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If there was one thing Yoongi hated most of all, it was change. And unfortunately he’d had to undergo a big one: the stress and toxic environment of the university he used to teach at was, in the stern words of his doctor, literally killing him. (Yoongi also hated the modern day practice of using the word “literally” as just an intensifier rather than what it actually meant, but not nearly as much as he hated change.) Sure, he had barely been able to sleep at night, and he had been grinding his teeth away from clenching them all the time, and he had often been too anxious to have any appetite for his food, but that was all just part of life, wasn’t it? He just had to find better coping strategies.
Except no: no amount of coping strategies could make up for the fact that the work environment was beyond fixing, and Yoongi had dreaded going to campus each day. He finally made himself a little chart of pros and cons of finding another university to teach at, and was somewhat surprised that - despite how much he truly loathed change - when he tallied it all up it did seem better to start interviewing somewhere else.
So, faced with the undeniable facts, he forced himself to start looking. It was hard, given that he already felt so exhausted and overwhelmed just from keeping up minimally with his responsibilities, but he pushed through it all and soon enough he managed to get a position in the math department of a much smaller college. The campus seemed lovely and he even got to keep his tenure, so eager were they to bring Yoongi into the fold. Hopefully it would be the type of place where they were nice to the new guy.
Because he was new, everyone else go to pick what classes they taught before he did. So, of course, he ended up with two freshman-level courses, and one of the “math for social sciences” sections, plus “history of mathematics” for the teacher-track students - but he was expecting that. Honestly, he could teach all that in his sleep, and hopefully recover a bit from the burnout his last university had saddled him with. Next year, once he’d learned more about the politics here, he’d put up a fight for some chewier assignments.
He reported to the math department admin office on his first assigned day, some weeks before the start of the semester. The secretary - a woman named Jihyo who smelled like sage - showed him to the room that was to be his office and then summoned a young man who had evidently been somewhere else down the hall. This person had on a blue button-front shirt tucked into very sharp dark slacks, with shiny dress shoes. He was slightly more nicely dressed than Yoongi, who had on a very similar shirt - though with the sleeves pushed up haphazardly - relaxed-fit corduroy pants, and his favorite well-worn creased-up brogues.
“This is Park Jimin,” Jihyo said, and Yoongi knew what that meant since he had read the email from a few days ago saying that his associate professor this year would be Park Jimin, “Jimin, this is Professor Min - can you help him get set up?”
“Oh, of course!” Jimin said with an enthusiastic bow and a friendly smile. “Welcome, I’m so happy to have you here, Professor!”
Yoongi caught a little whiff of his scent - something clean and invigorating that he could tell was Jimin even over the calm, muted herby scent of Jihyo, who was leaving the room anyway.
“Thank you, I’m glad to be here as well,” Yoongi said. “And please, you can call me Yoongi.”
Yoongi felt buoyantly light-hearted as Jimin came into the room. He had been so nervous on his way to campus this morning, but he had a great feeling about all of it now. He had a room, and an associate professor that he already felt good about within the first twelve seconds, and someone had already put a computer and a stack of this year’s textbooks on his desk, and what else could he ask for? It had been a great idea to switch jobs - even with the pay cut, this was worth it already.
“There should be a paper on that side that has the login instructions for your computer,” Jimin pointed out. “And once you’re in, I’ll show you the online portal for requesting any other furniture or supplies you might need from the department.”
“Oh, I’m probably good,” Yoongi replied absent-mindedly as he picked up the paper and opened the lid of the computer. “I don’t need much.”
He caught the way Jimin looked askance at him, and then let his eyes roam around the room that held nothing except for the desk, the chair, and a single bookcase.
“Perhaps some paper and pens,” Yoongi amended.
Jimin laughed.
“Take your time,” he said.
Yoongi liked how warm and welcoming Jimin seemed, even from just this short interaction.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi quickly learned that Jimin was not just a charming and well-dressed first-year associate professor, he was also frighteningly well-organized and impossible to ignore. His kind outer demeanor belied a steely interior, and despite his initial friendliness, Yoongi got the distinct impression that he was the kind of man who would drop a printout of the entire faculty code-of-conduct onto Yoongi’s desk if he stepped out of line.
Any time Yoongi thought he might slack off - reply to an email tomorrow, half-ass his curriculum prep, just wing it - Jimin seemed to sense his lapse like a raptor scanning for rabbits in the grass, and fix him with a bright friendly look that nonetheless crackled with “don’t you dare make me look bad” electricity. And so Yoongi would return to his computer and bang away at his tasks, and so under Jimin’s guidance he was ready for classes to start with plenty of time to go.
Despite this ongoing “Jimin Effect,” Yoongi was still happier when the young man was nearby than not. He looked forward to their meetings, only after a few days of working together. It energized him, somehow, working directly with someone filled with so much determination and a clear point-of-view. (Also, Yoongi’s initial impression that he smelled really good hadn’t changed. That was a positive he had to admit he couldn’t ignore.)
Yoongi had managed to score an apartment in faculty housing, so he could walk to work. On Monday morning of his second week on the job, he had just left his apartment and clattered down the stairs, humming to himself and mulling over what he’d do when he got to his office, when - totally unexpectedly - Jimin appeared from around a corner.
“Oh! Good morning!” Yoongi greeted him, unable to stop himself from smiling.
“Good morning!” Jimin chirped back. “I had no idea you lived here too!”
“Yes, I really lucked out that I didn’t have to get placed on a waitlist,” he agreed.
That made him feel even better about living in this complex. If Jimin considered it good enough, then it must be a good place. Or so he told himself.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi tried very hard to get himself in a routine - take advantage of the gym in his apartment complex at the same time each morning, get to campus to do his prep work, starting learning the ropes and who was who around campus. He’d met Jung Hoseok, another very friendly professor in the math department, so that was something to build on.
Then, the first real test of his new environment: the faculty mixer on the last Friday before the start of school.
Yoongi parked himself in the corner of the room, near a very sizable potted plant with giant glossy leaves that were shaped a bit like medieval shields. Yoongi found it very symbolic, since he hoped by standing near it the chances that more than one person would try to talk to him at once would be lower. Unable to stop himself, though, he reached out and tapped one of the leaves, and it bounced quite fetchingly.
“Like a curious kitty!” came the teasing voice of Jimin out of nowhere.
Yoongi managed to not spill his drink as he whipped his head around for the source of the sound and saw that Jimin’s mischievous smile matched his tone.
“It’s a fiddle-leaf fig,” said another man that Yoongi hadn’t noticed before, who was walking towards him right behind Jimin.
He was a bit taller than the two of them, and had the haphazard body language of a man who’d been a string bean as a teenager and not quite realized how much muscle he’d packed on in adulthood. But he had a soft, welcoming face with round glasses, a few gray strands glinting in the dark hair over his forehead, and for some reason he was looking directly at Yoongi.
“Namjoon, this is Min Yoongi, the new math professor! Yoongi, this is Kim Namjoon from the literature department,” Jimin introduced him, beaming pleasantly.
“Nice to meet you,” Namjoon said politely.
Yoongi felt a strange tinge of anger at how friendly Namjoon and Jimin were being around each other. Something about the casual, close way Namjoon was standing - his body language was as if he were just about to throw his arm around Jimin’s shoulder. It was a ridiculous reaction on Yoongi’s part, given he’d only met Jimin two weeks ago and Jimin been part of this faculty for years - had probably been friends with this Namjoon for quite some time. It didn’t matter that this handsome literature professor towered over both himself and Jimin, and that his earth-toned sweater did nothing to hide how fit and strong he was. Whatever Jimin thought of Namjoon’s looks - or how they compared to Yoongi’s - was nothing of Yoongi’s business. Ridiculous - now he was causing himself stress for no reason at all.
