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The first time Taehyung meets Jungkook is not at one of the university’s baseball games, but in the pool – a.k.a. his turf. Or what should be his turf. Except Jungkook has a mean, powerful stroke. Why is he swimming anyway? Shouldn’t he be hitting balls with his stick and whatnot?
“Shouldn’t you be playing with balls?” Taehyung calls out when Jungkook surfaces from the water. Taehyung is standing at the edge of the Olympic-sized pool, trying not to appreciate how good-looking Jungkook is as he runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back to bare his forehead. Taehyung also tries not to appreciate the broad angle of Jungkook’s shoulders or the way the water droplets glisten so dazzlingly on that sexy chest—
“You mean… baseball?” Jungkook hazards a guess, shooting Taehyung a weird look. Jungkook climbs up out of the pool, his arm muscles flexing nicely as he gets to his feet.
Honestly, who let this bastard film his cliché romance drama here? “More like a D-grade web-toon,” Taehyung mutters furiously under his breath, as he continues staring at Jungkook’s firm body. God-fucking-dammit. Jungkook isn’t even a regular swimmer – why is his physique already more impressive than his own when he’s been swimming since he was a wee lad?
“What? Did you say something?” Jungkook asks, squinting at Taehyung.
Taehyung folds his arms over his comparatively unimpressive chest and harrumphs. “Why are you here, Jeon Jungkook? You’re not a swimmer. It’s 6 a.m. Shouldn’t you be fucking your hand, jerking off to whatever shoddy, nasty porn you watch?”
Jungkook’s eyes widen. He blinks his eyes a few times.
Okay, so the hostility is probably uncalled for. Jungkook is two years younger than him, but somehow a prodigy in everything he attempts. Jungkook is already the captain of the university baseball team, which is pretty much next level bullshit, because who the hell even makes captaincy after one year? Jeon Jungkook, that’s who. And now Jungkook decides he wants to take over the pool now? Hell no, the swim team’s captaincy is Taehyung’s (right after Minho graduates), and no one else’s.
“I don’t know. Did you want to watch me jerk off or something?” Jungkook ends up saying, slinging his disgustingly wet arm around Taehyung’s shoulders. Jungkook smirks, all lop-sided and stupidly charming that Taehyung wants to kiss him silly—no, wait, what the fuck?
Taehyung chortles, trying not to blush at the image of Jungkook wrapping his palm around his own cock and—okay, this is getting out of hand. He slaps Jungkook’s arm away, and then with all the might he possesses, he shoves at Jungkook.
With a loud splash, Jungkook lands in the pool once more, looking far more frazzled and far less cocky. Ha. Serves him right.
“This pool is mine,” Taehyung says, knowing he has Jungkook’s avid attention. “And you are not welcome.”
“Pretty sure anyone who pays the university amenities fees is privy to using the pool,” Jungkook replies, completely unfazed again as he floats onto his back. “So you gonna stand up there the whole time posing or are you gonna join me in the pool?”
“Let’s compete. If I beat you at a hundred metres freestyle, you leave and swim elsewhere,” Taehyung says.
“And if I win, you have to give me your number and be my personal cheerleader at my next baseball game,” Jungkook replies, without missing a beat.
Taehyung wonders if this had been Jungkook’s plan all along but shrugs off the thought. Rolling his shoulders back, all the pride of a man who has been swimming his whole life, he nods. “Okay, sounds like a deal. You know how to dive off a starting block? Or do we gotta do it like amateurs?”
“Like amateurs, of course,” Jungkook says, grinning widely.
Taehyung senses that Jungkook only says such because he wants to stare at his ass while he climbs down the ladders into the pool. Yep, those eyes are definitely trained to his backside. Taehyung tries to keep the smugness off his face when he knowingly meets Jungkook’s stare.
“One lap. The first one back here is the winner,” Taehyung says, placing his palm on the tile. Surely Jungkook knows that Taehyung is the better swimmer. Jungkook’s relentless confidence has Taehyung wondering if he is going to try and cheat. Would not put it past him to do so.
“Ready when you are,” Jungkook says, putting on his purple goggles and looking as stupid as fuck.
Taehyung has to bite down on his bottom lip to stop himself from bursting into laughter. God, Jungkook went from a ten right down to a three thanks to those—
“Go!” Jungkook says abruptly, breaking off into his freestyle swim.
“Hey! Hey, how’s that fair?” Taehyung yells, forgoing his goggles and going straight into his freestyle. He is at least several metres behind Jungkook. Swimming is all about keeping a steady pace and not rushing into anything, but Jungkook is actually a decent swimmer and somehow manages to maintain the distance between them. Jungkook’s machination was most likely this: trick him into thinking he had the upper hand, and then completely dishonour the rules of a fair competition. Whatever. Taehyung isn’t trying his hardest, because why waste his energy on something as unimportant as this? Taehyung lets Jungkook win this one, just because.
Just because Jungkook is actually a pretty decent swimmer and doesn’t seem like he’s using this pool to piss Taehyung off.
Also because Jungkook is hot. But that is so not the point.
When Taehyung reaches the end, his head surfacing from the water, he sees the pleased smile on Jungkook’s face.
“I win,” Jungkook says, his goggles dangling from his neck. He probably realises just how stupid he looks with them on, right?
“I let you win,” Taehyung corrects as he makes his way to where Jungkook is standing, the gravity in the water slowing him down. He pokes Jungkook’s solid chest with his finger, trying not to seem like a pervert with the way he glances at Jungkook’s nipples. “And you cheated too. And you got to wear goggles, and I didn’t even put mine on, so I had to deal with chlorine burning away at my eyes.”
“We didn’t agree on any rules,” Jungkook retorts, moving closer. Taehyung does not back away. “I win. Guess I’ll be getting your number and seeing you cheerleading at my next game.”
