s chin and kisses him more deeply this time. “I’m not going to hurt you. I swear.”

“I know.”

A grin quirks the side of Yoongi’s mouth. “I might wreck you a little, though.”

Immediately a surge of heat hits Jimin’s groin.

If Jimin hadn’t been so desperate for Yoongi, he might have laughed at the fact that Yoongi knows exactly where his lube is, but not his phone charger. Instead, he just spreads his legs and makes it easy for Yoongi to begin opening him up.

The other man’s touches don’t hurt, but they’re not gentle. He bends Jimin’s thighs open as far as they’ll go, and he pushes two fingers in right away. He stretches him out just enough, and then wastes no time in pushing his hard cock into him.

It doesn’t take long at all for Jimin to become tense and shaking, clenching his fists and pulling uselessly on his restraint as Yoongi fucks into him so hard that the bed squeaks. They keep accidentally biting each other’s lips and tongues, groaning into each other’s mouths from the sensations.

Yoongi comes inside him twice before taking a break to massage Jimin’s stomach and lower back, pushing harder into his skin whenever Jimin jolts from an aftershock of sensitivity.

Jimin’s not sure when the touches change, but he begins to notice a difference in the way Yoongi moves along his body. Whereas before he had been sucking hard, tonguing at him and nipping at his skin, now he is barely brushing his lips against Jimin’s body. He’s lingering longer, breathing in and out deeply, tongue gently flicking out to taste. It’s especially noticeable when he gets to Jimin’s hips. He doesn’t force Jimin’s thighs apart as he had before. Instead, he carefully and slowly lifts one leg, nuzzling and peppering warm, soft kisses down the top of his thigh and around to the inside.

For some reason, this is even more overwhelming than when he is being rough. Jimin arches his back and spreads his legs wider, letting out an exhausted moan. He can feel the way his spent cock is only half hard, but aching as if at full hardness. And even though Jimin is already filled full of cum, he wants more. He feels empty.

“Yoongi,” he whimpers, tugging at the tie around his wrists. He’s not sure if he can feel his hands anymore. He hasn’t thought about them in a while.

Yoongi doesn’t answer at first, too busy licking and suckling the inside of Jimin’s thigh; so close and yet so far away from where Jimin wants him to be.

“Yoongi,” Jimin tries again, a little stronger.

“Yes?” Yoongi lifts away for a split second to acknowledge him, before returning to that spot, right at the junction where his thigh meets his groin.

“I want…please.” He tugs at the tie again, whining.

“What is it, baby?” Yoongi turns his head to nuzzle at Jimin’s cock, and he positively keens.

“Please, I want my hands free. I want to touch you.”

He’s not acknowledged right away, again, but Yoongi does eventually pull away. “All right. I was going to let you go in a little bit anyway, but if you want to now, that’s fine.”

He reaches up for the tie.

“Wait.” Their faces are directly in front of each other, now. “What were you going to do?”

Yoongi smiles, and leans down to capture his lips for a sweet kiss. “I wanted to surprise you.”

“I don’t like surprises,” Jimin pouts, twisting in his binds.

Yoongi silently observes him for a moment, tilting his head a little. Then he nods, and smiles, like he understands. “I was thinking of cleaning all that cum out of you.” He glances at Jimin meaningfully as he rises up on his knees over his head and licks into one of Jimin’s closed palms, sucking his little pinkie finger into his mouth right before he pulls away. Jimin has to close his eyes and open his mouth to make sure he remembers to breathe. He feels himself clench on nothing, and reflexively pull his legs together.

The first and last time he was rimmed was in Seoul. He remembers how it was both mind-blowingly amazing…and terrifying. He thinks if Yoongi does it, maybe it will be all of the former and none of the latter.

“O-okay, but…promise me, that you’ll—” he cuts himself off, not entirely sure what he wants to say. He backtracks, decides to be honest. “I…want you to. But…I’m scared.”

Saying that last word is harder than he thinks. But Yoongi doesn’t even blink. He reaches for Jimin’s hands, and lifts them over the center support—lifting his entire upper body by default—and then gently sets them against Jimin’s chest.

“I think we should untie you, then. I don’t want you to be scared. I never want you to be scared, especially by me.”

Jimin mouths wordlessly at him as he watches Yoongi gently untie his sore wrists, and kiss the insides of each freed wrist before setting them down again.

“Are you real?” Jimin says suddenly. “I didn’t die, did I? And this is some kind of weird heaven or cruel hell that lets you experience the best thing in the world before tearing it away from you and laughing in your face?”

Yoongi snorts. “You have quite the imagination, there. Would that make me the devil, then? I’m certainly no angel.”

Jimin shakes his head. His arms feel like dead weights, unable to really move other than to twitch his fingers. He hopes he gets feeling back into them soon.

“Is it okay, then?” Yoongi asks. “I’ve been thinking about it. And right now you’re so full of me, so wet…I just know it will be perfect.”

“I…” Jimin is fighting himself. He wants, so badly, but he can’t deny the fear, the memory.

“I promise I won’t hurt you; I want to take care of you. And if you tell me to stop, I will. If you suddenly tense up, or even stutter out the word ‘wait,’ I’ll stop. I swear, Jimin. You have nothing to worry about.”

Jimin finally gets some control into his hands, and brings them up to cup Yoongi’s face between them, drawing him down. He opens his mouth and pulls Yoongi’s tongue inside his mouth, encouraging him more and more. When they pull apart for a moment, staring at each other at such a close, overwhelming proximity, Jimin murmurs against his cheek.

“Okay. I trust you.”

Yoongi smiles and pulls him close to continue kissing him for such a long time that Jimin almost forgets what they’ve been discussing. Then the older man begins to move down his body, in that same gentle way as before. Jimin’s entire body is quivering with want, with absolute bliss. He’s already covered and filled with the results of their activities, but as Yoongi makes his way south, he licks and massages most of the mess away.

Once again, he pays attention to the space between Jimin’s thigh and his groin, placing soft kisses and suckling at the skin. He also takes the end of Jimin’s cock in his hand, rolling his fingers around the tip, squeezing out and spreading the few dollops that come out. Jimin isn’t sure what kind of noises he’s making now, but he can’t keep his mouth closed as he breathes heavily, so overwhelmed by Yoongi’s touch that he can only lean his head back and squeeze his eyes shut.

When Yoongi finally presses his lips to Jimin’s clenching hole, he moans loudly.

“You keep squeezing cum out, baby,” Yoongi says against his skin, his warm breath and vocal vibrations sending another jolt through his body. He feels the tip of Yoongi’s tongue press against him. “So beautiful.”

Yoongi,” Jimin whines, squirming and reaching down to burying his fingers into Yoongi’s hair.

Then, the biker stops talking. Jimin chokes on a wail when he feels a tongue press in, firm but soft, squeezing through his already open and well-used entrance. Yoongi is making huffing noises as he breathes against Jimin, face buried, tongue loud and wet. It somehow feels much hotter than a cock inside him. He’s so hard it almost hurts, and it feels so utterly amazing that he doesn’t even think about anything but the way Yoongi’s tongue is moving in him. When he feels a long finger press at his entrance and begin to push in alongside, he takes that as his cue to begin pumping his dick, slow and then fast, fast and then slow.

