Chapter Text
“I think I like Yoongi hyung,” Jimin said to him one day, a little out of the blue, and more than a little jarring-sounding in the middle of what they were doing.
They were nestled together on the floor, re-watching random episodes of Game of Thrones because Jimin had said to him yesterday that he didn’t think the show had any particularly large amounts of gratuitous nudity in it, and Taehyung, not only inclined to disagree but incessantly insistent on proving himself to be right, decided they couldn’t leave this issue unresolved for one second longer.
“Yeah?” Taehyung replied, blowing some of his own long hair out of his eyes, which had seemingly started growing at an exponential rate since summer, ever since Jimin had insisted he looked hotter with longer hair. He didn’t do it for him; Jimin was just very perceptive and happened to have good taste in all things unrelated to romantic partners.
He was vaguely used to Jimin finding new people in their school to fancy every other week, sometimes two at once. Last week it had been their biology teacher and Taehyung had questioned if Jimin had any taste at all. The week before that it had been some guy he’d partnered with at dance practice, who had been taller (classic Jimin), buffer (again, this was getting predictable), and confident in his strides.
Which was why Yoongi, who was two years older than them, was somewhat a bit out of left field. He wasn’t particularly buff or tall, and he was older, but not by thirty years. Taehyung scrunched up his nose, eyeing Jimin for the first time since they’d turned the TV on. He was glowing; beaming up at Taehyung where he sat; like he was nursing the most explosive information ever bestowed upon man.
“Yeah,” Jimin said, looking down at his hands. He had a stupid little grin on his face, half-pursing his mouth to himself and decidedly not watching Viserys and Doreah lock lips in the bathtub. It was annoying Taehyung a little, especially since he’d spent a copious amount of time researching and locating each scene by means of manual labour.
“And what are you gonna do about it?” He asked, finally relenting and pausing the episode, while turning his body fully sideways to face Jimin on his dingy, brown couch. “I’m sure he has half the girls in his class crawling after him.”
It was true. Despite Yoongi’s lack of assets in the height and breadth department, he had dyed hair and a copious amount of piercings; almost always wearing leather jackets or ripped denim, and Taehyung was almost certain he had single-handedly been responsible for the spike in cigarette sales at the corner stores close to their school grounds. He somehow got away with having one tucked behind his ear at all times when he wasn’t smoking behind the gym, throwing the butts haphazardly around after. At least Taehyung threw his in the trash, like a lawful degenerate.
“I know,” Jimin said with a pout, picking at his fingers absentmindedly. Taehyung could tell he was thinking about him, just like Taehyung had done. “But he smiled at me at lunch today. Like, from all the way across the room. That has to be good for something, right? Like, why did he do that?”
“You were in the way and he was aiming for someone behind you,” Taehyung suggested, laughing to himself. Jimin sent him a glare, crossing his arms.
“Be helpful or shut up,” the smaller boy pressed, seeming very uninterested in continuing their TV marathon all of a sudden. Taehyung held his hands up, smiling.
“Alright, alright,” he offered, scooching a little closer to Jimin where he sat. Regardless of how much he cared about this, Taehyung did like to think he had good game and wasn’t half bad at giving advice. “Seduce him, obviously. He’s a senior—you know he won’t have time for anything childish that doesn’t involve the promise of sex.”
“Right,” Jimin agreed, biting the inside of his cheek. Then, he deflated back into the couch, exhaling hopelessly. “Well, first I need to figure out how to talk to him at all. We don’t have any classes together or run in the same circles.”
“Does he go to your dance performances?” Taehyung tried, chucking the remote into the pillow on the far end of the couch. The TV would turn itself off in due time, set on a timer. “Half the school comes to those, right?”
“I don’t know...I can’t really see the audience with the light in my eyes,” Jimin reasoned. Taehyung never went to the performances because modern dance and long hours of sitting still weren’t really his thing. But Jimin also didn’t go to Taehyung’s baseball games because he thought team sports were boring, so they were square.
“Just start dressing a little sluttier,” Taehyung suggested next, staring down at the fluffy cream sweater Jimin was wearing and completely understanding why Jimin was still a virgin. He wasn’t a prude by any means, but he was a little different to most of the guys in their grade. “I’m sure he’ll spot you from across the school and figure out the whole talking to you thing on his own.”
“Crop tops?” Jimin asked, lifting the hem of his sweater up a little to expose his soft tummy. Taehyung stared at his navel.
“Sure. Skinny or ripped jeans, maybe. Some eyeshadow.”
“We’re not even allowed to wear that to school,” Jimin groaned, rolling his head back on the couch again. It was usually easier coaching people through stuff like this when they were more cooperative than a petulant child, Taehyung thought.
