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They really did mean to be watching Netflix. Taehyung and Yoongi, his roommate and roommate’s boyfriend, respectively, and Jimin and Hoseok had all been together in the living room watching a movie. Something with explosives that Yoongi got to pick when he won their rock-paper-scissors match. It was interesting enough: Yoongi and Taehyung spent more time whispering to each other about how good of a movie it was and all of the cool things about it. Neither Hoseok nor Jimin were fooled. Though talking about mundane things, there was no denying or ignoring that they were as close to fucking in front of their friends as they could be.
About a third of the way through the movie Jimin heard Taehyung groan and turned to look behind him from his spot on the floor. Yoongi had one hand in Taehyung’s hair and the other rubbing his crotch while he sucked a mark into the bottom of his neck.
“Out!” Jimin had demanded, face hot pink but stern. Taehyung looked like he wanted to argue the tone in Jimin’s voice, but the look that accompanied his command was severe. “Taehyung-ah, we have one rule!” he shouted as Taehyung and Yoongi giggled and whispered their way down the hall to Taehyung’s room.
Which is how he ends up sitting on Hoseok’s lap complaining about how his terrible roommate can’t even follow the simple rule of not sexiling someone from the front room when they both have bedrooms with doors that lock. The movie is still playing in front of them: a woman screams when her lover/boyfriend/partner in crime leaps from a tall building seconds before it explodes, but they both ignore her in favor of chit-chatting back and forth.
Hoseok listens to Jimin with a very serious face that only cracks once or twice at how indignant Jimin sounds.
“Jimin-ah,” he finally says, laughing and wrapping his arms around his waist. Jimin giggles and settles down into Hoseok’s lap. “The more you talk about it, the more you sound, dare I say, jealous?” Jimin snorts, but he’s glad that Hoseok can’t see the way that his face flushes when he readjusts himself between Hoseok’s legs.
“Jealous?” he snorts. Preposterous. He’s never been jealous of Taehyung and Yoongi’s relationship. Maybe he’s the tiniest bit jealous of the fact that Taehyung has someone he can call when he needs to get laid out and fucked into next week like the pillow princess he is, but not of their relationship by any means. Not of the sex. Or the amount of it. Or how good it sounds when they’re too loud and even Jimin’s headphones don’t cut it.
And he’s certainly not jealous that Taehyung and Yoongi get to be so open and free with each other. Jimin and Hoseok have been flirting around their friendship being sort of maybe possibly something for months now. They’ve fallen asleep in each others’ beds before; they hold hands and brush against each others’ shoulders and dance pressed against each other when they go out clubbing and sit in each others’ laps and text all the time but they’re friends. Just friends.
Fine. Maybe Jimin is a little bit jealous.
“Yeah, jealous,” Hoseok repeats, tightening his grip. He spreads his legs so Jimin sinks further into him and cages his small thighs between his own. Heat prickles in the center of his stomach at how close to his ear Hoseok is. They’re both staring at the tv while they talk to each other, curled into each other impossibly close but casually disengaged from each other. “You know, of them.” Hoseok shrugs his shoulder down the hallway, but Jimin hears nothing.
“No, I promise I’m not jealous of Taehyung and Yoongi. They’re... really good for each other.” And it’s true. Jimin had been jealous at first, for a moment, concerned that he was going to lose his best friend to someone he barely even knew. But that hadn’t happened at all.
“Not of their relationship, Jiminie,” Hoseok sighs. He squeezes a little tighter and Jimin lets the tiniest breath drop from between his lips. The heat starts to bubble and Jimin gets very still. Hoseok’s lips are on his ear when he says, “I think you’re jealous of their sex life.”
They’ve talked about it; sex and love and their past hookups and relationships. But like friends confide in each other, laying with heads on each others’ stomachs like schoolgirls and sharing their deepest secrets. Not like potential lovers. Not like the way that Hoseok is talking about it now. Jimin turns his head to look over his shoulder. Hoseok is staring at him with a heavy, singularly-focused gaze.
“Yeah,” Jimin whispers. He can feel the heat of his breath as it bounces off Hoseok’s cheek. “It’s easy to be jealous of it when my sex life is nonexistent.” Hoseok twists Jimin by the hips and waits for him to understand. Jimin swivels with Hoseok’s hands until he’s facing him; until he’s straddling his lap with his knees pressed into the soft suede of his and Taehyung’s well-used couch.
“Do you want to change that?”
It’s then that Jimin becomes acutely aware of the fact that Hoseok isn’t...soft. He feels it, slowly filling, waiting to see if this is gonna happen, right up against the bud of his cock. He shifts just enough to press in a hair. Like it could be an accident.
Jimin wrapping his arms around Hoseok’s shoulders is not an accident. Neither is the soft, tiny, “Yeah, Hoseok-ah, please,” that he exhales against his mouth.
And then they’re kissing, and Jimin can finally cross learning what Hoseok’s mouth tastes like off his bucket list. Jimin shifts his hips down again, this time maintaining the little friction they have against each other. He can feel the soft wetness starting to build inside of him, driven by the heat in his stomach, sticky and slick inside, while his cock finds purchase for friction against his underwear as he and Hoseok rock together.
Hoseok kisses with his whole body, much the way he does everything else. His hands run down Jimin’s back, spread, and wrap around his waist, pulling him closer. It’s hot between the two of them, and Jimin feels the sweat build under his binder. “Ah, Hoseokie,” he whines.
“Hm?”