Taehyung laughs, stopping as he meets Jungkook’s heated gaze. “I think I got something in my eye,” Taehyung says, trying to stamp down whatever tension there is between them. No, absolutely not. He will not play a part in this ridiculous romantic charade or whatever it is. Taehyung has higher standards than Jeon Jungkook! Taehyung’s love is swimming, the pool, the water. He has no other interests, à la any other archetypal protagonist of a sports anime.
Jungkook cups Taehyung’s chin with one of his hands, moving closer. “Hm? Your eye seems fine,” Jungkook says, tilting his head to the side.
Jungkook is way too close. Taehyung can smell the chlorine of the pool on Jungkook’s skin, can see how there are still droplets of water on his eyelashes, can almost feel Jungkook’s lips on his.
Before Taehyung can slap away Jungkook’s hand, there comes a shrill female scream from behind him.
“Oh my god! Did you just see that, Mijoo? Jeon Jungkook was just making out with Kim Taehyung!” yells Myungeun, so loudly that Taehyung is sure the whole university campus has heard.
Taehyung pushes Jungkook away, turning around and seeing the wide-eyed stares of two of the girls in his swim team. “It’s not what it looks like!” Taehyung shouts, his cheeks red from embarrassment.
“Oh my god, Taehyung is blushing,” Mijoo says, cooing. She and Myungeun make their way from the entrance to the pool to where they are with a skip in their steps. They smile at him and Jungkook in the strangest, weirdest of ways. “Oh my god, you two are so cute! We promise we won’t tell anyone. Don’t worry, your secret is safe with us.”
“Jungkook!” Taehyung whacks Jungkook on the bicep. His blush refuses to go away, and Jungkook continues staring at Taehyung’s unfortunate skin problem. “Tell them that it’s not what it seems like.”
Jungkook shrugs. Turning to the girls, he says, “Just don’t tell anyone ‘bout this.”
The girls squeal louder.
Taehyung wants to drown Jungkook.
*
On Saturday morning, after Taehyung has finished his swimming practice, he receives a text from Jungkook that reads: Don’t forget. You’re my cheerleader today. See you soon, hyung.
Taehyung rolls his eyes. Right. Totally. He may have forgotten about that. Not that he had planned on honouring his promise, just as Jungkook had not honoured a fair swim. But then, when Taehyung thinks about Jungkook looking towards the crowd, searching for him but not finding him, he would hate to see that cute, disappointed expression on Jungkook’s face enthralling thousands of more fangirls. So, with three-quarters of his mind made up, Taehyung hurries to take a shower, all the while planning an appropriate cheerleading outfit for Jungkook. Absolutely no pom-poms or skirts – Taehyung has his pride.
What was Jungkook’s jersey number again? Sixty-nine, probably.
Taehyung ends up dressing normally. Or as normal as his wardrobe allows him to. An over-sized striped red shirt that looks like something straight from the pages of a Where’s Wally? book and black pleated pants. He does end up making a sign that says: FIGHT JUNGKOOK!
The remainder of the ‘fighting’ part, and the comma part – Taehyung had conveniently run out of fluorescent decorative art material for, and honestly, it was still better than his original ‘FUCKBOY JUNGKOOK CAN FUCK ME, A BOY’, of which, there was absolutely no truth to. Just something punny his mind had conjured up, of course.
When he makes his way to the stadium, the baseball park’s address texted to him by Jungkook, he is surprised to see a large throng of people already lining up to make their way inside. This is only a university game after all – nothing on the levels of major league baseball, and baseball isn’t even that popular in Korea. Then as Taehyung reaches the end of the line, he realises the majority of the people in the queue are female, all very young and impressionable, and undoubtedly all fans of Jungkook, considering the fan-made signs they are carrying too.
Gathering his courage, he asks the young female in front of him, “Do you usually come to these baseball games?”
“Oh, yes, always! Jungkook oppa is amazing, isn’t he? You’re a fan too, right?” The fan notices Taehyung’s amateur sign and giggles. “Jungkook oppa will be happy seeing a male fan! There’s always a huge crowd for him, since he is considered the most proficient national-level university baseball player. I even heard there’s scouts from the various teams that make up the Japanese Professional Baseball League and the American Baseball League who come here for Jungkook. He truly is amazing, huh?”
Taehyung nods, a little overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the fans and just how great Jungkook purportedly is. He has heard of Jungkook before, but trying to separate the great international playboy demi-god these fans idolise versus the pervert in the pool is like diving into a shallow pool – difficult and idiotic. For Taehyung, Jungkook is just… not exactly plain, per se, but different to the image he projects.
But then again, Jungkook did make him his personal cheerleader today, so who is Taehyung to think Jungkook is anything but another scummy jock?
Once the queue starts moving and Taehyung realises that people actually pay money to buy tickets to these non-swimming sports events, he quickly and furiously texts Jungkook: Yah! You didn’t tell me this shit cost money. I’m in the queue and panicking 
.
Jungkook replies immediately with an eggplant emoji that has Taehyung wanting to throw his phone to the ground to escape the disturbing imagery.
Unfortunately, Taehyung is not given the dastardly rehabilitating opportunity. A shrill cacophony of female screams and that one lone male yelling has Taehyung looking up and realising Jungkook is at the ticket gates. When his eyes meets Jungkook’s, Jungkook motions to him with his hand, as if signifying for him to skip the queue and make his way over.
There are whispers here and there. Someone says, “Oh my god, do you think that rumour about Jungkook oppa kissing a guy at the swimming pool is legit? Do you think that’s him?”
Taehyung panics, looks behind him to see if there is in any way someone else who Jungkook is motioning to, and then looks back at his phone to see another text from Jungkook that reads: cum here bb.
Taehyung stares a few seconds at the text message. Then he draws his shoulders back, head held high and makes his way to the barriers, where they let him in as soon as Jungkook says, “He’s with me.”
