Chapter Text
The door had barely clicked shut behind them when Jeongguk's hands found Jimin's waist.
It was familiar by now, this rhythm between them. They had done this enough times that Jimin had stopped pretending to be surprised by it, and stopped pretending that his heart didn't kick up every single time Jeongguk looked at him like that. Like he was something worth taking time with, something worth worshipping. Like undressing him was an event, not just a precursor to something else.
They had come straight from practice, both of them still flushed from the workout, hair damp at the temples. Jeongguk had been quiet in the car, one hand on the wheel and the other resting on Jimin's thigh like it belonged there. Jimin had watched the streetlights slide across Jeongguk's face and thought about how easy this had become. How easy they had become.
Now Jeongguk was backing him toward the bedroom, clumsy and insistent, nearly tripping over the shoes they had discarded in the entryway. Jimin laughed against his mouth, soft and breathless, and felt Jeongguk smile in return.
"I missed you," Jeongguk mumbled between kisses, which was absurd because they had spent the entire day together. But Jimin understood what he meant. There was a difference between being near someone and being with them, and they had been in a room full of people for hours, touching only in ways that didn't mean anything to anyone watching.
This was the part no one saw. The part where Jeongguk's careful composure cracked open and Jimin got to see what was underneath. The part where Jimin could stop being Park Jimin, idol, and just be the person who knew exactly how Jeongguk liked to be touched.
They shed their clothes in pieces, leaving a trail from the doorway to the bed. Jeongguk's shirt landed on the floor beside Jimin's sweatshirt. His jeans joined the pile next to Jimin's socks.
By the time they tumbled onto Jeongguk’s bed, bathed in the dim glow of a single bedside lamp, they were nothing but skin and shared warmth. Jimin lay back, watching as Jeongguk hovered above him, eyes dark and consuming. Jeongguk’s gaze traced Jimin’s body with a possessiveness that never failed to steal his breath. He knew Jimin, knew the arch of his spine when touched just so, the hitch in his breath that signaled the edge of pleasure. And Jimin knew him, knew the focused furrow of his brow before he kissed you senseless, the tremor in his hands when he held back.
Jeongguk’s mouth returned to Jimin’s, deeper this time, tongues sliding together in a rhythm that felt fundamental. His hand drifted lower, fingertips skimming the sensitive skin of Jimin’s inner thigh, raising goosebumps. He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against Jimin’s. “Okay?” The question was soft, unnecessary but cherished.
“Always,” Jimin breathed, tilting his hips in invitation.
Jeongguk’s answering smile was a slow curve as he reached for the nightstand drawer. The crinkle of foil, the slick sound of the lube being opened. Jimin watched, mesmerized, as Jeongguk coated his fingers generously with cool lube. The scent, clean and faintly clinical, was quickly overpowered by their own heated skin and shared breath. Jeongguk’s gaze locked with Jimin’s as he brought his slicked fingers down, tracing the curve of Jimin’s ass, circling but not yet breaching his entrance.
“Relax for me, baby,” Jeongguk murmured, his voice roughened with desire. His thumb pressed gently, insistently, against the tight ring of muscle. Jimin exhaled, consciously letting all the tension melt from his body. The first press of Jeongguk’s finger was a slow, the cool lube, warm skin, an impossible stretch that quickly bloomed into a deep, satisfying ache. Jimin gasped, his back arching slightly off the mattress. Jeongguk watched him intently, reading every micro-expression, every shift in breath. He worked slowly, patiently, crooking his finger, seeking that spot that made Jimin see stars.
There. A jolt of pure pleasure shot up Jimin’s spine, drawing a sharp cry from his lips. “J-Jeongguk–”
“Found it,” Jeongguk breathed, a hint of smug satisfaction in his tone. He kept up the pressure, circling that sensitive bundle of nerves with agonizing precision. One finger became two, stretching Jimin open with slick, persistent strokes. The burn was present, a bright edge to the overwhelming pleasure radiating from his core. Jeongguk leaned down, capturing Jimin’s mouth again as his fingers scissored gently, opening him up. The dual sensation left Jimin trembling, lost in a haze of building need. Jeongguk’s free hand roamed Jimin’s chest, thumb brushing a peaked nipple, sending fresh sparks skittering across his skin.
He added a third finger, the stretch more pronounced now, a delicious fullness that made Jimin whimper against Jeongguk’s lips. Jeongguk kissed the sound away, swallowing his moans as his fingers moved relentlessly inside him, massaging his walls, preparing him with meticulous care. The lube ensured every slide was smooth, every movement focused on building the fire higher. Jimin felt boneless, pliant, wrung out by the exquisite torture of being opened and filled so completely without being taken over the edge.
Finally, Jeongguk withdrew his fingers. Jimin felt impossibly empty, clenching involuntarily around nothing, a soft groan escaping him. Jeongguk kissed his hipbone, his breath hot on Jimin’s skin as he reached again for the condom. Jimin watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Jeongguk sheathed himself, the latex glistening under the lamp’s glow as he slicked himself with more lube. The sight of Jeongguk hard and ready, his expression one of raw anticipation sent another wave of heat crashing through Jimin.
Jeongguk positioned himself, the broad head of his cock pressing against Jimin’s well-prepared entrance. He paused, eyes dark pools of hunger fixed on Jimin’s face. “Ready?” The word was thick, strained.
“God, yes,” Jimin gasped, reaching up to pull him closer. “Please.”
