Chapter Text
How naïve had he been?
The signs were everywhere, he'd just been too inexperienced to notice.
Jimin was lying on the couch late the next evening, unable to stop the constant play by plays running through his head, when he noticed something above him that he hadn't seen before.
There were four large hooks embedded in the living room ceiling.
He didn't realise what he was seeing at first, but he understood suddenly as he felt the shiver run down his body. They looked heavy duty, easily able to hold someone's weight.
Jimin had had sex before, he wasn't a virgin, but he felt like one as he slowly uncovered more and more hints at Yoongi's much more creative sex life in the following days.
And the more he uncovered, the more he wanted to know.
He knew he should respect Yoongi's privacy; he would probably get kicked out if he got caught, and he'd deserve it, but he couldn't help himself.
In quiet moments in the evenings when the living room was filled with shadows, or when he heard Yoongi's sleep-roughened voice in the morning, he couldn't help but think of him in another setting.
His friend and roommate barely moved the rest of the week, a machine that worked and worked and barely slept, but fuck, it was as if Jimin could sense that dominating presence beneath the stillness now. He couldn't get the sight of his thick cock out of his head.
He wanted it in his mouth instead.
That first morning after the... incident, he'd barely been able to make eye contact with Yoongi, not sure what might be written on his face. Yoongi didn't comment, likely thinking he was hungover, and just slid another pancake onto Jimin's plate as he mumbled his thanks.
He tried not to look at Yoongi’s hands as he spooned extra strawberries on top, but it was a struggle. Jimin must have looked terrible for him to start spoiling him like that, pancakes were one of his rare hangover recovery foods.
He was still only half way through his breakfast when Yoongi finished his plate, patting Jimin silently on the shoulder before he left him to the dishes.
Jimin touched his shoulder after he left, feeling the phantom warmth of Yoongi's hand, and wondered how he was supposed to move past the vivid imagery branded on his subconscious.
As a few days passed, it became clear that despite Jimin's fears, Yoongi was not telepathic and his thoughts weren't as obvious as he believed.
They cohabited seamlessly. Yoongi worked, Jimin went to his classes, and they saw each other briefly for dinner, or passed each other in the hall. Things were fine, Jimin never needed to mention what happened, and life could continue the way it had been before.
Then Saturday came around again.
Like every week, the plan was never mentioned, but like clockwork that evening, the door clicked open to Yoongi's home studio, and Jimin heard the water running as the bathroom door closed down the hall.
That was his cue to leave.
Taehyung would often pick him up, or he would have at least gathered his clothes for the club later that night ready to leave, but this time he felt his feet dragging.
He messaged Taehyung, asking if he was okay with a movie night instead, but just lay on his bed waiting for a reply as he listened to the soft hiss of the water and the subtle scent of Yoongi's citrus body wash began to permeate the house.
He'd noticed Yoongi getting progressively stressed throughout the week, wondering how he hadn't seen the pattern before. On Sunday he had been relaxed, even laughing at the show they'd watched together after dinner. Jimin had struggled to relax on the couch next to him, especially when Yoongi draped an arm over his shoulders like he often did. It was made much worse when a sex scene came up in the drama they were watching, and Jimin realised how mild it was compared to the scene Yoongi had acted out in the middle of the same room just the night before. Yoongi must have noticed how tense he was, and Jimin half expected the older man to tease him for it, but he didn’t comment on his red cheeks as they continued watching.
Jimin had been wondering why Yoongi felt the need to keep his preferences secret from him. They’d always been close, even if they’d spent the last few years in different cities before Jimin moved to Seoul. He was ashamed to realise that he must look like a virgin compared to Yoongi’s other friends. And after what Jimin had seen that night, maybe it wasn’t too far from the truth.
He was finally moving to leave when Yoongi came out of the bathroom, beads of water still clinging to his chest when Jimin stepped into the hall.
Jimin's eyes shot from the hand on the towel at Yoongi’s waist, straight to the floor and away.
"Sorry. Running late. See you!" he called suddenly, rushing out.
The last thing Jimin saw was Yoongi's puzzled expression as he fled the apartment.
Another week passed, and Jimin found himself growing as antsy as Yoongi as the weekend approached.
No one else would have taken the little things Yoongi did as an invitation, but Jimin found himself thinking of Yoongi’s next guest.