“I’m with him,” Taehyung says, for the dramatic effect. He can feel the lingering, burning glares of jealousy – of course, directed at Jungkook for having snagged such a cutie as his cheerleader. After all, Taehyung is no average joe, having earned a hefty scholarship covering the expenses of all his Fine Arts courses thanks to his athleticism in the swimming field.
As soon as Taehyung crosses the ticketing barrier, Jungkook slides his arm around Taehyung’s waist, pulling him in and hugging him close. Taehyung thinks, What The Fuck? Because seriously, what kind of move is that? Taehyung jumps away, shoving at Jungkook’s arm, and finalises his retaliation with a scowl.
Jungkook beams.
Taehyung bites down on his tongue to stop himself from smiling.
“So, what time does the match start?” Taehyung asks, attempting some type of conversation while blatantly checking out Jungkook in his baseball team uniform.
“Thirty minutes,” Jungkook answers. “Come sit on the bench where the view is best. Plus, Coach Jin is really friendly.”
Taehyung refrains from rolling his eyes. “I know nothing about baseball,” Taehyung admits, keeping an amicable distance from Jungkook while they are walking across the field. “Are you sure your teammates won’t roast me?”
“Hell nah, you’re mine to roast,” Jungkook says, without missing a beat. Taehyung sees a hint of red on Jungkook’s cheeks when he realises what he has said. Jungkook fakes a cough into his fist and then says, “Nice fan-board by the way. Can tell you really put your heart and soul into making it.”
“It took five seconds,” Taehyung lies, stopping in his tracks to affirm what Jungkook’s jersey number is. Fifty-eight. “Really? Out of all the numbers and you chose the one that sounds most like oppa?”
Jungkook shrugs, grabbing Taehyung’s hand and leading him forward. “I don’t mind being called oppa if you’re the one doing it.”
“Only at your funeral,” Taehyung retorts, huffing at how difficult it is to remove his hand from Jungkook’s grasp. Hand-holding? More like hand-napping. People in the stands would undeniably be receiving the wrong kind of image about them.
When they arrive at the bench, Coach Jin, in his black cap and looking like a fast food chain store manager, welcomes Jungkook back with a: “Hey, Kookie! You brought your… friend?”
“We’re dating,” Jungkook says mock conspiratorially.
“We are not, yah!” Taehyung ready to whip Jungkook’s ass in a totally not sexual way. Managing to free his hand from Jungkook’s, he says, “I’m only here because I was conned and blackmailed.”
“Blackmailed? You lost to me at swimming—”
“You cheated, you cheater!”
“You just don’t want to admit that I’m good at everything I do,” Jungkook says, pushing the sleeves up past his elbows in the heat of the moment, even though there is no fight in his words, only a fond amount of teasing.
Running through a million possible comebacks, Taehyung ends up saying: “Don’t push your sleeves up. Your arms scare me.”
Taehyung wants to whack himself with his fan-board. Or whack Jungkook. Taehyung watches him flex once more just for show, before Jungkook does the whole universe a favour and rolls his sleeves down, flashing Taehyung one last smirk of victory.
“Okay, so,” Coach Jin interrupts, his expression having changed from slight interest to deadpanning, “if you two are done flirting here, I need Jungkook to talk to his team members. Yoongi said he wanted to see you earlier, so make sure to talk to him. And uh, Jungkook’s… friend, you can watch from the side-lines, and if any of these batters are shit enough to hit a ball this way, move outta the way, okay? Otherwise, don’t make too much of a ruckus and I’m cool with you being here.”
Jungkook nods his goodbye to Taehyung.
Taehyung replies with, “Fight, Jungkook!”
Jungkook grins, and then he is running off to his other teammates.
Taehyung takes his spot next to the university baseball team’s mascot, a small yellow chick.
“Hey, the name’s Jimin,” he says, giving a friendly smile, holding the mascot’s head in his arms. “Normally I tell people to keep their eyes out for Yoongi, who’s the fastest runner in our team, but since you’re already biased towards Jungkook, I figured it’d be pointless trying to get you to cheer on someone else.”
“So, is Jungkook as great as they say he is?” Taehyung asks, offhandedly curious and not because he wants to get to know Jungkook better.
“Yeah, he’s like our five-tool man – he does everything and he does it well, but they mainly have him pitching – throwing the ball – and hitting the home-runs. He’s a force to be reckoned with, and I know Jungkook has already gotten a few love calls from agents. Ya wanna know what kinda numbers they’re throwing at this kid? Millions – and I’m not talking about Korean won, but dollars here. The moment Jungkook gets signed is the moment he hits international fame – that kid has got a huge life waiting ahead of him, but eh, he says he won’t be playing professionally until he graduates anyway,” Jimin explains, jabbering on as though they have been best friends since they were little kids. Looking at the time, Jimin says, “But hey, it’s good to see Jungkook show interest in something – or someone – outside of baseball. Glad you’re here and hope I’ll see you at the celebration party ‘cuz hell yeah, we’re totally gonna win! Have fun, yeah?” Then Jimin, after putting on the mascot head, runs over to the stands to hype up the crowd’s enthusiasm.
The baseball match starts without a hitch. The stands are filled with tens of thousands of fans, far more than what Taehyung had thought was possible for something as small as a university game. His assumption that such popularity is due to Jungkook being a big-shot baseball player is confirmed when Jungkook is the first on his team to pitch.
Taehyung is too caught up staring at Jungkook’s thighs and that nice ass when he does the first throw. He hears the commentator say, “Strike!” and even though he has no idea what that means, he assumes it’s something good since Jungkook is smiling smugly.
At the second pitch, Taehyung tries to focus on what Jungkook is actually doing, but then as Jungkook starts throwing the ball, Taehyung ends up checking out Jungkook’s arms. (Jungkook: one. Taehyung: zero.) Taehyung is interrupted from his stupor by Coach Jin shouting, “Nice curve ball!”