“Alright, well smile and flirt a little,” Taehyung tried then, reaching his hand out to tap Jimin under his chin, then lightly tap him across the cheek. “Ask him to borrow a pencil. Tell him his jacket looks cool. Shit like that.”
He could see the little cogs turning in Jimin’s brain, his overactive nodes stressing and planning things that he could try out tomorrow. They left it at that, Jimin leaving his house seemingly more tense than before. But nothing was won without a battle, and Jimin would eventually learn this.
*
He watched somewhat sympathetically as Jimin paced around in the courtyard, trying to solidify the courage to walk over to Yoongi and talk to him. Yoongi was sitting at a table with his friends, seeming to be working on some homework problems while also eating bites of lunch. The entire bunch of them were taking up a lot of space, and nobody dared to sit in any of the adjacent tables.
“Fuck,” he heard Jimin hiss, watching him pinch his own hands pink. He’d been whiny since the morning, sending Taehyung a string of word-vomit texts before school and being generally quite difficult.
“Stop stalling. Just go,” Taehyung ushered, knowing that sometimes Jimin preferred being told what to do to eliminate the horror of options and stalling.
“You just go,” Jimin retorted nonsensically, kicking a rock near his feet. Taehyung leaned his head in his hand against the table that he’d planted himself down at, wondering if he could take his lunch out yet.
“I’m not the one who wants Yoongi to hot dog me.”
Jimin blushed profusely, clutching his own arms. It was a bit nippy out, but Jimin was sweating so much that he insisted on not wearing his coat. Taehyung could sympathise, but not enough to warn him he might catch hypothermia. He would share some of his tea with Jimin later, when he came back. Like a little reward. They always shared lunches anyways, and sat at the same table every day. The entire school knew they were attached at the hip, only really hanging out with each other. They had to keep up appearances.
“Fuck—yeah, okay—just—” Jimin whined, before clenching his fists at his sides. Taehyung reached over and spanked his ass with a little love-tap, goodnaturedly, as if trying to spur him on. Jimin quickened to, finally taking a deep breath.
“Just remember my suggestions from yesterday,” Taehyung pointed out, already reaching into his backpack for his lunch box.
Jimin nodded profusely, finally heading over in Yoongi’s direction.
Taehyung half watched him and half focused on setting his rice and beans out, swearing to himself that he’d also packed an egg. Jimin got to them faster than Taehyung predicted, and he looked up to see him talking, rolling a little on the balls of his feet. Yoongi had stopped what he was doing to look up at him, but so had everyone there. Honestly, Taehyung probably wouldn’t even have had the balls to do that.
Then, a wild development: the next time Taehyung looked up from his food, Yoongi was standing up, only to shrug his jacket off, and then—by some miracle of god—leaned over to drape it over Jimin’s shivering body.
Taehyung abandoned his lunch then, rubbing his eyes to make sure he was seeing things correctly, and that nobody had actually laughed at Jimin or that Jimin hadn’t passed out where he stood. And then, before he knew it, Jimin was walking back to him with quick strides, his face red as a tomato.
He was about to say something when Jimin interrupted, speaking hurriedly and desperately as he finally made it back to Taehyung’s side.
“You know how you said I should ask to borrow a pencil and tell him his jacket looked cool?” Jimin sputtered, almost hunching as he leaned over the table. Taehyung nodded, still stunned at the fact that Jimin was currently drowning in Yoongi’s signature denim jacket. “Well, I panicked and accidentally told him his pencil looked cool and asked if I could borrow his jacket.”
Taehyung stared at him, reigning his mouth in as he thought of saying something, before deciding against it and instead reaching out and touching the jacket. I was pretty decent quality, and heavy in his fingers.
“Well hey, wasn’t that more effective anyways?” He tried to comfort Jimin with, grinning up at him. “You have his jacket!”
“I don’t even know if he knows my name!” Jimin whined loudly, voice so thread-bare Taehyung was almost worried he might start panicking in the middle of school grounds. “How’s he supposed to come get his jacket back now?”
“You’ll give it back to him, dummy. Tomorrow.”
“Right,” Jimin agreed, squeezing his hands around the sleeves of it like it was a lifeline.
“Come on, Jimin; this is a good thing,” Taehyung insisted, taking a comforting position for the first time since they’d started talking about Yoongi. Clearly Jimin really needed some direct guidance. “Now you have a reason to talk to him again. And he gave you his jacket willingly.”
Jimin grimaced, glancing back at Yoongi and his group of friends with the quickest look Taehyung had ever seen.
“The girl sitting next to him totally gave me a death glare when he was draping his jacket over me,” Jimin lamented, plopping down on the bench opposite Taehyung.