He wondered what they looked like, how Yoongi met them, if they really appreciated how lucky they were to spend time with his hyung.
He couldn’t bring himself to tell Taehyung what he’d done, and if his best friend was confused by Jimin’s sudden disappearance from his usual Saturday night routine, he kept it to himself.
That first weekend had been a mistake, but Jimin knew what he was doing this time. There was no denying that he was a terrible person, but he buried those thoughts beneath the many he had about Yoongi’s hands every day. About his voice, that commanding tone, his thick cock…
So Jimin found creative ways to break their apartment rules. For the first time in months of cohabitation, Jimin stayed in on a Saturday night.
That first weekend, he made a big show of leaving, hitching a bag over his shoulder and talking with his friend on a video call as he left, even stopping to wave to Yoongi at the door when he came out of his studio.
Sneaking back into the apartment undetected was surprisingly simple, and Jimin pretended it wasn’t due to Yoongi’s trust in him. He didn’t bolt the front door between 5pm and 1am, he just had faith that Jimin would keep his word.
Jimin stared at himself in the mirror when he returned to his room, beginning to regret his decision even as Yoongi’s regular pre-game shower concealed the faint click of his door. But the shower was turned off before he could finish his little moral debate.
His remorse only compounded when he realised just how long eight hours was, confined to one small room, without any food and with only the moonlight streaming through his blinds for company. He was thankful for his tiny ensuite bathroom, which he made sure to use only when necessary, though flushing would have been too loud.
He judged himself harshly that first night for more than his lack of foresight. Jimin made his own rule as he camped by the door. No touching. He was just sating his curiosity.
For a while, it was easy. He heard Yoongi moving around the apartment, some soft music in the background and then sounds that must have been him rearranging the furniture.
When that week’s guest arrived, it was clear it wasn’t just a quickie. Jimin heard the faint clink of glassware, muffled conversation and laughter. It felt more intimate than what he’d heard the first time, without all the build up.
But his no touching rule soon became a form of self-inflicted torture.
As the evening progressed, the flirty conversation outside Jimin’s room trailed off, and other sounds took over.
The woman’s moans didn’t affect Jimin much, but coupled with Yoongi’s low voiced commands, they had blood rushing straight between his legs.
Jimin felt like he developed super hearing as he listened, straining to pick out what was happening. After a time, he could picture the other person on their knees before him, those little wet choking sounds coming from lips spread wide around Yoongi’s cock as his balls slapped their chin. He didn’t know what Yoongi’s guest looked like, but his brain quickly substituted her face for one that was much more familiar.
Jimin licked his lips, letting his mouth fall open as the sounds of Yoongi’s blow job washed through him. He barely breathed, eyes closed and his head tilting back as his hands fisted his pants on either side of his erection.
Yes, he was a good boy. Yes, he would take it all. Please.
He didn’t touch his cock, but instead drove himself mad as Yoongi kept going, every slap of his hips sending heat through his body as the dominant teased and taunted his partner. Jimin shed a few frustrated tears as Yoongi drove his guest into overstimulation.
When their evening came to an end, Jimin could hear Yoongi helping the woman come back down, leading her into the shower to wash up before he walked her out. Yoongi came back, and moved the furniture again before his bedroom door finally clicked shut just before 1am.
Jimin couldn’t move until 3am for fear that Yoongi would hear him and know.
But that wasn’t enough to stop him torturing himself again.
The next weekend, when Jimin could only hear soft piano music, he risked everything to edge his door slowly open and peek through the narrow gap.
He found Yoongi tying silk ropes into intricate knots around another beautiful woman. Jimin could just see them from where he watched, making the door damp with his shallow breaths as he followed the deft motions of Yoongi’s hands.
He teased her, fingers trailing lightly over her skin as he moved around her, his touch barely whispering over her and avoiding any pleasure points.
A slow brush over her waist had her stomach drawing in and sending a shiver through her. She looked at Yoongi with hungry eyes but she could barely move. Neither of them spoke as he worked on his masterpiece.
Each visitor Jimin had seen or heard seemed to provide Yoongi with something different.
