Work Text:
“What about today?”
Jimin walks in with calculated precision, eyes darting around to be sure today, as every other day, he is in fact alone when asking the security guy at the front of his office building for sex. Like he’s used to do.
Yoongi looks good in his uniform. Fuck, no, he looks like he should be fucking Jimin, that’s what he looks like. Like Jimin should be choking on his surely big cock.
Oh yeah, nice thoughts to have on the sixth hour into the day. Like any other person coming to the office in slacks and a white shirt, Jimin is also thinking about it. About the security guy fucking him. In the subway, earphones on, and a Sonata playing.
Nothing better than that.
“Good morning, sir.” Jimin rolls his eyes and his sleeves, the jacket of his blue suit on his arm, while he fixes his tie, looking at himself through the glass next to the door. There are many suitable mirrors in this big building, shiny glass big enough for him to see his whole outfit.
But invading Yoongi’s space, that’s a whole different thing. He gets to sense his warmth, the cologne he wears, the way his breaths are controlled into his puffed chest. And ruffling his hair right there, striking blonde strands messy on purpose on his head, putting on his subtle lip gloss, sighing excessively…
He likes this. A little too much. Especially since Yoongi doesn’t give in.
It started as a joke. As a way of making the tension less thick in the air as Jimin ranted about being sexually frustrated a little too loudly in the corridor, because Taehyung insisted he needed the toilet right there and then and couldn’t wait the entire subway ride home to go.
In Jimin’s defense, it was late. Like, very late. Like, company hours ended an hour earlier late. And nobody else was there. Only the security guard, Yoongi, who was doing his job, rounding the building.
As Jimin rambled about how he needed even just a one-night stand, he can’t pretend he didn’t think about the guy. He was buff, he was hot, and he had a big cock. Not that he had seen it, of course. It is a feeling, you know? When you see a guy, and you want a guy, and he has that aura that tells you Oh, look at me and my big cock. Shit like that. Pretentious fuckers.
Even if he did think about the guy and his hot body, Jimin wasn’t expecting to be telling – yelling at, more like it – Taehyung how he just needed to be fucked and edged until he pleaded with someone else around. Not, like, right behind him.
“I just need something. Some motion in this boring life. You know? I am horny. I am needy. I have necessities. I can’t continue with this lonely confinement of hand jobs on myself. I need someone to fuck me. I would take anybody at this point, Tae, anybody. Anybody! You see, I don’t-”
Taehyung was saying something from the bathroom, but the sound of a fallen object in his proximity made Jimin stop in his ramble, arms folded on his chest. Turning his head towards the sound, Jimin saw it. Saw him, his coffee splattered on the ground, and his usual pale cheeks turned pink in the dimly lit hallway.
And that was it.
That was enough for him.
He just thought, hell yeah. That’s it. That’s the guy.
Because how pink would those cheeks go if Jimin were to be mounting on his cock?
So, from that moment on, after a brief excuse said in an unconvinced tone, Jimin only looked at him with eyes calculating the possibilities, while his back muscles showed, rippling under his tight shirt, and his tie danced in front of him while he cleaned the floor from his wasted coffee.
“Is that another no, mister Min?”
He bats his eyes at him, head tilted just the slightest forward with a small pout on, while he tightens his tie slightly, watching his coworkers begin to walk towards the building. Yoongi, his name shining under the first strong rays of the sun, only blinks at him, his eyes serious under the black hair peeking from his snapback.
“You’re no fun, really. I will try tomorrow. Good work, Mr. Serious Guy.”
He hisses with no venom at him, turning to go to his office, his badge pinned to his chest. Making a point in folding enough to show off his ass, Jimin clocks in, eyes darting to the security guy.
And there he is. Staring at his ass.
Victories. Small, yes, but still victories.
Jimin walks like a multimillionaire man to the elevators, getting into the one facing the glass, the rotating door that serves as the building’s entrance. When he presses the button to get to his floor, Jimin locks eyes with Yoongi.
And smirks.
So that he knows that Jimin knows.
Victories.
-
“I told you. He stared at my ass. Directly.” A piece of bread falls onto the table from Taehyung’s hands, and Jimin watches him take it and eat it, no shame in his actions. He makes a disgusted face in his direction.
“Builds character.”
“The only thing that this revolting practice is doing is building up your immune system.”
“That’s good. Why would he stare at your ass?”
“Why not, Taehyung, that’s the question.” He gets closer, signaling Taehyung to do the same. His friend slides his hand on the table to get the sandwich out of the fire line. “You see, I have one hell of an ass.”
Retracting to look at him from the back of his chair, Jimin waits for Taehyung’s response with a victorious smile on his face. Taehyung stays still on the table for a couple of seconds more, munching his food.
When he gets back, he nods slightly, eyebrows raised as he inspects his sandwich for the perfect next bite. “What?”
“Bullshits.”
“What!? My ass!? Are you saying my ass is not great!?”
The cafeteria, at the peak of its busiest hour, gets quieter instantly, with many faces turning towards the shriek Jimin just let out. Taehyung munches calmly on another beastly bite of his sandwich. Jimin smiles his excuses at his coworkers, sheepishly.
“I didn’t say that.”
“You basically did.”
“No, I didn’t. I do think your ass is great. I just said bullshits.”
“To my ass being fire!”
“No, to the fact that he stared at it.”
Jimin bangs his head on the hands he has flat on the table. Just because he doesn’t want his coworkers to look at him again. “Tae, I’m telling you. I smirked at him from the elevator, and he blushed.”
“How can you know? It’s far.”
“Not that far.”
Taehyung flaps his hand – the one free from the sandwich – in the air, debating Jimin’s idea.
“Tae, I’m sure, trust me. We’re almost there.”
“There where? I don’t see how him saying the same thing he says every day to you makes it almost there.”
“But listen”, he gets closer again. Taehyung remains still, eating the last part of his lunch. Jimin hasn’t touched his yet. “He looked at my ass. He stared at my ass.”
Taehyung bites half of the last piece of his sandwich, cleaning the crumbs on his slacks and pointing a finger in Jimin’s direction. Jimin winces in pain at the sight of his pants.
“It has been four months.”
“Three and a half.”
“Jimin, in three days it will be four.” Jimin rolls his eyes. Taehyung nods, solemn.
“What makes you think it will change today?”
“Not today! Maybe tomorrow.”
Taehyung takes a long sip of his overly sweetened coffee with whipped cream on top. He sighs.
“Baby, I would love to see you relieve this sexual tension cloud you bring everywhere you go, really.”
Jimin narrows his eyes, watching him put back in his bag the last bite of his sandwich, like a freaking psycho. Who leaves the last bite only?
“You sound like you’re going to say something with a but before just now.”
“But don’t you think you can find someone else? Do you really have to go after the one and only person who’s ever said no to you?” Taehyung plays with the straw in his drink. Jimin grabs the overly caloric thing from his fingers, drinking a bit of it. Disgusting, just like Taehyung likes his drinks. He smiles at his friend, interrupting his upcoming rant before it can even start.
“That’s the thing, you know?” Taehyung furrows his eyebrows deeper.
“What?”
Jimin stands up, watching the clock scream at them that their lunch break’s over.
“He never said no.”
-
The days go by the same every day. The meetings are boring, and the small talks consume Jimin to the bone. But at least he knows he can fantasize about those offices being used in very creative, alternative ways, during office hours.
Those desks are sturdy. Wood thick, good planted legs, easy to clean from clutter, and other things, for the matter. The chairs’ backs reclining make his mouth water. Good way to ride someone.
“Mr. Park? Mr. Park, are you listening?”
Jimin snaps back to reality, back straightening instantly from his reclined state on the chair, which bumps on his head on its way up. “Fuck… shit, sorry. Damn.”
He looks at his colleague with a shy smile, soothing the back of his head with a hand. She giggles next to him, leaning forward on his desk with her hips clad in her pencil skirt. She puts some papers on the table, and Jimin tries to blink away the images that shouldn’t be on his mind to concentrate.
“Thank you. I’ll tend to these as soon as possible.”
She leaves, smiling at him one more time. Jimin sighs.