Yoongi tried to think of something friendly and clever to say back. Maybe something about how “math” and “literature” were in a way the very core subjects of learning: making use of plain, basic numbers and letters to communicate the most complex subjects the human mind was capable of comprehending. Twins that existed at polar opposites of types of study in some way, but complemented each other nonetheless. And how odd it was that so many students chose to align themselves with enjoying one and hating the other. A fascinating contrast.
“We are enemies,” he said flatly, then blinked and took a sip of his drink, slightly impressed at his own ability to say the worst thing possible.
Namjoon almost spat out a mouthful of his own drink but proceeded to choke and cough instead, pounding on his chest with his free hand. Jimin doubled over in loud peals of laughter at Yoongi’s expense, slapping his own knee and stumbling sideways as he shook in amusement. Yoongi swallowed his mouthful of drink, and broke into a cold sweat as he chuckled awkwardly.
“I mean,” Yoongi went on, pitching his voice loud enough to be heard over Jimin, “like in a cat-and-dog kind of way, um, the way our subjects are so different. It’s nice to meet you too.”
Jimin managed to get enough of a grip on himself to speak before Namjoon did.
“It’s true! It’s actually true - if Yoongi is a curious math kitty, you’ve got to have the most puppy-like ‘please read my new favorite book’ energy out of the whole faculty,” he crowed breathlessly, still giggling and patting Namjoon’s shoulder.
“Ah, well, fair enough,” Namjoon agreed good-naturedly.
Yoongi observed them nervously, and tried to reassure himself that their eyes were sparkling with good-natured amusement. Namjoon did look him up and down. Well, he could do that all he wanted, Yoongi thought to himself stubbornly.
“I have always wanted a nemesis,” Namjoon went on, faux-thoughtfully.
“Done,” Yoongi agreed quickly, extending his hand with what he hoped was a mischievous air.
Jimin burst into laughter again as Namjoon grinned, and then reached out and shook Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi emitted another nervous laugh, feeling even more sweaty, and hoped that this was the beginning of a friendship and not a passive-aggressive trap. It was such a delicate balance to strike: figuring out who was genuinely kind and thoughtful and thus could be talked to normally, and who was just pretending to be nice and thus needed to be countered swiftly any time they tried to push boundaries.
Yoongi was already sure that Jimin was in the first camp. And if he and Namjoon were good friends - which they seemed to be, the more he watched their interactions throughout the party - then Namjoon certainly had to be one of the good ones too.
He wasn’t sure what had come over him, though. Going in to the party, he’d wanted to try to stay quiet as much as possible, to come across as professional and unimportant. But somehow, with Jimin there, he’d been far more expressive than he’d meant to be. Jimin just brought something out of him: ease, whimsy, he wasn’t sure how to describe it.
Yoongi got introduced to several other professors by Jimin, and got the impression that they were a sort of circle of friends. He hoped even more to get on their good side. There was Hoseok, of course, and then Kim Taehyung who was an associate professor in the literature department with Namjoon. And the final duo was Kim Seokjin and Jeon Jungkook, both over in computer science. A good cross-section, Yoongi thought. If a faculty had six genuinely nice people in it, one could hardly hope for anything more than that.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
“Oh, Professor Min, what brings you here?” Namjoon greeted him, looking for all the world like he was delighted to have a math professor darken his door.
“I wanted to apologize for what I said at the party. I…kind of imagined a whole speech in my head and then only said the last part,” Yoongi blurted out quickly.
Namjoon’s smile didn’t dim at all.
“Oh, goodness, don’t apologize for that, I wasn’t offended at all!” he said easily, waving Yoongi’s apology away.
Yoongi gave an awkward little bow of thanks.
“I hope we will still be nemeses, though?” Namjoon went on with a sparkle in his eye.
“Uh, yes - we shook on it,” Yoongi agreed with a nervous chuckle.
“Great,” Namjoon said, drumming his desk a little with his fingers.
“Well good morning, what are the two of you up to?” came Jimin’s voice from the door.
“Good morning, Jimin,” Yoongi greeted him.
The light in Namjoon’s book- and plant-crowded office suddenly seemed a little bit brighter.
“Yoongi was just here to discuss the terms of our nemesis-ship,” Namjoon announced grandly.
“Is that a real word?” Jimin asked with a grin.
“He’s got a doctorate in literature, he can make up words if he wants,” Yoongi said.
“Exactly! Thank you, Yoongi,” Namjoon replied happily.
“This is the most cordial nemesis-ship I’ve ever seen,” Jimin remarked.
“See, now you’ve accepted it as a real word,” Namjoon pointed out.
Jimin gave a resigned (but smiling) sigh.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi had survived the first week of classes. He’d battled his nerves and presented the material. It was, all told, not very different from what he’d done before. But he felt like he could do better. Jimin had come by his office and they were collaborating on some prep for the coming weeks.
“So, give me the scoop,” Yoongi said to Jimin, turning his chair around and scooting over. “Which professors here are the student favorites?”
“Oh, definitely Seokjin - um, Professor Kim, you met him at the party - in the Computer Science department,” Jimin answered without a second of hesitation. “He always gets the best year-end ratings.”
“What do they like about him?” Yoongi prompted, curious if there were any concrete reasons besides the man’s obvious charisma and good looks.
“He tells lots of jokes,” Jimin said with a what-can-you-do shrug. “Convinces the freshmen that it’s not too bad, and livens up the esoteric drudgery for the upper level and grad students.”
Yoongi considered this.
“I should try to tell more jokes,” he muttered to himself.
He ignored the way Jimin grinned teasingly at him.
A week later, Jimin, flipping through Yoongi’s lecture notes, suddenly let out a peal of laughter. Yoongi looked up at him in puzzlement. Jimin picked up the stapled packet and pointed out the little post-it flag Yoongi had put there. He couldn’t read it from this distance, but he remembered what he’d written on it: “tell joke.”
“I didn’t want to forget,” Yoongi muttered in embarrassment, and then turned back to his work.
“Oh, Yoongi,” Jimin said with a cute little sigh.
Yoongi ignored him. It had been a good joke! The students had laughed. But maybe next time he would just draw a subtle little smiley face on his notes instead.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi was at the front of the lecture hall, preparing for class to start in just two or three minutes, when he saw Namjoon - of all people - coming to sit in an aisle seat about halfway up the room.
“My nemesis!” Yoongi called out to him cheerily.
Namjoon looked taken aback, and a giggle went through the hall.
“I just wanted to speak to you after,” Namjoon called out with a self-conscious raise of his hand.
Yoongi gave him a thumbs-up. Namjoon folded himself up into a seat on the back row.
After class, Namjoon waited patiently until any students with questions had spoken to Yoongi and left, and then he walked with him back to his office.
“I like to come audit the ‘math for social sciences’ class every so often, especially if it’s a new teacher,” Namjoon explained. “I always end up with some students that get extremely anxious about math and I prefer to have a better idea of the full picture of what their classes look like.”
Yoongi was impressed.
“That’s dedication,” he remarked. “I bet they must appreciate that.”
Namjoon chuckled and shrugged.
“Well, not as much as you might think,” he admitted.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi thought it was only fair to return the favor, so he audited one of Namjoon’s classes as well. He chose one of the mid-size classes, so that he could blend in to the crowd. It was kind of fun, actually, to relive his days of taking required general education classes, and to put himself in the shoes of a student again.
“Today we’re going over the theme of ‘fated mates’ in historical literature. It’s one of the great Romantic themes and seeing how it gets tackled by different cultures at different times really gives us insight into human nature itself,” Namjoon stated up at the lectern. “And, it’s not only history than can illuminate the subject, but also science!”
Fated mates. Something about it tickled the back of Yoongi’s mind.
