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The entire police station knew exactly what was coming the moment they heard the sharp click of Park Jimin’s heeled shoes striking the floor.

Poor prosecutor Kim Seokjin, who had only been assigned to Gangnam a month ago, would have never gotten involved with those two if he had heard of Park Jimin’s reputation. But this was the price of not listening to the warnings.

Park Jimin was one of Seoul’s most famous lawyers—perhaps the most famous. No one wanted to face him in court; everyone wanted him as their representative. It wasn’t just because of his razor-sharp intellect, his venomous tongue, or his photographic memory. It was also because he possessed an otherworldly beauty—so mesmerizing that not a single person in Seoul had ever seen him in person without falling in love. Some even speculated that judges intentionally prolonged cases just to gaze at him a little longer.

Kim Seokjin hadn’t fallen for that trap. He hadn’t been deceived by Park Jimin’s beauty or his flirtatious glances. But he also hadn’t realized that Jimin’s most lethal weapon was not his face, but his tongue.

When Jimin strolled through the courthouse in his striking red suit—fully aware of the attention he commanded—Seokjin had doubted that this gorgeous creature could be as ruthless as people claimed. He assumed the rumors were just exaggerations from those too dazzled by his looks. But no—he was completely wrong.

And soon, the moment Park Jimin licked his lips before stepping out of the prosecutor’s office—without even bothering to close the door—everyone would know. He would leave behind nothing but a wreck of a man, struggling to loosen his tie just to breathe.

Jimin crossed one leg over the other, setting his custom-made leather briefcase on his lap instead of the floor, as if placing it at his feet was unthinkable. His gaze landed on the man across from him—who was carefully aligning his Mont Blanc pen with the stacks of files on his desk.

Of course, Jimin had already heard about the newly assigned Gangnam prosecutor, Kim Seokjin, whose record was nothing short of stellar. The moment Seokjin’s transfer was decided, the little birds eager to keep Jimin informed had practically lined up to bring him the news—before Seokjin himself even knew.

By the time Kim Seokjin set foot in Gangnam, Park Jimin had already been lying in his quiet penthouse, reviewing the prosecutor’s file with a knowing smirk. The city skyline stretched before him, and beside him, his lover dozed peacefully, his soft breaths mingling with the night air.

Unlike Seokjin, Jimin knew exactly who he was dealing with. He had ordered his men to gather every single case Seokjin had worked on—even the ones dating back to law school. He had memorized the patterns, the strategies, the hunting style of this tall, broad-shouldered man with cherry lips. Meanwhile, Seokjin had nothing but a handful of rumors about Jimin.

To his credit, Seokjin had done his homework. Like every prosecutor assigned to Gangnam, he had attempted what many before him had tried—building a case against Jimin’s client. But Gangnam prosecutors always faced the same problem: no witnesses, no informants, no solid evidence.

Park Jimin saw through every bluff, walked effortlessly through every trap, and got cases dismissed before they even reached the courtroom.

The Mockingbird always worked clean.

“Prosecutor Kim,” Jimin said, wetting his lips slightly before speaking, “could you explain why my client is still in custody?”

But the same could not be said for his client.

And that was exactly what infuriated Jimin.

He had done everything to keep his client far away from the courthouse, yet the fool still managed to get himself arrested over something so trivial.

Speeding in a school zone with his new toy.

Come on.

Jimin had warned him repeatedly to follow the rules, to avoid even the smallest trouble. Not even a minor traffic ticket should appear on his record. If anyone ever made an accusation against him, they should be met with a perfectly clean history. But it seemed like his client had no intention of listening. How could he make such a simple mistake? Did he really think saving his pretty ass was that easy?

“Counselor, your client exceeded the speed limit in a school zone,” said the prosecutor, interlacing his long fingers and placing them on the table, causing one of Jimin’s perfectly shaped eyebrows to lift slightly.

“You can’t arrest someone for that,” he replied carefully.

He was more interested in what his client had actually done. Even if the man in front of him was a prosecutor, he couldn’t detain someone for something this minor. A simple fine would have been the only consequence, and it wasn’t even worth Jimin’s valuable time.

“Yes, but I can arrest him for assaulting a prosecutor,” Kim Seokjin countered, raising an eyebrow just like Jimin and tilting his head slightly to the side.

Assaulting a prosecutor? This man was going to drive Jimin insane. Truly, he was going to make him lose his mind. When would he ever learn? How could he make such a reckless mistake? There were already dozens of people looking for a chance to take him down, and yet he had been careless enough to give them one.

“I’m sure this is just a misunderstanding.” Jimin’s voice remained remarkably calm. Not for a single moment did he doubt whether his client was foolish enough to actually do something like this. He was absolutely certain. Because even if he didn’t care about anything or anyone, he feared Jimin just a little. And he knew that if he had truly done something like this, Jimin would kill him with his bare hands. The fact that Prosecutor Kim Seokjin was testing him, trying to lower his guard, was a far more likely possibility. But if Seokjin thought he could trap Jimin this easily, it would be a grave mistake on the prosecutor’s part.

“The assault was directed at me, Mr. Park. Of course, I can understand that better than anyone,” he said. He had done his homework well. But he shouldn’t overlook the fact that Jimin was also a diligent student. There was a reason why he had graduated at the top of his class from law school.

What he had just heard made Jimin’s lips curl into a seductive yet dangerously sharp smile. “But there’s something I don’t quite understand, Prosecutor. Since when do prosecutors conduct traffic stops?”

“Your client was simply making things difficult for the officers doing their job. I happened to be passing by and witnessed the situation, Counselor,” explained Prosecutor Kim, speaking in a tone that was condescending enough to irritate Jimin further, though of course, he wouldn’t let it show. And it wasn’t like Seokjin particularly enjoyed Jimin’s attitude either.

“So, you used your authority to intervene in something you merely witnessed, is that right?” Jimin’s voice, to someone who didn’t know him, would have sounded almost innocent.

“Do you see an issue with that?”

“I don’t see an issue. I just find it interesting. A newly appointed prosecutor in Gangnam just happens to come across my client in traffic and requests that the officers escorting him pull over his vehicle. Then, he claims my client attacked him and has him detained. What an eye-catching headline for the newspapers, don’t you think? And quite the golden opportunity for you, of course—the prosecutor who managed to put one of Korea’s most powerful businessmen behind bars. What a wonderful way to add a bit of fame to your already shining name.”

“What exactly are you accusing me of?” Seokjin asked, thinking he had caught something. “I could have you sitting right next to your client for these words.”

“Don’t misunderstand me, Prosecutor. I’m simply pointing out how this situation might look from the outside. But since the press doesn’t seem to have caught wind of it yet, I suppose there’s nothing to worry about, right?”

The truth was, getting the journalists to report on this was just one small message away for Jimin. If he wished, he could have dozens of articles written about the newly appointed prosecutor—accusations ranging from abuse of power to involvement in various corrupt dealings. Even if Seokjin hadn’t considered this before, he would have to be a complete fool not to realize it now.

“Where are you going with this?” Prosecutor Kim seemed slightly confused. Was Jimin subtly threatening him, or was he simply pointing out that the media had yet to get involved and damage his client’s reputation? It was difficult to tell. Such an incident would certainly not be well received by the public.

Now, Seokjin could see that the man in front of him was exactly as they had described—every rumor about him was true. He had nearly been fooled by that angelic face. Nearly. But Seokjin had finally caught the glint of danger in Jimin’s eyes, even if it was a little late.

“Do you have a witness?” Jimin’s words were sharp, like a freshly sharpened blade, capable of drawing blood with a single, precise cut. The size of the wound didn’t matter—what mattered was where he struck. And in that, Jimin was exceptionally skilled. When it came to making mountains out of molehills, no one did it better than him.

“Remember who you’re talking to, Mr. Park!” the prosecutor warned from across the desk, his frustration evident. Jimin was accusing him of dishonesty, of abusing his power, and Seokjin would never allow that. His record had been impeccable—both brilliant and spotless—and he wouldn’t let anyone stain it.

“Is there a witness who saw my client attack you, Prosecutor?” Jimin repeated, his tone unwavering. He had instantly sensed that he had hit a nerve. Not that he needed to be Mockingbird to figure it out—anyone with a bit of intelligence could tell that a man with such a pristine record would be highly sensitive about his reputation.

“Are you implying that my word is unreliable?”

“Of course not, far from it,” he responded sweetly. Yet his gaze was laced with venom. “On the contrary, I merely wish to know if there’s a witness who can describe the incident besides yourself. Naturally, I want to confirm exactly how my client supposedly attacked you.”

“Why? So you can get rid of them?” Prosecutor Kim shot back. And that was exactly what Jimin had wanted.

“What are you accusing us of, Prosecutor? Or do you perhaps have a personal vendetta against my client? Did you provoke him into attacking you? Why was my client stopped in the first place? According to the system records I checked, he exceeded the speed limit by a very small margin—an amount that isn’t even detectable to the naked eye. Was he really stopped for that, or was it because of your personal hostility toward him? Did you order his vehicle to be pulled over?”

“Do you realize what you’re insinuating, Counselor?” Prosecutor Kim Seokjin’s voice rose slightly.

“Of course I do, Prosecutor. Why was my client stopped without a valid reason? If everything happened as you claim, I would like to take the statement of the officer my client allegedly obstructed. Before he supposedly attacked you, I need to understand exactly how he interfered with the officer’s duties, don’t I?”

“Your client refused to present the requested documents to the officer on duty.” Ah, the usual nonsense with registration papers.

“Did the officer on duty present their own identification to my client? As you’re surely aware, these days, anyone can impersonate a police officer. My client had every right to request identification. Until proper credentials were provided, he was under no obligation to hand over documents containing his personal information. As you well know, my client is a respected and honorable businessman—he has many competitors. Who’s to say they wouldn’t use a scheme like this to harm him?”

“What exactly are you trying to imply, Mr. Park? That I, too, abused my authority?” Jimin could see the prosecutor’s ears turning red. He was getting exactly what he wanted—rattling the man. The angrier the prosecutor became, the more likely he was to act rashly, which would lead him straight into Jimin’s trap. Jimin had seen it before; he knew how this played out.

