Work Text:
Jimin, with every fiber of his being, hates Jeon Jungkook.
He would usually never admit that out loud of course, because admitting to hating him means admitting to caring about him in some way. And he doesn’t care about Jeon Jungkook. Not at all. He’s totally indifferent about him.
Usually.
But right now… man, right now he would gladly shout it from the rooftops, for the whole world to hear, that he fucking hates that fucking asshole.
He hates him more than that fucking storm that ruined his plans, he hates him more than the rude airline employee he spent half an hour arguing over the phone with yesterday, he hates him more than the fucking plane itself, which can’t take off just because it’s a bit windy outside, he hates him even more than the whole aircraft industry which is incapable of building planes that can withstand a tiny little storm!
He hates him more than anything because, right now, the fucker is already waiting for him in the parking lot even though they agreed to meet up at seven.
It’s six-thirty right now. Six-thirty. In the fucking morning!
I’m waiting. If you’re not here in 10 I’m gonna leave without you.
- Jeon Jungkook (6:29am)
wtf you said 7!
- You (6:32am)
woke up early. hurry up.
- Jeon Jungkook (6:33am)
Jimin hurls the last piece of clothing into his suitcase with a growl, followed by his toothbrush. He’s glad his roommate has already left a couple of days ago, which means nobody is here to be mad at him for the constant curses that fly out of his mouth while he’s hurrying around the room to get his shit packed and then to the parking lot behind his dorm in time.
Technically, ‘I’m gonna leave without you’ could be nothing more than an empty threat, but you never know when it comes to Jeon fucking Jungkook.
And yeah, technically Jimin could’ve started packing earlier. He did start earlier actually. Yesterday night to be specific, but then he got tired and decided to pack the rest in the morning because he thought he had time till seven and not six thirty!
He attempts to shut his suitcase and when he can’t manage to keep the fucking thing closed for the life of him he plants himself on top of it, ass first, for extra weight. On his third attempt, he’s finally able to pull the zipper shut. He grabs his backpack from the chair in the corner and shoulders it, then he hurls himself and his suitcase out of his room and hurries down the corridor, only to hurry back when he realizes he hasn’t locked the door.
“Stupid fucking annoying ass piece of shit, I fucking hate him,” he mutters when he slams the key into the lock and turns it around twice.
When he finally makes it out the backdoor of his dorm building, which leads right to the parking lot, he spots Jungkook’s car right away. Not because he knows what kind of car the idiot drives – he doesn’t care either – but because Jungkook has the headlights on and they are blinding Jimin to the point where he almost slams his suitcase into someone else’s parked vehicle while making his way across the square.
When he reaches Jungkook’s car he ignores the driver and steps around to the trunk with a huff, trying to open it.
Only the thing doesn’t budge.
“Hey, can you open the trunk?”
He tries again, rattling on the handle but it still doesn’t work.
“What the–” He fights the urge to kick the tire when walking up to the driver’s window, knocking on the glass.
He’s actually surprised when Jungkook lets the window down right away. Not surprised though at the annoyed expression the other is sporting.
“What?”
“Open the fucking trunk so I can load in my stuff.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow, the one that’s pierced.
“What’s the magic word?”
Jimin scoffs. “Open the fucking trunk so I can load in my stuff, or I’ll shove my suitcase up your ass.”
Jungkook looks unfaced, bored almost.
Jimin jolts when the car engine starts loudly, Jungkook still looking at him with a lifted eyebrow while the window rolls up slowly.
Motherfucker.
Jimin grits his teeth, and then he throws his head back with an annoyed groan.
“Oh my God, fine. Open the fucking trunk— please.”
The window stops and Jungkook flashes him a fake smile, half obscured by the glass.
“Was that so hard?”
With a click, Jimin hears the trunk opening. He just rolls his eyes and makes his way back, trying to refrain from grinding his teeth. His dentist has advised him not to do that. But his dentist also doesn’t know Jeon Jungkook. He wants to see her keeping her jaw relaxed if she had to deal with that guy.
When he slides into the passenger seat a minute later, he’s hit by the smell of that typical car air freshener scent: A mix of wood and citrus. It smells kind of good, but there’s now way in hell he’s going to let Jungkook know that.
When he shuts the door Jungkook glowers at him.
“Don’t slam it like that.”
“Huh?”
“Don’t slam the door.”
Jimin blinks.
“Car doors are supposed to be slammed.”
“They’re not.” Jungkook releases the parking brake.
Jimin huffs and fastens his seat belt, annoyance tickling the forefront of his brain like tiny little needles, another retort on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows it down. He knows Jungkook just wants to rile him up and if this goes on, Jimin might end up spending Christmas in jail because he’s already this close to committing murder and their road trip has barely even started.
For as long as he can remember, Jimin has been hating the kid who lived next door.
Not only did they live next to each other, but Jungkookie – as they called him back then – also went to the same kindergarten, the same elementary school, the same middle school and then the same high school. Basically, Jimin had to see him all day every day and from very early on Jungkook sucked all the patience out of him like a fucking vampire sucking blood.
Back then, for a while, Jungkook was rather thin and lanky, his nose too big, his face too round, and a chub to his cheeks that didn’t fit him at all. He looked weird and he was a know-it-all. And Jimin hated know-it-alls.
On top of that, Jungkook was good at all kinds of things. Better than Jimin. And Jimin hated that too.
What he by far hated the most though was the fact that Jungkook knew he was better than him. That he always wore that smug look of satisfaction whenever he caught Jimin watching him being good at stuff.
Jimin doesn’t remember when exactly it started or what started it, but for as long as he can remember he and Jungkook have been in some kind of unspoken competition with each other.
Even though he was younger than Jimin by two years, Jungkook was able to read the words in the picture books earlier than Jimin did. In elementary school, he always got stickers for his impeccable handwriting. He was a faster sprinter than Jimin, he could jump the rope a lot longer than Jimin without getting it caught in between his legs, he climbed the tree in Jimin’s garden all the way up to the top, while Jimin chickened out halfway. (Granted, Jungkook got caught and scolded for climbing that high, but the knowing grin he threw Jimin while his mother was dragging him back to their house was enough to make Jimin want to smack him over the head with his shovel.)
In kindergarten, the stuff Jungkook crafted looked better than Jimin’s, and his drawings looked better too. A couple of years later in the schoolyard, Jungkook was the quickest on the monkey bars, the one who could get the highest on the swing and then he was even brave enough to jump off.
He was a show-off and – except for Jimin – everyone admired him, thought he was cool and wanted to be his friend.
Even Jimin’s own mother seemed absolutely smitten with the annoying neighbor’s kid.
For a while, Jimin thought she was only trying to be nice because she was kind of close with Jungkook’s mother. The two of them had coffee all the time either at Jungkook’s or Jimin’s house and if they didn’t have coffee, they at least talked over the fence that separated their gardens.
But then Jimin’s mother started talking highly about Jungkook even when Junkook’s mother wasn’t present. Jungkookie got the highest score at this, Jungkookie got a trophy for that, Jungkookie was learning yet another instrument, Jungkookie started showing interest in this new sport, Jungkookie here, Jungkookie there…
Basically, Jimin learned a lot about Jungkook, despite him not caring about that stupid idiot at all.
Sometimes, Jimin and his parents were even invited over for dinner by the Jeons and Jimin never wanted to go, because every minute he had to see Jungkook's annoying face was a minute too much. But Jungkook’s father was an amazing cook and for good food, Jimin could try and ignore the idiot for a couple of hours.
They usually threw each other murderous looks over the dinner table, not talking unless they were spoken to and apparently the adults never realized the hostile atmosphere, because they just kept chatting and laughing, telling Jimin and Jungkook to go to Jungkook’s room and play video games when the two boys started wriggling in their seats impatiently after dinner was over.
Jimin hated Jungkook’s room too. Not because it was boring, it was anything but. So many games Jimin wanted to play, so many comics Jimin wanted to read… The fact that it wasn’t boring was the hard part. It was hard not to show interest.
So, usually, while Jungkook was playing games, Jimin was just sitting in a large blue bean bag in the corner with crossed arms, staring at the alarm clock on Jungkook’s bedside table, watching the minutes go by.
Jungkook never made any effort to engage with Jimin either, didn’t even acknowledge him leaving when his mother called for him from downstairs. He so obviously thought of himself as better than Jimin.
But when they got older, their dynamic changed.
They moved from staring at each other in silent resentment and being in an unspoken competition with each other, to arguing with each other over the tiniest things.
It started when Jimin was watching from the blue bean bag in the corner how Jungkook was not able to beat a boss in one of his games. After Jungkook died for the fourth time, Jimin made some kind of snorting sound that he actually intended to keep in.
Jungkook’s head whipped around immediately.
“Got something to say, dipshit?”
They started arguing. And that argument was the trigger for many more arguments to follow.
They argued about literally everything when they were left alone, all while Jimin remained sitting in that stupid blue bean bag while Jungkook sat at his desk.
They argued about how to beat bosses in games, about who the best rapper was, about pizza toppings, about Android vs. iPhone, about which anime character could beat Goku in a fight (Sailor Moon could, and nobody would ever convince Jimin otherwise), about the best McFlurry flavor…
You name it, and they would have fought about it.
When they got older, long after Jimin had stopped coming to dinner at the Jeons, the tension between them took a rather bad turn.
Jimin was already in high school and Jungkook was just about to finish middle school, when Jimin overheard his mom telling his dad that, according to Jungkook’s mom, there was an older girl Jungkook had a crush on.
In the beginning, Jimin really just wanted to find out who she was because he was curious. Who was the chick the almighty prodigy Jeon Jungkook was interested in?
He was surprised to find out that it was actually a girl from his grade. And he really just wanted to get to know her a bit because he was curious what Jungkook saw in her. She was cute, sure, but a bit boring. How did she end up catching Jungkook’s attention?
He really didn’t plan to get her to date him. He didn’t even like her that much but when she asked him if he wanted to hang out, he said yes. And when she asked him if he wanted to be her boyfriend, he said yes to that too.
One reason was that, back then, Jimin was the only one from his friend group who didn’t have a girlfriend or a first kiss yet. Another reason was that he slowly started to realize that he wasn’t interested all too much in girlfriends or first kisses in general. Or rather, he was interested in first kisses but, for some reason, not in kisses with girlfriends.
Jimin wanted to kiss a boy.
But he knew boys didn’t kiss other boys, so getting a girlfriend made him feel kind of good about himself. It proved… something. If to himself or the world he wasn’t sure.
Plus, there was that sick little voice in his head, that toxic little thought, that he really wanted to see Jungkook’s face when he found out that Jimin was dating the girl he fancied.
And Jungkook’s face was absolutely priceless.
When Jimin invited her over for the first time to meet his parents — who were oblivious to the fact that she was the one Jungkook had a crush on — he saw Jungkook watching them from his bedroom window which overlooked Jimin’s driveway.
Jimin caught him staring with narrow eyes. Eyes that narrowed even more when Jimin threw him a grin.
Admittedly, Jimin felt a bit like an asshole.
But the feeling was gone when the very same girl told him she had to break up with him a couple of months later because she fell in love with someone else.
And that someone was Jungkook. That annoying dickhead.
It wasn’t that Jimin was sad or whatever. He was fucking furious because it felt like Jungkook once again won.
By the time Jungkook entered high school, he and the girl weren’t together anymore. At some point she moved cities or whatever, Jimin didn’t care and refused to think about that entire incident any longer.
Of course, in high school, everyone admired Jungkook too. He got good grades, was good at sports and, unfortunately, he had grown out of his awkward looks and started to dress half-decent.
When he joined the soccer team, a team Jimin had already been part of, Jimin was sure he just did it to spite him.
Having them both on the same team, unsurprisingly, didn’t go well, since they couldn’t co-exist without getting into fights. They argued about everything, they tried to best each other on the field instead of working together, they threw insults at each other for every mistake they made, and soon it got to the point where they were throwing punches, rolling around in the grass with bloody lips.
They were sent to the principal's office more than once and after half a year, their coach had a long, serious talk with them about kicking them off the team if they didn’t start cooperating. After that, somehow, they were able to pull themselves together on the field. They stopped arguing and managed to work together during their games, but the murderous looks remained.
One time, they got into an argument on their way home from the bus stop and beat each other up on the playground of a nearby park after Jimin yelled something like ‘Let’s settle this once and for all’ and Jungkook replied with ‘Bring it on’.
Nothing was settled of course.
After they went home, awkwardly limping on opposite sides of the road in the very same direction, they told their worried parents they got into a fight after school but not that it was a fight with each other.
Shortly before Jimin graduated high school he noticed a change in Jungkook and how people acted around him.
The first time he noticed it was after a practice game in summer. The sky was cloudless and the sun was burning and at the final whistle, Jimin collapsed on the grass, sweating buckets. Jungkook didn’t seem to fare much better because Jimin saw his wet shirt clinging to his frame, sweat rolling down his neck when he made his way to the bench where the coolers were placed on the ground. He pulled a bottle out and brought it to his lips, gulping the water down before dousing himself with what was left.
The girls giggled.
And only then Jimin realized that all those girls, who at some point during the past few months started showing up to watch their practices, were watching because of Jungkook.
He gritted his teeth.
Not because he was jealous that those girls liked Jungkook instead of him — by that time Jimin was already pretty certain he was gay, only half a year later he would come out to his parents — but because he was sick of Jungkook constantly being praised, constantly admired, constantly getting everything he wanted even though he was nothing more than an annoying ass show-off with an arrogant attitude.
And because, yes, he could kind of see it. Objectively speaking Jungkook was, maybe, kind of hot. All sweaty like that.
Sometime after Jimin graduated high school and left his hometown for college, Jungkook was elected team captain. Jimin heard it from his mother over the phone and he was glad that he was living on the other side of the country now. Too far away to see Jungkook’s smug grin that he just knew the asshole was wearing.
For almost two years, Jimin didn’t see and didn't hear from Jungkook. The only sporadic info he got was when his mom mentioned something about him. Three or four times a year he visited home, usually for holidays and birthdays, but somehow, he managed to avoid Jungkook altogether.
He was happy, relaxed, and content. He made it into the college soccer team and found amazing teammates, who soon turned into friends. Sometimes he was pretty busy with practice and studying, but all in all, he had a fun time, even in his classes. He even had time to go out partying every now and then. By now he had come out to his parents and friends, had his first time with a guy, then his second time with a different guy, his first relationship, his first heartbreak…
He was living his college life to the fullest.
And then Jungkook moved to the city.
It was his mother once again, who mentioned that Jungkook chose a college in the same city as Jimin.
Jimin looked it up. It was the better college of course.
And funnily enough, it was Jimin’s college’s rival school. Fitting.
Before, he never cared much about the rivalry between Westside, where Jimin’s college was, and Eastside, where Jungkook went to. But now, of course, he did. Especially so, when in the very same year, their team had a “friendly” match against the Eastside’s soccer team.
And who was on that team? Jungkook. Obviously.
If you thought them being on the same team was a disaster, you can only imagine how them being on opposite teams was going.
When Jimin saw Jungkook again for the first time, it was when they shook hands on the field right before the whistle started their game. Jungkook was taller than Jimin now and kind of buff, his hair a bit longer, a piece of blue tape covering parts of his eyebrow where he, as Jimin would later find out, had a piercing now, and there was a tattoo peeking out from under his t-shirt. (Jungkook added to the tattoos later until it was a full sleeve. Not that Jimin kept track or whatever.)
Jungkook’s grip around Jimin’s hand was warm and firm and not entirely unpleasant, but the way he looked at Jimin was. With that same annoying grin, that same smug expression.
“Good luck, Park.”
Whether it was his voice or the words, or maybe the fact he called him ‘Park’ even though they’ve known each other all their lives, made the muscles in Jimin’s jaw clench.
“No luck needed, Jeon. Just skills.”
Jimin’s team won that day and Jimin enjoyed Jungkook’s glower immensely.
Even though he lost that match, Jungkook soon turned into some kind of star soccer player at his campus. He was so popular that even at Jimin’s college there was talk about him. Apparently, he was good-looking, funny, smart, openly bisexual (something Jimin was for some reason not even surprised about) and swooned over by everyone.
Yet again, it was only Jimin who saw him for the annoying asshole he really was.
When, about half a year later, Jimin’s flight was cancelled because of a snowstorm, only a day before he was going to fly out to visit his parents for Christmas, the moment Jimin’s mother mentioned over the phone that Jungkook was taking the car home because his flight was canceled too, Jimin somehow knew what was coming next.
“He’ll surely give you a ride if you ask him!”
“I’d rather walk.”
“What?” His mother sounded confused.
Jimin bit his lower lip, clutching the phone tighter. His parents still didn’t know how much he hated the neighbor’s kid and he wasn’t in the mood to explain it to them.
“Nothing, it’s just— I don’t wanna inconvenience him.”
“Don’t be silly! I’ll talk to his mother about it!”
And so, pushed into it by both of their moms, Jimin and Jungkook were forced to share a car for a 10-hour ride to their hometown.
One hour into the trip Jimin is already this close to jumping out of the moving car.
From “Don’t eat in my car, you’ll get it dirty” (what the fuck?) over “Don’t slam the door” (fuck off) to “Don’t put your feet on my console” (fair enough).
“Stop littering.”
Jimin groans at Jungkook’s words. He has just dropped the wrapping of the sandwich he finished — albeit Jungkook’s constant complaints about not eating in the car – between his feet.
“Calm down, I’ll throw it out at the next rest stop.” He crosses his arms (after covertly flicking a breadcrumb off his thigh, shooting it into the depths of the foot area as well — Jungkook doesn’t need to know about that one).
“There’s probably mayonnaise and shit all over the wrapping, keep it in your fucking hands!”
“Oh my fucking God— you’re so fucking annoying,” Jimin groans, rubbing his face. After a deep dramatic sigh he turns to look at Jungkook. “Do you know that old movie Weekend at Bernie’s?”
Jungkook frowns and stares straight ahead, not acknowledging Jimin’s question. So Jimin goes on.
“That’s what I want. I want to feel like I’m taking a road trip with a dead guy. A quiet dead guy. Understood?”
Jungkook is still frowning, still not looking at him. “Dead guys can’t drive.”
“And they can’t talk. So shut up.”
“Shouldn’t you be more grateful, Park? I’m giving you this ride home out of the goodness of my heart.”
“You’re giving me this ride because your mother told you so.”
Jungkook doesn’t say anything to that, just rolls his eyes and Jimin takes the silence as him winning the argument. He leans back with a satisfied grin, leaving the wrapping on the floor.