Some he fucked furiously. He wasn’t mean, but just as rough as the person beneath him needed as they begged for more. Some he hurt on purpose, then soothed them with a calming voice and gentle hands afterwards. And some weeks he didn't fuck them at all, just played for hours, teasing until his lover was crying and desperate. They all left with a satisfied glow that Jimin was beginning to envy.
It was a glimpse into a world that Jimin had never seen outside of a few bad movies, but he couldn’t help himself; he was fascinated.
It was with mixed feelings that Jimin caught a glimpse of Yoongi’s next guest a few weeks later.
So far, Yoongi hadn’t hosted the same person twice, but none of them acted like strangers.
As if to answer Jimin’s unspoken question, that weekend’s guest was male.
Jimin closed his door and snuck back into his bed as silently as possible, but the man’s cries soon followed him under the sheets.
At least before, he understood what that girl had that he didn’t, but what was the difference between this random guy and Jimin?
At least his ass wasn’t flat.
The stupid guy was hot though, he admitted to himself begrudgingly. He was bigger than Yoongi and fit like some kind of athlete, but that didn’t stop Yoongi from bringing him to his knees.
Jimin told himself it wasn’t interesting enough to touch himself to anyway, but with his eyes closed, half naked in the sheets, his lies fell apart.
The slapping of Yoongi’s thighs against the man’s flat ass was drawing him in spite of himself. Before he realised it, his dick was in his hand, the steady stroke of his fist keeping time with Yoongi’s every thrust.
When Yoongi finally let the big man come an hour later, Jimin muffled his own cry in his pillow, arms shaking as he spilled over his fist.
As the usual sounds of the clean up continued outside his room, Jimin watched the shadows shift on his ceiling, thoughts running in circles.
What does he have that I don’t? What do they all have?
He didn’t know when his horny thoughts had shifted into real insecurities, but it was too late to go back. It took him hours to fall asleep that night, and even his dreams were a sweet kind of torture.
Instead of staying back to practice after his Monday morning dance class like he usually did, Jimin washed up quickly and made his way to a discreet store a few streets over. He hoped it was far enough from campus that no one would recognise him.
The sex shop seemed small from the outside, just one unmarked red door with the business hours on it, but inside it was an altar to whichever gods presided over the pleasures of the flesh.
Jimin hesitated by the door, assaulted by the colourful displays on either side. It was thankfully empty, maybe lunch time was a strange time to be sex toy shopping.
Before the faint bell above the door could summon a salesperson, he grabbed a little pink basket and hurried into the first mystery aisle.
He was met with a wall of cabinets, the more expensive items locked behind the glass when he tested the latch. As he rounded a corner, the glass shelves shone with reflected light, displaying the most popular items that month.
Jimin’s eyes were round as he took it all in. Some of the items were completely foreign, and he frowned as he inspected the more complicated ones. Others he had only learned of the past few weeks from afar.
He ran his finger down the edge of a studded leather paddle, a shiver running through him as he remembered a similar one in Yoongi’s hands, the sound as it whistled through the air, then the smack as it hit flesh. Jimin always jolted as if it were his bare ass under the paddle.
Jimin kept his head down as he passed the sales counter, eyes widening immediately when he found himself in an aisle of very large, uh, appendages. Some of them were even bigger than Yoongi’s, but he moved quickly past, trying to shake himself of his nerves.
He was just feeling a little worked up. It was normal.
He had been single for what felt like forever. With all the work he'd done over the last few years to secure a spot at a good Seoul university, there hadn't been any time for more than a casual hook up, even if they just left him feeling empty afterwards.
Seeing Yoongi in the middle of all... that, had been eye-opening. And the more he heard, the more he realised how far removed he was from anything resembling a sex scene, BDSM or otherwise. Jimin was human too, and he couldn't suppress his own needs indefinitely.
Though he'd never been very lucky with men, he missed the physical release of sex. Jerking off just wasn’t enough.
He'd never experimented with sex toys before, but Yoongi had a large collection, wherever he kept them the rest of the week. Some of them had sounded really good, though it was hard to tell how much of the reactions were to the toys and how much to Yoongi himself.
He had an idea what he was looking for, but it was becoming overwhelming as he moved from shelf to shelf, finding bizarre devices on each new surface. He didn’t even know where to start with some of them, it was a whole new world.
He just wanted a little help stretching his hole, why was it so hard?