“Yeah, because you’re closer to sitting on his dick than her now, and she can tell,” Taehyung offered, leaning over to ruffle Jimin’s hair. Unlike Taehyung, Jimin tended to take a lot of things personally and worry in instances where Taehyung wouldn’t. So that was when he stepped in to rectify whatever pattern of thought Jimin had gotten lost in this time. “You’re making progress! Just don’t masturbate while wearing his jacket tonight and you’ll be all good to go for tomorrow when you talk to him again.”
“Ew,” Jimin grimaced, shoving at Taehyung’s shoulder, then glancing over at Yoongi and his friends again, like he was worried and mortified that they would hear. “I wasn’t planning to.”
“Sure,” Taehyung said, glancing over at Yoongi and his friends, too. They were cooler than cool, all of them with expertly packed lunches, wearing clean silhouettes and hair cut and dyed to perfection. Effortless, to the point of it being almost annoying. Yoongi was busy talking, not taking his nonchalant hand off the back of the bench of the girl sitting next to him. Everything looked like it came so easy to them.
“Holy shit,” Jimin just said distantly, staring down at his hands, which were sweater-pawed by the jacket.
Indeed.
*
The next time Jimin told him to come over, it was for the new A24 movie on Netflix, which Jimin seemed more than eager to see.
“So then I gave it back to him, and he pet my hair, telling me I could borrow his jacket whenever I needed to,” Jimin rambled, having repeated himself almost three times for Taehyung, who was having trouble absorbing his words. Jimin had been giddy and excitable about this both over text and in person, while Taehyung was still trying to process the fast progression of this little project.
“He touched you?” Taehyung tried to clarify.
“Pet me, Taehyung. Keep up,” Jimin groaned, with both a dreamy voice and expression, so love-sick Taehyung scrunched his nose a bit in a slight cringe. “He pet me in the hallway, in front of the entire school. In front of his friends.”
“Well look at you, you little minx,” Taehyung chuckled, grabbing for Jimin’s clunky remote and trying to work the arrow buttons to spell out the name of the movie. Jimin, seemingly, had forgotten about the movie entirely, talking giddily and animatedly about what had happened at school that day when he’d finally returned Yoongi’s jacket. Apparently, it had been immeasurably successful.
“And he even texted me before you came, asking me if I wanted to see his record collection, because I’d mentioned that—”
“Record collection?” Taehyung interrupted, raising a pointed brow and twisting his lips. “Well that’s an abusive relationship waiting to happen.”
“Taehyung!” Jimin chastised, rolling his eyes for the hundredth time that night. “Can you be serious, please?”
“I am serious,” he insisted, eyes sneaking back to the TV to press play on the movie. He’d be damned if Jimin would talk his way through the entire thing, or not let them even start it at all. Sure, he did like listening to Jimin, but not at the expense of Art.
“Alright, well...I actually had something to ask you,” Jimin said then, seeming a bit more hesitant than before. Taehyung dropped the remote, looking over at him inquisitively. Jimin seemed stunted, having a hard time drawing proper breath. The movie was starting in the background, but now neither of them were paying attention. Taehyung raised a brow.
“Can you...could you…” Jimin tried, but there appeared to be something making him unable to speak properly. Taehyung lifted a pointed brow again, staring directly at him. Jimin reached a hand out to touch Taehyung’s knee, eyes imploring. His fingers were so little; Taehyung couldn’t help but notice every time he saw his hands.
“Spit it out,” Taehyung encouraged, half confused, but also soft and inquisitive.
“Um,” Jimin tried again, dumbly. Taehyung peered down at him in slowly blooming adoration. He loved everything about Jimin, really, but when he got shy like this, a little fumbly with his words and flustered, Taehyung couldn’t help but feel extra fond. Taehyung was one of the only people to see him in this state, after all. Nobody else tended to pay attention for long enough. “I-I don’t think I want Yoongi to be my first time. Like for sex. I don’t wanna seem inexperienced or clumsy. I feel like it’ll just be too embarrassing…”
“So what are you saying?” Taehyung pressed automatically, despite having a good idea of exactly what he was saying. His neck heated up, his chest thumping a little harder as his heart did a number between his ribs. Damn, his hands were even getting clammy. Kinda pathetic. Kinda weird.
“Just that…” Jimin seemed to be really struggling, his warm hand still resting peacefully on Taehyung’s lap. Suddenly, that was a lot. “C-Can you do it?”
“I’m sorry, what was that?” Taehyung said, half to buy himself some time to process that this was really happening, and half so he could watch Jimin turn even redder, face furiously blushing as he stared at Taehyung’s lap like he’d just killed someone.