Another hour later — an hour which they spent in complete and utter silence, except for Jungkook’s Spotify playlist blaring from the speakers (his taste in music is awful, obviously) — Jimin has to pee.
“I have to pee.”
No reaction.
“I have to pee.”
Still nothing. Jungkook ignores him, leaning back in his seat comfortably, his hands holding the steering wheel in a relaxed manner. Jimin must admit, Jungkook’s hands are distractingly attractive. His fingers are long, nails neatly trimmed, the veins on the back of his hand standing out a bit when he grips the wheel a bit tighter...
Jimin hates that he finds Jungkook’s hands attractive. Especially because they’re definitely better than his own hands, which are rather small with short fingers.
Jimin huffs.
“Is this about the dead guy thing?” When there is still no answer he goes on. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? But if you don’t want me to piss right next to that wrapping paper down there, you better get me to a rest stop within the next five minutes.”
Jungkook doesn't get him to a rest stop within the next five minutes. Instead, he makes a show out of slowing down whenever there is a rest stop sign in sight, only to pass the entrance with a smug grin, keeping on driving.
Jimin is livid, cursing Jungkook under his breath and when they reach the 30-minute mark, he starts squirming in his seat, pressing his thighs together at the uncomfortable feeling.
“One day, I’m going to kill you,” he hisses.
Jungkook ignores him once again and that’s when Jimin breaks. With an almost animalistic cry, he grabs the sandwich wrapping from the floor and throws it right into Jungkook’s face. It smacks the other’s cheek, who yelps at the contact, the car swerving a bit to the side before he looks at Jimin incredulously. There is a spot of mayonnaise on his cheekbone.
“You did not just do that.”
Jimin glares at him, grabs the wrapping from where it landed between their seats and throws it at Jungkook again. This time, the other is able to dodge it and it bounces off the window glass, rolling into Jungkook’s foot area.
“What the– Stop it!”
“Then get me to a fucking restroom!”
“Oh my God, fine, calm down.”
When they finally arrive at the rest stop parking lot, Jimin throws the car door open, almost hitting the car that’s parked next to them.
“Hey, careful!”
“Shut up,” Jimin hisses. After all, it’s Jungkook’s fault that he’s in such a hurry. He grabs his wallet since there’s a café sign plastered all over the front of the stop and he wants to get more snacks, then he gets out of the car. Cold winter air hits him and he hisses, grabbing the scarf that he threw on the console earlier when Jungkook turned on the heating.
“Bring me a coffee,” Jungkook demands from his seat.
“Excuse me?” Jimin looks at him with a loud scoff. “Get your shit yourself.”
“I’m driving you across the fucking country, Park. If you don’t want me to leave you behind here, get me a fucking coffee.”
Jimin grits his teeth, he doesn't have time for that, his bladder is literally about to explode.
“Fine, whatever.”
Before he can turn around Jungkook speaks up again.
“With almond milk. I’m lactose-intolerant.”
It seems Jungkook realizes what he’s done the moment he’s said it. He stares at Jimin with his mouth agape, worry flickering across his face for a brief moment. Even Jimin can’t believe that Jungkook let that kind of sensitive information slip and stares back at him with his mouth standing equally wide open.
But now… now it’s in Jimin’s hands. The knowledge of how to make Jungkook’s life hell. And suddenly, his bladder can wait.
“Oh, really?” He chirps. “Lactose-intolerant?”
Jungkook’s eyes narrow, his expression deadly.
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses.
“I’m not daring anything,” Jimin shrugs. “Just giving you a warning that if you annoy me any more, I might slip up and accidentally order whole milk.”
He smiles sweetly and Jungkook grimaces.
“So you better be nice to me,” Jimin singsongs, feeling jubilant.
Jungkook, unfortunately, collects himself rather quickly. He crosses his arms, the movement making his muscles bulge in all the right places and Jimin fucking hates it.
“You know who would suffer from that almost as much?” He asks with an almost bored expression. “The person who has to share a car with me.”
Jimin snorts but the jubilant feeling is gone because Jungkook is kind of right.
“Whatever,” he says as he slams the door shut and turns to leave.
“Don’t slam the fucking door!” Jungkook’s voice reaches him through the open window which he must’ve rolled down specifically to shout at him.
Jimin just holds up his middle finger. Until something hits the back of his head.
He whips around, just in time to see the sandwich wrapping fall to the ground.
“And take your trash with you,” Jungkook says, before rolling the window back up.
Jimin huffs, hot annoyance bubbling inside of him. He picks the wrapping up anyway.
When Jimin gets back to the parking lot, bladder empty and arms full of snacks and coffee, he’s relieved to see that Jungkook is still there. He honestly wouldn’t have been surprised if the asshole would’ve left him behind after all.
He slides in the passenger seat, ignoring Jungkook’s scowl at the sight of all the snacks. He grabs the paper cup of coffee from Jimin’s hand and peels the lid off to take a peek inside, smelling it warily. He throws Jimin a look, then takes a sip, smacking his lips as if he’s at a wine-tasting event. When he’s apparently sure that it’s really almond milk he closes the lid again, placing the cup in the designated cup holder between their seats.
“Is it to your liking, your highness?” Jimin snorts while storing his snacks in his backpack. “That’s five bucks, by the way.”
Jungkook’s eyes go big. “Five? For that mediocre shit?”
“It’s a highway rest stop, what did you expect?”
Jungkook grumbles something but fishes for his wallet and pushes the bill into Jimin's waiting hand.
Then they take off again.
Jimin doesn’t know how exactly it happened. Probably when Jungkook reaches for his cup of coffee for the first time after they’ve left the rest stop. Jimin sees the movement from the corner of his eye and follows it, catches the way Jungkook’s annoyingly perfect fingers encircle the cup, the way the edge with the opening in the lid is pushed between his lips, the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he drinks, the smooth drag of his tongue to collect a drop of coffee that has spilt over…
Suddenly, Jimin feels weirdly flustered and hot.
“What?”
He jolts in his seat, tearing his eyes from Jungkook’s lips to look at him.
“What what?” He blinks.
Jungkook frowns. “Why are you staring at me?”
“I– nothing— I was just wondering, umm—” Jimin looks around, frantically searching for an excuse, his gaze falling into his lap, where an unopened bag of caramel-covered mini pretzels lies that he was about to open just before he got weirdly distracted.
“Do you want some?” He asks, holding the bag up. His cheeks feel glowing hot.
Jungkook looks at him as if he has lost his mind.
“Not gonna put that shit in my body.”
Jimin scoffs and is just about to rip the bag with caramel pretzels open when he realizes that, while he has been snacking on something nonstop for the past three hours, Jungkook hasn’t had anything yet, except for some water and now coffee.
“Aren’t you gonna eat?”
“Hm?” Jungkook looks at him, before turning to look back on the road. “Later. I had breakfast this morning.”
Jimin gawks. “Before you picked me up?”
“Yep.”
“You had breakfast in the middle of the night?!”
Jungkook frowns. “I had breakfast at 6, after my run.”
Jimin gawks again. “You went on a run before picking me up?!”
“Yes?” Jungkook sounds defensive. “Why?”
“I– Well, I don’t— I just think that’s pretty early to do anything—” Jimin trails off.
He watches as Jungkook just shrugs, takes in the way his muscles move under his tight shirt – he took his sweater off while Jimin was gone – as he places the cup down between them, takes in his thighs, thick, hugged by gray sweatpants and suddenly he realizes something he never realized before.
Or maybe he has realized it but never really acknowledged it.
Jungkook looking the way he does, going from scrawny teenager to this, Jungkook being as good as he is at everything… all that is the result of all the hard work Jungkook is putting into his life.
Jungkook was never some kind of prodigy. He never was a wonder child, he never got lucky.
Jungkook was hardworking.
Jimin hates that he finds it admirable. He finds it admirable that Jungkook puts effort into achieving goals, that Jungkook is determined, interested in new things, organized, dedicated…
It makes Jimin jealous.
He eyes the bag of pretzels in his lap.
Jungkook probably came prepared, probably did a whole night of meal-prep before they left, probably had containers full of grilled vegetables and meat in his backpack, maybe also a protein bar or two.
Jimin huffs and throws the back of pretzels on the console.
“You’re such a kill-joy,” he grumbles.
Jungkook looks offended. “What the hell did I do now?!”
Jimin just rolls his eyes. He’s in a bad mood now. Even worse than before.
And what’s totally not helping is the annoying song that’s currently blasting.
“We’re listening to that song for the tenth time now,” he says and leans forward, pressing the button to skip to the next one.
“I like that song, turn it back on.”
“It’s bad.”
It’s not really bad, just not Jimin’s vibe, but Jungkook doesn’t need to know that and the way the younger’s head whips around before he stares Jimin down with that familiar look of murderous annoyance makes Jimin feel a bit better.
Their next stop is at a gas station about an hour later, to refuel.
While Jungkook is standing between the car and the fuel pump, holding the nozzle, going off about how Jimin obviously has to pay half the gas money, Jimin ignores him, doing some stretches on the sidewalk. His neck and lower back are already stiff, and his legs are numb from sitting so much.
He brings his arm over his head, bending to the side, changing directions after a while. Then he squats down, letting his knees crack, before standing up tall and rolling his neck. Then he bends forward, touching his toes with his fingertips.
On good days he can put his whole palm on the ground, but right now his muscles are too tight.
He groans, holding the position for a moment, trying to ease himself lower, feeling the stretch in his hamstrings.
Only when he comes back up does he realize that Jungkook’s ranting has stopped.
When he turns to look at him the other is staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips.
Geez, what’s his problem now?
“What?”
Jungkook clamps his mouth shut at the question, tearing his gaze away.
“Nothing,” he mumbles, pulling the pump out of his car, and hooking it back on the machine. There is a hue of red on his cheeks.
Probably from the cold.
After paying – and Jimin giving Jungkook half the money because no way in hell does he want to be indebted to that dickhead – they take off again.
“Put your seatbelt on,” Jungkook says when he starts the car.
“Yeah yeah,” Jimin mumbles, leaning down, rummaging around his backpack in search of his water bottle.
The car gets moving and by the time he has found and pulled out his water, they’re already almost out of the parking lot.
At the unfortunate timing of him opening the bottle, the car suddenly does a jolt as Jungkook slams the brakes. Jimin flies forward from the force but before he smashes face-first into the console, a little “oof”-sound leaves his throat as he’s stopped by something hard against his chest. Something that pushes him back into his seat.
It takes him a moment to realize it’s Jungkook’s extended arm.
Jimin’s heart is thundering wildly in his chest from the sudden surge of adrenaline, water dripping all over his hand that’s still clutching the plastic bottle.
He eyes the red car that apparently cut in front of them only a few seconds ago, the one which made Jungkook slam the brakes like that. When he turns to look at Jungkook, ready to stammer out a thank you, the other is up in his face right away.
“Didn’t I tell you to put your fucking seatbelt on?!” He barks.
Jimin’s pulse is racing, the warmth of Jungkook’s strong arm pressing against his chest seeping through the fabric of his shirt and spreading on his skin, mixing with the flush that’s forming all over his face and neck. The flush which he has no idea where it’s coming from.
Out of pure habit, he gets defensive right away.
“I— You could’ve waited-”
Suddenly he’s being grabbed by the front of his shirt and yanked forward, Jungkook’s face so close now, that Jimin can feel his warm breath on his face when he speaks up again.
“Put. Your. Seatbelt. On.”
Jimin swallows thickly.
“Okay,” he rasps.
Jungkook blinks as if he didn’t expect him to actually comply.
Then his eyes flicker to Jimin’s lips.
It’s only for a heartbeat, only a fleeting gaze, but it’s definitely there and Jimin’s throat goes dry.
When Jungkook huffs and sits back, Jimin scrambles to twist the bottle cap on and then buckles himself up with wet and shaky fingers.
The next two hours go exactly like the ones before.
Jimin and Jungkook either argue about something, stare out of the window in tense silence, or have a silent war every now and then over the skip buttons of the car’s music system, pushing each other’s hands out of the way while trying to get to a certain song.
Jungkook’s GPS has just navigated them off the highway and onto a rather empty country road, the fields on either side of them covered in snow, and Jimin is just typing a message to his mom, updating her on the progress of their journey and the fact that – because of traffic – it’ll take them a bit longer than expected, when a weird screeching noise makes them both perk up.
“What-”
Jungkook doesn’t get to finish.
Suddenly a loud bang, clearly coming from the engine, makes the car jerk and Jungkook slams the brakes with a curse just as the car dies down, letting it roll slowly into the snow on the side of the road until they come to a standstill.
Jimin blinks. “What just happened?”
That’s when he catches sight of the smoke that emerges from the hood of the car.
“Shit,” Jungkook swears and unbuckles his seatbelt, pushing the driver's door open after making sure there is no car coming down the road, before getting out.
By the time Jimin steps out of the car, the hood is already open, Jungkook staring inside the engine compartment with a deep frown.
“What’s wrong with it?” Jimin asks, slamming his car door shut.
“Don’t slam the door. And how the fuck should I know?”
“Huh?!”
Jungkook looks at him as if he’s dumb.
“Do I look like I know shit about cars?”
Jimin huffs, his warm breath forming white curls of fog in the cold air, and crosses his arms.
“Well from the way you’re posing in front of that open hood like Mr. Mechanic himself, with your hands on your hips and all, it kinda looked like it.”
“Well, I don’t.”
“Great.” Jimin rolls his eyes. Of course, Jungkook is of no help. “What now?”
Jungkook turns back to look inside the open hood, crossing his arms now too and Jimin can tell he’s cold, can see the goosebumps rising on the naked skin of his bare arms, can see the way his nose is turning a little red, while he worries his lower lip, apparently deep in thought. Jimin follows his line of sight, eyes catching on the trail of smoke that’s still coming out of the engine and not letting up.
He takes a step back.
“Shouldn’t we— like, get to safety?”
The other looks at him. “Safety?”
“What if it explodes?”
Jungkook scoffs. “It’s not gonna explode.”
He looks a bit concerned now though and takes a step back himself. Then he pulls his phone from his pocket with a huff.
“I’m calling breakdown assistance,” he mumbles.
Jimin wants to say something about him finally being useful for once, but Jungkook already brings his phone up to his ear and Jimin decides to wait inside the car, since he too is starting to get cold.
After sinking back into his seat, pulling the door shut, he texts his mom to keep her updated on the current events, letting her know that it might get a lot later than expected. After he’s done, he checks the weather and groans in annoyance when he sees that the last remnants of the snowstorm that got their flights canceled is heading their way.
He jumps in his seat when the door on the other side is pulled open a while later and Jungkook slides into the driver’s seat, cold air streaming in alongside him. Jimin opens his mouth to complain, but Jungkook pulls the door shut right away.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“What did they say?!”
Jungkook crosses his arms and stares out the front window, annoyance oozing off of him in waves that are almost visible.
“They’ll be here to tow us to the next repair shop in about 30 minutes. I already called the shop too, to let them know we’re coming.”
“Okay,” Jimin nods. “That’s good. Will they be able to have a look at it right away?”
“Nope.” Jungkook’s leg bounces. “They won’t be able to look at it before tomorrow.”
Jimin stares at him.
“What?”
Jungkook rolls his eyes. “You heard me. We won’t have the car back until noon tomorrow.”
Jimin groans and rubs the space between his eyebrows where a dull pain is forming.
Tomorrow is Christmas Eve. He wanted to be with his parents by then.
He does the math in his head. If they get back on the road tomorrow at noon, they will probably arrive in the late evening, so there will be at least enough time to spend dinner with them.
“We could hitchhike,” Jungkook interrupts his thoughts.
Jimin frowns. “Why would we do that?”
“To be home in time of course.”
“I– no!”
“Why not?!”
Jimin stares at him, his mouth open. Has that idiot not watched a single horror movie in his life?
“I– Wow,” he deadpans and brings his hands up, making grabbing and flexing motions with his fingers. “I kinda wanna juice your brain like a lemon to see more of the dumb thoughts inside. Do you wanna get murdered?!”
For a moment, Jungkook is very much frozen in place, then he frowns.
“Well, what’s your solution then, smartass?”
“Ask the repair guys to give us a ride to the next town and look for a hotel there.”
“A hotel?! I don’t know about you but I don’t have random money sitting in my bank account, waiting to be spent on unnecessary hotel stays. Especially after my fucking car just broke down!”
“I’m sure our parents will help us out!”
“I’m not gonna ask my parents for money!”
“Well, you hitchhike then and get killed and left to rot in the snow, disemboweled and covered in blood. I will stay in a warm and cozy hotel. I don’t know if you have checked the weather yet, but there is a snow storm heading our way too. So good luck on the road.”
Jungkook doesn’t retort anything to that, he just groans and slumps back in his seat.
It’s silent for a while, before he opens his mouth again.
“Fucking fine, a hotel then. But it better be a cheap one!”
After getting towed to the nearest garage and spending almost an hour there, getting everything settled and assured that they will have the car back by tomorrow at noon latest, they call their parents to let them know about their predicament.
Of course, just as Jimin thought, they offer to transfer them the money for their night at the hotel right away.
The town they’re in is not as small as Jimin originally thought. There even is a shopping street, which is full of people rushing from store to store, searching for last minute Christmas gifts, the shop windows being illuminated by Christmas lights, and the many cafés and restaurants looking warm and cozy from the outside.
The snow is already starting to fall and the wind is picking up, so Jimin pushes them to hurry in finding a hotel.
They find one.
The last available one in town.
It’s not exactly as cheap as Jungkook would’ve wanted – as the other loudly proclaims shortly before they enter the lobby – but turns out they don’t really have to worry about that anyway. Turns out they’ll split the cost.
Split the cost because the hotel – of fucking course – only has one vacant room left.
Jimin will have to share a fucking room with Jeon Jungkook for a night.
He groans inwardly when he pays and Jungkook doesn’t look happy about it either, glowering when he hands the woman at the reception desk his half of the money.
They both don’t say a word when they ride the elevator up to their floor, their suitcases forming a thick barrier between them on the ground. Neither do they talk after stepping out and walking down the corridor.
Only when they reach their room with the number 58, Jimin can’t hold back his anger any longer.
“This is just great,” he mutters, bringing the key card up to unlock the door. “First the flight, then that whole disaster of a car ride and now I have to share a fucking room with you.”
“The hotel was your idea,” Jungkook grumbles.
Jimin ignores him. "Could this get any worse?!"