“I’m. It’s...hot. My-uh, my undershirt.” Jimin has always struggled to call it a binder out loud. He will sometimes when he’s frustrated about societal expectations of gender and his body, but in the rare event he actually has to talk about it, Jimin defaults to 'undershirt'. Hoseok doesn’t miss a beat.
“Do you wanna take it off?” he asks, kissing under Jimin’s chin and nipping at the side of his neck. Jimin knows Hoseok can feel the small beads of sweat on his neck and throat, can taste the salt of it on his tongue. He’s asking to be sexy, to try and get Jimin’s soft skin bare so he can drink and touch and kiss his fill, but he’s also asking because he knows that Jimin’s body can be a sensitive subject depending on his mood.
But Jimin is so far beyond sweet and tender with their hips grinding up and down on each other. “Fuck, hyung, fuck, yes. Please.” He’s wet now, and Jimin knows Hoseok feels him press his thighs together. Thankfully, though, instead of laughing or teasing, Hoseok breaks them apart to rip Jimin’s overshirt, a pale blue t-shirt, over his head. Neither of them bothers to figure out where it lands, instead focused on how to take Jimin’s binder off without him having to get off Hoseok’s lap to do it.
“Can you just— if you hold my legs I can—” Jimin cuts himself off and leans back, using Hoseok’s hands on his thighs as leverage, and tugs it over one shoulder then the other before dropping it at the foot of the couch. When he sits back up on Hoseok’s lap, he takes a deep breath and stretches, drags his fingertips up his sides where the tight fabric pressed lines into his skin and hums as he comes back down. His arms come back to rest around Hoseok’s shoulders. His movements are slow and steady but purposeful, sensual. His moan when he rocks down and meets Hoseok’s crotch again is deep and free.
“Fuck, Jimin, you’re so fucking— hot.” He sounds like he wishes there was another word for him that encompasses all of the things that Jimin is. But right now, right at this moment, that’s exactly what Jimin is: hot. Hoseok ghosts his hands around Jimin’s bare waist, not quite touching; waiting. Jimin beats him to it, to the asking and the soft, reverent touching, and crushes their mouths together.
“Fucking touch me, please. God, I’ve been— I’ve been waiting for this.” Jimin pants as Hoseok’s hands roam. He brings his hand up to cup his chest and pinch his nipple between his fore and middle fingers. It’s not gentle, and he’s rewarded with a deep, shocked grunt and Jimin’s tongue in his mouth.
You’re so sensitive, he wants to say. You’re so vocal, he wants to say, but Jimin is moaning into his mouth while Hoseok plays with his nipple and rolls Jimin’s hips quick and rough, so he can’t say much of anything at all.
Finally, though, he pulls away to take a deep breath and lick his lips. Jimin’s cheeks are a deep pink and his eyes are glassy, pupils dilated. “Oh, fuck, Jiminie, look at you.” Jimin whimpers in response. “Yeah, do you feel good?” Jimin nods and tries to kiss him again, but Hoseok pushes two fingers into his mouth before he has the chance. “You said you’ve been waiting for this. I wonder how long?” Hoseok drops both of his hands to Jimin’s crotch to unbutton his pants. He has to wipe his hand on Jimin’s thigh to get the buttons undone and the zipper down, which makes Jimin giggle. “I’ve been waiting too. Months. Two, maybe three? I didn’t want to push, you know?”
“God damn it,” Jimin groans, frustrated when Hoseok’s hand doesn’t have the right angle to touch him. He’s so wet, so ready to get Hoseok inside of him (fingers, tongue, dick— Jimin isn’t picky), but his clothes are in the way. “Yes, Jesus, I’ve been waiting, too. I just. Okay, come on. Can we— confess our undying love later? If you don’t get me off I’ll do it myself.” It’s a powerful motivator.
“Up,” Hoseok tells him, and Jimin is quick to obey. He wriggles back and stands up, and then he’s yanking off his jeans and his briefs. There’s a moment where Jimin stands still in front of Hoseok, drinking in his heavy-lidded gaze. He watches Hoseok’s eyes flicker down between his legs, where he can see Jimin’s cock, shiny and wet. Hoseok knows the rest of him is much the same: wet, soft, ready. And then Hoseok’s eyes come back to Jimin’s face. He tilts his head to the side, just a little, and raises his eyebrow. “ Fuck .” It’s becoming a common word from Hoseok’s mouth where Jimin is concerned. “Fuck, come sit on my lap now .”
Jimin launches himself at Hoseok, this time climbing onto him and locking his legs around Hoseok’s waist. When they kiss it’s heady and needy and when Jimin grinds on Hoseok’s crotch, he leaves a slowly growing wet spot. “Mm,” Jimin mumbles, hands finding Hoseok’s zipper. “God, I’m so hot for you, Hoseok-ah,” he whines, pushing his hips down as Hoseok’s hike up. He uses the opportunity to yank down Hoseok’s zipper and unhook the waistband. “Want you so bad. Want your cock in me.” Hoseok drops his head back and sighs, taking a moment to catch his breath. When he looks back up, Jimin is staring at him with shiny lips and big eyes, waiting.
Hoseok groans and tugs on his pants at the sides of his hips, trying to get them off without dislodging Jimin from his lap again. He manages to get them down to the middle of his thighs before Jimin is raising up on his knees and sinking back down, Hoseok’s cock sliding inside of him and deep. Hoseok gasps and tightens his grip on Jimin’s waist. He hadn’t expected that, hadn’t intended for him to be fucking Jimin so quickly, hadn’t anticipated that the moment his dick buried itself inside of him, Jimin would shudder and leak on him, sending trickles of wet down his cock.