“Of course not, Prosecutor. Without evidence or a witness, I certainly wouldn’t dare accuse you of such a thing, would I? I’m merely doing my duty, ensuring that my client’s rights are protected.”

“From where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re just stalling for time with empty words,” Seokjin shot back. Well, he wasn’t wrong—Jimin was stalling. Meanwhile, his people had already begun scouring security footage, working to provide him with a detailed report of exactly what had transpired. At the same time, Jimin was buying time to prevent the prosecutor from taking any further immediate action.

“Stalling for time?” Jimin let his gaze sweep over the prosecutor’s face, knowing full well that he was suffocating him. Then, he smiled. “On the contrary, I would call this a waste of time, Prosecutor. While my client is unjustly detained in an uncomfortable holding cell, every minute we spend talking here is a loss for us.”

“You want me to release your client?” Kim Seokjin asked mockingly. Even though Jimin wasn’t particularly fond of his tone, it would take more than a young and admittedly handsome prosecutor to make him lose his composure.

“No, Prosecutor. Since you are still sitting here, perfectly unharmed—” Jimin raised his fingers, making air quotes, “—without any physical injury, I believe this was simply a conversation that was misinterpreted. Therefore, I am not making a request of you. Rather, since there is no certainty that the officer on duty fulfilled their obligations, I know that you cannot legally keep my client in custody.”

“And how can you be so sure that the officer didn’t show his identification, Mr. Park?” Seokjin’s slight sneer as he pronounced Jimin’s name would ensure that Jimin no longer saw him as just a fleeting amusement—but rather, as a true adversary.

“My client, a highly respected businessman, is intelligent enough to know better than to obstruct an officer on duty,” Jimin replied, forcing himself not to grimace. “Now, tell me, Prosecutor, if the so-called officer on duty had already issued a traffic citation electronically, why did they need to pull my client over in the first place?”

“Just like you’re certain that your client wouldn’t attack a prosecutor?” Seokjin countered, deliberately ignoring Jimin’s last words. He was trying to corner him, just as Jimin had done to him.

Jimin simply nodded sweetly in response. He was well aware of the effect his beauty had on people. “Yes, Prosecutor,” he confirmed smoothly. “That is exactly what I believe.”

“And yet, your client did exactly that.” Seokjin was determined not to be affected by Jimin’s arrogance, despite the infuriating smirk on his face. He was doing everything in his power to avoid falling into Jimin’s trap, but from Jimin’s perspective, he was only delaying the inevitable.

“Let’s assume such an unfortunate incident did take place,” Jimin said, his voice dangerously smooth. “In that case, I would like to file a complaint on behalf of my client for unlawful detainment, illegal search, and the financial and emotional damages he has suffered as a result of this series of events. After all, the twenty-four hours my client is expected to spend here must be compensated. This so-called misunderstanding between you two is costing my client far more than you seem to realize, and those responsible must be held accountable in the eyes of the law. Wouldn’t you agree, Prosecutor?”

Kim Seokjin hadn’t been prepared to deal with someone like Jimin. He realized now that he had made a mistake by underestimating him, and it was clear that the man before him had come well-prepared. Like anyone with a shred of intelligence—and perhaps because he was beginning to feel cornered himself—he decided to put an end to their verbal sparring, at least for now. Still, he made sure to send Jimin off with a veiled warning before dismissing him from his office.

For now, Seokjin would be the one to retreat. But both of them knew that despite his weak first attack, Kim Seokjin’s second move would be far more devastating.

As Jimin clicked his heels against the courthouse floors, heading toward the stairs leading to the holding cells, Kim Seokjin had already begun constructing a case against him and his client in his mind. And, as much as he hated to admit it, Park Jimin had been right about one thing—this truly was an extraordinary opportunity for his career.

***

As Jimin descended the stairs leading to the holding cells, he could hear the echo of his own footsteps. Whether it was due to the eerie silence or the fact that everyone down there already knew he was coming, he wasn’t sure. The moment he had stepped out of the prosecutor’s office, word had undoubtedly spread—The Mockingbird had dismantled the prosecutor and was now heading to the detention area. But even if no one had informed them, they would have known just from the sound of his heels striking the ground, from the way the very air seemed to shift when he walked.

Yoongi, too, recognized those footsteps immediately. He spread his legs slightly, shifting his stance before rising smoothly to his feet. His bony fingers were stuffed into the pockets of his tailored suit pants, and his dark hair, slightly disheveled from running his hands through it, fell over his forehead. His tie had been discarded, draped over the metal bars of his cell, and a few buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing the pale stretch of his collarbone. He looked a little unkempt, but he knew—oh, he knew—that his lawyer would like that. Yoongi was crafted for Jimin’s taste, after all. He was well aware that once Jimin got him out of here, the moment they slipped into the backseat of the limousine—because, of course, Yoongi loved a bit of luxury—Jimin would slide his hand between his legs and whisper filth into his ear. And Yoongi? He’d slouch lower into the seat, spreading his legs apart just enough to let Jimin’s small fingers work their magic.

And then…

Right before Jimin appeared at the door, Yoongi strolled to the bars with slow, deliberate steps. One hand slid out of his pocket and rested against the cold metal as he leaned casually. His hair was longer than usual, in need of a trim, casting shadows over his sharp eyes. Longer than usual, yes, but Yoongi wasn’t in any hurry—Jimin loved tugging on it when he was between his legs, moaning his name into the dark.

“Attacking a prosecutor, huh?” Jimin’s voice was the first thing to greet him. His sharp gaze raked over Yoongi, taking in his appearance with a practiced, critical eye before a carefully manufactured smile curved his lips. He stepped closer, stopping just on the other side of the bars.

“Did you know?” Yoongi said, ignoring the question entirely. He wasn’t trying to frustrate Jimin—well, not too much—but he had to admit, that red suit was a distraction. It was his favorite, after all. Every time he saw Jimin in it, all he could think about was throwing him over his lap and spanking him until his ass matched the color of his clothes. They both enjoyed that quite a bit. “Every time you come to get me out of here, you somehow look even more irresistible.”

Despite the metal bars between them, Jimin leaned in, tilting his head just so, as if he were about to kiss him. Instead, he placed his hands against the bars, mirroring Yoongi’s posture, and hissed, “Do you really think this is the time for your nonsense?”

Oh, but for Yoongi, it was the perfect time. He had been bored before Jimin arrived, keeping himself entertained with fantasies of being in his new car’s driver’s seat, imagining Jimin’s warm mouth wrapped around him. He had known exactly how Jimin would storm into the room, the look in his eyes when they locked onto his. Just as surely as he knew that in the password-protected elevator ride up to his penthouse, Jimin’s hands would be all over him, and by the time they reached the bedroom, the only thing left on him would be those high-heeled shoes he loved so much.

He wanted to feel them pressing against his back while he devoured Jimin’s sweet little hole.

“You have no idea how badly I want you right now,” Yoongi murmured, biting his lip and closing his eyes for a brief moment. “Good thing it won’t take long to get home after this.”

“Shut up,” Jimin snapped, rolling his eyes. He didn’t wait for Yoongi to meet his gaze again before continuing, “We have more important matters to discuss right now.”

“Why, baby?” Yoongi teased, disregarding his words entirely. “I thought you liked the way I use my mouth.” He pulled his other hand from his pocket and placed it over Jimin’s.

“Right now, I want you to use it differently.”

“Forget it. Just tell them to let me out of here so we can go home and I can use it exactly how you like.”

Jimin reached out, gripping Yoongi’s chin between his fingers and tilting his head slightly to the side, lowering his voice as he leaned in. “Do you want me to fuck your mouth? Because I promise, I’ll do it the moment I get you out of here.”

A quiet hum rumbled in Yoongi’s throat as he turned his face toward Jimin, eyes flickering with something dark and hungry. He knew exactly what he was doing, cutting him off like that—Jimin hated being interrupted. “I’ve missed your taste,” he purred. His fingers traced slow, lazy circles over Jimin’s knuckles, while his other hand reached up, gently capturing his sharp little chin. Lifting it just enough to make Jimin’s lips part slightly, he let his gaze linger there for a second before locking eyes with him. “I’ll slip my fingers into your ass while you’re on my tongue. You like it when I do that, don’t you?”

Jimin exhaled through his nose, lips curling slightly. “I’ll make sure you can’t breathe,” he whispered back, deliberately mimicking Yoongi’s tone. “You know that, don’t you?”

“A beautiful way to take my breath away. But you know, baby, your tiny fingers won’t be enough for that.” Yoongi had an undeniable weakness for Jimin’s short fingers—so much so that he wanted to take them between his lips right then and there, in the middle of the detention center, uncaring about the iron bars separating them. He wanted to show Jimin exactly how to use them on him.

“Yoongi-ssi,” Jimin murmured, tilting his head slightly. “You always make the same mistake—you keep underestimating me.”

“You said that last night too, baby,” Yoongi reminded him, lowering his voice to a teasing whisper, “but when I had you pressed up against that glass wall, you were about to collapse into my lap.”

Jimin’s brow twitched slightly in irritation, but before he could respond, Yoongi leaned in just enough to make his breath ghost over Jimin’s ear. “You love it, don’t you? Being fucked for the whole city to see? You want them to watch, to know how beautiful you are when you’re coming undone. And you know what? I like it too. Knowing they’ll never have you the way I do… it turns me on.”

“You’re overconfident.”

“Have you forgotten everything we’ve been through? Do you need me to remind you that no one else can give you what I do?”

Ah, but Jimin had never forgotten. He knew—oh, he knew very well—that no one else could ever satisfy him the way Yoongi did. He had tried, back when they had just started working together, before he realized what he truly wanted. In those early days—right after Yoongi had agreed to spend the night with him—Jimin had been with others, but none of them, not a single one, had come close to what Yoongi had done to him that night.

Even though Jimin was still in his mid-twenties at the time, a fresh-faced young lawyer, his sharp mind and breathtaking beauty had already made him the talk of the legal world. Some thought he was too ambitious, taking on cases far beyond his years, but in every courtroom he entered, he shattered expectations. He had first caught widespread attention when he won a class-action lawsuit against a powerful pharmaceutical company, drawing the eyes of some of the most influential people in the country.