The workday tires him, but not enough to be careless when exiting the building. He has someone to charm, after all.
Taehyung walks up to his desk while Jimin is adjusting his hair, watching himself on his computer's black screen. “What are you doing?”
“Readjusting my hair to my liking.”
“Your liking.” Jimin shoots a glance at him, arms resting on Jimin’s small dividers.
“I don’t know his liking. I don’t even know if he’s into men, to be honest”, thinks out loud Jimin, readjusting papers on his desk.
“I hate being your friend”, says Taehyung, pushing himself away from Jimin’s desk, beginning to walk away with his hands in his pockets. Jimin throws one of his pens at him, hitting him on the back of his head.
“I’m stealing it!”
“Whatever! Wait for me!”
They get down in the elevator together, Jimin applying his gloss again. Under the street lights, it shines better.
“So, I just asked him, plain. Flat. Where did you put it?”
“The pair of boxers.”
“Yes! The pair of boxes with fries on them. I love them. They're very comfy, you know? You wouldn’t know.”
Jimin stares at him through the mirror. “I wouldn’t.”
“Oh, you and your little security guard boy. Damn you. So unfunny.”
“I am not unfunny. I just have to do this.”
“Why are you so fixated on him anyway?”
With a pop coming from his lips, smacking together, Jimin turns to face the elevator’s doors opening.
“There’s something about him, Taehyung. I want him. And the fact that he doesn’t give me what I want?” The doors of the elevator open, and Jimin looks at Taehyung with a smile curving his glossed lips. “Oh, that’s the best part.”
Jimin walks with fake confidence through the gates. It is all fake, he is acting the part, because there is no way he’s backing up. He wants the man. He wants to hear his name from his lips, moaned low and guttural into his ear while their skins touch. Kiss him on the neck, leaving the shirt on, the tie on his neck, while he trails down, lower and lower.
The badge beeps while Jimin walks, eyes locked on the blue shirt he’s wearing, the shiny small name tag, the way his pants fit his legs. He is almost there, almost talking to him, when someone pushes him aside, running towards the same target Jimin located for himself.
“Oppa! Oppa!”
Oh, damn fuck.
Is he really straight, then? And he has a whole ass girlfriend!? Taehyung slows down next to Jimin.
“Ma’am.”
“Do I look that old to you?”
She tilts her head cutely, and Jimin wants to run away. Why would Yoongi not say he is taken for four months? He starts to walk again, but he can’t stop looking. Not when Yoongi’s dark eyes, under the snapback with the security logo on top, are looking at him.
“I’m sorry, miss.”
“C’mon, go out with me! Please, oppa?”
She hugs his arm, and Yoongi freezes, eyes fixated now on her face, close.
“Miss.”
“Oppa!”
“Miss, please, don’t. I am…”
Jimin is almost stepping into the rotating glass door. He just has to wait until the glass slides away and the opening is in front of him. A small group of whispering colleagues is now pooling next to the doors.
“One dinner! You can take me to one dinner and that’s it! You’ll like me, I’m sure!”
“Miss, I am not interested.”
“Oh, how can you know, oppa? I’m sure I-“
Jimin enters the revolving door, Taehyung already patting him on the back.
“Miss, I’m not interested in women.”
Almost tripping on his own feet, Jimin whips his head so fast towards Taehyung that it almost hurts him. “Did you hear the same thing I’ve heard, or am I blind?”
Taehyung hooks his arm around Jimin’s, gritting his teeth while he drags Jimin towards the subway.
“Yes, I did, and what does that even mean? How does being blind correlate? Let’s go.”
The ride in the subway is silent, for Jimin. Meaning he doesn’t hear anything coming from outside his little bubble, even if Taehyung talks his ear off about his life and how perfect it is.
“What?”
“What?” replies Taehyung, hanging on one of the poles not to fall. Jimin raises his head towards him from his seat.
“You were saying something. I’ve heard something that obviously caught my attention.”
“Maybe I said the magic word. Yoongi.”
Jimin blinks up at him before looking outside the glass at the black walls of the subway tunnel.
“No more Yoongi talk, Taehyung. I’m done.”
Taehyung falls dramatically on the free seat next to Jimin, almost pushing the old lady who had just risen from it. He earns a side eye from this, and Jimin agrees with her.
“You? Giving up? On Yoongi!?”
“Yeah.”
“You just figured out he is not straight, and you give up!?”
“Yeah. Exactly for that.”
With his bag nestled on his leg, Taehyung drags a hand on his face. “Care to explain?”
“If he’s not straight and he keeps saying no, then it’s just a no, Taehyung.”
He turns to face his friend, who stares at him like he just stabbed a puppy. “Jimin, you asked him for sex inside the work building where both of you are employed. Who the fuck would say yes, sure, let’s go?”
“That’s my stop.”
Jimin stands up, getting closer to the doors, looking back at Taehyung’s exasperated face.
“I will throw myself under one of those trains soon if you don’t stop dragging your gay, sexually frustrated aura everywhere, Jimin.”
With a hand waving goodbye, Jimin exits the carriage, looking back at Taehyung until he is gone with the metal train.
The night goes on quietly, in Jimin’s apartment. He moved away from the house he shared with Taehyung when he got with Jungkook and their sex life became unbearable, so the house he comes back to is always dark and empty. Which would be great for an eventual hook-up. But Jimin hasn’t had one in forever.
He doesn’t feel like having dinner, or showering, or sleeping either, but he does the first two easily, muscle memory at its finest. The third one? That doesn’t come easily.
Thoughts flood his veins and brain, keeping his heart beating fast and eyes moving behind his eyelids. Fuck.
Okay, so, if he’s straight, then it’s okay for him to say no, but why wouldn’t he say he’s straight so Jimin can move on?
But he said he isn’t straight. The exact opposite. He doesn’t like ladies, and if that’s bad news for them, Jimin is very happy.
But he’s also not, because if he’s gay and he’s not saying yes, he doesn’t like Jimin as he is.
He never said no specifically, though, right?
Jimin grunts loudly, wrapping a pillow around his face just to muffle a scream. Rest. Sleep. That’s what he has to do.
Just that.
But when the clock says it’s already 1 AM and he has to get up in four hours, he knows he’s not sleeping anytime soon.
Getting up with a blanket on his shoulders, Jimin paddles to the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil some water for his melatonin chamomile. That’s what he is retorting to, at this point.
-
It has no effect whatsoever.
Fuck.
It’s 2 AM. He’s blasting white noises and using his comfiest sleeping mask. He needs to be knocked down.
And that’s not about sleep.
Jimin can’t stop thinking about it. About him. About his body, clad in a shirt that becomes more and more tight every day on his chest, constricting his biceps deliciously. About the way he has his thumbs hooked on the belt loops of his pants, the ones that don’t hide the bulge of his cock, and God, how bad does Jimin want to get on his knees and not stop sucking until he begs him to.
Rising from his bed, Jimin gets ready, soon, because it’s late.
Entering his office is weird, because Yoongi looks at him right as he enters. He never does.
“Good morning”, says Jimin, and Yoongi doesn’t stop staring at him.
“Jimin.”
God, that’s how his name comes out of his pretty lips? Jimin’s obsessed. Wants to hear it again. He smiles at him.
“How come you say my name, today? Is today the day?”
“Yes.”
Whoa, what? Jimin doesn’t have time to think that, because Yoongi removes his snapback, throwing it away while he is at it, grabbing Jimin by his waist.
It doesn’t make sense, but Jimin doesn’t care while Yoongi’s hands are on his chest, pressing on his skin through the shirt Jimin ironed this morning. Did he?
“Come here.”
Jimin complies, getting closer, until Yoongi’s lips are a mere breath away from him. When he kisses his neck, Jimin’s knees get wobbly, and he has to rest his hands on his shoulders to keep himself straight. He never thought it’d be like that, so fast-paced, at the entrance, where everybody could come in at any second, and the clock rings and dings on his bedside table.
What?
Jimin opens his hazed eyes to his ceiling. And his ears to the sound of Taehyung’s ringtone on his phone.
The phone that almost hits the floor as Jimin scrambles to get it in between his hands.
“What? Hello? What?”