The shock of it, of Jimin’s tight heat and the quick, desperate motion of the downward cant of his hips, drives Hoseok’s hips up sharp and fast, fucking into Jimin with all of the strength he has. It’s only once, just a reflex, and he starts to apologize for being so brazen and for not letting Jimin get settled. But then Jimin makes a noise, a beautiful, needy, noise (later, Hoseok will tell him how pretty it sounds) that Hoseok does it again. He’s rewarded by the same noise and then the sound of more slick working its way around Hoseok’s cock. “Fuck,” he pants, grabbing Jimin’s hips with little regard for the inevitable finger-shaped bruises he’ll have and pulling Jimin down while he fucks up. “Guess that’s how you like it, huh? Just like that? Deep and rough?” Jimin starts to shake his head no, that he’s not normally this wanton and desperate, but he can’t deny it.
Especially when it’s Hoseok.
“Holy shit, Hoseok-ah. God, you’re so big.” He doesn’t know how to find other words so he repeats it again. “So. Big.” Hoseok stills, then, his brain catching up to the motion of his hips. “No,” Jimin whines, starting to move again, but Hoseok presses his hands into Jimin’s waist and holds him steady.
“Wait, wait. Just... fuck, stop doing that !” Jimin whines again, this time a temper tantrum and not the needy sound from before, but he does unclench his muscles around Hoseok. “You just. I didn’t think you were gonna—”
“I told you I wanted you to fuck me.” Jimin lifts his hips just a little before coming back down, sighing, full and content. “Now you’re fucking me. I mean...you were .”
“Jimin-ah,” he chides, but Hoseok’s grip on his waist loosens and he lets Jimin wriggle on his lap, learning how each ridge of Hoseok’s cock presses against him, committing the stinging pleasure of Hoseok’s cock head against his g-spot to memory. “I want to. God, I want to. But you just— condoms?”
“Hyung,” Jimin says, voice low and focused. He wants Hoseok’s attention to be back on him, not on the little details. Just on him, on his pleasure, on the hot drag of their cocks together. “The last time we talked about sex, you showed off your test results. I haven’t fucked anyone in 5 years and I’m already on hormones and birth control. Now, will you shut up about the condom and fuck me? Please.” He smiles and bats his eyelashes and Hoseok swears.
“How the hell do you look so innocent and sweet with words like that coming out of your mouth?” he asks but swallows any attempt that Jimin might make to answer in a kiss. His hands palm Jimin’s ass, pushing and pulling his hips quick, giving his cock quick kisses of friction against Hoseok’s pants. The next time Jimin lifts his hips to force Hoseok to drive into his g-spot, Hoseok follows him up, grabs him between his hips and his thighs, and forces him back down. Like their first thrust, it makes Jimin tense up and cry out, but this time it’s Hoseok’s name on his tongue.
“Yeah, please,” Jimin groans, pulling his tongue away from Hoseok’s, back into his own mouth so he can beg.
“Shit, that’s right. You like it hard.” Jimin starts to explain himself, to find words to say that when someone is buried deep inside of him, his whole body burns and he can’t stop the way his thighs quake and his legs tremble and struggle to hold him up. But then Hoseok is nodding and obliging, holding Jimin down so he can find a quick staccato for his thrusts. “Me, too. Always wondered,” he grunts, “how you wanted it. If you wanted it fast like this? Or if you liked it slow and heavy.” Jimin groans into Hoseok’s ear. It’s too hard to keep his head up with a pace this quick so he lets Hoseok’s shoulder do the work. “I’ve come so many times thinking about how you’d sound, what each of your faces would look like.”
Jimin’s body clenches tight and shakes as come floods from between his legs. He digs his teeth into Hoseok’s shoulder and moans, sucking on his collar between wet and gasping breaths and marveling at how easily Hoseok’s skin takes to bruises. He wants to pull up, to take find air and get a second wind, but Hoseok doesn’t stop moving to give him a chance. It’s the opposite: when Jimin starts to come, Hoseok grits his teeth, brows furrowed as he thrusts up with purpose, fucking him through it until Jimin can hear the wet slap of his bare ass against the fabric of Hoseok’s pants.
“ Shit .” Hoseok whistles, sound breathy and uneven while he keeps his pace. “Oh, fuck, you never told me you could...do that .” Jimin scoffs but the effect is lost when Hoseok fucks into him and rolls his hips, finding his way deeper.
“Yeah,” he pants, jerking his hips as his cock throbs. “Because it’s totally normal,” Jimin continues, trying to breathe between words. Hoseok seems to be intent on trying to fuck Jimin until he can’t speak, and honestly, Jimin is just about there. The tips of his fingers are numb and his vision has gone soft. Everything has a sparkling kind of sheen to it. “It’s normal,” he huffs, “to talk to my friend about how I can come.”
He has a point. Had a point. The fact of the matter is that right now, Jimin is indeed talking to his friend about how he can come while in the process of coming on his friend’s cock. The details are hard to grasp; his head is fuzzy.
“Still, just...” Hoseok has to stop talking as he pushes down on Jimin’s shoulders and grinds, each swivel of Hoseok’s hips pushing him in deeper, his cock pushing against the rough ridges of his g-spot. He’s huffing too hard to tease Jimin any further because Jimin is coming again and again. Hoseok wonders if it really is multiple orgasms or if it’s just one long one where every push squirts more of Jimin’s come from inside of him and soaks his pants. Hoseok wonders idly as he pulls halfway out and shoves back in again, making Jimin’s body squelch with the combination of air and come, how he’s going to be able to get his pants on after this. The cotton stretch fabric is wet all the way through: Hoseok can feel Jimin’s come sliding down his legs from where the material keeps absorbing it, feels it soaking and spreading down, almost to his knees. They’d be cold if not for the consistent stream of hot, slick come to add to it.
