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“I thought you were famous,” she laughed into the awkward silence.
He glanced at her, surprised, and then shrugged sheepishly. His dorm offered absolutely no privacy -- not even the illusion of it, since he shared a room -- so they were sneaking into her building.
Well, she wasn’t sneaking in, but when she made up a random name on the fly for her masked and hooded friend, she definitely felt like it. Especially after her neighbor stopped her in the hallway, looked him over, and gave her a very distinct are you sure you’re alright look.
“She probably thinks you’re kidnapping me or something,” she mumbled, unsure of what to say now that she was unlocking her door and the moment was happening after months of back and forth conversation and, well, flirting.
“Or something,” is what’s mumbled back, though she knows his low voice is probably to keep anybody who could be listening from recognizing it. Until his fingers brush against her hips and she fumbles the keys and she hears him chuckle softly from right behind her. Alright, maybe she doesn’t know anything. “Are you going to open the door?”
She manages to jab the key in and unlock the door, pushing it open at the same time she turns to snark at him, but he’s crowding her into the room and all she can do is step back or be run over.
His hands go straight for her face, cupping her cheeks as his lips slant across hers, and she sighs into it, into him. Her hands come up to grip his wrists, and it’s the door slamming shut that makes her pull away.
“Wait --” she tugs his hands away, and he lets them drop, worry crossing his features, and she could kick herself. “The keys,” she starts, pulling the door back open to pull the keys out of the lock, “let’s not invite strangers in, yeah?” She chuckles awkwardly, standing in the open doorway jiggling her keys and it’s the first time since they had left the dance studio that she really looks at his face.
They stare at each other for a long moment, the only sound the keys she can’t stop fidgeting with, while reality sets in. Sure, they’d been hinting at this outcome for months, but this was a step , and they hadn’t really spoken about it and now that they were here, she really didn’t want to talk about it. Not when he stood a foot away, just staring at her silently.
“Are you going to close the door? Or are you having second thoughts?” Even though the question is direct, she can hear the nerves behind it, and she sighs in relief. At least they were both feeling unsure.
“Of course not. No second thoughts here. It’s just weird, you know? I mean, you’re in my apartment and we’re definitely going to have sex -- unless, I mean, it doesn’t have to happen, but --” his laughter stops her mid-ramble, and he grabs her arms to pull her inside. He lets go long enough to shut and lock the door, and then he’s crowding her into it.
“I want to definitely have sex with you. If that’s okay,” he says, grinning like an idiot, and she laughs before hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him closer. His hands come up to her waist automatically, and she smiles at the contact.
“That’s a deal.” And then he’s kissing her again, open-mouthed and sloppy, and his hand slides down her hip to her thigh, and he hikes it up so it’s wrapped around his waist and he can press against her more intimately. She groans, and he pulls away to let out a hiss.
Blinking at him, because a moment ago things were moving and pressing , she just stared at him while the fog cleared from her head. He dropped her leg, his hands grabbing the hand she had run under his shirt and pressed into his side.
“Okay, do you have any other pointy things?” He mumbled, unfurling her hand to reveal the keys she had never actually let go of. She let out a soft fuck before simply giggling -- and after a moment he’s giggling, taking the keys from her and dropping them to floor next to the door.
This just sets her off more, and after a moment, she manages to get out, “did you ask if I have any pointy things?” He just shakes his head, grinning like a loon, and she grabs his face with both her hands. “Hopefully soon. You know. You,” her gaze drops if he couldn’t figure out the joke and she’s pleased to see the embarrassed flush on his cheeks when she looks back up.
“You’re going to be the death of me. Don’t you have any manners?” This just sets her off again, and she’s laughing when she kisses him. His hands immediately pull her into him, and she pulls away to take his hand.
“If I had manners, this never would have started in the first place,” she reminds him, tugging him toward her bedroom. “I would just be some producer you guys worked with.” Which is what they had danced around for months, but the songs she had helped with on the new album were finally released, including his solo that had put them in close proximity -- or at least given them the excuse to spend time together.
She wasn’t sure who they had fooled, if they had, but she was in her bedroom making out with him, so she really didn’t care.
If nothing else, no one had said anything to her about their mutual flirting, and she couldn’t believe anyone would have said something to him. She was the disposable one in their professional relationship, not him -- if one of them had to go, it would have been her.
“I would have kissed you eventually,” he defended himself, and she laughed, turning to face him and pulling him toward her so the back of her knees knocked into her bed.
“Eventually being?”
“We’re here now, aren’t we?” Which was fair enough, as this was a direct result of him kissing her in the private room of the restaurant -- which was a foolish thing to do, but then, she’d kissed him for the first time in his not-private studio knowing that Namjoon was on his way back to the room.
“Jimin?”
“What?”