“Jimin? Are you awake?”
“Sure! Was toasting my butt.”
Taehyung stays silent for a beat on the other side of the line, while Jimin gets up and looks over at his clock. Oh, nice. 5.45 AM.
It’s not like he should already be on the subway.
“You were what?”
“What?”
Jimin has the phone on the bed while he picks some clothes (random ones, he cries in his head about his lost dignity) from the dresser, putting on mismatched socks and grabbing his tie while brushing his teeth.
Taehyung chuckles. “You said you were toasting your butt.”
Jimin halts on the way to the bathroom, a shoe in his hand. Running to the sink, he spits the remains of the toothpaste and briefly looks at the face in the mirror and its deep, dark circles. Sigh. He’s been perfect all the days he wanted to charm Yoongi until now. And that’s all because he said he’s not straight? Fuck.
“I was what?”
“Toasting my butt?”
“Ah. Maybe I meant buttering my toast.”
“Were you?”
Jimin grabs the phone, leaving one of his shoes untied. Who cares. He will manage. “No, of course not. I haven’t even brushed my hair, gosh. I hate this. I’m going to the subway now.”
“Oh? You’re going to be late, finally.”
“Bye, Tae.”
He doesn’t let his best friend say anything before hanging up. Opening the door, Jimin realizes two things, looking at his outfit in the full-length mirror hanging next to it: he would need a full face of makeup to fix his messed-up dark circles, and he has a boner.
Oh.
Right.
He was dreaming about Yoongi.
Fuck.
-
The ride on the subway sucks, but more than that, the walk of shame to his office building is worse. Jimin holds the tie in his hand to hide the hideous way he has tied it up, and walks fast, head down. How can he look in Yoongi’s eyes today and do the same thing he does every other day? He can’t.
Frozen in front of the rotating door, Jimin catches glimpses of the nest he has on his head today. To save the slightest bit of his ass, he at least knows his colleagues are already all inside. But that’s just because he is late as fuck, and that only means he will have nobody to be between him and Yoongi.
Well. What can he do? Run. He can run. He will.
He walks fast inside, tightening his grip on the tie like that will save him. This day already sucks, and it started twenty minutes ago, to be generous.
Jimin won’t turn to Yoongi. He won’t look.
But in the rotating doors, he can’t run, so his eyes do the job for him, and run in his place, watching Yoongi as he checks his watch briefly, eyes returning soon to the door. Jimin lowers his gaze, hand gripping harder the tie, feet soon moving fast to make the torture less heavy on his poor, shattered dignity.
“Sir.”
His voice.
Damn.
If Jimin ignores him long enough, he will successfully run away.
“Mr. Park.”
Fuck, that’s him. Jimin slows down just a bit, but keeps walking. He hears sounds of footsteps behind him, but he doesn’t turn around.
“Jimin.”
Oh, no.
Oh, oh no.
Jimin halts in his steps so fast that he almost gives himself whiplash. He can’t turn around. He can’t face him. But he specifically called his name.
There aren’t other Mr. Park Jimins in this building. And there is nobody else here, either. Jimin presses his lips into a thin line. And turns around, even if just by a small notch.
Yoongi slows his footsteps down too close to Jimin for comfort, at least this morning. Jimin wants to be swallowed whole, and today this’s not about sex. That’s about Earth diving and grabbing him by his feet. Helping him escape.
He’s so hot. Yoongi pants a second or two, readjusting his snapback on his head, arms flexing under his shirt. Jimin licks his lips before looking at eyes, eyes that are right now focusing on him fully for the first time ever so close and sure. And Jimin’s in that… situation. With hair and dark circles and shit.
“Yeah?”
Yoongi points at the floor, and Jimin looks down, but before he can even understand or say anything about not getting what he’s referring to, Yoongi readjusts his pants and kneels.
Kneels.
Kneels on the floor? In front of Jimin? More like crouches, but it doesn’t change much for Jimin, who is looking at him, horrified. When Yoongi reaches for his shoe, untied, on the floor, Jimin freezes.
But it is when Yoongi starts to tie it up and actually raises his head, looking at Jimin with eyes dark under the brim of his hat, veiny hands busy while he casually looks hot, tying up a shoe’s laces – Jimin’s shoe’s laces – that Jimin thinks he will lose it soon.
“We don’t want you falling now, do we?”
Oh, fuck.
Jimin grips the tie with so much force that it hurts his palm, but he doesn’t care. Yoongi rises up from the floor, and now he’s even closer than before, and if Jimin’s in his space, then he can control it. But if it is the opposite, and it’s Yoongi in his space, then he doesn’t know how to act. He gulps down nothing, feeling the slight difference in their heights much more now that Yoongi’s looking at him so close by. And smirking. And Jimin’s crazy, he is, Taehyung’s right, he is actually insane, but Yoongi is in fact looking at his lips. Maybe he could have been wrong about him looking at his ass (he wasn’t), but two times in a row, that can’t be.
Yoongi raises his hat slightly as a greeting and smiles while getting back to his position by the door. Jimin doesn’t move, but his mouth doesn’t close either, and that’s a problem. Especially if Yoongi gets back to his spot next to the door and looks back to find him there, frozen on the spot.
“Oh.”
Jimin watches Yoongi nodding to himself while he walks all the way back to Jimin, stopping in front of him, detaching Jimin’s fingers from his tie, as they’re almost stuck in that grabbing position. Is Jimin even real, right now? Maybe that’s a dream too. But Yoongi’s cologne is so strong, and he’s so… real, in front of him, tying up his tie perfectly with capable hands.
“By the way”, he starts, while Jimin tries his best to breathe and not let his heart go insane. “I’m in.”
He stops his work for a second, looking up at Jimin, who is not responding.
“What?”
“I’m in.”
Jimin doesn’t let himself believe he’s hearing that right. “About what?”
“You know”, he starts, and their voices are so low that Jimin himself struggles to hear what they’re saying in the empty hall. “Maybe it’s the fact you haven’t asked this morning.”
He pats lightly the tie on Jimin’s collar, the perfect knot on its length, and smiles at him with eyes entertained while Jimin can’t respond properly.
“Or maybe it’s your morning hair. Who knows.”
He flicks Jimin’s chin lightly, very softly, barely touching him, and turns to go back to his place.
As soon as he’s there, his eyes focus on his job. So, Jimin does the only logical thing he can.
Runs to his office.
-
“I’m fucked.”
“Finally.”
Jimin closes the door behind himself in Taehyung’s office, melting into the chair. Taehyung doesn’t raise his eyes from the keyboard he’s furiously hitting, and if Jimin didn’t know him, he’d think he was working hard.
But he knows him. And he’s definitely, definitely playing some RPG game. At best, he’s writing fanfics.
“Be for real, Tae. I’m fucked.”
“I’m being for real. So glad you got someone to fuck your brains out.”
“Oh, I will have it.”
Maybe it’s the way he says it, maybe it’s the fact that Taehyung died in his game, but his best friend finally looks up at him behind his glasses. He blinks a couple of times before sliding swiftly on the table, scaring Jimin a bit.
“What are you even trying to say right now?”
“I’m not trying to say anything, Taehyung, he literally told me he wants to. He’s in, he said he’s in, like, he wants to. Fuck me, or whatever you want to call this thing.”
Taehyung grabs his hands, fingers intertwined, and holds them on the desk.
“What the fuck,”
“Yeah, you can say that.”
“And what did you tell him.”
Jimin stares at him, nodding slightly, confidence pouring out of him like he’s a goddamn fountain. “Nothing.”
Taehyung stays put for a minute. Something along the lines of Jimin’s words must have been shocking to him, because as the faint sound of a gunshot announces his death in his silly game, Taehyung doesn’t rush to save his own character’s ass.
“What.”
“Yeah.”
“You stayed silent. You didn’t say shit.”
Jimin nods. Solemnly. Taehyung leaves his hands on the desk, sliding his chair backwards. He sighs.
“Why?”
“I didn’t really know what to say, he tied my shoe!”
“You say like that’s a sexual thing of a sort.”
“I swear it is, Tae, it really is. He’s a demon.”