The sounds of it all, the wet, the sliding, the slapping, and the force of Jimin’s come raining down on his pants are intoxicating in and of themselves. But Jimin gives Hoseok so much more than that with the pretty, filthy noises that fall from his lips. He’s whining in Hoseok’s ear while he sucks on his earlobe, gasping that he feels so good, that he can’t stand how fucking hard Hoseok is and how hard he’s fucking him because he’s so good and so full and ah, ah, ah, a-ah.
It’s too good. Jimin drops his head onto Hoseok’s shoulder, his sweat adding more wet to his person. It drips down his temples the hardest but the roots of his hair are wet, too. He can’t keep his head up anymore. His body can’t focus on anything other than making his hips work to meet Hoseok’s.
Eventually, Jimin can’t do that anymore either, and he throws his head back to suck in any air that he can while Hoseok wraps his arms around Jimin’s delicate waist and fucks him. Fucks him so dumb that he can’t even get out anything resembling words. With every stroke, Jimin clenches around Hoseok, mouth open and throat working for breath he can’t hang onto. It’s overwhelming, all-consuming, desperate, just like they’ve grown for each other over the last several weeks. There’s no more will-he-won’t-he because he is and they are and Hoseok is fucking Jimin like he means it and Jimin hangs on and tries to remember a time that having sex with someone was so freeing.
It’s forever later and also too soon that Hoseok starts to slow down. His hips still work deep inside of Jimin, working on rocking against his spot again, forcing Jimin’s come to trickle around him while he gets louder. Hoseok isn’t quiet, either, not with the way that his voice gets low when he grunts and then high and airy when Jimin clenches, holding him tight and forcing Hoseok to work for each thrust.
“What?” Jimin pants, taking Hoseok’s hands from his waist and holding them, wriggles his smaller fingers between Hoseok’s long ones. Piano fingers, his mother would say, thin and delicate and big enough to play across soft, ivory keys. He’s playing Jimin in much the same way he would any other instrument. “What? Why did you— don’t stop.” Jimin sounds like the same, desperate man from when this all started, agreeing that yes he did like being fucked rough and begging to be.
But maybe Hoseok feels a little bit like he’s drowning, too. Jimin puts his palm on Hoseok’s chest and feels the rapid pump of his heart, rushing hot blood through his body.
“God, Jimin-ah, fuck.” There are several breaths between each word and Hoseok says Jimin’s name like it’s a precious object. And he is; right now Jimin is Hoseok’s holy grail. “I just—”
“Oh.” Jimin gets it, then, that while he’s been lost inside of himself, Hoseok has been giving him everything. He smiles, wide and dangerous, and leans down to kiss him. Mostly they’re just rubbing their lips over each other, open mouths catching between teeth and tongues. Hoseok’s breath is as hot in his mouth as the pulse of his dick inside him. “God, I’m— so selfish.” To be fair, he’s been a little preoccupied.
“To be fair,” Hoseok grunts; Jimin starts rocking on him while he speaks, “you’ve been... ah a little pre-preoccup— oh fuck, Jimin-ah.” Jimin is tight around him, lifting his hips until only the very head of his cock is still inside, and then pushing back down, never once releasing the tension of the muscles inside him. The wetness of his come makes the slide easier, and it’s slow, so slow.
“Yeah, I was. How could I not be?” Jimin’s smile is back when his voice drops from silk-smooth to soft, thick velvet and repositions himself, tightening his legs behind Hoseok’s back again, and says, “I had your big, hard cock inside me, stuffing me full.” He balances himself with his hands on Hoseok’s shoulders, squeezes his thighs to lift his hips and drop back down. Hard. Hoseok groans and Jimin sighs, grateful to have motion again. He shifts up and repeats himself once, then twice more, and then his moans mimic Hoseok’s in pitch and length. “You felt so good inside me. Feel so good inside me, filling me up. I’ve only ever come like this once before.” He’s fucking Hoseok in earnest now, thighs on fire with how hard he’s squeezing to make sure he can keep the pace up, keep feeling the wet, stinging slap of Hoseok’s balls right under his ass as he comes down again and again.
“It was by myself. I was still learning, fuck, my body. I found a toy. Big toy. But...” He pauses, gasps and grunts. “It’s so much better with you. I knew it would be good with you. Can’t believe your fucking stamina .” Hoseok helps steady Jimin with his hands under his thighs, and then they’re damp, too, along with his forearms. Jimin comes down at the right angle and squeals, high and needy, and holds himself completely still, trembling.
“You fuck me so perfect, Hoseokie-hyung. Just like that. I’m so close already. Again.” It’s only fair, Jimin thinks. He’s already come once, is still leaking and oversensitive and tight. Jimin starts moving again, picking up his speed, grunts and groans punched out of him. “Yeah, just like that. I’ll take care of you, too.” On the next bounce, Hoseok thrusts up underneath Jimin and he squirts, just a little, and it sprays out of him over the next few thrusts, escaping little by little and being quickly replaced with more. “I’m gonna fuck you just like this. Fuck, yeah. You feel so good, Hoseokie, letting me fuck you, take you so fucking deep.” Jimin pushes his chest forward, arching his back to take Hoseok deeper, always searching for just a little deeper. Each millimeter makes him louder, especially when the pulsing vein running down Hoseok’s cock thumps against his g-spot. He feels everything and nothing at once: each sensation individually is overwhelming and so it all just feels like too much and Jimin can’t stop, he won’t stop. Not until—
Hoseok’s tongue running across the center of his chest with wet lips sucking around it while he licks the sweat off of Jimin’s chest is the last thing he expects. Jimin stops mid-lift, holds for a second, and then pulls up. Hoseok’s cock slips out of him, followed a breath later by the loud, insistent rush of Jimin’s come, soaking Hoseok from his navel down to the middle of his thighs. There’s so much that it forms a tiny puddle between their laps.