Yoongi had been one of them.

At the time, however, Yoongi had been overseas, and by the time he returned, Jimin had already built himself an impressive fortune. Despite the high-profile names Jimin had represented, Yoongi had never let him out of his sights. And when he took over his father’s empire, the first thing he did was seek out Jimin, determined to have him on his side.

A few years back, Yoongi had made Jimin an offer to work for him. But nothing Yoongi proposed—no amount of money, no property, no luxury—was enough to tempt him. Jimin wasn’t the type to be easily swayed.

And so, Yoongi, ever the strategist, had told him he could have anything. Anything at all.

Jimin had merely smiled and made an offer Yoongi couldn’t refuse.

After a particularly wet, intense, and downright filthy night together, their business agreement had been sealed. At the time, Jimin had thought he had cut off whatever underlying tension had crackled between them from the moment they first met.

But, oh, he had been wrong.

So wrong.

Back then, when he first realized it, he had laughed. He had thought it was ridiculous. But the truth was undeniable—after Yoongi, no one else had ever been able to make him feel that way again.

“You bastard,” Jimin had growled back then, storming toward Yoongi with clenched fists. “What did you do to me?”

Despite Jimin’s impressive skills in self-defense, it had taken Yoongi only a few seconds to subdue him. One moment, Jimin had been preparing to throw a punch; the next, he found himself pinned against the wall, arms twisted behind his back. Yoongi, ever the sadist, had laughed—a deep, amused laugh that only infuriated Jimin further. Then, with deliberate slowness, he had pressed his hips against Jimin’s ass, those plush curves he still hadn’t had enough of.

And from that moment on, what had started as a relationship built on ending the night in bed had grown, evolved, and flourished into something the world could only envy—a passion so undeniable, so consuming, that people spoke of them in hushed whispers, both in admiration and jealousy.

“You remember that night, don’t you?” Yoongi murmured, dragging the tip of his tongue along the shell of Jimin’s ear before wetting his lips. “Baby, you were so fucking tight. I can still hear your moans, the way you screamed when I stretched you open.”

“I remember,” Jimin responded, his fingers slipping into the soft strands of Yoongi’s hair, twisting slightly as he let his nails rake through them. Neither of them cared that they were giving the officer standing nearby, as well as the other detainee in the cell, an intimate show. “I also remember you being slow as hell, like some inexperienced brat.”

“Slow, hard, and deep,” Yoongi corrected, enunciating each word with a dark rasp, ensuring Jimin remembered exactly what he meant. “And you can’t deny you love it.”

Fuck, he was right.

Jimin loved all of it—the way they clawed at each other, the frantic pace at which Yoongi pounded into him, the way his sweet spot was mercilessly abused over and over. But nothing, absolutely nothing, ruined him more than those slow, deep, earth-shattering thrusts. The kind that made him shake. The kind that made his entire body convulse with pleasure.

A shudder ran through him, his breath hitching as the phantom sensation of Yoongi’s touch swept over him. He licked his lips, swallowing hard, but Yoongi, of course, caught the slight tremor in his gaze. A wicked grin curled onto Yoongi’s lips—the same look he always gave Jimin when he was on his knees, ready to take him deep into that sinful mouth of his.

“Baby, I’m going to fuck that tight little hole of yours so well tonight.”

And oh, Jimin wanted that.

After getting Yoongi out of here, after punishing that filthy mouth of his for saying such obscene things in front of all these people, Jimin would make him sit back, stretch his arms over the couch, and watch as the city Yoongi ruled lay sprawled at their feet—while Jimin, the real master of this empire, rode him into oblivion.

“Ah, yes,” Jimin nearly purred, biting his lip hard enough to make Yoongi’s eyelid twitch. “But for that to happen, you have to get out of here first.”

“My love,” Yoongi smirked, tilting his head, “I know you’ve already handled it. I know you made that prosecutor regret ever being born. Now let’s go home so we can take care of… business.”

If there weren’t bars between them, Yoongi would have yanked Jimin into his lap, placed his hands on those perfect ass cheeks, and helped him grind down onto his lap. He would have teased him, played with him, made him beg—right here, in front of everyone, because no one else mattered.

“What if I told you you’re spending the night here?” Jimin asked, taking a step back, creating some distance between them. Yoongi’s brows furrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face before he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“I know you,” Yoongi sighed, rolling his eyes. “I know your victory walk—or rather, your victory scent.” His tongue darted out briefly, sweeping along the corner of his lips before his eyes roamed over Jimin’s frame with raw hunger. The sight before him was enough to drive him mad, but he didn’t need to say a word. Jimin already knew. “Come on, tell them to let me out.”

Jimin approached the bars again, lifting his fingers—fingertips that Yoongi loved sucking into his mouth when waking him up—to his lips, letting the faintly sweet aroma of his flavored lip balm transfer to them. Then, he pressed them against Yoongi’s lips.

“Mr. Min,” he murmured as Yoongi’s tongue darted out to taste his fingers, “we’ll see each other later.”

And just like that, Jimin pulled away.

Yoongi ran his tongue along his lips, savoring the taste left behind, but the words—those damn words—along with Jimin turning his back and actually leaving, had Yoongi’s eyes widening in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” he barked, brows knitting together.

But Jimin didn’t even glance back.

Yoongi found himself pressing against the bars, watching him go, irritation bubbling inside him.

The others in the holding cell, just as stunned as Yoongi, remained silent as they watched Jimin’s graceful yet ruthless departure. And as he left, Yoongi’s expression—one of sheer, unfiltered incredulity—was something Jimin would savor for a long, long time.

The man feared by an entire city, the one whose name sent shivers down people’s spines, looked—if only for a fleeting moment—like nothing more than a whimpering, abandoned puppy.

And Jimin would relish that sight for as long as he pleased.

Jimin knew they would be releasing Yoongi soon. Once he was sure Yoongi wouldn’t see him, he had given instructions for them to send him straight to the parking lot. There, he would be waiting, sitting comfortably in the back seat of their luxury car, legs crossed elegantly over one another, the divider between him and the driver already drawn up. A smug smile graced his lips, one that seemed like it would never fade, as he envisioned what was about to happen.

Even though he wouldn’t see Yoongi’s initial reaction upon realizing he had been played, Jimin could picture it perfectly. First, he would laugh—maybe even throw his head back in amusement. Then, his expression would shift, brows knitting together as he shook his head, muttering Jimin’s name under his breath. By the time he reached the parking lot, his mind would already be racing with ways to punish Jimin for this little stunt.

Perhaps he would push Jimin over the leather seat, yank down his pants, and start spanking him before they even left the courthouse parking lot. He would scold him, voice gruff with irritation yet laced with amusement, remarking on the ridiculousness of the deep burgundy thong Jimin had chosen to wear—one that left little to the imagination, with its delicate lace triangle nestled perfectly between his cheeks. Jimin could almost feel the phantom sting of Yoongi’s palm already.

Or maybe Yoongi would choose the route of deadly silence, ignoring Jimin completely until they got home. He’d let the tension simmer, let Jimin squirm, his anticipation growing unbearable. Then, the moment they were alone—no prying eyes, no interruptions—Yoongi would grab him and shove him against the nearest surface. Jimin hummed at the thought. He could see it so clearly—himself pressed against the mirrored wall of their private penthouse elevator, Yoongi’s fingers fisting his hair, yanking his head back just to remind him who was really in control.

Or maybe—just maybe—Yoongi would take things a step further. He’d tie Jimin’s wrists behind his back with a satin ribbon, force him onto his knees in front of the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city, and make him bounce on a toy first, watching as Jimin’s body adjusted and struggled. He’d tease, taunt, and humiliate him by reminding him that anyone looking in from another building might just be able to see him. But Jimin knew Yoongi—knew how his mind worked. Once he’d had enough of watching, he wouldn’t hesitate. He’d lift Jimin up in one swift motion, press his cheek against the cool glass, and sink into him in one deep, unforgiving thrust.

The mere thought made Jimin lick his lips.

It had been a long time since Yoongi had taken him with a toy already inside. The only time they had tried it, Jimin had come so fast—so many times, one right after the other—that his body had been left trembling, boneless, unable to take anything more. Yoongi, frustrated at not getting to fully enjoy him, had been forced to find his own release much sooner than he had wanted. Perhaps that was why he hadn’t suggested doing it again.

But Jimin was ready now. And he was more than willing to find out exactly which form of punishment Yoongi had in mind.

They would have their answer soon enough—just as soon as Yoongi slid into the seat beside him.

***

“You mocked me.”

The moment Yoongi slid into the back seat beside Jimin, those were the first words to leave his lips. His voice carried a feigned anger, though the subtle smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed the amusement lurking beneath. Ah, of course it did—this wasn’t the first time Jimin had played one of his little games, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last. He loved teasing Yoongi like this, loved the way their little power struggles always ended in something deliciously rewarding.

“I told you not to run your mouth,” Jimin replied, casting a sidelong glance in Yoongi’s direction. He made no effort to hide his smug smile, crossing one leg over the other in a way that only served to accentuate the firm lines of his thighs. With a flick of his fingers, he brushed at his red trousers as though dusting off something insignificant.

Yoongi’s gaze darkened. “I’ll make you pay for that.” He could promise Jimin that much. In fact, he already had a dozen ideas forming in his mind—things he wanted to do to him, ways he would remind Jimin exactly who he was dealing with. And he wanted to do them now.

“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.” Jimin’s voice was dripping with arrogance. He was fully aware that the man sitting beside him—feared by many, revered by all—held power that could shake an entire city. And yet, to Jimin, that power meant absolutely nothing. It never had. Not when he refused Yoongi’s first offer, not when he finally let him in. Jimin had never feared him.

But Yoongi feared him.

And in Jimin’s eyes, he should.

Yoongi tilted his head slightly, his gaze narrowing. “You like making me angry, don’t you?” He reached up to loosen his tie, as if the fabric was suffocating him.