His attention was pulled momentarily to a costume section, but he blushed furiously when he realised the cute Sailor Moon costume he was admiring had a few extra convenient holes. He moved quickly away, reaching the back of the store and looping back to the counter in the middle.
There was a glass bowl of miniature lube sachets at the counter, their bright colours and sweet flavours merchandised into some kind of adults-only candy jar.
Jimin was just perusing the display of edible underwear before the register and gathering his courage to ring for help, when a voice spoke up from the shadows.
“Hey, sailor,” said a cheerful voice. “First time?”
Jimin looked up to see the most beautiful man he’d ever seen, leaning nonchalantly against the door to the back room. The man wiggled his eyebrows when Jimin said nothing, but he quickly picked his jaw up off the floor as the man approached.
“Uh, no- I mean, yes it’s my first time coming here,” Jimin stuttered out.
Idiot. He wasn’t asking about that kind of first time.
“Thought so, Joonie would have mentioned such a pretty face,” the salesman said with a wink.
Jimin felt his face flush. What kind of stranger says that? “Um, thanks?”
“No problem,” the man smiled. “I’m Jin. Welcome to Bang Bang. You look a little lost, can I help you find something?”
Jimin opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out.
Jin took pity on him. “Here,” he said, pulling a brochure over. “Anything you’re looking for?”
He felt like he was at a foreign restaurant, unable to understand the menu, but at least there were pictures. He pointed at a section silently.
“Excellent choice! Follow me.”
Jin led him to the front corner of the store, and gestured to an artistic display of dildos with a flourish. “Voilà! As you can see, we have many fine wares on offer today, of various sizes and all at reasonable prices. Do any catch your eye, good sir?”
Jimin was sure his face was just permanently stained pink as he stared at the wall of toys. Thankfully this section was more reasonably sized than the one he’d been faced with before, and with far fewer suction cups.
“No need to be shy. This could be for a gift, or a partner, or for you. If it feels good, there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”
At his encouragement, Jimin moved towards one shelf, admiring a selection of glass dildos. Maybe he could blame Tae for getting him back into the magical girl trope, but a clear glass toy with a heart on the end was drawing his attention. It sparkled like a jewel under the lights.
“Ah, the Love Wand,” Jin said almost fondly, taking a boxed one down from the shelf. “I see you are a man of taste.”
Jimin smiled awkwardly, still not fully adjusted to the salesman’s casual manner.
“You don’t need to tell me anything, but the person who may use this, have they used toys before?”
Jimin sighed and looked down before looking back at Jin with a little more confidence. “No, I haven’t,” he admitted.
Jin smiled gently. “While this one is gorgeous,” he said, placing it in Jimin’s basket. “You may want to try something more comfortable and work your way up. Something like this.”
He brought up a practical set of butt plugs, ranging in size from small to large. They were simple, matte black, and had a gentle flare shape coated in silky soft silicone. The smallest plug began at about the size of Jimin’s pinkie finger at the tip and flared to about two fingers side by side.
Jimin gave it a measuring look. It looked comfortable enough.
Back at the counter, he added a bottle of water based lube to his little pile at Jin’s suggestion as the salesman wrapped his items in tissue paper.
He placed them in an unmarked bag, before fixing Jimin with an appraising look. “You’re a student, aren’t you? I can feel the stress radiating off of you. What’s your favourite flavour?”
Jimin was confused by the abrupt change of subject. “What? Vanilla?”
“Really?” Jin asked, before shaking his head. He dragged the big candy jar towards him and stuck his hand in. “You look like a peach kind of person, or maybe strawberries and cream with those cheeks.”
He pulled several different lube pods out and tossed them into the bag, burying them under the tissue.
“Oh, you don’t have to-” Jimin rushed to say, but Jin waved his protest away.
“They’ll make everything smell like a fruit salad, won’t that be nice? And you can come visit again and buy the next round when you run out, okay?” Jin grinned.
Jimin nodded, though he had a feeling it would be a long time before he felt ready for another experience like this.
“Hyung, you could have called me,” a deep voice called as another gorgeous man came through the back door. He stepped up, resting a hand on Jin’s shoulder. “I was finished lunch anyway.”
“You worry too much, Joonie. This little peach and I are having a good time, aren’t we?”
