Chapter Text
jungkook is bad at being drunk.
taehyung knows this, and drags him out to a club anyway.
dresses him in leather pants so tight he worries he might never get them off again, in a silk shirt that feels too cold against his skin, and presses jewels to the crease of his eyes, wings his eyeliner and draws hearts on his cheeks.
jungkook leaves the house feeling very gay, mostly.
“it’s going to be fun,” taehyung had said, as if he time-traveled to tomorrow and lived through it already and is now very kindly informing jungkook of a fact. and not an opinion based on very little, except for taehyung’s own proclivity to let loose at clubs, and jungkook’s horrible alcohol tolerance (and how well he dances when he’s drunk.)
“it’s not going to be fun,” jungkook had said. fact.
he was wrong.
it is fun, a little, because he’s like, five shots in and they’re all hitting him at once, buzzing warm through his chest and stomach, swiping blurry fingers over his vision until he feels dizzy all over. in a good way, though.
he’s dancing, hand fisted in taehyung’s shirt so he doesn’t trip, swaying in time to the music. taehyung is making very lecherous comments at him, giggling in between, groping his waist and chest and ass, and jungkook is mostly just laughing and letting him.
it’s fun, it really is, the music pounds in his chest and feet, rumbles him from toe to head, and he moves without really thinking.
“i’m gonna get more shots,” taehyung shouts at him, waits for jungkook to nod and let go of his (now wrinkled) shirt before being engulfed by the crowd.
jungkook is good at dancing by himself, too, so he just closes his eyes and moves, lets the kick and snare move him forward. something slower comes on, something less upbeat and deeper, something he’s sure will get any and all couples on the floor aggressively making out.
he’s blinking his eyes open, searching for taehyung’s head of hair above the crowd, when someone slides a hand around his waist, one up his chest. he looks and it’s jimin, giggling at him. jungkook grins.
“hi,” he shouts over the music (it might be slower but it’s still loud ), “when’d you get here?”
“a while ago,” jimin tells him, dropping the charade and instead loosely hooking a finger through jungkook’s belt loop, swaying absently in time. “got caught up with someone, but they left.”
“oh,” jungkook says, more to himself than anything.
that, too. jimin is JIMIN, to jungkook. and jungkook is not the same to him. he knows he never will be, he’s moved past it. but hearing about jimin’s escapades always leaves a sour taste in his mouth, something he can never quite shake until the next day, the day after.
“wanna dance,” jimin asks, tugging him closer. jungkook nods, and lets jimin loop his arms around his waist, shift closer so he stops getting knocked around.
jungkook isn’t really sure where to put his hands.
jimin solves that problem, because he shoots him a look and then pulls back to pat jungkook’s sides and then his own in demonstration. jungkook snorts, but palms jimin’s waist and tries not to think too hard about it. the muscles moving under his hands, the warm skin even through his shirt. it looks a bit like they’re slow-dancing, so he leans into jimin’s ear and asks—
“wanna dance properly? ”
jimin laughs, but nods and soon they’re really in it, jungkook leans his chin into jimin’s shoulder and moves the way he wants to, rolls his body in time with the music and forgets where his hands are.
jimin is close, he’s close and he’s warm, their chests keep brushing, their knees keep knocking.
jungkook knows he’s blushing, and some of it is from the alcohol.
some of it isn’t the alcohol at all.
jimin’s breath is against his neck, his arms loose and hands just barely lingering over jungkook’s hair until his fingers slide in completely, fist in jungkook’s hair sweaty with the past thirty minutes of dance, tug him closer.
jungkook ends up with his nose in jimin’s neck, and squeezes his eyes shut, feels the heat rolling off him in waves, the buzzing in the air. jimin’s free hand is somewhere on his chest, stomach, and jungkook has no idea when it became skin to skin and not skin to t-shirt, but it has. jimin’s palm warm on his waist, back. exploring.
they’re still moving together, jimin’s hips rolling into his, thigh somewhere dangerously close between his legs.
jungkook should be thinking harder about this, but everything feels hazy and this feels good and so he lets jimin do it, lets him pull away and slide both his hands under his shirt, lets him press them chest to chest and lets him press his mouth to jungkook’s shoulder through the fabric, warm and wet and hot.
jungkook closes his eyes and breathes, jimin’s perfume, alcohol, sweat. jimin’s mouth on his neck, now, lips dragging messy against his skin, thigh pressed heavy between his legs.
it takes jungkook a moment to catch up, caught up in his own hands on jimin’s waist and his own nose pressed into jimin’s neck, but when he does— when he realizes jimin is pressing wet kisses to his neck, swaying them in time with his thigh nudged between jungkook’s— his mouth falls open, and he digs his face into jimin’s shoulder.
he feels it stab him through the stomach, feels the heat spread in slow waves up and up until his face is warm warm warm. he feels stretched taught and feels too much all at once, when jimin nips at his ear, jaw, sucks a hickey to the sensitive skin at the crook of his neck, his jugular.
he doesn’t even realize he’s making sound, until jimin murmurs something and jungkook misses it entirely.
“w-what,” he asks, and wow that is so breathy and borderline a whimper and he did not expect himself to sound like that. he’s not sure he’s sounded like that, ever .
jimin chuckles, rough and low and pleased, against his skin. his hands are up his shirt, still, pressing into his chest.
“i said you sound pretty, gguk-ah.”
“oh,” jungkook breathes, and buries his face further into jimin’s neck.
his mind caught up with the lips on his neck and the thigh between his legs, but it has yet to catch up with the fact that it’s jimin doing this. he can worry about it later. right now, he’s a little distracted.
jimin hums against his neck, pulls back and starts dragging his mouth down his chest, stopping just at the neckline of his shirt. hands still burning on his chest, his stomach, roaming. he feels jimin laugh more than sees it.