“Now, I encourage you to take Dr. Lee’s class - Bio 107, I believe - that goes into this in detail, but for those who haven’t read up on it, the scientific name for ‘fated mates’ is Diametric Aromacognition. There is still a lot about it that’s unknown, but it’s been studied and it’s definitely a reality. The theory is that hundreds of thousands of years ago, our ancestors were under some kind of evolutionary pressure that made it advantageous for a small percent of the population to seek out mates with the greatest possible amount of genetic diversity - someone who was not necessarily their opposite, but had many complementary qualities.
“At this stage in your schooling, you should all at least have covered basic biology - so I’ll just remind you that the importance of scent in finding others attractive is also related to genetics. When we describe each other as smelling like pine, or coffee, or cherries - that’s not actually what the scent is, of course, but it’s the easiest way we have of describing the complexities. Our scents are actually a genetic marker of sorts - they contain thousands of different chemical compounds relating to specific gene expressions.
“Diametric aromacognition is when two people have scent profiles that exactly complement each other. Now, you may wonder what does ‘exactly complement each other’ mean - that part of the science is beyond me. Like so many of the complex systems in our bodies, all this happens without our conscious knowledge. But it means that for those two matched people, the other’s scent goes directly to the pleasure and reward centers of their brains, and it gives them and instant predisposition to each other.”
A student in the front raised their hand, and Namjoon called on him.
“Is it like how seeing their baby produces oxytocin in the mother’s brain?”
“Yes!” Namjoon agreed. “It’s a very similar effect, in which a two-way bond is promoted. It has an actual, observable effect on the brain, and thus in how you reason and respond to that person. In the case of fated mates - sorry, I’m going back to using that term, it’s much easier to say than diametric aromacognition -”
That got a little chuckle out of the class.
“- it’s just as permanent and quick to form as the bond between a parent and a child. And, as we’ll see when we delve into the literature, it seems like it’s absolutely lovely to experience: the two sides of the bond not only fall in love, but also have increased feelings of wellbeing and confidence when they’re close to each other. Studies have shown that, in the modern day, fated mates live on average seven years longer! Stories about fated mates being forced to be apart are of course quite popular -”
Yoongi slouched in his seat. It couldn’t be. He and Jimin couldn’t be fated mates - it was just a crush. He tried to focus on Namjoon’s words, and not reflect on all the times he and Jimin had spent together. He listened to Namjoon - with great relish - delve into the classic examples of fated mates from literature. He clearly knew the material well.
After the lecture, Yoongi meandered back across campus to his office. He felt nothing but dread. Why had this happened to him? Just a crush he could conceal - but if this was a scent bond, then that meant Jimin felt it too. And of course, this would happen with the one person above all others that he absolutely could not get into a relationship with. His own associate professor! And Jimin was so young, too!
He only got about fifteen minutes to sit and stew and work himself into a really meaty downward spiral before Jimin himself showed up. Of course he would - he was always looking for excuses to spend time with Yoongi, wasn’t he?
Yoongi paid careful attention to his own mental state as Jimin walked in. It was a distinctly odd experience to feel Jimin’s scent wafting through his nervous system and, yes, give him that subconscious glow of happiness he always felt in his presence, but at the same time have a cresting wave of anxiety about it because of what it implied.
“Oh no, Yoongi, what’s wrong?” Jimin asked, closing the office door behind him.
Yoongi didn’t even know what to say. Maybe he was wrong and he was imagining it - and if he suggested to Jimin that they were fated mates, then the handsome young man would laugh in his face. But Yoongi knew that he was a terrible liar, so he wouldn’t get far trying to avoid it either.
Jimin looked very worried, so he’d need to come up with something. Maybe he could try to get him to meet him halfway.
“I went to Namjoon’s lecture today,” he croaked.
Jimin nodded, scooting the extra chair over so he was close to Yoongi. Offering support. Wanting to fix whatever had happened.
“It was about…fated mates.”
He forced himself to watch Jimin’s face. Jimin sat up straight with a bright, relieved smile.
“Oh! So you feel it too!” he gushed. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to bring it up - oh Yoongi - wait. Why are you upset?”
“Do you think we’re…fated mates?” Yoongi whispered, feeling even lower than before.
“I do,” Jimin said firmly. “I’ve felt such a pull towards you, and a connection from the very start - don’t you feel the same way?”
Yoongi nodded before he could stop himself, then buried his head in his hands.
“We can’t,” he whispered. “We can’t be together.”
Awful, awful, awful. Here was Jimin, so sweet and caring and full of smiles and optimism, and Yoongi needed to stomp on his beautiful hopes and dreams.
“Hey, talk to me,” Jimin urged him, gently touching his arm. “Why do you think we can’t?”
It seemed so obvious to Yoongi, but he supposed that it was only fair he’d be forced to say it all out loud.
“Because of the power imbalance - you’re my associate professor, it’s improper,” he explained, each word heavy in his heart.
Jimin shook his head dismissively.
“Power imbalance! Nobody will see it that way - I don’t see it that way.” he insisted.
Yoongi, though he hated himself for it, felt strongly that he needed to end Jimin’s hopes. It wasn’t to be.
“Jimin, we are just too far apart in age,” he insisted, though his heart ached.
Jimin looked dubious.
“The gap doesn’t bother me! We’re both well into adulthood, I can’t see how it could possibly matter,” he insisted.
But after a pause he did ask:
“Um, how old are you?”
“I have a doctorate and I’ve been a professor for fourteen years, how young could I possibly be?” Yoongi groused.
Jimin raised his eyebrows at him.
“I dunno, you seem like you could have been one of those child prodigies,” he said, unbothered.
“I’m forty, Jimin. Forty,” Yoongi said seriously. “I’m too old for you.”
“A twelve-year gap,” Jimin mused, not sounding nearly as put off as Yoongi had expected at such an earth-shaking revelation. “Well, you have a baby face and you give the impression of not having much life experience, so it really only feels like a gap of four or five years.”
“I! What! I have- I don’t - it does not!” Yoongi spluttered, piqued that Jimin had deflected his attempt at a firm rejection into just another occasion to roast him cutely.
Jimin giggled angelically, his eyes sparkling and his cheeks a lovely pink. Yoongi scrambled for a new tactic, before Jimin’s charms could override his resolve to do the right thing. If Jimin was adamant about not hearing a “no” right now, then he’d need to at least try for a “not yet” to buy himself time to escape.
“Jimin, listen, ‘fated mates’ is a very poetic name for what amounts to a biological oddity. I do like you very much-”
Jimin brightened up, so Yoongi tried to speak a little faster.
“- but we’ve only just met! Like you said, we’re adults. Let’s get to know each other, let me settle into this job, and if it’s meant to be then it’ll still happen even if I delay it,” he said, nearly pleading.
Jimin’s smile softened, and he looked very fond.
“You know what, saying like that it does make sense,” he said, sounding - to Yoongi’s relief and regret - rather sheepish. “I really could believe you were a child prodigy after all. Thank you for giving me the chance to win you over in my own way!”
He gave a little bow with a dramatic flourish, flustering Yoongi to the utmost. It was almost enough to drown out the dizzy feeling of grief that sat sour in his chest. He would have to keep saying “no” to Jimin, over and over again, no matter how much it hurt. That was the only correct path.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Another few weeks went by. He kept expecting Jimin to either pull away from him because of the rejection, or to keep pressing the issue. But Jimin just remained as he had been, always dropping by to check on Yoongi, setting up times for them to get their grading done together, being a lovely and supportive colleague. And Yoongi, of course, ate it all up. He just couldn't help it - his body yearned to be around Jimin. And now he was all-too-aware that Jimin felt the same way.
