Jimin stares up at the red banners draped over the marble balconies, eyes peering over his orange tinted glasses as his lips settle above a flute of champagne, still fizzing after just being popped from the bottle. The banners announce the opening of a new exhibit as well as a private auction for the more collectible pieces. One such piece has already been bought directly, a piece Jimin has been interested in for awhile.
Although it would look rather nice hanging in the living room, it would look much nice in the form of cash after he sells it to someone else.
Rich men —some women, too, but mostly older established men— mill about the main level. where statues flank both sides of the marble floor. Above, classical musicians play. The ambiance is overall sophisticated, Ah Seungho’s showcase a place that brings anyone who’s of importance, one that Jimin finds rather stuffy and cold; he even pulled out one of his more formal outfits from his closet for this event, an all black statement with a matching black diamond Chanel necklace, but his peach pink hair and orange aviators paint him to be a young art connoisseur— just like the man he’s looking for.
Jung Hoseok is the man who bought the painting Jimin wants. And he’s going to steal it.
But first, like any good con artist, he has to learn more about his target. Which is why he’s been standing near a statue for the past 10 minutes searching the crowd for a man his age with dark brown hair and an upturned nose. Unfortunately, that isn’t much information to go off of, but Jimin has seen his pictures and there aren’t many men under fifty here.
Taking out his phone from his pocket, holding the flute of champagne in the other hand, Jimin checks the time and also ensures the mini tracker perched between his fingertips is on. On his screen, the exact GPS location, coordinates, and position are labeled. All he has to do is stick this to something or slip it inside a pocket and he’ll know Jung Hoseok’s every move.
After reading a text from fellow con artist and best friend Taehyung about scamming a wealthy woman for some of her inheritance, Jimin pockets his phone but keeps the tracker in his palm. He lifts his eyes from the floor and quirks a brow when his target finally appears with a beautiful woman on one arm, rubbing one of his shoulders before gliding into the crowd to mingle. Jimin lifts his flute and down goes the champagne in one fell swoop, the empty glass deposited on a nearby server’s tray.
Hoseok is saying hello to a man when Jimin squeezes into the crowd, pretending to mingle and politely excuse himself as he inches closer to his target on the other side. When he emerges, half of his body is turned back towards the crowd so when he does bump into Hoseok, he lets out a quiet noise of apology and is able to slide the tiny tracker into his jacket side pocket before their eyes can meet.
“Oh, my bad,” Jimin utters when he turns his head, fixing his glasses on the bridge of his nose. Hoseok has one hand on Jimin’s arm until he believes he’s stable on his own. “I might have just bumped into one of those statues if you weren’t in my way.”
Up close Jung Hoseok is much more to look at than an upturned nose, he’s handsome in a very intimidating manner, perhaps in the way that his steely eyes don’t quite match the curve of his expressive mouth, nor high cheekbones. As though he’s trying not to enjoy the atmosphere, or the attention he’s getting, and can’t help but do.
He’s wearing an ensemble similar to Jimin’s even down the his own pair of glasses, These a pale shade of blue. His suit clings to him subtly, outlining a lean but tone body, and his pristine white shirt has two buttons undone, exposing his chest. There’s an expensive watch circling his wrist, and an array of thick rings on his fingers and he, too, holds a glass of champagne.
The file on him didn’t let Jimin down. He’s every inch a young magnate interested in collecting the finer things in life. Beautiful artwork, jewelry and men and women. It’s no wonder Jimin can spy from the corner of his eye an array of people staring at them.
Once it’s clear Jimin doesn’t need help standing, Hoseok puts some distance between them, though it’s not much.
“You’re fine, there’s just a lot going on in this place. You never know how much something is gonna’ cost until it breaks,” He says. The curve of his mouth dips into a small smile; Jimin feigns a blush. “I’ve got stories of all the things I’ve seen go down at these places. A little stumble is nothing.”
Laughing airily, Jimin's lips curl into a smile. "This isn't your first, then? If there's no rush, I'd like to hear one of these stories, talk to someone that doesn't have grey hair with one foot in their grave."
“I don’t have that many firsts left to spare,” Hoseok says, gesturing loosely around the area. “Especially in these parts.”
A waiter passes by with more champagne and Jimin plucks a glass from his tray, the alcohol gently fizzling. Before he takes a sip, he lowers the glass again and meets Hoseok's lingering gaze through their tinted glasses. "Bold. My name is Park Jimin, I should have introduced myself. And you are. . . ?"
Hoseok isn’t the handshake type, which Jimin supposes is equal parts condescending and confident. He doesn’t have to go through formalities given the fact that nobody cares for them when it comes to him. He is the kind to linger though, Not one to break eye contact.
“Jung Hoseok.” He says, voice like silk. Coming in close, Jimin feels more than hears him murmur, “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine Hoseok-ssi, trust me,” Jimin says, tipping his glass. Champagne in these parts always tastes the nicest, and in any other circumstance he’d indulge, but not tonight.
Tonight this target requires his undivided attention, so the champagne can wait. Perhaps he’ll steal a crate on his way out, have some with Taehyung later.
“You’re listed as one of the auction buyers,” Jimin points out, attention shifting to a large standing sign where all the names of the buyers are listed right at the entrance of the gallery. He turns his head back and grins above the rim of his glass. “A man with quite the artistic taste, then. I like that.”
Hoseok peers at the list as he has a sip of champagne, pausing over his name. “What can I say? I like beautiful things. Besides, owning art is a lucrative hobby. It’s like swimming with sharks. They catch a little hint of blood in the water and attack.”
“Maybe it's not the art that’s pulling them in,” Jimin says, an eyebrow arched. He appraises Hoseok where he’s standing, clicking his tongue. “Something better to get their hands on, you know?”
Hoseok tips his glass, throat working on a swallow. Once it’s empty, he deposits it on a nearby servers tray, then ticks both hands into his pockets. Very aloof, he surveys the area, finds Jimin staring and shrugs.
If he’s caught on to Jimin’s attempts to seduce him he doesn’t mention it, which makes Jimin’s fingers tighten around the stem of the glass. He’s always loved a man that plays hard to get, finds the challenge that much more thrilling.
“Are you looking to buy a piece for yourself, Jimin-ssi? Anything in particular happen to catch your eye?”
Jimin has spent his fair share of time in museum galleries, learning about art from the professionals and the crowd, but there’s the slightest quirk to Hoseok’s brow when Jimin taps his fingers against his glass. He can’t give away his true intentions, so he glances over at one of the Grecian statues next to him and racks his brain for an artist. “I’m actually more into Grecian and Roman inspirations, not necessarily what’s modern. These statues in this room especially catch my interest, but everything exhibited is. . . not for me, I suppose. The Birth of Venus is what comes to mind for me.”