“needy, hm?” jimin hums, reaching up to press his mouth, hot and wet, to jungkook’s collarbone, gets spit over the silk shirt but jungkook can’t bring himself to care.
“what,” jungkook asks again, somewhere dangerously close to a whimper.
his head is spinning off his shoulders, heat pounding steadily in his gut, and he wants. he wants.
jimin shifts his thigh forward, and jungkook muffles the noise pulled from him into jimin’s shirt. and then his mind catches up again, and he realizes a little too late he’s been grinding on jimin’s thigh, rutting against the muscle chasing friction, and he’s definitely sporting a semi.
“um.”
“so cute,” jimin purrs, and mouths at his jaw again.
jimin trails a hand down his chest, stomach, lets his fingers tug at the hem of jungkook’s pants before he trails them lower and then palms the bulge in his pants, warm and heavy.
jungkook gasps. his mind catches up.
“wh— hyung, um—”
“what is it, baby, tell me,” jimin hums, mouth preoccupied again.
“um— i don’t— what,” jungkook stutters, because why is jimin doing this, is it because the person he was with went home? is jungkook just the replacement, is that it. he doesn’t want to be used.
jimin seems to catch the panic in his voice, because he pulls back and looks.
and, okay. jungkook is— he assumed jimin would be cool, collected. had seen it before, when he’d danced with people at clubs and then took them home. the easy confidence, the suave smile and flushed cheeks, the easy laugh and the hooded eyes.
not this, the eyes pitch black and intense, face flushed and lips parted and slick with saliva, hair tousled. eyes hazy, eyes half-gone already. jungkook swallows hard.
“thought you were into it,” jimin starts, “but if you’re not we can stop, ‘s okay—”
“no,” jungkook blurts, rushes to say it, because dear god he couldn’t give a fuck if he’s being used if it has jimin touching him like that.
jimin smiles, something slow and cocky. jungkook goes even redder, somehow.
“no, it’s fine," he continues, flustered, "just, i wasn’t— expecting it, why—”
“HEY GUYS!” shouts taehyung, shoving past the crowd toward them. he looks about as drunk as he did before, but when he stumbles jungkook realizes he definitely has had a couple more shots.
jimin steps away from him, hand slipping from under his shirt to rest instead on his waist, which by comparison seems extremely innocent. jungkook swallows hard, and adjusts his shirt so it very artfully covers his crotch area.
jimin seems to notice this, and shoots him a look, half a smile and the same pitch-black eyes. cocky.
is he a replacement, because jimin didn’t get any? it’s that same easy confidence, now, he sees it here. he doesn’t have time to think about it, though, because soon taehyung has shoved his way to them and he’s grabbing jungkook’s arm.
“let’s dance, bitches,” he announces, and then throws himself into it.
jungkook laughs but follows. soon the heat in his stomach has calmed, replaced instead by a nice warm, when taehyung grabs his hand and swings their arms in time with the music.
part of him is glad that taehyung is here, because god knows how far they were going to go if he hadn’t shown up. he wonders if jimin would have dragged him off the dance floor, would have taken him home like the people he always does. they fucking live together, for fuck’s sake.
oh, he didn’t even think of that. uh oh.
it does not end up being uh oh.
taehyung climbs into the uber home with them, sits in the seat between them, and then jungkook is too drunk and too tired to really say or think anything when jimin leads them upstairs, unlocks the door and then disappears into his room.
jungkook crashes into bed, cheeks still warm and hair sticking to his neck, and falls asleep before he can think too hard about the person one room over.
he’s trying to douse his headache with coffee when jimin walks into the living room.
jungkook blinks hard, and sticks his nose into his mug. he’s sat at the dining table, legs tucked under the chair, reading through his essay before he submits it. he’s busy. he does not have time to think about jimin or what they did last night.
that’s his plan, at least. it’s his plan, when he listens to jimin clutter around in the kitchen, grab a mug and pour himself coffee too. it’s his plan, until jimin sets his mug down on the counter with a clink and says—
“last night was okay, right?”
jungkook is very strategically mid-gulp, and hums noncommittally. he hears the fridge open.
“do we not have any pad thai leftover? did you finish it?”
“i ate it, yeah,” jungkook mumbles. did he just successfully avoid the question? was it seriously that simple?
“if it wasn’t okay, you can tell me,” jimin continues. apparently not. jungkook swallows hard, and stares unseeing at his concluding paragraph. “i don’t wanna make you uncomfortable.”
“you didn’t,” jungkook says. he almost wants to laugh. what part of the way he acted said uncomfortable. he was basically begging for it. “and it was fine. just came out of left field.”
“hm,” jimin hums. jungkook hears the clink of the mug, the spoon against it as jimin stirs in milk. “what d’you want for lunch?”
why did you do it burns on the tip of his tongue, because apparently jimin has no plans to answer that question and jungkook is so, so curious. bewildered.
he did not at all think jimin saw him that way, not in the slightest. but the evidence is right in front of him.
he knows sex isn’t as much of a thing, for jimin. knows he takes people home ( knows, a little too much, there have been many nights of listening to music when he doesn’t particularly want to) and knows he’s a little brazen about it, will tell them about his hookups, if they were good or not.
knows it comes easy to him, knows he likes it. so maybe it’s more casual? maybe it’s just— jimin wanted something, and jungkook was close and willing.
maybe it means less to him.
jungkook swallows hard. he genuinely has no idea if jimin knows he’s a virgin.
it’s not like he hasn’t taken people home himself, has given and received many things in his bedroom, but has never gone all the way. it’s always people he knows a little bit— the girl in his intro to psych class, the guy he spent the night talking to at a bar.
he knows his way around, but he’s never quite found the right person. not for something like that.
“maybe japchae?” jimin asks.
right person. jungkook wonders if he would have let jimin take him home, last night, if he would have, in his drunk stupor, believed jimin was the right person. maybe.
maybe. he would let jimin do a lot.