Jimin smirked. “You’re rougher when you’re mad.” His voice was casual, almost careless, but the way he exposed his neck just so—deliberately tempting—told a different story.

Yoongi’s pupils dilated slightly, his fingers flexing at his sides. “You can be certain I’ll be rough tonight.”

Everyone in Seoul knew that when Min Yoongi made a promise, he kept it. He never spoke empty words. If he said he was going to do something, it would be done. And no one knew that better than Jimin.

Jimin hummed, dragging his gaze lazily over Yoongi’s form, drinking him in like a fine wine. “I hope that’s not just an empty threat.”

He was baiting him, of course. Jimin always knew exactly how to push Yoongi’s buttons, how to pry the most delicious reactions out of him. He thrived on it.

Yoongi, who had been carefully watching Jimin’s every movement, exhaled slowly. The car’s tinted windows gave them complete privacy, shielding them from prying eyes as they cruised through the sunlit streets, the lack of traffic allowing for a smooth, uninterrupted ride.

He wasn’t going to waste time.

“Come here,” he ordered, his voice deceptively calm. “Sit on my lap.”

Anyone who knew Yoongi well enough would recognize that this wasn’t a request—it was a command. If anyone else had been in Jimin’s place, they would have been trembling with fear. But Jimin was not just anyone.

He knew exactly how to handle Min Yoongi. And he knew exactly where this was going.

He could have stood up to him a little bit more, he could have made Yoongi a little bit angrier by objecting. It would have really pissed Yoongi off if he had continued to taunt him, as if what he had done inside hadn’t been enough. But Jimin didn’t want to go through with it at that moment; he decided to obey him meekly. Of course, he was going to take it out on him later, but you know, sometimes he had to change the order of priorities in certain situations. This was one of them.

Jimin got up clumsily from his seat to do as Yoongi told him. He was being as careful as possible not to lose his balance in the moving car. Before he let himself fall into Yoongi’s lap, though, he reached out to close the panel between him and the driver. But before he could pull the latch, Yoongi pulled him into his lap, keeping his eyes on Jimin’s plump buttocks.

“No.” Jimin frowned and wiggled in his place on Yoongi’s lap, listening to another one of his commands. Moreover, Yoongi’s warmth surrounded him as if he were very cold.

Yoongi’s men knew exactly what to ignore and when to ignore it. They knew not to turn and watch them, no matter what they heard, until Yoongi told them to look. And Yoongi was aware of that, just as he was aware that Jimin liked to be loud. “I never made you an empty promise,” he continued. “You know I take this seriously.”

“That’s another thing I like about you,” Jimin whispered as he moved his hips softly, grinding against Yoongi.

After Yoongi had helped Jimin rub against him for a while, he used his hands wrapped around Jimin’s slim waist to free the hem of his shirt that Jimin had tucked into his pants. After caressing his bare skin and playing with his belly button with his fingertip, he unbuttoned his pants, and Jimin immediately helped him by lifting his hips so Yoongi could pull his pants and thong off of him.

“I want you to beg me right now,” Yoongi hissed in Jimin’s ear. His lips moved from the nape of Jimin’s neck to his ear, sinking his teeth into the sensitive skin beneath it.

Jimin bit his lip, trying to keep his voice down as much as possible as he moaned back at Yoongi. “You know how to make me beg.” His whisper sent a shiver through Yoongi’s skin.

Yoongi really did know how to make Jimin beg. When he used Jimin’s favorite thin ties to tie his hands and feet behind his back, Jimin had no choice but to beg as he helplessly writhed in front of him. Especially with Yoongi’s warm breath on his skin, Jimin became the most needy and desperate man in the world. Maybe this time, Yoongi wouldn’t even make the slightest contact with him, except perhaps to pour his hot liquid over him as he pulled him against himself. He had dozens of options in front of him and his lover in his arms, who would eagerly participate in all of them, in everything he would do to him.

“I’m not going to fuck you right now,” Yoongi said with great determination. His hands moved down to Jimin’s crotch, wrapping around his beautiful, already-erect length. Despite the way Jimin’s head fell onto his shoulder as he stroked his maddeningly sensitive cock, twitching and throbbing between his fingers—despite Jimin’s hips grinding against him, faster and faster, and despite the hands tightening around his wrists—Yoongi refused to give in.

“You’re just going to caress me?” Jimin murmured with mock resignation. It was always a gamble with Yoongi; sometimes he took the bait, sometimes he didn’t. Eh, Jimin wasn’t going to take any chances either.

“Mm-hmm,” Yoongi hummed in agreement. Still, he didn’t neglect to bring the hand that had been resting on Jimin’s stomach up to his lips. He couldn’t help but chuckle when Jimin’s plush lips immediately parted, wrapping around two fingers at once. What would Yoongi do if they weren’t always so desperate for each other?

Jimin arched his back, pressing his hips closer as he wet Yoongi’s long, bony fingers with lewd slurps. “We have a fifteen-minute drive,” he whispered as Yoongi withdrew his fingers from his mouth and immediately lowered them between Jimin’s legs. Without needing a single command, Jimin spread his thighs as wide as his pants—now pooled at his knees—would allow.

“I can have you coming in five minutes,” Yoongi murmured in that deep voice that sent a shiver down Jimin’s spine. He pushed a finger inside, slow but deliberate. “Or I can get you ready in fifteen and fuck your pretty hole the moment we step into the elevator.”

Jimin’s sharp gasp turned into a desperate moan as he rocked his hips down, trying to take Yoongi’s finger deeper. He knew he could handle more, knew he needed more, but Yoongi had no intention of giving it to him so easily. He withdrew his finger, then pressed it back in, dragging along Jimin’s walls, stroking him from the inside while his other hand worked his neglected cock.

“You know I don’t need you to get me ready,” Jimin whimpered after the third deep thrust of Yoongi’s fingers. It was true. Their sex life was far too active for that, and especially after last night, Jimin knew he was already stretched enough to take Yoongi without preparation.

“And yet no matter how much I stretch you, you’re always so fucking tight,” Yoongi finished his sentence for him, adding a second finger but still keeping the pace torturously slow.

“You love it,” Jimin moaned, pausing only to savor the fullness inside him. He knew Yoongi could stop at any moment, could leave him like this just to tease him further, so he soaked in every sensation while he could. Yoongi’s fingers curled inside him, stroking that sweet spot, while his lips and teeth never stopped tormenting the soft skin of his ear, neck, and nape.

“I’m going crazy with how tight you are,” Yoongi growled into his ear. His mind was already clouded with memories of Jimin wrapped snug around him, using those gorgeous thighs to drive him insane. Fuck, they needed to get home now.

Jimin was losing his composure, unsure whether he wanted to rut against the hardness beneath him, push into the warm, slick grip of Yoongi’s palm, or grind deeper onto the fingers teasing his walls.

“Darling,” Jimin murmured after a while, pressing his ass down harder against Yoongi’s clothed erection, making Yoongi suck in a ragged breath. “You seem a little stuck yourself.”

“Baby,” Yoongi muttered, dragging his teeth over Jimin’s earlobe. “You have no idea.”

Jimin had a pretty good guess. No one understood Yoongi’s frustration—his anger, his arousal—better than he did. And he knew exactly what Yoongi was capable of doing to him.

Jimin had a vivid imagination and an exceptional memory. Just recalling what Yoongi had done to him before was enough to send a shiver through his core. And he knew Yoongi was just as creative—if not more. Anything Jimin had ever dreamed of doing, anything he had imagined in the most improbable of places, Yoongi could make happen effortlessly. Jimin’s boundaries were blurred, and Yoongi was one of the rare, perhaps the only person, who could match him in this game.

“We haven’t done it in the car in a long time,” Jimin panted, his breath hitching as he spoke. He freed one of his hands from Yoongi’s wrist and tangled it into his hair, tugging hard at the soft strands between his fingers. His hips never stopped their motion, grinding against Yoongi’s lap as Yoongi’s fingers stretched him open. And then there was that palm—tight, relentless, stroking his cock at a maddening pace. Jimin felt like he was being claimed from all sides, pleasure wrapping around him like a vice as he edged closer and closer to release.

“Jimin,” Yoongi warned, cutting through the sinful melody of Jimin’s moans. He wasn’t going to let Jimin have what he wanted so easily. Not after everything that had been running through his mind since the moment he had seen him at the entrance to the holding cell. No, Yoongi wasn’t about to let Jimin reach the top so quickly—not when he had been forced to swallow his irritation, one grievance at a time. “You need to pay for deceiving me.”

“Mmhh—” A choked whimper filled the interior of their private vehicle. Even though Yoongi exuded confidence, never once checking the rearview mirror, Jimin couldn’t resist sneaking a glance. It was one of the few things he still hadn’t grown used to after all these years—the presence of someone else in the car. He forced himself to pull away from the pleasure Yoongi was expertly delivering, releasing the sweet spot that was being ruthlessly pressed inside him before he could lose himself completely. “So you want to play.”

“No, I don’t want to waste time with toys.” Yoongi’s voice was sharper than Jimin had anticipated, laced with something dark and commanding. Jimin loved that voice, but even more, he loved when Yoongi whispered with that same edge—right against his ear—telling him in excruciating detail exactly what he was going to do to him.

“Then what do you want?”

Oh, Yoongi wanted many things.

For starters, he wanted Jimin right there—to bury himself deep inside him while the city blurred past the tinted windows, to keep going until Jimin collapsed, spent and trembling, in his arms. If Yoongi hadn’t been so possessive, unwilling to share even the faintest hint of Jimin with anyone else, he would have done it without hesitation—without a single care for the driver, who wouldn’t dare to so much as breathe out of line. But no. Yoongi didn’t want anyone else to hear those exquisite sounds, the moans and whimpers that belonged to him alone.

He also wanted to fold Jimin in half—literally. He wanted to pin him down, push his knees to his shoulders, test the dizzying limits of his lover’s flexibility, and slam into him harder every time Jimin screamed his name. He wanted to make him pay for messing with him, for making a fool out of him. Though, if Yoongi was being honest, that wouldn’t be much of a punishment—Jimin would enjoy it far too much. He always did. No matter how many times Jimin claimed he had limits, Yoongi had yet to find them.