In the end, Taehyung figures he is unlikely to ever appreciate the mechanisms of baseball, but at the very least, he can appreciate the biomechanics of Jungkook’s body.
Jungkook’s team ends up winning, with a large percentage of the score deriving from Jungkook’s phenomenal pitching and batting. Taehyung stays by the side-lines while everyone in the team is congratulating each other – a strange view, considering the fact that swimming is mostly a solo sport, so he hardly has anyone ever being this genuinely excited about his win. Again, probably further proof that Jungkook’s talent is far beyond the norm.
Once Jungkook has made his way through the crowd, he runs to Taehyung, and Taehyung tries to think of something equally clever and mortifying to say, only to be picked up in a hug and swung around like he is one of those baseball bats.
“Hey!” Taehyung says, although the excitement reaches him too and he ends up grinning. “You can’t just pick me up like we’re in some corny romance movie.”
Jungkook does not apologise, setting Taehyung back on the ground.
Taehyung freezes in Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook is looking at him so strangely, eyes bright and full of promises. Taehyung turns away, hoping Jungkook doesn’t intend on kissing him, because he has no plans of letting that happen today, least of all in front of thousands of people.
But then Jungkook pulls away to join in the celebration with his teammates, walking away without him, and Taehyung is left wondering what had happened – if he had imagined whatever cliché sparks that had flown between them. If, in that moment, he had actually wanted Jungkook to kiss him.
*
Taehyung never invites Jungkook to his swimming events, but somehow, for some reason, Jungkook turns up to his next one: a fifty metre freestyle swim. Taehyung notices him right before putting on his goggles when he is stepping onto the starting block. Jungkook isn’t with the supporters in the audience, but on the other side where the remaining pools are, so Taehyung doubts he came here for him.
Taehyung chokes just a little seeing Jungkook in Speedos. Last time, Jungkook had worn swimming trunks. This time is a disgrace to Taehyung’s virtue.
Nevertheless, Taehyung has no time to waste on ogling Jungkook, or to even think about him. Trying to focus, he manoeuvres into a starting position, waiting for the whistle to blow. Taehyung knows his own personal best is nowhere near good enough to qualify for the Olympics, so having Jungkook – baseball extraordinaire – watching him is borderline embarrassing.
“Hey, good luck,” says the guy next to him, Lee Minhyuk.
“Thanks, you too,” Taehyung says, although his words come out robotic.
Emptying his mind, Taehyung looks ahead into the water. Just act like this is the same as every other swim meet before, Taehyung reminds himself in an attempt to calm his nerves. When the whistle blows, Taehyung dives into the water with little time to think about whether he reacted quickly enough to the noise. Body moving of its own accord, from years and years of practice, Taehyung moves in sync with the water, muscle memory affording him a smooth path to victory. Not until he reaches the other side of the pool does he finally tell himself to breathe again. Taking off his goggles to see where he stands with the others, Taehyung wonders whether his morning practices have helped him improve.
His time is 26.79 seconds, which ultimately, is pretty good, except his competitor, Park Jinyoung from another university, beats him at 26.20 seconds.
Taehyung shrugs off the loss. He still has the two hundred metre butterfly and the four hundred metre relay race to win for next week’s swim meet.
Getting out of the pool and pushing his hair out of his eyes, Taehyung notices a slack-jawed Jungkook staring at his wet body from the side-lines. Albeit amused, Taehyung is in no mood to deal with Jungkook’s bullish jock antics, so he heads straight for the changing rooms instead of staying behind to talk to the other competitors. Not until he is taking off his swimwear does Jungkook make his way in as though he was a part of the swimming competition.
“What are you doing here?” Taehyung asks, turning around so that his back is to Jungkook. His ass might be on display, but that is entirely the point. He cannot have his Massive Dong facing Jungkook in case it sets off bouts of jealousy, or worse: Jungkook might think it to be an invitation to have a special sword fight.
“Didn’t realise you had a race,” Jungkook says, moving towards the showers instead of next to Taehyung, thank god. “Came here to swim and work out, only to find out one of the pools was restricted. You were pretty good, though.”
Taehyung hears the shower head turn on. Wondering if he should go home reeking of chlorine or if he should just face the embarrassment of communal showers, he is brought out of his own thoughts by Jungkook’s taunt of “I would’ve swum better than that though.”
Snorting in disbelief, Taehyung leaves his belongings on the bench and heads over to the showers, careful not to slip and accidentally make a fool out of himself. “What did you just say?” Taehyung demands, his voice weakening the moment his eyes take in the view of Jungkook showering completely nude, the tiny swimming attire abandoned on the floor beside him.
Trying his best not to think about Jungkook’s dick, which is big and nice and really pretty actually—Taehyung clears his throat, stepping up to Jungkook and poking his chest (damn, fuck, Jungkook has a stellar body). “You take that back!” Taehyung says, refusing to be distracted by how serenely the warm water rolls down the planes of Jungkook’s hard body. “How the heck would you even swim better than me? You’re just a baseball player.”
Jungkook is unperturbed, giving Taehyung a long look, scanning him from top to bottom. Taehyung tries not to blush when Jungkook looks down there. He has nothing to be ashamed of, even if Jungkook’s is slightly more impressive. “You gonna shower too, or you just gonna stand there looking cute?" Jungkook asks.
Taehyung does end up blushing. Turning away furiously, he starts his own shower, reminding himself that Jungkook is an asshole who is trying his best to get on his nerves. He scrubs at his own skin with the stocked soap that smells like lavender, not bothering to shampoo his hair. The last thing he wants is to break out into a Disney song during his cleansing rituals and have Jungkook make fun of him for it.
“Can you help me?” Jungkook asks, mischief clear in his words.
Taehyung turns to acknowledge Jungkook’s presence once more. “With what?” Taehyung says, trying not to look at anywhere in particular. The tiled wall behind Jungkook looks better than Jungkook’s face anyway.