And then Jimin screams, the sound ripped from his throat with the same force of his orgasm, and Hoseok can’t take it anymore. He pulls Jimin’s hips down, grabs his cock and shoves it back inside him, pumps once feels Jimin’s come still spilling out of him, pushes himself in further, and comes. He’s never heard Jimin like this before, never even dreamed that this was something that Jimin could sound like. He thinks they sound beautiful, wet, sloppy messes coming together, coming together, one writhing mass, a sexual ouroboros that feeds itself on lust and come and need.
Hoseok comes hot and deep inside Jimin, and Jimin feels it, feels the pulsing and the endless filling. He’s come so much, given so much already that it’s a relief to be filled again. To be filled by Hoseok. Hoseok kisses Jimin then, filling his mouth with breath, constantly filling until the empty aching inside of him is nonexistent.
And then Hoseok is done coming, but Jimin is still full, Hoseok’s cock still thick and hard inside of him, but Jimin is so sensitive, so sensitive, and he pulls off of Hoseok with a long whine punctuated by a wet pop. He leans back, supported by Hoseok’s arms, unlocks his legs and breathes.
“God, you don’t stop do you?” Jimin asks, dragging his fingertips over his chest. He flicks a nipple but doesn’t stay there, just touches and jerks at the overstimulation and continues downward. “Look at you.” His fingers graze over his cock and Jimin clenches and pulls his thighs together. “Still hard while I’m— fuck!” Jimin feels Hoseok’s come starting to run down inside of him and he raises himself up one more time and lets it drool out of him. Some of it starts to roll down his thigh, some stays right outside his hole and Jimin rushes to slide his fingers through it and push it back up. Some spills over his fingers, too small to contain it, and it drips over the back of his hand. Still, though, he keeps pushing up, until he can feel his fingers right outside of himself, Hoseok’s hot come still sliding thick out of him. His body is so sensitive, wrung out and wired and he whimpers as he pushes it back inside him, painting himself and his cock with Hoseok’s come, filling himself just a little more.
“God, Jimin, I can’t, ” Hoseok hisses, and then something inside him snaps. Jimin’s squeak as Hoseok tackles him around the middle holds him tight and stands them up is surprised and pleased.
Shit, you’re strong is what Jimin means to say. Instead what comes out is a loud whine when Hoseok flips him over the coffee table. It’s only a coffee table in the sense that they use it to put coffee on. The table itself is only a little shorter than their dining room table: it was missing a chunk of leg and was sitting outside someone’s lawn with a piece of paper that said “free” taped to it. So they took it home and with Taehyung’s quick handiwork, they sawed off the rest of the legs to match. And voila, a coffee—
Hoseok pushes into Jimin without him, sending a dirty, wet squelch into the air to mingle with both of their constant pantings, and Jimin can’t think of another word than “Fuck!” shouted at near the top of his lungs. Hoseok hisses the sentiment back to him and grips Jimin’s ass as leverage to pull him back to meet his hips.
And that’s when they hear it: a sound that isn’t coming from Hoseok or Jimin. Oh, shit.
“ HYPOCRITE!! ” Taehyung’s deep voice travels loudly down the hall, forcing them to still. And then Taehyung groans, just as loud as either of them and then Yoongi laughs. There’s a loud slap and another strangled groan, and then Taehyung doesn’t speak again.
Yoongi clears his throat. “Sorry! Um...carry on.” He can practically feel the embarrassment coming from the hallway, and Jimin knows exactly how Yoongi must feel. Their music turns up louder and Jimin turns to face Hoseok with pink cheeks.
“I— ” he starts, ready to apologize, but then Hoseok lifts a finger to his lips and Jimin quiets, kisses the fingertip in front of him.
“He said to carry on, didn’t he?” It takes a second, but then Jimin nods, the devious smile from earlier making a slow return to his face. He holds the far edge of the table and pushes his ass back. Hoseok is quick to pick back up, big palms flat on Jimin’s back and crossed at the wrists. Jimin is right back to his light, needy sounds, almost as if they never stopped. He pushes back as best he can but there isn’t much purchase for his feet on the floor. Hoseok’s the only one with shoes still on and Jimin is glad they have traction because he’s fucking into Jimin quick and hard again, leaving him breathless.
“Fuck, Jimin,” Hoseok growls. He moves his hands across Jimin’s back, trying to reach over to grab his shoulder, but Hoseok’s palm almost doesn’t stay still enough on Jimin’s back with how slick with sweat the both of them are. But the ends of his fingernails and the dip between Jimin’s hips and waist help keep his hands steady while he continues to drive himself into Jimin, who leaks onto the floor every time Hoseok’s dick comes out of him, leaving him empty, before he’s right back inside, hitting his g-spot and making Jimin cry out his name. “Fuck, you take my cock so well. So good. Love how wet you are, how much you love it when I fuck you like this. God, it’s so hot .” Hoseok takes a deep breath to push his hair out of his face.