In fact, at that moment, Yoongi wanted to take Jimin in every room of their house—against every flat surface he could find. He would cancel all his meetings the next day, wipe his entire schedule clean, and claim every hour that had been stolen from them.

Because Jimin was going to pay for what had just happened.

And Yoongi would make sure of it.

“I want you to ruin your favorite suit right now,” Yoongi breathed against Jimin’s neck. He pushed a third finger inside, his palm moving faster around Jimin’s throbbing cock as Jimin writhed in pleasure.

“Yoongi,” Jimin whimpered, his breath escaping in a heavy gasp. He was frustrated that Yoongi was toying with him like this, teasing him mercilessly—but he couldn’t control himself. He was so close, his body aching for release, but Yoongi wasn’t letting him have it so easily.

Jimin turned his teary eyes toward the window, trying to figure out where they were, but it was no use. How much farther did they have to go? He needed to reach his peak, now.

“Seven minutes left,” Yoongi murmured, his lips brushing along Jimin’s neck. Jimin let out a desperate, tearful sound as Yoongi’s tongue left wet trails behind. They were only halfway there, and Yoongi was being so unbearably cruel.

“Fuck—mmmh,” Jimin hissed as his body convulsed. Yoongi spread his fingers inside him, stretching him wider. God, if it had been Yoongi’s cock inside him instead of his fingers, he might have come just from that alone.

“It’ll be a shame,” Yoongi muttered, frustration creeping into his voice. He was getting impatient too. Maybe he really would pin Jimin against the mirror the second they stepped into the elevator, just as he had promised, and not let him step out until he was completely undone. “I love this suit.”

“Together—ahh…” Jimin’s words were cut off by his own sharp gasp. “Don’t you want to get it dirty?”

“Oh, baby, what’s the rush?” Yoongi teased, his voice thick with amusement. Jimin’s cock was leaking so much that wet sounds filled the space between them, making their movements even sloppier, more desperate. “I still have a lot of work to do on you.”

Yoongi shifted his grip, sliding his palm to the tip of Jimin’s cock, his thumb pressing down gently against the swollen head. Jimin flinched, trying to push his hips forward, to take more, but Yoongi held him down effortlessly. His fingers inside Jimin curled just right, stroking that sweet spot in a rhythm so devastating that Jimin curled up tighter in Yoongi’s arms, spreading his legs as wide as his half-removed pants would allow.

“Yoongi—” Jimin moaned again, this time utterly wrecked. He didn’t care if their driver could hear them, didn’t care about any promises Yoongi had made. He just wanted to fall apart in his arms, to lose himself completely, to let go.

But Yoongi had changed his mind.

He no longer wanted Jimin to stain his suit. No, he wanted Jimin to button himself back up, trembling and needy, maybe even whining at him in protest as they stepped out of the car. He wanted to watch Jimin crawl onto their bed when they got home, falling apart on the sheets while Yoongi sat back in that sleek leather chair across from their bed—the very same chair he sometimes strapped Jimin to.

And he wouldn’t give Jimin a toy either. He wanted to hear the way Jimin begged for him when his own fingers couldn’t reach as deep as Yoongi could. If Jimin wanted to be teased, Yoongi would happily make him suffer for it.

“Ahh,” Jimin cried out again, shaking. “I’m gonna come—”

“Two minutes,” Yoongi murmured, his fingers delivering short but firm thrusts, as if he were already inside Jimin himself. Their penthouse building had finally come into view. After pushing his fingers into Jimin a few more times, Yoongi suddenly withdrew his hands, pulling away entirely.

Jimin, too lost in the moment, didn’t immediately grasp what had happened. The abrupt emptiness made his breath hitch, and before he could stop himself, he reached down, trying to wrap his own fingers around his neglected cock. But Yoongi caught his wrist before he could.

“What are you doing?” Jimin snapped, eyes widening in shock. His frustration skyrocketed when Yoongi not only stopped him but also shifted him away from the pressure against his aching groin. His half-lidded eyes, which had been glazed over with pleasure moments ago, were now burning with intensity—not just from arousal, but from sheer rage.

“Fix yourself,” Yoongi said nonchalantly. He released Jimin’s wrist and reached for his discarded pants and thong, pulling them back up over his trembling thighs. “We’re almost there.”

“Yoongi, are you fucking kidding me?” Jimin growled through gritted teeth. He didn’t even care about Yoongi’s attempt to dress him; instead, just as Yoongi had pushed him away, he shoved his hands off and twisted slightly in his lap so he could glare directly at him.

Instead of answering right away, Yoongi let a playful smirk curl his lips. His fingers tilted Jimin’s chin up, forcing their eyes to lock.

“Baby,” Yoongi purred, his voice dripping with promise, “I’m going to do so many things to you tonight… and teasing you? That doesn’t even scratch the surface.”

***

Forty-eight floors.

Forty-eight excruciating floors where he hadn’t so much as laid a finger on Jimin, despite the thick, charged air between them. Despite the promises he had whispered into Jimin’s ear in the car, despite the fact that Jimin had been trembling on the edge of release just minutes ago. Now, nothing. Distance. An agonizing gap Yoongi refused to close.

Jimin was going insane.

He had been seconds away from unraveling, and now he was left empty, aching, untouched. But he had endured it for forty-eight floors—his new personal record. The last time Yoongi had tried something similar, he had only lasted until the forty-first floor.

“Min Yoongi,” Jimin seethed, grabbing him by the tie and yanking him forward. His voice was sharp, laced with warning, but his face was still flushed from earlier, the remnants of his desperation still burning on his skin. “You’re going to regret this.”

“No.” Yoongi’s smirk didn’t waver as Jimin pulled him closer. His hands pressed against the mirror behind Jimin, effectively caging him in. “I’m going to make you regret it.”

He still didn’t kiss him.

“You’re the one who’s going to regret it.” Jimin insisted, eyes narrowing. Only a few floors left now. Their reflections flickered in the mirror behind them, showing how close they were—so close that Jimin’s lips hovered just over Yoongi’s. He let his tongue swipe over them deliberately, the wet heat making Yoongi’s eyebrow twitch ever so slightly.

Then, Jimin tightened his grip on Yoongi’s tie and pulled him closer, just to push him away immediately after, their lips barely brushing in the process.

Yoongi chuckled, low and dangerous, as his large, bony hands braced against the metal railing. His gaze traveled shamelessly over Jimin, taking in every detail—the undone buttons of his red suit, the way his chest heaved slightly in frustration, the way his stance exuded both defiance and surrender.

“I love it when you try to act all tough,” Yoongi murmured, running his tongue along the very lips Jimin had just teased. “You talk like a predator, but it only takes me seconds to turn you into a docile little thing.”

Jimin’s smooth brow lifted, and a wicked smirk stretched across his lips.

“We’ll see if you can say the same thing when I’m fucking your mouth.”

With that, Jimin’s fingers started undoing the buttons of Yoongi’s shirt, beginning at the hem where he had sloppily tucked it back in after their little session in the car. His movements were steady, deliberate, but his gaze flickered to their reflection in the mirror, watching the floor numbers tick down.

They were almost there.

When Jimin shrugged off his red jacket and tossed it right into Yoongi’s face, Yoongi caught it effortlessly with one hand, a smirk already tugging at the corners of his lips. Instead of discarding it immediately, he brought the fabric up to his nose and inhaled deeply, making a show of it.

“Mmm,” he hummed, voice dripping with amusement. “Smells a little like you, a little like victory—but mostly like you losing to me.”

Jimin’s jaw twitched. If the elevator doors hadn’t slid open with a quiet chime, he would have had a few choice words for Yoongi about just how wrong he was, but he swallowed them for now. Instead, he stepped out of the elevator first, his steps purposeful, not even bothering to check if Yoongi was following—because, of course, he was.

“Strip.”

The single-word command made Yoongi chuckle as he strolled into the penthouse. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed Jimin’s jacket somewhere in the foyer, not caring where it landed. His fingers moved to loosen his tie, all while his dark eyes remained fixed on Jimin’s hips, the way they swayed as he walked ahead of him.

They didn’t have to go all the way to the bedroom. Yoongi could take him right there—against the study’s polished wooden desk, on top of the cool slate of the pool table. The thought of Jimin sprawled out there, red marks blooming on his pale skin from the friction of the smooth silk, made Yoongi’s fingers twitch in anticipation.

But Jimin had other plans.

Without hesitation, he headed straight for the stairs. His shirt slid off his shoulders as he walked, the crisp white fabric slipping down his toned arms, revealing the elegant curve of his back. The intricate tattoos etched along his spine gleamed in the golden light filtering through the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. The contrast of dark ink against his milky skin never failed to make Yoongi’s breath hitch, his arousal sharpen.

By the time Jimin reached the top of the stairs, he was already unzipping his pants.

Yoongi, who had discarded his own shirt somewhere along the way, took his time climbing the stairs, savoring the view. The way Jimin’s shoulder blades flexed, the slow, deliberate way he peeled his pants off his legs and kicked them aside—it was nothing short of art. Yoongi could feel his restraint stretching dangerously thin.

But Jimin wasn’t done.

Halfway up the steps, he paused.

Then, without an ounce of hesitation, he slipped his thong down the length of his toned legs and let it drop to the floor.

Yoongi was already reaching for his belt when Jimin turned around, meeting his gaze head-on, and with a devilish smirk, tossed the delicate scrap of fabric right into Yoongi’s face.

“Hurry up.”

Yoongi caught the garment easily, but for a moment, he didn’t move. He just stood there, eyes dark, lips parted slightly, staring up at Jimin with an expression that sent a thrilling shiver down Jimin’s spine.

Oh, Jimin was going to pay for that.

“Baby, you tell me the opposite in bed,” Yoongi said innocently, as if he were genuinely confused. He caught the underwear Jimin had thrown at him and, with a teasing glint in his eye, brought it up to his nose and inhaled deeply, knowing it would provoke him even more. Then, flashing a flirtatious smile, he added, “Mmm, smells just like you.”