“Soaping my back?” Jungkook says, his wide eyes conveying innocence. “I think I tore a ligament in my right arm when I was pitching during baseball practice yesterday.”
Taehyung squints his eyes, wondering if this is some haphazard ploy for Jungkook to get touched by him. “Apologise first,” Taehyung says.
“Fine.” Jungkook rolls his eyes like the brat he is. “Sorry.”
“For what?” Taehyung crosses his arms.
“For making fun of the fact that you didn’t get first? And for saying that I could be a better swimmer than you?”
“That’s right, you better be sorry!” Taehyung nods, enjoying his small victory. “Okay, fine, I’ll soap your back for you.”
Jungkook turns around, facing away from Taehyung.
Taehyung keeps his eyes firmly stuck to Jungkook’s dumb head, refusing to look lower down and appreciate how nicely shaped his ass and thighs are. Dispensing a few drops of soap in his palm, Taehyung slaps the liquid soap onto the broad expanse of Jungkook’s back, trying not to get too touchy-feely. “There! Done!”
“Hyung!” Jungkook protests, whining. “Do it properly.”
Taehyung pouts. “Fine,” he says, hoping not to pop a boner in such an unfortunate moment. His hands travel from Jungkook’s shoulders, down, down, down, following the natural curve of his spine to his tailbone and stopping at the small of Jungkook’s back. Jungkook’s skin is soft, softer than Taehyung had imagined, and hot to the touch. Not that Taehyung has thought about touching Jungkook this intimately before, absolutely not. Working up a soapy lather, Taehyung rubs up and down Jungkook’s back multiple times, trying not to linger too long. Once he is finished, his hands at Jungkook’s waist, his voice wobbles as he says, “Okay, done!”
When Jungkook turns around to rinse his back, Taehyung’s eyes widen at the sight in front of him.
“Why… why is your…” Taehyung cannot bring himself to voice what he sees.
“Why is my what?” Jungkook says, completely casual.
Surely Jungkook realises? Or not…?
“You’re hard,” Taehyung says as though the comment is normal shower-speak between two bros. In all his years of washing up after swimming practice, he has never had a situation that mimicked the plotlines of a poorly written gay porno.
“Yes, I am,” Jungkook says, glancing down and making a hey, not bad face. “You’re great with your hands,” he explains, as though that is enough of an excuse. “Also, you kinda are too.”
Taehyung looks down, and seeing his half-hard dick, automatically wants to cower in the nearest corner. “Shut up, we are never talking about this again.”
“Sure, if that’s what you want,” Jungkook says.
“That is exactly what I want,” Taehyung replies, staring steadfastly at the wall in front of him.
“Okay, if that’s what you mean,” Jungkook says, and Taehyung is sure he is mocking him at this point.
Still. Taehyung cannot bring himself to not respond to Jungkook. “It is exactly what I mean,” Taehyung says.
“Okay, can you bend over and pick up my Speedos for me? My waist hurts from baseball practice,” Jungkook says, in the same conversational tone he had before.
“Sure,” Taehyung replies far too quickly. “Wait.” Taehyung looks at Jungkook, and seeing that Jungkook is waiting for him expectantly, Taehyung frowns. “Fine.”
Taehyung makes his way over to where Jungkook’s garment is lying and bends over, only to almost trip and keel over thanks to the slippery floor. Bending over with his ass in the air was not a genius move to get Jungkook hot and bothered – Taehyung realises far too late when Jungkook’s hands are immediately at his hips, steadying him.
At that precise moment, a few other swimmers on his team enter the changing room and see the spectacle in front of them.
“Holy shit!” screams Hoseok, already scrambling in the other direction. “My eyes!”
“Jesus fucking Christ, in the shower room, really?” Namjoon mutters, scandalised and shaking his head.
The swimmers leave, and Taehyung can hear someone shouting, “Don’t go inside; Jungkook and Taehyung are literally fucking around in the showers.”
Taehyung cringes, standing up with Jungkook’s unnecessary help. Taehyung bats at Jungkook’s arm and sniffles. “You really shouldn’t’ve done that,” Taehyung says. “Now there’s gonna be even more rumours about us.”
Jungkook shrugs. “There’s always rumours about me with people. Doesn’t mean it’s true. I don’t mind though, if it’s about you.”
Taehyung freezes at those words, skin feeling cold despite the continuous warm spray of water. “Is this another game for you?” Taehyung asks, wishing he could swallow his words the same way he swallows the gut-wrenching feelings making their way up. First base, second base, third base – Taehyung wonders what kind of bullshit rumours filled with baseball innuendos are going to be running rampant throughout campus now thanks to Jungkook. “Are you just messing around with me?”
“What—” Jungkook stammers. “No—”
Taehyung shakes his head, thinking back to the time when Jungkook had showed up at the pool. When the girls had caught them in a seemingly scandalous situation, Jungkook had said nothing to disprove it. Now and again, Jungkook had created a provocative display that could prove to be detrimental to his swimming career, all the while Jungkook is on his guaranteed path to success.
“Don’t lie to me, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, feeling less outraged and more disappointed in himself for not realising. “I know the rumours about you. International playboy, isn’t it?” he says, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. “You fuck around with people just to make it easier for when you overtake them. You don’t give a shit about destroying other people’s reputation because you already know you have a perfect, starry road ahead of you.”
Taehyung turns away from Jungkook, only to have Jungkook pull him back and push him against the wall. “Those rumours aren’t true,” Jungkook says, adamant. “You should know better than to believe rumours, especially when you know what’s real and what isn’t.”