“Uh-”
“You don’t need to answer that,” the other man said with a laugh. “I’m Namjoon, sorry to leave you alone with my lovely manager for so long. Did he sell you anything you don’t actually want? Speak now or forever be stuck with that weird kimchi flavoured lube.”
Jimin laughed when Namjoon sent a dimpled grin his way, though it only started a friendly argument with his manager, who was already glaring at the slightly taller man.
“He didn’t,” Jimin hurried to explain. “I actually like kimchi.”
Jin grinned at his attempt, sneaking another pod into the shopping bag as Namjoon laughed. “I’m glad, we’re always happy to see a new face in our little hole in the wall.”
“I’ll give you a hole in the wall,” Jin muttered, but Namjoon just slid his arm around Jin’s waist, and Jimin lost his breath for a moment when he saw the soft smile they shared.
He looked away, feeling like he was intruding on something private, but Jin soon cleared his throat to break the moment. He tapped the bag, before sliding it across the counter. “Wash these before you go sticking them anywhere fun, okay?”
Jimin nodded his thanks, keen to be out from under the handsome man’s focus. Namjoon had begun to tease Jin even before their goodbyes were finished. It took three blocks before Jimin’s face had cooled enough to call himself a taxi.
Jimin was grateful that Yoongi was still locked away in his studio when he came home, and not around to witness him smuggling his new treasures into the apartment.
It was silly to be ashamed when he considered Yoongi’s sizeable collection, but his shiny new My First Butt Stuff kit was amateur in comparison.
He closed his door and emptied the contents of the bag onto his bed. He wished he was confident enough to do a little unboxing video for Taehyung, the wand he’d chosen was really pretty.
He brought it out of its white silk lined box and held it up. The afternoon sun shone through it, sparkling on each of the three bulbs that ran down the length. There was a gap where his fingers didn’t meet around its girth. Jin was right, he would have to work his way up to it.
He gathered his new toys and took them into his bathroom to wash them and then himself. He was a little nervous but he couldn’t wait to give them a test drive.
Yoongi looked up in surprise when Jimin opened his bedroom door later that afternoon, but went back to his dinner prep a moment later. "I didn't hear you come in. What have you been up to today?" he asked idly.
"Ah, training mostly," Jimin replied, gingerly taking a seat at the counter. "You know how it is, Hyung. Just trying to fit everything in."
He heard his own phrasing a second later and fought a blush as he unconsciously clenched around the plug in his ass.
He’d taken his time fingering himself at first, head falling back against the tiles, muffling a moan when he accidentally brushed his prostate. It had been so long since he’d had anything inside him, he was so sensitive.
It wasn’t long before the thought of Yoongi working away just down the hall worked him up. He imagined it was Yoongi’s thick fingers spreading him open instead, before he gave in, grabbing a sachet of lube and pouring it over the smallest of the plugs. He hadn’t bothered to check what flavour it was, but he was groaning a moment later when tangerine flooded his senses.
Of all scents, it had to be one that reminded him of his roommate. He let his eyes fall closed as the Yoongi in his head spread him open, teasing the tip of the plug against his tight little hole.
Yoongi laughed softly, bringing Jimin sharply back to reality when he glanced up, thinly slicing spring onions to garnish the stew. He made a point of looking Jimin up and down and snorting. "I'd say you were done, Jimin-ah, you won. You're perfectly fit."
A few weeks ago, he would have cringed at Yoongi's joke, maybe even said that he had an old man's sense of humour, but not anymore.
Now he could only imagine Yoongi fitting perfectly inside of him.
"Have you had dinner?" Yoongi asked suddenly, dragging Jimin back from the gutter again, fuck.
"No, but I'm okay, I had a late breakfast and an early lunch."
Yoongi's eyes rolled towards him as he checked the rice cooker. "Were they the same meal?"
Jimin hadn't anticipated the small torture of having to maintain a normal conversation while the plug stretched his hole and desperate thoughts filled his head. He couldn't help being distracted, he was sure his roommate would somehow know.
"...Maybe, but it was a lot."
Yoongi sighed, and began doling out the hot rice and stew. “I’m sure you danced a lot today, Jimin-ah. Eat.”
