Work Text:
if jimin really wracks his memory, properly rattles the stacks and rifles through the archives, he probably remembers some mention of this ‘kim namjoon’ person having been made in his presence before.
the name definitely rings some kind of bell, but it’s an aural recollection only, no image of this person materializing alongside it and jimin is a very visual learner, which is what makes him pretty sure taehyung and jungkook are full of shit.
“honestly, jimin-ah,” taehyung says, making his characteristic ‘studious art lover’ expression - more like ‘victim of prolonged constipation’ if you ask jimin - as he sips from his solo cup. “i almost burst into tears when i saw him in the showers. and i’m not one to cry for sexual reasons, you know this.”
he shoots a significant look at jungkook, who is mixing drinks for himself and jimin and also prone, historically, to crying for sexual reasons.
jungkook scowls at him and tops his concoctions off with a lime garnish, hands one over to jimin, who takes it and sends jungkook a fond and nostalgic smile, because jungkook is fucking gorgeous when he’s sobbing and snotty from overstimulation and jimin knows this. first hand.
“it’s true, hyung,” jungkook shrugs, taking a long swallow of his drink and grimacing at the sting of cheap vodka, “everybody thinks it’s just talk until they meet him. but then they see. they all see.”
sounds ominous, if you ask jimin.
sounds like this person they’re describing might actually be some kind of secret serial killer, rather than - to quote his friends - “a walking wet dream waiting to happen.”
truth be told, though, jimin really doesn’t give a fuck either way. he doesn’t have time to listen to idle gossip and that’s for a very good reason; he spends all his time in class, in the library, or out actually doing the kinds of things these silly kids can only speculate wildly about. they're not exactly a small community - the koreans, and the wider asian circle around that; not to be confused with the korean-americans, who choose to exist mostly on the fringes of the larger group but find ease and familiarity there, if that's what they're looking for - but they are insular. jimin might not listen out for gossip, but that doesn't mean it doesn't find a way to find him, anyway.
so jimin knows for a fact that if this kim namjoon was really the most attractive person on campus, as has been repeatedly alleged tonight, then he’d have fucked him already.
plus, who would actually buy the bullshit these two idiots are spinning? a guy so hot that everyone who sees him wants to get on their knees for him, but no one on campus knows whether he’s into boys, girls, both or neither because no one has ever managed to score so much as a date with him? is anyone that attractive?
granted, it could happen.
but it already has; jimin is living proof of that.
and the possibility that there could be two such individuals? on this one campus?
not fucking likely, children.
some days, jimin really regrets his decision to keep jungkook and taehyung. he really should have just fucked and strutted off into the sunset like he usually does. even being friends with them is too much of a drain on his resources. not to mention a grave for his patience. but they'd both been fairly difficult to shake off, for entirely different reasons, and then they'd met and after some initial very open and combative hostility become best friends, and now they're basically jimin's weird little version of family. and jimin's actual family is on the other side of the world, so for the few years he's here, he'll take what he can get. plus, it's not like they're difficult to look at.
“oh shit,” taehyung breathes, digging his elbow into jimin’s ribs and gasping theatrically, “he’s here.”
jungkook spills half his drink on himself, whipping around so fast to follow taehyung’s gaze to the front hallway, but jimin just rolls his eyes.
at least now he can put a probably mediocre-at-best face to these ludicrous claims and then put himself out of the misery that is putting even a little bit of stock into anything his idiot friends say. finally.
“where?” he asks, going on his toes slightly to see over jungkook’s head, “that little guy in the leather jacket? he looks familiar, i’m pretty sure i could draw a composite sketch of his dick from memory. muscle memory.” why hadn’t jimin considered the possibility that he’d already fucked this kim namjoon, of legend and lore? even if he was only a little hot, jimin might have taken pity on him. desperate times dictate desperate measures, even for park jimin. not often, granted, but even jimin commits acts of charity every now and then.
“no, no, next to him,” taehyung hisses and jimin frowns.
“that’s kim seokjin. i’ve definitely already fucked him, i snapchatted you, remember?”