Taehyung clicks a couple of times on his desktop, and the sounds of his game stop. He then proceeds to stand up and circle a couple of times in the room, like he’s pondering, hands behind his back. When he stops, his hand points at Jimin.
“You’re completely out of your mind.”
“I am for a reason; he stared at my lips.”
“Again with this staring thing!?”
“One time, I’m crazy. Two times, he’s gay!”
“That’s not how the saying goes!”
Jimin slides a bit on the chair, sighing excessively. He has work to do, but that’s more important now.
“I slept so badly, too. Today sucks.”
“Maybe you’ll suck too”, Jimin throws a rubber at him, missing his head. “Just saying! Why did you sleep badly? Tell me.”
“You don’t deserve to know. You’ll make fun of me.”
Taehyung clutches his non-existent pearls, offended. “I would never!”
“I dreamt of Yoongi.”
“Ah! Loser!”
Throwing a pencil at him, Jimin stands up to get out, but Taehyung stops him, chuckling.
“Okay, sorry. What did you dream?”
“Unholy things. Not really that bad, really, he was kissing my neck. But!”, he raises a finger. “It was so weird he was talking to me and doing that, especially in the hall, that I didn’t even enjoy it.”
“Did you nerd out about the dynamics of it in your dream?”
Jimin flaps his hands in the air, getting closer to the door without turning his head away from Taehyung. He fears an attack soon.
“Maybe? It was more about the vibe. He was hot, though. Does that count, in your book?”
“I don’t keep a book.”
“I’ll tell you about it at lunch, okay?”
“Please don’t!”, screams Taehyung, while Jimin closes the door and runs away.
-
Lunch comes faster than Jimin wanted it to. He fixed his outfit and combed his hair as much as he could, and that means that he still looks absolutely unpresentable. Small waves that he usually straightens out brush against his shirt while he walks to the elevator, warily looking around like he’s about to see a ghost.
“Will you stop that?”
“I’m just making sure.”
“Jimin, he works nine floors down from here.”
“You’d never know what people can become. Monsters of the dark.”
Taehyung presses the button, waiting with his hands in his slacks’ pockets for the number to become a 10. “You know what would be funny?”
“What?”
“If he meant something else and not that.”
Jimin slaps him on his arm, and Taehyung groans in pain. Maybe a little too loudly, because people in the elevator, who had just arrived at their floor, look at him with a collective side eye. Taehyung remains unfazed, and Jimin smiles sheepishly at them.
“He didn’t.”
Reaching for the third floor’s button, Jimin presses his lips in a line. Because Taehyung is baiting him, not responding. He will not succumb. He will be the wiser one. He won’t give in.
“He didn’t!”
Taehyung snickers, and Jimin tries to kick him, but the elevator's stopping makes him almost crash into the opening door. “Stop saying shit! C’mon! I’m trying to rationalize it!”
But Taehyung is, in fact, unfortunately, tragically, not looking at him. Nope. Instead, he stares ahead of him, outside the open doors. And Jimin, even if dreading the moment, turns to look at the person standing outside.
It is no surprise that the person is, in fact, Yoongi.
“Sir.”, says Taehyung, saluting him with a hand, exiting the elevator, rushing next to him. Jimin cusses him out in his head, looking back at Yoongi with sweat dripping down his back.
“Hi.”
Yoongi raises his chin slightly, blinking at him. Jimin wonders why he doesn’t move to let him pass. Or, just leave.
“Mr. Park.”
“Yes?”
“The elevator.”
“Yes?”
“Could you please… decide if you want to step out or stay inside? I’m blocking it with my foot.”
Jimin looks down at the foot Yoongi is indeed using to stop the doors, and he wants to cry, but the only thing leaving his throat is a dry chuckle and a curse word he doesn’t say.
“Sure. Sorry.”
“It’s no problem.”
Squeezing next to him and his four coffees (four!?), all into a cup’s holder, Jimin exits the elevator, feeling his gaze on him. Damn, today he mismatched his socks!
“Thanks.”
Yoongi shrugs, entering the elevator, one hand supporting the coffee and the other pressing a button.
“No worries. See you later.”
Jimin whips his head back so fast, but the only thing he can see is his smug smile.
And he has mismatched socks!
.
“I am sure.”
Taehyung raises his eyes slowly from the phone he is texting (hopefully without an s) on, looking at Jimin while sipping his drink. Today, it seems like it’s a caramel sort of sweet demonic creature.
“About the wanting to fuck business.”
“Yes. He told me see you later. Also, you asshole. Fuck you.”
With an understanding shrug of his shoulders, Taehyung nods. “Fair.”
“He told me see you later. Did we skip that part?”
“No”, says Taehyung, mouth full of his tuna salad Jimin looks at with disgust. But that’s only because he throws in his so-called salads everything one could find in a hurricane shelter and mixes it until it becomes a brownish-greenish shapeless blob.
“Is tuna in there, too?”
Taehyung stops while pointing at him with a finger to look down at his bowl. “I don’t remember, to be honest. See you later when?”
Jimin massages his temples. He’s stressed more than he thought he could be about this whole thing.
“I think you’re overthinking this”, adds Taehyung, fork pointing at Jimin with so much force it almost sends a piece of not_identified.jpg flying towards him.
“I’m not overthinking it. I’m thinking about it the right amount. And I think I’m not ready.”
“You’ve asked him for three months for that.”
“Four in two days.”
“Four months for this. I’d say I would think you're pretty ready.”
“But this time’s different! He asked me!”
Taehyung munches on his food, and Jimin stares at him for a second. “And?”
“And! And I have mismatched socks!”
“You’re nervous.”
Jimin stares at him with his mouth agape, not knowing what to say. Taehyung barely finishes his bite before his fork falls into his bowl.
“Oh my god.”
“No.”
“Oh my god, you really are nervous! I can’t believe it!”
“Taehyung.”
“You are nervous to fuck somebody!”
“Quiet!”
“The mighty ass of Park Jimin is scared of being fucked! I can’t believe that finally happened!”
“Taehyung!”
Taehyung snickers, buzzing with excitement. “I can’t believe we’re this old.”
“What does that even have to do with being old? Also, I’m not.”
“Meaning we’ve grown up so much from the kid who would have charmed and been fucked by anybody within a ten-mile radius in early college.”
He fakes drying out a tear, and Jimin kicks his shin under the table. “Violent creature”, says Taehyung, massaging it.
“Yes, filled with hateful thoughts. Anyway.”
“Anyway.”
“I’m not scared per se. It’s just… maybe I’m too excited for it, and it makes me nervous. What if he’s an absolute disappointment?”
Sighing, Taehyung takes back the fork in between his fingers.
“You see, Jimin. There’s one thing you have to understand, as a gay man.”
“Who said I’m gay?”
“You.”
“Fair. True. Go on.”
“As I was saying. You have to understand that, as a gay man who likes other men, that means you will always be disappointed, at some point, in your relationships.”
He nods, solemnly. Jimin hums a knowing response.
“And you’ve been disappointed too, that’s why you say that?”
“Sure.”
“By Jungkook? Really?”
Taehyung pats a hand on his shoulder, a single grain of rice sticking to his lower lip while he chews on his food.
“Really. He doesn’t like my cooking.”
“Tae, nobody likes your cooking.”
“Rude.”
“How do I get fucked, anyway?”
Getting his lunchbox back into his bag, Taehyung rises from the chair, picking up his caramel-themed drink of the day.
“Well, you should wait until it is closing hour and then let the magic happen.”
“The way you’re saying that makes it so unsexy, I swear.”
-
Jimin chews on his lower lip while staring at his screen. His cursor has moved in circles for the last half hour while he was drawing flowers on his paint app, only moving in a straight line to change colors. He has his cheek mushed against his fist, and when the clock ticks 6 PM and everybody starts to leave, it takes him several colleagues missing to notice he should be going to.
When he raises his now tired eyes from the bluish computer screen, Jimin sees Taehyung putting on his coat, already looking in his direction. He stands up fast to reach for him, but one of his colleagues stops him.
“Hey, Jimin.”
“Hi.”
He tries not to be rude, but the smile only appears for a couple of seconds on his face before disappearing. She tilts her head, confused.