He set a steaming bowl before him, piled high with Jimin's favourite pork and kimchi jjigae, with another smaller bowl of fluffy white rice. He tried to ignore the way Yoongi’s commanding voice sent heat through him in some fucked up Pavlovian response.
The spices wafted up to seduce him before he could even utter a word of protest anyway, and he looked up to find Yoongi holding out a spoon with a satisfied smile.
Jimin finally broke into a short laugh, but accepted it with an exaggerated sigh. "As you wish, Hyung."
As the old proverb said, all good things must come to an end.
Though Jimin doubted anyone would class what he had been doing as good.
Over the past weeks, he’d fallen into a routine almost as seamless as Yoongi’s. Each Saturday afternoon, he showered, dressed and went out, only to sneak back in when he knew Yoongi would be occupied.
Everything was going well that night, for Yoongi and his guest as well, and Jimin was getting sleepy as the evening came to a close. It had sounded like there had only been standard rough sex on that night’s menu, and Jimin was happy to have had two very nice orgasms as he kept pace.
As he quietly disposed of another handful of tissues, he told himself that this was the last time, that he could stop anytime he liked, and that Yoongi would never have to know what a terrible person he was.
But Jimin had grown complacent.
Kimi wa kikoeru? Boku no kono koe ga!
He almost fell off his bed when the music blasted from his phone speaker. The stupid ringtone that he and Taehyung had set up when they got too invested in an old anime a few months ago. One Yoongi had heard before and knew very well belonged to him.
Fuck fuck fuck.
He scrambled to grab it from his nightstand, shame washing through him when he saw his mother’s contact photo on the screen. He swiped the call straight to voicemail and set it to do not disturb as fast as he could.
He froze, listening to the sounds outside his room as he gripped the phone in a sweaty palm. He couldn’t make out the murmured conversation, but he didn’t dare move.
A dozen excuses ran through his head.
Maybe Yoongi hadn’t heard it, he tried to convince himself, he was distracted with his guest after all. But that was ridiculous. Like an idiot, he’d had his volume right up from his dance practice that morning, and hadn’t adjusted it since.
Maybe Jimin had left it at home accidentally. He’d gone out without his phone, that was reasonable, people did that all the time. Maybe Yoongi wouldn’t check.
Too many maybes.
What if he did come in? Jimin scanned the room for hiding spots, but he knew perfectly well that there was nowhere to hide in the small space. He only had the bathroom, and if Yoongi checked there it was all over.
If his roommate came in, could he pretend to have fallen asleep? I felt sick, sorry Hyung... he imagined himself saying and it was quickly becoming true. He could summon his biggest puppy dog eyes, Yoongi couldn’t resist those. Though Yoongi had literally seen him leave that afternoon, so even that was a long shot.
Jimin’s sense of dread only grew with each dead end he came to, but he still didn’t budge as he heard Yoongi and his guest moving just past his door.
“You sure?” came Yoongi’s low murmur, then the sound of a kiss. “Okay, baby. Let me know if you need anything.”
Usually, Yoongi showered too, but there was only one set of footsteps before the bathroom door closed.
A minute passed in silence, and Jimin began to relax, slumping in his bed.
Yoongi wasn’t coming in, and he must have returned to his room because there was no sound from the hall.
Jimin almost swore aloud when his phone flashed bright in the darkness beside him again, thankfully silent this time. His roommate’s pouty face filled the screen, twisting a knife into Jimin’s stomach as the full reality of what he’d been doing came back to him.
He couldn’t do anything, just watching dully as his phone rang. It seemed to ring forever but he couldn’t even send it to voicemail without risking accidentally hitting answer.
Eventually, the call dropped on its own and Jimin let out a long breath. Yoongi never came into his room, knowing it was only fair if he wanted his own privacy respected. At least one of them was decent.
After a moment, the other set of footsteps moved down the hall and Jimin’s side of the apartment grew quiet again.
He held the power button down on his traitorous phone until its life blinked out, and vowed to never do anything like this ever again.
Jimin waited until after 2am, until the apartment grew still and he was sure Yoongi was in bed, hopefully already deep asleep.
He had intended to do his usual little charade one last time.
He’d sneak out, make a show of rattling his keys in the door and come back in, then he could feel more secure grabbing a glass of water, or move around his room in more than absolute silence.