Finally, a crack appeared in Jimin’s patience. They had stayed a little late that day - they’d gotten the latest errata from the textbook publisher, and needed to correct a few course materials because of it. There were some of his slides that Yoongi thought might have copied the errors, and he wanted to do his due diligence - but it was tedious to go through and check. Once they finished that, Jimin had an archive of older class materials - including recorded videos - he wanted to give to Yoongi, so they had to sit and wait for everything to copy off of his USB drive.
They sat there in silence for a moment, looking at the slow-moving progress bar. Jimin seemed deep in thought. Yoongi didn’t feel the need to try to fill the silence, especially for someone as comfortable to be around as Jimin, so he stayed quiet.
“So, what kind of people do you usually date?” Jimin suddenly asked, the picture of innocence.
Yoongi blinked, feeling his brain reboot into conversational mode. And then feeling a burst of adrenaline as he realized the import of the subject matter.
“Uh,” he said.
Yoongi had very high standards for who he let his guard down around - especially after the stress of his last job - but Jimin disarmed him completely. Always had, from the very start. He wanted to tell all of his thoughts to Jimin, always, and it was only with conscious effort that he filtered himself into staying in “professional mode” around him - with very uneven success.
It didn’t help that Jimin was looking at him with such gentle interest on his face.
“Haven’t dated much as of late,” Yoongi finally said.
“Well that’s too bad,” Jimin said, daring to look Yoongi up and down a little provocatively.
Yoongi felt the hairs on his arms stand up. Jimin was just too..Jimin. Everything he did made Yoongi want to scoot a little closer, spend a little longer with him. He stayed silent.
“And what was your…” Jimin said, letting his voice drop so that Yoongi leaned towards him just a little out of instinct, “...presentation?”
Yoongi shivered and then felt himself blush. Talking about sub-gender presentations like this was undoubtedly intimate. Sure, close friends would talk about such things - but Yoongi was already well aware that Jimin’s end goal was not “close friend.” And Yoongi was also well aware that his own feelings for Jimin already went far beyond “close friend.” This conversation marked a definite crossing of a line they had stayed well behind until now.
But Yoongi blurted out an answer before he could stop himself.
“I’m an alpha,” he whispered, three-quarters regretting it even as the words came out of his mouth.
“Why do you say it that way?” Jimin said, his forehead crinkling up in concern and his eyes flickering all over Yoongi’s face.
“How am I saying it?” Yoongi asked uneasily, pulling away, looking away, picking at his fingernails, imagining if only he had the ability to sprout great giant bat wings and fly away from this conversation and go hang upside down inside a large plywood box installed by some kind-hearted biologist.
The numbers didn’t add up, though. Human density just wasn’t conducive to flight. And Yoongi’s density wasn’t conducive to him explaining anything about himself properly to Jimin.
“Like it’s something you didn’t want to admit,” Jimin replied, his voice sad and quiet. “Yoongi, what’s wrong?”
“It’s just-” Yoongi took a deep breath and tried to marshal his thoughts, “sometimes people are disappointed. I’ve had partners be, uh, well, I guess they didn’t expect it. Or something. I’m not like most alphas, that’s what they say. So-”
“That’s terrible! Oh Yoongi, I’m so sorry anyone would treat you that way,” Jimin exclaimed sympathetically.
Yoongi shook himself. He’d taken this conversation in entirely the wrong direction. He wasn’t trying to get Jimin to pity him.
“People can have their preferences, it’s fine, it’s whatever,” he grumbled.
“It’s not fine! Why would they say that?” Jimin went on rhetorically, offended on his behalf.
“Probably because of my baby face and lack of life experience,” Yoongi replied, shooting for “deadpan” but ending up somewhere around “pouty” instead.
Jimin gave him an exasperated-yet-fond look, smacking his arm with the back of his hand.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to meet so many jerks. I think it’s very fitting,” he insisted. “You’re exactly what I picture an ideal alpha should be like.”
Yoongi looked over at him, pressing his lips together in doubt. Literally nobody in his life had ever said such a thing before. Jimin gave him a small, sad smile and reached out for his hand. Yoongi let him take it, though he left it limp - he could barely feel his fingers. Jimin seemed to realize this, pressing and rubbing the joints where Yoongi’s fingers met his palm, though whether his aim was more to soothe Yoongi or himself was hard to tell.
“You’re so attentive and nurturing,” Jimin said, seeing Yoongi’s confusion. “You always hold true to your own values and point of view. You’re kind but never a pushover.”
Yoongi felt himself blush even more.
“Anyway, I might as well tell you I’m an omega,” he went on, his voice now almost as quiet as Yoongi’s had been.
Yoongi shivered again. He felt a rush of…well, he decided it was better not to give a name to what he felt that that revelation. Maybe this really had gone too far. Jimin…his fated mate…a gorgeous omega who smelled like everything Yoongi had ever wanted, and was right here at his fingertips, there for the taking if only it weren’t the exactly wrong thing to do.
He nodded and swallowed.
“You’re going to make…someone…very happy someday,” Yoongi croaked out.
Jimin scoffed at him, not meanly.
“And I already know who that someone is,” he said, gentle but confident. “Yoongi, I can see how you feel about me. Namjoon has even mentioned it to me. Nobody thinks it would be wrong. Can’t you give me chance?”
“Oh, Jimin, this is such a cliche!” Yoongi groaned, putting his head in his hands. “The older academic who suddenly rediscovers his zest for life through his desire for an enchantingly beautiful ingénue? It’s the exact same dumb story that a thousand mediocre middle-aged men have shopped around thinking it’s somehow unique or interesting!”
“You think I’m enchantingly beautiful?” Jimin asked brightly, scooting his chair closer. “Wait, tell me more about your zest for life!”
Yoongi just hung his head lower and groaned again.
“I’m sorry Jimin,” he said. “It wouldn’t be right. I just see this situation differently than you do.”
Jimin was silent for a long moment.
“I’ll get you to see it my way,” he finally said quietly.
The files finally finished copying, so Jimin took his drive back.
“Good night, Yoongi!” he said cheerfully. “Thanks for all your hard work, and I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Yoongi resisted the urge to apologize again.
“Yes, see you tomorrow,” he agreed weakly.
And then he was alone with his principles and his doubts and his fears for the rest of the evening.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Jimin didn’t bring up the subject again for some time - but Yoongi could tell he was trying to persuade him in other ways. As winter set in, he started wearing giant cozy sweaters all the time, with the sleeves always the perfect length to give him adorable sweater paws. (He did have some of the most enchantingly elegant little hands Yoongi had ever seen…) His cousin came to visit and he showed her around the offices, and for some reason he ended up carrying her adorable little baby around on his hip. Yoongi almost couldn’t take the cuteness, and he didn’t miss the wide-eyed way Jimin looked at him a few times. Just imagine, he was clearly implying.
Yoongi did the only thing he could, which was to throw himself even further into his work. He consulted with Hoseok, and set up a math “journal club” in the department where they’d all read and discuss publications together. He met with Jungkook, who was teaching the “programming for science majors” class and wanted to brainstorm ideas of semi-practical but still interesting challenges to give his students. He went and bickered with Namjoon whenever he got the chance, to the amusement of Namjoon’s junior professor Taehyung. He laughed at one of Seokjin’s terrible puns and was then inundated with at least one pun a day via text message after that.
By the time winter break had come and gone, Yoongi realized that he actually had friends. Quite a lot of them, in fact. And that was great.
Still, the only problem was Jimin. Well, Jimin wasn’t the problem: the feelings between them were the problem. Jimin was still clearly resolute in his desire to win Yoongi over. No matter how Yoongi tried to tell him no, whether gently or firmly (not that he was ever able to be all that firm about it, it be honest) nothing ever put him off. He wasn’t hurt or even discouraged.
He knew he was going to win in the end. And as the weeks ticked by, Yoongi was more and more afraid that he was right.