“sure,” he says, and takes a long sip of his coffee. “i’m going over to yoongi’s, later.”
jimin clutters around in the kitchen a little more, pulls out pots and pans, a chopping board.
“okay,” jimin says, finally, and jungkook wonders what it is he keeps hearing in his voice, when he mentions yoongi. it’s always there. sees it in his eyes too, when jungkook sinks into yoongi’s side and listens to him talk, plays with his fingers and tells him his hands are too bony.
he has no idea what it is.
he goes over to yoongi’s, later, and tells him. yoongi reacts about how he expects— hums, purses his lips, and pinches his brow.
“and he came up to you?”
“yeah,” jungkook nods.
he’s having water, at yoongi’s recommendation. some chips. probably too many advils. yoongi is cross-legged on the couch, absently fiddling with a new track on his laptop. jungkook is watching him from the dining table, legs kicking.
"i still—" he huffs, "he hasn’t explained anything. just made sure it was okay, this morning. and that’s it.”
“i mean,” yoongi frowns. “he might not think it’s a big deal. the reason might just be because i wanted to. ”
“yes,” jungkook sighs. “yeah, i know. i had to go and make it complicated. with my feelings. ”
“with your feelings,” yoongi agrees. stands, and stretches. “you could always ask him, you know.”
“i know,” jungkook whines. “but i’m trying not to think about it.”
jimin’s voice in his ear, low and sultry, lips against his neck, the way he’d said baby, the way he’d touched him, the way he’d held jungkook and told him he sounded pretty.
jungkook is almost certain he’s never been spoken to like that in his life.
“then i don’t know what to tell you,” yoongi sighs, padding to the kitchen. “do you want more food? i’ve got leftovers i’m willing to split.”
“no, i just had lunch,” jungkook groans, thinking of the japchae jimin had left out for him. how he’d eaten his own in the privacy of his room. he’s reading into things too much, jimin probably just had work and wanted quiet instead of jungkook watching k-drama reruns on TV.
he spends the rest of his afternoon at yoongi’s, doing nothing in particular. jungkook kind of just needed space away from jimin, somewhere to recover from his hangover and think without the person he’s thinking about right in his face.
yoongi shows him a few tracks, lets him sing the lyrics and tells him when he can come in and record for that one r&b track he fell in love with.
he takes a nap on his couch while yoongi is in the shower, and goes home feeling better.
they’re making dinner. or: jimin is making dinner while jungkook watches.
he is technically supposed to be helping, but mostly he’s struggling to chop the onions and squinting the tears out of his eyes while jimin whips around the kitchen at lightspeed doing everything.
“ow,” he winces quietly, when his hand slips and he slices a neat line into his finger. frowns, brings it to his mouth and sucks.
“what happened,” jimin calls over his shoulder, caught up in pots and pans that are clattering so loudly jungkook has no idea how he even heard.
“no, just— cut my finger,” jungkook mumbles, taste of copper blood in his mouth. he can’t really see much, not through the onion-tears, and he wipes a sleeve over his eyes.
“ouch,” jimin hisses, and then there’s a hand on his waist, nudging him to the side. “bandaid, no? don’t just stand there.”
“i am in pain,” jungkook protests, choosing to focus on that instead of how jimin had palmed his waist and moved him over easy, easy. “and blind, mind you. don’t be rude to me.”
“i will be plenty rude,” jimin hums absently, rustling through the drawer for the box of bandaids he seems convinced is in there. “run it under water, get the onion juices or whatever out of it.”
“oh,” jungkook realizes, because yeah, it stings and he had no idea why. he shuffles over to the sink, makes a blind grab for the faucet. “what the fuck.”
a laugh, and then jimin’s fingers around his wrist as he guides jungkook’s hand to the knob. jungkook flushes pink, but runs his cut under the water and then splashes some in his face for good measure, because his eyes sting too.
“c’mere,” jimin says, nudging his elbow. jungkook wipes the water from his eyes, blinks them open and sees clearly for the first time in like, fifteen minutes. monumental.
jimin is occupied with peeling the packaging from the bandaid. jungkook pads over, leans against the counter and watches.
“you got it?” he laughs, when jimin still can’t peel it back.
“fuck you,” jimin grumbles, and finally gets it. “gimme.”
jungkook offers his hand and jimin takes it in gentle fingers, carefully wraps the bandaid around his index, pats it down.
“good?” he asks quietly.
jungkook nods. doesn’t really dare move, when jimin is standing close in front of him like this. still holding his hand with gentle fingers, cold against the heat of his palm.
jimin looks up at him. pitch black.
jungkook swallows hard. jimin guides his hand down, places it gently over his own waist. jungkook wraps his fingers around, tentative. the air between them trembles.
jimin takes a breath.
“can i—”
“yeah,” jungkook breathes. jimin reaches up, and kisses him. jungkook didn’t expect it, assumed he was saying yes to more lips to his neck and thighs between his and not this, jimin’s lips to his, pressing firm and the tongue against his bottom lip, hungry and wanting more.
he parts his mouth, lets jimin kiss him slow and deep against the counters, hands creeping warm up his hoodie.
his head spins and they’re not drunk now, they’re not drunk and jimin is still kissing him, licking into his mouth and swallowing each choked sound jungkook makes with a hunger so intense it leaves jungkook’s chest heaving, his hands trembling.
he feels the heat stab him through the stomach again, when jimin’s thumb swipes under the hem of his pants, his nails drag in the dip of jungkook’s back. feels it so much and it bursts from his chest.
“fuck,” he mumbles, and jimin’s lips curl up against his.
