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Jimin notices Yoongi on the first day of school, but quickly shoves the idea of the man somewhere in the back of his mind, only to draw to him when he’s especially lonely.
It’s only his second year teaching his in his own classroom, but the long hours really leave him with very little time for himself — he wakes up early, works all day with a bunch of small children who tire him out like no other, and by the time he gets home he manages to eat and go over curriculum before passing out far too early for a usual twenty three year old.
He’d really been romanticizing his twenties, not knowing that he was going to have to work fifty hour weeks just to pay his bills.
That’s not to say he doesn’t love his job — running his own classroom is wonderful, and he feels so touched to be able to make such genuine bonds with the little kids in his class. He’s just tired and alone a lot because of it.
Yoongi is a comfort in his mind when he lets it wander. He wears sharp clothes whenever he drops little Jeongguk off in the classroom and is always so tender with his son. He doesn’t wear a ring on his finger, but Jimin still tries to pry a bit from the five year old, always asking him who each person is in the pictures he draws — it’s always him, Yoongi, and a little brown dog.
He can’t just outright ask a child if his father is single, and it doesn’t matter if Yoongi is. It would be horribly unprofessional, the man might not be interested in men at all, and then he’d be left to teach his son every day, awkwardly making small talk at drop off and pick up after likely making a fool out of himself.
So, Yoongi is a guilty pleasure for him; in his shiny shoes click clacking down the hallway, always alerting Jimin to his presence before he’s even stepped foot inside his classroom. The broad shoulders that taper off into an obviously muscled chest and slim waist — all while he does things like ruffle his son’s hair and tell him he loves him before leaving.
He’s distractingly exactly Jimin’s type, and he hadn’t even known being a good father was part of his type until Min Yoongi.
So when parent teacher conferences roll around, Jimin is anxiously awaiting Jeongguk’s.
There will be no distractions at all — children don’t come along out of preservation of their little minds; it's not exactly great for the young confidence to hear where you fall in the class, so he won’t even have Jeongguk as a buffer. And Jeongguk is truly one of his favorites, even if he isn’t supposed to have any.
It doesn’t help that Yoongi had chosen the very last time slot available, so Jimin won’t even have the excuse of rushing along to greet the next parent.
No distractions.
His classroom is dark now, the winter months making the sun set far earlier, and Jimin sits behind his desk as he waits for Yoongi to join him, clicking a pen over and over again as his nerves pile higher — it’s stupid, really, Yoongi is just a man. Just a father coming to check in on his five year old’s progress. Just—
A knock sounds at the door before it pulls open, revealing Min Yoongi dressed much more casually than Jimin has ever seen, and it takes him several long moments of looking to realize he’s fucking staring.
Yoongi has a leather jacket stretched tight around his arms and shoulders, a black turtleneck snug against his chest and torso, and a baseball cap hiding his usually neatly combed hair. He looks mouthwatering to the point that Jimin does swallow just to be sure he isn’t drooling — but then, his legs come into view and those are now covered by skinny jeans, big, chunky boots on his feet—
“Hi,” Yoongi smiles, pulling his jacket off as he approaches the desk. He tosses it over the back of the little chair Jimin had pulled out for parents. He couldn’t find any adult sized chairs, the best he could do is steal one from one of the third grade classrooms.
“Sorry for the chair,” Jimin ducks, looking at Jeongguk’s file spread over his desk to avoid looking at Yoongi for too long again, “kindergarten got the last pick for people sized chairs.”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi sits — he sits, in the only way he really can in a chair so small, which is to spread his legs obscenely wide, which should be silly but really only highlights how long Yoongi’s legs are and how badly Jimin would like to place himself between those spread thighs. “How have you been, Mr. Park?”
And Jimin knows he’s blushing, because he has Yoongi’s undivided attention.
“Very busy, but good, Sir,” he smiles, clicking his pen closed so he can use it to point at the open file and hopefully get the meeting started so it can just end.
He talks about how Jeongguk has improved vastly from the start of the year in reading, and Yoongi gets that look on his face that is so obviously proud dad, that Jimin feels a little sick with want.
At the end of the meeting, when he’s went over everything he wanted to bring up academically, Jimin finally lets himself relax a bit.
“So he’s doing well?” Yoongi asks, eyes scanning over the file.
“Yes,” Jimin nods, proud of himself for getting through everything. “I do see that he struggles to make friends with his peers, though, Sir. I try to encourage him to take more part in activities, but he seems rather attached to me— which, I don’t mind at all because he’s such a little ray of sunshine, but his fondness for me may be making him not really want to make friends.”