“Fuck you—you know what I’m saying!” Jimin retorted, wringing his fingers together now. They were probably clammy with nerves, and something dark and sinister in Taehyung thought that was cute enough to give himself a gradually expanding semi, right in full view of Jimin’s eyes, if he even had the wit to look.
“You asked me over to Netflix and chill in 2021?” Taehyung chastised, very used to his habit of driving Jimin up the wall and teasing him. Only this time, it made Jimin pink and red with shame; fully and unabashedly.
“I don’t know who else to ask,” Jimin insisted, staring down at Taehyung’s knee only, refusing to look anywhere else. Taehyung swallowed, staring at Jimin’s tummy, which was on display now in a crop-top, as per his insistence.
“I don’t even have any lube. I fuck girls,” Taehyung said matter-of-factly, head swimming a little, in a way that was kind of disorienting. Jimin furrowed his brows.
“So? You should be using lube with girls, too,” Jimin reprimanded, coming out so fast Taehyung had no idea where he got that confidence to speak about sex-ed. In fact, he felt a little blind-sided.
“Oh?” Taehyung only managed to utter, brows tied up above his eyes. He was sweating a little too now, and he wondered if Jimin had noticed.
“It can hurt for them if they’re not wet enough,” Jimin explained, like he was reciting the back of a nurse pamphlet.
“Thank you for the pussy-fucking advice, you raging homosexual,” Taehyung shot back, feeling slightly affronted.
“Good sex-ed isn’t exclusive to one sexuality,” Jimin bit out under his breath, rolling his eyes to himself. Always so technical and nit-picky about things. “And besides, guys can—”
“Where is this coming from?” Taehyung stopped him with, sitting up a little straighter and observing how it made Jimin shush instantly. Was the movie even still playing? He had no idea. “How long have you been drooling over me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jimin mumbled while rolling his eyes again, retreating his hands from him. “Besides, I thought you said you were curious about trying guys…”
“I guess?” Taehyung said with a shrug, thinking Jimin looked absurdly small where he was sitting in his slutty little crop top. And if Jimin rolled his eyes one more time, he might lose his mind. “I don’t know.”
“Well, whatever,” Jimin mumbled, huffing out a puff of air. He craned his neck, his hair falling into his eyes. “Just close your eyes when you do it.”
“I’m not going to close my eyes while taking my best friend’s virginity,” Taehyung shot back, feeling weird about the movie playing in the background now. It was, actually, still playing.
“Well, however you wanna do it, then,” Jimin offered. He was licking his bottom lip and chewing on it at the same time, looking to the side. It was a nervous tick. Taehyung obviously knew that. He really wanted this. “I just don’t have anyone else to ask.”
“What happened to big bulge dance boy?” Taehyung inquired, remembering a string of things Jimin had rambled about one day that he’d like that guy to do to him in a fit of smitten lust.
“You know that’s not the same thing,” Jimin whined, swallowing and nibbling on his bottom lip again. It was starting to get a little red. “I’m inexperienced and useless and I want someone who I’m comfortable with who won’t laugh at me.”
“Can’t exactly promise I won’t laugh at you,” Taehyung prodded, feeling gleeful at Jimin sticking his tongue out at him.
He just grinned to himself, his stomach swimming with weirdly new feelings as he contemplated this whole scenario. He had a fleeting intrusive thought about him ploughing into Jimin’s ass, rutting him into the couch in a slow, sensual rock of his hips. He shook his head, running a hand through his hair while observing Jimin, who was sitting mum and still next to him, seeming a little out of it. How bad could it be, really?
“Are you attracted to me?” Taehyung asked then, without thinking too much, raising his brows. Maybe he was teasing Jimin, or maybe he was also genuinely a little curious. Mostly curious. Jimin had never told him much about his escapades. He usually left that to Taehyung, who didn’t mind relaying info about girls he’d slept with and how it had felt. Jimin was a little more reserved about his activities, mainly opting to listen rather than talk himself. And maybe it had always been this weird unspoken thing between them that neither of them touched which had to do with Jimin being gay.
“Don’t make this weird,” Jimin begged him, face a little flat.
“You just asked if I’d fuck the virginity out of you—you don’t get to talk to me about making things weird,” Taehyung shot back, leaning an arm over the couch so that he could sit back more comfortably. But that also meant being closer to Jimin.
He reached for the remote, pausing the movie at a random scene in a store. Then he sighed to himself, observing Jimin as he sat mulling by himself, decidedly not looking at him.