Hoseok grabs Jimin’s ass, then, from the side, and slows his stroke to watch his cock slide in and out of Jimin, to see the drip of his come down his legs. “God, yeah. Look at you .” The squelch as he jerks his hips forward hard is almost as rewarding as Jimin’s high-pitched shout. “So good, Jimin-ah, you take it so good.”
The glide as Hoseok fucks Jimin is like nothing he’s experienced before. Wet is an understatement, but Hoseok can’t get enough: enough of the beautiful noises, the smell of sweat and come, the taste of Jimin on his tongue. Jimin. Hoseok reaches his hand around Jimin’s waist and curves his wrist to drag his palm and long fingers over his dick. He takes it between his middle and ring fingers, stroking it up and down, rubbing his thumb over the top while he fucks into him. Jimin grows louder underneath him, each thrust punctuated by Hoseok’s hand rubbing over his cock in some way. Pulling it, rubbing it, rolling his knuckles over it until Jimin is clinging to the table, afraid that his legs might actually give out if not for Hoseok’s insistent thrusts keeping him on his feet.
“Ho— Hoseok-ah,” Jimin cries, thumping his head down onto the table. It’s loud but the moan that escapes Jimin when Hoseok slams into him and thrusts over his g-spot, again and again, is louder. It’s just his name, but the way that it comes out of Jimin’s mouth, needy and fervent like a prayer, is too much.
“Shit, Jimin-ah. You sound...” Hoseok huffs around his words and speeds up the movement of his fingers over Jimin’s cock. “You always sound good. Like this?” He leans down to kiss Jimin’s back and then wipe excess sweat on his t-shirt. “Fuck, like this you’re perfect. So fucking... god .”
“I’m good?” Jimin asks from underneath him? The praise lights him up and he finds enough energy to push himself onto his toes and shove himself back, cries once again growing louder and then softer as Hoseok fucks him, forcing his mouth down onto the table or up into the air. The tension in his body starts to build again. He’s leaking again, small rivulets of come that Hoseok forces out of him, but Jimin feels it deeper than that. He feels like he could explode like this: Hoseok is too hot over him, he’s too deep, the table is starting to cut into his hips, and Jimin doesn’t really know how much more he can stay standing.
Hoseok has him covered.
“Oh, my god, Jimin.” He’s grunting like he did before he came the first time, with that same purpose and focus. But then it’s different because then Hoseok starts to beg. “Come on, Jimin, give it to me. Fuck, yeah. Your dick is so hard...” Hoseok huffs, can’t catch his breath but carries on. “Yeah, just like that, fuck, I love it. Come on, come on, give it to me, please. Give me your come, Jimin-ah, come on my cock. Make me wetter, please Jimin-ah, show me.” There’s no reason for it, other than that Hoseok’s finally reached his limit, that this is really it, that he really can’t contain himself anymore.
And all Jimin wants is to give him exactly what he’s begging for.
The entire thing has been so intense, but this is intense in a new way, both of them boiled down to their base instincts, unable to control the noises they make that mix with the noises of their bodies together. Jimin lifts his hips up pulls himself forward on the table just a little more so that he can hit the right angle, so he can clench down and give Hoseok what he’s begging for. He’s trying so hard to give him what he wants, chasing it for himself, too. They’re barreling down the road together, Jimin panting yeah, yeah, yeah to the rhythm of Hoseok’s hips snapping and slapping against his ass.
When Jimin comes, it’s with damp, closed eyes and a long, loud shout of Hoseok’s name. He traps Hoseok’s hand between his thighs to stop him from stroking his dick. He can feel the evidence of his orgasm when Hoseok pulls out of him, cursing all the while, and jerks himself off until he’s coming on Jimin’s ass. Hoseok’s come skitters up his back and down over the crack of his ass and down, down like the rest of his own come drenching his thighs.
All that Jimin is aware of for the next couple minutes is how rapidly his chest heaves and his breath comes. And then other things: Hoseok rubbing his outer thigh, more of Hoseok’s come on him. Tentatively, Jimin reaches behind himself, through his legs, and drags more come down his ass, further, pushing it inside of him, stuffing himself full of Hoseok, even now.
“Fuck,” is all that Hoseok manages to whisper, watching the wanton display.
Jimin can barely breathe. One arm struggles to hold onto the table, trembling fingers with a tentative grip, and the other is still inside him, enjoying the fact that he can’t tell his come from Hoseok’s. When he pulls his finger out of his hole, he brings it up his body and sucks it into his mouth. His come is a little sweeter than Hoseok’s, but they’re both so intermingled that all he tastes is the semi-sticky wetness that is their come. Hoseok is staring at him with hungry eyes when he looks back. He straightens his knees and tries to pull his legs together to stand, but then Hoseok is leaning over him, kissing the top of his ear.
“Jiminie, can I lick you clean?”
Jimin spreads his legs and whines. His body tingles as his extremities come back to Jimin’s realm of consciousness. His eyes are damp and his lips, always full, are bigger, pinker, tender from biting and sucking on them. “Yeah, yeah Hobari. Just. Be gentle. Please. You fuck me so good I can’t stand it, I’m so sensitive. You make me so sensitive.”
“Always, Jimin-ah,” he whispers before dropping to his knees sinking his tongue inside of Jimin, letting the salty-sweet taste of his come and Jimin’s drip down his chin while he sucks slowly, so slowly and so, so carefully.