The door swings open and they stand on the threshold in frozen silence, staring at the bed in the middle of the room.
One bed.
No fucking way.
“I can’t do this,” Jimin blurts.
Jungkook huffs and rolls his eyes.
"Calm down, dipshit. It's two beds pushed together, we can easily move them."
Easily is a bit of an overstatement, but after five minutes of grunting and sweating, they've managed to push the heavy beds apart and to opposite sides of the room, as far away from one another as possible.
By now it’s late in the afternoon. If everything would’ve gone according to plan, they would be home in about two hours. Instead, they’re stuck here.
Jimin sinks down on his bed with a sigh. From the corner of his eyes he sees Jungkook rummaging through his suitcase until he pulls out a scarf.
“I’m going out,” the other announces, wrapping the scarf around his neck, before grabbing his jacket.
“Where to?”
Jungkook glowers at him. “That’s none of your business.”
Jimin rolls his eyes. “Not like I care anyway,” he mutters.
Jungkook has been gone for over an hour now but Jimin doesn’t care. He takes a long shower and then relaxes on his bed for a while, scrolling through social media.
His fingers twitch when he sees that Jungkook has posted a new Instagram story and he really wants to know what he’s up to, but he keeps himself from clicking it. He doesn’t want to give the asshole the satisfaction of seeing Jimin’s account in the list of viewers.
When, after a while, his stomach starts growling and rumbling, he decides to go out as well.
Even though it’s already quite late and during the week, the city center is still bustling with people. It’s holiday season after all and most people are off work for the next couple of days.
Surprisingly, the wind has calmed down already. The Christmas lights are glowing everywhere and paired with the light snow falling from the sky, it looks nothing but absolutely magical.
Jimin has his hood pulled up to keep the snow from getting into his eyes, on his hunt for something to eat. After a while, he comes across a bar that seems to serve food as well and even though he knows that the food will most likely be merely mediocre, he steps inside, so hungry that he’s on the verge of passing out.
He orders a plate of sandwiches and fries and when his belly is full, a glass of whiskey sour.
He really needs some alcohol after this shitty day.
Jimin didn’t intend to get this drunk.
But after his first round of whiskey sour, he orders a second one. After that he gets a beer and at the first sip his mood has long lifted, his leg bouncing to the beat of the low music coming from two small speakers on the ceiling.
He’d really love to dance right now.
The thing about Jimin is, once he has the right amount of alcohol in his system, he gets ridiculously sociable.
Soon enough, he has made friends with all kinds of people in the bar. The bartender, who is apparently a college student too and working night shifts to earn some money on the side, two old ladies who have been best friends for over 50 years, and a group of old bikers who challenge him to a game of dart, which he loses tragically but has good fun while doing so.
When the itch to move his feet and dance gets too much, he asks the bartender if there is a club around. Usually, he wouldn’t do stuff like this. Go out to bars alone, let alone go clubbing alone… but his day was shit and there is a pleasant buzz in his head and a tingle in his legs.
He doesn’t know how late it is exactly when he walks out of the bar and down the street where he was told the town’s only club is located, but it’s significantly quieter now with a lot less people around.
He’s not surprised when he finds no line in front of the club, nor when the bouncer waves him through right away, even though he’s wearing a pretty old pair of jeans and sneakers and a basic black long sleeve shirt under his open winter jacket. It’s a pretty small town after all, he didn’t expect this club to have high standards.
He is pretty surprised though when he, after paying the entrance fee and getting rid of his jacket at the coat-check, steps down a flight of stairs and finds himself in a club that’s decently crowded. He’s immediately surrounded by people, by loud music and flickering lights. The fragrance of several different perfumes lingers in the air, mixing with the smell of beer and sugary cocktails. While he weaves his way through groups of people laughing and drinking, making his way to the bar, he takes in the interior in the dim light. It’s pretty basic but surprisingly classy and when he has finally reached the bar, he’s yet again surprised at the selection of alcohol displayed behind the brunette bartender who’s smiling at him widely.
“Hi! What can I get you?” He asks over the music.
Jimin smiles back. “Can I get a Gin Tonic?”
“Coming right up,” the other says, grabbing a bottle of Gin from the shelf behind him, starting to prepare his drink. While Jimin sits down on one of the barstools, he speaks up again.
“I’ve never seen you here before, did you move to town recently?”
“Ah, no, you could say I’m only in transit. Our car broke down not far from here and we can’t get it back until tomorrow.”
“Oh,” the guy laughs. “Sorry to hear that, this isn’t the most interesting place to get stuck.”
Jimin chuckles and takes the drink that’s placed in front of him.
“It’s not that bad.”
After taking a sip, he rummages in his pocket for money but the guy shakes his head.
“No need, this one is on me.”
“Oh, I can’t accept that, that-”
“Well, why don’t you tell me more about yourself in exchange?” The guy smiles again and Jimin notices it looks kind of… boxy? He leans on the counter with both of his hands. “Most of the time I’m pretty bored here, I love meeting new people!”
Jimin laughs. “Alright.”
As expected, when he starts telling the guy – whose name he didn’t catch – more about himself, his story soon turns into a rant about Jungkook. With his alcohol induced mind he remembers all the shit that’s been happening not only today and gets himself worked up over it in no time.
“...and then he arrives half an hour early and has the nerve to tell me he’s gonna leave without me if I’m not out in 10 minutes!” He seethes.
“Oh? That’s annoying.”
“I know right?! He is annoying! And absolutely insane! He told me he went on a run and had breakfast before picking me up!”
The bartender's eyes go wide. “No way! That means he had to get up in the middle of the night!”
“Exactly!” Jimin waves his hands around. “Absolutely insane!”
“You said you’re both playing soccer? But his fitness is probably on a whole other level.”
Jimin lets his hand sink and frowns.
“You don’t have to say it like that,” he pouts.
The other chuckles and opens his mouth, but before he can say anything his eyes land on someone behind Jimin and he straightens his back with a smile.
“Hi, what can I get you?”
“A beer please,” an all too familiar voice says.
Parts of the drink Jimin was just sipping fly into his windpipe when he gasps and he starts coughing violently, swiveling around on his stool.
“What the hell are you doing here?!”
Jungkook is wearing a black button-up and black jeans. He’s dressed significantly better than Jimin, probably went back to their hotel room and got changed before coming here. His gaze lands on Jimin and for a split second he looks surprised, then his left eye twitches in annoyance.
“I could ask you the same.”
Jimin wipes the spilled drink from his chin.
“I wanted to wind down after this god-awful day with you.”
Jungkook snorts. “Same here.”
“Ah, the infamous travel buddy,” the bartender says as he hands Jungkook a bottle of beer.
“Infamous?”
The guy grins. “Yep.” He says, making the last letter pop. “I heard a lot about you.”
“Shut up,” Jimin hisses under his breath.
“Oh?” Jungkook lifts an eyebrow and looks at Jimin. “You talk about me with complete strangers?”
“What do you mean, strangers? Maybe I know the guy?”
“Oh really? What’s his name?”
“Uh… Lucas.”
“I’m Taehyung.”
Jimin shoots the bartender - Taehyung - a murderous look for throwing him under the bus like that but the other only keeps smiling.
Traitor.
Jimin’s gaze wanders back to Jungkook, whose eyebrows are still lifted.
“Well, what can I say,” Jimin continues and shrugs. “You’re just so annoying.”
Jungkook scoffs.
“You’re one to talk,” he mumbles. Then he turns around to leave, but that’s when Taehyung looks him up and down, leaning over the counter while doing so, resting his chin on his palm.
“To be honest, I imagined something else when you said ‘impotent airhead’.”
The second time tonight Jimin chokes.
Jungkook turns around slowly to glare at him.
“You said what about me?”
Jimin sniffs, raising his chin. “I said you’re an impotent airhead. Among other things.”
Jungkook takes a step closer, the grip around his bottle tight.
“And why exactly would you think I’m impotent, Park?”
Jimin barks out a laugh.
“Did I hit a nerve, Jeon?”
The beer probably isn’t Jungkook’s first drink, he seems a bit drunk already, judging from the way he enters Jimin’s space, looking down at him with a set jaw and a frown. Jimin knows his temper well and sober the other wouldn’t be this easy to rile up.
“Fuck off.”
Jimin grinds his teeth and he feels his own body tensing when Jungkook gives his shoulder a hard shove, obviously to provoke him. And unfortunately for Jimin it works. There’s just enough alcohol in his system to fuel the anger bubbling up in his gut and turning it into a roaring fire within the blink of an eye.
He’s up on his feet and in Jungkook’s face within a heartbeat, grabbing him by his collar.
“Try that again, I dare you.”
With his free hand Jungkook grabs his collar in turn, yanking him closer.
“What are you gonna do, huh?”
“Now, now, guys,” a voice says from their side and they both turn to look at Taehyung. “No brawling inside the club, I’m afraid I have to ask you to leave.”
“Leave?!” Jimin and Jungkook blurt simultaneously, letting go of each other. Jimin slumps back on his barstool. Damn, he was just starting to have fun and of course Jungkook would be the one to ruin it.
“Yep. There are no exceptions.”
Jungkook glares at Jimin. “Great. Now look what you’ve done!”
“What I’ve done?! You shoved me first!”
“Because you called me impotent!”
“I also called you an airhead, why are you so focused on the impotent part, Jeon, hm?”
“I’m going to fucking kill you!”
“I could be swayed to let it slide,” Taehyung interrupts them again, tapping his chin with his index finger as if he’s deeply in thought. Then he holds the finger up in front of them. “Under one condition.”
“And what would that be?” Jungkook asks between clenched teeth. His fingers are almost white with how hard he’s clutching the bottle and Jimin is legitimately scared he might shatter it.
“I want each of you to say at least two nice things about the other,” Taehyung chirps, resting his chin on his palm.
“Huh?!”
“I’m sure you can think of something.” Taehyung’s eyes travel between them and he’s still smiling, but there is a smug little edge to it, as if this is nothing but great entertainment to him. Probably because it is. He told Jimin that he’s usually pretty bored here, so to him this is most likely a pretty fun pastime.
For Jimin though it’s a nightmare.
Saying something nice about Jeon Jungkook? Never! He’d rather leave.
His face gets hot with a mix of embarrassment and anger.
There isn’t anything nice about that asshole. Nothing at all.
Except for that he’s determined and hardworking. That his hands are disturbingly beautiful and his face isn’t too bad either. And Jimin of course knows about all the voluntary work he’s involved with at college, because his mother never shuts up about it, so he guesses that’s a nice trait too.
The heat in his cheeks increases when he realizes that, shit, there are actually nice things he could say about Jungkook.
But he’s never going to. Not in a million years.
“Nope,” Jungkook’s voice interrupts Jimin’s thoughts. “Nothing I can think of.”
His cheeks are just as red as Jimin’s feel and he’s not meeting his eyes when Jimin looks up at him.
“Same,” Jimin rasps.
“Well, how unfortunate for you that you have to come up with something, though.” Taehyung sighs with a fake pout, his eyes wandering back and forth between them.
“Who the hell are you to tell us what we have to do?”
“The bartender who’ll kick you out otherwise.”
Jungkook slams his bottle on the countertop.
“Fine, I’m leaving.”
And with that he disappears between the groups of people scattered around and is gone.
Jimin doesn’t leave and Taehyung doesn’t make him.
They keep chatting for a while, until Jimin finishes his drink, and then another one.
All the drinking, however, doesn't make the nagging mix of anger, annoyance and uncertainty disappear, that the surprise encounter with Jungkook has stirred. Which is why he decides to finally hit the dance floor a while later to shake the tension off.
He makes his way around people, passes the doors to the restrooms, and steps past a second bar – smaller than the first one – which is followed by a rather large seating area, scattered with black chairs and equally black sofas.
The moment he steps on the dancefloor, the music hits him in a completely different way. It’s like a rush of hot air that takes his breath away. It feels electric, the rhythmic beat pulsing and vibrating through his body as he begins to move, the flashing lights blinding him.
He’s undoubtedly drunk by now, his whole body tingling as he closes his eyes, as he lets the music take over, moving to the beat, his hands sliding up his body, over his stomach and chest, brushing his neck. He sways his hips, carried by the beats, his head pleasantly buzzing, his heart beating lively as the stress from the day finally slips from him completely.
He’s not sure how long he’s been dancing for when he suddenly starts feeling eyes on him.
Jimin knows he is a good dancer. He knows others tend to think so too, so he’s kind of used to being watched on dancefloors. This time however, it feels slightly different. More intense for some reason.
He blinks against the flashing lights, gaze wandering around the room, searching for whoever is observing him.
Just when he thinks that he must’ve imagined it, something – or rather someone – catches his eye. His already mushy brain stumbles to a halt.
Jungkook is sitting on one of the black sofas in the seating area, his legs spread, elbows resting on his thighs, holding a cup in his hand. Even though he’s partly obscured by the dancing people between them, Jimin can clearly see that his eyes are fixated on him. They narrow when he catches Jimin looking, but he doesn’t avert them.
Jimin’s heartbeat is speeding up, a weird type of nervousness surging through him. He swallows thickly.
Again: He knows he’s a good dancer. And now he wonders if Jungkook thinks so too, if that’s why he’s watching.
Somehow, it excites him. The idea of Jungkook finding something admirable about him.
The other’s gaze wanders from Jimin’s face down to his feet and then up again, slowly, pausing on his waist – where Jimin’s belt is hugging his skinny jeans over his tight shirt – for a lot longer than necessary. So long that Jimin is sure Jungkook is drunk as well. He can see it in the way his lips part too when their eyes meet again, the way he does look at Jimin almost admiringly, or at least not hostile. Not hostile at all. Sober Jungkook would never look at Jimin like this. Sober Jungkook looks at Jimin with heat in his eyes that speaks of anger and aggression, but now? This heat in his eyes is different, a bit softer, a bit darker.
Jimin is no idiot, he can tell Jungkook is checking him out. He knows the other is bi, it’s no secret on neither his nor Jungkook’s campus, where everyone swoons over him, guys and girls alike. Everyone admires him, either wants to be him or wants to be with him.
But right now, he’s checking Jimin out.
Jimin inhales deeply and holds eye contact as he gets back to moving his body, sways his hips, tries his best to not get distracted from the music by the other’s gaze, but it’s burning into him so hot that he starts sweating. It seems as if a weird type of electricity is arching between them, something invisible but still tangible, the air sizzling as they have only eyes for each other in a room full of people.
It’s the alcohol, it must be, that makes Jimin sway his hips in a more sensual way, his hands moving over his own body more suggestively.
He doesn’t know what he expected but he does not expect Jungkook to lick his lips.
Jimin’s breath catches as the pink tongue darts out and he almost chokes on the air he inhales when Jungkook suddenly, without any warning, stands up from the sofa.
Jimin was right, the other is clearly drunk as well. He’s swaying slightly when he makes his way over to Jimin, the cup with whatever he was drinking being disposed of on one of the high tables he passes.
By the time he comes to a halt directly in front of Jimin, Jimin has stopped moving all together, his heart racing violently. He has to crane his neck a little to look up at Jungkook, and Jungkook’s eyes are dark as he looks down at him, his cheeks slightly red.
“You’re still here,” Jimin mutters and he doesn’t know why but somehow, he takes a step forward.
“How very observant of you,” Jungkook simply says and Jimin looks down to where he feels the pull of Jungkook’s fingers tugging slightly on his shirt, which is kind of a weird thing to do but he doesn’t question it any further.
When he looks up again, Jungkook’s cheeks seem even redder.
“I should go and tell Taehyung,” Jimin says.
“Why? I’m not the only one whom he asked to leave. And you’re still here too.”
Then, with one swift movement and without another word, he’s suddenly behind Jimin.
A surprised hitch of breath slips from Jimin’s throat when two large hands slide down to his waist, the press of palms warm against his skin even through his shirt, and then he’s pulled back until his butt meets Jungkook’s hips and his shoulder blades his chest.
They start swaying to the beat of the music and Jimin struggles to keep up with what’s happening. Everything feels surreal and he’s so hot, he’s sure his face and ears are glowing red right now. He’s glad it’s dark in here because he gets even hotter when Jungkook presses even closer, guiding his hips.
It takes a moment for Jimin to finally awake from his stupor and do what feels natural to him: moving himself, rolling his hips back against Jungkook’s.
He feels dizzy, pulse hammering fast inside his throat.
For a while they keep moving against each other, in perfect rhythm, and Jimin is overly aware of every part of his body that’s touching Jungkook’s, of his hot breath in his hair, of the scent of his cologne surrounding him…
At a particularly hard roll of hips, Jungkook’s grip on Jimin’s waist tightens and Jimin sucks his lower lip between his teeth at the feeling because he knows what it means and he doesn’t want to think about it but can’t stop thinking about it at the same time. He rolls his hips back again, even harder this time, and now he can feel Jungkook’s breath stutter in his hair. He feels a mix of victory and utter terror. Terrified by the power he possesses right now and terrified by the knowledge that Jeon Jungkook is turned on by dancing with him.
When he rubs his ass against Jungkook’s crotch a third time, Jungkook’s breath is suddenly at his ear, tickling and hot. At another roll of hips he feels Jungkook’s lips graze the top of his ear fleetingly, one of his hands moving from his waist over his stomach, making Jimin’s abs tense, and then up to his ribcage, where he brushes Jimin’s nipple over his shirt for the fraction of a second – whether by accident or not, Jimin doesn’t know, but it makes something hot surge through is body. He swallows down a gasp when warm fingers graze his throat, wandering further upwards until they grab him by his chin.
When Jungkook forces him to tilt his head to the side it’s not rough or anything. It’s careful, questioningly almost, and Jimin complies.
It must be the alcohol, he decides again. Curiosity maybe, or maybe a sick type of desire for chaos and destruction. Why else would he tilt his head a little? Why else would he bare the side of his throat? Why else would he let Jeon Jungkook of all people bury his face there?
When he feels Jungkook’s hot breath on his skin, Jimin knows what’s gonna happen. Or maybe he just hopes for it.
His first thought is that he will probably taste salty from dancing so much, his second thought is ‘Oh my God’, but all thoughts are gone when Jungkook’s nose grazes his neck.
At the first touch of lips, Jimin jumps, his right hand coming up to clutch Jungkook’s lower arm which is pressing against his chest, nails burying into the fabric of the dress shirt, the other flying to Jungkook’s hand on his waist, grabbing his wrist.
Jungkook’s lips are soft as silk and warm and they slide over his skin just faintly for a moment, before coming to a halt and pressing in harder, with more determination, parting slightly.