Near the end of March, Jimin came bustling into his office with a little something in his hands.
“I wanted to commemorate the day!” he exclaimed, handing it over to Yoongi.
“What day?” he asked, taking it out of habit.
It was a little notepad, decorated in the corner with a little cartoon cat wearing glasses.
“We met exactly six months ago today,” Jimin said, sounding maybe a touch self-conscious. “It’s just for fun, you know. And the little cat made me think of you.”
“Thank you,” Yoongi said, trying not to let the heaviness he felt into his voice.
It was a very cute little cat. That’s how Jimin saw him, he knew: he really didn’t think of Yoongi as someone who even could take advantage of him, despite Yoongi’s fears. To Jimin, Yoongi was just his coworker that he’d fallen in love with on sight. But Yoongi just couldn’t meet him there.
Apparently he didn’t succeed in looking unconcerned.
“Is it really so bad for me to give you a little gift?” he said in a small voice.
Yoongi felt like he was going to cry. This is exactly what he wanted to avoid: complications. That was impossible, he supposed, whenever humans were involved, there were always complications. He opened up his mouth to speak, to try to calmly push Jimin away again, but instead more words than he meant to just spilled out of him.
“Jimin, I just can’t mess things up here! You don’t know what I went through at my old university! The backstabbing, the gossip, the constant malicious undermining - I couldn’t live with the stress any more! I needed the fresh start here more than you can possibly know, and if I get on bad terms with people here I don’t know what I’ll do!” he cried, tears in his eyes.
“And yet very nearly the first thing you did when you got here was to declare vendetta on Namjoon!” Jimin declared, equally obstinate and impish.
“Well, look at his smug face,” Yoongi countered with a half-sob, half-laugh. “He deserved it, the tall bastard!”
Jimin laughed, giving Yoongi a moment to collect himself and dry his face. Then Jimin sobered up as well.
“Listen, Yoongi, I really am sorry,” he said softly. “I truly didn’t mean to cause you so much anxiety and worry. I can’t ignore the way I feel about you - the bond I feel between us - but I have never, ever meant to hurt you or pressure you.”
Yoongi gulped down the lump in his throat that he was still struggling to banish.
“And I just want to do right by you,” he replied, trying to stop his voice from wavering. “I just couldn’t live with it if, if, a few years from now you look back at this and think about how young you were and how I didn’t respect your needs and just took what I wanted.”
Jimin nodded thoughtfully.
“Twenty-eight can’t really seem that young to you, can it? When you look back at yourself at my age, do you really feel like you didn’t know yourself well enough?” he asked, gentle but close to pleading.
“Yes, I was a baby with no life experience,” Yoongi insisted, crossing his arms over his chest resentfully.
Jimin gave a half-laughing, muted shriek of aggravation and balled up his fists.
“You’re never letting me forget that one, are you?” he complained, stomping his feet a little.
“No,” Yoongi said coolly - but then couldn’t stop a wry smile from blooming on his face.
Jimin sighed cutely and calmed back down.
“I do see where you’re coming from,” he admitted. “I have been impatient, and I’m sorry for that. We can be colleagues, we can be friends - I really want to make sure your first year here goes well all the way to the end. I’m here for you. Okay?”
He smiled and held out his hand to shake. Yoongi accepted the gesture quickly, marveling in the back of his head at how much smaller Jimin’s hands were than his.
“Now, I really do need to review last week’s homework submissions,” Jimin said, standing up and stepping away. “Do you mind if I sit in here to do the grading? Just for body doubling?”
Still so patient and sweet, even in the face of Yoongi’s repeated rejection. Yoongi suddenly wished he’d lived an entirely different life, on an entirely different timeline, so he could be the kind of person who could say “yes” to Jimin instead of constantly saying “no.”
“Yeah, of course,” he agreed instantly.
At least they could have this. Sitting together in Yoongi’s still-mostly-bare office, typing away at their laptops, occasionally sharing a particularly bone-headed mistake by one of their students. Each time Jimin turned to him he could get a little curl of his lovely scent.
At least he could have this.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
It took all of Yoongi’s patience to make it through the final third of the school year, to handle students desperately searching for ways to raise their grades, to devise final exams, to get all the huge load of end-of-term grading complete.
But he did make it through, and he got to sit in the back row of professors at graduation and look forward to a day when he recognized more of the faces in the senior class, and the dean of the math department told him he’d done a good job and he was extremely glad Yoongi had joined them.
“Well, what do you think of your first year here?” Jimin asked him, dropping by as he decluttered his office (now full of papers, books, mugs, and abandoned pens) on the last day before campus was mostly closing for the summer.
“Oh, it went much better than I feared!” Yoongi exclaimed in relief. “I really like it here.”
He turned to Jimin.
“Thank you for taking such good care of me,” he told the younger man. “Your help here really made a difference. I really can’t overstate what it means to me.”
Jimin blushed a little and looked very pleased.
“I’m so glad,” he replied earnestly. “And I’m glad it’s all worked out.”
“It really has!” Yoongi agreed. “Have a great summer!”
“I’m certain I will,” Jimin replied - and then he winked at Yoongi as he left.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Jimin waited until three in the afternoon the next day, the first day of summer vacation, before he reignited his campaign for Yoongi’s heart. Yoongi supposed he had to be grateful for that: a very generous and luxurious lie-in indeed. But nonetheless at three, Jimin texted him that he was coming over for a chat and ninety seconds later he was knocking on Yoongi’s door.
Yoongi was electrified at the sight: Jimin was dressed casually. He had on slides and knit shorts and a t-shirt with a cartoon puppy on it, and his smile was hopeful.
“Hello,” Yoongi greeted him.
“Hello, and happy summer vacation,” he said with a grin, stepping inside Yoongi’s apartment.
“Yes, indeed,” Yoongi said, still a little dazed.
He wasn’t still in pajamas, but it was a close thing. He’d only gotten up perhaps an hour earlier, and was just as casually dressed as Jimin, in thin sweats and a baggy all-black t-shirt.
“My feelings haven’t changed,” Jimin said without further preamble. “I still feel a bond with you - and I know you feel it too.”
Yoongi nodded before he could stop himself, caught off-guard by Jimin’s blitz (as he always seemed to be).
Jimin sat down at Yoongi’s tiny little kitchen table and plopped a few pieces of paper down on it. Yoongi reflexively sat down on the other side, craning to see what it could be.
“I’m trying to provide a fresh perspective for you. This is the university’s Workplace Relationship Disclosure Form,” Jimin said, slapping his hand down on it. “Professors dating is really not that odd or scandalous as you seem to think. It can’t be, not if there’s a form for it!”
Yoongi picked up the paper. Indeed, it was what Jimin said it was.
“You came to seduce me with paperwork,” he said in astonishment at Jimin’s brazenness, holding the form in front of himself.
“And then, there’s - hold on,” Jimin said, pulling another folded piece of paper from the pocket of his shorts.
He unfolded it and turned it upright, eyes scanning over it.
“In the twenty years since our University was founded, there have been seventeen of these forms filed. In all cases, both sides of the relationship still kept working here for at least three years after the filing,” he recited.
“Where did you get this data from?” Yoongi asked.
“Ah, well, do you know what kind of software and databases small universities like ours use for administrative tracking?” Jimin quizzed him. “Ones that were written and maintained in-house by the computer science department, usually!”
Yoongi stared at him.
“So I got Jungkook to look this up for me,” Jimin concluded with relish. “Now, to continue: in case you were going to object that those numbers are likely staff and not faculty, eight of those seventeen relationships involved professors. All eight of those professors stayed on for at least five years longer. In addition, five of those seventeen relationships involved pre-tenured professors. And-”
He held up his finger and gave Yoongi a significant look.