Jungkook kisses him then, and in any other situation, Taehyung would be elated. Jungkook’s lips are soft and pliant, but Taehyung does not kiss him back. Biting Jungkook’s tongue, Taehyung leaves him reeling and shocked. Serves him right. Taehyung takes the opportunity to push Jungkook away, saying, “If you think everything can be forgiven with just a kiss, you’ve got another thing coming, Jeon Jungkook. Don’t bother me again.” Grabbing his belongings and wrapping a towel around himself, he exits the changing rooms for another area where he can wash up in peace.
He hopes he never sees Jungkook again.
*
When Taehyung had graduated high school, he had thought he had left salacious rumour-spreading behind. He had thought that at a place as vast as a university campus, he would not have to deal with such ridiculous rumours. Whispers follow him wherever he goes, and he knows that in any other situation, if he had been fucking around with anyone except Jungkook, there would never be this much noise.
Alas, Taehyung had been distracted by that no-good-body and that devastatingly un-charming smile and that flabbergasting face. Stupid Jungkook and his stupid, stupid stupidity.
After his afternoon lecture, Taehyung makes his way to the pool. He stops in his tracks, seeing Jungkook already inside the building, changed into his swimming trunks, albeit not yet swimming. Taehyung hesitates, wondering if he should still swim today. He swims every day. And Taehyung does not know a Jeon Jungkook, anyway.
Making his way inside whilst low-key avoiding Jungkook’s general direction of sight, Taehyung is halted in his tracks by not the man of his wet dreams but two robust underclassmen. They are new faces to the swim team. Since they don’t compete in the same swims that Taehyung does, he is unfamiliar with them.
“Hey, Taehyung, sorry to let you know but we’d rather no homos in this swim team,” says one. “We don’t want anyone checking out our asses while we’re swimming, y’know? And in the changing rooms too.”
The guy next to him shudders. “Yeah, that shit is nasty. Can you quit the swim team? It’ll be easier for all of us.”
Taehyung clenches his fist, unable to stop himself from scowling. “Whether I’m gay or not is none of your business, but who are you to police who can swim or not? I’ve been swimming long before the both of you, and if you really have a problem, you should be talking to our captain about it.”
“That’s the thing. We know Minho is your friend, so of course he’s not going to see this the same way we do,” replies one of them. “But, ugh, just the thought of swimming in the same pool as you? Who knows what kind of nasty shit you’ve been doing? Don’t wanna get HIV, y’know?”
Even if they are pissing him off beyond belief, Taehyung knows it’s a pointless fight, so he remains silent.
“So, scram,” says the other, leering at Taehyung’s comparatively scrawny body, “before an accident happens to you, y’know what I mean?”
Taehyung bites down on his lip, then decides fuck it, because swimming is pretty much his whole life and there is no way he is going to let some rumours or a bunch of fuckwits destroy that. “No. And if you continue threatening me, I will report you.”
“Who’re you gonna report us to?” laughs one of them, moving forward to shove at Taehyung.
Taehyung keeps his balance, taking one step back. “The police,” he says, using whatever comes first to his mind.
“What, you’re gonna report me to the police for that?” he asks again, stepping forward.
Adrenaline courses through Taehyung’s veins, although the feeling is different to when he is swimming. There is nothing peaceful or calming about this panic. Regretting his actions already, Taehyung takes another step back, hoping no fight results from something as silly as a bunch of fake rumours.
Thankfully, that is when someone steps up in front of him, giving Taehyung the chance to escape further consequence and shielding him from any possible attacks.
“Jungkook?” Taehyung says, recognising his saviour. “W-why’re you here?”
“I’m your supposed, rumoured boyfriend, remember?” Jungkook says, turning to grin at Taehyung. “Of course I’m gonna throw some fists for you.”
Taehyung’s eyes soften, unable to believe that Jungkook would charge headfirst into a fight. “But, Jungkook,” Taehyung says, realising neither of the bullies have backed down, “you shouldn’t. You’ll get suspended from the baseball team.”
Jungkook shrugs, his hand curling into a fist.
Taehyung grabs his arm, clutching tightly and stopping him in his actions. “It’s not worth it,” Taehyung says, because the reality is that he is worth less than Jungkook’s sporting career. Why would Jungkook risk his reputation and his future in baseball just to protect him here – when Taehyung cannot even win first in swim meets, but still thinks his position on the team is worth fighting for? Reiterating and meaning every word, Taehyung says, “I’m not worth it.”
Jungkook seems to catch the implication and shakes his head. “I’d punch a shark in the nose for you, so shut up about not being worth it—”
Jungkook is interrupted by one of them opening his mouth and saying, “I feel like throwing up seeing you two. Jungkook, my man, why are you fucking around with a loser like him?”
“Do I even know you?” Jungkook deadpans, trying to pull himself out of Taehyung’s protective hold. “Say one more word, and you’re gonna be saying hello to my fist.”
“Hey Hyunseung, we should go,” the smarter guy says, except Hyunseung steps forward to lunge at Taehyung.
Taehyung lets go of Jungkook to defend himself, shielding his face with his arms. The punch that he hears does not land on himself. When Taehyung opens his eyes, just a teeny bit fearful, he sees that Jungkook is the one who had let his fist fly.
“C’mon ya wanna go?” Jungkook says, glaring at them both, standing in a classic offensive stance while half-naked – fists balled, knees slightly bent, ready to fight the world for Taehyung. “If you come for Taehyung again, I’m really gonna show you what a one hundred mile per hour throwing arm can do to your body.”
With that, both of them scramble off, Hyunseung clutching at his battered cheek.
Once they are out of sight, Taehyung lets out a sigh of relief, thanking Jungkook with a tight hug. Letting go, he realises his clothes are now all damp. “Thanks, Jungkook, you really should’t’ve done that though. I don’t want you getting kicked off of your team for me,” Taehyung says, frowning and wishing he could have done more to prevent what had occurred. Even though he might know a few defensive moves of his own, he loathes getting into altercations with others, and he knows being an official member of a university sporting team requires a clean record too.