“ Ah , what a shame,” Hoseok drawls, clicking his tongue. “That’s overrated. I figured you had taste. Guess I was wrong.”
Unfazed, because most of what he said was a lie, Jimin shrugs a shoulder. “We all have different tastes, don’t we? It’s a classic painting from the Italian Renaissance. But if we want to talk sculptures, I have many favorites that outnumber my interest in paintings.”
Hoseok isn’t the kind to let things go easily, and it begins to grate on Jimin’s nerves. Not like he gives a damn about art anyway, but still, he’s never been grilled like this.
“Oh? And which are those?” He asks, taking a step closer. People continue to stare at them, perhaps curiosity piquing their interest. As though he’s aware of the attention, and aware of Jimin’s thinning patience, Hoseok grins. “C’mon, don’t get shy on me. What exactly do you like, hm?”
“You’re mistaken if you think I’m shy.” Jimin’s voice comes out in a purr, more than he would usually allow in this situation, but they would both be blind if they didn’t notice the tension between them. Cat and mouse, sizing up the other. He reaches out to tap his finger on the golden dragon pinned to the lapel of Hoseok’s jacket. “ Apoxyomenos, Bassin d’Apollon, Apollo and Daphne, just to name a few. I appreciate the human body the most in all its perfection.”
A spark of amusement lights up Hoseok’s face, and he leans in just an inch. Enough so that Jimin can feel warmth of his breath as he speaks. Enough to discern that all it takes to get him going is a pretty face and a little knowledge, bare minimum in fact.
“Apollo and Daphne. Now that’s much better. See, we have that in common, at least.” He murmurs, fingers hesitant as they move forward, unsure. Jimin takes a step, and Hoseok’s fingers graze the curve of his shoulder, then dip low, stopping at his wrist. “I like beautiful people, too.”
Jimin smiles, leaning in to the touch. Hoseok is attractive and intelligent, maybe too much for his own good, and it makes Jimin almost pity him for when he gets home and sees his expensive painting is missing. If only they could spend more time together, then maybe Jimin would reconsider. Another time, another place.
“As I’ve said, a man with taste.”
“Could teach you a thing or two about that,” Hoseok says with a smirk, his laugh pleasingly husky. “Broaden your horizons a little.”
As Jimin opens his mouth to reply, there’s a distinct crackling sound overhead and then a woman’s voice comes on over the loudspeakers in the gallery, announcing that the next round of auctions begins in 5 minutes and all interested should go to the North wing. Hoseok releases Jimin’s wrist from his hand and he sees this as his opportunity to slip away, carry out his task and steal that painting before anything happens.
“I’ll be seeing you around, Hoseok-ssi ,” Jimin hums, tipping his head back to clear the rest of the champagne from his glass. People are beginning to shuffle in their direction. “Good luck if you purchase more. I hope you find more that’s your taste .”
Hoseok’s lips part as though he wants to object, but the shuffling of people moving towards them provides an opportunity for Jimin to do as he always does when the show is over and it’s time to collect; disperse and disappear, like smoke being carried out by wind. Nothing more than a hint of pink hair amongst a crowd, a face and a name.
He digs out his phone as he’s hopping down the front steps of the museum, activating the tracker on Hoseok and grinning to himself when it shows the exact position where he left it in the man’s pocket. All he has to do now is his job.
“You make it too easy, Hoseok.” He says, lips twitching with a grin as he pockets his phone in order to run both hands through his hair. “It’s almost boring with how easy.”
If there is one thing Hoseok can do without, it's feeling like he’s let something important slip through his fingers. That something, or someone in this case, being Jimin.
Park Jimin, so to speak. A skilled con artist, unmatched with how easily it comes for him to take what’s not his the way one takes candy from a baby. A pretty face, along with a sky high list of aliases, makes him almost impossible to pin.
A nightmare draped in pink, as his coworkers —who have failed in bringing him in— like to say. A pain in the ass, Yoongi calls him.
And usually Hoseok would’ve given them hell, tease over the fact that an entire crew of men skilled in bringing down harder targets have struggled to handle one man, if not for the fact that now he’s one of them, too.
Scoffing, because he can’t quite get over the fact that just when he’s believed to have had Jimin eating out of his hand the man had slipped through his fingers like sand, Hoseok turns a corner. Away from prying eyes and ears, past the murmur of people boasting about the size of their pockets and down the hall.
He ensures he’s alone on the way towards the emergency exit, not needing the extra hassle, nevermind someone else to deal with on this night, before he pushes the door open and heads to the stairs.
He’s uncomfortably hot in this get up, Dior has always looked good on him, but has also always made him too damned hot, especially in settings like these. He undoes another button to his shirt, taking each step as quick as can be while remaining alert to his surroundings.
The stairwell leading towards the roof is dark, barely visible from minimal light that bleeds in from the moon, enough to cast shadows on the walls. It’s also deathly quiet, not a sound save for his labored breathing able to be heard.
Hoseok glances over his shoulder, finds nobody behind him, and nods. He’s alone, just as he’d suspected.
How very sly of Jimin to make direct contact with him at such a publicly sanctioned event, where there’s eyes and ears everywhere. Hoseok would be impressed if he weren’t so irked by the man’s lack of shame.
The door to the rooftop gives easily, and opens up into a direct view of the city below. Hoseok steps forward, a breeze hitting his flushed skin, then stands by the edge. For a moment he’s silent, using the time in order to collect himself before making contact.
He’s certain Jimin will come forward tonight. He’s gone through the trouble of singling him out, and it’s for a purpose. Hoseok can feel the threat of facing him looming beneath his fingertips, a subtle but insistent thrum.
Reaching inside his jacket, near the inner breast pocket, He presses a button, and suddenly hears Yoongi in his earpiece.
“Hoseok, You wanna tell me why the fuck you let him pull the slip on you?”
Hoseok winces, recognizing Yoongi’s tone for what it is, impatience. “Listen Hyung, he’s a slippery fucker. I had him right there, just needed a little more time and he would’ve fallen right into the trap.”
There’s silence for all of three seconds before Yoongi snorts. “Right,” He drawls through the static surrounding the earpiece. “And this is coming from you, who said this would be child’s play. Too easy, you said. You’ll catch him in no time—”
“Don’t really appreciate your tone,” Hoseok mutters, indignantly ignoring all Yoongi has said, since he sounds too smug over the entire situation. “You’ve never dealt with him. You don’t really get what we’re up against.”
Yoongi hums. The implication clear: he thinks Hoseok is full of shit. “Not my area of expertise,” He says.