Yoongi doesn’t pull away when Jimin comes, whiting out for a few seconds, spurting semen all over his stomach. His vision is still fuzzy as he comes down from his high, very much aware of the way that Yoongi’s tongue is still penetrating him deeply. He jerks with oversensitivity, whimpering and writhing on the bed, and cries out as he abruptly shoots out a short, second spray of cum. His stomach is retracting and expanding like a balloon as he pulls in large breaths of air.

Yoongi is still at it, and Jimin sobs. He feels like an addict who is getting everything he’s been craving, and then some. He feels like the more he gets, the more he has to have. And his throat feels raw.

“Yoongi, hyung, please! I—I c-can’t, not for…I think—aaahh!—god, fuck, oh my god—please, Yoongi, I’m gonna black out—oh fuuck.”

Jimin dry orgasms when Yoongi pushes in especially deep, pressing two fingers hard against his prostate.

Suddenly he’s empty; the tongue and fingers are gone. He clenches on nothing, and Yoongi isn’t touching him at all. It’s not what he wants. He reaches up with weak hands, nearly blind with his orgasm, and catches hold of Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Need you…hold me—don’t let go of me, please,” he begs, and sighs in relief when he’s gathered up in Yoongi’s arms. He gasps slightly when he’s lifted up off of the bed and carried out into the living room, to the bathroom. He’s set down on the top of the closed toilet seat, and leaned back. He feels like a rag doll, letting Yoongi move him around, wiping him up with a warm, herbal-scented washcloth.

“Yoongi,” he breathes, just because he wants to hear the name between his lips.

The touches disappear, and he hears the sink faucet running. He hears loud swishing, and then spitting into the sink.

“Yoongi,” he whines this time. The tank of the toilet is cold against his back, and he thinks he might be slipping a little on the seat.

Hands are on him a moment later, minty breath in his face.

“All right, baby? Jimin?” Yoongi checks, and Jimin smiles dopily up at his blurry face.

“Feel so good,” he mumbles.

Yoongi leans down to kiss him properly, reaching under his thighs to lift him back up and prop him against the counter.

“Do you feel all clean down here, now?” Yoongi asks, two fingers dipping around to stroke tortuously against his sensitive hole. Jimin convulses and moans, his grip on Yoongi’s shoulders tightening.

“You’re gonna kill me,” he gasps, and hears a low laugh against his neck. Then he’s scooped back up and carried back into the bedroom.

“Can you stand for a second?” Yoongi asks, and doesn’t give him time to respond before his feet touch down on the ground. Jimin leans heavily against the dresser and watches as Yoongi quickly strips the bed and tosses new sheets on, not really bothering to tuck them in. “This’ll do for now,” he shrugs, and comes back to help Jimin over. Jimin doesn't even feel bad that the sheets had lasted only two nights in his new apartment.

Yoongi’s phone begins ringing from the other room, and they both groan in annoyance, but he goes out to bring it back, sighing and answering it as he observes the way Jimin is now lying on the bed, arched and sated, smiling up at him in pure, fucked out bliss.

“Yeah, sorry, okay?” Yoongi is saying, but not sounding sorry at all. He sounds too happy to be sorry. “Can you give us an hour?” He pauses, and smiles at Jimin, who lets his eyes flutter shut a little. He’s completely wiped out. But he wants Yoongi back, so he lifts his arm up, reaching for him. The man comes back over to him, still on the phone, but crawls over him and begins kissing him lightly on the neck.

“Right, I know. But we were busy. And I’m not going to force him out in public right now, you know?” Yoongi suddenly laughs into the phone receiver. “Oh, I think you know what I mean.” He leans down and kisses Jimin wetly, causing him to whimper a little against his mouth. “Well, you’re the one who interrupted us,” Yoongi says lightly, teasing.

“Yoongi,” Jimin breathes softly.

Yoongi abruptly barks out a laugh, startling him. “What? You don’t want to hear Jiminie’s fucked out voice? All right, then. We’ll see you in an hour.”

He finally ends the call and tosses the phone to the mattress.

“Jungkook,” he mutters.

They’ve missed dinner.

“Let’s take a little nap and then we can head out, okay?”

Jimin hums and turns to bury himself against Yoongi, feeling nothing but relaxed looseness all over his body. It takes no more than a minute for him to fall asleep.

 .

.

.

“You...” Jungkook pauses, seems to think about whether he should continue what he’s about to say, “you two look satisfied,” he ends up with, smirking. “You, especially. Wow, Jimin. You’re glowing.”

Jimin can’t decide if he’s mortified or pleased, but the way Yoongi slides a hand around his waist makes it all worth it.

.

.

.

.

On Tuesday night, Jimin locks his Kia after getting home from an extra-long day at work and then opens the trunk of the Bugatti, grabbing his sneakers from the trunk. He unlocks and opens the door leading to the stairwell that goes up to the apartment lobby.

“Hold the door, please! I left my key upstairs,” a tall man in a business suit and a white face mask calls from a couple meters behind him, jogging to catch up. Jimin realizes it’s the same man he’d met in the mail room the other day.

He holds the door for the man, smiling politely as he catches the handle and gestures for Jimin to go on ahead.

“Thanks. It’s such a pain having to call the office to let me in. I just wasn’t thinking; had an important staff meeting to get to this morning, and my allergies really don’t help.”

“No worries.”

“Didn’t realize you were the one with the Bugatti,” the man continues conversationally as they head up the stairs into the apartment lobby, where most of the residents without cars go in and out of the building. “I’ve been wondering whose it was.”

“Yeah, that’s me,” Jimin smiles again.

“I bet it handles real nice. Do you drive it often?”

“Eh,” Jimin shrugs. “Mostly just on the weekends, you know, for when I take day trips.” He’s used to these kinds of conversations, so he can just spit out responses without really paying attention to the conversation.

Jimin ends the conversation with a polite nod when he stops by the mail room to see if he has anything—only junk, plus a few event flyers that he glances at with mild interest. His phone buzzes in his pocket.

From: Min Yoongi

Received 20:42

Still on for tonight, right?

To: Min Yoongi

Sent 20:43

Yeah.

Gonna go for a run, though.

I’ll text you when I’m back.

He quickly drops off his work bag and changes once he gets to his apartment, doing a few stretches before he heads back out again. It feels good, knowing that he can continue with his normal routine, and still see Yoongi without much trouble. Since the man has moved to Busan, life has fallen into a happy calm.

Jimin follows his usual route along the coast, enjoying the sea breeze, before heading back. He texts Yoongi as he reaches his building.

To: Min Yoongi

Sent 21:33

Just got back from my run.

Gonna shower. You wanna aim

for 10ish?

From: Min Yoongi

Received 21:35

Sure

Jimin has to wait for the elevator for what feels like ages, but eventually it does come back down to the lobby level. He steps aside to let a mother and her teenage twins exit before he steps inside and presses the button for his floor.

He pulls his earbuds out of his ears as he goes to shut his front door behind him, and abruptly his instincts kick in. He doesn’t know if he’s heard something, or if it’s just an echo from down the hallway, but he turns the doorknob to draw in the latch so it doesn’t click loudly when he shuts it behind himself. He doesn’t turn on the light. He carefully slips off his sneakers and silently steps into the hallway leading to the other room.