“Are you not leaving?”
“I have some work I have to finish. I think I won’t sleep tonight.”
A chuckle coming from Taehyung has him turning his head towards him fast, but his best friend, the traitor he is, is giving him his back. Jimin bows to his colleague, sprinting to Taehyung and hugging his arms in fake harmony. Fake because he’s basically constricting his arm into a deadly grip.
“Don’tleavemealone.”
“Jimin, what?”
“Don’t leave me alone”, says Jimin through his teeth. Taehyung fixes the coat on his body.
“Jimin, I do not wish to be a third wheel to your fantastic all-night sex.”
“Who said it will be an all-night experience? Maybe he’s bad in bed.”
Jimin whispers screams, and Taehyung looks at him, faking a thinking pose.
“Hey, look at the bright side. You won’t be in bed.”
“Taehyung!”
“Hey, Jimin. Calm down, now, okay?”
Taehyung presses his hands on his shoulders, pulling him to the side of the corridor. He looks in his eyes, deeply, and Jimin breathes. Deeply. “That’s what you wanted. That’s what you’ve asked of him every single morning for the last four months.”
“Three and twenty-eight days”, protests Jimin, but it is a weak protest. Taehyung rolls his eyes, but it’s soft and knowing. Because he does. He knows Jimin.
“If you don’t want it anymore, you can always say no. I’m sure he’s a good guy.”
Jimin bites down on his lips while thinking that he is, in fact, surely a good guy. And a hot one. Besides the point, anyway.
“Yeah.”
“Do you?”
“Do I what?”
“Do you want to do this?”
Jimin thinks about it. Thinks about him, about the way he made him feel just for a brief touch, just for the smallest fraction of his skin getting closer to him, and fuck, yes, he wants it. And he’s ruining his yes day by being anxious. So typical of him.
“Yeah.”
“I know.”
“I could have said no, you know?”
Taehyung pats his shoulders, affectionately, smiling slightly at him.
“You have a boner, Jimin.”
Folding so fast on himself that he almost knocks over a plastic sign, Jimin looks down and oh, well. He does have a boner. A semi, thank you very much.
“Okay, you’ve got me there.”
“What did you think about? You haven’t told me your dream today.”
“The dream wasn’t even comparable to him standing right in front of me and perfectly knotting my tie and talking about my morning hair.”
Taehyung chuckles. “That’s what’s turning you on right now?”
Jimin’s sure he’s redder than ever, while he readjusts his pants and tries to face the wall rather than his colleagues.
“You don’t get it. He was very hot while doing so.”
“Oh, I’m sure.”
Walking again towards the elevator, Taehyung gets behind one of the colleagues. Jimin follows him with his eyes, not moving from his staring-at-the-wall situation.
“Tell me how it goes?”
“No.”
“Nice. Have a great night, Jimin-ah!”
“I will!”
As Taehyung disappears in the elevator, Jimin turns back and goes into his office again. Until there is even still one of his colleagues, he will continue pretending to work. In the darkness.
He just waits until the floor seems too silent. Walking in the darkness between his colleagues’ desks feels a bit unreal, the usual noise is now quiet, which makes everything feel blurry in the dark. Jimin reaches the end of the corridor that leads to the cubicles and waits in front of the elevator door for the clock to hit 8 PM.
His hand is reaching for the button for the elevator, but the doors chime and open in front of him.
It’s not like Jimin wasn’t expecting to see him. To see Yoongi.
But his eyes, darker than ever in the dimly lit corridor, are clouded. And Jimin thinks he knows by what. It is the same hunger that is now flushing his cheeks, catching his breath before he can deeply savor it, making his skin feel electric.
“Hi”, he says, his voice a whisper under Yoongi’s gaze, passing on his body, slowly, deliberately.
Three times a charm, it seems.
“I will give you exactly three seconds to tell me no. And after that, I’m not stopping until I’m satisfied.”
Jimin’s breath catches in his throat, and his hands, sweating, run to wipe on his pants. He looks at his tongue, darting for a second only on his lower lip, wetting it.
“Nobody is stopping you anytime soon.”
Time doesn’t even matter anymore, once Yoongi understands he will not get any no’s from Jimin. Because if he thinks he won’t stop until he’s satisfied, he doesn’t know how much fuel Jimin has in his body. And saying no to him for almost four months did nothing but add to the fire.
Yoongi doesn’t leave space for other words to be spoken, and Jimin’s glad.
His lips are soft, but he kisses roughly. With hands controlling the way things go, Yoongi is all fire on Jimin, that hangs tight on his shirt, the shoulders, the arms, his back, the tie, whatever it is, Jimin feels he’ll go insane, having him under his fingertips.
Wherever he touches, Yoongi has muscles. He has hidden them well, but while he walks towards Jimin’s office, towering over him and almost dragging him, Jimin can feel them under the shirt. Shit. He doesn’t know if it’s better now, that he feels them clothed, or if when he’ll feel them as they are, he’ll have an orgasm just like that.
Their noses brush almost violently while Jimin walks and is almost carried backwards. He can feel the way Yoongi’s hands are big on his face, thumbs pressing on his cheeks while the rest of his fingers – long, long fingers – almost dig in his neck and bury themselves on Jimin’s nape. When they’re almost in the corridor to Jimin’s office, Yoongi stops walking so fast, and Jimin almost falls to the ground, feet shuffling on themselves.
Yoongi’s hand is fast to grab him by his waist, keeping him close, bodies pressed together. Jimin pants, mere inches in between them.
“Thanks. Great reflexes.”
Yoongi smirks at him, not leaving his waist. They both stare at each other’s lips. Yoongi’s are red and glossy, and Jimin wants to kiss him until the morning comes.
“No worries, pretty.”
The pet name has Jimin a bit weak in his knees as he anchors himself to the broadness of Yoongi’s shoulder. Thankfully, since Yoongi's hand hasn’t left his waist yet, he doesn’t fall to the ground. As Yoongi presses him to the wall, though, movement precise and slow, Jimin leaves his hands wandering.
“Like this.”
“Pretty?”
Jimin nods, muffling a moan by biting down hard on his lips. Yoongi breathes in fast, his thumb releasing the flesh from Jimin’s teeth and caressing it. Without much thought behind it, Jimin lets his tongue slip past his lips, licking the finger Yoongi has close to his mouth.
There is a beat of silence where nothing happens, but it’s just Yoongi’s eyes slipping towards Jimin’s.
Then, just as they’ve never stopped, Yoongi grabs Jimin by his waist and presses their bodies together, Jimin flushed against the wall and Yoongi on him.
He’s everywhere, every inch of him on Jimin, and Jimin can’t control his voice when Yoongi’s crotch slides roughly on his, the friction blissful, ecstatic, aphrodisiac. He claws at Yoongi’s shoulders, moving erratically to try and get even the smallest bit more of this. He knows he has precum wetting his underwear, but he couldn’t give any less fucks, right now.
“Fuck… fuck.”
Jimin moans into Yoongi’s mouth when he presses harder on him, and in a second, he doesn’t have his feet on the floor anymore. Yelping and grabbing whatever piece of him he can grasp, Jimin gets steadied on Yoongi’s body by wrapping his legs around his torso, the slight friction leaving no time for clarity.
“Fuck, you’re strong.”
“Thanks, pretty.”
With hands touching everything, everywhere, Jimin feels Yoongi shifting him on one arm, using the other to hook his legs around him. Jimin could come just with the way his hand feels, open palm, on his ass.
“You’re using this as an excuse to touch my ass.”
Yoongi walks fast in between the cubicles, looking around himself as if in search of something. He just stares a second at Jimin when he says that, his free hand reaching for his snapback and throwing it away somewhere.
“I will do much more than that, in a second, Mr. Park.
Jimin gets deposited on a desk – his desk – and Yoongi stands in front of him, luscious, long, black hair caressing his nape. With hands immediately running to it, Jimin whimpers nonsense.
“What?”
“You have long hair, for fuck’s sake. You should have fucked me months ago.”
Yoongi smirks, tucking his hands under Jimin’s legs and getting him closer. “Is that so?”
“Yes. Fuck you, by the way, for letting me wait so long.”