“All five of those went on to gain tenure, and stay at least three years longer after the filing. All of this together establishes a pattern of NO retaliation or career impact.” he concluded triumphantly.
“What is this - have you been preparing to switch to pre-law?” Yoongi muttered.
“I’m achieving my goals through whatever means necessary,” he retorted airily. “And now let’s take a look at something else. The national figures for divorce rates are around eight percent. For alpha-omega marriages, it’s only four percent. And for alpha-omega marriages where the alpha is eight or more years older than the omega, the divorce rate is…”
He looked up at Yoongi again, eyebrows high, the fingers of his free hand tapping on the table in an ersatz drumroll.
“TWO AND A HALF PERCENT!” he cried. “Nearly a quarter of the general rate! Relationships like ours are, on average, MORE SUCCESSFUL!”
He tossed the paper down as if doing a soft little mic drop, and then looked at Yoongi expectantly.
Like ours.
“You came to seduce me with paperwork and data,” Yoongi remarked dazedly. “We really are fated mates.”
Jimin giggled delightedly.
“I want you to see that I pay attention, you know! I’ve done like you asked, and learned about what kind of person you are and what’s important to you, and this is my proof,” he said, entirely pleased with himself.
Jimin had waited, like Yoongi asked. Their bond hadn’t faded in the slightest, and they both knew they both knew that. All of Yoongi’s objections had gradually crumbled and weakened over the past months, and Jimin had just gleefully kicked away the withered remains of the last few Yoongi had been clinging to.
It hit Yoongi like a hammer to the face: this was the most loved and seen he’d ever felt in his life. Jimin didn’t just want him because of some archaic, vestigial scent bonding hormone thing, he actually genuinely wanted Yoongi, the person.
“Are you crying?” Jimin asked.
“No,” Yoongi lied, sniffling and wiping his eyes.
He stood up, took a deep breath.
“Jimin, can I take you on a date?”
Jimin beamed.
“A thousand times, yes,” he declared joyously.
“Well, that will take a while. If we assume, optimistically, that we could go on three dates per day, that will still take almost a whole year,” Yoongi replied brightly, “but I’m up for it!”
Jimin clutched his chest and groaned in pained laughter.
“Just one? Right now?” Yoongi went on, feeling far too pleased with himself.
“Right now?” Jimin echoed, still giggling.
“Yeah, let’s go!” Yoongi urged him, mind already whirring.
The thing about teaching at a university was that you also got to be near all the places catering to students. So there were plenty of little restaurants and vendors and places to hang out near campus. There was a little historic district there, which Yoongi hadn’t ever had a chance to see yet, so they walked down the stone-covered streets and marveled at reconstructed hanoks and read all the informational plaques. Then they got some snacks from the food carts nearby, finally choosing a little hole-in-the-wall ramyeon place for a proper dinner.
And it was all just…so easy. Everything was wonderful and fun with Jimin there, especially now that Yoongi wasn’t fighting against his own most potent desire. Jimin was so visibly happy and relieved that Yoongi had accepted him, and practically each moment that passed made Yoongi more and more sure that he’d chosen correctly. How could it be wrong, when it felt so nice just to walk hand-in-hand, to point out the shapes of clouds together, to hustle across a too-fast crosswalk together, to decipher a smeared cheap menu together?
They got back to their apartment complex, and Yoongi hesitated. Were they going back to one place or another, or separating for now…?
“You know, I still haven’t gotten a kiss,” Jimin remarked, taking Yoongi’s hand and walking him briskly in the direction of his own apartment.
“Should we…amend that?” Yoongi asked cautiously.
Jimin laughed. They reached his door, Yoongi’s heartrate already picking up. He felt his focus narrow in on Jimin’s face. He heard the door closing again behind him, and his hand was still in Jimin’s, and then Jimin was right in front of him. He’d never in his life - not in person or in a photograph or a movie or anything - seen a face more in need of a thorough kissing than that one.
As Yoongi leaned in and their lips touched, he knew instantly he wouldn’t be able to stop. Jimin was simply too delicious, too yielding, too eager and perfect. Yoongi’s body and mind had been yearning for him for months now, despite his best efforts to tamp his feelings down - and no doubt Jimin felt exactly the same. (Well, with much less efforts on his part to tamp his feelings down, of course.)
Jimin’s plush lips opened under his at the first hint of pressure, so Yoongi dove in and tasted him. He put his hands on either side of Jimin’s waist, enjoying the feel of his heated skin through the fabric of his shirt. He shifted his body forward, angling one of his legs so that it pressed in between Jimin’s. And here, too, Jimin yielded, moving his legs apart to let Yoongi move himself as close to Jimin as two fully-dressed humans could conceivably be.
Heat pooled in Yoongi’s gut and he greedily pressed his thigh into Jimin’s front even as his own underwear started to feel tighter. Any last vestiges of doubt he might have had evaporated completely as Jimin continued to make pleased noises in response to Yoongi’s kisses. The time for hesitation was over. Yoongi was going to claim Jimin, and make him feel so good that he’d never think of anyone else again.
The thing was, Yoongi was very good at math. Very good. It was a subject that had always come to him easily, even in college. Yes, his graduate and doctorate work had been challenging, but his first three years of undergrad had been a breeze. A joke. He could complete all of his coursework with no effort at all, and no extra studying.
And that, of course, had left him with plenty of excess time and mental energy for other pursuits. The main one being, of course, getting to know the bodies of himself and all his other eager and willing classmates. This was their chance to explore their sexuality for the first time after presenting and moving away from home. Back then it was easy to find other people who wanted to experiment in low-stakes encounters, and it seemed like fewer folks cared that he was a little on the short-and-slender side for an alpha, and his cute smile and attentive hands and lips were enough to win the attention of someone in his horny cohort for a hookup whenever he wanted.
He’d left all that behind years ago, and had all-but-forgotten that side of himself. He’d matured, focused on academics and career when it was needed, grew out of wanting to participate in hookups. But he hadn’t ever quite been able to get much success in dating as the years went past, and by the time he was in his late thirties there had been so many years of not being wanted in that way that it had started to seem like there wasn’t anyone for him.
But here was proof he was wanted. His body remembered this, no matter how many months he’d spent denying what was right in front of him, and all of his desires roared back to life.
He was an alpha. And Jimin was his omega. He could smell how badly Jimin wanted him, how very ready Jimin was for him to act on it.
Yoongi slid his hands to rest on Jimin’s waist, teasing his fingers under the hem of his shirt until he could feel his soft skin directly. Jimin lifted his arms up to rest on Yoongi’s shoulders, threading his fingers through Yoongi’s hair and pulling him even closer. Yoongi had him pressed against the wall, and Jimin had him squeezed up against him. Yoongi could feel Jimin’s hips starting to rock ever-so-slightly against his thigh, the point of his arousal getting harder and harder.
Finally, Jimin leaned his head back to break the kiss, though his hands remained massaging Yoongi’s hair.
“You’re wearing entirely too much clothing,” he complained, his voice a little rough and his lips swollen and pink.
He spun away and yanked Yoongi further into the apartment, tugging him into his bedroom. Yoongi took a long, delicious sniff as he stumbled through the door to this precious space. It was infused with Jimin’s scent, and Yoongi caught glimpses of ivory-colored blankets and pillows and a neatly organized white dresser as Jimin whirled him inside.
Then Jimin, next to the bed, started flinging off his clothes as if he was ferociously offended by them, and Yoongi didn’t have eyes for anything else. Jimin’s smooth chest, the curve of his waist, his meaty legs…
His ass. His perfectly formed butt, that was crying out for hands to come squeeze it. Yoongi bit his lip and kept dragging his own clothes off, ending up standing naturally on the opposite side of the bed from Jimin. Jimin threw back the covers impatiently, sending several pillows flying, to which he paid no attention at all.