Yoongi hums, sitting back in his little chair. His hands have nowhere to go but for his lap, big and veiny and eye-catching right in front of his crotch. Jimin says a mental prayer, and he doesn’t even go to church.
“He talks about you so much,” Yoongi says, and Jimin feels a warmth in his chest — he tries to treat them all the same, but Jeonggukie is so sweet he can’t really help himself. “He tells me about his days and I have noticed they’re all stories about you.”
Jimin nods, feeling a little guilty, “I think going into the next quarter, my main focus with him will be helping him socialize a bit more with other kids. I don’t mean to take up his attention—”
“I can’t blame him, really,” Yoongi shrugs, so casual about it. “You’re clearly very good at your job; everything in here is always so put together and the things Jeongguk comes home with— the Christmas ornament you had them make? I cried when he showed me it. You put so much into your work. It’s very admirable, Mr. Park.”
Ego inflated and feeling a bit bashful at the onslaught of compliments, Jimin opens his mouth to thank Yoongi politely, feeling recognized for his hard work where others don’t usually see what he puts into it.
He doesn’t get around to it, though, because Yoongi adds on, “it’s a wonder you manage to make it into work every day looking so put together yourself. You somehow can do it all, while looking the way you do every day.”
Fully flushing all the way down his neck now, Jimin swallows nervously — he could just be being sweet, still. It could just be a passing compliment that means nothing.
Still, “and how do I look every day?”
A smirk pulls at the corner of Yoongi’s lips, and Jimin could die.
“Tempting,” he murmurs, eyes twinkling in the shitty classroom lights, “I hope I’ve not overstepped—”
“No,” Jimin bites into his bottom lip, fighting a smile, “no, you’ve, um. You didn’t overstep, Sir.”
“No?” Yoongi asks, eyebrow cocking as he leans forward to press his elbows on his knees, “then maybe I’ve not said enough.”
Nervous and shy, Jimin parts his lips, unsure what he’s supposed to say — he hasn’t flirted with a boy since college years ago, and those had been twenty year old boys, not thirty year old grown men who star in every single dirty dream Jimin’s had in the last four months.
“Maybe you haven’t,” he finally says, and Yoongi looks so pleased; like Jimin’s said exactly what he wanted him to.
“Mr. Park,” Yoongi sighs, tongue peaking out to lick his lips as his eyes greedily trace over Jimin’s face in a way that has him feeling entirely looked at in a way he hasn’t felt in years. “I’m not sure the rules in place at this school, and I surely don’t want to get you into any trouble—”
“It’s okay,” Jimin could scream with embarrassment at the look Yoongi gives him— he couldn’t even let him finish speaking, too excited, edging the dangerous line of arousal.
“Well that’s not something I anticipated. You seem like quite the goodie goodie who strays away from trouble, no?”
Jimin could tell him that he is, that he was valedictorian in high school and graduated college with a perfect GPA and he waited until he was of age to start drinking at parties— but he doesn’t think any of that matters to Yoongi right now.
“Some things are worth getting in trouble for, Sir,” he cocks his head to the side, purposefully coy, purposefully sweet. “Don’t you think?”
He watches with his own eyes the way Yoongi’s jaw clenches, notice right away how much darker his eyes are than when he first entered and they spoke about his son — Jimin thinks he might be doing something right.
“Are you doing that on purpose?” Yoongi asks, eyeing Jimin’s mouth in an obvious way.
“Doing what?” He asks.
“Flirting with me,” Yoongi blinks a few times before his eyes flick back up to meet Jimin’s.
It’s hard to not laugh at the absurdity of it all, “yeah, I’m doing it on purpose. Do you think all the dads come into their conference and start calling me tempting?”
“Selfishly, I hope not, but I wouldn't be shocked,” Yoongi admits, dropping his hands down onto his knees, “do you flirt with them, too?”
“You are the only person to tease me like this in years,” Jimin admits, cheeks still so hot, “is that what you want to hear?”
“Among other things,” Yoongi shrugs, “yes.”
“What other things?” Jimin asks, anticipation building inside him.
“I’d love to hear something like…” Yoongi trails off, then lists, tapping his pointer finger, “‘yes, I’d love to have dinner with you, Yoongi,’ and then,” he taps his middle finger, “‘I don’t normally kiss on the first date, but you look so handsome,’ and then third, I’d really, really like to hear you panting underneath me, telling me how good I make you feel.”