“Maybe let’s decide that later,” she mumbled, pulling his face toward her, and he laughed, pushing at her until she’s sitting at the edge of the bed. He steps between her parted legs, bending down to kiss her while her hands go up his shirt, raking her nails down muscles she hasn’t gotten to touch before. He breaks the kiss when her fingers brush against his nipples, looking at her in surprise, but she only takes the opportunity to change her grip and yank his shirt off.
And then she’s looking her fill, fingers splayed against his abdomen in wonder before one hand moves to hook into his waistband and the other goes up to pull him back toward her for another kiss. Before she can make contact, his hands are pulling her shirt up and over her head, tossing it to the side with a grin before a hand hesitantly cups her breast.
She covers his exploratory hand with her own in encouragement, and then he’s pushing her back onto the bed further, climbing after her so he can prop himself next to her, half on her, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone and down, his fingers curling under the cup of her bra to brush against her nipple.
“Take it off,” he murmured into her skin, and it takes a moment for his words to pierce the lust-fueled fog. “Please?” He adds, because she hesitates, but then she’s pushing herself up enough to awkwardly unsnap her bra from the back. His hand drifted down to spread across her stomach, and she fell back against the bed with a moan, pulling the bra down her arms and throwing it when all he does is watch her expectantly.
He laughs at her, and she groans again as he sits up and scooches against her headboard, sitting up and looking down at her still splayed on the bed. “What are you doing?” She asks softly, and he smiles.
“This way you can, you know, straddle me. My lap. If you want to,” he finishes, blushing, and she laughs as she sits up and clambers over the bed to do just that. They’re both wearing jeans, and the friction if she presses against him just right sends little jolts through her -- his hands gripping her waist attempt to control her movements, how much she grinds down onto him, but he’s distracted sucking on her nipples, and she’s got one hand in his hair and another pressed against his chest.
Fuck, she breathes, or maybe he does, or maybe they both do because suddenly they’re both reaching for the other’s waistbands, and they’re both laughing as their hands fumble into each other. She shifts off him, sitting next to him long enough to struggle out of her jeans. When she turns back, he’s taken off everything -- jeans and underwear alike, and she’s distracted enough by his cock that she doesn’t notice the heated look he’s giving her.
She reaches out to stroke him, and for a minute he just groans, his head falling back, but when her mouth starts to move south, he pulls her away. “You’re going to kill me,” he mutters, his voice lowers and raspier and she’s delighted.
“Let me.”
He groans again, shifting so he’s kneeling on the bed in front of her, gripping each of her wrists so she can’t grab at him. “Knock it off. I’m not going to last.” This just delights her further, and she tries to pull her wrists away, but he just pushes her down to pin her to the bed. “Behave,” he mutters into her neck, sucking at the spot her neck and shoulder meet.
Distracted, she doesn’t notice when her hands are released, but definitely notices when one of his hands slides underneath the panties she had deliberately left on, a finger slipping between her folds and coming away wet. “Fuck,” he muttered into her neck, his fingers brushing teasingly against her clit before pulling out, moving up to knead her breast.
She groaned, pressing her hips up against his, the only thing separating them the thin cotton of her panties, and he moaned in turn. He sat up, enough to hook his fingers in the fabric and tug them down. “Fair’s fair,” he said, and she could only laugh as he divested her of their last piece of clothing.
And then he was just staring down at her, and she was just staring up at him, at a standstill now this was actually happening, right now, and she was sure she should feel uncomfortable since she was naked in her bed with a guy kneeling between her legs, but he was smiling down at her, his eyes dark, his hands pressing against her thighs, and she didn’t feel awkward at all.
“Jimin, not to rush you or anything, but I have condoms in the nightstand.”
“What? Why?”
“I mean, this is kind of the why,” she laughed, pushing herself up from the bed and wrapping around him. His hands moved to support her, holding her still when she sought to rock against him, cursing under his breath.
“Can you hang on a minute? Shit,” he muttered, pushing her off his lap when she managed to slide her wet heat against his cock.
She’s laughing as she turns away, stretching to pull open the bedside drawer and pull out a condom. He’s watching her when she turns back, his eyes going from the packet in her hand back to her eyes. “Thanks,” he says shyly, smiling. “I guess I shouldn’t say I didn’t think about it, but --” he stops abruptly when she rips the foil open, reaching for him. Automatically he grabs her wrists to stop her, and she looks at him questioningly.
“It’s fine. It’s easier for me to buy them anyway.” He just huffs out a breath in answer, because really, he should have thought about this, but he’d been so distracted by her that the actual process of… getting to this, hadn’t crossed his mind.
“Still, I should have at least mentioned it,” he started, but she just shook her head.
“Why? You have enough to worry about.”
“This is important though. I’m the one that’s supposed to take care of this. Or at least, you know, mention it.” At that, she determinedly tugged her hands free, one hand gripping the base of his cock and the other sliding the condom down slowly.
“Jimin.”
“Hmm?”