“no not jin-hyung,” jungkook says, “behind him. in the thrasher hoodie.”
and at that, jimin is about to start audibly scoffing, but then the crowd gathered around the front door of whoever’s apartment this is parts different, ripples like a wave around the person who has just arrived with seokjin and his small, angry, hot friend - yoombi, jimin thinks his name might have been - and, oh.
oh.
“hold my beer,” jimin says.
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
jimin’s first impression of kim namjoon is formed like this:
skin. golden brown, honey tanned skin. a neck tendon that makes jimin’s teeth hum in his gums. he’s wearing a choker; it’s not that thick but it looks sturdy. looks like it could survive a hard yank. a hand reaching up to tug off a beanie and oh, fingers. knuckles. ruffled ice blue hair smoothed lazily place into place, messy bangs against a tight undercut. jeans that are worn and stretched, tight at the ankle and hugging his calves, straining around his thighs but a little baggy at the ass, falling low on his hips. the hoodie doesn’t actually say ‘thrasher’ when you see it up close. it’s the same stylized lettering, but it reads ‘theophrastus’ instead, which tells jimin that kim namjoon likes subverting capitalist merchandising methods and probably studies philosophy. that would explain why jimin hasn’t seen him around before; the literary arts building and the music and performance block pretty much bookend the campus.
“hello,” jimin says, because ‘hi’ is too small a word to accurately express just how serious he is about his greeting, which he delivers in korean without so much as a passing thought to english, because who even is she? jimin doesn't know or care, right now.
kim seokjin snorts and his pretty little prickly friend narrows his eyes, but kim namjoon lifts his eyes to meet jimin’s and it’s game over.
up close, his face is somehow even better. from across the room he’d looked good, but from up close he’s breathtaking.
his eyes look so dark against the bright blue of his hair but his expression is soft, open. almost lost. his nose is fucking adorable, a little shiny with sweat. his jawline is big and sharp and jimin’s belly knots up hotly just looking at it, thinking about seeing it clench, feeling the muscle there jump under his tongue. his mouth makes jimin see stars. he thinks ‘full. pink. want,’ and then kim namjoon’s lips part, his bottom lip sucked into his mouth for a second and then reappearing wetter, shining.
“um. me? are you … talking to me?” kim namjoon asks, looking at jimin and then looking away, like he’s not sure he’s supposed to make eye contact.
the rest of the room, the whole world maybe, melts away.
kim namjoon’s friends physically walk away.
seems rude of them to just abandon kim namjoon like that, but if no one else is going to take care of him, jimin can. jimin will.
“yes,” jimin says, “i am. i haven’t seen you at these parties before. can i ask your name?”
kim namjoon is still clutching his beanie in one hand but the other hand goes up onto the back of his neck, rubs a little self-consciously. why, jimin has no idea, because jesus christ look at those biceps. look at this man’s everything.
“oh, uh. i’m kim namjoon. '94. i don’t really do the party thing much. or, at all. before tonight,” he smiles a little, something self deprecating and oh god, oh fuck, dimples.
“so what changed your mind? why tonight? and can i call you hyung?” jimin doesn’t know why, but he’s curious. he also doesn't know why he asks if he can call namjoon 'hyung', when usually he either just does it, or doesn't bother to use honorifics at all, enjoying the relative anonymity of formal speech maintained throughout the interaction and no names or references added beyond that.
“my friends asked me to come,” namjoon says immediately, simply, like no further explanation is required. "and yes. please. i mean - sure."
more people arrive, crowding the front door they’re still standing in front of and namjoon has to take a step forward. jimin doesn’t move at all, just lets namjoon come into his space. he seems to hover, unsure of himself, but he’s looking at jimin and not looking away again. without glancing down between them jimin reaches out a hand and curls his fingers loosely around the wrist that’s still gripping the beanie.
“do you always do as people ask, hyung?” jimin is going hard, fast, but he doesn’t find in himself the will to do this any other way.
from the moment he’d laid eyes on kim namjoon he’s known how this is going to go. all that remains to be seen is how long it’s going to take him to get namjoon on the same page.