“Not much expertise needed to sit on your ass and let me do all the work, is there, Hyung.” Hoseok huffs, reaching inside his pocket when he pats over it and feels something not quite right. Upon further inspection, he scowls. “Unbelievable. He… he bugged me. Right in my face and I didn’t realize it until now.”
There’s a resounding crunch through the earpiece, which can only come from Yoongi eating on the job once more. “Well yeah , I could’ve told you he’d do that.”
Hoseok examines the small black pod shaped tracker, ignoring Yoongi once more. Just a location tracker from what he can tell, small and unassuming enough to not be outright noticeable, but still very good of Jimin to sneak it on to him. He’s just as sly as they’ve been expecting him to be, maybe even more so now that Hoseok has properly met him.
“I’m leaving the auction now,” Hoseok says to Yoongi through the earpiece, holding the tracker in his fist as he makes his way back into the stairwell, leaving the roof. “I’m dropping this somewhere. He’s probably already making his next move. Keep an eye on my security cameras and let me know if you see him coming.”
Yoongi makes a soft sound in response, followed by a series of fast paced clicks which Hoseok assumes means he’s typing. “Yeah, you do that, hot-shot. Drop the bug on a waiter or someone who won’t leave right away. We need Jimin to assume you’re not home. We need him to be bold and walk right in, that way when I make the call and we bring him in, I can laugh in his face.”
“Trust me, He’s got a frustratingly good looking face,” Hoseok mumbles as he steps into the gallery once more, where the crowd has thinned, but the area still remains full of patrons. Champagne continuously flows, which means the night for these people is still young.
“Ain’t no face as pretty as money, that’s why he got the slip on you. You weren’t using the right head.” Yoongi tells him in that way of his, a little lazy as though he can’t be asked to do anything else. How he’s their company’s eyes is beyond Hoseok, but he’s long since gotten over the curiosity surrounding Yoongi.
“I’d like to see how you’d act around him then,” Hoseok mutters, searching for the best place for the tracker. There’s a waiter currently refilling glasses of champagne in the corner, not paying much attention to anything else other than how much liquor is being poured. It’s easy for Hoseok to slide past and drop the tracker in his pocket without the server noticing, not even turning his head to look at Hoseok as he walks away.
“Alright, the bug is on a waiter.”
“Now we get in position and wait,” Yoongi says. “Park Jimin ain’t gonna wait any longer. He’ll make his move tonight.”
Hoseok listens along to his instructions as he steps out into the night, where it’s balmy and a touch windy all at once, on his way towards their private car. He’s diligent in constantly ensuring nobody is following him, despite Yoongi giving the all clear.
Only once he’s settled inside the privacy of the car does Hoseok exhale, letting the tension melt off his shoulders. A glance outside shows the city in motion, a blur of colored lights passing him by.
Jimin might have won this round, but it’ll be Hoseok to win the game. He’s certain of it.
After parking his motorbike a few blocks from the penthouse, Jimin checks his phone to ensure his target is still where he should be. He creeps along the dark walls in an alleyway as he makes his way to Hoseok’s penthouse where the money is at, smiling to himself when his tracker still appears to be at the museum, in the auction room where Hoseok should be at right now. Auctions are still continuing, but by the time they’re over, he’ll have the painting secured and his men will be here with the press of a button to pick it up.
Hoseok lives in a very expensive, sophisticated high rise building, a nice penthouse on the top floor. Jimin’s learned the general layout by studying floor plan maps so extraction should be relatively simple.
He doesn’t exactly blend in to his surroundings, what with his outfit change into a glittering leather jacket and pricey Gucci shirt, but the outfit has become his signature and it doesn’t feel right to complete a heist without his ensemble. His custom pink glittering 9mm pistol is strapped across one side of his chest, just concealed by his jacket, but he hopes he doesn’t have to use it tonight.
Besides, it’s a weekend and Gangnam-gu never sleeps, so to those who don’t see much else other than a pretty face, Jimin will appear as any other young man enjoying a night out.
He’s quick in making himself scarce, a blur in the shadows in an alley across the building, from where he can see those coming and going with relative ease. Security is tight, and Jimin spots two men in black clothing speaking to each other besides the front door, so breezing past them and going inside won’t be an option.
It becomes clear he’ll have to get his hands dirty, and who better to join him in that than Taehyung.
Jimin reaches for his cellphone, typing a quick message to his partner with a set of instructions. Take out the security alarms on the main floor, and kill the cameras; a simple task for Taehyung and his arsenal of people ready to do whatever he asks.
There’s no reply for a few minutes, wherein Jimin becomes impatient, tapping his boots against the concrete. He’s debating whether or not he should go into the building anyway with or without Taehyung’s help when his phone goes off, a subtle vibration in his pocket.
Taehyung’s given him a brief window, less than ten minutes to get in and get to the penthouse before staff can realize they’ve been tampered with. Just how he managed is a mystery, but Jimin knows personally how far a pretty face can get a man, especially if he’s surrounded by idiots.
Jimin grins, a simpering laugh echoing off the walls.
He inches his way around the back of the building, looking for the entrance where the freight elevator is located. There are vans parked in the back lot, men wandering about, back door leading outside propped open. Jimin’s eyes light up when he sees a man in a navy button down and somewhat dirty slacks, out having a smoke break. A housekeeper. Not what Jimin had expected but he works.
He had planned on taking a master key from someone else, as this apartment complex has no standard lock and key mechanisms, and he wasn’t sure how much time he’d have to hack into the system with Taehyung’s help. Lucky for him, this man has just what he needs.
Jimin hugs the side of the building and shuffles towards the housekeeper. A puff of smoke falls from his mouth and he digs into his khakis for his pack of cigarettes and a lighter, searching for another, but Jimin pries his gun from his holster and slides up quietly behind the man. As he drops the cigarette and begins to stomp it out, Jimin reaches out to strike the man in the back of the head with the butt of his pistol. Not too hard, but enough to knock him out for a moment.
He catches the man in his arms so he doesn’t land on the concrete head first, quickly digging around inside his pockets for the master room key. When he finally picks up the key card in his back pocket, Jimin holsters his gun and drags the man closer to the wall, trying to prop him up.
“Just borrowing this for the night, it’s nothing personal,” Jimin whispers, making sure the man is propped against the wall of the building before ducking inside, where the freight elevator is located.
The trip up to Hoseok’s penthouse is smooth, just as Jimin expected. No thanks to Taehyung’s work on the security cameras. The freight elevator isn’t used much on weekend nights according to his research. Just housekeepers and other staff use it, but Jimin’s alone the entire time on his trip to the top floor.
Jimin is still cautious as the elevator doors open but he finds the hallway empty. The door is across the way and he plucks the key card from his pocket, turning it over in his hand. Chandeliers hang from the ceiling and he catches his reflection in a few mirrors he passes by. Taehyung’s work on the security cameras is almost finished, but once Jimin calls for his moving crew, they won’t have to hide. Just every day movers moving a large painting down the freight elevator, nothing suspicious.