The flush Jimin had felt before is nothing to what he feels now — it’s like his entire chest heats up like a furnace, his heart burning from the inside, his stupid dick hard from a simple conversation with a handsome man being nice to him.
But it’s been so long…
“Have I overstepped yet?” Yoongi asks, dark eyes watching Jimin closely.
“Do all those things have to go in the order you listed them in?” Jimin asks, and watches understanding reach Yoongi’s eyes.
“Of course not,” he says, and Jimin feels the energy that had been building throughout their entire meeting snap, then.
“I vote for the third one, and depending on how it goes we can loop back around to number one.”
It feels nice to leave Yoongi looking so shocked for once this evening.
“When are you off?” He asks after taking a moment to process what Jimin has said, but his cheeks look a bit pink and that validates Jimin smidge.
“You were my last conference today,” Jimin says, leaning forward so he can press his elbows to his desk, leaning over to get a good look at Yoongi. “Are you free now?”
And then Yoongi is standing up from the stupid child sized chair and leaning over Jimin’s desk. A wide palm pressed to Jimin’s jaw, fingers just behind his ear, and then Yoongi is pulling him swiftly into a kiss from the other side of the desk.
“I would cancel any plans conceivable for a chance with you, Mr. Park,” he grins against Jimin’s lips, and it makes him realize that this is actually happening — that Min Yoongi is holding his face and kissing him with those distractingly pretty lips, so soft and sweet against his own.
His mouth parts under very little pressure from Yoongi’s tongue, and then Jimin’s grabbing onto Yoongi’s wrist to hold him in place against his mouth, drowning in the feeling of the older man’s tongue pressing against his own and lapping at the roof of his mouth.
“You’re not allowed to call me Mr. Park while you kiss me,” Jimin whispers, allowing Yoongi to pull back — he’s not sure what he expects, but Yoongi walking around the desk and hauling him up to his feet was not it. He’d assumed they could take this to his apartment, where Jimin isn’t at his place of work, but the fantasy of it all plays out in Jimin’s head as Yoongi kisses him again and there’s no denying how much he’d like to take advantage of the mostly empty school.
There’s probably only janitors here by now, anyways.
“What do I call you when I kiss you?” Yoongi asks, now using both hands to hold Jimin by the jaw, and he’s never been kissed so whole-heartedly in his life, never felt held in this way before now, and he’s a little obsessed with how it makes me feel. “Gorgeous? Is that one okay?”
“Yeah,” Jimin tips his head back, letting it hit against the cupboards behind them. Yoongi’s mouth trails down slowly, kissing at the corner of his lips, dragging lower to his throat, mouth parting to press his tongue there. Jimin’s eyes roll back when teeth nip lightly at his skin, his own hands holding onto the front of Yoongi’s shirt to keep him close, “yeah, yeah, that’s better.”
“I won’t forbid you from calling me Sir while you kiss me, but I’m not sure if this is where we should test that,” Yoongi has the audacity to joke in a time like this, where Jimin is at fucking work and throbbing in his pants, letting one of his kid’s dads’ mouth at his neck and kiss him dizzy.
“I would have predicted you’d be that way,” Jimin sighs, tightening his hold on Yoongi’s shirt when his mouth is captured in another kiss, this time mingled panting breath and a bit of teeth clanking, “good call not here, though.”
Yoongi chuckles, one of his hands upsettingly leaving Jimin’s face in order to trail down his body — that big hand cups him through his pants and squeezes, leaving Jimin biting a moan into Yoongi’s shoulder to quiet himself.
“Should we be doing this here?” He whispers, but it feels purposeful — Jimin shudders, rocking his hips into Yoongi’s hand. “Should you be letting me do this to you here?”
“Oh, god,” Jimin feels the shame flushing his cheeks with a quickness, eyes closing as he grinds dumbly against Yoongi’s hand.
“I could stop,” he offers, but they both know it isn’t a genuine thing — they both want it too much. “I mean, or I could bend you over your desk and eat your ass, gorgeous. It’s up to you.”
Being newly touched by a man he’s had a crush on for so long, after being without any form of touch that wasn’t his own for several years, this has Jimin gripping Yoongi’s wrist and holding it still for fear of coming in his pants.
Yoongi notices; of course he does.
“Oh,” he smirks, and Jimin hates how the almost mean look turns him on more. “Oh, baby, that’s so cute.”
“Don’t,” Jimin whines, tipping his chin up to catch a kiss on Yoongi’s jaw, “s’been a while for me.”
“Then I’m awfully lucky, aren’t I? That you’d pick me of all the people who want you,” Yoongi turns his head, pressing another kiss to Jimin's lips, “am I moving too fast for you?”