“like that?” jimin asks. drags his nails up jungkook’s back again. jungkook shivers, whimper falling neatly from his mouth into jimin’s.
fuck, he thinks desperately, heat shrieking through his stomach, chest, neck. everywhere. he wants, god does he want.
he grabs blindly and pulls jimin against him, remembers he can kiss back and does. pushes jimin back and back until they knock into the cabinets on the other side of the kitchen, until he’s the one pressing jimin’s back into the edge of the counters, hands abandoning his waist in favor of cupping his jaw, holding his face and holding him there. trembling breaths between them.
“HELLO!” shouts taehyung through the door.
they startle apart.
jungkook pulls away gasping, mouth still hanging open. jimin breathes hard against him. their hips are flush, and jungkook is trying not to think too hard about it.
he’s buzzing everywhere. he feels drunk but he’s not.
jimin looks frazzled, like he didn’t expect jungkook to push him back at all. his eyes are lingering on jungkook’s lips, pupils blown so dark and so wide and his cheeks are flushed deep red. hands still burning their ghosts into jungkook’s skin, thumb toying with the hem of his boxers.
jungkook stares at him. jimin stares back and nearly steals the breath from him again.
“HELLO?” shouts taehyung again.
jimin looks at him a moment more, swallowing down gulps of air and clearly trying to decide whether he should answer the door or not. his eyes keep flicking down, up, down again. like he can’t quite believe what just happened.
jungkook swallows dryly. his mouth, his tongue, still taste like jimin when he licks his lips. he lets his hands drop from jimin’s face, and takes a shaky breath.
jimin echoes him, takes a shaky breath and then nudges jungkook aside to answer the door.
jungkook watches him go, and realizes in a flash that taehyung will know everything, the second he steps inside and sees them disheveled. so he very quickly pads to his room, stumbles over the kicked-up floorboard in the hallway and mutters an offended fuck before he closes his bedroom door behind him and presses his back to it like some teenager in a shitty rom-com.
he still hasn’t caught his breath.
“holy shit,” he murmurs, knocking his head back against the door. closes his eyes.
holy shit.
the next morning, they go for lunch at seokjin’s place.
jimin texts him, genuinely texts him as if he’s not barely thirty feet away and one wall over, that he’s going over early to help them set up. and then promptly leaves the apartment at 9am for a brunch that starts at 11:30.
jungkook spent a very long ten minutes, last night, listening to jimin get teased by taehyung, all varieties of whew, did you just get some? and wowwww, where’s he hidden? . listened to jimin laugh it off, give vague answers, change the subject to the food they forgot to finish cooking.
so maybe it is a big deal, to jimin. or at least, it’s not not a big deal. it’s something.
jungkook spends an even longer ten minutes, when jimin has padded into his room and turned off the lights, trying his best not to let his mind wander. they haven’t even really done anything, all jimin did was touch his chest and say filthy things to him and already he’s riled up, too tense and toes curled against the sheets, trying not to jerk off to the thought of his best friend.
god. this is a bad idea, probably.
they keep doing it.
jungkook shows up at brunch late, mostly because the willpower he mustered last night didn’t last when he stepped in the shower, and jimin shoots him a look. jungkook wonders if magically, somehow, he knows.
which is ridiculous, but he worries anyway.
jimin sits next to him at brunch, which jungkook thinks might be on purpose and then learns is definitely on purpose when jimin reaches for the water pitcher and sits back down with his hand on jungkook’s thigh. fingers curled into the soft skin of his inner thigh, thumb running up and down.
jungkook feels the heat creep up his neck, and glances at yoongi. who is eyeing the hand, eyebrows raised in somewhere between what the fuck is that and i can’t believe he is doing this in front of me. it’s all jungkook can do but bear it, sit there with the heat warming the back of his neck and try his best to listen to the conversation, as if jimin isn’t about to burn a hand-shaped print through his sweats.
after brunch they migrate to the couch, and jimin sits opposite him. which jungkook thinks means he can actually pay attention to the conversation, for once, but then jimin pulls a lollipop out of fucking nowhere and spends a good five minutes paying it very close attention.
which, in turn, has jungkook paying very close attention to him.
yoongi catches him staring, smacks his hand with an admonishing you might as well be drooling, and jungkook spends about thirty seconds staring down at his hands in shame before he looks again.
god- damn , is jimin good at what he does.
when jungkook doesn’t take that bait, however he’s meant to do so, jimin abandons the lollipop and instead spends the next five minutes eating chips and very slowly licking the salt off his fingers after each one.
jungkook is going to go insane. food? really?
he’s not even sure what jimin wants him to do, if he’s expecting to be dragged aside and kissed into the counters again, or if he just wants to see jungkook squirm.
jungkook thinks it might be the latter when jimin catches his eye for the first time in a while, and his lips quirk up cocky at the edges, eyes pitch black and amused. pleased. jungkook swallows hard, and presses his legs together.
jimin follows the movement, lazy, slow. drags his eyes back up, and lingers pointedly over his arms, his chest. meets his gaze again, and then winks. continues licking the salt off his fingers.
jungkook wants to climb into his lap and press him into the couch so hard it leaves an imprint.
he settles for taking a steadying breath, and trapping his hands under his thighs.
when they get bored with talking, seokjin suggests a movie, and they all jump on it immediately. jungkook is so thankful for a reason to look anywhere but jimin, and watches despicable me 2 as if it’ll save his life.
thread > jimin
jimin
> bathroom
> now
jungkook squints at the brightness of his phone, hears yoongi in his ear asking who is it, and then swallows hard when he reads the texts. glances up and sees jimin already gone.
jimin has a lot of faith in him, apparently. that he’ll go. what if he really likes this movie, huh, then what. he can make jimin squirm right back. yeah, definitely.
he’s at the bathroom before he even registers he’s walking.
god. it’s a bad idea, probably.
he pulls the door open and then there’s a hand fisting in his shirt and dragging him inside, slamming him against the door once it’s shut. his breath catches in his throat.
jimin’s eyes are so dark he could drown in them.