Jimin’s eyes flutter shut at the sensation of a hot tongue.
Holy shit. Jungkook’s tongue is on his neck.
His pulse quickens and goosebumps spread all over his body at a soft graze of teeth, then a tiny bite.
He gasps helplessly through his nose at the soft nib that follows and heat pools in his lower stomach when his skin is sucked gently between teeth, before being released again. Jungkook repeats the motion, once, twice…
After the third suck, he bites him again, not so softly this time. The slight pain sends shocks of electricity through Jimin’s body, intermingling with the heat in his gut, traveling lower and between his legs.
Until now, Jimin has been moving his hips to the beat of the music mindlessly, but now his thighs press together and he stops moving completely, his fingers almost crushing Jungkook’s wrist.
The next bite draws a moan from him. A short one, one that doesn’t really leave his mouth because his lips are still pressed together, but he knows Jungkook must’ve felt it, because for a very short moment, he halts in his movements.
Then Jimin feels the mouth on his neck curve into a grin. He doesn’t even have it in him to be annoyed because Jungkook quickly gets back to moving his lips against him. More sensually this time, less biting, more sucking, his tongue pressing into Jimin’s skin hotly.
Jimin knows what he is doing. He’s giving him a hickey. He’s marking him.
And he can’t even find it in him to complain.
Jungkook pulls Jimin even closer, the grip on his waist telling Jimin to keep moving his hips but Jimin has trouble following, still not quite comprehending that this is really happening. He thinks he should probably cover his mouth because he’s breathless now and his lips part against his will, little gasps beginning to slip out.
The longer Jungkook sucks on his neck, the hotter Jimin feels. There is a rush in his ears, intermingling with the beat that pulsing all throughout his body, his heart racing, his toes curling in his shoes at another gentle suck, his fingers twitching.
The spot on his neck that Jungkook is sucking on starts to feel really sore, but the mix of the overall tingling sensation and the pain is just right, and, shit, Jimin is undeniably, absolutely and completely turned on by this.
He realizes with horror that he’s growing hard. He squirms again and tries to will his growing erection down but soon it’s pressing uncomfortably against the seam of his pants, straining the fabric in his crotch, rubbing against it with every move.
Oh God.
There is Jungkook’s thundering heartbeat against his back, there is the soft tickle of Jungkook’s hair, there is Jungkook’s breath against his skin, whenever the other draws back a tiny little bit for some air in between sucking.
At yet another bite, Jimin’s right thigh starts quivering and there is a pull between his legs that increases more and more. It pulls and pulls and pulls until Jimin is pulled so taut, he thinks he might snap any second now, his curled fingers trembling.
He must’ve passed out for a second because suddenly his hand, that has been holding Jungkook’s wrist up until now, is buried in Jungkook’s hair, pulling his head back from his throat.
Jungkook makes a strangled sound and Jimin turns his head to look at him.
When their heated gaze meets, a rush of excitement surges through Jimin. Jungkook looks so… vulnerable like this, his lips parted, red and slightly swollen, his eyes glazed over – with alcohol but with something else too – and his cheeks dusted red.
Without thinking twice, Jimin yanks him forward and crashes their lips together.
Both of them go for it right away, they don’t pause, they don’t hesitate, not even for a heartbeat.
When their lips start moving it’s passionate and hot, when their tongues slide together it’s wet and warm and somehow soft, but also demanding. And while their lips are locked together and their tongues are exploring, Jungkook’s hand wanders from his jaw to his throat, lingering there without any pressure, but still, the touch makes Jimin shudder hotly. While their kiss deepens, slowly turning harder, tongues sliding and teeth nipping, Jungkook’s other hand traces the waistband of Jimin’s jeans, slipping one finger under the fabric.
Jimin gasps into Jungkook’s mouth, rutting his hips, feeling Jungkook pressing against his backside, unmistakably hard.
There is heat, white and hot, curling in Jimin’s stomach.
And then he feels the wetness. A tiny dribble, forming on the tip of his cock, seeping into the fabric of the underwear it’s pressing against.
The realization that he’s leaking precum into his pants like an inexperienced teenager just from dancing and kissing sends a jolt through his body.
He flinches back, pulling away from Jungkook and his wicked mouth.
Their lips part with a loud smack, audible even over the music, which is only now reaching Jimin’s brain again. Suddenly he has to blink against the flashing lights of the club, Jungkook’s face blurring in front of his eyes.
They stare at each other, still kind of entangled, nobody moving, nobody saying a word.
And then Jungkook’s lips curl into a grin.
Jimin’s cheeks flush instantly, hot embarrassment spreading from his face all the way down his neck to his chest. He tries to wind himself out of Jungkook’s hold, his heart racing, but he freezes when Jungkook tightens his hold around him and releases a hot shuddering breath right next to his ear.
“Fuck,” he whispers, sounding just as breathless as Jimin feels. Then his forehead presses against Jimin’s temple, his next words hot against Jimin’s skin.
“I’d work you so fucking hard, Jimin.“
Jimin’s stomach flips and he clenches his jaw to keep himself from making any sound. His thighs are clenching too and when he pulls back from Jungkook to finally walk away, they are trembling, the slightly damp spot on his neck still stinging, a cool sensation spreading on his skin when the dampness is hit by air.
He walks off the dancefloor and definitely does not trip over his own feet at one point, without sparing Jungkook another glance, jaw set, his face burning, ignoring the eyes he can feel in his back, trying to ignore his hard-on too.
Jimin is glad he’s wearing these jeans when he goes to collect his jacket before leaving the club. They’re dark and tight enough to conceal mostly everything from most angles.
He shivers when he steps out of the club and cold night air hits his naked arms, his skin still heated from dancing and from… whatever that other thing was that happened. The sudden lack of loud music makes his surrounding sound somewhat muffled to his ears.
He should get back to the hotel and sleep but just the thought of meeting Jungkook there sooner or later makes his gut clench uncomfortably with nerves.
So when he spots yet another place which seems to serve drinks on his way down the street, he wastes no time and steps inside.
“Rum with coke, please,” he rasps when he arrives at the bar, pressing as close as possible against it to hide his erection from the world, handing the bartender his money. The girl takes it with a nod, but her eyes flicker towards the spot on Jimin’s neck and Jimin slaps his hand over it, covering it with an inward groan of embarrassment. He doesn’t even want to know how bad it looks.
While watching the bartender filling ice cubes in a cup and mixing his drink, he tries calming his nerves.
‘I’d work you so fucking hard, Jimin.’
What the fuck.
What the fucking fuck.
He’s so turned on right now, he wishes he could knock himself unconscious until the feeling is gone. He imagines slamming his head against the bar top until he passes out, maybe the impact will even make him forget what just happened. But since slamming your head against things is rather painful – and kind of crazy – he opts to do the second-best thing: drinking.
He takes a big gulp from the glass that is placed in front of him a short while later. Then another one.
Shit.
He hates Jeon Jungkook.
He hates him. He hates him. He fucking hates him.
He doesn’t know when and how he makes it back to the hotel. All he knows is that Jungkook is suddenly all up in his face, before he can even make it all the way through the door to their room.
"Where the hell have you been?!"
Jimin sways, steading himself on the doorframe.
"Why– why are you shouting at me?"
“Because it’s four in the fucking morning, Park! And you didn’t pick up your phone!”
"Awww—" Jimin snickers, stumbling over his own feet as he attempts to remove his shoes, the door falling shut behind him rather loudly. "Were you worried?"
Jungkook's face flushes an angry red but Jimin isn't sure if it's really only out of anger.
"Don't get it twisted, I just didn't wanna get in trouble with your parents for not getting you home safely."
“You were threatening to kill me earlier today.”
“Whatever. We’ll leave tomorrow at check-out, I don’t give a shit how you feel by then!”
“Let me tell you one thi-”
Jimin is cut off by an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. Somehow the cold light of the hotel room and both of their loud voices make him feel nauseous. His throat constricts.
Shit, he’s gonna throw up.
Jungkook seems to realize it the same moment Jimin does, because with a loud curse he grabs him by his arm and pulls him to the bathroom, Jimin stumbling behind him helplessly.
They just about make it. Jimin is shoved in front of the toilet rather rudely, his knees hitting the tiled floor hard, and he has just enough time to lean forward, before his stomach empties itself violently into the toilet bowl. It’s loud and wet and disgusting, and it hurts in Jimin’s belly and throat and even in his nose.
When he’s finally done, his violent retching now reduced to coughing, which then dies down too, there are tears streaming down his face and he feels incredibly exhausted.
Only now he remembers the other presence in the room.
“I hate you,” he slurs, his voice almost gone, his head lolling into the crook of his elbow.
“Likewise. Now get up,” Jungkook huffs next to him, his hand slipping from between Jimin’s shoulder blades, where he, as Jimin realizes belatedly, was rubbing Jimin’s back while he was busy throwing up.
What the fuck.
“No, I need you to—to liste—n” He lifts his head, his sight blurring while he’s pointing an accusing finger at Jungkook. “I hate you and—go away—”
Jungkook’s face is blurry but Jimin clearly sees him rolling his eyes.
“I’m here to help you out of the goodness of my heart.”
“The goodness—” A high-pitched laugh escapes Jimin, before he glowers at Jungkook again. “I said go away—I don’t wanna-“ A tiny hiccup leaves his throat. “Don’t wanna see you anymore.”
“That’s tough luck because we’re both staying here tonight.”
“I don’t care— Go away—”
“Where the fuck should I go?”
“Go to hell.”
Jungkook snorts. “I think that’s a place where you would be more comfortable than me, Park.” There is a hand pulling on his elbow. “Now get up, you need to sleep.”
“I can sleep here.”
“No, you sleep in your bed.”
A bed does indeed sound a lot comfier than this toilet bowl, so Jimin sits up with a sigh, swaying slightly.
“Wanna brush m’teeth—”
“Yeah, you better.”
When Jimin wakes up his mouth is dry, as if wiped with cotton, his tongue sticky.
For a moment he doesn’t really remember what happened or where he is, he just remembers drinking and throwing up. His eyelids feel swollen and heavy as he blinks slowly, trying to figure out what’s going on.
He doesn’t recognize the ceiling of the room above him, doesn’t recognize the bed he’s in.
The heaviness of his limbs makes him groan while he rolls onto his side. The moment his eyes land on the second bed in the room the memories come back.
The car breaking down, the hotel room, the club, the alcohol, Jungkook…
Jungkook.
Jimin’s whole body tenses and his hand flies to the side of his neck. He winces when his fingers brush over incredibly sore skin, telling of the bruise that’s most likely blooming there. A bruise in the form of the hickey Jungkook gave him.
A hickey. While they were dancing and… and flirting.
That was clearly flirting. Heavy flirting. And kissing.
Oh God, they kissed.
His heart speeds up at the memory and his gaze flies around the room, searching for the other, but he’s nowhere to be seen.
Only when the faint noise of the shower running behind the closed bathroom door registers with him, some of the tension slips from Jimin. He takes a deep breath and contemplates what to do next.
He doesn’t know what time it is, the curtains are closed and there is just enough daylight falling through the gaps to light up the room, and he doesn’t know how long Jungkook has been in the shower but if he’s quick, he could get dressed and out of the room without having to see him. Only that that wouldn’t do him any good, since they’ll be riding in the same damn car for another five fucking hours anyway later today.
Jimin groans and starts sitting up, searching for his phone to get at least the time, but he startles back into a lying position when the water in the bathroom is turned off. He swallows a curse and sinks deeper into his pillow, closing his eyes, trying to even out his breathing, pretending to sleep when the bathroom door opens.
He hears Jungkook shuffle around the room, hears a suitcase being opened and closed.
It doesn’t take long for Jimin’s brain to make the grave mistake to try and get just a little peek.
His mouth goes even drier at the sight he’s provided.
Jungkook has his back turned to him and he’s naked, except for a towel around his waist.
Jimin watches the shift and roll of the muscles in his back, the bulge of his shoulders and triceps, his skin still glistening wetly.
Jimin snaps his eyes shut when the other turns around, but he’s unable to keep them closed for long, so he opens them again, only slightly this time. It’s getting incredibly hot under the covers, drool pooling in his mouth at the sight of abs muscles shifting under wet skin, his gaze getting stuck at the sharp jut of hip bones and the narrow V leading to the hem of the dangerously small towel.
“Like what you see, dipshit?”
Jimin flinches and his eyes fly fully open, meeting Jungkook’s. The other is glaring at him, holding a small container in his hand which seems to be for contact lenses.
Huh?
Jimin didn’t even know Jungkook needed those.
It feels weird, discovering this kind of information about the other, something so little but yet so… personal?
He slowly shakes his head. His brain is mushy, maybe from the hangover or the sight in front of him, or both.
“Yeah, sure,” Jungkook scoffs at his reaction and sets the container down on his bedside table.
“We have to be out of the room by eleven, you better hurry up.”
“What time is it?” Jimin croaks.
“Ten thirty.”
Jimin groans, rolling on his back and rubbing his eyes.
“You should’ve woken me up,” he complains.
“I’m not your mother.”
Jimin feels too tired to argue, so he just sighs and keeps lying there, with an arm draped of his eyes and a thrumming headache forming behind his forehead.
He looks up though at the sound of something being placed on the bedside table next to him and blinks in confusion at the paper cup.
“I got you coffee on my way back from my run” Jungkook mumbles and turns around without meeting Jimin’s eyes. “Figured you wouldn’t have time to get breakfast. Water is in the mini bar, it’s free of charge they said.”
Jimin looks back and forth between the cup of coffee, the delicious smell of roasted caffeine reaching him now, and Jungkook.
That’s oddly… nice.
Before he can comment on it though, Jungkook makes his way to the door, grabbing his key card from the table.
“Gonna get breakfast now, I’ll be back in twenty.”
When the door falls shut behind the other, Jimin stares at it in silence. Then he sits up slowly.
Of course, on Jungkook’s side of the room everything is neat. He even made the bed, although it’s gonna be stripped by room service soon anyway, his luggage packed, his belongings neatly organized on top of his sheets.
On Jimin’s side of the room, however, it’s a mess.
His clothes from the night before are scattered everywhere, he’s only wearing his boxers, his suitcase open, his backpack too, lying on the side, some of the contents spilling out.
He groans in defeat and rubs his face. Then he takes the cup of coffee, taking a huge sip. It’s only lukewarm but the bitter taste spreading on his tongue makes him feel better right away. Slowly he pushes the sheets back with one hand and gets up, deciding to take the coffee with him to the bathroom.
The tiles are cold under his feet but the air in the room is warm, a slight humidity lingering from Jungkook taking a shower earlier. Jimin blinks against the brightness when he turns the light on and almost drops his cup of coffee when he turns to look in the mirror.
Jimin knows what hickeys are. He knows they are technically bruises, that they are this color because of broken blood vessels underneath your skin. But still, he’s shocked.
The hickey Jungkook left on him is huge. And it’s dark. In some spots it’s still red but the majority of it is already blooming in a deep purple color, painfully obvious against his pale skin.
“What the fuck,” he whispers, his own voice echoing in the room. Only now reality hits him fully, the realization that, yes, Jungkook gave him a huge ass hickey last night, on top of a raging boner. And he kissed him. It was so sensual and so… so fucking hot.
‘I’d work you so fucking hard, Jimin.’
Jimin’s dick twitches in his boxers, his stomach tingling, the sudden images of what Jungkook would do to him stealing his breath away.
Fuck.
The shower Jimin takes is hot and thorough, afterwards he downs his coffee – which has turned completely cold by now – and then brushes his teeth twice.
He changes into sweatpants and a turtleneck to cover the bruise and after downing a bottle of water from the mini bar, together with a painkiller he still had in his wallet from the time he sprained his ankle during soccer practice, he finally feels like a human being again.
He’s just done packing, zipping up his suitcase with as much difficulty as he did the morning they left, when the unmistakable sound of someone approaching their door has his shoulders tense.
Okay. He can do this. He will just thank Jungkook for the coffee and then pretend last night didn’t happen.
There is a beeping sound as the key card is inserted into the slot outside the door, then it swings open.
Jungkook throws Jimin a look when he steps into the room.
“You’re not done packing yet?”
His tone is on the verge of annoyed and, immediately, Jimin bristles.
“As you can see, I am done,” he says and gets up from the floor, where he just finished closing his suitcase.
Jungkook eyes some of the trash that Jimin has put on the foot end of his bed and raises his eyebrows.
“Clearly.”
“I was about to throw it in the trash.”
“Sure,” Jungkook shrugs and walks up to his side of the room to grab his backpack and suitcase.
At his tone, Jimin sees red.
“What the hell is your problem?”
Jungkook turns around.
“Where should I even start?”
“Start with keeping your fucking mouth shut,” Jimin mumbles and bends down to zip up his backpack.
“Then don’t ask me questions, idiot.”
Jimin straightens up and glares at Jungkook who has his back turned to him now.
“Call me that again and I’ll dispose of this trash in your car.”
Jungkook throws him a look over his shoulder.
“I could just leave you behind here, you know that, right?”
Jimin rolls his eyes at the lame clapback. “That’s all you can think of?”
Jungkook shrugs. “All I need to think of.”
“God, you’re so annoying-”
“I’m annoying?” Jungkook turns around. “All I did was ask if you’re not done packing yet!”
“Yeah, with a tone, when I was clearly done!”
Jungkook gestures towards the trash. “Well, clearly not!”
Jimin throws his hands up. “Oh my God, shut the fuck up!”
“Then stop talking to me!”
“Again: What the hell is your problem?!”
“You! You are my fucking problem!”
Jungkook throws his backpack on the bed and takes a step closer, then another one.
“I can’t fucking stand you,” he hisses. “You’re so fucking annoying! Your annoying ass voice, your annoying ass laugh, the way you keep falling into people and you’re so messy! It’s just fucking awful, all of it!”
Jimin’s jaw strains in anger and he takes a step in as well.
“Oh, you’re one to talk,” he seethes. “You’re an obnoxious piece of shit, who’s fucking complaining nonstop. And you’re a fucking liar too! You say you can’t stand me, but you were pretty eager to suck on my neck yesterday, Jeon.”
Jungkook snorts.
“I’m surprised I could do it without throwing up, to be honest.”
“Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, I did throw up afterwards, so what does that tell you?”
“That you got yourself shitfaced to forget it turned you on!”
Jimin’s face is on fire immediately.
Busted.
“Why would you slobbering all over my neck, turn me on?”