It wasn’t like Taehyung had never thought about Jimin like that. He was sure everyone did, at some point—wondered what their friends would be like in bed. And whether they’d like to be there with them. He’d always pictured Jimin as bashful and hesitant, which probably wasn’t too far off. It was worlds away from Taehyung, who had more experience and brazenness that carried into his everyday interactions as well. Maybe it was the perfect fit.
“Alright, alright,” Taehyung relented, having dragged things out way too long already. It wasn’t like he was violently opposed to this. Jimin had a nice body. He was soft. Pretty. And those were just objective facts. They didn’t even blow renewed holes in his sexuality. Anyone with eyes could see that. “Let’s do it.”
Jimin bit back a small smile, blooming over the dejected insecurity. He looked up at Taehyung happily, until he was finally grinning. Taehyung smiled back, scratching the back of his head slightly.
“Okay, cool. I brought lube,” Jimin informed him, reaching for his backpack. Taehyung almost snorted.
“Presumptuous much?”
“Just hopeful,” Jimin stumped him with, still grinning as he fished the bottle out of his bag. Taehyung chuckled, catching the bottle when Jimin threw it at him. He placed it down on the couch, ignoring it for the moment. That was still a ways away, if he had any say.
Jimin looked at him, confused, until Taehyung pulled off his own shirt, before reaching for Jimin’s. It came off easy enough, leaving them half naked and expectant where they sat, staring at each other. He saw Jimin eye his happy trail from across from him, and noted that Jimin, apparently, was completely hairless, skin barely even kissed by the sun. Did he shave?
When Jimin didn’t move or say anything, he took it as his queue to go ahead, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss right on Jimin’s slack mouth as he took his head into his hands. Jimin closed his eyes quickly, only to open them again, clearly unprepared. Taehyung figured he was good to go ahead, placing a hand at the back of Jimin’s head and angling him so that he could slot them together just right, sinking his teeth into Jimin’s bottom lip and licking at his mouth to coax an opening this time around.
“Mmn,” Jimin said—or rather, sounded—whether surprise or arousal, he wasn’t quite sure, but he seemed to go slack in Taehyung’s hold, letting Taehyng cradle him and lead the kiss, tongue joining the mix soon after he practically inhaled Jimin’s mouth, both of his hands now on either side of the boy’s head, holding him steady.
“There you go,” Taehyung panted as he pulled back, Jimin’s eyes looking glassy and far gone. Taehyung himself felt a little light-headed, his arms tingling with warmth. He hadn’t exactly expected it to feel so good. But Jimin’s lips were plump and warm and he was pliant to the touch, so reactive to anything that Taehyung felt like a god.
He shifted to lay Jimin carefully backwards on the sofa so that he was looming over him, his hair tickling Jimin’s face. Jimin blinked up at him, potentially not expecting such a quick turn of events. Taehyung just smiled, trailing a hand up his chest until he rested it by his neck. He stroked Jimin’s cheek, not quite sure what was driving his brain other than muscle memory, until he dipped his head down to his chest, shuffling his legs in between Jimin’s in an intimate change of position.
He sucked an exposed, pink nipple into his mouth instinctively, laving it with attention as the smaller boy trembled beneath him. He wondered if Jimin ever toyed with his chest when he masturbated. Then he wondered if it was presumptuous to think such a thing just because Jimin was gay. He wasn’t sure about the politics of all of that.
“What are you doing?” He heard Jimin squeak from above, feeling a pair of hands on his head, tangling into his hair and pulling up.
He relented, lifting up from Jimin’s chest and furrowing his brows in annoyance. Jimin’s face was more red than he’d ever seen it, Jimin’s arms moving to cover his chest a little.
“What do you think I’m doing?” Taehyung crooned, frowning and wanting to get back to Jimin’s nipples so that he could make him squeak again, because apparently he’d found that so fun.
“I don’t know, but can we just get this over with?” Jimin begged, looking hesitantly down at his nipples. “I really don’t want this to be weirder than it already is.”
Taehyung raised a brow, leaning up by Jimin’s head. He cleared his throat.
“Okay listen, blonde baby bombshell,” Taehyung started, sitting completely up on his haunches and crossing his arms. “If we’re gonna do this, we’re gonna do it my way. You’re the one asking a favour of me, remember?”
Jimin whined, but relented, flopping his arms down by his head, exposing his chest back up. Taehyung couldn’t stop staring at it.
“Alright. Whatever,” Jimin grated, his stomach twitching a little as it registered Taehyung’s fingers returning.
“You’ll throw my mojo off if you butt in,” Taehyung said, splaying a big hand on Jimin’s stomach. Jimin shivered, breath hitching slightly. “I fuck good, okay? They all tell me that.”
“Who is ‘they’? And how many exactly?” Jimin’s voice was only muffled to him as he leaned down to lick a wet stripe up his skin.
