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Jungkook never takes off his Letterman jacket. Particularly messy lunches have him eating carefully, napkin curled inside his collar and eighty degree weather finds him sweating beneath it, downing twice the water.
Jimin teases him for it, but never makes him take it off and instead, under dim lights, lets Jungkook feel it rub against his bare back, has him keep it unbuttoned so his cold nipples tease to hardness against a plastic folding table.
“You're such a dumb jock,” Jimin smirks, gripping hard against Jungkook’s hips and pushing forward to make the table rock, leftover red solo cups from the party falling against the locker room floor.
“You like it,” Jungkook quips over his shoulder. “How much better I am than you at every conceivable thing? Is that why you lost? Did you let me strike you out, Park Jimin? I bet your team is so mad.”
“Shut up .”
It was an away game for them both, a stadium painted with foreign colors and Jimin’s fierce tigers had lost because their ringer struck out out to their opposing team’s ace. The Golden Boy, they called him.
Jimin went toe to toe with Jungkook and lost. When they'd shaken hands for sportsmanship Jungkook had even avoided Jimin’s hand, smirking recklessly, pushing him with his eyes and egging Jimin to push back .
Their rivalry was known across town, their own teams thought they hated each other, feared they'd come to blows and went to great lengths to keep the two apart.
But Jimin always found Jungkook and Jungkook always found Jimin. After the stadium lights went out and the locker room parties were over. After the teams had showered and loaded up to go home, Jimin found Jungkook like a hurricane and spun adrenaline back into his biceps, stung electricity into his hips.
“Stop staring at my jacket, Jiminnie. I know you're envious, but you have to play well to get one—”
Jimin growls, flipping Jungkook onto his back and pressing him into a biting kiss, relishing in Jungkook’s sigh of relief, the way he melts against his chest.
“You don't have to piss me off to get me to kiss you, brat,” Jimin sneers. “Just tell me you missed me. Tell me you play extra hard so I'll be proud.”
“You're full of shit.”
“Am I? I watched your game against Southside Prep, you didn't play nearly as hard.”
“What? ” Jungkook’s facade breaks a split second and Jimin watches his eyes get big and round, watches his cheeks tint pink at the thought that Jimin drove the half-hour to Southside Preparatory School to watch him, hiding underneath the bleachers. Though, in a second he's composing himself again—as much as he can with Jimin’s hips pressing insistently against his ass.
“I fucking knew it,” Jimin’s hands rub heat into Jungkook’s abs, sliding up to tease his nipples and make his body shake. “My sweet little Cupcake,” Jimin cooes obnoxiously, making kissy noises next to Jungkook’s ear until the younger surges upward and smashes their lips together, cheeks burning so warm Jimin can feel it.
“Shut the fuck up, Park Jimin. Shut your stupid mouth.”
Jimin isn't much better, honestly, soft on Jungkook so completely he'd let his entire team down to allow Jungkook to jump for joy with his own. They’d hoisted him up, clapped big hands on the back of that stupid letterman jacket and Jungkook had beamed. Jimin still doesn't regret it.
Now, Jungkook tastes like bubblegum and cherry soda from his team's’ impromptu victory party and Jimin eagerly sucks the sticky film from his bottom lip.
“Fuck, your body,” Jimin moans, pinching each of Jungkook’s nipples lightly in his own rapidly warming fingertips. Jungkook whimpers and arches up, answering by reaching back and gripping two separate handfuls of Jimin's ample backside, pressing him closer.
“You're one to talk,” Jungkook purrs, unbuckling Jimin’s belt and sliding his hands beneath the waist of those tight uniform pants, coaxing them off his hips. “Half of the girls in the stands just come to watch the way your ass looks in these fucking pants,” Jungkook moans, feeling a shudder wracking through him as Jimin’s skin beneath his hands made him want. He squirms a little, pulling back a hand to tug Jimin down, his voice more breath than anything. “C’mon hyung, get me naked or I’m fucking you this time.”