“um,” namjoon seems to genuinely contemplate the question, tilting his head slightly, “i guess if they ask nicely?” jimin doesn’t know why that’s a question, but he’ll answer it anyway.
“well then, aren’t you a good boy?” he asks in return, though this is not a question at all. namjoon’s eyes widen for a second and he looks hard at jimin, like he’s trying to check something, like there’s something important to be found on jimin’s face. he must find whatever he’s searching for, because he nods then. this clumsy, too fast and too enthusiastic bobble of his head on his neck.
“yes.” namjoon says, for the first time sounding certain. even his name sounded like a guess when he’d given it, like he wasn’t sure it was the right answer. he might not be certain that he’s kim namjoon, but he knows without a shadow of a doubt that he’s a good boy. “can i - you’re jimin, right? park jimin?”
jimin lets his fingers grip a momentarily harder at namjoon’s wrist. not tight, but a reminder.
“i am. how did you know that?” it’s kind of a cruel question, but jimin wants to know how much namjoon is prepared to give him.
namjoon’s eyebrows furrow together and his mouth purses up into an indignant almost-pout.
“everyone knows who you are,” he says, like it’s silly for jimin to even ask.
and that’s true, everyone on this campus does know who jimin is, but depending on who you ask and where and when you ask it, they’ll all answer how they know who jimin is for different reasons. some of those reasons are true, some aren’t. some are kind and some aren’t.
“do they?” jimin asks, shrugging his shoulders, one side of his jacket falling off and slipping down his arm. namjoon tracks its progress. “and why is that?”
namjoon is looking at his chest now. jimin can almost feel the path of his gaze sweep across his body like a physical touch. he looks at where jimin’s cut away tank top shows the skin at his ribs. his eyes trace the line of jimin’s clavicle, slowly climb his throat and then settle back on his face, expression so nakedly wanting that jimin might actually pity him, if he hadn’t already decided to fuck the awe out of him instead.
“you’re the most beautiful person i’ve ever seen,” namjoon confesses and it’s not even the first time jimin’s heard that today, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him like this; like possession of this knowledge is namjoon’s alone. not like it’s something jimin has to prove or uphold. not like it’s something to be held against jimin, or something he has done, but something that namjoon offers up like part of himself, instead. solemn. so serious. honest but tentative in some way, like namjoon is almost sorry, like maybe he thinks he’s about to be rejected but couldn’t bring himself to lie even to avoid that.
“can i get you a drink, hyung?” jimin asks, needing a second, needing a distraction.
“yes?” namjoon asks in return and it’s still a question that doesn’t need to be one, but he switches his beanie over into his other hand, uses that to tuck it into the back pocket of his jeans and then gently tugs his wrist out of jimin’s hold only to shake his hand loose, splay out his fingers and wriggle them for a second before he holds them out, offers his hand to jimin.
jimin takes it and leads namjoon away through the crowd.
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
fifteen minutes later namjoon is sitting up on the vee of a kitchen counter and jimin is standing inside his spread legs.
jimin still isn't totally used to these parties, these spaces. he doesn't think he'll ever be, but that's maybe because he doesn't want to be. he's here to get the best education possible and he's making the most of his time here while he can, but he's known since before he applied for school here that he'll return home as soon as he graduates. he's here for a purpose and once that's been served, he's out of here. he has no interest in prolonging the experience. even here, at a party hosted by one of his dance seniors and almost entirely populated by koreans and korean-americans, he has his shoes on indoors and he's only glad about that, because his shoes are sticky and it seems like his socks should thank him.
they’d both accepted exactly one nasty ass shot of tequila from jungkook, namjoon derailing for a second to greet jungkook by name, to ask how he’s been and why jungkook has stopped coming to namjoon’s office hours, but once they’d both thumped a suddenly choking jungkook on the back hard enough that he could breathe again, they’d abandoned their shot glasses and retreated into this corner alone, the two of them together.