“None of your business,” me mouthed out over a mouthful of Jimin’s chest.
“You were the one bragging.” He could practically hear the petulance off of Jimin’s tone. He elected to ignore it, kissing his way down to Jimin’s navel. Jimin let out a choked whimper at that, and it went straight to Taehyung’s cock.
“It’s getting real hard to keep my dick up with your constant talking,” Taehyung warned, only half lying. Truth was, Jimin’s warmth and reactions were making him harder than he’d been in a while, his brain going into overdrive as it pondered upon seating inside his warm, soft friend, turning his thoughts to mush. He wasn’t going to mull on the implications of that at all.
“Sorry,” Jimin said, only half sincere. “You can get back to sucking my tits, I guess.”
Taehyung sent him an ugly scowl, but didn’t let it stop him. His hands splayed confidently over Jimin’s ribs, fondling the warmth there.
“Just wait til you’re screaming my name with your toes curling into the cushions,” he grunted, dipping down again to take one of Jimin’s perky, pink nipples back into his mouth. An immediate yelp squeezed out of Jimin, his little hands flying to Taehyung’s hair and grabbing. Taehyung groaned, flattening his tongue against the nub and settling his hands on Jimin’s lithe waist, before deciding he needed to bat Jimin’s arms away, possibly even restrain them by his side, lest he never get anything done.
For all intents and purposes, Jimin didn’t feel that much different from a girl. He was soft—hairless, even—smelling faintly of roses. He was clearly groomed and ready, and Taehyung could feel his fat ass rest heavy against his thighs when he used his big brain to concentrate.
He moved to the other nipple, biting gently at that one to elicit a reaction, which Jimin gave to him in full. Jimin’s thighs clenched around his middle, a whiny, breathy moan dragging into the room. Good god was he grateful that Jimin’s parents were neglectful enough to never be home, just this once.
“Shh,” he cooed, stroking confident fingers down Jimin’s side. “I’m not even fucking you yet.”
He expected some sort of quippy retort, but Jimin’s arms just came up to wrap around the back of his neck, as if to keep him close. Jimin was warm and sweaty now, his skin feeling smooth against Taehyung’s chest. He wasn’t sure what to focus on more: the feeling of the naked parts of their bodies pressing together, or the fact that Jimin was beginning to wiggle his hips, effectively rutting his clothed hard-on against Taehyung’s.
“Fuck,” Taehyung bit out, meeting Jimin’s wanton little ruts with a series of full-force bucks of his hips. “You really want me to fuck you, huh?” He stated, knowing how blown his eyes were at this point and kind of leaving behind their carefully crafted social conventions for his horny brain to take over.
Jimin just responded by gurgling a little as he clutched Taehyung harder, clearly enjoying Taehyung’s practiced hip motions. The denim was starting to get grating between them.
Taehyung leaned up on his haunches again and kept Jimin’s legs suspended over his thighs as he unbuttoned and peeled his jeans off of him. He told Jimin to hook his arms under his knees and hold them up when he proceeded to his own, stripping himself faster than necessary as he kept an eye on Jimin’s ass the entire time.
He reached behind himself for the abandoned bottle of lube, checking the back briefly for instructions, before giving up and just squirting half the bottle out onto his palm.
“God, this is going to feel like a fucking slip-n-slide,” Jimin groaned as he finally managed to crane his neck enough to see what Taehyung was doing.
Taehyung scowled at him.
“You can complain to me after you feel how easy and painless and hot I’m going to make this for you,” Taehyung shot back, leaning his hand down to coat his cock and two of his fingers liberally, some excess slipping off and down onto Jimin’s couch in the process. He’d pay Jimin for the damages later, and/or offer to tell his mom he’d jacked off solo on there in explanation.
He started with one finger, slipping it in easily after Jimin told him that he usually masturbated with his ass. The second one was slightly harder to inch in beside the other in Jimin’s clenching hole, but with enough kissing and coaxing, it too made it in without much fuss. Taehyung pumped them in and out in slow motions, watching Jimin’s hole eat them up and hold them in the tightest vice he’d ever felt. Now he really was light-headed, his cock leaking pre-cum all over Jimin’s shin. But they were sticky and filthy enough at this point that even Jimin, who was complainer extraordinaire, did not care.
“Okay, okay, put it in,” Jimin urged impatiently, his voice nothing more than a needy whine at this point.
“I’m big—you know that, right?” Taehyung interjected, wrapping one hand around the base of his reddened, veiny cock. Jimin wouldn’t be able to wrap his entire tiny hand around it like that even if he tried.
“I’ve seen your dick before,” Jimin groaned impatiently, wiggling his hips again.