He eyes the white door of the penthouse and pauses to listen to any movement. There’s a soft buzzing noise coming from the electricity in the hallway, but otherwise, the penthouse appears to be as empty as everything else.
Jimin holds the trap key and carefully slides it into its place, smiling to himself when the door clicks and a green indicator light appears above the handle. Tucking the key into his pocket, Jimin twists the handle slowly, finding the penthouse dark, only the twinkling lights from the other high rise buildings allowing him to see where he is in the foyer. He shuts the front door behind him as quiet as can be and then the lights flick on.
Only to be confronted with the sight of Jung Hoseok lounging against a marble top counter, enjoying a drink in the dark, an eyebrow quirked his way.
Jimin stifles a curse, wills the sudden race of his heart to quell. He musters the brightest smile he can, and slinks in, leaning his head against the wall.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.”
Hoseok doesn’t reply immediately at first. Takes his time in savoring the drink cradled in his hands, long fingers wrapped around a short glass. Jimin notes that he’s lost the suit in favor for something much less magnate and a lot more stealth like, combat boots and a woven turtleneck, thick straps across his chest and shoulders. He’s dressed in all black and if the lights hadn’t been turned on, Hoseok would have blended in easily.
“You dressed up all for me?”Jimin croons, “I’m impressed, though this outfit doesn’t hit as hard as the other one.”
Hoseok swallows then, the clank of the glass hitting the counter a distant noise amidst the rush of adrenaline echoing through Jimin’s body.
“We can't all look as flashy, Rainbow Bright.”
Very slowly, he smiles. Presses a hand to his chest, lips jutting out. His fingers brush the holster of his gun, so very tempted to give Hoseok a true show of colors, like how nicely red blends into walls when it splattered. “Don’t be mean, Hoseok-ssi, It’s best to dress up for a break-in, haven’t you heard?”
His eyes scan the room. It’s an open floor plan, with an immense living room connected to the kitchen he’s walked into, one door behind him and an entire wall of glass windows overlooking Seoul. A beautiful place. . . with an odd lack in art hanging on the walls for someone whose reputation alludes to them being a collector of fine pieces.
Jimin’s eyes roll over to Hoseok. “You’re not really an art connoisseur, are you?”
Hoseok raises an eyebrow, has another sip. His throat works as he swallows. He’s slow in moving away from the counter, back now leaning against the glass wall overlooking the city. Like this it would be very difficult to believe he is anything other than a pompous art brat with too much money to burn, but Jimin knows better than anyone how often looks can be deceiving.
“Do you even like The Birth of Venus?”
Jimin snorts. Comes closer, moving through Hoseok’s home as though it’s his own, aware that the other man tracks his movements. “Not really. Art’s not my style unless it’s making me money.”
That rouses the smallest of shifts in Hoseok’s traits. A slight curve, not quite a smile but not a scowl either. “Wasting time in galleries isn’t my style either, not unless I got a thief to catch.”
It clicks for Jimin, and he stops where he is, just at the edge of the counter. He licks his lips and furrows his brows. “You’re an agent, aren’t you? You already know who I am and why I’m here. I applaud you for finding my bug, where did you put it? On a waiter? Someone else? Most agents find them faster than you, or at least try to stop me before I get away.”
“You’ve got a reputation, of course I know who you are and why you’re here,” Hoseok says, looking him over and stopping near his chest. “Though I’ve got to admit I expected you to be taller.”
Jimin’s hands tighten into fists by his sides, nostrils flaring. “I don’t need a couple more inches to use my gun, but you already knew that.”
As though Jimin hasn’t said a thing, Hoseok adds with a sly smile, “I also figured you’d be smarter. Do your homework more and find a rouse when it’s right in front of you, but I guess it can’t be helped.” He murmurs, gesturing vaguely towards him, “Can’t expect much out of the pretty ones.”
Instead of reaching straight for his gun, as in most situations, Jimin bursts towards Hoseok. But Hoseok knows this place better than he does, and instead he veers to the right and hops over the kitchen counter, a long almost rectangular shape blocking off the kitchen from the living room and the hallway. Jimin grips the counter with one hand and swings himself over, both of them knocking down a bowl of fruit and a few glasses. They shatter on the ground behind them.
Hoseok is in the entryway of the first room when Jimin uses the momentum from leaping over the counter to crouch down and swing out with one foot, successfully striking him right in the ankle. The agent tries to catch himself on the doorframe and he swings around to face Jimin, which earns him a well planted kick to the thigh that has him falling flat on the floor in what appears to be a bedroom.
“You don’t expect much from the pretty ones?” Jimin croons as Hoseok pushes himself up with his palms, faltering when Jimin shoves him to the floor with the heel of his boot right against his groin, just enough pressure for Hoseok to stop with spread legs and glare up at Jimin. He presses down harder with his boot and Hoseok winces, but Jimin only smiles. “Mm, then I shouldn’t expect much from you either, then.”
There’s a momentary pause of silence between them, where Hoseok is panting, curling a hand around Jimin’s ankle whilst Jimin grins. A subtle press down and he feels it, a faint difference.
“ Oh, I see ,” He purrs, applying a hint of pressure against the seam of Hoseok’s pants, just over where he can feel it. Hoseok is hardening through the fabric, and it seems Jimin knows the reason why. “You like this, mh? A little rough play does it for you, Hoseokie ? Cute.”
It shouldn’t surprise him when Hoseok grips harder to Jimin’s ankle and grits his teeth, suddenly tugging and knocking Jimin off balance.
“Little bastard,” Hoseok hisses as they grapple on the floor, Jimin nearly falling on top of Hoseok after losing his balance. But he rolls to the side and Hoseok lunges for him, dragging him by his leg towards him, to which Jimin lashes out with his foot once more and just narrowly misses the agent’s chest.
It’s a game of shove and release as they practically roll around on the floor. Hoseok tries to pin Jimin, but Jimin is too slippery for that, sliding away every time Hoseok thinks he has him down. One of his hands slides down to his thigh where he has a knife strapped, almost dark enough to blend in with his pants, fumbling to remove it from the leather strap around his thigh. That’s when Hoseok’s grabbing him again, this time solidly on the wrist and driving his knee into Jimin’s gut, but the glint of a wicked sharp knife has him reeling his head back just in time before Jimin can get a strike in.
Now with a weakened grip on his wrist, his side throbbing momentarily from the pressure, Jimin scowls and shoves Hoseok away with both feet. The agent coughs as he’s rolled across the floor. He’s found himself by the floor to ceiling glass windows in the bedroom, hair in his eyes as he’s scrambling to his feet. Jimin crouches again, this time knife in hand.