“I don’t know, you tell me, Jimin.”
Jimin, not Park. Again. Jimin’s stomach does a swoop and he tries his hardest to ignore it.
“I wasn’t turned on.”
“Liar.”
“If anyone was turned on it was clearly you.”
“That’s literally bullshit.”
“Oh yeah? What was that whole ‘I’d work you so fucking hard’ about then, huh?”
Jungkook’s eyes darken.
“Why, been thinking about it?”
Jimin snorts. “You wish.”
Jungkook barks out a laugh. “Yeah, I bet you’ve been imagining it.” Jimin’s jaw clenches, but before he can retort anything, Jungkook continues. “Bet you’ve thought about it nonstop ever since. Did you think about it last night too?” He nods towards Jimin’s bed in the corner of the room. “There in your bed.”
Jimin’s face is positively glowing now and his throat goes dry. From anger, from embarrassment and from something else, that makes him swallow hard. He barely manages to keep it together.
“Wondering what I do in bed often, Jeon?” He hisses.
Jungkook’s eyes narrow dangerously and he takes yet another step forward, is so close now that Jimin has to crane his neck slightly to look him in the eyes. He refuses to back down, his heart hammering.
“Fuck you,” Jungkook growls.
“Fuck me yourself, coward.”
Jimin’s words echo loudly in the room, bouncing off the wall, hanging heavily in the air, even after a second goes by, two seconds, three…
The silence is unsettling and loaded.
Jimin didn’t mean to say… that. It came out of his mouth the very moment his brain thought it. He doesn’t even know why his brain thought of it. Stupid, stupid brain.
They stare at each other, mouths agape, both clearly surprised. And then Jimin startles when a dark look crosses Jungkook’s expression and suddenly, the other gets right in his face. For a short moment Jimin thinks he wants to start an actual physical fight and takes a step back, then another, the other following him, until Jimin’s back hits the wall, but then he catches the way Jungkook’s eyes flicker to his lips.
“Ask nicely,” Jungkook rasps.
Jimin’s knees go weak.
Fuck. That’s not what he expected.
He expected Jungkook to mock him, maybe punch him. Not this.
He swallows hard, suddenly feeling insanely nervous as he stares up at the other. Jungkook is so close, he can see every individual eyelash and tiny freckles on his nose that he never noticed before.
He slowly shakes his head.
“No.”
He has meant for it to come out firm, maybe a bit defiant, but his voice is nothing but a whisper and it seems impossible for his gaze to stop flickering towards Jungkook’s lips.
The other’s eyes darken. Then he lifts his hand.
A tiny noise escapes Jimin at the soft touch of fingertips against his throat, slipping slightly under his turtleneck, then another noise when the fingers press against the bruise there. A hitch of breath. It’s embarrassing and Jimin thinks his heart will tumble out of his chest any moment when Jungkook leans even closer.
“Ask. Nicely.” He repeats, his breath hot on Jimin’s lips.
And then their noses are bumping.
“Fuck you—” Jimin whispers and while doing so, his lips graze Jungkook’s the tiniest bit, a warm sensation, soft, nothing more than a slight tickle.
“Nicely, Jimin. Say please.”
Jimin shakes his head, his pulse thundering in his throat. He leans in.
And then they are kissing.
While their drunk kiss the night before was passionate and hot, this one is similar but different. Without their minds clouded by alcohol their competitiveness surfaces right away. Their kiss is like a fight, both of them keeping each other on their toes, denying each other the upper hand, tongues sliding together harshly, teeth nipping on lips, their breath getting shorter, the kiss sloppier.
A hot pull forms between Jimin’s legs and suddenly, Jungkook's thigh is right there and Jimin presses his crotch into it, hoping Jungkook doesn’t notice his little rut of hips.
Jungkook does notice of course. Jimin can tell from the way his leg lifts up more, rubbing against him totally on purpose and Jimin’s fingers tangle in his clothes as he tries to hold on to something at the delicious pressure.
Jungkook’s hand slides from his throat to the back of his neck, the touch surprisingly gentle, a stark contrast to the way their kiss turns rougher and harder and darker with every second. Jimin tugs on the other’s collar and they press together closer, their loud breathing and the smacks of their mouths the only noise in the room.
“Say please,” Jungkook suddenly whispers again and Jimin is just about to open his lips, the word dangerously dancing on the very tip of his tongue, when a shrill sound makes them both jump apart.
The hotel phone on the shelf right next to the door is ringing and Jimin knows it’s probably the front desk, because one look at the clock tells him they’re almost half an hour late for checking out.
He rearranges his clothes awkwardly while Jungkook goes to pick up the phone to apologize to the lady on the other end, assuring her that they’re on their way downstairs. His face is burning and his heart racing and there is only one though in his mind:
What. The. Fuck.
They don’t meet eyes when they leave the hotel, they don’t meet eyes when they walk side by side through the snowy streets in tense silence towards the garage that’s supposed to have their car ready by now, they don’t meet eyes when they pick the car up and Jimin tries to ignore that fact that the mechanic guy can very clearly sense the tension between them, throwing them curious looks.
They also don’t meet eyes during their remaining car ride home.
The atmosphere is awkward. So awkward that Jimin doesn’t even dare to move.
He’s tense in the passenger seat, overly aware of Jungkook’s presence, Jungkook’s scent, Jungkook’s… everything.
So they kissed. Twice. Once drunk and once sober and both times it was equally intense and equally confusing.
Just the thought has Jimin’s face burning.
He kissed Jungkook.
He kissed Jungkook.
Or did Jungkook kiss him?
Either way, they did something and now it’s embarrassing and Jimin hates it. He’d prefer the arguments and insults over this any day.
For the first two hours nobody says a word.
Only when his empty stomach starts growling louder and louder and Jimin’s starts feeling a little nauseous from being so hungry, he gathers his courage and speaks up.
“Could we stop somewhere for food?” He asks simply, not sparing Jungkook a glance, his face feeling hot.
It’s silent for a while, before Jungkook speaks up.
“Alright.”
It’s another two hours later, two hours of awkward silence and unbearable tension, that Jimin’s phone is vibrating in his pocket. It’s his mom.
“Hi mom, we’re about half an hour away,” Jimin says after picking up, glad to finally have some kind of distraction.
His mom greets him happily.
“Good to hear, sweetheart! The car is all fixed?”
“Yep, everything’s working so far.”
“Let’s hope it stays that way, we can’t wait to see you!”
“Same,” Jimin says and smiles.
“I’m calling to give you a little heads up though, there was a change of plans.”
Jimin perks up. “Change of plans?”
“The storm that canceled your flight reached us yesterday and there’s a huge power outage. The weather has cleared up by now but the power is still out.”
“Oh,” Jimin frowns. “Are you guys okay?”
“Yes, don’t worry, everything is fine! Only the house is ice cold without heating and we obviously can’t use the kitchen for Christmas dinner.”
Jimin’s heart sinks. “Ah damn,” he pouts. He was really looking forward to food. “What are we gonna do now?”
“Oh, don’t worry! Do you remember that the Jeons have an emergency power generator?”
Jimin freezes, cold dread washing through him.
No.
“They invited us over, since you and Jungkook will arrive together anyway! We’ll have a huge dinner altogether, just like old times! Isn’t that wonderful?”
No, no, no…
“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles in defeat. “That’s great.”
It’s awkward. Everything is awkward.
They drive through the dark neighborhood, the street lamps lining the road pointlessly, looking dead and cold. Just like most of the houses. Only a few windows – of houses that are probably equipped with power generators just like the Jeons’ – are shining dimly in the early night.
When they finally park the car in the driveway, they don’t say a word and the tense silence stretches on as they make their way from the car to the front door.
After being greeted by their parents happily – not noticing that their enthusiasm isn’t matched by Jimin and Jungkook in the slightest – they are led inside a richly decorated house.
Jimin throws one last look at his childhood home next door and its dark windows. He sighs.
Inside the Jeons’ home it doesn’t look much different from how Jimin remembered. The big oak table has remained the same, sitting in the middle of a spacious and incredibly stylish kitchen which looks like it’s pulled straight from an interior design magazine but nevertheless welcoming and homey. There are still paintings decorating the walls that Jimin knows are from Jungkook’s mother – even though some of them have been switched out with new ones since he’s been here last time – and there are still numerous pots with plants cluttering the hallway and the living room.
Most lights are turned off – to save the sacred emergency power – and there are lit candles everywhere that bathe the house in an orange flickering glow. It’s warm and it smells nice, of roasted meat, cinnamon and mulled wine, but even though the atmosphere around him is calm and relaxed, Jimin feels none of the like.
No matter how long he sits at the table, no matter how much delicious food he eats after two days of surviving on nothing but snacks and coffee (plus still being slightly hungover), no matter for how long the – admittedly – interesting conversation at the table goes on, he can’t shake off the tension.
Somehow, it was easier to ignore Jungkook in the car.
Now he is sitting right across from him and his presence is like a stone in Jimin’s imaginary shoe, always palpable, always there, and it makes him feel restless and nervous. It’s like his eyes are out of control, wandering over to the other regularly without him even noticing until they land on those long fingers holding the cutlery, or that bare forehead – Jungkook’s bangs being pushed back by one of those sports headbands – or those lips moving when the other chews and swallows.
Jungkook seems indifferent, calm almost, only when their eyes meet once or twice, his gaze shoots away immediately.
The hickey is burning underneath Jimin’s turtleneck.
It’s quite a few hours into the night when Jimin’s dad leaves to check on the power situation in their house. When he comes back it’s not with good news.
“Power is still out. I called the company and they assured me it’ll be back tomorrow morning by ten.”
Jimin’s mother sighs. “It’s going to be a cold night. I think we still have some extra blankets in the closet in Jimin’s old room, I hope they will keep us warm.”
“Why don’t you stay here?” Jungkook’s father suddenly asks. “The couch in the living room is a sofa bed, it fits two people, and Jimin could sleep in Jungkook’s room.”
Jimin, who was about to drink a sip of water, gasps and the liquid that flies right into his windpipe makes him cough violently.
They stay at the table for quite a while longer. Their parents because they’re still conversing animatedly, Jimin – and he guesses also Jungkook – because he dreads retreating for the night.
Only when the clock strikes one in the morning, their parents perk up.
“Oh, it’s this late already?”
“It’s past midnight, it’s Christmas day!” Jimin’s mother exclaims, her cheeks rosy from wine.
“Merry Christmas!” Jungkook’s mother giggles, swirling the red liquid in her own glass around.
Merry Christmas, Jimin thinks bitterly.
Across from him, Jungkook sighs.
Jungkook has his own small bathroom adjoined to his bedroom but Jimin still uses the main bathroom downstairs to shower and get ready for bed.
He’s tired and exhausted, the two days of traveling and the overall tension between him and Jungkook wearing on him.
When he’s done and steps out into the hallway, clad in only boxers and a t-shirt, the lights in the living room are already off, his dad’s loud snoring following him all the way up the dimly lit stairs. He passes Jungkook’s parents’ room, then the room which he knows is used as a small study, before coming to a halt right in front of Jungkook’s door. He knows his luggage is already inside, Jungkook’s father being so kind as to carry it up for him earlier.
He sighs, putting his fingers on the door handle, preparing himself mentally for what’s to come: Sharing a room with Jungkook again.
He opens the door and steps inside, closing it softly behind him.
Correction: Sharing a bed with Jungkook. Not just a room.
The person in question sits on the edge of said bed, with crossed arms, staring at him in the dim light of the bedside lamp. He too is wearing nothing but boxers and a shirt, his hair, just like Jimin, still damp from showering.
Jimin’s eyes dart around the room.
It hasn’t changed much from back then, the only difference is that it’s a bit emptier. There is still the desk, but it's bare without anything on top of it now, the shelves are still filled with comics, blue rays and games, but now there are big chunks missing, which Jungkook either sold or took with him to campus.
The blue bean bag Jimin used to sit in is also still there in the corner. It’s a bit smaller than he remembered. The whole room is smaller. Or maybe he’s just bigger.
The only thing that doesn’t seem smaller is the bed. It’s so big that Jimin wonders if it’s the same from back then. And while it might be big enough for two people, it’s definitely not big enough for Jimin and Jungkook. Because this bed is not made of two beds pushed together. It’s one single mattress. One single pillow. One single blanket.
How’s that supposed to work?
“Do you at least have an extra blanket?” Jimin mumbles, stepping further into the room.
“Nope.”
Jungkook is still staring at him, as if it’s his fault that they have to share a bed now.
And then his eyes wander to Jimin’s neck.
Jimin knows what he’s seeing and he swallows down the embarrassment at the hickey being exposed and huffs, debating if he should go and get a blanket from the dark and cold house next door but he doesn’t have a key on him and would feel bad waking his parents up to ask for one.
“Right,” he sighs, then he steps up to the foot end of the bed, just about to climb on top of it, when Jungkook’s voice makes him halt.
“I sleep there.”
“Huh?”
“I sleep against the wall.”
Jimin gets back to his feet.
“Well, then get out of my spot,” he gestures to where the other is sitting.
Jungkook’s eyes narrow and for a moment it seems like he wants to start an argument, the look on his face making Jimin square his shoulder albeit his tiredness. But then the other just huffs out a sound of tired annoyance, before climbing over towards the wall, slipping beneath the blanket. He grabs the pillow and pulls it over to his side with a pointed look.
Jimin rolls his eyes before getting into bed himself, slipping under the blanket awkwardly, then lying back, resting his head on the bare mattress.
“Turn the light off,” Jungkook snaps.
“Say please,” Jimin retorts.
For a very long moment it’s weirdly silent and just when he’s about to lift his head and look at Jungkook next to him, wondering if the other has already fallen asleep, Jungkook scoffs. Then the bed and the blanket move as he turns around until he’s hovering half over Jimin, one arm extended, fingers on the light switch right next to Jimin’s head.
He looks down at him, his eyes somewhat dark, and Jimin feels weirdly caged in because Jungkook is so close and even though he’s not touching him, Jimin can feel the heat coming off of his body.
He can only blink up at Jungkook in flustered confusion, before the other opens his lips.
“Yeah, right,” he rasps. And then everything is plunged into darkness.
Jimin frowns as Jungkook moves off of him, getting back into his spot, and tries to decipher what the fuck that just was. It takes only a couple of seconds for him to remember Jungkook’s words from this morning, before they checked out of the hotel.
“Ask. Nicely.”
He remembers the feeling of his hot breath against his lips, remembers the way their tongues slid together, the way he tasted.
Jimin’s face flushes hot. His neck too.
“Nicely, Jimin. Say please.”
He stares into the darkness, his heart suddenly beating a lot faster.
“Say please.”
That’s what Jungkook was referring to just now.
Jimin groans inwardly, the hot flush traveling all the way down to his chest, his ears heating up too. Why the hell would he bring that up?
He swallows thickly before huffing out a sound that didn’t quite convey the amount of annoyance he wanted it to, then he shuffles under the blanket and turns to his side, facing away from the other.
He tugs his arm under his head, already hating the lack of pillow and stares into the darkness of the room. Slowly his eyes adjust, the hint of moonlight falling through the gaps in the curtain illuminating the room just enough so Jimin can make out the outlines of the furniture and his gaze gets stuck on the shape of the bean bag in the corner.
He remembers the times he was sitting on that exact bean bag as a kid, watching Jungkook play his stupid games, arguing with him about how to fight bosses, about if the milk or the cereal comes first, about tab water vs. bottled water...
He remembers an argument getting particularly heated when they were talking about whether hot dogs are sandwiches or not – of course they are not, what the fuck? – which then got even worse when the topic shifted to other foods and Jungkook spewed his bullshit opinion that corner brownies are better than middle ones. Jimin almost lost it when, even further into the argument, Jungkook said it doesn’t matter if pizzas are round or rectangular. Obviously it does matter, the round ones are always superior.
Those were the times when he was this close to beating Jungkook up. And a few years later they really did beat each other up.
Weirdly enough, Jimin almost misses the time they were only fighting with words, when their coexistence seemed almost possible.
He startles when Jungkook moves around behind him, so violently that the mattress bounces for a moment, before it stills again.
Jimin rolls his eyes.
Who would’ve thought back then, that this is what it would come to. Them sharing a bed, in exactly this room after a messy road trip together.
Pictures of them dancing and kissing flash through Jimin’s mind.
Well, that’s also something he wouldn’t have expected.
Jungkook moves around once more, tugging a bit of the blanket off Jimin and Jimin rolls his eyes again, grabbing the fabric to pull it back on top of him. Jungkook stills.
Jimin wonders if he’s also thinking about it. About the past but also about yesterday and about this morning. He feels weirdly flustered at the thought of them both thinking about it, lying here, right next to each other.
The mattress bounces again and this time, a groan leaves Jimin’s throat.
“Can you fucking stop?”
“Shut up.”
Jimin freezes, heart leaping into his throat.
Jungkook’s voice is closer than expected. A lot closer. So close that he can feel the soft tingle of warm breath grazing the back of his neck at the words.
Immediately, his ears and neck are heating up once again and he doesn’t dare to move.
The silence around them is tense and when Jungkook shuffles behind him again, scooting even closer, Jimin’s throat goes dry because now the other is so close that Jimin can feel the warmth coming off of his body.
His pulse is thundering loud in his ears over the silence and he doesn’t even dare to breathe.
Why the hell is he so close? Surely, Jungkook won’t —
Movement again and then a warm palm on his hip.
Jimin bites his tongue, his eyes staring unwaveringly into the darkness. Heat seeps through the fabric of his boxers, right where Jungkook’s palm is lying heavily.
The silence stretches on and nobody moves. Jimin knows Jungkook is waiting for him to say something, to push his hand off, to tell him to stop… but Jimin does none of the like. He just lies there, frozen in a mix of nervous shock and hot tension, his mind empty but running a million miles per hour at the same time.
He bites his lower lip when the palm moves, slowly, so slowly, smoothing over the curve of his hip and up to his waist, where it slides under his shirt.
Jimin’s thighs clench at the sudden skin on skin contact, the warmth of Jungkook’s palm turning into scorching heat that travels right between his legs.
Just the slightest touch and he’s already growing hard in his boxers, surprisingly and embarrassingly fast.
It gets even worse when, after yet another while, Jungkook’s thumb starts rubbing over his skin. First in slow circles, then up and down, up and down… It’s only a small movement but weirdly affectionate and it has goosebumps spread over Jimin’s entire body, something thickly hot pooling in his lower belly. Jungkook has never touched him like this. It’s new and somehow exciting, but dangerous.