Tilting his head with eyebrows raised, Yoongi gets closer, hands on Jimin’s tights. Not that this has any effect on Jimin whatsoever.
“Doesn’t that make it better?”
“Wasted time.”
“Wasted?”
“Yes. By now, we could have explored the whole building, room after room.”
“Quite ambitious, aren’t you, Mr. Park?”
He stands up, chin up, while confronting Yoongi with a glint in his eyes. He grabs his tie, sweetly, slowly, tugging at it until they’re just a mixed breath apart.
“Don’t call me Mr. Park.”
“Or?”
“Don’t call me Mr. Park, sir. I will not leave you alone until you have to sit down not to collapse to the ground.”
Yoongi’s eyes get a bit darker, at that, and his hand runs to Jimin’s waist, as in a reflex he couldn’t contain. Jimin slaps it away, still having him stay close by his tie.
“What if I do?”
“Try me, Yoongi.”
With his tongue sliding deliberately slowly on his lips, Yoongi gets closer, nose brushing with Jimin’s as he does. “I will, Mr. Park.”
Jimin’s hands find his belt easily, undoing it and having their way into Yoongi’s briefs. Yoongi looks at him with eyes hazed, and Jimin knows, oh, he knows, Yoongi is not ready. “You wanted this, didn’t you?”
“I’ve wanted this ever since I watched you sipping on your friend’s drink in the hall. My second day on the – fuck!”
He grabs the desk behind him for stability, head dropping back, knees already wobbling. And Jimin has just decided to drop to his knees and take his cock between his fingers.
Looking at the obviously big cock in between his hands, Jimin passes his hands on it a couple of times, just measuring. Comparing it, in his head, to anyone else’s cock he has ever taken.
Yes. That’s the biggest and thickest cock he’s ever sucked. And he hopes it will be the biggest and thickest one he has fucking him.
Jimin looks up at Yoongi’s eyes when he opens his glossy lips on his already hard, already slick with precum cock. He wouldn’t miss the expression on Yoongi’s face in a million years.
It doesn’t fit in Jimin’s mouth, but he will make up for it with his hands, wrapped around the base. With his tongue flat, Jimin does a couple of tentative bobs of his head, slightly sucking on his part on Yoongi’s cock.
Yoongi, who looks at him with eyebrows furrowed, sweat beads collecting on his forehead already, and a hand indecisive whether to grab his hair or not.
When he doesn’t move to do so and have Jimin under his fingers, Jimin moves away from his cock, hand grabbing Yoongi’s and putting it in his hair. “Help me out there, won’t you? There are no more gentlemen out there nowadays.”
Licking his lips, Yoongi grabs Jimin’s hair, opening his legs just the tiniest bit more to have Jimin comfortably kneel in between them. “Sure, baby. I didn’t know if you – fuck, shit, stop doing…”
His words are absorbed by grunts and low moans that he accompanies with his hands, both tightly grabbing things. If one scratches the underside of Jimin’s desk, the other pulls at his hair in a delicious way that only makes him suck harder on his cock.
Jimin moves with precision, but still sloppily, allowing Yoongi to move slightly in his mouth but still driving the ordeal at his own pace. Because he wants to have Yoongi’s legs shake, when he’ll come.
And he will only come when and how Jimin wants him to.
And that means inside him. Ends of discussion.
“Fuck – how are you so”, a moan, “good at this, fuck, Jimin.”
The praise only makes him more eager to have him on the edge, and when Yoongi looks down at him, biting down hard on his lips, Jimin does his best to look up at him with the biggest, most fuckable eyes he’d ever shown to another human being.
“Jimin, I’m clos-“
Jimin doesn’t let him finish before he leaves his cock free from his diabolical use of tongue and hands with a pop sound.
Yoongi almost falls forward, but his hand on the desk steadies him. He sighs, hard, while Jimin shoves his hard and pulsating cock back into his boxers and slacks.
“Oh, you’re devilish.”
“I know.”
Jimin gets up again, a small smirk playing on his lips while Yoongi runs a hand through his strands of hair. There is just a glimpse of time where Jimin thinks he’s winning, and that’s before Yoongi looks up at him with his head hanging low.
After that, the way their clothes fly in the air is almost magical. Yoongi pulls at Jimin’s shirt’s buttons so hard that half of them go flying in the room (which Jimin finds both annoying and hot), preying it out of Jimin’s chest, sliding down his arms all while kissing him deeper and more intensely than anybody else has ever done, his tongue so perfect dancing with Jimin’s.
Tapping on Yoongi’s chest, Jimin fumbles with one of Yoongi’s deep blue shirt’s buttons, breaking their kiss when he doesn’t succeed in breaking him free of it. Yoongi starts to pull at his tie, but Jimin stops him.
“Leave it on.”
“Can I destroy my own work and do yours, at least?”
Jimin nods. “Yes. Not yours, though. I need it there.”
Yoongi complies, removing Jimin’s tie and sending it flying somewhere in the room. Jimin doesn’t care. He unbuttons half of his shirt and just straight up eradicates the rest of it, sliding down the tight fabric from his defined muscles. And Jimin will stare. Oh, yeah, he will stare and will bite and will lick every inch of his body.
“Fuck, you’re hot.”
“You too, baby.”
Nodding, confusedly, Jimin gets closer to kiss him again, and Yoongi complies. Their lips match perfectly, slotting so well together, and Jimin’s hands wander on the muscles, feeling them flexing while Yoongi grips hard on his waist. Even if tomorrow Jimin will have the marks of his fingers on him, he doesn’t care. Or, maybe, he likes this more than he should.
“I want to eat you out so bad”, says Yoongi, between kisses, forehead pressed to Jimin while he steals other kisses from his almost bruised lips. Jimin whines in his hands, pressing their crotches together again. He’s so horny, fuck.
“But I want you to fuck me.”
Yoongi presses kisses on the side of Jimin’s neck, slowly cascading into his collarbones, biting his skin here and there, but without leaving any marks. Jimin, hands in between his hair strands, feels himself ascending in a blissful paradise made of Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi Yoongi.
“I want it too, baby, that’s why I won’t this time.”
This time.
This time.
Meaning there could be a next time. Meaning Yoongi’s already envisioning a next time.
“Just use your finger. I have lube in here.”
Jimin stretches on the desk, feeling Yoongi’s hand sliding on his naked chest and stopping at the hem of his pants, beginning to work with the button to undress Jimin even further. Kicking away his shoes, Jimin comes back straight, sitting on the desk, with lube in his hand, shoving it in Yoongi’s direction.
Yoongi looks at him for a couple of seconds, and when Jimin stays put, he chuckles, pressing a kiss to his lips.
“Baby, I want to finger you, now, so can I get a perfect, first-class view of your ass, possibly propped up in the sky, for me to ruin?”
With his mouth unable to close, Jimin slowly gets down from the desk, cheeks red, and slowly removes his pants. And boxers.
Yoongi passes his eyes on him, almost studying him, and Jimin would hide, but Yoongi’s faster than him. Grabbing his hand, he shoves him on the chair, positioning his hands on the backrest, making sure Jimin reclines it to his liking.
“You’re even better than I’ve fantasized about, pretty. Open your legs for me, will you?”
Jimin feels him hovering over him while he shivers a bit in the dark, his cock hard, his mind hazed by lust and want. Yoongi’s breath on his ear, his voice so low, sending goosebumps on his skin. While pressing kisses on his shoulder, alternating them with small bites, Yoongi rims Jimin’s hole, his finger warm against his skin.
“Relax for me, baby?”
“Y-yes.”
The discomfort lasts for about half a second, just before Yoongi’s free hand wraps around Jimin’s cock, making him stutter forward. “Oh, shit.”
“Yes, baby? Tell me.”
“Shit.”
Yoongi’s fingers are long and expert in him, curling and pumping just at the right pace, at the right time, in the right spot, making Jimin whimper softly in the dark, his eyes shutting hard while he contains his pleasure.
“Don’t be shy, baby. Let me hear your pretty moans. Nobody will hear them but me. Cameras don’t work tonight.”