He looked over at Yoongi, who was down to just his socks and underwear. Yoongi saw his eyes light up as they ran up and down his body. He blushed a little, which was ridiculous, but slid off his briefs and quickly threw his socks after them.
“Look at you,” Jimin said breathily, naked and crawling on his knees across the bed, his arms outstretched.
“Look at you,” Yoongi rejoined.
Jimin reached for him and pulled him onto the bed, guiding Yoongi to lie down on his back even as they resumed kissing. Jimin curved and twisted to keep their lips connected as they maneuvered, and Yoongi couldn’t stop himself from moaning as he finally settled down on top of him, hot skin touching everywhere and their cocks bumping together between them.
They teased themselves for a little while longer that way, all lined up to maximize contact but not lined up to take things any further, kissing and caressing and working themselves up into an almost unbearable state of arousal. Yoongi could hardly think of anything else but how Jimin’s scent was swirled around him, almost as physical and pleasurable a sensation as the feeling of Jimin’s hands exploring his body.
Finally, though, Yoongi could feel a few drop of Jimin’s slick drip onto his thigh and he couldn’t hold back any longer. He tipped a smiling Jimin over on his side, reaching down to fist over his cock a few times. It was perfect: hot and smooth in his palm, oozing precum, twitching a little from the stimulation. Jimin moaned, and then moaned again when Yoongi reached further to cup his balls. Jimin reached out and got his own hand on Yoongi’s cock, the two of them scooting on their sides to give each other access, hearts hammering almost audibly in their chests.
Jimin slowly stroked Yoongi’s cock, sending pleasurable tingles through his whole body, while Yoongi continued to explore. Yoongi reached down even further and rubbed the tip of his finger over Jimin’s hole, marveling at the enticing feeling of the slick that had leaked there. Jimin lifted up his leg to give Yoongi better access, still stroking, though his movements hitched a few times as Yoongi pressed down, and then gently breached in.
So wet, so warm. Yoongi slid his finger in and out slowly, watching Jimin’s face, noticing the way his tongue came to rest against his teeth and his breath became panting as his finger got deeper with each movement. He added a second finger and started angling inward, feeling triumphant when Jimin’s hips started to rock in time to his movements. He was barely moving his hand on Yoongi’s cock by then.
“Yoongi, please, more,” Jimin finally stuttered out, the first words that had been spoken since they’d laid down together. “I’m ready.”
Yoongi had never heard words he liked more than those. He quickly rolled his body up and Jimin scooted himself into the middle of the bed, sprawling his legs out to either side of Yoongi. As he grabbed his cock by the base, Yoongi took just a moment to appreciate how Jimin was spread out in front of him, happy and eager in his own bed - rather smug, actually. This was what he wanted this whole time, Yoongi thought to himself absently. And now he was right where he wanted to be. Jimin’s perfect eyebrows were starting to indicate some impatience, so he lined himself up with Jimin’s hole before Jimin was forced to urge him on any more directly.
The tip slipped in instantly, the glide deliciously easy from Jimin’s slick. Jimin gave a little encouraging hum even as Yoongi gasped, the intensity of the wet heat taking him by surprise. Jimin’s body welcomed him in, so even as he leaned forward and pressed deeper there was no resistance, just gripping pleasure around him.
Then he was fully sheathed, his pelvis flush with Jimin’s, his hands on either side of Jimin’s flushed face, their scents mingled just as thoroughly as their bodies. Yoongi leaned down to kiss him, and then rolled his hips slowly. Just like before, he watched Jimin’s face, felt the minute shifts of his hips and legs underneath him. A few nice slow thrusts to feel things out, to make sure Jimin’s body had adjusted. He felt incredible around him, every square centimeter squeezing him perfectly and igniting his nerves.
It was the easiest, most natural thing to simply speed up his movements, setting up a good steady rhythm that had both of them panting. Jimin had his hands up in Yoongi’s hair again, and then caressing his shoulders, and trailing over what he could reach of Yoongi’s back.
Yoongi shifted just slightly, spreading his knees just a bit further apart, making it easier for him to pick up the pace just a little faster and spear Jimin’s sweet spot just a little more forcefully. He was rewarded by seeing Jimin’s face start to go slack with pleasure. He dropped his hands from Yoongi’s shoulders, letting them fall forgotten above his face, thought Yoongi could see his fingers curling and uncurling reflexively.
Yoongi was sure he’d never felt such heights of pleasure in his life - each motion send golden waves coruscating through his whole body, shimmering in his belly and his chest and all the way to his scalp. Of course Jimin was perfect for him - he’d been made for him, made for Yoongi’s body, made to wrap him up like this and bring him to feel things he’d never felt before.
Jimin’s eyes started to flutter closed, and his head dropped further back, his mouth open and his breaths turned to moans. It gave Yoongi a fierce joy to see him coming undone like this underneath him, his chest heaving and his back arcing up off the bed. He could feel the sweat beading at his temples and his own orgasm just about ready to crash into him, but still he kept up his rhythm, pounding ceaselessly into Jimin until he finally clenched - hard - and cried out and trembled uncontrollably.
Yoongi moaned at the tight feeling of Jimin climaxing around him, and then the last vestiges of his restraint finally dissolved. He dropped his head to Jimin’s neck and chased his own pleasure, plunging in again and again with the full force of his legs and abs, each motion sending waves of unbelievable sensations up and down his cock. Then he, too, tipped over the edge, spurting hot into the deepest part of Jimin as every nerve in his body sizzled and glowed.
Then after that final plunge and desperate grinding, all he could do was lie limply on top of Jimin, miles of sweaty skin trembling and pulsing, Jimin’s breaths hot against his cheek and his own hot against Jimin’s collarbone. The raw stickiness of Jimin’s cum trapped between them equally a proof of ecstacy and a threat not to let it linger too long.
As soon as he was capable of operating his physical form again, Yoongi lifted his head up just enough so that he could start peppering little kisses everywhere that was in easy reach - Jimin’s jawline, his neck, his cheek, his collarbone. Jimin giggled breathlessly and then turned his head to capture Yoongi’s lips in a soft kiss, and then a few more. Heavenly.
Finally, Yoongi carefully slid himself out and off of Jimin’s body, and flopped down next to him. He was going to be a little sore from this, he could tell - his abs, his back. Worth it. Maybe he’d start making his workouts in the gym a little longer - he was only barely forty, after all.
“Wow,” Jimin finally said, sounding just as satisfied as Yoongi felt.
Yoongi folded his hands on top of his chest and smiled. And this was only their first time together! There was still so much of Jimin’s body he hadn’t had a chance to explore, in their eagerness to join together for the first time - he needed to suck him off, maybe eat him out, see how he responded to having his nipples played with, experiment with positions…maybe Jimin might even want to top Yoongi at some point. Too many enticing possibilities to count.
“I need a glass of water,” Jimin went on, a little dreamily.
That did sound amazing, Yoongi suddenly realized.
“I’ll get it,” he replied instantly.
He interrupted Jimin’s surprised little laugh with a quick peck, then rolled out of bed, pulled his underwear on, and padded out of the bedroom. A quick handwash, a quick rummage through Jimin’s cupboards to find the glasses, a little happy hum to himself as he waited for the (agonizingly slow, seriously why was it made that way) cold water dispenser in the fridge door to fill two of them up, and then he was going back to hydrate his omega.
Jimin was just strolling out of the bathroom, also back in his briefs after whatever personal cleanup he’d deemed necessary, a lazy smile on his face and his hair still thoroughly mussed.
“Thank you,” he said, taking the glass.
Yoongi watched him drink, watched the way his throat moved and how his eyes closed in relief. Jimin drained the whole thing and then caught Yoongi watching him, amusement warming his eyes. Yoongi found himself unable to think of anything except Jimin Jimin Jimin Jimin.