He can hear it, now. Shuffling, and the nearly silent sound of soft, rubber-soled shoes on the flooring. Shoes, in his shoe-free apartment. Jimin isn’t carrying anything, coming from a run. All he has are his phone, his earbuds, and the outer apartment building key. He bends down to gently set the earbuds and key on the floor, not caring where; just wanting to free up his hands. He keeps his phone with him, holding the glowing dial pad screen against his clothing to hide the light, the numbers 1-1-2 already typed in and waiting for the ‘call’ button to be pressed.

He hears something rattle; something small and metallic. He tries to create a mental picture of what it could be, but he’s coming up with a blank. He can’t see hardly anything, but his eyes are beginning to adjust. He’s getting closer to the shuffling. He hears the definite click of a cabinet closing, soft, but unavoidable due to the magnets on the latch. It has to be a burglar. None of Jimin’s family knows the code to get into his apartment. Most of his acquaintances don’t even know where he lives. And Yoongi doesn’t know the code. Jimin’s heart is pounding painfully in his throat, too loud in his ears. He clenches the sides of his phone.

He doesn’t know what he’s going to do when he inevitably meets the intruder.

Jimin isn’t weak, by any means. But he’s not trained in combat, he hasn’t been to the army yet, and he’s never had a break-in before. He can’t decide if he wants to startle the intruder and possibly fight them, or take a secret photo and let them leave so they can be caught later by the police.

Jimin isn’t given a chance to come to a decision.

Abruptly, the shuffling gets closer, and he literally bumps into the darkly clothed figure. There is a shout—he’s not sure if it’s himself or the man; he can tell it’s a man now—and then he quickly flicks on the kitchen light. The intruder is wearing a black hoodie, pulled up over his head, and a black face mask. Jimin can’t even tell what color his hair is, or whether he has hair at all. He’s taller than Jimin, and thin. It only takes a split second for Jimin to decide he can take him on.

He throws himself at the man, who’s got a backpack slung over one shoulder. It sounds like there’s something heavy inside. Jimin can’t think of what valuables it could be. He doesn’t think at all. He and the man tumble to the floor in a mess of limbs and swears. Jimin tries to grab for the man’s mask, or his hood, but he gets a knee to the stomach, and he goes rolling. He’s back up on his feet in a second, grabbing the man by the back of his hoodie. They bump into the counter, moving into the kitchen as they scrabble against each other.

It only takes two seconds.

One second. The knife block topples over. The familiar shhhree of the carving knife leaving its sheath sounds in the room.

Two seconds. Pain explodes in Jimin’s stomach. He doesn’t scream. He makes an almost inaudible grunting gasp, and falls against the edge of the counter. The knife is pulled out of him. He sees it come down at him this time, and lets gravity take him, pulling him out of the way just in time. The knife slices past his shoulder, just grazing him.

He can’t think. He’s lying face down on the kitchen tile. He hears the knife clatter into the sink above him. He slides his hand under himself, pressing up against the pain. It feels hot, like there’s boiling water pouring out of himself. The rest of himself feels cold. His face feels cold. Clammy. His lips feel funny. His shoulder burns. He groans, hears the front door slam shut. It’s silent.

His adrenaline is keeping him from passing out, but he knows his body is shifting into shock mode.

Where is his phone? He’d dropped it at some point during the fight. He struggles to push himself up enough to look around. The strength is being sapped from his arms. He just barely manages to catch sight of his phone lying under the standing wine rack—it’s a miracle they didn’t knock it over—a few hands’ breadth away.

He takes a deep, excruciatingly tense breath of air, and then shoves his body enough for his non-bloody fingers to catch hold of the phone. He drags it across the floor to the tile by his face, and presses the call button. He knows he now needs an ambulance, not just the police, but there’s no way he can change the number now.

He barely registers the sound of someone answering. He can feel the adrenaline seeping from his body. Or is that the blood from the hole in his stomach?

“Ambulance…please… S-stab wound.” he doesn’t even try to listen to the person on the other end of the line.

He recites his address and then finally lets himself pass out just as his phone buzzes with an incoming text message. The notification box fades unread into the background, the numbers beside ‘Call Duration’ continuing to increase with every second that passes.

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Chapter Text

Chapter 10: ‘Drift’

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Jimin wakes up to the smell of antiseptics and the white glare of hospital ceiling lights, even though they’re dimmed slightly due to it being nighttime. He’s lying on a simple hospital bed, two I.V.s plugged into his arm; one with a pack of blood hanging up on the other end of the rolling stand, the other full of some clear liquid. He feels drowsy and weak, but not in pain. His mouth is dry and pasty, like someone’s stuffed cotton balls inside and sucked up all the moisture.

He looks around. He appears to be alone in the room, his only company being the steady beep of the heart monitor beside his bed. He lifts his head, thinking about trying to sit up, but then his belly aches dully, and abruptly all of the strength is sucked out of him. He lets his head fall back onto the pillow with a soft groan.

In his peripheral, he can see that his cell phone is sitting on the small table on the right side of the bed. He grimaces as he reaches for it, dropping his hand limply onto his chest and letting the phone slip down toward his collar. It slides right off his shoulder onto the pillow. He takes a few breaths before gingerly picking it up again, letting his hand rest on his chest as he angles the phone so he can see the screen and unlock it. It’s past three in the morning.

There are a few messages, from his mother and from Yoongi. He opens his mother’s first.

From: Eomma

Received: 23:11

Jimin, did you just try calling your Abeoji?

Sorry, we missed your call. We were out at the movies.

[Missed Incoming Call: 23:14]

[Outgoing Call: 23:16]

[Duration: 6:33 minutes]

 

Jimin doesn’t bother messaging or calling her. It’s too late, and it looks like the hospital got in touch with her, anyway. If his parents had come to the hospital, they’d probably been kicked out after it got too late.

He slides open the multitude of messages from Yoongi.

From: Min Yoongi

Received 21:40

On my way

Be there in maybe fifteen minutes

Received 21:53

Here.

Door in the lobby is open, so you

don’t need to come down to let

me in. There’s a bunch of police

down here, and an ambulance.

See you in a bit.

Received 22:56

The hospital staff won’t fucking

let me stay with you bc we’re not

family, and they won’t tell me shit.

I KNOW they haven’t gotten in touch

with your parents yet, though.

Overheard reception.

Call/text me when you see this.

Received 23:41

Jimin they’re taking me in for

questioning PLS call me when

you wake up

Received 00:03

Please don’t die

Jimin I love you

Please

There aren’t any messages after that. Jimin nearly drops the phone off of the bed, but luckily it only slides out of his fingers onto the mattress and doesn’t have enough momentum to bounce off onto the floor. He has to take a moment to rest before he tries to pick it up again. He feels so, so weak. His eyes flicker to the bag of blood. He wonders how much he lost.

He tries to type, but it’s exhausting, so he presses Call and switches to speakerphone, hoping no one is close enough to hear him if it’s louder than he expects. He rests the phone on his chest.

Jimin?” Yoongi answers immediately, voice ragged. “Jimin, is that you?”

“Yeah,” Jimin rasps out, wincing at the dry feeling in his throat. He wishes he had water.