jungkook is kind of already sporting a semi, which is a little embarrassing, but then jimin kisses him and chases him down against the door and he forgets to be embarrassed about anything. just lets himself be kissed, feels his head spin, dizzy and drunk off the feeling of jimin’s tongue sliding against his, jimin’s thigh nudged between his, jimin’s hands pushing up his sides.
he’s not drunk but that doesn’t matter, now, so he grinds his hips down and feels jimin’s breath catch in his throat rather than hears it, when he rolls his hips forward and whimpers at the drag of fabric over his cock, already leaking precum in his sweats.
he can feel everything, now, it’s sharp without the alcohol, and they’re both in sweats rather than leather pants. he rolls his hips forward again, ends up breaking the kiss to gasp and knock his head back against the door, eyes rolling back.
jimin wastes no time finding his neck again, dragging hot wet kisses down the line of his adam’s apple, shifting his thigh up in time with jungkook’s hips. jungkook's hips moving in shy, uncoordinated circles, messy, chasing and chasing and not quite getting it. feels jimin’s lips curl into a smile against his neck, and wow this is a lot, this is a lot and there is so much heat building in his stomach it hurts, it lights his skin on fire with every drag of fabric against his cock.
he grips jimin’s waist, muffles his moans into his shoulder. he’s being desperate, he knows he is, but jimin seems to love it, presses words into his skin he doesn’t even really hear. just chases his orgasm, ruts his hips forward faster, nails digging into jimin’s side, mouth breathing hot and heavy into his neck.
“so pretty, baby,” jimin murmurs, drags his tongue along the line of his collarbone, “so fucking pretty, gguk-ah, love how you sound.”
“ shit, ” jungkook gasps, squeezing his eyes shut.
god, he’s going to come like this, he really is. oh, that’s not— not in his pants, surely. he slows, a little, despite the heat in a frenzy in his stomach, his chest.
“fuck,” he breathes, and then feels jimin’s hands come down, wrap around his hips. guide him forward.
“what’re you doing,” jimin murmurs, “c’mon, pretty, come for me. know you’re close. c’mon.”
jungkook shakes out a breath, rolls his hips forward again, cautiously. jimin huffs out a laugh, presses an absent kiss to his neck.
“c’mon, baby,” he encourages, “got you. come for me, come in your pants, pretty, i got you. don’t worry.”
“shit,” jungkook breathes, but clenches his jaw and lets himself go again, drags his hips in a line against jimin’s thigh and feels the heat spike into a frenzy again, feels the white come in and cloud his head as he chases, pressing muffled whines into jimin’s skin.
“come for me,” jimin murmurs, “got you, gguk-ah, come for me.”
“ fuck, ” jungkook whines, squeezing his hands tight around jimin’s sides. chases, chases.
jimin pulls back, and kisses him. knocks him back against the door, and kisses him open-mouthed and sloppy, jungkook’s breaths coming in hard pants, whines caught in his throat. he comes like that, comes with jimin’s thigh pressed hard and heavy between his legs, hips circling desperately, nails digging into his sides and jimin’s lips on his, hands smoothing down his chest.
“pretty, pretty,” jimin praises, trailing kisses down his neck. lets jungkook catch his breath. “sound so good when you come, gguk-ah, love how you sound. did so well for me, hm? baby did so well.”
“fuck,” jungkook breathes, squeezing his eyes closed. fuck.
he just came in his pants untouched, like a fucking high-schooler. jimin didn’t even have to put a hand on his dick, just had to tell him to go and kiss his neck and that’s all it took.
“take care of me now, hm?” jimin murmurs, lips still pressed to his neck. lets some of the shake enter his voice, the edge. “been so patient, watching you. touch me too, gguk-ah.”
“fuck,” jungkook murmurs, for the millionth time. but does, of course he does.
he’s not really sure what to do, but touches how he wants to. slips his hands under jimin’s shirt, touches. runs his hands over skin, slides a thumb under the hem of his pants. finds jimin’s cock hard in his boxers, slick with precum. it doesn’t take long, not at all, for jungkook to touch him and get him gasping into his neck.
“yeah,” jimin gasps, “yeah, just like that, gguk—”
“mm,” jungkook hums in response, speeding his hand and pressing his lips to jimin’s neck, dragging his mouth down the way he’s seen and felt jimin do. hears the breath hitch in his throat, feels the nails digging into his back.
jimin is in his ear, making such pretty sounds, shaking against him. jungkook wonders if he could come again, just listening.
“sound good too, hyung,” he tells him. his voice is so wrecked it’s not even funny.
“oh fuck, ” jimin breathes, clinging to him. jungkook likes this too, likes watching him fall apart. likes feeling it, the tremble of a chest against his, the way he slurs his words, the hands clutching blindly to his sides.
“come for me too, hyung,” jungkook murmurs, presses a hot kiss to the nape of his neck, his collarbone. “come for me too, you sound so good, love how you sound too—”
jungkook wraps an arm around him as he comes, which ends up being a good idea because he’s pretty sure jimin’s knees give out briefly before he comes up and presses his face into jungkook’s shoulder, breathing hard.
jungkook laughs at nothing, really, brings a hand up and cups the back of jimin’s neck, waits for him to catch his breath too.
“holy fuck,” jimin says, when he’s not panting anymore. “i cannot believe the person you turn into, like this.”
jungkook smiles, and he’s glad his chin is hooked over jimin’s shoulder because otherwise it would be embarrassing.
“what does that mean,” he asks.
“you just— god,” jimin sighs, and pulls back. looks at him long and hard. something reverent, in how he drags his eyes across jungkook's face, takes it all in. “god,” he repeats. “you just— it’s like you—”
“speechless, hm?” jungkook grins, and jimin makes a face.
“no, you just,” jimin takes a breath, gathers his thoughts. his cheeks are still flushed, eyes a little wild. “just know what you want. and you’re very— normally you’re quiet, i didn’t expect you to be so— vocal.”