Taehyung held them down, staring straight into Jimin’s face as he leaned over him.
“Yeah, when we were thirteen, by accident—and not hard,” Taehyung deadpanned, grabbing Jimin’s hand and leading it down to his stiff cock, lining it up to the side. Jimin fumbled, before he grabbed at it, his face falling as soon as he did.
“Oh, fuck,” he practically whispered, eyes wider now. Taehyung just smiled down at him, patting his leg a couple times. He’d had at least one girl complain about the size of his dick before, which was not something he’d expected given the insane amount of competition him and guys around him had gone through their entire life equating a hefty size to holding the undisputed keys to Kingdom Cum.
“It’s okay, we’ll go slow,” Taehyung assured him, smiling optimistically as he waited for Jimin to pull his little hand back before lining the head of his cock up to his clenching entrance.
He paused there, assessing Jimin’s face and body language. Half of him looked relaxed and desperate to come, while the other half seemed a smidge more apprehensive. He leaned over him again, resting on his elbows by his head and kissing him, trying to get his mind off the size issue.
“More fingering?” He offered, getting ready to reach for the lube to slick his fingers up again.
Jimin grabbed at his hand, shaking his head. His face was red, but his eyes were determined, almost fierce.
“Just put it in,” Jimin whispered into his lips, wrapping his legs tighter around his hip so that Taehyung’s cock slid down between his cheeks, nestled there.
“Alright,” Taehyung huffed through a laugh, grabbing for his cock again and eyeing his movement as he held the head of it up against Jimin’s twitching hole. “We’ll do the head first. Tell me if it hurts.”
Pushing into Jimin was more difficult, the mushroomed tip of his head finding much resistance there as it opened the boy up more than anything had before. By the time he’d settled the head right inside the tight ring of muscle, Jimin was limp against the couch, head rolled back.
“O-Ow…” Jimin hissed, his face tending in pain as he tried to look back up.
Taehyung stopped instantly, eyes boring down at him. Somehow, in that moment, the fact that Jimin had trusted him enough to even be in this position, to do this with him, was doing a number on his head. He felt his throat clench, his eyes blinking away a weird bout of wetness until it disappeared behind his own self-hatred of being soft.
“You okay? Should I stop?” He asked hastily, reaching down to stroke Jimin’s sides in what he hoped was a sign of comfort.
“Just...give me a minute.” Jimin bit out, clenching so hard around him Taehyung had to grunt out and pinch himself to stay focused.
Jimin was breathing hard beneath him, and Taehyung wrapped his arms around his head, pressing their cheeks together. They breathed hard in unison for a little bit, before Jimin finally started loosening his vice grip around him. Jimin was still hard against their stomachs, his body so hot it felt thrumming.
“Oh f-fuck,” Jimin moaned, twitching to himself right under Taehyung’s nose. “Feel so full…”
“Yeah? You like my big cock?” Taehyung bragged to lighten the mood, his dick throbbing as it ached to start rocking into the tight heat awaiting him. It was taking his entire cabinet of self-control to not move, instead sitting dead still inside the tightest almost-pussy he’d been in his entire life.
“Ah…” Jimin moaned obscenely again at his words, completely ignoring his witty, little comment.
Or perhaps he wasn’t ignoring it. Jimin’s eyes were unfocusing and his entire body was spent as he seemed to lose it under him, whimpering and trembling there.
Taehyung froze, watching Jimin twitch under him, his eyes squeezing shut tight and his mouth hanging open obscenely. Then he felt a few spasms under him again, and looked down to see Jimin’s pink and painfully hard little cock drool a slow pooling of come all over himself, the cloudy fluid squirting out and pointing up his tummy, some of it even hitting his neck.
“Did you just come?” Taehyung said incredulously, taking in Jimin’s completely spent and red face, as well as his intense panting.
Jimin’s hands flew to cover his eyes. Taehyung pulled them off, smirking down at him and pinning them to the sides of his head with ease.
“Damn, you really were desperate to try having a cock in there, weren’t you?” He poked, satisfied with the non-answer Jimin gave him, still staring up at him with wet eyes, a flushed face, and a docile expression as he rode out his orgasm. He’d essentially rendered himself immune to any come-backs. “Should I congratulate myself for my monster cock or is this all you being a horny baby gay?”
“Sh-shut the fuck up,” Jimin finally managed to retort, still looking up at him with glassy eyes even at the mention of the terminology Jimin had taught him just a few months ago.
“So, should I get out?” Taehyung asked, half hoping to at least stay inside for a few more minutes, if only just to feel the heat so that he could remember it vividly for when he jacked off in the shower that evening.