“No,” Jimin shakes his head, but thinks a moment longer, “maybe, maybe a little, but—”
“But you’re okay with this?” He asks, fingers tightening around Jimin’s obvious hard on.
“Yeah,” Jimin nods, embarrassed and resting his forehead on Yoongi’s shoulder to avoid eye contact and also be able to watch the man’s hand against his crotch.
“Okay, so maybe after that date, then,” Yoongi offers, nudging his nose against Jimin’s temple, “we’ll just get this out of our systems then, yeah? Then I’ll be such a gentleman to you, gorgeous.”
He’s being serious, and for that Jimin could very happily drop down and suck his dick right here and now.
“Good idea,” Jimin nods, pressing his own hand against the front of Yoongi’s jeans — the bulge there is incredibly enticing, and doesn’t help how much he’d like to blow Yoongi. “We’ll be good after, right?”
“Right, baby,” he presses Jimin harder up against the floor to ceiling cupboards, practically covering his entire front as his hand moves to unbutton his jeans — Jimin copies him, though he knows his cheeks are flaming because this is probably still too fast, but he thinks if they stopped now he would start crying.
The groan Yoongi lets out when Jimin touches him is almost as loud as the desperate sound Jimin makes at the feel of his cock in his hand — god, it’s been too long.
Yoongi stops and watches Jimin’s hand curl around him for a moment, panting and shuddering as he looks before seeming to realize he was in the process of doing the same thing to Jimin. With haste, he pulls Jimin’s jeans down just enough to be able to press their dicks together, his much larger hand curling around them both at the same time as best he can.
It isn’t that it feels the best — Yoongi’s hand alone would be better, and Jimin knows it by just looking at him, but it’s the fact that Yoongi’s just as hard as he is, that he’s getting them off like this, their cocks rubbing and smearing precome, and he’s barely even asked Jimin on a date yet.
Maybe he’s a bit easy right now, but with his head thrown back and his teeth biting into the meat of his own hand to stifle his cries, he tries not to come for about three minutes before he can help himself, embarrassment be damned. It hits him like a big wave, clutching at Yoongi and biting into his hand as he spurts all over Yoongi’s fist, hips rocking as bliss overtakes everything.
Yoongi groans just watching him, though he’s still hard, and Jimin can’t be blamed because his brain is mush from Yoongi getting him off and then using his come to jerk himself off. So Jimin fixes his pants and then drops down to his knees, where Yoongi groans again, tangling his free hand in Jimin’s hair as he gets closer — he gets his lips around the wet head, tasting himself and Yoongi mixed together.
His tongue teases only a bit, and then Yoongi is gasping, hand moving quick on his cock still, and he barely blurts out Jimin’s name before his mouth is flooding with come and he’s forced to swallow or choke.
“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Yoongi pants while still spilling into his mouth, petting Jimin’s hair, “I tried to warn you but—”
“It’s okay,” Jimin looks up at him, come smeared on his bottom lip, “I wanted you to come in my mouth, Yoongi.”
“Jesus Christ,” his eyebrows pinch like that pains him before his head tips back and Jimin is left giggling and licking his lips.
After fixing themselves as best they can and redressing, Yoongi kicks the toe of his boot at Jimin’s shoe gently, standing close while he gets all of his things to leave for the night.
“I’m not saying this because I’m trying to just fuck you,” he says, and Jimin cocks his head in question, feeling in his bag for his keys. “But, maybe, if you are still free, we could go grab some dinner tonight. Jeongguk has a sitter, so I might as well use it to take you out, even if it sounds sleazy after what we just did.”
“You wanna go on a date tonight?” Jimin asks, leading Yoongi out of his class and into the hallway, “and for reasons other than sex?”
“I do like you, you know,” Yoongi shoves his shoulder lightly, nodding at a janitor as they pass — Jimin’s cheeks flush immediately, because thinking people were there is different from knowing so. “This doesn’t even have to count as the first date.”
And Jimin can’t pretend enough to tease Yoongi at all, “alright, Min Yoongi. But you’re not getting in my pants again for at least three dates. Five if I can control myself.”
“Oh, don’t make it a challenge,” Yoongi shakes his head, brushing the back of his fingers against Jimin’s, “it’ll just be more fun for me to try if I know that.”
“Mark my words, Min Yoongi,” he says teasingly, stood under one of the playground lights. “You will be a gentleman.”
The glint in Yoongi’s eyes tells Jimin this will be fun for the both of them.