“makes me feel good, want you to know it too,” jungkook says simply. watches the heat find jimin’s cheeks quick, quick. quirks a smile.
“okay, well,” jimin says, and glances around. jungkook is still pressed against the door. he feels tired, good tired. his boxers are sticky. that’s less good. “i think we need an excuse to leave. i am not sitting around in this.”
jungkook laughs. “yeah,” he agrees. straightens from where he’d slid down on the door, lets his arms drop from jimin’s waist. “i guess— we could take our boxers off, go commando? i really do wanna watch despicable me.”
jimin eyes him. “you’re serious. oh my god. okay, sure, commando. because you want to watch despicable me so badly.”
“it’s a good movie,” jungkook protests weakly. his legs still feel weak, feel like jello.
part of him still can’t believe they’re really doing this, that jimin teased him all afternoon and then they hooked up in the bathroom. seokjin’s bathroom. he catches seokjin’s face masks in the corner, the lotion he uses. yeah. mood effectively killed.
they pad back out and very discreetly disappear to the entryway to deposite boxers in jungkook’s backpack, wrapped up very carefully, and then jimin spends an extra five minutes in the kitchen while jungkook joins yoongi on the couch again.
“that was a while,” yoongi whispers to him. “stomach problems?”
“yup,” jungkook nods, and prays that his cheeks aren’t burning.
“plain foods,” yoongi tells him.
“sure,” jungkook nods again.
jimin joins them a few minutes later with a glass of water as an excuse, shoots him a look as he does. cocky, still. jungkook smiles, hides it in his palm.
bad idea, probably. they’re definitely going to do it again.
thread > seokjin
seokjin 9:03 am
> did you and jimin hook up in my bathroom last night
jk
> haha
> what no
> ???
> are you serious
seokjin
> jungkook…………
jk
> LISTEN.
seokjin
> JUNGKOOK NO
> WHYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY
> ARE YOU SERIOUS????
jk
> no lmao
seokjin
> ………… i cant tell if youre joking
jk
> why do you think we hooked up in your bathroom anyway
seokjin
> because you both disappeared for a good like, half an hour
> and then reappeared looking very relaxed and satisfied
> and also my bathroom smelled very suspiciously like febreze, when i went in to brush my teeth
jk
> ……..
> hm interesting evidence
thread > jimin
jk
> [Attached: 1 Screenshot]
jimin
> oops
> also could you be any more obvious
jk
> i am bad at lying ok
thread > seokjin
jk
> haha well no idea what ur talking about
> def didnt hook up
seokjin
> right…..
> well.
> hypothetically if you were to not hook up, please dont do it at my place
> i take shits in there, jungkook
> i would assume that kills the mood but i guess not
jk
> i wouldnt know would i
> whether it kills the mood or not
seokjin
> right..
> anyway. i hope you and jimin are being careful
> in your not hooking up
jk
> literally no idea what youre talking about
seokjin
> right.
> so the lollipop…..
jk
> he is so stupidly obvious
> its not like i did anything??????
seokjin
> LMAOOO
> ok well.
> please keep it out of my apartment next time
jk
> there will be no next time bc it didnt happen in the first place
seokjin
> mhm……
jungkook is drunk again.
taehyung dragged him out to another club, and jungkook can’t even really blame him for it because he doesn’t know what happened last time.
jimin is there too, he keeps eyeing jungkook's tight leather pants, and jungkook wonders if jimin will go off and find someone or if he’ll stick by jungkook, pull him close and dance with him again. jungkook really, really hopes it’s the latter.
now that— now that he’s had it, now that jimin has kissed him and held him and made him gasp, he’s not sure the taste in his mouth when he sees jimin doing the same to someone else will fade at all.
in fact, he’s pretty sure it’ll ruin his entire night.
so he’s glad, when they step inside and he directs himself toward the bar, that jimin runs a hand along his waist and follows, presses a quiet you look good into his neck and kisses his jaw, which leaves jungkook to go red and mumble a flustered you look good too and watch jimin laugh fondly.
eventually jimin does get bored of the bar, leaves jungkook there to dance with taehyung, but jungkook can still see him from where he sits and he really is glad that jimin just seems like he’s there to have fun, tonight.
maybe— maybe now that he has jungkook, he doesn’t need to go around picking up people and taking them home? he hopes so.
whatever they’re doing, whatever it is they aren’t really talking about, he hopes it lasts and they don’t fuck it up, because he wants jimin touching him like that and talking to him like that as much as possible.
“hi,” comes a voice from behind him, and he turns. it’s a guy, a bit taller than him (?), big smile. he smiles back politely.
“hi,” he echoes, and the guy gestures to the empty seat jimin left.
“do you mind?” he asks, and then flags the bartender down. “what do you want to drink?”
jungkook didn’t even say yes but the guy sits down anyway. he holds up his strawberry daiquiri with a small smile, a silent i don’t need anything more to drink. the guy snorts, a little, but allows it. orders himself a whiskey, and then leans forward.
“i’m yugyeom, what’s your name?”
“jungkook,” says jungkook. yugyeom seems nice enough, despite everything. his eyes are kind, his smile is kind. jungkook figures he might as well make conversation. “having a good night so far?”
“yeah,” yugyeom smiles, “i don’t do clubs a lot, but tonight’s fun. how ‘bout you?”
“same,” jungkook shoots back with an identical smile.
“cool,” yugyeom chuckles. “you look kinda young, are you still in college? i’m in my senior year.”
jungkook nods. “i’m in my sophomore year,” he says, “what’s your major?”
“business,” says yugyeom, as he rolls his eyes and then makes a gagging motion. “parents, not me. i minor in dance.”
“you dance?” jungkook smiles. “tons of my friends dance, it’s super fun.”
“yeah, it’s great,” yugyeom chuckles. “what’s your major?”