Behind him, he hears Jungkook’s calm and shallow breathing and he tries his best to calm down too, but it’s to no avail when the hand slips slowly from his waist around to his front, fingers traveling over his lower tummy, before sliding upwards, further and further under his shirt and towards his chest.
His breath catches audibly when hot fingertips graze his nipple.
Jungkook pauses at the sound, staying still, as if frozen, his fingers pressing against the nub, unmoving, and Jimin knows Jungkook must be feeling the thundering heartbeat against his fingertips like this.
After what seems like an eternity, Jungkook slides his hand back down until a finger dips into Jimin’s navel, and then up again. Jimin’s toes curl, a fluttery feeling spreading inside him at the featherlight touch skimming over his front.
Up and down.
Up and down.
Jungkook is still quiet behind him, his breathing shallow, but there is tension rolling off of him in waves, a tension that Jimin feels all around him, in the air and inside himself too.
With each time Jungkook’s hand slides over one of his nipples Jimin’s body turns more and more into a restless mess and holding still is getting harder and harder with each racing heartbeat.
When Jungkook’s fingers skim over the hem of his boxers, Jimin’s entire body tenses.
Jungkook must’ve felt it because he pauses again, waiting for a heartbeat, two, three…
And then his hand wanders lower.
And lower.
Jimin’s lips fall open, no sound coming out, his right leg jerking a little, when Jungkook touches him there.
It’s just one finger that trails over the strain in his boxers, all the way from the tip of his cock down to his balls, but it leaves a trail of surging heat through the fabric and Jimin’s cock jumps pathetically at the touch. And then again when Jungkook slides his finger back to the tip.
When it seems as if Jungkook is about to draw his hand back, something jolts through Jimin.
It’s as if his body has a mind of its own and he’s not even realizing that he’s moving, only snapping out of it when his fingers are already encircling Jungkook’s wrist and he’s holding him steady, forcing his hand down between his legs, making him press his flat palm against his crotch.
Apparently, that’s all the reassurance Jungkook needed.
There is a shuddering exhale of breath that tickles Jimin’s nape and only a heartbeat later, hot lips latch onto the very same spot, Jungkook’s front suddenly flush against his backside.
Jimin feels the rapid beating of Jungkook’s heart even through their shirts and he almost chokes when an unmistakable hardness presses against his clothed butt, settling right between his cheeks as if it belongs there.
Fuck.
He’s not sure if he rolls his hips back himself, or if Jungkook makes him do it with the pressure of his hand against Jimin’s crotch, but the reaction he gets – a strangled sigh, hot against his nape – is enough reason for him to do it again. And again. And again.
The graze of teeth comes almost at the same time as the movement between his legs, Jungkook’s palm rubbing up and down on top of his boxers, sliding over his length in long lazy strokes and Jimin comes alight at the rhythmic touch, burning hot all over, his teeth digging into his lower lip at the attempt to stifle the sounds that are about to slip from his throat.
When Jungkook’s fingers skim over the hem of his boxers, slipping inside, Jimin goes rigid, holding his breath. And Jungkook goes slow, sliding his hand lower and lower carefully, until his fingertips nudge Jimin’s hard cock. Jimin gasps and his cock jumps, his mind swimming with growing arousal and the feeling of Jungkook’s lips on his nape, the press of his erection against his butt.
And then Jungkook’s long and warm fingers wrap around him, squeezing gently, before moving up and down.
Jimin’s mouth falls open as a wave of hot pleasure washes through him and he’s unable to hold back the moan this time, forgetting where they are.
It echoes around them, loud, almost jarring, and Jungkook moves right away to push his arm under Jimin’s head, clamping his hand over his mouth from underneath.
“Shhh,” he breathes into his ear and Jimin gasps against the hot palm when Jungkook’s other hand starts speeding up, his strokes firmer now, with a flick of wrist, sliding over his length in delicious motions that have Jimin’s toes curl.
His eyes flutter shut, his hand searching for purchase as he grabs Jungkook’s lower arm to hold on. He rolls his hips back against the hardness behind him, over and over again, Jungkook’s labored breathing over the rustling of the sheets spurring him on.
It feels forbidden, doing this here, doing it with Jungkook of all people, but it also feels good. Dangerously good.
Jungkook’s hands are large and warm and they touch Jimin just right, holding him in such a vulnerable position, with one hand on his mouth and one on his cock. But not only does Jimin feel a bit vulnerable, he feels somewhat powerful too, a strange pride rising in his chest at the thought of having Jungkook panting behind him like this, heavy and saturated with desire.
Jungkook wants him.
Jimin keeps rutting into Jungkook’s fist and soon it’s unbearably hot under the covers, sweat collecting where Jungkook is pressing against him, his palm uncomfortably damp against Jimin’s face from his hot breath. He grabs Jungkook’s wrist and yanks his hand off, inhaling cool bedroom air.
“We’re— We’re in your fucking childhood home— fucking pervert–,” he gasps as quietly as possible.
“You don’t seem to have a problem with that,” Jungkook mumbles against his neck, leaving wet kisses and gentle bites, his hand on Jimin’s cock wandering lower, cupping his balls. Jimin opens his mouth to retort something but his breath catches when Jungkook changes direction again, sliding his hand from his balls up to his tip, one finger circling it gently, the familiar pull in Jimin’s stomach and the pulsing in his cock telling him that he’s about to leak precum soon.
He’s hot and sweaty, annoyed that the covers keep sticking to him, and he swears under his breath when he grabs the blanket and tries to throw it off, only to get even more tangled in it.
Jungkook chuckles at his attempt and pulls his hand out of his pants to help him. Jimin winces as the waistband snaps back in place, trapping his hardness uncomfortably, but he keeps wiggling until cool air hits his heated skin when the blanket is finally off and pooling at the foot end.
He’s not given much time to catch his breath though because within the blink of an eye he’s grabbed by two strong hands and pushed on his back, his head hitting Jungkook’s pillow.
The other slides between his open legs and even though Jimin can’t see much in the dark, the shadow of Jungkook on top of him is enough to make his throat go dry, his heart pounding.
Two large hands smooth over his front, thumbing both nipples through his shirt, making Jimin jolt in the pillow, before traveling lower and lower until they reach the hem of his boxers. There, Jungkook pauses and Jimin’s cock twitches impatiently, trapped under the fabric.
“What are you waiting for?” He rasps.
For a moment Jungkook doesn’t say anything. Then there is an amused tilt in his voice when he speaks up.
“For you to say please.”
Jimin feels tight and taut and a lot more excited than he should be.
“Never.”
Jungkook clicks his tongue and suddenly Jimin is blinded by brightness when the light on the bedside table flares up, illuminating the room around them. He blinks, his eyes only slowly adjusting. When his vision clears, the sight of Jungkook on top of him has his heart hammer.
His hair is dry by now and a bit disheveled and in a different scenario Jimin would make fun of him for it because his hair looks absolutely ridiculous, all messy like this, but his expression, the look in his eyes, shuts Jimin up and has him swallow thickly instead.
Jungkook’s pupils are blown wide, his eyes half-lidded, and there is something dark in his gaze as he lets it travel over Jimin’s front, pausing at the naked skin of his waist where his shirt has ridden up and then lower between his legs, where his hard length is still straining against his boxers.
Jimin’s cock twitches under the attention, his balls clench, and then he feels the wetness of precum trickle from his slit. He follows Jungkook’s line of sight, watches in embarrassment as the wetness seeps into the gray fabric, a small dark patch forming.
Immediately, Jimin’s legs move on their own, pulling in, his thighs trying to press together to hide his crotch, but Jungkook’s body between them keeps them spread and butterflies erupt in his stomach when Jungkook grabs him by the back of his knees, holding him open. His eyes are still fixated on the bulge in Jimin’s boxers, the wet patch growing under his gaze. Jimin squirms a little but doesn’t try to close his legs again, his heart racing as the butterflies turn into a storm that’s a mix of sharp desire and even sharper shame. He feels hot all over from anticipation, arousal and embarrassment.
He’s waiting for Jungkook to mock him for being wet like this already, like a fucking inexperienced teenager, but the taunt doesn’t come.
Instead, Jungkook – with his eyes still fixated on Jimin’s crotch – licks his lips.
A thrill shoots up Jimin’s spine.
Oh God.
Jungkook shuffles backwards before leaning down, his hands sliding from the back of Jimin’s knees to the back of his thigh.
Oh fucking God.
Jimin’s breath hitches. He’s way too excited about this.
This whole thing shouldn’t be happening.
But he for sure won’t do anything to stop it from happening.
He watches with wide eyes as Jungkook bends lower until his face is hovering over Jimin’s crotch and before Jimin can even brace himself, Jungkook’s lips press against the bulge, his hot breath seeping into the fabric of his underwear as he mouths over his length, which promptly gives another jolt.
Jimin slaps a hand in front of his mouth to keep the choked sound inside that’s about to slip out, his other burying in the sheets beside him as he tries to keep himself from rutting his hips up.
Jungkook’s lips slide over the fabric teasingly and overwhelming heat pools in Jimin’s stomach, the realization that Jungkook is doing this, even though his underwear is wet down there, making it even harder not to squirm against the mouth on his cock in excitement.
He almost sighs in relief when Jungkook’s lips slide further up, his hands leaving Jimin’s legs as he brings them to the mattress to hold himself up on either side of Jimin while his mouth wanders over the exposed skin of Jimin’s stomach, then over his ridden-up shirt, biting his nipple that perks up under the fabric, which sends another jolt through Jimin, before wandering all the way up to Jimin’s throat.
He pulls back, their eyes meeting only for a second, before Jungkook brings his hand up to touch Jimin’s chin, tipping his head back in the pillow, forcing him to expose his throat.
Jimin swallows hard, watches with half lidded eyes as Jungkook follows the movement of his Adam's apple before zeroing in on the bruise that’s blooming on the side of Jimin’s throat. The bruise that he left there himself.
Only yesterday they were dancing in the club, lost in the same kind of tense desire that permeates the air right now, and Jimin wonders if it was this kind of desire that muddled his brain after all and not the alcohol, because right now he feels just the same. All flustered again, buzzing, his thoughts scattered, anticipation making him tense and dizzy.
His eyelids flutter shut when Jungkook’s fingers press into the bruise, his lips parting with a gasp. When he opens his eyes again, he just about catches Jungkook leaning down, before he feels his lips on his throat.
His head is swimming when teeth scrape over the already sensitive skin and he squirms, his hand flying into Jungkook’s hair at the slight pain, unsure if he wants to pull him off or closer.
And then Jungkook lowers himself on Jimin fully.
He’s warm and heavy and Jimin is aware of every hard muscle shifting against him just as he’s aware of Jungkook’s bulge pressing against his own, the feeling making a drool pool under his tongue.
Without even realizing it, he wraps his legs around Jungkook’s hips. The other pauses and exhales loudly against his neck. And then he starts rocking forward.
Somehow, having his legs around Jungkook’s hips like this, his hand in his hair, the steady back and forth of their hips, Jungkook’s hot breath on his neck… all that makes the situation even more real to Jimin. How did they even get here? Dry humping like horny teenagers.
He’s not able to think about it any longer, because at a particularly good roll of hips he clenches up, the muscles along his inner thighs tightening.
Both their breathing is turning more and more labored with each heartbeat and Jimin’s fingers tangle in Jungkook’s hair at yet another graze of teeth on his throat, tilting his head back further to give the other more room. Jungkook hums in appreciation and the sound has a hot sensation shooting up Jimin’s spine. He tightens his legs around the other, craving more friction, more heat, more of everything.
He untangles his legs from Jungkook’s waist and his fingers from his hair, reaching down to tug on his boxers.
“Off,” he mumbles. “Come on–”
He’s almost surprised when Jungkook moves without a single complaint. Jimin only gets a fleeting glance at the other’s flushed cheeks when they both get rid of their underwear in a mess of limbs on jumbled sheets.
Jungkook kicks his boxers off the bed rather ungracefully. Jimin’s are soon to follow and his mouth goes dry when Jungkook yanks his shirt over his head, exposing all the naked skin and muscles, before he grabs Jimin’s. Jimin has just about time to raise his arms, then the piece of clothing is pulled off.
Their breathing has by no means calmed down when they are done and stare at each other’s naked bodies.
Jimin is glowing with heat under Jungkook’s gaze, notices how the other’s eyes travel from his chest down to his dick, then back up again, pausing on the tattoo on Jimin’s ribcage. Jungkook reaches out, tracing the bold letters with his fingertips and Jimin realizes that the other has probably never seen it before, with it being in such a hidden spot.
Jimin on the other hand, knows every single tattoo on Jungkook’s arm. He’s seen the other without long sleeves more often than he can count and even though he would never admit it, he always noticed when a new tattoo was added over the years, his eyes drawn to every new patch of color.
Jimin’s gaze wanders from Jungkook’s arm over his pectorals to his stomach muscles, and then further down, takes in his flushed cock that’s standing long and thick, watches it bob up and down when the other leans in to slide on top of him again.
This time however, Jimin stops him with a palm to his chest.
Jungkook blinks when Jimin pushes him backwards, forcing him to sit in the sheets, but his eyes darken when Jimin follows, shuffling on top of him so that his knees dig into the mattress on either side of Jungkook’s thighs. Both of them gasp in union when their naked cocks press together, the heat spreading from Jimin’s lower belly throughout his entire body, even his fingers tingling when they find their way back to Jungkook’s hair.
Jungkook stares at him in the dim light, his face so close that, for a very short moment, Jimin feels the urge to look away. He swallows it down, tightens his grip in Jungkook’s hair instead. The other doesn’t even wince, instead he brings his large palms to Jimin’s hips before opening his lips slightly, as if he wants to say something. He closes them again only a second later, his gaze wandering to Jimin’s mouth.
Jimin swallows thickly. The atmosphere is loaded, tingling his skin, and he’s undeniably nervous, doesn’t dare to move. Goosebumps spread on his skin when Jungkook’s thumbs start rubbing circles into his hips where he’s holding him.
It’s Jungkook who leans in first, grazing Jimin’s lip with his own carefully. It’s a short-lived touch, nothing but a peck, and it’s so soft that Jimin feels a flush spread on his cheeks. Their breaths are intermingling and when their lips meet again, it’s because they both move simultaneously. It’s another peck, and then another one.
However, it doesn’t take long for the soft fleeting touches to grow harder, more urgent, soon their lips are open and their tongues meet.
Jimin’s hands wander from Jungkook’s hair to his face, cupping his cheeks with both palms, feeling the movement of his jaw, reveling in the way Jungkook’s mouth and tongue are hot and soft, while their kiss grows harder and harder, almost bruising.
All air is knocked out of him when the hands on his hips slide to his ass, grabbing him harshly, fingers digging into his cheeks, pulling him in even closer, their hard twitching lengths rubbing together. He gasps into the other’s mouth, ruts his hips forward with an urge that stems from the hot pull between his legs, which grows more and more intense the longer they are rolling their hips together, the longer they are kissing and kissing and kissing…
The smacks of their lips are kind of loud in the room, mixing with their labored breathing and the rush in Jimin’s ears, making his face heat up even more. It’s somehow reassuring that Jungkook’s cheeks feel just as hot under his palms.
Their kiss is getting a little wet and messy when the fingers on his ass pull his cheeks apart and everything comes to a halt when one of them suddenly slides in between, touching him right there, grazing his rim.
Jimin’s muscles lock, his body going rigid.
Jungkook stills too and when Jimin draws back, breaking their kiss, the other’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes glazed over as he’s regarding Jimin, gauging his reaction.
Jimin’s heart is hammering so hard that he thinks it might jump out of his chest any moment. His hands are still on Jungkook’s cheeks and his fingers twitch slightly at the prospect of where this is going.
It seems he stays quiet for too long, because Jungkook slowly draws his hand back from down there.
“Sorry.”
Jimin doesn’t say anything to that, instead he moves without thinking twice, reaching behind himself to grab Jungkook by his wrist, guiding his hand back to where it was, his rim clenching when he pushes Jungkook’s fingertips against it.
Jungkook meets his eyes and Jimin knows his face must be glowing red by now.
It only takes a heartbeat for Jungkook to move.
“Fuck,” he gasps. “Fuck, okay.”
Suddenly, Jimin’s world is turned upside down when his back hits the sheets, the mattress bouncing slightly as Jungkook scrambles off of him. Jimin blinks, following with his eyes as the other stumbles across the room, butt naked, bending down in front of his open suitcase, rummaging around in it loudly.
When he gets back to the bed, he throws two packets of lube and a condom into the sheets right beside Jimin, before settling down himself.
“Turn around. Ass up.”
Jimin glares at him.
“Don’t give me orders.”
Jungkook, who was just about to open one of the lube packages, looks at him and rolls his eyes.
“Fine, stay like this then.”
“I said don’t give me orders,” Jimin hisses, then turns around on his stomach.
Jungkook chuckles behind him and Jimin tries to ignore it, tries to ignore the heat in his face as well when he elevates himself on his knees, arching his back and sticking his butt out, pressing his burning cheek against the pillow.
The fire inside him burns even hotter when he hears the lube package being ripped open.
Holy shit. This is really happening.
He flinches when a warm palm runs over his bottom, caressing the undercurve of his butt almost gently, and every muscle in his body seems to contract when his cheeks are spread apart. Before Jimin can even start being embarrassed by the fact that everything is on display for Jungkook right now, his thoughts come to an immediate halt when a finger brushes over his rim, wet with cold lube, circling it. Jimin feels himself clench at the teasing touch and he screws his eyes shut, turning his head to press his face into the pillow.
It’s silent, nobody saying a word, the only noise being the slick sound of lube and Jimin’s muffled labored breathing as Jungkook increases the pressure, massaging his rim firmly.
And then he pushes inside.
Jimin is no stranger to being fucked. Granted, he’s been fucked more by his dildos and vibrators than actual dicks during the past year or so, but he’s used to having stuff up his ass.
And still, for some reason it’s entirely different when Jungkook’s warm finger slides into him with ease.
Jimin’s mouth falls open at the feeling of being filled. It’s slow and electric and a loud whine leaves his throat without him noticing.
Jungkook stills.
“Shh!”
Jimin turns his head to glare at the other over his shoulder.
“I’m fucking trying!” He whisper-yells.
Jungkook glares back. “Then try harder.”
Jimin wants to retort something but he’s forced to clamp his mouth shut when Jungkook pulls his finger out gradually before pushing back in, with two fingers this time, ripping another strangled moan from him.