He says that while adding his third finger, deep into Jimin’s body, who’s shivering and buckling forward, hands scratching at the chair while he moves erratically, trying to find more pleasure in Yoongi’s hands, one deep inside of him and one softly stroking his cock.
“Faster, more, Yoongi, fuck. Give me more.”
“Do you want me to fuck you, pretty?”
“Yes. No, I don’t. I want to ride you.”
“Oh.”
Yoongi slides his hand away from Jimin’s body, making him feel the loss of it while his hole flutters. Jimin stands up, wobbly, from the chair, guiding Yoongi on it. The image of him, disheveled, hair tousled, and eyes watering, almost lying on his chair, makes Jimin want to hop on his cock until he is completely buried deep inside of him.
And that’s what he’ll do.
“Are you clean?”
“W-what?”
Jimin props himself on top of him by grabbing the arms of the chairs in between his hands.
“Are you able to fuck me raw, right now, without any consequence for both our lives?”
Yoongi stares at him with his mouth agape, gulping down hard. He nods. That’s enough for Jimin, who fumbles for a second with his slacks just to let his cock free. Then, looking straight into Yoongi’s eyes while he does so, he straddles him with his knees, points his dick into his ass’ direction, and starts to sink on it.
The lewd moans he lets out, mere inches away from Yoongi’s face, are all completely intentional. Both intentional and realistic, since the feeling of being stretched by such a thick, deliciously thick cock, is nothing he’s ever felt before. Guiding Yoongi’s length inside of himself while he grunts lowly in his throat, well, there is nothing to compare this feeling to. While Yoongi’s hands guide him on his cock, Jimin adjusts to the penetration, bottoming out with a satisfied whine.
He stays put for a second before starting to move, pressing himself to Yoongi’s chest, who welcomes him on his skin, a hand sliding down to grope his ass in a movement that only proves Jimin three things. He was right, and Yoongi was staring at his ass; Yoongi wanted to knead his ass; he has a great ass.
“Fuck, you’re so tight.”
Almost growling those words onto his skin, Yoongi puts both his hands on Jimin’s ass, moving it a bit while Jimin rides his cock.
“And you’re so big.”
“Yeah?”
Jimin nods, taking the tie he has forced Yoongi to keep on in between his fingers. He moves up and down, more confidently with each movement, and as Yoongi tries to connect his lips, he just gets a bit farther and farther away.
“Jimin-ah.”
“What?”
“Come kiss me while you ride my cock.”
Stopping in his tracks, Jimin looks in Yoongi’s eyes before pressing a hand on his shoulder, making him lay almost flat on the reclinable chair. He towers over him, tugging slightly at his tie but still pressing him down.
“I am riding your cock for my own pleasure, Yoongi. When I’ll say you can raw dog me on the desk and come inside me without even touching me, that’ll be another thing. But now?”
Jimin rises up, bottoming up right after, eliciting a low, dragged growl from Yoongi that has his stomach flipping.
“Now, I’m doing it on my terms. And don’t worry. You’ll come before me.”
Yoongi raises his eyebrows, hands resting on Jimin’s hips while he starts to go faster.
“Oh, you’re so sure of it, too, pretty.”
“I’m sure because I know, Yoongi. I’ve ridden many dicks before, you know?”
A glimpse of darkness clouds Yoongi’s eyes, and his hands tighten around Jimin’s skin while he hops freely on his cock.
The feeling of being absolutely filled and full by his cock, the tie around his neck making it even more exciting for Jimin, the tremors in his body to stay composed even when Jimin is rotating his hips and slapping their bodies together in a perfect harmony of slap slap slap sounds, filling the empty office.
That’s what Jimin wanted. That’s what he knew he’d get.
“Fuck, fuck, you’re so beautiful on my cock, fuck.”
Jimin presses down on him, tie securely wrapped on his hand, while he savors the feeling of his muscles under his hands, moving his ass up and down while fucking himself on him so fast that he can see the moment Yoongi knows he will, in fact, come before him.
“Jimin, I’ll-“
He doesn’t end his phrase, because as Jimin drags his fingers on his skin, leaving red marks behind them, Yoongi presses down his ass on him, a low moan rumbling deep in his throat while he comes inside of Jimin. His cum fills Jimin so well while he tries not to come yet, legs shaking next to Yoongi.
“Fuck, baby, fuck.”
Yoongi looks at him, eyes glossed over by his orgasm, and with one hand he invites him to fuck himself on his cock a bit longer, sustaining his ass, while the other rushes to his untouched cock.
Jimin crumbles forward as soon as Yoongi touches him, and Yoongi raises up with his back straight, hand fucking his red and forgotten cock in between their sweaty and sticky bodies. Jimin grabs Yoongi’s shoulders, whining like a prayer to him, panting while struggling to climax, more because of his tired body than because he doesn’t want to.
“You did so good, baby, mh? You took my cock so well, didn’t you?”
Nodding, Jimin hangs on his shoulders, slowly moving his body up and down Yoongi’s spent cock, feeling the gushing of his cum inside of his hole.
“Yeah, you did. You did well. And next time, while I’ll fuck you raw in front of everybody else in here, you will be even better at taking it, won’t you?”
Maybe it’s the praising, maybe the next time, maybe the slight voyeurism Yoongi’s implying he’s into, but Jimin shivers just a second before coming in between his pressed chests together, dirtying Yoongi’s hand, still around his cock.
They breathe into each other’s skin, chests rising up fast, together. Jimin looks at Yoongi through glossy, hazed eyes, still finding it hard to come down from the high of one of the best orgasms he has ever experienced in his life.
Yoongi slowly lifts him from his body, the movement of his length missing from Jimin’s hole making him wince, especially when he can feel the cum sticking to his whole body. Without leaving him much room for choosing or even a second to speak up, Yoongi rises from the chair, bringing Jimin’s body closer to him while walking to the bathroom.
With Jimin sitting on the sink, feeling so exposed now that he’s not bold with desire, Yoongi washes his hands, trying to erase some of the stains on his slacks, side eyeing Jimin when he chuckles, slow and shy.
“You should wash up some, okay?”
Jimin nods slightly, folding in on himself under Yoongi’s gaze. He’s still shirtless. And hot. And he has a couple of red marks that may or may not be coming from Jimin’s nails that show off his muscles.
Which only makes him hotter, in Jimin’s opinion.
“What is it?”
Blinking at him while Yoongi finally removes his tie, Jimin fidgets with his hands on his lap, legs close to his chest.
“What?”
“You’re thinking.”
“Mh-mh.”
“What are you thinking about?”
Jimin opens his mouth, but nothing comes out of it. He has to understand it too before he can explain it to Yoongi.
“You said next time.”
Yoongi, drying his hands on a piece of paper, turns to him. He trashes it, before walking in front of him, hands sliding on the sides of Jimin’s shivering body on the sinks, caging him in between them.
“Yeah. So?”
“So… is that, I mean. Will that be a recurring thing?”
“What’s that?”
“Fucking?”
With his head tilting and eyes staring at Jimin’s lips, his tie forgotten on his shoulder, Yoongi smiles. Smirks.
“That, fucking, whatever you want to call it, was the most erotic thing I’ve ever had the pleasure to experience, baby. And I don’t do casual things. Not with pretty boys with way too pretty bodies that ask for me and my cock every morning.”
Jimin is unable to stop his eyes from flipping between Yoongi’s eyes and his lips, so close, so tasteful, so beautiful.
“Is that you asking me out, Min Yoongi?”
“Only if you want me to ask you out, Jimin. And only if me asking you out while we’re both still naked and post-sex isn’t a problem.”
With lips quivering and threatening to release a smile out in the open, Jimin nods slightly, his nose brushing against Yoongi’s, so close.
“Yeah, it’s okay. I was the first one to talk about sex in bathrooms, wasn’t I?”
Yoongi smiles, pressing a kiss on the corner of Jimin’s lips.
“It was in the corridor.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Yes, ask me out. Be the one with common sense. Take me out to dinner. And next time, you should eat me out.”
“I should?”
“You should.”
“You’re quite a commanding boy, aren’t you?”