“Patience is a virtue, Kookie-ah,” Jimin chuckles, pressing the heel of his hand to Jungkook’s crotch and grinding down softly, his cock hard even through the layers of his pants and underwear. Jungkook keens , and Jimin presses wet kisses up and down his jawline, biting down on his neck and shushing him indulgently. “Are you jealous of those girls? How they see me all the time, get to kiss my cheek and run their hands along my arms?”
“No,” Jungkook breathes without missing a beat, reaching with his hands to tug Jimin’s shirt free and relishing in the view of his beautiful skin: tan, tight and warm beneath his fingertips. “Because I know I’m the only one who gets to feel how hot your cock is, gets to fuck that tight ass .” Jungkook’s smirk is vicious, but the noise he makes when Jimin finally lets him shove his trousers all the way down is almost kittenish in its submission, long and needy. Jimin takes his own cock in his hand and strokes it slowly once, coaxing pre-cum from the tip and making Jungkook’s mouth water.
“You sure about that, Golden boy?”
Jungkook’s eyes flash possessively, but Jimin presses their lips together in a slow, sensual kiss before he has time to react, grinning into it and fiddling with Jungkook’s belt, finally tugging his pants down his legs. He tosses them to join the boy’s shirt, something he’d disposed of quickly, just to allow Jungkook to put his letterman back on. “Easy, Cupcake. You’re always so ready to fight,” he chuckles, licking at his bottom lip.
“It’s ‘cause I’m horny, hyung. Fuck me,” Jungkook cooes and Jimin presses a hand to Jungkook’s chest to separate them, to push him flat against the plastic table.
“Suck,” comes Jimin’s rough order as he nudges his index and middle fingers against Jungkook’s lips. Jungkook opens obediently, sucking them in and moaning, making such a show of it that Jimin’s hips kick forward involuntarily, grinding skin against skin.
Jungkook rewards him with the sweetest little sound, high in the back of his throat, and Jimin pushes his fingers deeper, pistoning them in and out like a cock against Jungkook’s tongue until they drip, slick and messy when he pulls them out.
Jungkook’s eyes are hooded before Jimin positions his fingers, his chest heaving before he ever pushes inside him and Jimin feels his entire body spark to life as he watches him, pliant and willing and so fucking his. Jimin can’t help but growl. “Fuck, you’re such a slut. Such a needy little brat, Cupcake.” Jimin’s fingers push in to the third knuckle in one swift movement and he watches Jungkook’s knitted brow ease in relief instantaneously. He works them in quickly, stretching him open and Jungkook writhes, pressing his hips down eagerly, even though the initial pain. “Mmh, easy now.”
“Oh, God,” Jungkook moans, his thighs trembling as he holds them up and open, ass on the edge of the table, keeping himself as close to Jimin’s hips as possible. Jungkook always loves Jimin’s fingers, loves how skilled they are when they rub inside him and he works his hips down, meeting the thrusts with desperate movements.
Jimin pushes his legs back against his chest so he can watch, so he could see Jungkook’s ass working in tight circles, eagerly taking everything he gives. They aren't dating, but sometimes Jimin wishes they could so he could have him anywhere, so he could take Jungkook on a proper date and kiss his nose, fuck him raw in his twin bed underneath the hanging lights Jungkook picked out, but has yet to see.
But neither of them could make it possible, so they have blow jobs beneath the bleachers, fog up the windows of Jimin’s car in Jungkook’s school parking lot, and this: Jungkook lying obediently on his back, begging for Jimin to touch him and if Jimin doesn't feel like a fucking king—like he owns the fucking world making The Golden Boy scream for him, he doesn't know what’ll do it.
“Th—That’s so— good —” Jungkook whines into his bicep, hands pressing over his head to clutch the end of the table Jimin’s fingers were fucking him into.
“Yeah?” Jimin teases breathlessly, biting his lip and raising both his eyebrows as he pushes forward, adds a third finger without warning to match his first two. He watches as Jungkook’s bicep flexes, his grip tightening on the edge of the table as Jimin stretches him and his cock gave an aroused twitch, already dripping precum down the shaft. “Is it enough, Cupcake?” he asks unnecessarily and Jungkook gives a frustrated whine. “Gonna cum like this?”