“literature,” jungkook says. yugyeom nods.
“you look like a literature major,” he smiles, and his teeth flash in the light. he reaches out, taps jungkook’s leg, lets his fingers linger. “hey so, there’s a party this weekend at my place, right near campus. i’d love it if you came.”
“oh, i don’t—” jungkook protests, and then realizes it’s stupid to say i don’t do parties if you’re in the middle of a fucking club. “um, i’m probably going to be busy.”
“wow,” yugyeom drawls, playful smile on his lips, “you can say no, you know. you barely know me.”
jungkook goes pink. “i didn’t want to be mean,” he protests weakly, but yugyeom laughs and then pats his knee, palm warm.
“don’t worry about it,” he assures him. “i invite everyone. bigger the better. you really don’t have to come.”
“okay,” jungkook mumbles, and takes a sip from his drink. yugyeom’s hand is still there, lingering. it’s fine, honestly, yugyeom seems nice. he lets it stay there. “so you do parties a lot?”
“mm, sometimes,” yugyeom smiles. “i like clubs, too. you can meet people you wouldn’t normally.”
“you can say that about anything,” jungkook says, lips twitching up. yugyeom flaps a hand at him. “you could say that about the library. or the doctor’s office.”
“i guess so,” yugyeom chuckles. “not my point, but you’re technically right.”
“i was on the debate team in high-school,” jungkook winks, and then takes another sip of his drink. it takes yugyeom a second to absorb this, cheeks coloring before he laughs, hand squeezing jungkook’s knee.
jungkook is about to ask another question, when he feels a warmth against his side and then a hand palming his waist, arm sliding tight around his middle. lips to his ear, low.
“hi, baby,” jimin murmurs, and jungkook goes red terrifyingly fast.
“h-hi,” he replies, heart beating in his throat. wow. okay. wow, that did things to him. jimin squeezes his side, turns and looks at yugyeom.
“who’s this,” he says, with an innocent smile. yugyeom looks a lot like he shouldn’t be here, all of a sudden.
“yugyeom-hyung,” jungkook says, swallowing hard. “um, what— i thought you were dancing—”
“nice to meet you,” jimin says, and extends a hand, the other still firm on jungkook’s waist. yugyeom takes it warily. when jungkook turns and looks, jimin’s eyes are fiery intense, staring yugyeom down, jaw clenched.
a very ridiculous thought enters jungkook’s mind. is he jealous?
jungkook fiddles with his hands, heart still speeding.
“i was dancing,” jimin tells him, in his ear again. presses a kiss to his jaw, another a bit lower. “come dance with me, pretty.”
jungkook is going to lose his mind.
“sure,” he mumbles, sliding off his barstool with jimin’s arm still secure around his middle.
yugyeom watches them eyes wide, looking a bit like he just saw someone get murdered, or something. jungkook has bigger things to worry about. namely, jimin’s hand deftly untucking his shirt and then slipping underneath, running warm up his side. jungkook takes a shaky breath.
“isn’t tae here,” he asks, and jimin laughs into his shoulder.
“left with someone,” is all he says, before he pulls jungkook into the crowd and pushes them together, rolls his hips forward and presses his lips to jungkook’s neck, everything about it slow and dirty and possessive . the hands firm on his waist, the teeth dragging against skin.
jungkook thinks he might have definitely been jealous.
which in turn makes his cheeks burn, and he digs his face into jimin’s neck. they dance for a while, jimin leaving marks on his neck and holding him tight, hands curling possessively around his hips, keeping him close close close.
jungkook feels a lazy heat build in his stomach, warm his chest and part his mouth, feels it buzz in his fingers where he touches jimin.
something intense, something that has him wondering just how far he’d let jimin go, if he asked.
feels the heat cloud his vision, feels his head dizzy with the smell of jimin’s perfume, his hands roaming under his shirt. murmured words, just barely caught over the music, soft look so good tonight, baby, and don’t let go, pretty, keep me close.
jungkook feels a bit like he’s floating, despite jimin’s body rolling slow and dirty against his, the heat pressing in everywhere. feels heady, with jimin’s mouth slick against his neck, jimin’s nails dragging against his skin.
slow heat, burning between them. jungkook knows they’re not going to do anything, but feels it coil in his stomach anyway. feels it settle, and stay there.
when jungkook moves to pull away with an i’m gonna get more drinks, jimin nearly snaps his neck looking up at him, eyes the same intense fire before he realizes what jungkook said and follows him out of the crowd.
when they get to the bar, jimin seems to have cooled, a little, now with jungkook’s fingers toying with the hem of his shirt, jungkook’s feet tangled with his between the stools. (he was definitely jealous. jungkook is trying not to think too hard about what that means.) jimin orders them drinks, and then listens to jungkook tell him about his classes.
jungkook is having a problem: namely that he has no idea if they’re friends or not, right now.
the conversation is friends, no doubt, jimin is cracking jokes and they’re talking about mundane things. but jungkook’s knuckles are brushing the skin of jimin’s stomach, and his neck is covered in marks.
so where are they, right now. somewhere in between?
“hey guys,” taehyung greets, and jungkook pulls his hand back before taehyung reaches them. suddenly has no idea what to do with it and settles for trapping it under his thigh before he turns and replies.
“hi,” he says. taehyung grins at them. his hair is mussed, neck marked, lips swollen. “i thought you took someone home?”
“to the bathroom, more like it,” taehyung winks, and leans between them to flag the bartender down. when he pulls back he turns to jungkook, mouth parting to say something, he promptly stops. his eyes drop to his neck, and jungkook subsequently realizes— oh.
jimin catches his eye, briefly, shoots him a wink.
very helpful, jungkook thinks desperately, as he watches the pieces click for taehyung and wow, okay, they’ve been found out.
“oh. my. god. jungkookie,” taehyung starts, enunciating each word, “did you manage to find someone in this club, for once? that’s a first, i thought me and jimin were the sluts.”