“so you’re a TA? when did you move here?” it seems to jimin like namjoon has been on american soil longer than he has - some sense of ease about him that jimin can't quite explain, but that's there beneath the surface even when he's panicking openly at talking to jimin - but that wouldn't be hard when jimin has only been here for three years.
“yeah, just a first year grad student but i help out with the freshman classes. i did international high school back home and spoke a lot of english before i got here. you’re a junior?”
it’s absolutely adorable that namjoon doesn’t even pretend not to know things about jimin. it’s flattering as fuck and jimin doesn’t get flattered. he just gets what he wants.
“how do you know stuff about me but i don’t know anything about you, hyung?” he wonders out loud.
namjoon’s cheeks pink up but he only shrugs.
“i see you around campus sometimes. you’re always running somewhere or with someone. you’ve never noticed me.”
he says it like it’s mere explanation. like he’s not bothered by it and maybe he isn’t, but jimin is. he lifts his hands to namjoon’s knees, lets them smooth up his warm denim-covered thighs but not too far.
“i should have noticed you. i kind of can't believe i wasted my time looking at anyone else.” jimin doesn’t do flattery either. he’s just blunt. “hey, you know i’ve fucked both your friends, right?”
in a lot of ways, being in america - or maybe just being away from korea - has made it easier for jimin to feel like he can lean more into who he is. who he has learned he likes to be, now that he has the freedom to figure it out for himself without quite as much judgement as he'd get for it back home, though the other kinds of scrutiny he gets here are significant and much worse in different ways. it is what it is and like all things about this experience, jimin is making it work for him. looking at namjoon now, he decides he's done a pretty good job, if it got him here.
namjoon laughs, but it’s sharp. the sound sings like iron on iron and jimin doesn’t know that only turns him on more.
“yeah. i know.”
“and that doesn’t bother you?” even if it does, jimin won’t apologize for something he’s not sorry for. but he will be sorry about what he’ll miss out on.
“i mean,” namjoon crosses his arms over his chest but it’s not a defensive gesture. he settles back with his shoulders against the kitchen cupboard and looks comfortable. lets jimin keep touching him. “it bothered me at the time maybe. like i know you didn’t know me then but was it really necessary to fuck both of my roommates the same weekend? that almost felt like a personal attack.”
“you were jealous, hyung?” jimin asks and it’s stupid, because namjoon’s roommmates are hot, but neither of them had made him feel the way he does now. he doesn’t think he’s ever been this excited about the prospect of fucking someone.
at that, namjoon looks embarrassed.
“stupid, i know. like they’re … them and i’m me. i’m not dumb enough to think you’d have wanted me, but i still wished you had.”
not much of what’s happening tonight makes sense like overall, but this specifically feels like a moment of significant derailment.
“what do you mean? you’re you? what’s that supposed to mean?” jimin is capital p popular on this campus and rightly so, but namjoon has to know that he’s talked about the way he is; in hushed reverence, in agonized whispered gossip. everybody wants jimin and some of them he lets have him, but it seems like everybody wants namjoon too and jimin is no different, jimin is right there alongside them, just one of the masses for once. for this boy.
is he supposed to believe that namjoon just hasn’t noticed?
the blush on namjoon’s cheeks is burning now. his skin would be hot to the touch, jimin thinks.
“i mean. i know i’m not hideous or anything. probably. but it’s not like people … pursue me. not like they do with you, with my friends.”
oh, man. oh, god.
“namjoon hyung, when was the last time someone asked you out on a date?”
the thing is, jimin knows that taehyung asked namjoon if he could come back to daegu with him and meet his parents the very first time he’d been introduced to him. jungkook might have taken months to get there, but he’d lain in a ball on jimin’s couch and cried for days after he’d worked up the nerve to ask namjoon out for coffee and namjoon had refused.
tugging on one of his ears lobes, namjoon seems to think. hard.
“maybe when i was a sophomore? i think. my feminist lit professor was like … really good with words. too good, maybe. even though i wasn’t into her i almost said yes.”
“and no one since then?” jimin doesn’t think namjoon is lying. he has no reason to, but he also looks like he’s telling the truth. his face is so open, so soft and so loud about what he’s thinking that jimin doesn’t think he could tell a lie if his life depended on it.