Jimin giggles slightly, retracting while Yoongi gets closer to him, eyes fixed on his lips while he doesn’t hide a smile. Jimin’s hands don’t resist the urge to cup his face while Yoongi’s get on his waist.
“Am I?”
“Yeah, you are.”
“That a problem for you? You’re afraid you won’t be able to handle me?”
“Me?”, Yoongi squeezes Jimin’s waist lightly while he nods. “Oh, baby. I am a brat tamer at heart. I’ll overcome this with ease.”
“Ease! You’re so wrong about thi-“
Yoongi kisses him, slow and deep, nothing in this kiss is similar to the one Jimin lost himself right in the corridor, a messy and hot one. He’s kissing him like he’s taking care of every inch on Jimin’s lips, making sure he makes Jimin feel him, feel his lips on his own.
When they separate, Jimin gulps down, licking his lips. Their foreheads touch, pressing together.
“You’ve interrupted me.”
“That’s the first step to taming you, baby.”
And while Yoongi kisses him, and Jimin giggles in between their kisses, Jimin thinks his boldness was useful, for once.
-
Earlier that day…
“Oh, shit.
“Namjoon, say that again, please.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Okay, calm down, everybody. What is going on?”
Hoseok comes back into the room with a glass of water in between his fingers, sipping from it and with eyes bouncing between Seokjin, Namjoon, and Yoongi. Especially since the first two are watching Yoongi with eyes almost popping out of their eye sockets.
“He said yes.”
“He’ll fuck the pretty boy.”
With water spraying from his mouth on them both (not without a disgusted roar coming right after), Hoseok turns to Yoongi, who’s sitting in his chair with hands laced on his lap, looking down like a beaten dog.
“What!?”
“Yeah.”
“Same reaction.”
“What? When? Why? Who?”
Yoongi looks at him with an exasperated look. “I understand the rapid fire of questions, but who? Me, Hoseok, who else the fuck?”
“Sorry, I got carried away.”
Seokjin, a repulsed look on his face while he brushes his shirt to try to remove Hoseok’s water, sighs and looks at Hoseok.
“I think he finally crumbled. And for a dumb reason too.”
Namjoon nods, solemnly, and turns to the big screens showing the cameras in the building.
“See? Here’s him this morning.”
Yoongi stands up to try to cover them with his body, but that doesn’t work too well. Hoseok spies at the screens, looking at Yoongi tying Jimin’s shoes and tie with a focused pair of furrowed brows.
“Why are you tying him up so much? Let the man do it himself.”
“That was the only way to talk to him.”
“And what did you say?”
All three of them stare at Yoongi, and he retreats on the chair. Stealing Hoseok’s glass, he downs his water.
“Like, that I was in?”
“In what?”
Yoongi opens in arms in defeat, looking at Hoseok and Namjoon, turning to Seokjin with a What the fuck? written on both of their faces.
“In fucking him, hyung.”
“Oh, yeah! Sure. But you’ve wanted to fuck him ever since you’ve seen him.”
Hoseok grabs his glass again from Yoongi’s hand, refilling it with water while still talking. “I mean, yeah. And that was six months ago.”
“Okay, that isn’t even true?”
Yoongi tries to defend himself, but his colleagues (and friends), all crammed in the small security cameras’ room, all look at him with no space for bullshits in their eyes.
“The second day.”
“Yoongi, that was six months ago.”
“Five and three-quarter!”
“Okay, it was five and three-quarters. What are you going to do?”
Sighing, Yoongi hides his face behind his hands, dragging his skin down. “What do I do? I don’t know. I don’t even know why I said yes.”
“I’ll say I’m very glad you did, honestly. You’ve wanted that ass for too long. And you’d be perfect for each other, I just know.”
“How would you even know, hyung?”
His response is a shrug. Yoongi has the most idiotic friends ever. He turns to Namjoon, seeking some good, old, common sense. “What?”
“What do I do?”
“Why do you ask me? I say yes. I actually would have asked him out on the third day.”
Seokjin turns to him with a loud gasp, hitting his leg. “Liar! You’re a coward. You asked Hoseok to bring me a note that said anonymously if I wanted to go out with you.”
“Yeah, that was me. But it turned out good, right?”
He smiles, but Seokjin’s death stare burns his confidence to the ground. So, he stops.
Turning to Hoseok, Yoongi reaches for his hands, hoping for some reassurance, at least, but Hoseok has been busy, in the meantime of the conversation, because he has half a donut (double-glazed donut) in his hands. Dirty hands.
“Oh! You want to hold hands? Wait.”
He cleans most of the glaze on his shirt – his work shirt – and waits for Yoongi to grab his hands. Never in a hundred years.
“No. But I appreciate your efforts.”
Sitting, shoulders crouched, in front of them, Yoongi sighs.
“Hey.”
He raises his head, looking at Namjoon.
“You should do what you want. Whatever that is.”
“That’d be something you don’t want to hear here.”
“Is it that bad?”
Turning to Hoseok, Yoongi smiles in a way that he knows he’s creepy. But cockblocking yourself for four months just to be able not to jump on your work crush every morning is hard as fuck. Try that.
“Yoongi, don’t-“
“It’s about folding him over and fuck him on his desk. Or against the windows. Or in the elevator. Or wherever he wants me to, I don’t care.”
Seokjin, who tried to stop him, sighs, hand covering his ears like that’ll erase Yoongi’s horny thoughts.
“It’s so bad. You’re so sexually frustrated.”
“I am.”
“So why haven’t you just said yes before, Yoongi?”
Looking at Namjoon, Yoongi nods in acknowledgment of his question.
“That’s a good question, Namjoon. A great one, either. You see… sometimes, you have to restrain yourself to keep your life intact.”
“Not losing your job?”, says Hoseok. Yoongi points a finger in his direction.
“Yes. Not losing your job.”
“And why now?”
Turning to Seokjin just a brief moment before looking at the camera, where Jimin appears slightly, back to it, talking to Taehyung in the cafeteria, Yoongi smiles slightly.
“He had his hair a mess, this morning.”
Nobody replies. For too long. Long enough so that Yoongi turns to look at them, finding their disappointed and disgusting faces waiting for him to see them.
“What?”
“That’s it?”
“Really, is that it?”
“Hyung, you’re kidding, right?”
“Hey”, he points at them. “I’m being serious. He had his hair messy and wavy, this morning.”
Seokjin sighs, folding his arms on his chest while looking at the ceiling, like he’ll find some patience there.
“Don’t come out with some half-assed poetry over this, now.”
“He looked… less composed. More normal. More real. Like I could have actually touched him and not be accused of touching something worth all the money in the world people would have killed me over.”
“Fuck you.”
“You asked!?”
Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, and Namjoon chuckles.
“Okay, I’m not telling you all any of my shit anymore.”
He begins to leave, but chaos from there erupts instantly, hands grabbing him and sitting him again in the chair.
“Hey, hey, we were kidding, hyung!”
“Yeah.”
“We support you and him, so go get your man.”
Yoongi stares at them.
They stare at him.
He stares at them.
Their smiles are starting to be creepy.
“What, right now?”
“What, why not?”
“Are you guys insane?”
“When, then?”
“After closing hours? At least? And I can’t do it here? What about the cameras!?”
Seokjin waves him off.
“We’ll turn them off.”
Yoongi opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out of it.
“You would?”
“Yeah.”
Nodding, he ponders it. He looks at them with narrowed eyes.
“Are you guys making fun of me now?”
They all start talking one on top of the others, and between words, Yoongi catches some insults to his person.
“Okay, okay! Okay. Alright.”
He looks at the clock, pressing his snapback on his head once again, while he starts going out the door.
“Okay, I have to go. See you guys later.”
He opens the door, but before closing it behind him, he looks at them again. They blink at him, waiting for him to say something.
Yoongi nods slightly, clicking his tongue to the roof of his mouth.
“Thanks, you guys. I mean it.”
Hoseok’s bottom lip pouts out, and before he can launch himself at Yoongi in a bear hug he wouldn’t like, the other two grab his arms, pinning him on the chair.
“Go! Go before the beast liberate himself!”
Yoongi laughs wholeheartedly, closing the door.
He has good friends.
And a hot guy to fuck tonight oh my god he will freak out soon.