He's done it before, cum untouched with nothing but Jimin’s fingers for stimulation and Jimin feels almost too eager to make him do it again; to push Jungkook to the edge of his orgasm, again and again, until he wails, whispering filth into his ear.
“Y-You know exactly what the fuck I need, stop fucking around. Someone cou—”
Jimin claps his hand against the underside of Jungkook’s thigh so hard the younger jumps, startled, the red imprint of Jimin’s hand standing out against his skin. The folding table groans and Jimin decides absently that if it gives out he'll just fuck Jungkook to incoherence on the floor.
“Do I, baby?” Jimin asks, soothing the red mark before leaving one to match on the opposite side, making Jungkook cry out. “Someone could what? Come in? See you fucking your ass on three fingers like a little desperate whore?” Jungkook clenches up, gets tighter around the digits and Jimin crooks them, relishing in the sharp intake of breath Jungkook gives him. “Oh, but you'd like that…”
“Jimin please—” Jungkook whines pitifully, reaching down his body with intent to touch his cock, before Jimim stops him, threads their fingers briefly to guide his arm back above his head.
“No,” he says simply and Jungkook squirms in agony until Jimin kisses him, trying to sooth with his lips and teeth and tongue. “Hyung will take care of you, Cupcake. Doesn't he always? Don't I always make you feel so good, baby?”
Jungkook’s blush is powerful and Jimin can tell he's losing himself. He always does when Jimin has him like this. Jungkook’s chest is heaving and he’s covered in a light sheen of sweat as Jimin gazes down at him, the fabric of his letterman teasing softly against his sensitive skin.
“Yeah…”
“Yeah, what?” Jimin slows his fingers until they’re immobile inside of Jungkook and he can feel his lover’s body working, trying to get more. Jungkook hesitates and the silence stretches, Jimin waiting with his fingers still inside his lover’s body. Jimin clicks his tongue dangerously and Jungkook breaks. He always does.
“H-Hyung—” In moments, Jungkook is a mess, gasping as he clenches around Jimin’s fingers, his sweat sticking strands of his hair to the side of his pretty face. “Hyung always..t-takes care of me…”
“ Mmh,” Jimin praises, running a hand up Jungkook’s thigh to sooth him. Just saying the words seems to make Jungkook settle and Jimin’s free hand grasps his own cock, slicks it with its own pre-cum and guides it into position.
“Always makes me feel s-so...go— Ooh, Fuck! Hyung...yes, please,” Jimin’s halfway inside, his hands gripping hard on Jungkook’s hips to keep him still and grounded, to keep him from squirming off as he sometimes does when he gets too excited. “More, More, More,” Jungkook murmurs, arching his back and groaning in relief as Jimin continues pushing forward, fills him up completely.
When Jimin bottoms out he only gives a moment before he’s thrusting, pressing over Jungkook and trapping his cock between them, biting at Jungkook’s neck to leave dark marks he’ll have to cover with cheap concealer. The idea that he’ll linger, that he’ll be pressed to Jungkook’s skin long after he leaves makes Jimin growl, makes him hungry .
“God, look at you, Cupcake. Such a good little whore,” He moans against Jungkook’s ear, reaching up and grabbing a rough handful of his hair, jerking his head on an angle that exposes more of his neck. Jungkook hisses, the tug against his scalp is painful, but he can’t bring himself to complain with Jimin rutting into him, fucking him so hard into the table it begins to scoot back into the opposite wall.
Jungkook rakes his nails down Jimin’s back, wrapping both his legs over his hips and rolling his body, taking everything he gives with long whimpers, pleasured groans of his name.
“F-Fuck! Y-Yes, Oh God, yes,” Jungkook’s face is hot and red and he’s embarrassed, listening to his own desperate voice, but he’s tried hiding before—tried to shield himself from Jimin’s eyes and it always ends up in punishment, in Jimin dragging it out. “Deeper, please— Fuck me! ”
“Someone’s going to hear you, Cupcake. Someone will come to see if you don’t keep that pretty voice down,” Jimin smirks into his neck, licking a hot stripe from shoulder to ear that makes Jungkook’s belly pull tight. “God you look so good, sound so good, smell so good. You smell like sweat, you smell like the shampoo I bought you, you smell like sex. Shit, I could fuck you all day.”