Hoseok is lucky Jimin misses.
He slings the knife across the bedroom but Hoseok ducks and hits the floor. The knife is only a foot to his right and Jimin curses for his bad aim, the knife clinking hard against the glass and bouncing off harmlessly to the ground.
Hoseok’s eyes follow the path of the knife and he chuckles, wiping away what could possibly be blood from his lower lip, a kick or a punch placed just right.
“A little off your game there, kitty cat?”
He turns his head to stare at Jimin, but his eyes widen in surprise when Jimin stands above him with a scowl, chest already heaving, peach pink hair framing his face. Jimin snatches Hoseok by the straps of his shirt and drags him to the wall only a few feet away, hissing at Hoseok’s nails scratching into his hand. He yanks Hoseok to his feet and slams him into the glass, using his other hand to draw his pink gun and press it to Hoseok’s chin.
“I think my game is pretty good right now,” Jimin hums, tipping Hoseok’s chin forward with the muzzle. Their chests heave, both panting softly, but Hoseok stills. “Shame yours isn’t. What, cat got your tongue? ”
He moves his hand away from Hoseok’s chin to press the gun elsewhere, but that’s when Hoseok does the unthinkable; he suddenly snatches Jimin’s wrist holding the gun and swings them around, slamming Jimin into the glass and hiking a knee between his thighs. Jimin arches away from the cool glass, sight dizzy for a moment and his back aching from how hard he hit the wall, Hoseok’s grip bruising on his wrist. He tries to slip away but this time, he’s the one pinned.
No amount of writhing in Hoseok’s hold does anything other than urge the agents knee to consistently press up against his groin, until Jimin stiffens. Breathing hard, angrily glaring at Hoseok, who seems pleased amidst his own heated stare.
His free hand can do nothing but snatch a fistful of Hoseok’s shirt, wrist beginning to cramp and grip loosening on the gun. Jimin’s breathless, a knee pressed between him and Hoseok’s panting, little smear of blood on his chin from a small knick to his lower lip. The glow of the city skyline through the glass windows at Jimin’s back illuminate the room, but it’s still dim enough to where shadows play along the far walls.
They stare at one another unblinking with hooded eyes, chests heaving, bodies locked together in a standstill. Neither makes a move first, until Jimin grows tired of the silence and smirks, leaning forward just an inch to mock the agent in front of him, who has his target but has no idea what to do next.
“Think you look pretty cute with a bloody lip,” Jimin purrs. Their noses brush and that’s the moment when Hoseok surges forward, slotting their mouths together in a messy, shapeless kiss where Hoseok’s tongue licks inside his mouth. There’s the slight metallic tang of blood on Jimin’s lips.
His wrists clench with the urge to touch, to move and to push, but Hoseok is unyielding, grip only faltering when Jimin’s lips part further and he catches Hoseok’s tongue with the edge of his teeth, drawing out a quick moan from him. Hoseok kisses him like he’s got a point to prove.
And maybe he does.
Jimin’s breath hitches audibly because Hoseok still has his leg wedged against Jimin, rubbing right against his cock, filling him with a coiling heat he knows Hoseok is feeling as well. Wrist now cramped, mind somewhere else, Jimin releases his gun from his hand and it falls to the ground with a rather loud thud, their kiss breaking because of the sudden noise.
He uses this opportunity to wriggle his way out of Hoseok’s grip but uses both hands to shove Hoseok square in the chest.
The only place for them to logically go is on the bed, and Hoseok allows himself to be shoved on to it, knees hitting the side, laying out perpendicular as Jimin climbs on top. Jimin cages Hoseok in with his thighs, thick muscle straining against the fabric of his leather pants, sitting right on Hoseok’s groin and grinding down once just to hear the strained groan that falls from Hoseok’s mouth.
“You get a boot to your dick and that’s all it takes to get you hard,” Jimin comments crudely as he’s leaning forward to kiss Hoseok again, this time sliding his tongue over the roof of Hoseok’s mouth. Keeping him occupied as he squirms out of his jacket and tosses it to the side, as well as the empty gun holster. Hoseok’s hands grab for Jimin’s hips, lips sliding down the column of Jimin’s throat, but then Jimin pulls back, pointing a small pink blade at Hoseok’s chin. Just the right size for maiming, but not as impressive as the one discarded near the wall alongside his gun.
The hands on his body slowly lower and the Adam’s apple of Hoseok’s throat bobs. Arousal still reflects in Hoseok’s eyes but he does gaze at the knife wearily. “You ever not armed for combat, or am I just special?”
“I’ve got all sorts of tricks up my sleeves, you see.” Jimin smiles. Brings the knife low, tapping the dull part of the blade up against Hoseok’s chest, the tip poised to the fabric of his shirt. “Don’t flatter yourself, I play the same with all the pretty boys.”
Hoseok’s responding laugh dies in his lips, the room falling silent save for the sudden tear, Jimin slicing through the fabric, starting from the dip of his throat and ending low on his torso. The woven fabric gives easy under the sharp blade, and Jimin makes quick work of peeling it off, knife held between his teeth.
“Jesus, you’re vicious.” Hoseok breathes, fingers moving on their own accord towards the straps still held taut against his shoulders, only for Jimin to slap his hands away, press them flush to his sides.
“Keep them on.”
Hoseok swallows, moving his hands from Jimin’s grip. Jimin feels his stomach clench beneath him, and smirks, once more returning the knife to his skin. A tease of sorts, testing the limits of how far he’s willing to go. A slow grind of his hips, his ass circling over Hoseok’s cock has him groaning, but the hilt of the knife smoothing down his chest pulls a series of gasps past his lips.
His grip around Jimin’s hips tighten, fingers clenching around the end of the shirt and tugging.
In response, Jimin raises the knife to his lips and bites down on the hilt, bringing a hand behind his neck and tugging off his shirt in one smooth pull, careful to avoid the blade. His pink hair is a mess over his eyes when he levels the agent with a heavy stare, shifting off his hips just slightly and gripping the knife.
A stuttering exhale leaves Hoseok’s mouth when Jimin presses the flat end of the blade against Hoseok’s cock, just barely rubbing over the fabric of his pants. Hoseok squirms.
“You’re a nasty son of a bitch,” Jimin laughs, tapping the knife over the growing bulge, finds the indignant flush beginning to stain the agent’s chest fleetingly endearing. “Supposed to catch me but I caught you. ”
“Shit, look who’s talking,” Hoseok grunts, the slightly dazed expression on his face as Jimin taps the knife up against his cock a little harder, one that makes him giggle. Hoseok’s nails are blunt when they scrape down Jimin’s stomach, paused at a faint trail of hair that dips beneath his pants. “You get off on this, too. Sick fuck.”