“nah. which is fine. i mean, it’s 2019. who even asks people out on dates anymore?” he’s got a point. but he has also somehow managed to mix the fact that the answer to that question is “everyone, almost everyone,” when applied to him specifically.
jimin is beginning to put the pieces together and it’s all starting to add up into something ridiculously promising.
“you think a lot, huh?” jimin asks, maybe out of left field for the conversation, but not really, not if you actually pay attention to what namjoon is saying. kind of hard to do if you’re caught up in how stupidly fucking hot namjoon is instead, but jimin is motivated now. “spend a lot of time turning shit over in your head, looking for all the angles, i bet.” he lets his hands slip further up namjoon’s thighs, digs his fingers in and grips. “sometimes you need to just say what you want, right? keep it simple.”
even though his shoulders are still pressed to the wooden cabinets mounted on the wall behind him, namjoon’s hips are shifting forward on the counter top, stretching him out into a long lean of torso and so much leg, his knees closing in around jimin’s hips.
“it’s never simple though,” he says, quiet like a confession, “there’s always so many different things words can mean. so many nuances to social exchange. people talk so much, all the time and i feel like i almost never know what they mean.” he sighs like he’s disappointed in himself and jimin barely manages to stop himself from cooing at him.
poor, sweet namjoon. big, lovely, smart namjoon who spends so much time interpreting things that he’s missing what’s actually being said.
probably the only people who have ever gotten anywhere with him had to spell it out in neon letters and even then he’d take the time to pause and examine the font, the pantone code.
poor super hot namjoon, relentlessly pursued but never even noticing it because all this time he’s been waiting for someone to just tell him what they want.
college kids, notoriously self conscious and near constantly spiraling couldn’t lay out what they wanted from namjoon in simple and sensible terms even if they tried. everybody just wants him, period, doesn’t know how to put all of that into words and jimin gets it, jimin knows the feeling.
but jimin is also, unlike them, smart enough to unlock namjoon’s code and confident enough to actually do it.
“namjoon hyung,” jimin puts his fingers through the belt loops on namjoon’s jeans and tugs until namjoon is sitting up straight. he lifts his face so that when namjoon’s chin drops forward, seeks him out like he’s magnetized, jimin is basically speaking against namjoon’s mouth. “i need to tell you two things. i’m not going to lie to you, so even though you might find it hard, you should listen to me and try your best to just understand. okay?”
when namjoon nods their lips brush. in his peripheral vision jimin sees that muscle feather in namjoon’s jaw. he pushes his hips harder into the counter, takes a deep breath in through his nose and speaks.
“number one - most of the student body has been trying to fuck you for years now, and not just the asian faction, hyung,” namjoon frowns but he doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t ask questions or try to deny it. “number two - i want to fuck you.”
for a second, namjoon doesn’t do anything. he clearly heard everything jimin said, but he doesn’t react, doesn’t try to speak for a moment. he just stays as he is, looking into jimin’s eyes like he’s waiting for something. he opens his mouth, about to speak, but then he hums and chews on his bottom lip instead, stays silent. he’s thinking. he’s trying to understand.
eventually, he speaks.
“can i kiss you now?”
jimin would laugh, if he had time to waste. but he doesn’t, so he pushes up on his toes and presses his mouth hard into namjoon’s in response; gives him what he asked for and waits to see what he’s going to do with it.
in an instant, namjoon is unfurling into motion. his knees come up off the counter to get his legs locked hard around jimin’s hips and his hands lift to jimin’s face, cupping his jaw and tilting his chin up further. he licks into jimin’s mouth like someone’s about to tell him to stop, or maybe like they’ve already been doing this for hours and he’s starving now, worked past want into need.
all jimin can do is put his hands on the counter top and let his palms take some of his weight, because he can lean in and up and let namjoon cling to him, let him take his mouth like he never intends to give it back, but he knows that if he gets his hands on namjoon he’ll cause a scene. and he’s no stranger to that, but namjoon is.
after a hard and frantic moment, namjoon drags his mouth away and pants shallowly against jimin’s cheek, his eyelashes fluttering closed with his face still pressed so close that jimin feels it.