Oh thank fucking god. Jimin.”

“Hyung,” he sighs. “Where are you?”

I’m at home because they wouldn’t let me go anywhere near your hospital room. Jimin, how are you feeling?

Jimin has to let his head fall back on the pillow because it’s too exhausting to hold up anymore. He stares up at the ceiling.

Jimin? Are you there?

“Yeah,” he murmurs, feeling like he’s falling asleep again. “I’m…I think I’m passing out again, hyung.” His eyes flutter shut.

Shit. Jimin?

There’s silence. The phone goes black, and then a moment later it’s buzzing and ringing against his collarbone. He groans, and manages to answer the phone, just as the machine next to him begins to beep urgently.

Jimin. Are you okay?” It’s no longer on speakerphone, so Yoongi’s voice is just barely audible.

“Hyung,” he whimpers. “Where are you?”

The door slides open and a nurse enters, rushing quickly over to his bedside.

“Jimin-ssi, you shouldn’t be on the phone right now,” he scolds Jimin in concern. “Please tell whoever it is that you’ll call back.”

Jimin’s head is spinning, and he can’t grasp the phone, so the nurse takes it.

“I’m sorry, but my patient can’t speak on the phone right now. I’ll make sure he calls you back when he is in a better condition.” The nurse pauses, listening. “I’m sorry, but I cannot disclose that information—”

“Plea sleh’im seeme,” Jimin slurs, and then coughs abruptly. A sharp pain shoots through him, and his mouth tastes like iron. He doesn’t notice the nurse’s eyes widen, but he hears him end the call abruptly.

“Jimin-ssi, you need to calm down,” he says quickly but softly. He uses a tissue to wipe Jimin’s mouth for some reason. Is he drooling?

He vaguely registers a spot of red moving out of sight before his eyes roll back in his head.

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When Jimin wakes a second time, he’s still in the same room, but he has the sense that he’s been moved. His body feels numb, and he can’t gather the strength to even lift his hands or head, so he just stares up at the ceiling. He can hear the sound of people moving around out in the hallway, and there is daylight streaming in through the translucent curtains.

“Oh, you’re awake, Jimin-ssi,” he hears a voice to his left say, and his eyeballs move in their sockets because he can’t shift his head. It’s the same nurse from before, organizing things on the cart next to the bed. “You’ll probably have some trouble moving for a bit as the anesthesia wears off. Don’t worry; you’re not paralyzed. You had some complications and had to go back in for surgery. You really shouldn’t be moving around right now. You’re very lucky that the knife didn’t cause further damage to begin with.”

Jimin tries to talk, but his throat is so, so dry. “Wah-er?” he manages.

“I can give you a little, but not too much. You’ve still got an I.V. drip in, so you’re not in any danger of dehydration.”

A bottle with a bent straw is held up to his mouth, and he closes his lips around it to suck down some moisture as the nurse holds his head up a little.

“Good; that’s it.” The straw is pulled away. “Only that much for now. We don’t want to upset your stomach for another hour or so.” The nurse continues, conversationally. “You lost a lot of blood. Luckily someone with O blood type was on the scene and helped them do an emergency transfusion on the way to the hospital.”

“O blood type?”

“Yes, you’re A, but people with O can give blood to anyone. That man probably saved your life.”

“Do you know who it is?” Jimin asks. He can feel his body more now, and can move his arms. He reaches for the water and is given a few more sips.

The nurse shakes his head. “No. He probably left once you reached the hospital; non-family members can’t see you without your permission, and since you had no way to approve—”

“Wait,” Jimin interrupts, “can I give the reception…someone’s…name to make sure they…can come see me even…if I’m asleep or…can’t approve them?” It’s tiring to talk, but he has to know.

“Of course. We usually have a list of approved visitors for patients. I can let reception know for you. What’s the name?”

“Min Yoongi.”

“Ah, the person you were speaking to on the phone?” At Jimin’s frown, he gestures vaguely at the phone, now sitting on the side table, safely out of Jimin’s reach. “I saw his contact name when I took your phone. But yes, I can do that for you. Are there any others you would like to add? I believe your parents and…younger brother?...are already on the list.”

Jimin shakes his head. “No, that should be fine. If…anyone else comes, I’d like to be awake for them."

“Of course.” 

Once Jimin has more strength in his body, he calls work to let them know he’s in the hospital. He promises the nurse he won’t move around too much.

"Your father already called us about an hour or so ago," his boss says over the phone. "But it's good hear from you personally. I was worried when we heard the news—especially since I’d already heard about the incident on the news first thing in the morning. They just didn’t say who the victim was."

He discusses the details of his medical leave, making note of all of the proofs of medical care and various paperwork he'll need to provide once he's out of the hospital. It's all very routine, and helps take his mind off of the worst of his situation at hand. When he’s finished, he gives his father a call.

Jimin, what happened? Your mother nearly had a heart attack when the hospital called last night.

“It was a break in, Abeoji. Someone broke into my apartment, and he was still there when I came home. We fought in the kitchen, and he grabbed one of the kitchen knives.”

How are you feeling now? You were in surgery for nearly the entire time we were there. You didn’t wake up before we had to leave. Jihyunie and your mother have been crying all through the night with no sleep.

Jimin feels guilty for some reason. He knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help it. “I’m not feeling much at all, honestly. I think they’ve doped me up on painkillers. Tell them I’m all right now.”

He looks down at his stomach. There’s nothing out of the ordinary to see, thanks to the hospital gown he has on, but when he carefully runs a hand down his torso, he can feel the gauze or bandages taped to his stomach.

“I can’t really move much,” he adds with a sigh. “I’m dreading having to take a piss,” he tries to joke, but the small huff of a laugh has him clenching slightly with a grimace. He just barely keeps the breathlessness out of his voice.

Well, just take it easy, okay, son? And I want you to take as much time as you need to heal. I know you can afford to take the time off, so don’t tell me otherwise.”

“They’re putting me on emergency medical leave, anyway,” Jimin points out. “I literally can’t go back to work until I have a doctor’s note declaring me fit to work.”

Good. Your mother and I are staying at Jihyun’s right now, so we can come over to keep you company whenever. When would you like us to come by?

“Maybe sometime in the afternoon?” he suggests. He hasn’t had a chance to call Yoongi, but he’s hoping that the other man can come in before his parents. Even though Jimin had been floating in and out of consciousness in the middle of the night when he’d called, he still remembers their conversation clearly. He can’t imagine how Yoongi is feeling right now, but if Jimin reverses their roles, he knows that he would be a wreck. He needs to make sure Yoongi is okay.

They schedule a specific time a little later in the afternoon, and then Jimin hangs up and immediately texts Yoongi.

To: Min Yoongi

Sent 9:58

I told reception to put you on the

list of approved visitors.

He gets a reply barely ten minutes later. Yoongi says he’ll be there within the hour. Jimin smiles at his phone, and then decides to take a photo of his smile to send. The selca isn’t the nicest (Jimin’s lips are pretty chapped, he is still very sallow, and his hair feels greasy), but he adds a heart emoji afterward, and gets a ‘See you soon <3’ in return.