With one last circular motion, Jimin tosses the knife aside, creeping up Hoseok’s body to loom above him. Hoseok hisses, hips rocking up against Jimin’s in search for friction, fabric catching against their stiff cocks rubbing together.
“You’re wriggling around so much,” Jimin murmurs just above Hoseok’s lips, staring at his face intently before nipping the lower curve, tugging with his teeth. “You that desperate?”
In response Hoseok doesn't say a word, just moves. Sitting up, he’s abrupt in the way he leans in, breathing stilted, swallowing thickly as he brings his mouth to Jimin’s. Kissing him hard, tongue licking inside his mouth, a hand firm around in cupping Jimin’s nape, the other moving forward. Palming the zipper while Jimin works the button of his pants open.
The sound of the zipper is amusingly loud in the silence between their kissing, but also lost in the mingle of their shared groans. Jimin sighs through his nose, eagerly suckling Hoseok’s tongue, then biting the tip of it before he’s pulling back. Breathing fast, hands steady in aiding the agent in lowering his pants down his ass and past his thighs, fabric catching taut around his skin.
It's a blur of hands, a frantic push and pull. Jimin’s pants come down quickly, his underwear following suit just as fast, Hoseok’s fingers impatient as they drag down his skin, nails blunt and scraping down the sides of his ass.
“Fuck, you’re fit.” He breathes, ragged and a little winded. Color tints his face, down his throat and around his chest, a contrast to the way he palms at Jimin’s ass, or the way his lips press against Jimin’s throat, licking up and sucking just beneath his jaw.
Jimin groans low, pressing a hand flat to his chest, shoving Hoseok back an inch. He feels hot all over, a persistent heat licking up his body as the agent trails his gaze down, intent around his chest and dipping low, where his cock rests heavily against his stomach, flushed at the tip and aching to be touched.
“You gonna stare all night or are you gonna find me the lube?”
Again, Hoseok nods. Grunts when Jimin doesn’t make it easy on him to move, ass planted firmly on his lap, his bare cock now rubbing up against his stomach as he ruts, hands planted firmly on the agent’s chest, fingers tightly wrapped around the straps.
It's through grace, or maybe adrenaline, but as they are, Hoseok manages to rifle through a set of drawers beside his bed and procures a condom and a bottle of lube. Half empty and flavored, Jimin notes.
He breathes out a laugh, slow in the way he circles his hips, getting that sweet friction he’s craving, Hoseok his own personal thing to play with. Wild on the outside but pliant once he’s got a pretty thing on top of him.
Jimin takes the bottle of lube from Hoseok and inches closer on Hoseok’s chest, away from where he wants to be touched the most, spreading his legs wider across Hoseok’s body. He pops open the cap and drizzles the lube on his fingers, smelling faint hints of strawberry as he warms up the lube and sets aside the bottle.
His back arches as he reaches behind himself, Hoseok’s heavy gaze following him. Jimin plants his other arm next to the agent.
With his hair framing his face, pink locks draping over his eyes, Jimin presses a finger in, sinking in to the knuckle, adjusting for a better angle and tugging at the rim. Hoseok rests his hands over the tops of Jimin’s thighs, long fingers tracing over the length of sinewy muscle, trailing up and down as Jimin rocks his hips against his hand.
Jimin expels a soft moan, eyes closed and blissed, that single finger working steadily. He groans, impatient in slipping another inside, this time spreading them out, fucking in a little faster.
Hoseok’s hands are steady in the way they move up his thighs and towards his ass, palm warm when it grips, then lands a sudden slap.
“God, finally, some enthusiasm,” Jimin murmurs, head rolling to the side. He blinks slow, peering down at Hoseok as the agent leans into his throat, pressing an open mouthed kiss against it. The agent mouths down his collarbones, tongue pointed as it smooths across his chest, stealing Jimin’s breath. “Here I thought you didn’t actually wanna fuck me. Thought I was taking advantage of you.”
Hoseok scoffs, and Jimin grins when he feels the hard press of his cock against his ass, a crude show of want. “You’re too full of yourself to pay any attention.” Hoseok says, licking teasing circles around one of Jimin’s nipples until he latches on, sucking hard.
Jimin sucks in a sharp breath, momentarily stunted from prepping in order to chase down the feeling of a hot and wet mouth suckling around the hard bud, the sudden scrape of teeth sending a frisson of heat down to his cock.
“Maybe you’re too, ah , slow,” Jimin mumbles back, hips stuttering as he spreads himself wider with two fingers. Hoseok’s tongue laves over his other nipple, scraping his teeth hard enough to draw a low whine out of Jimin. His cock drools precum over Hoseok’s stomach, gleaming in the hard divots of his abdomen.
“Maybe you’re too spoiled,” Hoseok smirks as he bites again, this time tugging Jimin’s nipple until he moans loud, panting against his hair.
Hot skin meeting skin, a touch sweaty from the heat baked in the room, Jimin writhes forward, scissoring his fingers. Arching into the spread of them deep inside, when he feels Hoseok’s hand moving towards his ass, at first gripping the taut skin, then curving in, a slick finger circling the rim.
“Oh,” Jimin whispers, bending at the stomach, arching his ass and pressing his fingers together in order to fit Hoseok inside. “You wanna do it for me, huh? Open me up for your cock?”
Hoseok’s teeth scrape across his shoulder, licking the sweat gathered there. His fingers are wet from lube, but even then, they’re long and thin, sinking inside Jimin with little to no resistance, and keeping him on the cusp of being too full.
“Fuck,” Hoseok groans as he presses in, an excess of lube aiding the glide. Jimin clenches around the fingers inside him, moaning breathy and low, a tremble working up his thighs when Hoseok’s middle finger grazes just shy against the swollen little gland, rubbing In firm circles. “Fuck, that feels good. Tight .”
Jimin’s laugh is much more a series of stuttered exhales rather than sound, his hole wet from lube that drips down his thighs and up against Hoseok’s wrist. He arches, tipping his chin and peering down at the agent, who watches him ride four fingers in nothing short of awe. Palms flat against his chest, fingers wrapped around each black strap held against his body.
“Yeah, s’feels good.” Jimin moans, rocking down. Circling his hips, sinking against those four fingers down to the knuckles, he gasps, lips parting, his prostate already so sensitive. “You even that big for. . . for all these fingers?”
It’s only a taunt, but Hoseok jabs his fingers deeper for a moment, incessantly pressing to the point where Jimin’s legs nearly shake. And then Jimin nudges past Hoseok’s fingers to remove them, other hand fisted in the sheets for balance as he snatches the condom from the side. Almost reluctantly, Hoseok’s fingers slide out, but not before his hand swats at Jimin’s ass and leaves his skin cold with lube.