“are you okay?” jimin whispers and he doesn’t know why he’s whispering, he doesn’t know why he gives a fuck, but he does.
namjoon nods, but then he’s opening his eyes and pressing his lips together and leaning back, letting his legs fall away.
“i need to process,” he says and jimin had seen this coming, but he’s still disappointed.
instead of just fucking namjoon like he could have, of course he insisted on making namjoon fully understand just how and why jimin wanted to fuck him, instead.
making things simple for namjoon is a whole lot of work for jimin.
but namjoon kisses him again before he goes, carefully taps jimin’s number into his phone before he leaves the party at 11pm without having so much as made eye contact with anyone else.
and, well. jimin can work with that.
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
jimin is still at the party when the first message comes. it’s from a number he doesn’t have saved, but that doesn’t matter once he reads it.
jimin’s still smirking at his phone when someone walks up and stops right in front of him, waits for him to look up. he’s about to tell whoever it is that he’s not interested because without even seeing who it is, he knows he isn’t. not now.
but when he lifts his head, it’s kim seokjin’s hot little emo friend that’s glaring at him. namjoon’s roommate. jimin struggles to remember his name. it’s like. yoonki. yoonagi. yoonsible. yoobee? maybe taehyung is right and jimin does need to start taking notes.
“hi there,” jimin says carefully, trying for polite but also decidedly not interested, because there’s a fine line he has to toe here. he needs to be nice to this human being because he’s important to namjoon but he also needs to not be too nice, because jimin finds in himself absolutely no desire to bang someone who isn’t namjoon. how long that lasts, remains to be seen.
“namjoon isn’t like me. he’s not like us,” yoo-something says, warning flashing in his eyes.
before jimin can reply, seokjin walks up behind him, tugs yoo-whatever back a little, sighing.
“yoongi,” jesus, thank god, this conversation was about to be a nightmare, “namjoon’s a big boy and we’re not his parents. he can make his own decisions. he made this one a long time ago.”
interesting. very interesting.
jimin doesn’t have to say anything here, but he finds he wants to, anyway.
“i’m not gonna do anything namjoon doesn’t want me to do,” he says, not sure why he’s defending himself. “plus, at least i’m being honest with him. same can’t be said for you two, huh?”
they both stare at him.
“uh, hello. he had no idea that literally everyone wants to fuck him? why would you keep that from him?”
seokjin, at least, looks chastised but yoongi only rolls his eyes.
“maybe because we didn’t want to see his brain explode? he couldn’t handle it. we were looking out for him.”
“by lying to him? by letting him think no one wanted him? were you trying to keep him all to yourselves, is that it?”
and maybe jimin would pay to watch that, but that doesn’t mean he can’t also be offended on namjoon’s behalf. even if he did only meet him tonight. even if he himself is heartily invested in getting namjoon on his knees.
“it’s not like that,” seokjin says, but yoongi doesn’t say anything at all and isn’t that telling.
“whether it is or it isn’t, he knows the truth now. he also knows that i’m interested in him, so like - good luck,” jimin says. done with this conversation, he blows them both a kiss and walks away, grabbing his jacket and shooting a text off to jungkook and taehyung saying he’s bailing early.
neither namjoon’s roommates nor this party hold any interest for him now.
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
twenty minutes later he’s tucked up in bed, warm from a shower and reaching for his phone with damp hands.
he doesn’t know why he’s asking. he doesn’t know why he cares. he doesn’t know why it bothers him to think that namjoon might want to fuck people that aren’t him. especially when he himself has already fucked those people. and plenty more besides. this is kind of giving him a headache. personal growth is not for him, he’d always known that.
and shit. yes, jimin does know him.
god knows there’s more pressing things to focus on here, but all jimin’s stupid one track mind can focus on is how him and namjoon have touched the same person.
the reply takes a couple minutes to come and jimin starts to sweat, starts to wonder if fucking two of namjoon’s roommates didn’t disqualify him as someone namjoon would let into his bed, but maybe three was crossing the line.