The initial breach was a breathtaking stretch, deeper and wdier than the fingers. Jimin sucked in a sharp breath, focusing on the sensation of being slowly filled. Jeongguk moved with infinite patience, sinking inch by agonizing inch, his own breath coming in harsh pants against Jimin’s neck. He paused when fully seated, buried to the hilt, allowing Jimin to adjust to the incredible fullness, the heat, the sheer presence of him. Jimin wrapped his legs around Jeongguk’s waist, anchoring him, pulling him impossibly deeper.
“Fuck, Jimin,” Jeongguk groaned, the sound ragged. “So good… so tight.” He began to move then, pulling back almost entirely before driving back in with a smooth, powerful thrust.
Each stroke ignited sparks along Jimin’s nerves, his body singing where they were joined. Jeongguk set a deliberate pace at first, deep, measured thrusts that pushed the air from Jimin’s lungs and made him clutch desperately at Jeongguk’s shoulders. The angle was perfect; every inward drive brushed relentlessly over Jimin’s prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure radiating outward.
Jeongguk’s control was both thrilling and maddening. He varied his rhythm of long, slow slides followed by a series of shorter, sharper thrusts that stole Jimin’s breath. He’d pull out almost completely, hovering at the precipice until Jimin whimpered with frustration, then slam back in with devastating force. He watched Jimin’s face constantly, gauging his reactions, learning what made him arch and cry out. When Jimin’s moans grew higher, more desperate, when his body started tightening towards release, Jeongguk would slow down, grinding deep instead of thrusting, denying him that final crest.
“Not yet,” Jeongguk murmured against his ear, voice rough with restraint. “Want you right here… on the edge.” He captured Jimin’s mouth in a searing kiss, swallowing his frustrated groan. He maintained this exquisite torture, keeping Jimin suspended in a state of near-overwhelm, the pleasure coiling tighter and tighter in his belly, burning white-hot but not allowed to break. Tears pricked at Jimin’s eyes from the intensity of being held there.
Finally, seeing Jimin trembling uncontrollably beneath him, lost to everything but sensation, Jeongguk relented. His thrusts became harder, faster, losing their perfect rhythm in favor of raw need. “Now,” he gritted out, his own control fraying. “Come for me, hyung.”
It was the command that shattered him. The coil snapped. Pleasure detonated within Jimin, a supernova tearing through him. He cried out, a sound ripped from his soul as his body convulsed, spilling hot stripes onto his own stomach. The rhythmic clenching of his release pulled Jeongguk over the edge moments later. With a guttural groan that vibrated through both their bodies, Jeongguk drove deep one final time and held himself there, shuddering as his own climax pulsed in the condom.
They collapsed together in a tangle of limbs, breathing ragged, sweat cooling on their skin. Jeongguk remained inside him for a moment longer, both savoring the fading aftershocks and the intimate connection. Slowly, carefully, he withdrew, disposing of the condom before sinking back onto the bed beside Jimin.
Silence descended, thick and comfortable. Jeongguk pulled Jimin close, wrapping an arm around him, his other hand tracing idle patterns on Jimin’s damp shoulder. His lips brushed Jimin’s temple. “Good?” he asked softly, echoing his earlier question.
Jimin turned into him, burying his face in the crook of Jeongguk’s neck, inhaling the scent of sweat and sex and him. He felt raw, exposed, yet utterly safe. “Good,” he mumbled, his voice hoarse.
And it was good. It was always good with Jeongguk, who paid attention, who listened with his whole body, who made Jimin feel like the only person in the world. But there was something else now too, something that had been growing in the spaces between their hookups, something Jimin was trying very hard not to name.
They lay tangled together in the sheets, sticky and satisfied and too tired to move. Jeongguk had his head on Jimin's chest, one arm thrown across his stomach, and he was talking. Jimin wasn't entirely sure what about. Something about a video game. Something about a new song he wanted to write. His voice was low and drowsy, and his fingers were tracing lazy patterns on Jimin's back tattoos, tracing every line and every mole that painted hisskin.
Jimin listened. He always listened. But more than that, he watched. He watched the way Jeongguk's mouth curved around certain words, the way random stutters were sprinkled in between his rant. The way his eyelashes fanned against his cheeks when he blinked. The way his whole body seemed to melt into Jimin's like he belonged there.
"We should shower," Jeongguk said eventually, but he made no move to get up.
"In a minute," Jimin replied.
But minutes passed, and neither of them moved. The room grew dark around them, the last of the evening light fading through the curtains. Jeongguk's voice grew softer, his sentences breaking apart into silence. His hand stilled on Jimin's stomach. His breathing evened out.
Jimin looked down at him. At this person who had somehow become essential to him without his permission. At the curve of his ear, the scar on his left cheek, the way his lips parted slightly when he slept.
He thought about the first time they had done this. How Jeongguk had been almost shy, almost uncertain, despite all his usual bravado. How Jimin had told himself it was just physical, just stress relief, just two friends helping each other out. How even then, even at the very very beginning,
There had been something in his chest that felt like a warning, loud and blaring and eventually fading into background noise.
He hadn't listened then. And he wasn't listening now.
Jimin pressed a kiss to the top of Jeongguk's head and felt him sigh in his sleep. Tomorrow they would wake up and go on with their days, like this was all casual. Tomorrow Jimin would go back to being the person who didn't care, who didn't feel too much, who could separate sex from something deeper.
But tonight, with Jeongguk warm and heavy on his chest, Jimin let himself have this. Let himself pretend, just for a little while, that this was more than what they had agreed to. That Jeongguk was his to keep. That the feeling blooming behind his ribs was something other than disaster.
He closed his eyes and held on tighter.
In the morning, Jimin would be mature and squash the tingling in his chest and everything would go back to normal. But for now, in the dark, he let himself fall a little further.