“Nah, it’ll be fine. There’s no way they’re gonna kick me off the team when I’m as great as I am,” Jungkook says, to which Taehyung sighs for even worrying about him. “Plus, they really deserved it. They were ready to bully you off the team for a rumour that’s not even true – what a bunch of dim-witted idiots.”
Grabbing Jungkook’s hand and leading him to the changing rooms where they will have more privacy, Taehyung replies, “The rumours might have some truth in them.”
“How so? Are we dating?” Jungkook asks, looking far more hopeful than Taehyung could have ever expected.
“Yeah? If you want,” Taehyung says, unable to stop his smile from blossoming on his face.
“Yeah, I’d like that,” Jungkook says, biting at his bottom lip.
Taehyung moves in then, cupping Jungkook’s face with one hand and the other tangled in his wet hair. Jungkook meets him halfway for the kiss, chaste at first, until he says, “Can you suck the boo-boo on my tongue better?”
Taehyung tries not to laugh into the kiss, but still, he loves his sloppy make-outs, and sloppy make-outs with Jungkook are on another level altogether. Running his hands across Jungkook’s body, he feels the tension in the muscles dissolve away. Taehyung loves touching Jungkook, loves feeling the warmth of his skin against his own.
As Taehyung delves deeper into Jungkook’s mouth, sighing into the kiss, he ends up being picked up by Jungkook and carried against the wall. Moaning, Taehyung mutters, “You’re so fucking hot,” grinding down against Jungkook’s erection, trying to maintain some sense of composure, but Jungkook seems to sense his aching desperation because he starts humping him against the wall.
“You’re wearing way too much,” Jungkook groans, sliding his hand under the waistband of Taehyung’s pants and palming him. “Leaking pre-come already?”
“Shut the fuck up and get me out of these clothes,” Taehyung replies, trying not to think about Jungkook’s fingers grasping tightly around his dick, thumb digging into his slit and making Taehyung more of a mess than he already is. Ironic how Jungkook is the one half-naked and Taehyung is wearing too much.
Jungkook strips Taehyung of his pants and his boxers in one fell swoop, already bracing Taehyung against the wall again. Taehyung tries not to get turned on by Jungkook’s display of strength, but then Jungkook’s swimming trunks fall to the floor and he can feel Jungkook’s cock slapping against his ass, and Taehyung swears he could nut at literally any moment.
“Do you have any lube?” Jungkook asks, mouthing at Taehyung’s neck. “Condoms?”
“Hope you’re not sucking a hickey there,” Taehyung says, moaning as he grinds his ass down against the stiff line of Jungkook’s dick, his own erection pressed against Jungkook’s abs, smearing pre-come across his skin. “And no, do I look like the type to carry those things around all the time?”
“What are you gonna do if I do leave a hickey, hm?” Jungkook says as he takes his time kissing Taehyung’s neck, biting a bruise at the junction between neck and shoulder. Jungkook snakes his hand up Taehyung’s shirt, thumb pressing at a pert nipple and rubbing slowly, making Taehyung squeeze his eyes shut at the overwhelming sensations. When he sees Taehyung bite his bottom lip to stop himself from moaning loudly, Jungkook leaves a kiss on Taehyung’s lips, all the while maintaining his slow rut, brushing the head of his cock against Taehyung’s rim every few seconds, pre-come helping ease the slide of his cock between Taehyung’s ass cheeks.
Taehyung tightens his legs around Jungkook’s waist, arms around Jungkook’s neck, as he goes in for the ride. “Fuck, I want you to fuck me so bad,” Taehyung whines, going quiet at the feeling of Jungkook’s full length rubbing at his hole. Taehyung makes a noise that sounds like a sob, desperate to feel Jungkook inside him but knowing that the only way either of them are going to get off today is by frictional humping. Bringing Jungkook in for another open-mouthed kiss, Taehyung says, “You’re the fucking worst, Jeon Jungkook.”
“But I fuck the best,” Jungkook retorts, bracing Taehyung against the wall to grab his length, running his hand up and down Taehyung’s dick. Jungkook jerks Taehyung off until he comes with a cry, spilling onto both their abs.
“I’ll clean up the mess,” Taehyung says, voice weak and wobbly, as Jungkook rests him back on his feet. Kneeling on the hard floor, Taehyung presses a kiss to Jungkook’s abs, then down Jungkook’s happy trail to where Jungkook’s dick is hanging flushed and hard, ready for Taehyung to blow.
Fortunately, this time no one walks in on them, and Taehyung would not have it any other way.
*
“I was thinking we should totally pollute the pool,” Jungkook suggests casually after swimming practice one day. All the patrons are gone save for them, and the doors to the inside pool should be getting locked up any minute now.
“Define pollute,” Taehyung says, sitting by the edge of the pool, kicking water at Jungkook who is waddling cutely in the water.
These days, while Jungkook has baseball practice and non-stop work out sessions, Taehyung sometimes accompanies Jungkook to cheer him on when he is not swimming at the pool. They might live in two separate areas of sports, but somehow the dichotomy works. When Jungkook is restless and exhausted from baseball and the gym, he heads to the pool to relax with Taehyung, and when Taehyung thinks he would happily drown in the water, he makes his way to batting practice with his very helpful and hands-on teacher, Jungkook.
“I’m gonna suck the come right outta your dick,” Jungkook proclaims, moving up to Taehyung.
“Where else would you suck the come from?” Taehyung says, laughing as he pinches Jungkook’s cheeks. “You’re such a cutie.”
“You’re even cuter,” Jungkook replies, sticking his tongue out. “Okay, I’ve always had this fantasy about eating you out at the pool.”
“Sweet Jesus, how many fantasies about me do you have anyway?” Taehyung asks out of curiosity.