But he was wrong.
Yoongi wasn’t asleep, and Jimin’s luck had finally run out.
As soon as he edged his door quietly open, roughly dressed with his shoes wedged under one arm, he saw him.
Yoongi was sitting on the other side of the hallway, one leg crossed over his knee and fingers threaded together beneath his chin like he was observing an opposing chess player.
He must have pulled the chair over when he’d moved his sex furniture out of the living room, that familiar noise masking the other.
Jimin’s brain decided to focus on that pointless detail, as if it made any difference. He stared at Yoongi, mouth open, a deer frozen in the headlights, and only broke free when his shoes dropped with a clatter to the floor, one and then the other.
“Hyung-” he began, but a sharp look stopped him in his tracks.
“No, you don’t get to speak right now,” Yoongi cut him off, and oh, he was furious. He stood up and Jimin realised suddenly just how much broader the older man was, even if he was only a little taller.
"What the hell were you doing here, Jimin? What part of non-negotiable did you not fucking understand?"
The line of his jaw was tight, but Jimin caught the hurt that flashed through his eyes when his suspicions were confirmed. It was the loss of trust Jimin had known was coming as soon as he’d returned to their apartment that second Saturday. He’d known and continued to toe the line like a damn idiot, but the panic and shame was worse than he could have ever imagined with Yoongi standing right before him.
He rushed to explain, his hands out and pleading as the guilt threatened to close his throat. “Hyung, I’m sorry, I- I know I fucked up, but,” Jimin said, and even he could hear the desperation in his voice. “But please don't kick me out, you don't need to kick me out! I can help you," he insisted.
Yoongi was already shaking his head. He folded his arms across his chest but Jimin powered on, ignoring every warning signal firing through his brain.
"I can! I didn't mean to see you, but I could help you, ah, relax. Like with those people-"
Jimin faltered when Yoongi's eyes narrowed on his last word. He knew he’d fucked up even worse, Yoongi was too smart not to realise what ‘people’ implied. Jimin hadn’t even officially known Yoongi wasn’t straight, and he was making it worse by accidentally confirming that tonight’s little listening party wasn’t his first.
He’d seen his roommate mad before, but never like this, never directed at him. Yoongi’s expression grew darker the longer he stared at him; the quiet between them was scary.
He rushed ahead before Yoongi could speak, a last ditch effort to save himself, whatever it took.
"They only come on weekends, but I can help you any day, like- like in the evenings after work or on your lunch break when I get back from class, not just Saturdays!" His eyes were wide and imploring as he fumbled to find the words. "You wouldn't have to find someone every week, because I'd already be here!"
Was he crazy to think his idea sounded kind of reasonable? Maybe.
Yoongi looked away with an incredulous laugh, rubbing a hand over his face before he focused on Jimin again. He looked like he’d aged ten years since the start of the evening. "Oh yeah? What exactly would you have me do to relax?"
"Anything," Jimin breathed. "You can do anything to me."
His heart was beating too fast as he waited for Yoongi’s response. He felt like he'd stepped off a ledge, and he wasn’t sure if he was about to fly or fall. As the delayed cartoon version of himself stared at the canyon below, he began to wonder again how he’d got into such a good university.
"Anything?" Yoongi laughed, the sound a bitter taste on the back of Jimin’s tongue. "You don't even know what you're asking for."
"Anything that makes you feel good," Jimin said, a desperate but determined gleam in his eyes.
He did know what he was asking for, at least a little. He knew exactly what he wanted. He thought that would be it, that would be enough. Though he’d never had to explicitly offer sex, no man had ever turned him down before.
But those men weren't Min Yoongi.
Yoongi stared at him for a long moment, and Jimin was proud that he stayed steady, and didn't look away even as his cheeks grew steadily pinker.
"Go to bed, Jimin," Yoongi finally said, dismissively. His tone was flat now, no longer straining with anger, but nothing like the usual fond tone he reserved for his favourite dongsaeng. "We’re not done with this, but I can’t even look at you right now.”
Jimin slumped back against the wall as Yoongi turned away. He would have preferred to be struck rather than hear those words from him, no matter how much he deserved them.
“You're lucky you're not already out on the fucking street."
As Yoongi’s bedroom door slammed shut on his last words, Jimin began to cry.