“You’re so cute,” Jimin said teasingly.
“I love you,” Yoongi replied earnestly, standing there at the foot of Jimin’s bed in only his underwear, holding an untouched glass of water.
Jimin looked like he might cry of fondness.
“I love you too,” he said, and then leaned in and kissed Yoongi - very carefully, so not as to disturb the glass of water.
Soon they were back in the bed, cuddled up under just a sheet. (The early-summer evening was still quite warm.) Yoongi still felt as if he were drifting mostly in a dream. Everything was just so lovely and perfect. He couldn't remember ever having a time in his life where he felt so at ease, where it finally felt like he’d ended up where he belonged.
He and Jimin had the whole summer together in front of them. And then they’d be teaching together again, with all their friends to meet with and laugh with. Yoongi fell asleep with his nose tucked close to Jimin’s neck and dreamed of rainbow waterfalls and giggling puppies.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi woke up in the morning to find Jimin already awake and watching him. He smiled sleepily over at him and was rewarded by seeing a smile blooming on Jimin’s face in return. Jimin had to be kissed, of course, and once he had been kissed he needed to be pulled close and kissed again, and so in no time they found themselves once again naked and with the sheet thrown off, their hands all over each other.
Yoongi, wanting to experience as much of Jimin as possible, kissed down his neck and chest, then his belly. Jimin was very hard already, his cock pink and straining. Yoongi scooted himself further down the bed and, with a quick glance back up at Jimin’s flushed face, kissed the tip of it. Then he engulfed the tip entirely, swirling his tongue.
Jimin gasped, stiffening his legs as if he were trying not to thrust his hips. Yoongi got himself fully between Jimin’s legs and took him further into his mouth, relishing the feeling of the smooth, delicate, intimate skin against his tongue. Jimin lay back, his chest heaving and his hands fisting in the sheet again.
Yoongi was just working up a steady rhythm, Jimin’s arousal fragrant and potent, when Jimin reached down and tapped his head.
“Okay,” he gasped, “please, I need you inside.”
Yoongi kept Jimin’s cock in his mouth but looked up at him with big pleading eyes.
“Don’t make that face,” Jimin said with a breathy laugh. “I want to ride you.”
Yoongi pulled off slowly with one more roll of his tongue, enjoying the way it made Jimin’s whole body jerk. Then Jimin was yanking him and pushing him down and clambering on top.
“This way those poor old knees of yours can get a break,” he teased, even as he sat himself atop Yoongi’s thighs.
Yoongi scoffed. His knees were, in fact, possibly complaining after yesterday’s athletics, not that he was going to admit it. The experience he was getting now, of Jimin looming above him and giving his cock a few languorous strokes in preparation, was worth whatever teasing Jimin wanted to dish out.
Jimin lifted himself up, Yoongi helping him with his hands on Jimin’s hips. He admired how nice Jimin’s waist looked with his fingers splayed over them. Jimin got himself lined up, and then the heat of his body was once again closing over the tip of Yoongi’s cock, and then sinking tightly over it. Yoongii watched him all the way down, the way his cheeks got even pinker and his eyes fluttered with pleasure.
Jimin got to work, each steady bounce of his legs and hips moving Yoongi’s cock in and out of his body and working the both of them up quickly. Yoongi’s hands had free reign to roam wherever he liked: making little circles with his fingertips over his nipples, squeezing and massaging his perfect rounded buttcheeks, caressing all over everything he could reach.
“I’m, I’m so close,” Jimin finally gasped, eyebrows drawing together. “Just…just a little harder…”
Yoongi got his hands back on Jimin’s hips instantly, planted his heels, and matched the motion of his hips with thrusts of his own. Jimin moaned loudly, again and again, his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders then. His voice pitched higher and higher and higher, and Yoongi’s grip got tighter as Jimin shook in his gasp, until finally Jimin threw his head back and came hard, his hips bucking and his cock spurting all over Yoongi’s belly. Yoongi came at the same time, pulsing inside him, his vision almost whiting out.
They almost fell back asleep after that, but Jimin pried himself out of a doze (and out of Yoongi’s arms) to go shower. Yoongi showered after, and emerged to discover Jimin well on the way to cooking him a hot breakfast.
“It’s the least I could do after working you so hard,” Jimin said with a distinctly lecherous wink, sliding him a hot cup of coffee.
Yoongi sipped the coffee, watched him cook, and thought of nothing but Jimin Jimin Jimin Jimin.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Summer whipped by with incredible speed, and soon it was time to start preparing for the next school year. Yoongi knew he still needed to finish submitting the form to the school to acknowledge their relationship, and so one afternoon he finally sat himself down and forced himself to fill it out.
Several large blank sections glared at him, demanding a sterile and acceptable description of said relationship and why it was permissible. Yoongi sighed.
“Do you need any help with the wording?” Jimin offered from where he was lounging on Yoongi’s couch, legs akimbo and hair fluffy.
“No, I’ve got it,” Yoongi assured him.
He then started pretending to write, saying it out loud at the same time.
“Guess what…I have…fucked…my associate…professor…and there is…nothing…you…can do about it,” he declared proudly.
Jimin burst into laughter, dropping even further down on the couch. Yoongi grinned over at him. He then filled it out for real. How strange, Yoongi thought, to be forced to meditate on something like this. But after everything, all the involvement of fate, biology, bureaucracy, and stubbornness, he was in love with Jimin. And Jimin loved him back. The rest would just have to fall into line accordingly.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
Yoongi couldn’t remain confident all the time, of course. He and Jimin took a nice little walk together to campus, where they swung by the administrative office and dropped the extremely unromantic form into the dropbox there to be processed when the clerks were back full time in a few days. The weather was still on the hot side, but not unbearable, and there was a nice breeze and enough trees for a reasonable amount of shade.
But once they got back to Yoongi’s apartment, a wave of worry suddenly overtook him. What if he did get in trouble? What if any of his friends decided they didn’t think he should be with Jimin after all? Nothing was guaranteed - it could still go terribly, somehow.
“Hey, talk to me, what’s wrong?” Jimin asked, pulling him to sit down on the couch.
Yoongi shook his head.
“I just…get anxious about everything,” Yoongi whispered, fingers clenching tightly to the arm of the couch. “I know it’s irrational. It’ll be okay. I’m, I’m capable of handling it. But I’m just struggling right now. Sorry.”
“It was a big step to turn that in,” Jimin agreed. “But it’ll be fine, I know it.”
“I know,” Yoongi replied.
He did know. But he also didn’t, and his heart was pounding because of it.
“My poor anxious baby,” Jimin murmured.
He scooted closer and reached out for him, his gentle fingers caressing through Yoongi’s hair.
“M’not a baby,” Yoongi muttered poutily, “m’older than you.”
“Baby,” Jimin repeated emphatically, his tone equally teasing and affectionate.
“Your baby,” Yoongi whispered shyly, giving in.
Jimin came even closer squeezed him tight with his other arm. Yoongi melted into him, savoring how Jimin kept him pressed close while he kept massaging Yoongi’s scalp. He was wrapped up completely in Jimin’s scent, all of his stress drifting out of his body as he ascended away from it all on happy clouds.
————⟦ e𝛑i + 1 = 0 ⟧————
(At the faculty party at the start of the year, Yoongi no longer had to stand next to the fern for comfort. He had Jimin whenever he wanted, lovely sturdy Jimin, to follow around and fetch drinks for and keep his hand on the small of Jimin’s back whenever he wanted. The rest of the faculty accepted them being together with an almost maddening level of acceptance - Seokjin even mentioned that he thought they had been dating last year.
And so life went on, and Yoongi taught his new students the same equations he had ever year, but this time he could be glad every day that fate won in the end.)