“i—” jungkook starts, and then stops because he’s not even really sure what to say. “um. yes?”
“wowwww,” taehyung drawls, reaching over to poke a finger into the mark purpling by his jaw. “are they hot at least? you didn’t take ‘em home, not after this?”
“what,” jungkook mumbles, cheeks burning. how the hell is he supposed to answer that.
“don’t tell me they were ugly,” taehyung admonishes, poking another finger into his neck.
jungkook very pointedly doesn’t look at jimin. “what— no, they weren’t.”
“hm,” taehyung hums. “i’m surprised you’re still here,” he chuckles, straightening again, “this damage is extensive. why’d you leave ‘em?”
because they’re still here, jungkook thinks desperately, and then glances at jimin. who looks extremely pleased with this whole situation, and jungkook would flip him off but that would make things too obvious.
“um,” he starts, swallowing hard, “wanted drinks.”
“so you got bored,” taehyung nods understandingly, “i see.”
“what— i didn’t get bored,” jungkook blurts, cheeks coloring further. “just wanted drinks.”
“if drinks are more interesting than someone making out with you, i dunno what to tell you,” taehyung sighs, patting his back.
jimin still looks very pleased with himself. jungkook kicks his shin and watches his smile turn into something more amused, more fond. he ducks his head, twists his fingers in his lap. he can still feel jimin’s eyes on him, amused.
where are they right now. this can’t be friends, this can’t be more, either. they’re somewhere. jungkook has no idea.
the rest of the night passes quick, it’s mostly playing tag with the bartender and then more dancing, and when they pile into the uber tired and drunk, jimin presses himself into jungkook’s side and falls asleep mouth pressed to his shoulder.
jungkook has no idea when he got used to it. when the arm across his middle and lips dragging against his skin with every bump they hit, got normal, but it is and he just makes sure jimin’s head doesn’t slip from his shoulder as he sleeps.
they get to taehyung’s place first, and as he gets out he shoots jungkook a look so knowing, eyes lingering on jimin attached to his side and then on his, that jungkook wonders if he knows everything somehow.
then the door closes and jungkook is given the terrible job of waking jimin up, when the uber reaches their apartment.
“hyung,” he murmurs, shooting the uber driver an apologetic look. he jostles jimin’s shoulder, a little. “hyung, we’re here. have to get up, now.”
“mm,” jimin complains, digging his face further into jungkook’s neck. jungkook’s heart leaps into his throat. not the time. he jostles jimin again.
“c’mon, hyung,” he says, reaches down and unwraps jimin’s hand from his waist, pushes him away until he’s sitting straight, and watches his eyes blink open blearily. he’s frowning, squinting in the light.
“mm?” he frowns, eyes barely open, turning to jungkook. jungkook can do nothing but smile and hope it doesn’t give everything away. take his hand, nod toward the door.
“have to go,” he murmurs again.
“oh,” jimin mumbles, squeezing his hand absently and letting jungkook push the car door open, lead him out and upstairs. clings to him, still, as jungkook unlocks the door with one hand and then leads them both into the kitchen to drink water.
jungkook is still buzzed, shuffling around the kitchen grabbing glasses from the cabinets. he’s too tired to startle, when jimin comes up behind him and lazily wraps arms around his waist, presses himself chest to back with jungkook and smushes his cheek into his shoulder. sighs, soft.
jungkook drags him around the kitchen to pour them both glasses of water, and then drains his own before he gently unlinks them, turns around in jimin’s arms and holds out the water to him.
“hm,” jimin hums, frowning at the water. “m’what?”
“drink,” jungkook insists, and watches jimin very slowly drain the glass, disgruntled. sets the glass down with a thunk and then presses a kiss to jungkook’s neck, another, another. nothing really heated, just kisses. jungkook laughs, at the lips wet and cold with water, dragging along his skin.
“bed,” he tells him, “we should both go to sleep, hyung, not now—”
“ugh,” jimin groans, but pulls away and then sways in place, eyes sliding closed. “one m’nute. gimme one minute, hold me one minute.”
jungkook chuckles softly, but does. wraps an arm solid around his waist, cups the back of his head, and pulls them chest to chest. holds him there, feels the rise and fall of jimin’s breathing in time with his own. this doesn’t feel like friends either, even though it’s a hug.
jimin hums contentedly, noses into jungkook’s neck.
“touch me more, ggukie,” he murmurs. “look like you’re afraid to, half the time. jus’ touch me whenever. always want you to.”
“okay,” jungkook whispers. he hopes jimin can’t feel the speed of his heart. “okay, hyung.”
“‘kay,” jimin mumbles. “take me to bed, please. hold my hand.”
“okay,” jungkook laughs, reaches down and laces their fingers together, leads him allllll the way across the apartment to his bedroom twenty feet away, nudges him inside. jimin lingers, leaning on the door with his eyes still half-closed, holding back a yawn.
“go to sleep,” jungkook insists. he knows he probably sounds too soft, too caring, but there isn’t much he can do about it.
“mm,” jimin frowns, and then steps closer. brings his hands up, slides them into jungkook’s hair, pulls him close. eyes unfocused, dark. “kiss me first.”
jungkook swallows hard. leans down, kisses him. gentle press of his lips to jimin’s, too sweet and too tender and too everything.
jimin hums, soft and content, presses back just as sweet. pulls away, takes a trembling breath, kisses him again.
precious, gentle. barely the brush of lips.
jungkook lets him, kisses back steady and pulls away shaking, and catches jimin’s eyes blown wide before he yawns right in jungkook’s face and pats his cheek.
“sleep well, ggukie,” he murmurs, and then steps away and disappears into the dark of his room.
jungkook stands outside his door for a while, cheeks warm and lips tingling, forehead knocked into the wood trying to wipe the kiss from his mind.