“Shut up.”
He groaned, reaching to pull her against him, pushing them both down into the bed. Nipping at her neck, one hand reached between them to brush against her center and then position himself at her entrance.
“This is okay, right? You’re okay?” He muttered into her neck, and her response was a low moan.
“I’m okay. Jimin, I swear, everything is okay but if you don’t --” he laughed, cutting off her frustration as he pushed slowly into her.
Everything stilled, and after a moment her hands ran down his back to cup his ass, pressing him further into her while he groaned into her neck. Her legs came up to press into his sides, one of his hands moving to grip it while he pushed into her, his movements becoming more frantic as she moaned and squirmed under him. His face was pressed into her neck, muttering fuck over and over as he got closer, finally coming with a low groan.
He collapsed on her, and one of her hands wandered up to play with his hair. It was only a minute -- or a year -- before he rolled off of her with a groan, leaving them both splayed on their backs, side to side on the bed.
They were both silent until he threw an arm over his eyes.
“So, uh, I don’t want to say I missed it but, did you… I mean, did you…?” He trailed off, and she turned her head to peer at him and saw the flush across his cheeks and down his neck.
She couldn’t help but chuckle, even if it was at the expense of the frustration still welling inside of her. “Uh, no.”
He groaned, and his free hand came flying at her to squeeze the thigh he could reach.
“On a scale of one to ten, how much did I fuck up?”
He could feel her shift on the bed, but wasn’t expecting the laughter or the way she pulled his arm away from his face. He’d been avoiding looking at her, but the glee on her face put him at ease.
“It happens. You can take care of me later,” she added, grinning down at him cheekily, and she startles a laugh out of him.
“I just need a minute. Or maybe five.” He’s not entirely sure he’ll ever be able to move again from the bed, but when she falls back next to him with a sigh, he decides to make a valiant effort.
“Where’s your bathroom?” He asked, again embarrassed, but she simply tells him it’s down the hall. He clambers off the bed, muttering something about having to clean up, and she shrugs mentally.
Really, she had meant what she said -- so long as she got off at some point here, it didn’t matter that he’d been fast and needy, but she’d been close from the friction she’d managed to get in, and she kind of wanted to punch a wall, but then he was back, pressing her into the bed again and kissing her.
“I don’t know how to touch you,” he says, pulling away slightly to lean on his side again, a hand pausing on her stomach. Her eyes shut, and desperately, one of her hands entwined with his, dragging it down to press where she wanted it most, her hips pushing against their hands involuntarily.
“Just, like this,” she mutters, as one of his fingers drags the gathered moisture around and swirls against her clit before rubbing alongside it. She lets out a ragged breath and her eyes open, their gaze meeting. She whimpers, because she’s sensitive and close and he’s looking right at her while her own hand guides his, and her eyes snap shut as she blushes because a few moments later she’s coming, and he’s leaning forward to nuzzle at her neck.
“You’re amazing,” he mumbled, and she is still coming down from the aftershocks because his fingers are still lightly pressing against her, moving, but manages to half-choke, half-laugh.
“So are you.”
He chuckles into her skin, before he’s moving down, and it takes her a minute to realize what he’s doing. He’s got his arms looped under her legs, his hands pressed down into her hips and his tongue trailing up her thigh before she shudders and reaches down to tug at his hair.
“You don’t have to,” she said, and she makes eye contact with him, his head between her thighs, and she can feel his breath on her when he simply says, “I want to.”
With a groan, all she can do is buck her thighs up when his tongue touches her, running up and down her opening before focusing on her clit. At first it’s slow strokes, but then he starts experimenting, flicking and swirling with more precision than his fingers had allowed.
She’s writhing on the bed as he eats her out, her hips bucking and mumbling curse words until she comes again, the second time somehow more frantic than the first had been.
He slides up to kiss her, and she can taste herself on his lips, his tongue, and it’s heady and, she thinks, sweet. Sweet of him to do it, even after she offered him an out. Even after she’d already come once.
He sprawls next to her again, and this time it’s her panting. He, she notices, is just grinning with his eyes closed. She nudges him, and his eyes meet hers.
“Stop it.”
“I can’t help it. I’m happy.” She laughs at him, sitting up to try to pull the blanket out from underneath them. He shifts to oblige her, and she tugs it over them, laying back down next to him.
“Yeah. I guess I am too.” It’s his turn to laugh, and he pulls her closer so she can rest her head on his chest. She ends up throwing an arm over him, the sweat cooling fast enough that she’s chilled and wants his body heat. And the chance to keep touching him isn’t bad.
“You guess? I’m pretty sure I proved my manhood.”
“Yeah, I guess you did,” she yawned, patting his chest.
“Twice.”
“Yes, Jimin. Twice.” One of his hands ran down her side, caressing her before falling away. “Go to sleep, Jimin.”
He chuckled softly. “Fine.”