Jimin finally sets aside his phone and has to call the nurse to help him over to the small closet-like toilet in his hospital room. He can barely stand, holding tightly to the I.V. stand for extra support, and he tries not to think about the fact that the nurse is standing right outside the thin door, listening as he struggles to keep upright while he relieves himself. By the time he’s done washing his hands, he feels completely drained, and nearly has to be carried back to the bed. There is a foldable wheelchair in the room, but the distance between the bed and the bathroom is not worth the trouble of opening it up.

He slips into a doze, and only wakes up when Yoongi arrives.

Yoongi looks exhausted when he walks into the hospital room around eleven. His eyes are sunken, his face has a sickly pallor, and his eyes are slightly bloodshot. He's wearing a simple black t-shirt, and Jimin notices a dark bruise on the inside of his elbow. There’s an even darker pin prick at the center of the bruise. As if he’s gotten a shot or…blood drawn. He’s holding his arm a little funny, like it’s sore. Yoongi notices him staring.

“How’s my blood feel?” he grins weakly, like he’s making a joke. “You’ve certainly got a lot of it circulating your body now.”

Jimin blinks, not really able to react to his surprise. “You…were the one who they used for the emergency transfusion?”

Yoongi nods. “I’ve never been so thankful for having type O before. And for remembering what type I am. I rode with you to the hospital, and then they kicked me out once they didn’t need me anymore. Gave me some sort of coupon voucher as thanks. I was so fucking furious, and they wouldn’t tell me anything. Apparently telling them I’m your boyfriend isn’t enough.”

He’s silent for a moment, just staring down at Jimin. He reaches for his hand, and laces their fingers together.

“I was so scared, Jimin-ah.” He’s whispering now. “I got up to your apartment right as they were carrying you out on the stretcher. There was…there was so much blood everywhere, and you were unconscious. When I first saw you, I thought you were—" he cuts himself off, looking sick. "Luckily the paramedics are nicer than the hospital receptionists, and let me stay with you. When they said you were losing too much blood, I offered my own right then and there. I didn’t care how much they took; I couldn’t let you—” he breaks off again and brings Jimin’s hand up to his face where there are tears slowly dripping down. He kisses the back of Jimin’s knuckles, then turns his hand over and kisses the inside of his palm. Then he leans forward to very gently brush their lips together.

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers. “I won’t let you go.”

Despite the current circumstances, Jimin feels happy, and so very much loved.

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The police come in to question Jimin later in the afternoon, just after lunch. Yoongi nods shortly at them; Jimin wonders if they are the same officers who had questioned him last night. Jimin tells them everything he remembers, which isn’t very much, unfortunately. Since Jimin is in no condition to check out the apartment and determine what is missing, they show him photos taken of the scene and of the rest of the apartment. From just the photos, he can tell that, in addition to the obvious absence of his expensive Bluetooth speakers from his entertainment center, the surface of his dresser is missing several articles of jewelry he always leaves lying about, his wallet is lying face up on the dining table and suspiciously empty-looking; all the cash and his credit cards have been stolen. He then finds out from the police officers that his Bugatti is gone.

“The landlord said that you have two vehicles registered with the building; a silver Kia, and a blue and black Bugatti, but we only saw the Kia in the parking garage. It seems he took off with the Bugatti.”

Jimin feels his heart sink. His Bugatti, his baby. Gone.

“It wasn’t a smart move on his part,” one officer says, shaking his head. “It’s only a matter of time before he is spotted. We have security footage of him from the mail room—that’s where he figured out which apartment you were in, by the way—and the entrance from the garage, along with a photograph your family provided of the vehicle.”

“It’s already been sent to the news stations to request for people to keep an eye out for the vehicle and report if they spot it.”

Once the officers leave, Yoongi helps him go through all of the trouble of cancelling his cards and contacting his bank. Jimin is in the middle of a phone call with one of his credit card companies when Jihyun knocks and walks into the room. He pauses and glances at Yoongi in minor surprise, before nodding politely and walking over to the bed.

“You must be Min Yoongi-ssi,” Jihyun says with a smile, and Jimin watches as Yoongi nods.

Jimin mouths, ‘I’ll be done in a minute,’ to his brother as he listens to the person on the other side of the phone confirm the cancellation and reissuance of his credit card. Once he’s finished, he sets the phone face down on the side table. “I thought you guys weren’t coming until three,” he starts, not really sure if he wants the whole “meet the parents” situation to happen right now.

Jihyun waves him off. “Oh, I came early. Eomma and Abeoji are picking up some stuff for you before they come here.”

“Some stuff?”

His younger brother shrugs. “Yeah. Non-hospital food, things to do, the like. You know how Eomma can get when one of us gets hurt,” he ends with a wry smile. As if he hadn’t been up crying over his older brother all night.

“You two look scarily similar,” Yoongi suddenly says out of the blue, and Jimin looks over at him.

“What?”

“I mean, I think Jihyun is taller, and his face is a little longer, but otherwise…wow.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head. It isn’t the first time he’s been told they look alike, but it’s odd coming from Yoongi.

Yoongi leaves before Jimin’s parents show up, promising to come back in the evening, and there’s a moment of silence after his departure.

“He seems like a cool guy,” Jihyun says, then. He looks carefully at Jimin. “So, how serious are you two?”

Jimin is feeling pretty exhausted, and he takes a few seconds to answer. “I don’t know…but he may have saved my life last night.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know how much you heard last night when you were here, but the paramedics had to give me an emergency blood transfusion on the way to the hospital. I’d lost too much blood.”

“Yeah, I heard….”

“Yoongi arrived just as they were taking me, and he offered his blood. I mean, I don’t know exactly how much I lost, but…I might have not made it if he hadn’t—”

“I’m sure the medics would have figured something else out. Anyway, it all worked out in the end, right?”

“They haven’t found the guy, Jihyun-ah. The cops came in to talk to me already. He’s still out there, somewhere. With my Bugatti.”

Jihyun frowns. “I’d rather you lost your Bugatti than your life, hyung.”

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Jimin’s time in the hospital passes slowly, but at least he doesn’t have any more complications.

Yoongi can't stay with him in the hospital on the second and third days; he'd called out of work the first day, claiming a "family emergency," but he doesn't have the luxury of taking any more time off. Jimin passes the time by reading and watching TV, and Jungkook visits him a couple of times. When Jihyun shows up at the same time one evening and the two gang up on him to tease him about Yoongi, Jimin grouses about having two little brothers when one was bad enough.

The police track down the burglar a few days later, when someone spots the Bugatti and snaps a clearer photograph. They figure out his name soon after: Lee Jungmin. He’s been in trouble with the law before, and he has been working with at least two others for minor but well-paying burglary around Busan. His face is plastered all over the news broadcast, while Jimin's is thankfully absent; he'd asked for anonymity during his questioning.

Jimin and Yoongi are eating together in his hospital room one day during the other man’s lunch hour when the regular news broadcast playing on the TV is interrupted to show live coverage of a police chase. Jimin sits up more when he realizes the car being chased is his Bugatti. The police really don’t have a chance, and the helicopter following overhead can barely keep track of the supercar as it races along the expressway.