“Way too many,” Jungkook replies, hopping out of the pool, and Taehyung tries not to focus on the way Jungkook’s biceps bulge as he pushes himself out of the water. “You’ve got those long legs, and you wear that tiny excuse of swimwear, and your skin is tantalisingly golden… Do you want me to keep complimenting you or can I just show you how much I want you?”
“I don’t mind either, honestly,” Taehyung admits, pecking Jungkook on the lips. Turning around to get on his elbows and knees, and slapping his ass for extra effect, Taehyung says, “But we should totally make our own gay porno version titled Pacific Rim.”
Jungkook chuckles, already littering tender kisses to Taehyung’s back, moving down torturously slow. He strips Taehyung of his swimwear, flinging it to the side, and then jumps back into the pool for the prime position to rim Taehyung.
Sliding one finger between Taehyung’s ass cheeks, Jungkook hums to himself before he digs in. Spreading Taehyung with his hands, Jungkook buries his face in Taehyung’s ass, pressing a soft kiss to Taehyung’s puckered hole and making Taehyung moan at the sensation.
“You’re so sensitive,” Jungkook mumbles, not giving Taehyung the opportunity to react before licking a thin stripe across Taehyung’s hole.
Taehyung shivers, moving his ass back against Jungkook’s face and wanting more. “S-shut up and get on with it,” Taehyung says, his voice heady and wanton.
Jungkook obeys, thrusting his tongue into Taehyung’s hole. Lapping at Taehyung’s skin, Jungkook’s actions grow more frantic, saliva dripping down his chin and smearing all across Taehyung’s ass as he eats him out.
Taehyung is no better, desperate to get off, wanting to grind down on something or even jerk off, but knows better than to come before Jungkook has had his main meal. Taehyung knows he must look like a mess, because he feels like one, hair sweaty and plastered to his skin, cheeks red and ruddy from the exertion of trying not to come. Every time Jungkook licks into him, Taehyung feels himself wanting something more, something thicker and bigger than just Jungkook’s tongue. Panting, Taehyung waits for Jungkook to slow down with his ass eating before he says, “C-can you fuck me, please?”
“I don’t have lube,” Jungkook says before he starts bruising Taehyung’s inner thigh with his mouth, no doubt to leave a hickey there.
“Well, fuck, I didn’t bring any either,” Taehyung whines, groaning into his arms. “Can’t believe we didn’t learn from last time.”
“Oh, baby, I can still get you off,” Jungkook says, slapping Taehyung’s ass cheek to hear the resounding echo.
“I wanted your big fat cock fucking me into the floor though,” Taehyung says, putting some aegyo into his voice. Still feeling the heat and sting of the spank seconds after, Taehyung says, “Kiss my butt better.”
Jungkook complies, leaving butterfly kisses across the sore skin. Then Jungkook slaps the other ass cheek, leaving Taehyung confused as to whether Jungkook is secretly a volleyball spiker or a baseball player, and also needlessly aroused, pre-come leaking from his erection.
“You have a spanking kink,” Jungkook says, and Taehyung can hear the giggle in his voice. Jungkook slaps Taehyung’s ass again, this time softer than before, before he presses his lips against Taehyung’s skin, mouthing at the hand-shaped bruises that will probably form.
“And you have a kink where you tease me until I start crying from wanting to come, right?” Taehyung says. “Or are you just teasing me to make fun of me?”
“Definitely to make fun of you,” Jungkook answers, burying his face between Taehyung’s ass cheeks again.
“You’re the worst, Jeon Jungkook,” Taehyung says, moaning when Jungkook starts licking him out again, voice hitching at the most inopportune moments. “The absolute worst.”
“Only for you, babe,” Jungkook says, wrapping a hand around Taehyung’s dick and stroking him slowly.
Taehyung quivers at the sensations, cheek pressed against the floor tiles, unable to voice anything except for how good he feels. When Taehyung comes, spilling over the edge and come splattering onto the tiles, Jungkook pulls away and says, “We still haven’t actually polluted the pool.”
“Well, that’s why I’m gonna give you a blowjob like the champion that I am,” Taehyung says, flipping his body around so he can look at Jungkook. Taehyung laughs, seeing that Jungkook’s eyes are blown wide, his cheeks red, and his erection tenting up his swimming trunks.
“What?” Jungkook asks as he gets out of the pool to switch places with Taehyung.
Taehyung grips at Jungkook’s cock through the swimwear, teasing him as he slides a finger against the fabric. “You’re so turned on. It’s cute,” Taehyung says, unable to stop smiling. “You got this turned on from just rimming me?”
Jungkook’s cheeks redden just that little more, choking on a moan as Taehyung gives him another stroke. “I can’t help it. I love eating you out, and those small noises you make—”
This time, they’re interrupted by a Namjoon who is running late. Namjoon does not even see them in their precarious position, asking them, “Hey, have you guys seen my goggles—” Then when he does see them, his eyes visibly widen and his mouth falls open in shock.
Taehyung slips into the pool at breakneck speed. Jungkook waves at Namjoon, as though he is not saying hello from beside a puddle of Taehyung’s come.
Namjoon spins around without another word, running for his life as though it will help clear the provocative image from his mind.
Taehyung looks at Jungkook and asks, “Why the hell do we keep getting caught in the act?”
“I don’t know,” Jungkook replies, looping his arms around Taehyung and pressing a kiss to his lips. “Must be because we keep doing these naughty things.”
“And we ain’t gonna stop,” Taehyung declares, as he unties the knot on Jungkook’s swimwear, pushing them out of the way. Before Taehyung envelops Jungkook’s dick with his chatty mouth, he says, “By the way, I am gonna go all Pac-Man on your dick.”
“I went all Pac-Man on your ass, so it’s only fair you do it to my dick,” Jungkook says, spluttering halfway when Taehyung engulfs him all the way to the base. “Fucking hell.”
Later on in the night, when they arrive back at Jungkook’s place, they score a home-run in the privacy of their bedroom.
(Jungkook: one. Taehyung: one.)