“We’ll see,” Jimin shot back, sharp and impatient, before turning on his heel and ascending the stairs quickly.

Yoongi, however, was in no rush. He took his time, climbing the steps at an infuriatingly slow pace, savoring every second of watching his lover’s bare body move in front of him.

The second floor of their penthouse was an open-plan space, designed to be both indulgent and extravagant. A massive bed—easily three times the size of a standard king—sat directly beneath a ceiling mirror that reflected every inch of the room. The entire floor was encased in glass, save for the wall supporting the bed’s headboard. On one side of the space, a lavish bathtub and Jacuzzi gleamed invitingly; on the other, meticulously arranged dressing areas stood side by side, tailored to their individual styles. The entire floor was covered in polished black marble—a deliberate choice, because Yoongi loved hearing Jimin’s footsteps echo across it.

Jimin didn’t look back as he reached the top of the stairs and made his way to the bed. But he could hear Yoongi behind him—hear the soft sounds of his shoes being kicked off, hear the quiet rustling of fabric as he rid himself of the last remaining barriers between them.

Then, just before Jimin reached the head of the bed, Yoongi struck.

Moving faster than expected, he caught Jimin by the wrist and spun him around, forcing him to face him.

Before Jimin could protest, Yoongi’s hands were on his face, large and warm, tilting his chin up as he crashed their lips together. He kissed him with the kind of force that always left Jimin reeling—insistent, commanding, and just rough enough to unnerve him.

The plan was simple: he would kiss him until his breath hitched, until his mind fogged over, until all that tension in his body melted away. Then he’d press their hips together, let Jimin grind against him until he was gasping, and finally, he’d lift him up—effortlessly—and toss him onto the bed like he always did.

But not this time.

Just as Yoongi’s hands slid down to grasp Jimin’s hips, preparing to hoist him up, Jimin suddenly pulled away. His grip tightened around Yoongi’s neck, keeping him at arm’s length, a dark, knowing smile playing on his lips.

Instead of giving in, Jimin took control.

Still holding Yoongi’s neck, he guided him backward, forcing him to step toward the bed. Yoongi let him—for now. But as the back of his legs hit the mattress, Jimin abruptly pushed him, making him lose his balance and fall onto the bed with a quiet grunt.

Before Yoongi could sit up, Jimin was already climbing onto the bed, stalking toward him on his knees.

“Do you remember what I told you?” he asked, voice velvety and teasing.

Yoongi propped himself up on his elbows, watching as Jimin crawled closer. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as Jimin’s body slid over him—hips grazing against his groin, then his stomach, then his chest.

“You tell me a lot of things, baby,” Yoongi murmured, breath slightly uneven.

Jimin leaned in, brushing his lips against the shell of Yoongi’s ear, and whispered, “I’m talking about what I’m going to do to your mouth for talking nonsense.”

“Baby,” Yoongi whispered as he reached out a hand and pressed his palm against Jimin’s penis, moving it up and down, causing Jimin’s lips to part, obviously in distress. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

Jimin’s breathing was ragged for a moment. Licking his lips like Yoongi, he stretched out a little more and pressed his knees over Yoongi’s shoulders onto the bed. As he climbed on top of him, Yoongi leaned back and let himself fall completely onto the bed. He wrapped his fingers around Jimin’s penis and then guided it to his lips. Using his free hand to caress Jimin’s thigh, he rubbed his penis against his lip and then pressed his tongue against the tip.

Jimin tangled one hand in Yoongi’s hair and squeezed it between his fingers. “Hurry up,” Jimin muttered, no longer patient. That’s why Yoongi wanted to make him wait, but he found it easier to suck the tip of Jimin’s penis. He wanted to make him think he had the power for now.

Jimin’s labored breathing was interrupted this time, the caress of Yoongi’s skillful tongue on him, the suction of his hot, wet mouth on him, made him moan rapidly, as if he was too sensitive. He pushed himself impatiently into Yoongi’s mouth, and Yoongi embraced him tenderly, taking him in as far as he could.

Yoongi swallowed several times and sucked him enthusiastically, while Jimin tugged harder on his hair. The first few times, he gently pushed and pulled back, but Jimin couldn’t take it any longer, and in his impatience, he accelerated his movements. Fortunately, Yoongi kept up with him easily, even marveling at Jimin’s sensitivity. It wasn’t the first time they had been like this, but because of what he had just done to him in the car, Jimin seemed quite out of control.

Jimin threw his head back and moaned with pleasure while Yoongi stroked his thighs. He placed one hand on Jimin’s stomach and then gently stroked his way up to his chest. He took his nipple between his fingers and squeezed it, all the while swirling his tongue around him. With the shock of the first moment, Jimin pushed himself all the way into Yoongi’s mouth and let out a small scream. Yoongi swallowed, knowing that he was enjoying it too much. His throat was so constricted that Jimin couldn’t take it anymore and let out another scream.

Yoongi moved his hand up to Jimin’s neck, but not to wrap it around his throat, as he liked to do, but up to his lips. Jimin first laughed when he realized that he wanted to send two fingers into his mouth at the same time, and then he looked down to give Yoongi’s fingers a good wetting.

In truth, they both knew that Jimin had no time to prepare, no time to linger. With Yoongi sucking him so well, with his mouth so hot and wet, getting ready was not even one of the last things on his mind. On the contrary, he would rather feel Yoongi inside him in all his fullness.

Yoongi turned his gaze above them, to the huge mirror hanging from the ceiling, swallowing once more. His vision wasn’t clear enough to make out his own eyes, but Yoongi liked what he saw as Jimin moved in and out of his mouth, tugging at his hair and sucking his fingers.

For a moment, a tiny moment, he imagined Jimin sucking his own fingers, then fingering himself as he moved back and forth in Yoongi’s mouth, but his mind was distracted when Jimin grabbed his wrist and pulled his hand back.

“Stop swallowing,” he said desperately as he leaned over Yoongi and assumed a new position so that he could completely dominate him and move faster. Yoongi’s tongue slid across his tongue and down his throat, Yoongi’s nose kept bumping into his groin. Jimin knew exactly how it felt.

Yoongi’s fingers, wet from Jimin’s careful sucking, went straight between Jimin’s thighs. With Yoongi’s head between his legs, it was too easy for him to reach him. Without waiting, Yoongi sent the tip of his twitching penis inside him as he pressed it against Yoongi’s cheek. He thrust two fingers in fast and simultaneously, and Jimin threw his head back with a cry.

If Yoongi’s mouth had been free, he would have said a few witty words to him, then chastised him for giving in so quickly. Yoongi would have gladly punished him, even if it didn’t feel that way to Jimin when he did it. He knew Jimin loved his punishments.

Before Jimin could say anything else, another scream escaped from his ragged breaths. Every time he pushed himself into Yoongi’s mouth, Yoongi pushed his fingers in, matching the rhythm Jimin had set. Yoongi knew his lover’s body very well—how to touch him, what to say to him, how to please Mockingbird.

Yoongi was sucking him well, caressing him beautifully with his skillful tongue, while his fingertips were constantly crushing Jimin’s sweetest spot, driving him crazy by doing the same thing over and over again. Jimin was divinely beautiful, and Yoongi admired him once more as he towered over him. His eyes went back to the ceiling, to the mirror on the ceiling. He looked wonderful.

Jimin threw his head back and, like Yoongi, turned his eyes to the ceiling and watched for a brief moment how the two of them looked as their full lips parted. But as much as he wanted to savor the moment, his body, already fragile from what Yoongi had just done in the car, could take no more and exploded.

Still, Yoongi continued to suck Jimin until the very end, witnessing Jimin’s eyes glaze over as he swallowed the warmth he was giving him. When he finally let go of his lips, Jimin let himself fall to Yoongi’s side.

“You gave up too soon,” Yoongi said, turning sideways on his bed and looking at Jimin. He had his elbow on the bed and his cheek in his palm. “I’ve seen better of you.”

“Son of a bitch,” Jimin muttered under his breath. Although he knew Yoongi was watching him, he didn’t see him lick his lips because he wasn’t looking at him. One hand rested on his chest while the other fell limply to his side. His sweaty body glistened so beautifully that Yoongi’s mouth watered. “You brought me to the edge.”

“Baby, you wanted it,” he said with a small laugh. He reached out his fingertips and began to caress Jimin’s collarbones. Then he leaned over him and continued with the tip of his nose.

“You played me,” Jimin growled. They both knew very well that if Yoongi hadn’t taken Jimin to the edge and left him hanging, he would have made him pay dearly.

“You played with me too.” Yoongi’s voice sounded like he was talking about the sweetest thing in the world, and right after that, his lips were pressed against Jimin’s damp skin.

“You know everything has its turn.” Jimin continued to complain, but he was also aware that Yoongi didn’t really care. He would probably push Jimin’s legs up until his knees were touching his shoulders in a moment, and he would enter him while Jimin was still screaming his name.

“So is it my turn for revenge now?” He put his hand on Jimin’s still-hard cock and started to stroke it, his lips wrapped around his collarbone as if he were trying to taste it. “Now that you got your revenge, I should get it too.”

“What I did in the car was just the beginning, Jimin,” Yoongi explained, continuing to leave wet kisses on Jimin’s skin without breaking his composure, moving his hand up and down to stroke him. “You know I don’t give up that easily.”

“Min Yoongi,” Jimin hissed through his teeth. It infuriated him that Yoongi was teasing him like this. The angrier he got, the more he wanted to take it out on Yoongi, but this time, it was Yoongi’s turn. He was probably going to turn Jimin’s world upside down with pleasure. “You son of a bitch.”

“You know I keep my promises,” Yoongi muttered, and then, in one swift move, he flipped Jimin over. Placing his hands on either side of Jimin’s waist, he lifted his hips, then ran his fingers along his spine, caressing him before grabbing the back of his neck. “You know my word is as good as your bond.” He smoothed his palm over Jimin’s plump ass before delivering a sharp slap. “Did you forget how serious I am about the promises I make to you?”

“Fuck,” Jimin cried out, caught off guard. Yoongi only laughed before landing another slap, making Jimin’s sensitive skin flush red immediately.