“H-Hyung please—” Jungkook keens, always weak for Jimin’s filthy mouth, for the way his tongue slides against the shell of his ear as he purrs to him. “I-I can’t—I can’t take it. T-Too much..I-I want to cum—”
“Y-Yes you can, baby. You take it so well, look,” Jimin pulls back until he’s looking down at Jungkook, pupils blown, lips spit-slick and red. He grips roughly onto his hips, jerks him down on each thrust forward and Jungkook shrieks , eyes tipping back in pleasure. Jimin laughs, brings a hand down to rub gently at the tender place where his cock sinks repeatedly into Jungkook’s body. “Fuck, you take my cock so well. You were made for it baby.”
“Jimin—!” Jungkook cries out, begging now for Jimin to stop talking, to ease up, for something to help him, because he’d lost himself somewhere, lost his self control. He’d lost it a long time ago in between between the caramel kiss of Jimin’s lips, the sweet call of his smile.
“Shhh,” Jimin grins, growling and cooing all at once before shoving two of his fingers into Jungkook’s mouth to keep him quiet. Jungkook suckles messily, his tongue working along the underside as he tries to muffle his own moans. “Shut up. I bet you wouldn’t even want to stop if we got caught. I bet you’d look over to our intruder and tell them how Jimin-hyung fucks you so good , wouldn’t you? Wouldn’t you. ”
Jungkook nods rapidly, gazing up into Jimin’s piercing gaze and moaning, bobbing his head as best as he can against Jimin’s fingers, so his hyung will reward him.
God, does he. Jimin pulls his hand away and wraps wet fingers around Jungkook’s cock, stroking rough and fast and Jungkook howls , spiraling towards his orgasm. Jimin’s no better: his entire body shuddering as he works his hips forward, intoxicated by Jungkook’s hips, his voice, his body.
“So good, Cupcake—So perfect Jungkookie. Love your ass, love your body, love—”
“Hyung—”
“Cum for me. Tell me you're mine.”
“I-I’m yours— Oh, God ,” and Jungkook cums hard over Jimin’s hand and against his chest, arching up and holding there as Jimin’s cock ruts mercilessly through the sudden incredible tightness. Jimin hips snap roughly, making Jungkook scream so loud he’s practically sobbing until Jimin cums inside him, filling him up and moving until he’s half soft, jerking slowly to a stop.
“Good, hyung?” Jungkook asks in a voice so rough with exertion it’s almost incoherent.
“So good, baby boy. You’re always so good,” Jimin breathes, running a hand down Jungkook’s chest, leaning to kiss the corner of his mouth. Jungkook preens under the attention, always does and Jimin chuckles, trying to best to calm his breathing.
It takes a while, a long moment for the both of them to be able to breathe again and re-enter their surroundings: the lockers, the empty pizza boxes littered around the floor, used solo cups and half-empty cans of Sprite.
Jungkook giggles first and Jimin always follows. They giggle until it turns to loud laughter and they kiss each other to keep quiet, snorting themselves to silence.
“Shower?” Jimin asks, looking over his shoulder to eye the doorless entryway to a room covered entirely in mint-green tile.
“M’tired,” Jungkook drawls, relaxing back against the table and stretching upward, keeping his legs curled around Jimin’s waist tight, so he could neither move nor leave. “Don’t wanna.”
Jimin rolls his eyes and smiles, thrusting his hips forward weakly once and making Jungkook shudder violently. “D-Don’t do that.”
“Can you walk, baby?”
Jungkook hesitates, bites his lip, and Jimin takes pity on his younger lover: pretends he doesn’t see his furious blush and instead simply lifts him. Jungkook squawks, clinging to Jimin’s shoulders and putting up all types of ineffectual protests in a halfhearted attempt to get down.
Jimin ignores him easily, pressing a chaste kiss to his ear as he carries Jungkook to the shower room, still in his Letterman jacket.
“You’ll have to take that stupid thing off to shower, you know,” Jimin grouses halfheartedly.
Jungkook laughs.