Lifting himself up a bit, the muscles in his thighs pulled taut, Jimin makes quick work of Hoseok’s belt and the zipper of his pants. The agent even helps by raising his hips and shoving his pants down until Jimin stops him with a hand curled around his cock, groaning low as he’s stroked base to tip. He’s gone untouched this whole time and his hips buck when Jimin swirls his thumb around the leaking head, pressing down against the sensitive skin.
“ Fuck,” Hoseok mumbles, hands down Jimin’s stomach, fingertips scraping down the faint trail of hair that leads right to his cock. He’s still half clothed, minus the tattered shirt in pieces on the floor, some pieces still hanging off the edge of the bed, but they both can’t be bothered to clear off the bed or take all of Hoseok’s clothes off. Jimin rolls the condom over his cock, one hand placed next to Hoseok’s head, seating himself in the agent’s lap.
Jimin shudders, lips parting on a groan, the hand around Hoseok’s cock tightening, then dipping low, circling down the shaft and jerking tight. “You’re just so sly, hm? Think i don’t notice what you’ve been hiding?” He murmurs, staring at the agent dead on, intense and heavy.
The tip of his cock grazing just beneath Jimin’s perineum, a breath away from sinking inside, Hoseok stills. Breathes hard, a flush coloring his cheeks, hair falling over his eyes. “What?” He grits, gaze hardening with suspicion. “Jimin—“
Jimin leans in as though he’s going for a kiss, tipping his chin. Lips soft, he skims teeth across Hoseok’s jaw, subtly rubbing his cock against the agent’s taut stomach, high off the feel of all this hot and sweat slick skin under him, waiting for him. He feels Hoseok moan when the tip of his tongue traces under his ear, then slides up, dipping in and pressing against it— the earpiece.
“Aren’t you all just so disgusting , listening in,” he purrs, a husky laugh leaving his lips and echoing against hoseok’s ear. “Are you nasty, Hoseokie? Letting your team hear how you’ll fuck me?”
There’s a sudden silence save for Hoseok’s labored breathing, before he nods. Displeased he’s been caught maybe, Jimin thinks, only to be corrected when he hears a very blunt, “Fuck you, hyung. He didn’t catch me.”
Jimin hums, but doesn’t let whatever conversation that's going on behind the scenes continue, instead moving to slip the small earpiece out of the agent's ear and into his own. There’s static, followed by a short crackle before Jimin can hear anything, and yet he doesn’t pause. Keeps a steady hand around Hoseok’s cock, stroking it nice and fast, stealing more lovey sounds past his pretty lips.
“Sounds to me like he caught you good, Hoseok-ah,” comes through the ear-piece, and Jimin grins. Grips a free hand around Hoseok’s harness, holding steadily as he grinds his ass against Hoseok’s cock, teasing the tip by letting it rest heavily between his asscheeks. “This wasn’t part of the plan,” the man speaking to Hoseok says, his voice pitched low and with a slight accent, just the right kind.
“Your plan was flawed from the get-go,” Jimin croons, and the agent listening in on him pauses, a stuttered curse leaving his lips. “Brought him right into my hands. A gift, I see.”
“Is that what your type calls taking what ain’t yours? A gift?”
Jimin sighs, head tipping back as he swallows hard, throat working. Hoseok’s hand fists around his cock, steadily spreading the precome gathered at the tip almost lazily, as though now that he’s been truly caught, he’s in no rush.
“Hmm—oh I’d say he’s mine right now,” Jimin says, cocking an eyebrow as he gazes down to find Hoseok leaning in to press a series of kisses against Jimin’s chest. “What’s your name, handsome? You sound fun .”
Hoseok grunts, the tip of his cock pressed taut to the rim, barely inside. “He’s not.”
There’s an affronted noise in response; Jimin smirks, holding himself up, breathing slow. The agent takes his time in answering, and so Jimin decides to make it easier for him. Liven things up a bit.
He moans hard, then sinks down on Hoseok’s fat cock. “Fuck—Hoseok, Fuck.”
“I—“ a sharp intake of breath mingling with Hoseok’s, the agent says abruptly, “Min. My men call me Min, but you can call me Yoongi.”
“ Yoongi ,” Jimin gasps, holding the base of Hoseok’s cock steady as he sinks further down, his hole clenching tightly around the thick shaft. “Yoongi. . . i bet you’d feel good in me, too.”
There’s silence on the other line, only static resounding in their ears, and that’s when Jimin pulls out of range of the earpiece, tossing it aside. He rocks his hips once he’s bottomed out on Hoseok’s cock, both hands reaching for the agent to hold the straps across his chest. Hoseok’s hands grip Jimin’s thighs, squeezing, dimpling the skin underneath his fingers.
Jimin laughs breathily, circling his hips before raising up and rocking back down, punching a ragged moan from Hoseok’s mouth. Hoseok’s cock so full inside him, that the tip catches on the rim on the pull off before he sinks back down. Jimin grins, fingers tangling in the agent's hair and tugging up, holding him close. “Yoongi a good fuck, too?”
Hoseok scowls, and in response, wraps both hands around Jimin’s ass, nudges his hips up and slams in, seating his cock deep inside, down to the base. Every nerve ending on Jimin’s body seizes up, stock still as he tries not to squirm; Hoseok won’t get the best of him.
“Yeah? He’s nothing special.” Hoseok mutters, slow as he drags his cock out, the fingers on Jimin’s ass squeezing tightly. Enough to bruise once morning comes. “Nothing like me.”
“Aren’t you so— Hhh —full of yourself,” Jimin breathes high, hands sliding low on Hoseok’s stomach, pressing against it as he rocks up, pitching forward on Hoseok’s cock, starting up a steady rhythm, because while Hoseok is in no rush, Jimin certainly is.
Jimin fucks himself harder, beginning to feel the strain in his thighs from being here for so long. But Hoseok digs his nails into his skin, letting out muffled grunts he’s trying to keep down because of the earpiece, but they’re both working on a rhythm of their own, hips moving in tandem. Precum drips from Jimin’s cock and he bounces faster, breath hitching when he tugs his cock to the rhythm. Wisps of pink drape over Jimin’s eyes and he throws his head back, exposing the line of his body, abdomen clenching with each bounce. And Hoseok’s hand comes down, the sudden slap against the underside of his throbbing cock one that makes Jimin dizzy.
Makes him crave it again, that dull sting coupled with rough thrusts that jostle him against the agent’s lap, their bodies drenched in sweat and smelling of sex. He’s getting a little sloppy now, both of them so high strung from the tension that’s lasted all night, slamming down on Hoseok until all he focuses on is getting off.