Yoongi undid the front of his pants halfway, stroking himself a few times before pushing inside Jimin in one deep thrust. Even though he had stretched him out with his fingers just minutes ago, Jimin was still tight—just the way Yoongi liked it. He was burning hot, and Yoongi thought that if hell was going to be this beautiful, it was the perfect place for him, despite all his sinfulness.

When he pulled back and thrust in hard, Jimin clenched around him just enough to make Yoongi groan. Jimin knew very well the effect this would have on him, deliberately torturing him like this. But Yoongi wasn’t about to let that happen—this was his turn to get revenge, and he had to make Jimin pay for leaving him in custody. He had promised, after all.

So he smacked Jimin’s ass again, making him jolt forward. Pressing his hand against the back of Jimin’s neck, he pushed him a little further into the mattress. When he pulled back again, Jimin rolled his hips teasingly to get on his nerves, but the moment Yoongi thrust in, he lurched forward.

With his free hand, Yoongi spread Jimin’s legs wider, forcing his chest flush against the bed.

When he thrust inside again, Jimin’s face was buried in the sheets, muffling his cry. Yoongi didn’t care—he kept up the same merciless pace, avoiding Jimin’s sweet spot just to make him beg.

Jimin held out longer than expected, refusing to give in, refusing to plead for Yoongi to finally hit that spot he was barely brushing past. He was still angry—maybe he couldn’t get what he wanted like this, but denying Yoongi what he wanted gave him a primal satisfaction.

But it didn’t last long.

One particularly sharp thrust landed perfectly against Jimin’s pleasure point, and the moment the sensation hit, he broke. A strangled scream left his lips as he instantly began begging.

Yoongi grinned as he picked up speed, grinding into Jimin with rapid, punishing thrusts, relishing the way his name spilled from Jimin’s lips over and over. Jimin, desperate to face him despite the overwhelming pleasure, attempted to turn, but Yoongi’s relentless pace knocked him off balance each time. His plump hips bounced off Yoongi’s with every deep thrust, sending him spiraling further into bliss.

By the time Yoongi switched their positions and pulled Jimin onto his lap, Jimin had already come twice more. In the end, as he rode Yoongi at his own determined pace, he finally let go, spilling between them and dirtying both of their bodies. At the same time, Yoongi groaned a curse as he filled Jimin with his heat, gripping his waist tightly as Jimin collapsed against his chest, utterly spent.

“Bastard,” Jimin mumbled, even as he lay sprawled over Yoongi’s chest. His sweat-drenched hair clung to his skin, his scalp itched from the dampness, and he felt too drained to even lift his pinky finger.

Yoongi merely chuckled in response. He was just as exhausted as Jimin, but he knew he needed to recover his energy quickly—because the moment Jimin regained even the slightest bit of strength, he would start grilling him about what had happened with Prosecutor Kim Seokjin.

And when that moment came, Yoongi would need all the energy he could get, because that was when he would truly have to brace himself for Jimin’s wrath.

***

Yoongi was nestled between Jimin’s thick thighs, his wet kisses trailing leisurely toward his groin, while Jimin languidly smoked the cigarette between his lips. Sunlight poured in through the massive glass walls, illuminating his bare skin with a golden glow. His gaze was fixed on the reflection above them, in the massive mirror suspended from the ceiling.

Yoongi lay propped on one elbow, his lips busy caressing and kissing along Jimin’s thighs, while Jimin bent one knee slightly to give him better access.

With a deep inhale, Jimin let the toxic smoke settle in his lungs for a moment before exhaling it in slow, curling wisps. The faint crackling of his cigarette mixed with the wet sounds of Yoongi’s greedy kisses. There was a rule about not smoking in the bedroom—one they had never truly followed. But then again, they had always enjoyed bending the rules to their liking.

“Why did they stop you?” Jimin asked, tapping the ash off his cigarette into the glass ashtray on the nightstand beside him. It wasn’t the most convenient position to do so while lying down, but at that moment, sitting up felt like a much greater inconvenience.

Yoongi didn’t rush to answer. Instead, he pressed a few more slow, indulgent kisses to Jimin’s inner thigh, savoring the smoothness of his skin. “They probably recognized my car,” he murmured during a brief pause.

“Hmm.”

By the time Yoongi reached Jimin’s hip, he shifted onto his elbow, his long fingers wrapping around Jimin’s cock. Jimin was nearly finished with his cigarette, taking another deep drag just as Yoongi pressed his lips against the tip of his half-hard length. His tongue slid over the sensitive head, teasing the slit, making Jimin’s body give the smallest, involuntary jerk.

Lifting his head slightly, Yoongi kept his fingers moving in slow, lazy strokes as he finally spoke again.

“Of course, I behaved like a good boy and stayed perfectly obedient.” His voice was laced with amusement, his eyes gleaming mischievously. “You know me, Jimin. I’m always such a well-behaved boy.”

Yoongi’s words made Jimin’s lips curl into a smirk. “Yeah, sure.” Min Yoongi could be many things—an infamous criminal, a successful businessman, a dark and dangerous man, a passionate lover, even a sarcastic bastard—but one thing he was certainly not was obedient. If he were, he and Jimin wouldn’t be in that bed together at that very moment.

Yoongi sealed his lips around the tip of Jimin’s cock once more, sucking slowly, his eyes fixed on the way Jimin’s stomach tensed in response. His hip bones became more defined as he reflexively lifted them, stirring an irresistible need in Yoongi to leave kisses along the sharp ridges.

This time, his tongue traced the length of Jimin’s cock, coating it with saliva, making it slick enough to glide easily through his palm. Releasing the tip from his lips, he tilted his head slightly to get a better angle, his lips trailing languidly along the shaft.

“And then?” Jimin asked as he put out his cigarette. He shuddered when Yoongi’s lips left his cock and traveled lower, down to his balls. Yoongi took his time there, teasing them, sucking just enough to earn a soft whimper from Jimin before moving back up to his length.

“Then,” Yoongi murmured in mild exasperation, lifting his head just slightly while his hand still moved slowly over Jimin’s wet length. “They asked for my documents. The usual.” He slid his fingers to the tip of Jimin’s cock, pressing his thumb against the slit. “You already know how this goes. I told them I’d show my documents after they showed me their ID.”

Yoongi had fallen for that trick once before, but never again. Normally, he was always informed ahead of time about any police checkpoints along his route, thanks to his connections inside the department. Not that he was running from the police, but dealing with procedures annoyed him. That night, there had been no report of a checkpoint on his route, but his mind had been too distracted—Jimin, dressed in nothing but his courtroom robes in that viral video, had been the only thing in his head. By the time he ordered his driver to stop, he hadn’t even considered other possibilities.

Just like he hadn’t anticipated that the one lighting the cigarette between his lips that night, while blood trickled down his eyebrow, would be Jimin.

They had fought beautifully that night.

“When did the prosecutor show up?” Jimin asked, taking his final drag before lazily tossing the cigarette into the ashtray, letting it burn out on its own. Without moving his body, he ran his fingers through his hair, breaking eye contact with Yoongi, and let his head fall back against the pillows. His gaze wandered up, meeting his own reflection in the massive mirror hanging from the ceiling.

His bare body sprawled across the sheets, Yoongi nestled between his legs. One leg stretched out comfortably while the other, the one Yoongi had just kissed along moments ago, was bent slightly at the knee, heel pressed into the mattress.

Yoongi’s messy hair fell over his groin as he took Jimin back into his mouth, his lips closing over him again. He propped himself up on one elbow, his free hand leisurely caressing Jimin’s knee.

When Yoongi let Jimin’s cock slip from his lips again, he moved lower without lifting his head. “The prosecutor was already there.”

“Did he take part in the stop?” Jimin’s breath quickened, trying to suppress the way his thighs instinctively wanted to close. His stomach caved in slightly, and the hand resting on his abdomen drifted into Yoongi’s hair, fingers threading through the strands.

“No,” Yoongi answered, sucking one of Jimin’s balls before moving to the other. His breath was warm, his tongue meticulous. “He was in the car behind me. When I got stopped, he stopped too.”

“Interesting.” Yoongi let go of Jimin’s cock, shifting his hand to Jimin’s knee. He pulled him closer, making Jimin shudder once more and let out a quiet moan. Then, he lowered his lips to the curve of Jimin’s ass.

“Do you think he was following you?” He sank his teeth gently into Jimin’s soft skin before sucking harshly. The fingers tangled in his hair pulled just as roughly in response.

“I doubt it. I don’t even think he’d have someone tail me without authorization, let alone do it himself. Still, I’ll have someone check.” Jimin’s voice was breathless, his control slipping.

Yoongi pushed Jimin’s knee up toward his chest, making more space for himself. Now, Jimin’s pink hole was even more accessible to him. He adjusted his position, shifting onto his elbows, and then did the same with Jimin’s other knee, pressing it toward his stomach as well.

“No need, I’m already having it checked.”

“He seems obsessed with municipal tenders the moment he arrived.” Yoongi lifted his head just before pressing his tongue inside Jimin, his eyes locking onto his slightly swollen lips, still plump from their earlier kisses.

“You think he’ll find anything?”

“Please.” Jimin rolled his eyes, answering with mockery. The warm breath escaping from Yoongi’s lips against his skin made him impatient. His cock had hardened again under Yoongi’s attention, every sensitive spot of his being treated with expertise.

“Just thought I’d ask.” Yoongi smirked mischievously before lowering his lips again and biting down on the same spot he had just sucked.

“You know I cover my tracks, Yoongi. Have you forgotten?” Jimin always considered every possibility, planned for every scenario. “As long as your men don’t fuck up, there won’t be a problem.”

“And don’t you know how good I am at what I do?” Yoongi teased, his voice dripping with amusement. Without lifting his head, he pressed a quick kiss to Jimin’s cock, then ran his thumb over his hole, rubbing slow, teasing circles.

“If you’re talking about head, then yeah,” Jimin panted. “You’re not bad.”

Yoongi lifted his head at that, locking eyes with Jimin. He ran his sharp tongue over his lips, wetting them deliberately, never stopping the motion of his thumb. Then, without breaking eye contact, he brought his hand to his mouth and spit into his palm.