Jimin is full of high-pitched whimpers and trembling breaths, twitching all over his body without his control. His skin jumps with every cool breath on his cock and when Hoseok flicks his tongue forward to get under the head of it. Jimin comes just a little bit more periodically while Hoseok licks and sucks on Jimin until he gets his fill, come dribbling out of him while his body clenches and broken whimpers fall from his lips. Hoseok doesn’t stop; no, the come just carries on from inside of Jimin down Hoseok’s chin and onto the floor. After a few more minutes, Hoseok has to hold Jimin’s thighs apart when the twitching gets too bad.
“Don’t run from me, Jiminie,” he says, using his hands to spread Jimin wide and put his tongue inside him again. “You sound so good. I love the way you taste.” His hands move down to push his thighs further apart, bracing himself between Jimin’s legs. “How can I taste you if you move?” So Jimin tries his best to stop moving so that Hoseok doesn’t have to pull his mouth away from where Jimin’s cock is still pulsing against his tongue anymore.
“You’re...supposed to...be, ah, clean— ”
It’s good. It’s too good. Jimin’s words fail him while Hoseok’s lips smack against him, mumbling grunts and groans of praise, telling Jimin how good he tastes, how much he loves that he can make Jimin do this.
“I love this,” he says, moaning into Jimin. He takes a moment to suckle Jimin’s cock, waiting until he’s rewarded with small trickles of come in his mouth. “Love how wet this is. Can’t believe you can come this much— shit, just for me. I wish you could see it, Jiminie. Love how your hole clenches on my tongue, want you to see how fucking hot it is when I can see you start coming. I can feel it, too. Fuck.” He doesn’t know the right words to describe how much watching Jimin’s come bubble over and spill into his mouth turns him on, but what he lacks in vocabulary, he makes up for in action. Jimin just whines and nods, knowing that Hoseok can’t see it. He hears the long sob, though, just one deep, gasping breath, and Hoseok shudders. He wishes with his whole heart that he could get hard again, wishes they could peak together one more time so Hoseok could pump him full of come again.
But he can’t. As much as he wants it, there’s no way. But that doesn’t mean the wriggling, squirming Jimin above him can’t. “Jimin-ah,” he says. He pulls back and licks his lips but doesn’t get off his knees. Jimin whimpers something that sounds enough like ‘huh’ that Hoseok continues. “Jimin-ah, I could make you come again if you wanted. I can see it. See you twitching. Do you want it? Want me to take care of you?”
Jimin is so overstimulated, tears in his eyes and wet gasps in his throat. Every touch feels like fire, but even so, he begs Hoseok for one last one, wants to come on his mouth because it’s hot and comforting even though Jimin can’t take a proper breath. He wants it, wants to please Hoseok like this because he sounds so pretty when he asks with his filthy mouth if Jimin will come on his tongue.
He gets up, then, and takes Jimin by the waist. “Come on, lay on the table, okay? Give your legs a break.” This is the first time it’s been this slow. Even when Hobi was down on his knees cleaning Jimin out, there was something urgent about it, like if Hoseok didn’t do it, he’d drop dead on the spot. This, though? Even as he’s eased onto the table on his back, Jimin knows this will be different. The table isn’t quite long enough for both of them to lay on, but at this angle, Hoseok can’t get to Jimin on his knees. So he slides Jimin as far up the table as he dares, making sure that he’s got a firm hold on his thighs, and bends his head down to suck Jimin’s dick into his mouth.
Hoseok decides from the moment that his tongue meets Jimin’s cock that he’s going to take him apart one layer of softness at a time. He’s moving too slowly for Jimin, who squirms. Part of him wants this to be over already so that the sensation and overstimulation come to an end and he can breathe. The other part prays that Hoseok continues to move his mouth just as slowly as he is so that he can draw out every moan, every sound, every drop that he has to offer.
There’s decidedly purpose in Hoseok’s actions. Jimin had told him once that before he was out, one of the guys he was dating made him scream in bed. He hadn’t gone into great detail; the conversation veered into why their relationship ended (Jimin was “too much effort” for Byung-ho once he decided to come out), but it was material that was impossible not to tuck away for later.
Finally, finally, there’s a reason to use the knowledge. He runs his tongue, flat and wide, from the bottom of Jimin’s hole and then up, captures his dick and sucks just long enough for Jimin to wiggle, trying to get further away and also closer. The rocking motion of his hips only lets Jimin do Hoseok’s work for him. All he does for a moment is lay his tongue as flat against his chin as he can and push Jimin’s thighs further apart so that he starts to jerk himself off on Hoseok’s tongue. The noises that Jimin makes—the crying, the grunting, the cut off whimpers and trembling gasps of Hoseok’s name—are magic. If he could come again, and he wishes he could with the chorus of yeses and pleases, Hoseok would be hard against his stomach and seconds away from rubbing off between Jimin’s thighs.
This is just as good, maybe better. Because all of his focus is on Jimin and he can catalog all of the noises and think only of Jimin’s pleasure. He’s huffing now, trying hard to breathe in any way that he can. Jimin’s arms fling to the side, looking for something to cling to while he lets Hoseok have his way with him. They settle in his hair but don’t stay still for long. His fingers seize and tug, trying to use the pain to keep him present instead of his hazy bubble of pleasure and Hoseok.
“ Fuck,” Jimin drawls, and then he whines. Loud. Hoseok seizes his opportunity and closes his teeth around Jimin’s dick. He holds then bites down just enough for Jimin to feel the pressure on him. “Oh fuck, Hoseok-ah. Fuck, fuck. FUCK !” Hoseok keeps his grip tight on the tops of Jimin’s thighs, pulls him closer so that he can lay the flat of his tongue again over Jimin, lapping and sucking. When Jimin’s hands slam against the table, looking again for something to brace himself with, Hoseok reaches up for his hands and drops them into his hair. Jimin latches on immediately, sighing and learning to control Hoseok’s head with his fingers laced tightly in his hair.