He has a bad feeling when he sees the way the driver is taking the curves; Jimin has plenty of experience handling his car, but clearly Lee Jungmin has never been inside of a supercar before. Jimin seizes Yoongi’s arm reflexively as he watches the Bugatti take a curve too fast, try to avoid a car up ahead, and in the blink of an eye flips over and over, its momentum hurling it over the median and into the opposing direction’s traffic. A Mini Cooper just barely avoids it, swerving into the other lane, but the SUV directly behind the Cooper doesn’t have time to react. It plows into the overturned Bugatti at full speed, and both vehicles spin away from each other before catching fire.

“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes, just as tense as Jimin is.

There’s a small puff of smoke and flames as the SUV suffers a minor explosion. Other cars on the expressway have stopped, and they watch as a couple of good Samaritans run toward the wreckages to pull people out. Three people are helped out of the SUV, one of whom is a child and seems to be unconscious. The police catch up as the driver of the Bugatti is pulled from the almost unrecognizable supercar. It’s impossible to tell from the helicopter footage, but the driver is either unconscious or dead, being carried by the shoulders and feet a way’s away on the median, close to the police cars. The flames on the Bugatti increase, and Jimin halfway expects it to explode, but maybe that’s just what happens in movies and not in real life, because the car just continues to burn heavily with lots of smoke.

A couple of ambulances arrive on the scene and load up each of the victims.

The live feed cuts back to the news report, with the updates being broadcasted from the row of text scrolling horizontally along the bottom of the screen.

The news casters report that Lee Jungmin is on his way to a hospital—and Jimin is somewhat relieved that the man is not coming to Inje, where he is staying. The news coverage finishes up, and Yoongi and Jimin go back to ignoring the TV when the commercials come on.

“I’m sorry about your car,” Yoongi says.

Jimin just sighs and shakes his head. If it had been a month ago, he would be outraged by the situation, but now he can only be thankful that he is alive. He can always buy another car. It will never be quite the same, and it will put a significant dent in his finances, but all he can think about right now as Yoongi takes his hand and squeezes it lightly, is that he’s glad it wasn’t worse.

It is as Yoongi is cleaning up their lunch mess when the “Breaking News” tone interrupts them. They both look up automatically.

We interrupt this broadcast to inform you of the latest developments for today’s earlier story. Lee Jungmin, the suspect at large for critically stabbing a man at his home before stealing and crashing his car, has died en route to Busan Medical Center. He suffered a hemorrhage from injuries sustained in the crash.

“What the fuck?” Yoongi hisses.

Jimin doesn’t know what to think.

“That’s it? He’s dead?” the other man continues, outraged. “All that, for him to just fucking die? What a fucking—”

The eight-year-old girl riding in the opposing vehicle has also succumbed to her injuries. The driver and adult passenger are still in critical condition—

“Yoongi,” Jimin says quietly. He feels detached from the situation. Like he’s watching from the corner of the room. “Please turn off the TV.”

Jimin’s phone begins ringing as Yoongi picks up the remote and switches off the TV. They both glance at the phone; it’s Jungkook.

“I can’t,” Jimin shakes his head. “You take it.” He feels like he’s in a tunnel, all of the sound coming through a watery, echoing filter. He can still hear the phone ringing, and suddenly Yoongi’s hands are on his face.

“Jimin. Look at me.”

He does, and realizes his eyes are blurry with tears.

“Good. Now breath with me, okay?”

Jimin tries to follow the exaggerated breaths that Yoongi takes and releases, but he can feel himself slowly falling apart.

“It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.” Yoongi sits down on the edge of the bed and carefully pulls Jimin into his arms, letting him bury his face against his shoulder to weep into. He can’t pinpoint the exact reason why he is crying; he doesn’t know the girl, he doesn’t feel guilty—he knows it’s not his fault—and he’s not all that shocked at Lee Jungmin’s death, after seeing the force of the crash. It would have been a miracle if he had survived, honestly. But he can’t stop the tears right now, and he wraps his arms around Yoongi’s back, clutching tightly to his shirt.

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.

.

Jimin is discharged from the hospital a day later.

The landlord has to let Jimin and his parents into his apartment. There is a new, temporary door; Jimin assumes the emergency responders had to destroy his door to get into his apartment. He can’t say he minds. He’d rather be alive than have an intact door. The blood has been cleaned off of the floor.

“Are you sure you don’t want one of us to stay with you, dear?” Jimin’s mother asks as she helps unpack some of the groceries—and toss out the things that have gone bad in Jimin’s absence.

Jimin is sitting on the sofa, having gotten too tired from the journey out of the hospital and then up to his apartment.

“No, it’s fine, Eomma.”

.

.

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It’s not fine. But for an entirely different reason than she had been alluding to.

Lying in his bed that night, Jimin is tense. Every click the refrigerator makes in the kitchen, every hum from the air conditioner, and every creak of the floor seems like someone is in the apartment. He feels like his ears are extra sensitive, picking up on voices and footsteps from upstairs and next door. He rolls over, trying to will himself to sleep. But his heart won’t calm down, and the darkness, which has never bothered him before, seems to press in on him, making the shadows even more ominous; hanging clothes look like a silhouette of a person, a pile of blankets is someone crouching down across the room.

It’s around four in the morning when Jimin can’t stand it anymore. He grabs his cell phone and dials Yoongi’s number. It rings for a while before a rough voice answers.

Jimin?”

“Hyung, can I come over? Can I stay at your place tonight?”

Jimin, it’s…ugh, fucking four in the morning. Shit. Is something wrong?”

“No, I just, can I come over? I can’t sleep.”

There’s silence on the other end for a couple seconds. Then he hears a sigh. “Sure. Just…call me when you get here.”  

Yoongi has on a gray t-shirt and black boxers when he opens the door, blinking blearily at Jimin. He’s clearly still half asleep. He shuts the door without a word, and herds Jimin back into his bedroom. He doesn’t even wait for Jimin to undress before dropping back onto the bed with a loud groan. However, he thankfully doesn’t ignore Jimin once he climbs onto the mattress; he reaches across the bed to pull Jimin toward him, being careful of his still bandaged stomach. He lifts his head just enough to kiss Jimin lightly before sighing and settling back against the pillow.

“You can’t sleep?”

Jimin’s surprised that Yoongi has the cognitive function to start a conversation in his state of half slumber.

“Yeah,” he replies. “I keep hearing things in my apartment. I know it’s not anything; just the fridge, and air conditioner, and whatnot. But I can’t help think that there’s someone in my apartment.” He pauses. “Sorry. I know it’s stupid.”

Yoongi makes a grumbling sound, but Jimin realizes it’s not a complaint against him. “Nah, it’s not stupid. Makes sense. I’d prob’ly be the same if that ‘appened to me,” he mumbles. He snuggles his chin against the crook of Jimin’s shoulder and neck. The night is warm, and muggy, but Jimin finds he doesn’t mind the closeness.

He can feel himself calming down within minutes. The sounds in Yoongi’s apartment aren’t that different from his own, but the warm presence pressed up against his body, breathing evenly and shifting against him every so often to get more comfortable, somehow eases his fear and quells his overactive imagination.

He lets out a long lungful of air, and shifts his head on the pillow so that he’s facing Yoongi’s forehead. He closes his eyes and presses his lips carefully to the other man’s skin and feels the arm over him tighten slightly. He just barely hears a hum and then lips against his bare shoulder.