This time, he feels the stretch and this time, Jungkook reaches farther, his fingertips grazing that spot inside Jimin that has hot desire shoot up his spine. His cock jumps, precum drooling onto the sheets below.
Jungkook spreads Jimin’s cheeks apart with his free hand, most likely watching Jimin’s hole clenching around his fingers, then he pulls all the way out again, slowly, so slowly, before pushing back in. He keeps repeating the motion, over and over, pushing in, pulling out, again and again… Each time he pushes in, a quiver runs through Jimin’s body. Each time he pulls out, Jimin’s muscles tighten, trying to suck him back inside.
“Greedy,” he hears Jungkook mumble and huffs into the pillow in response, his own hot breath fanning over his face.
“Shut up.”
Jungkook doesn’t retort anything. Instead, he starts moving his fingers faster and harder and Jimin’s hands are straining in the pillow, his toes curling each time Jungkook touches that spot that has burning delight surging through him.
He almost complains when Jungkook pulls out completely, leaving him fluttering and empty, but when he hears the rustle of the lube package again, he sucks his lower lip between his teeth in anticipation.
When Jungkook pushes back inside, with three fingers this time, Jimin feels the excessive amount of lube and he can’t help but love how wet and messy it is, loves the way he’s dripping and full, wants more and more and more. He only faintly realizes that he’s rolling his hips now, tiny motions to meet Jungkook’s steady thrusts, his sweaty fingers in the sheets flexing.
Embarrassingly soon, his whole body is on fire, the hot tension in his lower half building and building until it’s so unbearably hot, he knows it’s about to boil over. When Jungkook starts massaging his prostate relentlessly, the shocks of pleasure zapping through him have every muscle inside his body clenching, his cock drooling pathetically.
“Oh—" He whines into the pillow, his knees slipping on the sheets. “Fuck— I’m-”
Suddenly, the fingers are gone and Jimin clenches around nothing, the hot tension slowly ebbing away. Shit, he really was about to come just from Jungkook’s fingers.
He turns his head to look over his shoulder, blinking the blurriness from his eyes to watch Jungkook rip the condom wrapper open with his teeth, a sight which shouldn't be this hot.
Before the other can take the condom out, Jimin moves into an upright position and turns around.
He snatches the condom from Jungkook’s hand.
“I’ll do it.” He nods towards the pillow. “Lie down.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow. “Don’t give me orders,” he repeats Jimin’s words from earlier.
Jimin just glares at him and gives him a shove. “Lie down.”
Jungkook scowls, but then he does as he’s told and lies down on his back, with an arm behind his head, making a show out of getting comfortable.
Jimin rolls his eyes and pulls the condom from its wrapping. Only when he straddles Jungkook’s thighs does the other still.
Jimin watches in awe as the muscles in Jungkook’s lower stomach contract the moment he places the condom on the tip of his cock, carefully rolling it down over the thick length. He swallows the drool that’s been collecting in his mouth at the sight and when he’s done, he runs one finger from the base to the tip teasingly, reveling in the way Jungkook’s cock jumps at the touch. Then he collects the packet of lube from beside them, squeezing the last bit of it onto his hand before bringing it back to Jungkook’s length, coating it thoroughly. The squelching sound echoes around the room, while Jungkook’s breathing turns louder and harder the longer Jimin pays attention to his cock.
Jimin’s gaze snaps up to look at the other and his stomach swoops at the expression on Jungkook’s face. He’s watching Jimin’s hands on him with half-lidded and glazed-over eyes, his teeth digging into his lower lip which is already bitten red, the muscles in the arm behind his head straining, his hand in the sheets beside him flexing.
Only a second later, his hand finds its way to Jimin’s thigh, squeezing it, the remnants of lube on his fingers making him slip.
“Enough,” he rasps. “Get on with it.”
Jimin wants to tell him to say please, wants to tease him a bit more, wants to see him unravel under his hands… But the urge to feel that thick length buried inside him, to be filled by it, is even bigger.
With a racing heart, he lifts himself up and shuffles forward, positioning himself right above Jungkook’s crotch, reaching behind himself to grab his cock and put it between his butt cheeks, rubbing it over his rim a couple of times, spreading the lube around.
He shudders at the touch and Jungkook’s hands fly to his hips with a loud exhale of breath.
And then Jimin sinks down. Slowly but steadily, bit by bit, taking his time.
His fingers bury into the muscles of Jungkook’s stomach at the feeling of being stretched and filled gradually and the hot fullness breaks his mind a little bit. He’ll for sure feel that tomorrow.
When his ass finally meets Jungkook’s lap he trembles in pleasure, his hole contracting around the girth inside him and he bites his lips in an attempt to keep silent. God, he’s so fucking full.
Jungkook's grip on his hips is almost bruising, fingers digging into his flesh and when Jimin looks at him, the other is already taking him in, with an open mouth.
They both stay still for a moment, looking at each other, getting used to the feeling and the fact that, yes, this is indeed happening. Jimin’s heart is beating so hard, he can feel it all the way up in his throat but before he can think any longer about the fact that he’s sitting on Jeon Jungkook’s dick, the other’s hands smooth over his waist, traveling over his stomach and up to his chest. Jimin shudders at a pinch to his nipples, heat swirling in his stomach.
He leans forward to brace himself, then he lifts his hips up slowly, letting Jungkook slip out until only the tip is still inside, and then sinks back down.
A strangled moan leaves both of their lips, definitely too loud for the setting, but the drag of Jungkook’s length inside him has such hot arousal shoot through Jimin’s body that he can’t possibly stop moving now.
Putting all the strength into his thighs, he lifts himself up before he sinks back down, up and down, again and again, moving his hips in steady motions, jolts of pleasure shooting through him at every drag over his prostate.
Jungkook’s hands wander from his chest down to his cock, where long fingers wrap around him and Jimin whines under his breath, his hips speeding up as he keeps fucking himself on Jungkook’s cock while fucking into his fist at the same time, smearing precum all over Jungkook’s palm.
Soon his thighs are straining and there is sweat starting to collect in his hairline, his damp hands on Jungkook’s stomach slipping, but this feels too good to let exhaustion get the better of him so he keeps going, his heart racing, his mind unfocused, his body burning up.
When Jungkook starts rolling his hips in the tiniest motion to meet Jimin’s, grinding into his prostate, low moans and little gasps fall from both their lips. Jimin feels so good and for a short moment, he forgets where they are, his vision slowly blurring. All he can think about is the pleasure and the insane need to come.
It takes a while for him to realize something that has been there the whole time: A noise that slowly but surely seeps into his brain.
With every roll of hips, every up and down motion, the mattress below them makes a jarringly loud squeaking sound.
Jimin frowns, his mind clearing. He slows down until he stops in his movements altogether.
Jungkook blinks up at him, damp strands of hair stuck to his forehead, his eyes glazed over. Jimin stares back.
“Why the hell is your bed so fucking loud?” He hisses as quietly as possible and it takes a moment for Jungkook’s eyes to clear.
“Because you’re moving around too much,” he growls back.
“Are you seriously complaining that I’m riding you?”
“Obviously not, I’m just saying do it more gently.”
“What? You’re into vanilla?”
Jungkook clicks his tongue, an annoyed look crossing his features and before Jimin knows what’s happening he has a mouthful of fingers. A displeased sound leaves his throat but he can’t hide the hot shudder that’s running through him when Jungkook’s fore- and middle finger press down on his bottom teeth, his jaw being forced open, allowing Jungkook to slide further inside, rubbing over his tongue.
“The attitude.”
“Whd‘bout it?” Jimin slurs, muffled by the digits in his mouth.
“Stop it.”
Jimin scoffs and bites down. Not hard but enough to make Jungkook yank his hand back and glare at him.
“You’re a menace.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
Before Jimin can retort anything, he’s suddenly manhandled around. He just about manages to stifle a yelp when Jungkook swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling Jimin with him, hoisting him up by his hips, before he gets to his feet.
The only thing Jimin can do is hold onto Jungkook as he’s carried through the room, his ass still stuffed with cock. He ignores the sudden thought of how remarkable it is that Jungkook is able to carry him like this, and also tries but fails to ignore the way Jungkook’s muscles are flexing against him. His hold around the other’s neck tightens when they sink down and Jimin’s back hits something soft but firm.
He blinks up at Jungkook, and then he almost chokes, stifling a laugh of disbelief.
“You can’t be serious.”
“You don’t like it?” Jungkook asks with a knowing smile.
Jimin sinks further into the beanbag, the blue fabric soft against his naked skin. The very same beanbag he used to sit on as a child.
“This is fucked up.”
“You complained about the bed being too loud.”
“And you said we should go slower.”
“Yes and here we don’t have to do that.”
Jungkook grabs him under his knees, forcing Jimin’s legs apart, bending him by his hip. His cock is still deep inside Jimin and in this position, he feels it even more.
He exhales shakily. “Fucking go on then.”
Jungkook throws him a look but instead of complaining about Jimin ‘giving him orders’ he gets right back to it. The first couple of thrusts are slow, both of them adjusting to the new position and the new feeling that comes with it. But soon enough, Jungkook’s hips speed up, his grip on Jimin’s legs tightening as he pumps into him, the force becoming exactly what Jimin craves.
He throws his head back at the new increase of pleasure, his nails digging into Jungkook’s forearms. His heavy breathing, mixed with Jungkook’s, fills the room as well as the sound of Jungkook’s balls slapping against his ass.
The pressure inside him builds and Jimin’s thighs start quivering, making Jungkook tighten his grip.
“Somewhere else—,” Jungkook rasps. “If we were somewhere else, I’d make you fucking scream-–”
As if on cue, a loud moan rips from Jimin’s throat, a sound he’s not able to hold in, no matter how hard he tries.
“Shh!”
Jungkook reaches out to press his palm against Jimin’s open mouth, his thumb digging into his cheek on one side, the rest of his fingers pressing just as harshly into the other as he holds Jimin by his face, stifling his moans. Jimin wants to complain that him being loud is Jungkook’s fault for talking like that but the thought slips away as quickly as it came when the rhythmic thrusts turn into a lazy roll of hips, slow and deep, dragging over Jimin’s prostate over and over again.
Jimin’s eyes roll back, his fingers clutching the beanbag, his cock throbbing with every touch to his sweet spot, jerking at the same time his legs do, the wetness of his precum collecting in his navel.
“Getting fucked looks good on you,” Jungkook whispers, suddenly a lot closer, his lips almost touching Jimin’s ear. “Taking it so well—”
Shut up, Jimin wants to say but nothing more than a muffled whine leaves his throat as Jungkook’s hips speed up again and the roll of hips turns into long steady thrusts.
Jimin doesn’t know when exactly it happens but from some point on there is no more talking. There’s nothing but desperate sounds spilling from both of their throats, harsh breaths, way too loud gasps, and quiet moans.
Jimin is high. So high on pleasure, high on Jungkook, high on Jungkook on him, high on Jungkook in him.
The beanbag he’s lying on is molding around him, accommodating to his shape, it’s somehow soft and at the same time somehow hard and Jimin’s feels weightless, feels like he’s burning, feels something inside him pulling and pulling, pulling him so tight that he knows he’ll snap any moment now. The feeling is getting so intense that his eyes start watering, his toes curling, his legs quivering.
“J-Jungkook, I– I’m–” Jimin gasps, bringing his hand up to bury his fingers in the other’s hair.
“Yeah—” Jungkook breathes against his neck. “Me too—”
His cheeks are dusted pink, his eyes unfocused, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple and Jimin thinks it’s the hottest he has Jungkook ever seen.
Jimin sobs, taking hold of his own cock, lying hard and wet against his naked stomach and starts jerking himself off with quick movements. The tension inside him grows stronger and hotter with each breath until his body can’t hold any more of it and he finally snaps.
His back arches, the hand on his cock speeding up while his whole body trembles violently. His lower abs tighten almost painfully and then his cock twitches between his fingers as his orgasm washes over him. He comes all over himself, clamping down on Jungkook, his mouth open but no sound coming out, hot cum running through his fingers and landing on his stomach.
He’s still coming, feeling wonderful and dizzy when Jungkook groans deeply before leaning in, supporting himself with his lower arm on the beanbag right next to Jimin’s head while his other hand still grips Jimin’s ass. His thrusts start turning sloppy as Jimin’s legs continue jolting helplessly in the air with every single one. Soon he tenses, buries himself deep inside Jimin one final time and then follows him over the edge with gritted teeth, his cock throbbing over and over again.
When it’s over, he collapses right on top of Jimin, right into the mess on his stomach.
It takes a while for them to catch their breath, their heartbeats calming only slowly, beating rapidly against each other’s chests.
Jimin still feels dizzy and pretty out of it when Jungkook hoists himself up, looking down at him and Jimin can’t help but think that post-orgasm is a good look on Jungkook. It makes him look a bit softer, his eyes less vicious when they land on Jimin.
“You okay?”
Jimin nods and winces when Jungkook slowly pulls out of him.
“Can’t believe you still didn’t say ‘please’,” Jungkook huffs, sitting back on his knees, and looking around for something to wipe them down.
Jimin snickers.
“Would never,” he slurs, still a little bit tongue-tied after his orgasm.
He doesn’t remember much of what happens next. He remembers being wiped down and forced to put on his shirt and pants, even though he’d rather stay naked because surely, it’s not gonna get as cold tonight as Jungkook makes it seem to be.
He remembers falling asleep immediately.
He also remembers feeling incredibly well-rested when he wakes up the next morning next to a fast-asleep Jungkook. Incredibly well-rested and incredibly terrified.
Fuck. What have they done?
Jimin leaves Jungkook’s room in a hurry and as silently as possible, but not before collecting the condom and lube wrapping from Jungkook’s desk and inspecting the bean bag for any stains. When he doesn’t find any, he slips out of the room without looking back.
He runs into Jungkook’s mother on his way out, who lets him know that his parents are already next door – apparently, the power has been back for a few hours now – and Jimin smiles, thanking her for last night’s food, before leaving with the feeling of embarrassment deep inside the pit of his stomach and a heated face. At least it didn’t seem like Jungkook’s mother had any clue about what was going on last night.
He only feels like he can finally breathe again when he steps into his childhood home and the door falls shut behind him.
The next couple of days are rather unspectacular.
He visits his grandparents in the neighboring village for a day, meets up with some friends here and there, spends a lot of time with his parents…
Time flies by and he doesn’t see or hear from Jungkook even once. Either the other doesn’t leave his house ever or he’s not even home anymore. They never talked about what plans they had or how long they were even staying.
And Jimin doesn’t care. He really doesn’t. No matter what Jungkook is up to, Jimin should be happy that he’s finally out of his hair.
But still, every now and then, Jimin catches himself checking his phone, not necessarily waiting for a text from Jungkook but at least a sign of life. On Instagram, on Twitter… somewhere. But it’s like the other has disappeared from the Earth’s surface completely.
Okay, maybe Jimin does care a little bit. But how could he not when the sex was that good?
More often than he’d like to admit he thinks back to their night together, and every time he does, he gets hard embarrassingly fast.
Fuck, he thinks more than once while ice-cold water rains down on him in the shower. He might’ve had sex with Jungkook in Jungkook’s childhood home but he’s for sure not gonna jerk off to it in his own. He’ll rather keep torturing himself with blue balls and blue lips from cold showers.
Jimin is not the biggest fan of New Year’s Eve.
He hates the overwhelming social pressure that comes with it, the pressure that this one particular day has to be special, that you have to attend a party at night and that it has to be amazing. Usually, those parties are outrageously expensive and ridiculously underwhelming. You’re forced to have fun, which makes it less fun, and the act of cheering and hugging and wishing even strangers happy new year at midnight always feels extremely superficial to him.
This time is no different. He’s in no mood to party but Hoseok, one of his best friends from high school who lives in a city not far from their home town now, together with his kind of rich boyfriend, has invited him to a New Year’s Eve party in their admittedly amazing flat. And who is Jimin to say no when one of his best friends asks?
“Who are you going to kiss?”
“Huh?”
“At midnight,” Hoseok clarifies, his words already slurring a little bit, even though it’s not even 10pm. “You have to kiss someone. For good luck.”
Jimin raises an eyebrow.
“Never heard that one before,” he says and grabs another flute of champagne from a nearby table. He brings it to his lips and takes a huge sip but freezes when his eyes land on someone across the room. He stares, his mouth filled with sparkly liquid, waiting to be swallowed.
Jungkook is here.
Suddenly, he feels hot under his collar and when he finally swallows with difficulty, their eyes meet.
Shit, he should probably leave, right?
His grip on his glass almost slips when the other makes a beeline for them.
“Oh, Jungkook!” Hoseok exclaims and waves excitedly.
Jungkook is wearing a black button-up shirt tucked into black jeans and a belt with a simple golden buckle. It may seem rather basic, but his sleeves are rolled back, showing glimpses of his tattoos and the belt accentuates his narrow waist, the shirt stretching tightly over the muscles in his chest and shoulders.
He looks good and Jimin doesn’t miss the glances other people steal when he passes them until he’s coming to a halt in front of Hoseok and Jimin.
“Hi, Hobi. Thanks for the invite,” he says, giving the other one of those ridiculous bro-fistbumps. Then he turns to Jimin and Jimin’s heart flutters nervously when their eyes meet.
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
For a couple of seconds nobody says anything else and time seems to slow down, the music and chatter around them suddenly kind of far away. Jimin really has to resist the urge to ogle the other. He really does look good.
Suddenly, Jimin is kind of embarrassed. At the fact that he just left that next morning, that he didn’t text him afterwards. To be fair though, Jungkook didn’t text him either. And why should they even text each other? They hate each other's guts. Right?
Only when Hoseok speaks up again does Jimin slam back into reality.
“Did you find the spot in the parking garage I booked for you?”
Jungkook slowly turns to look at him. “Huh? Ah, yeah, thanks for that!”
Jimin is kind of amazed at the fact that the building has its own parking garage where you can book parking spots for guests.
“And you really don’t wanna drink? You know you can stay the night.”
Jungkook shakes his head. “Nah, it’s fine.” He smiles, a look that Jimin doesn't see him wear often. It’s kind of cute. “Your alcohol-free cocktail selection isn’t bad either.”
Hoseok beams, going on about them hiring someone to help them with their catering and Jimin zones out a little bit, nodding here and there but not really paying attention, busy stealing glances at Jungkook.
“So, who are you going to kiss, Jungkook?” Hoseok asks and that’s when Jimin perks up.