He spread the wetness over Jimin’s hole without hesitation, slipping his thumb inside effortlessly. The entire time, his gaze never wavered from Jimin’s.

Then, Yoongi lowered his head again, taking Jimin’s cock back into his mouth. This time, he let him slide deep, all the way to the back of his throat. Jimin’s hips lifted off the bed in response, pleasure sending a shudder through him.

And still, Yoongi’s thumb never stopped stroking his walls, pressing just enough to keep him teetering on the edge.

Jimin was telling the truth—Yoongi knew exactly how to handle him.

With his fingers tangled in Yoongi’s hair, Jimin pressed him closer, urging him to move faster, to let him slide over his tongue again and again, to keep caressing him from the inside. But Yoongi wasn’t in a rush.

When Yoongi finally let him go, he pushed himself up onto his knees. Jimin’s hand dropped limply to his stomach, his gaze dark with frustration and overwhelming need.

“Turn around,” Yoongi ordered.

But before Jimin could even attempt to move, Yoongi gripped his legs and flipped him over in one swift motion.

A humorless laugh spilled from Jimin’s lips at the sudden movement. He pulled his knees forward, arching his back, lifting his hips, and settling onto his elbows.

Yoongi ran his palms over the soft curve of Jimin’s ass, smoothing his hands over his skin before gripping both cheeks and spreading them apart. He traced his tongue down the crease, returning to the tight hole at the center.

Jimin shuddered violently as Yoongi pushed his tongue inside.

“Mmh.” His moan echoed off the glass walls, and Yoongi took his time savoring him. He alternated between pressing his tongue inside to stroke his walls and sucking hungrily, making sure Jimin felt every movement.

One of Yoongi’s hands continued kneading Jimin’s ass, while the other slid up the dip of his lower back, following the line of his spine. He ran his fingers over each ridge of his vertebrae until he reached the space between Jimin’s shoulder blades.

Applying gentle pressure, Yoongi encouraged Jimin to spread his arms, causing his cheek to press into the mattress.

Jimin gasped, his breath hitching as Yoongi’s tongue worked him open with a slow, deliberate rhythm, his grip firm and possessive.

Before Yoongi could pull his lips away from Jimin’s, Jimin pushed two fingers of his other hand inside himself and rose to his knees, caressing his walls with his fingertips. He brought his other hand back to the curve of his waist and held himself tightly.

“Good, isn’t it?” Yoongi asked with a crooked smile. Even though Jimin couldn’t see, he could tell Yoongi was running his tongue over his wet lips. In return, Yoongi received a smug and pleased hum. “Hmmh.”

Yoongi leaned down and kissed Jimin’s ass before gently pulling his fingers out and moving back onto his knees and off the bed. “Finger yourself.”

Jimin turned around and let his hips fall to the bed, looking at Yoongi with a mocking smile. “You love it when I do things for you, don’t you?”

Yoongi walked over to Jimin’s pack of cigarettes, pulled one out, placed it between his lips, and quickly lit it up. Jimin started to run his fingertips over his own belly, caressing his belly button without neglecting to look into Yoongi’s eyes. He spread his legs comfortably, and as Yoongi took his place right in front of him, Jimin lowered his fingers down to his groin. Yoongi took a deep drag on his cigarette as Jimin brushed over his own penis and down to his hole.

“You’re not doing this for me.” Yoongi grinned after exhaling, and Jimin brought the fingers of his other hand to his lips as his eyebrows furrowed slightly. “You’re doing this for yourself. So that you understand how well I fuck you.” Yoongi continued after taking another drag on his cigarette. “So that you understand that I’m the best for you.”

“Bastard,” Jimin muttered just before taking his fingers between his lips. The whole time, he was watching Yoongi’s cigarette that Yoongi kept bringing to his lips while he sucked on his own fingers without taking his eyes off Yoongi.

The way Yoongi was greedily taking in the poisonous smoke while swirling his tongue around his two fingers made Jimin a little nervous. Yoongi was a delicious man, and despite all that, some of his behaviors, like the one at that moment, made Jimin’s head spin. Almost to the point where he was sucking his own fingers and moaning under Yoongi’s gaze.

Jimin was slowly caressing his hole with his fingers, taking the moisture from Yoongi’s saliva-soaked skin. Then he moved his wet fingers toward his balls, running them along his hardened, slender, long penis.

After removing his fingers from his lips with a small smack, he moved his wet fingers to his hole this time. He locked eyes with Yoongi, who was watching him breathlessly as his other hand wrapped around his penis. Without wasting any time, his lips parted with a small moan of their own as he pushed his fingers inside himself, his hips lifting slightly off the bed.

Yoongi had already wet him nicely and prepared him, so it wasn’t hard for Jimin to take his own fingers inside. Yoongi’s eyes immediately followed Jimin’s movement, focusing on his hole, not even looking at Jimin’s lips, which were parted in pleasure.

Although the sight in front of him made his head spin, Yoongi didn’t hurry. He was smoking his cigarette calmly despite his racing heartbeat, savoring the extremely provocative scene in front of him to the fullest.

That’s why he had done nothing but watch as Jimin played with himself until he reached the end of his cigarette. He hadn’t even touched his own twitching penis—he had only listened to the subtle moans, rapid breaths, and the smacking sounds of Jimin’s fingers moving in and out of him. As if that wasn’t enough, he tried to distract him by talking, stopping him just as he was about to curl up on the bed in pleasure and turn onto his side.

“Fuck,” Jimin cried out, his hands and feet tangling as he struggled to decide whether to speed up the fingers wrapped around his penis or the ones moving inside him, his pleasure intensifying.

“Not enough,” Yoongi muttered in a husky voice. Then his tongue ran over his lips, and he took a deep breath of the last drag of his cigarette. He knew that the moan that escaped Jimin’s lips this time was due to his tone alone. “I’ve gotten you used to going so deep—this isn’t enough for you.”

Jimin lifted his hips a little more, using the strength of his feet against the bed as he tried to push his fingers deeper, while his other hand, wrapped around his penis, pressed against the bed next to his head for support. “Yoongi…” he breathed, almost helplessly. The fact that Yoongi was right not only unnerved him but also made him lose all composure.

“Shhh,” Yoongi whispered, pressing his cigarette into the ashtray. “This way, you’ll like it even more when you have me.”

Jimin let out another full-throated curse, his entire body tensed, lost in nothing but his own touch, with not a single nerve ending left unstimulated. The only thing he wanted—the only thing he cared about—was what Yoongi was about to do to him.

As much as he secretly loved it, a part of Jimin hated feeling this powerless when it came to sex with Yoongi. The way his body craved him so desperately, how Yoongi always gave him the best, and how he played with him like this made Jimin short-circuit. Yoongi truly gave him the best, and even after all these years, it still drove Jimin insane.

“Please,” Jimin whimpered breathlessly. “Please.”

And that was the magic word that finally set Yoongi into motion. Still, he didn’t rush as he approached Jimin. When he reached the bed, he grabbed Jimin’s wrist and pulled him up effortlessly, making Jimin collapse onto the mattress, boneless and spent. Without letting go of his wrist, Yoongi moved forward on his knees, parting Jimin’s trembling thighs when he instinctively pressed them together with a needy whimper. Then, sliding one hand under his ass, he lifted him up again with ease.

“Hurry up,” Jimin grumbled impatiently. He couldn’t stand how slow Yoongi was moving. He kept pressing his hips toward Yoongi, trying to bring himself closer. When Yoongi finally released his wrist and gripped both of his ass cheeks, Jimin wasted no time, hastily wrapping his legs around Yoongi’s waist, pulling him in.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you look when you’re this desperate?” Yoongi asked, raising an eyebrow. He had, of course, made sure that his cock was sliding right over Jimin’s entrance, teasing him mercilessly. One of his hands trailed along Jimin’s thigh, from his upper thigh to his knee, before gripping his shoulder firmly. And then, right in the middle of Jimin’s whimpering, he thrust inside him with a deep, hard stroke.

Jimin cried out in pleasure, his body arching backward from the sheer intensity of it. Yoongi caught him and pulled him back in, pressing their bodies flush together. He gave him a brief moment to adjust, then drove himself back in, just as deep and just as hard. It was thick and unrelenting, exactly how Jimin liked it.

Yoongi repeated his movements a few more times, setting a rhythm, while Jimin’s heel pressed into his shoulder blade, urging him closer. Taking the cue, Yoongi plunged into Jimin’s depths again, hitting that spot that made Jimin cry out in bliss. In response, Yoongi merely turned his face to the inside of Jimin’s thigh, placing a soft kiss there.

And then he kept going, keeping that slow, hard rhythm until Jimin came twice in succession, his cries echoing through the vast penthouse. Only when he had Jimin trembling beneath him did Yoongi finally lift his other leg over his shoulder, folding him even further, and lean down to hover right above him. As Jimin gasped out, “Come inside me,” Yoongi let go, spilling his warmth deep inside.

“Bastard,” Jimin grumbled through the sweet aftershocks of his orgasm.

Yoongi only chuckled, pressing another kiss to the inside of Jimin’s thigh before gently lowering his legs from his shoulders. Then, cupping Jimin’s flushed face in his hands, he kissed him, slow and lingering.

For a while, they simply lay there, breathing in sync, Jimin’s back snug against Yoongi’s chest. As the sun dipped lower on the horizon, dimming the room into soft shadows, Jimin finally turned, curling up against Yoongi like a satisfied cat, resting his head on his chest. Yoongi wrapped an arm around him, his fingers trailing lightly over his delicate shoulder as he reached for the pack of cigarettes on the bedside table. He pulled out two, lighting Jimin’s first before his own, then pressed a lazy kiss to the crown of Jimin’s head.

When they had reached the middle of their cigarettes, Jimin finally spoke, voice quiet but certain. “That prosecutor,” he murmured, exhaling a slow stream of smoke. “Looks like we’re going to have a lot of work to do with him.”

***

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. I’d love to hear your thoughts—scream at me, analyze every detail, or just drop a little chaos in the comments. Either way, I appreciate you being here! Until next time. 😉💜

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