Jimin shook his head, flinging an arm over it. Give him a minute, okay. Taehyung could wait. He spent his time biting the inside of his cheeks and trying not to groan gutturally at the warmth clenched all around him, gripping him like a vice. His head fell forward from his shoulders, and he felt his face grow hot. He squeezed the sides of Jimin’s waist for purchase, hoping not to drop sweat down on him.
“God, this is so embarrassing,” Jimin whined to himself, reaching down and touching the come at the lower part of his tummy. Taehyung groaned as he shifted, watching the salacious display with much difficulty. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go…”
“I can stay here until you get hard again?” Taehyung offered, feeling like he was seconds from blowing his load himself.
“Yeah, okay,” Jimin replied, not looking at Taehyung whatsoever. He wiped his sticky hand off on Taehyung’s arm, grinning to himself. Fucking tease. “How long does that take?”
Taehyung grinned down at him, reaching for his soft cock. Jimin winced when he gripped around it, squeezing pointedly. After a few long strokes, something stirred in Jimin’s member, the little thing chubbing up slowly. Jimin himself was moaning haphazardly again, wriggling around on the couch. Taehyung spat down on his cock, despite it already being thoroughly slick with lube. Obscenity optics, right?
When Jimin looked spent enough, cock half up and drooling pre-come again, Taehyung took the liberty to start pulling up, inching backwards.
“W-Wait, where are you—”
Taehyung put a finger up to his lips to silence him, before leaning over his body again and sliding his cock back in, returning to a bottomed out position. This seemed to awaken something feral in Jimin again, his voice breaking and his head thrashing around. His cock was well on its way back, and the lack of painful wincing told Taehyung it was okay to move.
“Fuck.” It was always so obscene to hear Jimin swear, and hearing it while his cock was lodged up his ass was a spiritual experience entirely.
“Good?” He asked, rolling his hips in small motions and drinking up all of Jimin’s repetitive moans, his elbows rested in a caged position around Jimin’s head, which seemed to be his default position of choice.
Jimin just nodded dumbly, eyes completely gone again and his mouth vacant of any muscle movement. Taehyung chuckled, diving down to kiss him slow and deep as he built up a steady rhythm, moving faster each time his hips slapped against Jimin’s ass. Jimin’s mouth was slack and warm and wet, making noises into him as he kissed around and poked his tongue inside, licking up his teeth and lips and enjoying him falling apart under all the ministrations.
Jimin seemed to try to wiggle his hips to meet Taehyung’s thrusts, but he felt boneless—exhausted from just being fucked into. Didn’t he say he’d make it good?
“I got you,” Taehyung assured him, slamming his hips down to stop Jimin’s tiny efforts, making sure he was caged in enough to give up on doing anything on his own. It was Taehyung who wanted to do this for him, to let him have this. He knew what he was doing. Jimin didn’t have to even lift a finger to be good for him, to feel so good.
“Taehyung—,” Jimin seemed to bleat then, his hands flying to his shoulders and his brows furrowing. So, he was close again.
“Come for me,” he whispered into Jimin’s mouth, speeding up his thrusts. He could feel himself getting closer, too, completely unsure why he was being so horny about it. He usually didn’t speak much in bed, because it took too much effort for little reward. But every word he said—Jimin seemed to hang off of it like he worshipped him. It was pretty hypnotizing.
Jimin came again with a high-pitched yelp, face so sweaty he looked like he’d run a mile. His entire body trembled, spent and in ecstasy, clenching harder around Taehyung’s cock. Taehyung groaned, feeling himself be yanked over the edge, too.
He settled deep inside of Jimin, grunting himself through his climax and spilling into him, his teeth edging out to bite at Jimin’s neck. They hadn’t discussed hickeys, but it was a little late now. It had felt right.
When he was done and felt like a person again, he pulled back, slowly slipping his softening cock out of Jimin’s ass. He took a few deep breaths, watching the mess he’d made of his best friend on his own couch.
“Well?” He pried expectantly, raising his brow as he sat back and flexed his muscles, hopefully subtly.
“You sucked,” Jimin responded, but the stupidest grin was playing at his red-bitten lips. He was still panting, still nursing trembling limbs and sweaty arms. Taehyung was pretty confident Jimin would never be fucked that good in his life, ever again. Unless Yoongi had a magic fucking cock.
“You did too.”
Just as he'd said that, a little 'ping' rang through the air, and he watched Jimin scramble around to look for his phone. When he finally found it and picked it up to check the screen, he had a dumb smile on his face, his arms clutching the device closer. It didn't take a genius to figure out who it was.
There really was no confidence boost quite like your piece hitting up another guy right after post-nut clarity.