“I- What?”
“Your midnight kiss. Who is it going to be?”
Jungkook frowns. “What midnight kiss?”
Hoseok throws his hands in the air, acting like both of them are lost causes.
“You guys, you need to kiss someone at midnight for good luck! Are you not wearing red underwear either?!”
Jimin blinks. “Red underwear?”
Hoseok gawks at him. “For good luck!”
“My underwear is black,” Jimin says slowly, then his eyes flicker to Jungkook who is already looking at him and instantly his cheeks are on fire again. He brings the glass to his lips to drink the last remnants of champagne.
“Not that it’s any of your guys’ business,” he mumbles into the glass.
Hoseok sighs. “You’re really- Oh!” He perks up. “There’s Yoongi!”
And in a whirlwind of movements, he’s gone.
Jimin stares at Jungkook and Jungkook stares back, his expression weirdly neutral.
“Mine is also black.”
Jimin snorts. “Who would’ve guessed,” he says, looking Jungkook’s black outfit up and down.
With a roll of eyes, Jungkook crosses his arms. “Your outfit doesn’t scream colorful either.”
Jimin is wearing black leather pants – that he knows make his butt pop – and a white turtleneck. He shrugs.
“Never said it did.”
They are staring at each other for another moment, the awkwardness almost palpable.
“Well— have fun then,” Jimin says eventually and turns to escape the situation.
“Yep, you too.”
Jimin can’t escape Jungkook.
No matter where he is or whom he talks to, his eyes keep wandering, scanning the room as if on autopilot, searching.
And he always finds him.
Whether he catches him talking animatedly to other people or standing in the corner typing away on his phone with a slight crease in his brow and a small pout on his lips, each time Jimin looks at him he gets a weird type of flutter in his stomach, a feeling so annoying and confusing that he doesn’t know how to deal with it.
Every now and then their eyes lock and every time it happens, Jimin’s gaze shoots away instantly. Only to look back a couple of seconds later. Jungkook is always still looking at him.
It keeps going like this the entire time. Jimin watches Jungkook without even wanting to and Jungkook watches him. Jimin could be imagining things but to him, it almost seems as if they are following each other around. Maybe it’s an unconscious thing and the fact that both of them don’t seem to know many people here doesn’t help.
It’s pretty close to midnight when Jimin gets kind of restless inside.
The guests have all gathered outside on Hoseok’s ridiculously large roof terrace. They are so far up that they can’t even hear the traffic from the street below, the sky is clear and apparently, there is supposed to be a big firework in about a minute.
Only a minute until midnight.
“At midnight you need to kiss someone. For good luck.”
Jimin scoffs under his breath, standing in the middle of a crowd of strangers, people he doesn’t know, if anything just from passing. Suddenly, he feels a bit lonely. But that is nothing new, he always gets weirdly sentimental right before the new year rolls around.
He steps to the side, more towards the back and a bit out of the crowd, feeling somewhat out of place.
And that’s when their eyes meet again.
Jungkook looks at him from the other side of the terrace, having stepped back from the crowd as well. He, too, is alone.
“At midnight you need to kiss someone. For good luck.”
Jimin’s fingers twitch. He’s cold, having forgotten to put his jacket on before stepping outside.
“Ten!”
The crowd starts to shout.
“Nine!”
Jimin sighs and lets his eyes travel over the strangers.
“Eight!”
Then back to Jungkook.
“Seven!”
He’s still looking at him, his expression unreadable.
“At midnight you need to kiss someone. For good luck.”
“Six!”
They are still staring at each other.
“Five!”
Jimin doesn’t know who moves first, but suddenly, they are walking towards each other.
“Four!”
Their pace is slow at first, almost hesitant.
“Three!”
Then faster until Jimin is almost jogging.
“Two!”
They are right in front of each other and suddenly, there are hands around his waist, tugging on him until their chests are pressed together.
“One!”
Their mouths find one another.
“Happy New Year!”
The fireworks go off and Jungkook’s lips are warm and soft, so soft, but also so in control, so commanding. He moves against Jimin with determined passion, his hands on Jimin’s waist flexing.
Heat pools between Jimin’s legs as he pushes against Jungkook, pushes hard with his lips, with his tongue, his hand slipping around his neck, and he tugs him closer.
He pushes and pulls and Jungkook pushes and pulls too, as if they’re dancing. They press, they tilt, they breathe, over and over again. It’s slow and intense and Jimin can hear the drum of his blood in his ears that drowns out the fireworks and cheering people, can feel the tiny puffs of breath against his wet lips when Jungkook draws back for air, only for a heartbeat, before leaning in again.
Jungkook tastes of sugary cocktails and Jimin sighs as he catches Jungkook's lower lip with his teeth, pulling teasingly before their tongues slide together again. There is a hot heaviness between his legs and every nerve ending in his body seems to crackle to life when Jungkook’s hands slide from his waist and lower, to his hips, then around to his ass.
He pulls Jimin closer until their hips are pressed together.
They don’t stop.
People around them are slowly leaving the cold and windy terrace now, disappearing inside where the music has picked up again, but Jimin and Jungkook are still kissing and Jimin doesn’t want it to end.
He can’t decide where he wants to touch Jungkook, his fingers finding their way into the other’s hair, before sliding back down over his neck to his shoulders, where he buries them in the fabric of his shirt almost desperately.
After a while, Jungkook pulls back.
“Happy New Year,” he murmurs.
“Happy New Year,” Jimin replies breathlessly.
That’s all they say before their lips gravitate towards each other again, their tongues sliding together. It’s wet and warm and soft and Jimin gets completely lost in it all over again, the heat between his legs building, his heartbeat quickening rapidly.
Suddenly he’s dizzy, but not from alcohol. He’s dizzy with want.
“Jungkook,” he whispers against the other's mouth.
Jungkook makes a questioning sound but doesn’t stop kissing him.
“Jungkook,” Jimin says again, pulling back this time, looking into the other’s glazed eyes. His heart is hammering so fast he can feel it all the way up inside his throat and he knows his cheeks are pink from the cold but also from what he’s about to say next.
He licks his lips and when he speaks up it’s merely a whisper.
“...Please.”
The word tastes of hot embarrassment and when Jungkook only stares at him blankly for a heartbeat, Jimin wants to sink into the floor and disappear.
But then understanding lights up in the younger’s eyes before they turn incredibly dark.
Fucking in a car isn’t as easy or sexy as porn makes it out to be. The space is too small for two bodies moving around and it feels cramped, but Jimin doesn’t complain.
He’s so blissed out already that he doesn’t even remember how they got here. He faintly remembers being inside the elevator to the parking garage and suddenly being pressed against Jungkook’s car with a thick thigh between his legs before being ushered inside, crawling into the back ungracefully.
Undressing is a mess of wiggling and bending and tugging and they end up leaving most of their clothes on, only managing to pull Jimin’s tight pants off completely and Jungkook’s over his butt and just down to his thighs.
Jimin is rock-hard already but Jungkook is too, which makes it less embarrassing.
There is a lot of kissing and touching and rubbing against one another and Jimin feels amazing, already pulled taut and tight and almost ready to snap when Jungkook slides a lubed finger into him at an awkward angle, reaching behind him while Jimin is straddling his lap, Jungkook’s length resting heavily against his inner thigh.
Jimin gasps and pants into the other’s neck as he’s being stretched and the sudden realization that this time he can be loud has him moan in satisfaction.
When Jungkook pulls out two condoms, Jimin raises an eyebrow.
“Ambitious much?”
Jungkook chuckles, his eyes glinting.
“The second one is for you. Don’t think I didn’t notice the mess you made last time.”
He gives Jimin’s cock a gentle flick and as if on cue, a bead of precum starts forming. Jimin tenses when Jungkook collects it with a fingertip and holds his finger up for Jimin to see, before leaning in.
“Having you all needy like this is hot, but I don’t wanna get my car dirty,” he mumbles against Jimin’s lips, his wet finger circling the tip of his cock now.
Jimin gasps and then lands a punch to Jungkook’s upper arm, putting extra knuckles into it, his face burning.
“Shut up and get to it.”
Jungkook only snickers but Jimin can’t be annoyed for much longer when the other grabs the condoms and gets to work. His spread thighs jitter where he’s sitting on top of Jungkook when the condom is rolled over his length, his fingers straining when, a short while later, Jungkook’s tip nudges his rim.
Then he’s being stretched open as Jungkook slowly presses into him. Jimin moans loudly, his fingers tugging Jungkook’s head back by his hair before plunging his tongue into his mouth and it doesn’t take long for Jungkook to bury himself fully inside him.
They get to it right away.
In a mix of rolling and thrusting they move inside and around each other, fingers digging into skin and tangling in hair, teeth grazing each other’s lips, breaths intermingling.
It doesn’t take long for the windows to fog up and for sweat to collect in Jimin’s nape, his heart racing inside his chest. The lewd sounds of fucking, a mix of ragged breathing, moans and skin slapping against skin is loud in the confined space, making Jimin’s face heat up more and more by the minute.
“Fuck— love fucking you—” Jungkook groans after a while. “So good–”
Jimin laughs breathlessly. “Complimenting me? Are you okay?”
Jungkook moans at another roll of hips.
“More than okay.”
“Could’ve fooled me. Thought you hated me–”
“Oh, I do,” Jungkook gasps, his grip on Jimin’s waist almost bruising. “I fucking do, but— you keep me going and—and you keep me grounded. You’re the only– the only real competition, the only one worthy— fuck, do that again—”
Jimin rolls his hips a second time in a way that has Jungkook gasp like that. He has trouble focusing on what they’re talking about, his head too hazy, his mind too full of the heat of Jungkook’s skin against his own, his body too determined to draw these amazing sounds from the other again and again and again.
“Yeah, just like that— Oh shit—” Jungkook lets his head fall back. And then he throws a log on the fire in Jimin’s stomach:
“Good boy.”
Jimin groans, his thighs clenching.
“For the love of God— Shut up—”
A grin spreads on Jungkook’s face and he looks at Jimin through half-lidded eyes, with his head still against the backrest.
“But you’re so good for me.”
“I said shut the fuck up—”
“Hmm—” He runs his hand across Jimin’s front over his shirt, pinching his nipple, then further up all the way to his throat where it holds him gently, his thumb rubbing over Jimin’s pulse point. “Do you wanna be punished instead of praised?”
Jimin shudders and groans, overflowing with heat. “I swear to God— This can’t happen again if you– if you keep talking corny shit–”
Before he realizes what he just said and what it implies, Jungkook’s hand is in his nape, pulling him in for a deep kiss.
After that, Jimin loses all track of time.
He can only focus on the hot tension spreading throughout his body, feels it centering in his lower stomach and it’s driving him insane, slowly making him lose his mind as he works his hips. He’s already close, so fucking close.
It smells damp around them. Damp and so much of sex that he can almost taste it on his tongue.
He knows his moans are getting more and more desperate, but Jungkook doesn’t seem to fare any better. His thrusts turn sloppy, his moans strangled, his grip on Jimin slipping.
“Jimin- fuck— so-so close–”
“Yeah,” Jimin breathes. It’s all he can manage.
Only a moment later he catches sight of Jungkook throwing his head back, exposing the column of his throat, jaw clenched tightly. Only a heartbeat later his lips fall open, a loud moan tearing from his throat, and then he’s arching, coming into the condom, his cock throbbing violently inside Jimin.
The sight of Jungkook coming, the sounds he makes and the feeling of his thick length twitching inside him has the heat in Jimin’s stomach grow and intensify, to the point where it’s almost too much.
“Fuck,” he whimpers and brings his hand down to give his own length a squeeze and immediately his body goes rigid, all his muscles locking and finally something snaps and he’s overflowing, throbbing, shaking, blinded by white pleasure.
“F- ah! Jungkookie, Jungkookie—” he whines, as his orgasm tears through him in waves, the name of endearment that everyone, including himself, used to call Jungkook when they were children tumbling from his lips over and over again until the words turn into broken moans and then short gasps.
Only slowly, his orgasm ebbs away until it’s nothing but simmering aftershocks that curse through his body.
He breathes hard as he slumps into Jungkook’s chest, pressing his face into his damp neck.
It takes some time for both of them to move and Jimin winces when Jungkook pulls out, pulling the condom off carefully and tying it, before doing the same to Jimin’s. Then he yanks Jimin against his chest again, massaging his nape firmly, the fingertips of his other hand trailing up and down Jimin’s spine.
Jimin purrs, all floaty and content, and soon he feels like he could get hard again.
He actually does and Jungkook does too.
“Condom—,” Jimin gasps between breathless kisses, rutting in the other’s lap.
“I’m clean.”
“Me too, but you said the mess-”
“Fuck it.”
“Fuck– Okay—”
Jungkook pushes back inside and Jimin takes it.
He lets Jungkook fuck him again, clinging to his broad shoulders, whining and whimpering into his damp neck, his cock rubbing over the fabric that’s covering Jungkook’s hard abs with each thrust until he comes a second time, violent and loud, in the other’s arms.
Who would’ve thought Jeon Jungkook would be the best fuck of Jimin’s life?
When it’s over, they both are a spent jittering mess.
“Nobody has ever known me the way you do,” Jungkook suddenly mumbles into Jimin’s hair and Jimin’s brain takes a while to register the words. “That ugly competitive side of me.”
“It really is ugly.”
“Shut up. Yours isn’t pretty either.”
“I know.”
Jimin doesn’t really know why he does it.
He doesn’t know what came over him when he tells Jungkook he’ll ride the car back to campus with him if he wants to. He doesn’t know why Jungkook actually agrees and he can’t believe what he’s doing when he really does cancel his flight and then slips into the familiar passenger seat of Jungkook’s car a few days later.
As usual, his lap is full of snacks and sweets and only half an hour into the drive he starts indulging in one of his favorite snacks, fully aware that he’s getting crumbs all over the place and yet deliberately ignoring Jungkook’s disapproving glares: Salt chips dipped in Nutella. Yes, he brought Nutella. And did he bring it solely to annoy Jungkook? Yes.
Jungkook side-eyes the way Jimin pushes a Nutella-covered chip into his mouth.
“Chips with Nutella? That’s disgusting.”
Jimin glares at him.
“You probably never even tried it.”
He takes a chip and dips it into the chocolate cream, before holding it out to the other.
“Say ahh.”
Jungkook scoffs. “I’m not gonna put that shit in my body.”
Jimin groans. “You’re such a health freak, it’s fucking annoying. A little bit is fine. You should treat yourself to something every now and then. Just something small.”
Jungkook raises an eyebrow.
“Something small, huh?” He looks Jimin up and down from the corner of his eye with a grin.
Jimin stares at him long and hard, heat rising in his cheeks.
“Did you just call me short?”
“Wha- you’re putting words in my mouth!”
“I do not, you clearly said I’m short!”
“I indicated that you’re small!”
“Same fucking difference, I’m not small!”
“You absolutely fucking are!”
Jimin rolls his eyes.
“So annoying,” he mumbles, pushing the sweet and salty snack into his own mouth, but his body betrays him and his lips quirk up into a little smile while he chews, giving away the fact that he’s maybe kind of enjoying this.
Jungkook sees it, of course, and his expression turns somewhat satisfied before he focuses on the road again.
And if Jimin’s hand finds its way to Jungkook’s thigh during their trip back, that’s only their business.
And if Jungkook grabs said hand with his own, stroking his thumb softly over the back of it, then that’s only their business too.
And if they sleep with each other again, a few days later in Jungkook’s dorm room, that’s also only their business.
And if they keep doing it and Jimin asks him out on a date after the fifth time and if Jungkook agrees to said date and if the dates keep happening… You guessed it - that’s only their business as well.
Just as it’s only their business that, when next Christmas rolls around, they visit their parents again.
Not by car this time but officially… as a couple.
The ‘chaos-couple’ people call them.
And you know what? Jimin thinks it’s quite fitting.
4 years later…
“Where’s the box with my video games?”
“I don’t know, you carried your shit up yourself,” Jimin says with his back to Jungkook, unwrapping their new plates carefully.
“And you kept moving my shit around, that's why I can't find anything!”
With one look over his shoulder Jimin spots the box in question. “It’s right there, two feet away from you.”
“Ah! Found it!”
Jimin turns back to resume unpacking the plates. “What would you do without me?”
“Moving apartments without constant nagging in the background,” Jungkook retorts.
“You are aware that we wouldn’t be moving together at all, if it wasn’t for me asking you in the first place?”
“Don’t get it twisted, we agreed on that together.”
“Yes, but I was the first to ask.”
“Well, good for you, but I was the first to confess back then!”
Jimin puts the final plate on the shelf.
“That has nothing to do with it.” He closes the cupboard, wondering if Jungkook will ever let him live it down that he beat Jimin to saying ‘I love you’ first. “Besides, I was the first to ask you on a date back then, so I win.”
When he turns around swiftly and his eyes land on Jungkook he freezes, a gasp getting stuck in his throat. His boyfriend is on the floor in front of him, on one knee, holding up a small blue box. It’s open and there is a silver ring inside.
“And I’m the first to propose. I win.”
Jungkook’s expression is stubborn, his glasses a little crooked, his cheeks and the tips of his ears flushed and Jimin can tell he’s nervous from the way his beautiful hands holding the box tremble slightly.
Heat surges into Jimin’s face, right alongside the tears that surge into his eyes, a fluttery feeling spreading in his chest.
“You idiot,” he mumbles before he throws himself into Jungkook’s arms, knocking him over until they are on the floor in a mess of tangled limbs and frantic kisses.
“You didn’t give me an answer,” Jungkook breathes against his lips after a while.
“Because you haven’t asked any questions yet.”
Jungkook draws back and glares at him, although it reminds Jimin more of a pout. Then he yanks the ring out of the box, bringing it up to Jimin's face.
“Will you fucking marry me, you fucking menace?”
Jimin blurts out a laugh, the flutter in his chest increasing tenfold, and holds his ring finger out.
“Yes, I will fucking marry you.”
The ring is warm and smooth as it slides over his finger, just as warm and smooth as Jungkook’s lips kissing him once more only a heartbeat later.
As Jimin runs his hands through Jungkook’s hair he decides that, for now, he won’t tell the other about the ring – hidden between his socks in one of the moving boxes – that he bought quite a few months ago; decides that, for now, he won’t tell Jungkook that he was planning on asking the big question after they’ve settled into their new place and that he’s probably been thinking about marrying him for a lot longer than Jungkook has.
For now, he will let him have this.
Because, technically, Jungkook really did win this one.