“Not g-gonna break,” Jimin rasps, one of Hoseok’s hands now placed against his hip, thumbing the smooth skin spread over the sharp bone. He fists at the straps again, hand moving away from his cock. “Gonna’ have to — fuck — work harder than t-that.”
Hoseok stares through half-lidded eyes and brings his hand across Jimin’s cock once more, slapping hard enough for Jimin to jolt, loud moan piercing the air. “Doesn’t look like it’ll take much.”
Jimin clenches tight around Hoseok as the feeling in his groin intensifies into a blazing heat that curls around his cock and seizes him. Hips jerking through a sudden orgasm that has him trembling, Jimin cries out, thick drops of cum slicking down the base and falling against the ridge of Hoseok’s fingers and down his wrist.
He doesn’t collapse even as the pressure around his dick begins to wane. No, pride has Jimin keeping himself up on his arms, eyes shut as he comes down from the bliss of an orgasm, spine arched and body pliant as Hoseok keeps thrusting. Jimin doesn’t move much, just rocks his hips down, gripping Hoseok tight as the agent wraps his hands around Jimin’s torso and plants his feet on the mattress, an almost wild rhythm to him now as he fucks in hard.
“ Mm , using me to get off?” Jimin pants, but a smile makes its way to his lips. He leans forward on his arms more, one hand stroking the hair away from Hoseok’s face before his body is jostled by Hoseok’s rough thrusts.
“ Fuck yeah I am ,” Hoseok whispers, a fat bead of sweat trailing down his forehead. He curls a hand around Jimin’s jaw, tips it low and then slides his fingers into his mouth, slick with his own cum for him to suck clean, loose fingers holding his jaw tightly.
Time kind of blurs over Jimin’s head, alarmingly silent save for the occasional whimper up against Hoseok’s fingers, and it gives Jimin this serene kind of whiplash. Drives him dizzy, but centers his core. Having a thick cock stuffing him full, thrusts increasing, watching Hoseok go from stagnantly letting Jimin have his way with him to getting worked up to where he fucks him wild, all but smothering him with the force of how hard his hips slap against the underside of Jimin’s ass.
Hoseok’s starting to lose the rhythm. He’s less calculated, not focused on keeping himself quiet anymore, just using Jimin to get off. He’s getting louder, letting out a string of curses until he suddenly grabs Jimin’s waist and yanks him off his cock, a shift from being full for this long.
Jimin casts a glance over his shoulder and watches Hoseok all but rip off the condom and tug once, and then twice, before ropes of cum are clinging to Jimin’s ass. But Hoseok rocks his hips between his cheeks, entire body pulled taut as he comes down from his high, groaning as Jimin rubs back on his sensitive cock for the sake of being mean.
“Fuck,” Hoseok huffs on the comedown, resting limp on the bed, arms wrapped around either side of Jimin’s waist. He shifts, breathing ragged and hot, inexplicably tender in comparison to the way he fucked Jimin’s lights out for a moment.
Jimin simpers in response, always soft fo the ones who go easy once they’ve gotten what they want, carding his fingers through the agent’s sweat dampened hair. “Cat got your tongue again, Hoseokie ?”
Hoseok grumbles a curse, tightening his grip around Jimin for a few seconds. “Fuck you,” He mutters, a lazy lilt to his voice, a touch hoarse. “You’re way too fucking smug.”
Jimin wriggles in Hoseok’s lap, inching him away until they’re able to stare at each other, a grin curving the edge of his lips. “You did fuck me,” he hums, lowering his body over Hoseok’s until they’re chest to chest. “At the museum, you said you wanted to broaden my horizons. Surely there’s more to see.”
Hoseok’s breath hitches in his throat when Jimin’s hand sneaks between their bodies, gripping him tight in his fist. But Jimin still smiles, gaze flickering to the wall of windows curiously. Where the city lights still glow, traffic in the streets underneath them.
Catching on, Hoseok furrows his brows but manages a breathy chuckle, more out of disbelief than anything. It stops short when Jimin flicks his wrist once, Hoseok’s hips jerking and his teeth gritting.
Jimin directs his attention back to Hoseok. Hovers above his face with his pink hair in his twinkling eyes, lips brushing. “Once you’re hard, you’re going to really show me what you’re capable of.”
There’s a steady stream of sunlight peering through the thin curtains inside the bedroom that piss Hoseok off on a normal day, nevermind on a day where he’s loaded with exhaustion and a lack of proper sleep.
Groaning, stiff around his neck, shoulders and back, he turns in bed, attempting to shy away from the sudden bright lights in his room, only to realize that where he’d felt inexplicably hot with another body pressed close against his, there's now a lingering coolness. Jimin’s side of the bed empty.
At first it doesn’t register as anything out of the ordinary for Hoseok, and he drifts off, curled against his pillows and yawning, but when it does —seeing as Jimin isn’t just an ordinary one night stand, but in fact, someone with much worse intentions— he jolts up, nearly falling off the bed in his wake.
The room seems to spin once he comes to a stand, but Hoseok doesn’t pay it much mind, doesn’t even bother covering his indecency as he stumbles out of the bedroom, dreading what he’ll find.
It’s clear Jimin has left, given the fact that not a single piece of his clothes or various weapons can be found, nevermind the man himself. It’s as though he never stepped a foot inside the penthouse, which Hoseok would assume so, were it not for the red welts decorating his lower back and ass from the night before.
He’s ambling through his home, already thinking of just what he’ll tell Yoongi, and their superiors, when he comes to a dead halt inside the living room.
The painting Jimin has been set to steal, the reason he’d ever planned a heis , and as such been such a hot target for them to bring down, was all for this painting, and yet, there it is on Hoseok’s walls, untouched.
The same can’t be said for everything else, however. Jimin took the liberty of helping himself to the few pieces of art displayed around Hoseok’s living room, including smaller canvases, a prized vase and some of his pricey liquor off the shelf, too. Even the glasses they shattered last night in their chase have been swept up.
“Motherfucker,” he mumbles, a touch awestruck that all this has happened and he’d been none the wiser, yes, but more so surprised that Jimin hadn’t taken what he’d really come for in the first place.
Hoseok runs a hand through his hair, bemused as he laughs. He heads into the kitchen in order to make sure nothing else is missing when he finds it. A note left on the counter, just under an empty glass of whiskey in carefully written scrawl; a pink lipstick stain smudged against the glass as though Jimin enjoyed a drink before he left.
The paper is pink, of all colors, and Hoseok groans, reading it out loud.
“ I hope you don’t mind that I took some things for the road, pretty boy. Thanks for showing me such a good time. P.S, ” Hoseok breathes, a smile in his voice, “ See you soon. ”