It doesn’t take Jimin long to fall asleep this time.

When Jimin wakes in the morning, it’s to the sensation of a hand stroking soothingly up and down his arm. His face is tucked against Yoongi’s chest, and the other man has his arm around him, lazily running his fingers along Jimin’s skin. Jimin lifts his head with a breathy groan and squints at him.

“Morning,” he gets a smile from the wide awake man.

“How long have you been awake, hyung?” He tries to push himself up, and Yoongi gives him a hand so he doesn’t strain his stomach muscles so much.

“Not too long. Maybe fifteen or twenty minutes?”

Jimin raises his eyebrows. “And you didn’t want to get up? You could have woken me.”

Yoongi shrugs. “I didn’t feel like it. And you were sleeping like a baby,” he adds fondly.

Jimin snorts slightly, eyes shut as he cricks his neck a little and stretches his tense shoulders. “You’re getting soft, Yoongi-hyung.”

“I know. It’s all your fault, too.”

Jimin pauses, and stares at him for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “Luckily, I like you both rough and soft.”

Yoongi helps him change his bandage after his shower. He doesn’t have his painkillers with him, having left them at his apartment without thinking—he’d grabbed the extra bandages, but not the medicine—and he nearly passes out from the pain. His face gets clammy, and Yoongi holds onto his shoulders to support him until he pulls himself back together. The other man looks pale as well, but Jimin knows it’s just from worry.

“How are you getting home, Jimin? You shouldn’t drive in this condition, and I don’t think anything I have is strong enough to help—or should be mixed with your prescribed stuff.”

Jimin doesn’t answer, because he hasn’t thought that far ahead.

“I can go with you back to your place,” Yoongi suggests. “Then I can drive your car.”

“You’re not busy?”

He gets an unamused look. “Jimin. Do you think I’m just going to go off and leave you high and dry right now? Of course not. What kind of boyfriend would I be, then?”

Jimin sticks his tongue out of the corner of his mouth. “A shitty one?”

“That’s right. Now let me pretend that I know what I’m doing and take care of you.”

He smiles around a grimace, and allows himself to be helped to his feet. The pain is almost unbearable, and he’s kicking himself for forgetting his painkillers. “Okay.”

By the time they get to Jimin’s apartment building, he is biting the inside of his lip to keep from crying out in pain. Yoongi looks at him in panic, and asks if he’s sure that there’s nothing wrong; it seems like too much pain to be normal.

“Shit, I don’t know if I can carry you upstairs,” he says, coming around to Jimin’s side of the car. Jimin unbuckles himself with trembling fingers. He accidentally squeezes Yoongi’s wrist too strongly when he opens the door and reaches in. Yoongi only hisses slightly and slides the other arm under Jimin’s armpit.

“I can walk,” Jimin claims. “I just—ughhh, hyung,” he groans, before shoving his face against Yoongi’s chest and muffling a pained cry.

“I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” the biker assures him. Possibly also trying to reassure himself. “Come on, we just need to get to the elevator. Or I could run up myself and bring them down to you.”

Jimin tightens his hold on Yoongi’s shirt. “Don’t leave me, hyung,” he gasps. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

“Okay, okay. Bad idea. Right, come on, then.”

It feels like hours, but is probably only about five minutes, tops, until they reach his apartment. Yoongi immediately sits him down on the sofa and follows his directions to get the painkillers, taking out two capsules and pouring a glass of water.

It’s another ten minutes before they begin to kick in. Jimin falls back against the sofa cushions, exhausted and covered in cold sweat, face streaked with tears.

“Yoongi,” he mumbles with eyes closed. “I need you to kiss me, okay?” He swallows. “Please, just…I need it.”

“Of course.”

Yoongi’s voice is soft, and Jimin feels the sofa dip on both sides of him with the extra weight. A hand gently lifts his chin, and a moment later Yoongi’s lips are on his. He slowly opens his mouth to kiss back, although neither of them bother with using their tongues. He lets his eyes flutter open for a moment, to see how the other man has his own eyes carefully shut, and has both knees on either side of Jimin’s lap, straddling him in a deceivingly innocent way. Jimin closes his eyes again and makes a soft noise of pleasure when his chin is tilted up more and angled to the side to give Yoongi better access.

After a good several minutes, and a few slightly deeper kisses, Yoongi pulls away, sitting back on his lap. Jimin slowly opens his eyes to gaze at him. Yoongi reaches out to wipe off the last of his dried tears with his thumb.

“All right?” he says, smiling warmly down at him.

“Hyung, can I stay with you at your place?” Jimin asks.

Yoongi takes one of his hands, and laces their fingers together. “Of course. Hell, you could just move in with me, if you wanted. But my place isn’t that big.”

“Fucking hell,” Jimin breathes. “Fucking…hyung,” he can’t formulate a sentence properly. He feels overwhelmed with an emotion he hasn’t really properly felt until now, he thinks.

Yoongi looks amused. “Is that a yes, then?”

“God…yes,” is all he can say.

He pulls him down for another, deeper and more emotional kiss.

Jimin thinks he’s never loved anyone quite so much as he does Min Yoongi.

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Epilogue

Over the next week, Jimin gets back most of his stolen belongings once the police locate Lee Jungmin’s hideout. Not everything, but nearly everything. In the end, they are all just material objects he can live without, but it is nice to get back the earrings his mother had given him for graduation, and the watch his father had gifted him to congratulate him on accepting his current job.

Recovering from an injury is not very high on Jimin list of things he enjoys doing. It’s right there around cleaning out the drains, or meeting with a frustrating client; both necessary, but unpleasant to carry out.

He can’t go out for his usual morning runs, he can’t do most of his workouts to tone his abs, and since he also hasn’t gotten approval from the doctor yet, he can’t go back to work. The most he’s been able to contribute is via email or phone communications when the office needs to know the details for his current projects. He’s just lucky has such a stable position in the company, he supposes. But even if he did end up losing his job, he’d have all of his investments to fall back on.

Yoongi, of course, still has work. When he’s gone during the day, Jimin has to fight against his boredom in the other man’s apartment. He hasn’t officially moved in yet—they’re waiting for him to be able to help with the heavy lifting—but in the meantime his own apartment is lying unoccupied while Jimin eats, sleeps, bathes, and just in general lives at Yoongi’s place.

He reads, he watches TV, he plays video games on Yoongi’s console…he takes “slow, gentle” walks, as he likes to call them when he informs Yoongi about what he’s been up to during the day. He’s not trapped in the apartment; that’s for sure. But he has so much extra time to himself that he feels like he’s just drifting listlessly through the days, and it’s driving him up a wall.

It also doesn’t help that he and Yoongi haven’t had sex in…a while. At first, it’s because he can’t; his doctor specifically warned him against having sexual intercourse for the first week. But then Yoongi just draws it out, out of concern for Jimin’s wellbeing. After all, when the doctor told him no sex, he probably wasn’t aware that Jimin usually was the one getting penetrated, nor that he was used to having rougher sex than a normal couple. (Or, at least, that’s his assumption.) He’s too uncomfortable to ask whether it’s safe for him to have anal sex, and so they play it safe for several days. Of course, they still touch each other, and blow each other, but it’s just not the same.