Hoseok feels like he’s suffocating and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He loves the sensation of the pushing and pulling, the hot sting of his scalp as Jimin yanks on his hair. He’s louder now, moaning with his mouth around and inside Jimin, telling him how good he feels and tastes, how good he smells and how much he loves that his face can’t stay dry with how wet Jimin is for him. “So beautiful,” he growls, burrowing himself deeper. His tongue is soft and flat, laps once or twice at Jimin’s cock and his opening before going rigid and pushing his tongue inside.
Immediately, Jimin’s thighs clench so hard that it’s a feat of strength for Hoseok to push and keep his legs apart. “Never been with someone so sensitive as you are,” he says, pulling his tongue out and using more of Jimin’s come to slick his cock. Jimin huffs, trying for indignant because he doesn’t have voice enough to tell Hoseok that he has come more times than most and that there’s no way he can’t be as sensitive as he is. Hoseok rubs Jimin’s thighs to soothe him, waiting for his breath to come to him in pants a little less harsh. “That’s it, baby,” he coos with his lips against Jimin’s dick. His mouth just rests there, not moving, not doing anything other than waiting. The pet name would make Jimin flush if he could do anything more than whine and nod.
“Jimin-ah, hold your thighs open for me, okay? That way all you have to do is focus on me.” Jimin nods but doesn’t move his hands from Hoseok’s hair, which makes Hoseok giggle, body surging forward with the force of his bright laughter. He detangles Jimin’s fingers from his hair and puts his palms face up against the bottom of his thighs. “Now hold,” he instructs. Jimin holds. He feels so much more exposed like this, holding himself open for Hoseok instead of the other way around. When Hoseok’s mouth comes back, Jimin squeezes into the meat of his thighs as hard as he can, leaving immediate nail marks and what will probably be bruises just from holding his thighs back.
It takes too much energy to keep his neck up, so Jimin drops his head against the table and moans, turning his head to the side. Sweat, spit, tears, and come soak Jimin’s cheek. His body slides as Hoseok goes down on him, the table too slick to keep Jimin still. Jimin starts rocking again, adding fresh tears to his face and the table. Hoseok straightens his tongue again and pushes it inside of Jimin so he has something to fill him up to the very end. Hoseok keeps working him, lets Jimin fuck himself on his tongue until Jimin says with the only breath he has left:
“Hoseok—Hos-ah, hyung , please. Please, I can’t. I can’t take anymore.” So Hoseok, unannounced, drives three long fingers inside of Jimin while he presses his lips against Jimin’s cock and sucks him in, tongue relentless right against the head while his fingers rock, slick and noisy, in and out of him. Jimin’s voice runs the scale from a whine into a scream when he comes, unable to even form Hoseok’s name with his mouth. Hoseok feels the tight clench, the pull and suck from inside Jimin, waits for one more moment, and then pulls his fingers out and his mouth away. The long fountains of hot come that Hoseok dives in to drink and play in are the best reward.
Sticky. Sticky is the word to best describe the pair of them when Hoseok has to help Jimin off the table. His legs are sore and tired and trembling, so Hoseok is careful pulling Jimin into his arms. He stands and surveys the room, looking for a surface for them to sit on.
“Oh, just sit on the other side of the couch,” Jimin mumbles. He very much does not want to continue to lean on legs that don’t want to do much of anything. “I’m gonna have to pay to get the couch cleaned, anyway— I might as well make the most of it.” Hoseok nods and settles Jimin onto the far side of the couch, the only of the three cushions to have avoided their mess. When Hoseok sits down next to him, he laughs and slaps the wet cushion, laughing harder when it makes a dense sound like a sponge full of water.
“Yeah,” he says. His voice is just as tired, but happy, positive. Jimin just sounds well-fucked. Which he is, indeed. “We probably should invest in a few good towels if we’re gonna do that again. And maybe a leather couch.” There’s laughter in Hoseok’s voice, but Jimin tenses, watching Hoseok finally pull off his shoes, socks, and pants. They slap against the floor.
“Are we?” Jimin asks. “Doing this again?”
The conversation is interrupted by a chime and an insistent buzz notifying him of a text message. Jimin finds his phone tucked under one of the couch cushions, blessedly only damp on the case. Oh. There’s far more than one text message, but they’re all from Taehyung and they all have the same basic messages:
I thought we had ONE rule and At least put on some music next time.
There it is again: next time, doing it again. The future. It sounds at least a little bit permanent. Or at the very least a regular thing. “Well?” he asks. Hoseok scoots over so that his palm rests on top of Jimin’s rapidly goosebump-ing flesh. He’s cold: they’ll get up and move to Jimin’s room in a minute.
“Do you want to do it again?” The silence goes on a beat too long and Hoseok starts to suck in through his teeth and make a sound. Jimin realizes, then, that the internal conversation he’s having in his head doesn’t do any good if it stays up there. He moves, pulling himself on tired arms back into Hoseok’s lap, clammy skin and wet couch cushions and shirt be damned.
“Yeah,” Jimin says, sighing when Hoseok’s arm drops onto his shoulder. “Yeah, I think I really would.” Unspoken are the words that pass between the two of them, that they both know but aren’t quite ready to say: and not just for the sex.