One Friday afternoon, on the second week after he’s been out of the hospital, Jimin decides to take action.

He changes out of the clothes he’s been wearing that day. He purposely leaves his pants off, and only buttons a few of the middle buttons on the large white cotton shirt he’s found in Yoongi’s closet. It successfully hides the bandage on his stomach. He’s frustrated, has been frustrated, for too long now. He’s determined to get what he wants as soon as Yoongi gets back from work.

He sits down on the sofa and turns on the TV, flipping through several shows on Netflix before settling on one he’s seen before. He falls asleep midway through the second episode, bored.

The sharp click of the front door shutting stirs him from sleep; he’s become a far lighter sleeper than he used to be prior to his attack. He hears keys settle carefully onto the counter, and then senses the presence of someone—Yoongi, of course—come over to stand by the sofa.

Fucking hell,” he hears Yoongi mutter to himself, and then the sofa dips as he sits down beside Jimin’s feet which are tucked up onto the cushion. A gentle hand slides up his outer thigh, slowing down before hesitantly curving around his ass and squeezing slightly. He realizes that the shirt he’s wearing has ridden up to expose his entire lower half.

He takes that as his cue to wake up for real.

Hyung,” he slurs, opening his eyes and stretching a little as he turns over onto his back, shifting his legs so that they are now spread with his knees in the air, instead of being closed and off to the side as before. He wants Yoongi to see.

“Hey baby,” Yoongi murmurs, voice low. “I see you stole my shirt.”

He smiles, still a little sleepy. “Yeah.”

After a moment of just staring at each other silently, he asks, “Are you going to touch me, now?”

“You want me to touch you?” is the idiotic question Yoongi responds with, and Jimin wants to kick him. But instead, he just pouts.

“I always want you to touch me, Yoongi.”

He gets a laugh, and then the other man leans down over him. “Don’t use your lips like that, Park Jimin.”

“Like what?” He pokes his tongue out and flicks it along his lower lip before biting it and laughing a little. Yoongi is barely two hands’ width away from his face, and he can see the exact moment when his pupils dilate.

“You fucking tease,” Yoongi groans, grabbing his chin and pressing his thumb against the space just below his lower lip. His fingernail touching its plump surface.

“Not teasing, hyung,” Jimin whispers. “Inviting.”

And then, finally, finally, Yoongi gives him what he wants. He pulls Jimin up from the sofa and leads him into the bedroom, removing his own clothes in the process. He’s far gentler than he’s ever been with Jimin’s body, but it feels amazing in an entirely different way. As Jimin lies back with his legs wrapped tightly around Yoongi’s hips, filled to the brim with his cum and with his softening cock still inside…stomach covered with his own release…clutching his boyfriend’s face between his hands as they devour each other’s mouths and tremble with aftershocks, Jimin thinks that despite all of the bad luck he’s had lately, he is very happy.

Going to that car show in Daegu had been one of the best decisions of his life.

They pause to eat a quick dinner, and to shower (Yoongi helps to clean any remaining semen out of Jimin, and nearly causes him to have another orgasm), before climbing right back into bed.

“I’ve missed this,” Jimin says softly, running his fingertips down Yoongi’s chest. He is leaning over the older man, just playing. He dips down to suckle a nipple, and smiles when Yoongi begins carding his fingers through his hair.

“Me too.”

They doze, and lazily make love a couple more times, just to make up for all the days they’ve missed. Before they realize, it’s halfway past four in the morning. They’re both sleepy, and sated, but Jimin glances at the window and sees that the sky has that deep blue color just before it’s about to lighten up.

“Yoongi,” he says, sitting up. “Let’s take a walk.”

He’s met with a groan. “Now?”

“Yes. Now.” He pats the other’s thigh. “Come on. Get up.”

Luckily Yoongi doesn’t put up too much of a fuss, and they shrug on some light clothes and sandals. Yoongi grabs his keys from the kitchen counter.

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The waves lick at Jimin’s toes, sweeping up the sand and swirling around his ankles. He walks along the wet shore carefully, eyes closed as he listens to the way the waves whisper in the early morning hour. He hears the muffled jangle of keys in a pocket approaching from behind him, slowing once they reach him, and then matching his pace. The color of the inside of his eyelids begins to change from black to grayed beige, and then to soft pink as the sun starts to peek up from the horizon.

Jimin opens his eyes and pauses. Yoongi stops as well, and slides his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Jimin’s shoulder. As the sky turns orangey yellow, Jimin feels one of Yoongi’s hands rubbing soothingly across his belly. Jimin can’t help the amused quirk of his lips, and he turns his head toward Yoongi.

“I’m not a girl, hyung,” he teases in a low voice, rough from overuse.

“Huh?” Yoongi glances up at him without lifting his head or stopping the circular motions of his hand.

“This,” Jimin says, putting a hand over Yoongi’s, effectively hindering his movement.

Yoongi frowns. “I don’t get what you’re even talking about, Jimin-ah.” His thumb resumes the movement his hand can’t, stroking back and forth over the material of Jimin’s shirt. The sun is steadily getting brighter and brighter, and a pair of dry lips brush against Jimin’s bare neck. They suck lightly, before a wet tongue slips between them to gently taste him.

“You’re holding me like, like I’m a girl. With a…” he trails off, feeling embarrassed, now that he’s vocalizing what he noticed.

“A girl…with a…?” Yoongi’s voice is pondering, soft, before suddenly he snorts against Jimin’s neck. He lifts his hand from Jimin’s belly briefly before letting it fall again, patting him lightly; not hard enough to antagonize his mostly healed injury. His stomach isn’t as hard as it used to be since he can’t keep up with his usual exercise routine. His body has gotten soft, and the pats make a small noise that he’s not used to hearing. Jimin can feel himself heat up a little more in embarrassment; he shouldn’t have said anything. He lets out a little, “Oof,” of surprise when he’s suddenly pulled back closer against Yoongi’s front.

Yoongi pats his belly two more times before whispering jokingly in his ear, “How’s my baby doing?”

Hyung,” Jimin protests, swatting the hand away, but before he can do anything else, Yoongi spins him around and captures his lips in an intense but slow kiss. His hand is not on Jimin’s stomach anymore, but on the corner of his jaw, holding Jimin still as he claims his mouth, licking and sucking, and tasting. They remain like that as the sun rises fully above the horizon, promising a beautiful summer day. They don’t notice, though; too caught up in each other, too wrapped up in their own world.

It’s impossible to know if they will last forever, but Jimin realizes that even if they eventually go their separate ways, what they have now will always be a precious memory, and is worth all the risks. He pulls away from the kiss for a moment, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. They smile at each other and then both move forward at the same time, meeting in the middle.

Yoongi’s hand creeps down his spine and curves around his ass, squeezing slightly, forcing a gasp from Jimin’s throat. He's still sensitive.

“Too bad we’d both get arrested if I took you right now, on the sand,” Yoongi mutters against his mouth.

“You fucking pervert,” Jimin snorts, breaking the kiss, only to get pulled back a second later.

“You know you love it.”

Jimin just smirks against his lips and then opens his mouth to draw him in.

After all…Yoongi’s not wrong.

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The End.