that’s cool. that is - inexplicably - very good news, for jimin.
this consideration comes courtesy of taehyung, by way of jungkook mostly. jimin talks about sex the way he talks about the weather but jungkook had spent probably the first four months of their accidental friendship blushing and chewing on his sweater paws every time he was around jimin. and that was after jimin had had him clawing at his sheets, crying and begging for jimin to fuck him.
most people need to get comfortable with someone before they have these kinds of discussions. according to taehyung. as illustrated by jungkook.
jimin has known namjoon for - he checks the time on his phone - four hours now.
jesus. jimin might be in love.
‘i want you more than i’ve ever wanted anyone’, he doesn’t say. but he could. it’s true.
it takes a considerable and concentrated effort on his part, but jimin doesn’t kick his feet against his sheets in delight. he does roll over onto his stomach and start to type a small essay, though, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration.
when jimin knows what he wants, literally nothing can stand in the way of him getting it. he ruts against his sheets a little, just a quick hard grind of pressure because he hasn’t been completely soft since he first saw namjoon. he’s had a pretty much constant awareness of his dick and heat pulsing between his legs, clenching in his belly when he thinks about kissing namjoon, when he lets himself imagine getting to touch him properly.
fuck, indeed. jimin has to close his eyes, press his forehead into his sheets and heave a deep breath into them. he doesn’t know what makes this so different, why everything about kim namjoon feels different, but just his text messages could make jimin come in his shorts like a fucking teenager. jimin didn’t even do that when he was a teenager.
he doesn’t know what to do. he could call namjoon, get them both off that way, or he could lie here and hump his bed like an animal, texting someone who probably lives within a mile of him.
he’s still debating the respective merits of both when his phone vibrates in his hand.
jimin has to grip his dick tight tight tight in his hand. he wonders if he has time to get off before he gets namjoon here, because he’s going to spend all night changing this man’s life.
he texts his address with one hand, the other brushing through his hair. he needs to dry it, needs to put something nicer than his sleep shorts and taehyung’s old painting shirt on.
he only notices that he has new messages when he’s finished blow drying his hair into soft waves that fall away from his face. he’s changed into a nice pair of underwear - tight, short cut pastel pink silk briefs and a white scoop neck tshirt that falls off one shoulder, material thin enough that he might as well not be wearing it at all.
he stands in front of his bathroom mirror and thinks about maybe putting a little make-up on when he scrolls through the messages.
jimin puts his head against the bathroom mirror and laughs out of sheer exasperation.
jimin has never said that. to anyone. he never seeks out opportunities to hurt people, but he knows he has. he’s never cared before, because it's never been something he's done on purpose or anything that was brought about by him lying. but he thinks about fucking namjoon now, and he can't help but think - for the first time he can really remember - about what might happen after. and not only what he might want to happen after, but what namjoon could want, too. that has never mattered to jimin before.
kim namjoon has him fucked up and they haven’t even fucked yet.
he smooths some bb cream over the bags under his eyes, smokes a thin line of eyeshadow out along his lash line and slicks his lips with a wet look gloss. now is not the time to play coy.
while jimin is still reading the message, there’s a hesitant knock on his front door.
_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/_/
this part has never been awkward for jimin, but he’s surprised to find that he’s nervous.
“fuck. i’m actually nervous,” he tells namjoon, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into his apartment.
namjoon doesn’t seem to care much for awkward either, because he as soon as he has stepped inside he just comes where jimin pulls him, follows him forward until he has jimin pressed up against the wall in his front hall. he’s got his ridiculously cute beanie on again and that same hoodie from earlier, a pair of sweatpants that all things considered, do a lot for jimin. if namjoon was his boyfriend, he’d keep him in sweatpants all the time. he’d never let him keep his dick any further than one stretchy waistband from him.
“same. i can’t believe this is happening. i’ve dreamed about this. i’ve jerked off thinking about you so many times it’s actually pretty embarrassing.”
he doesn’t look embarrassed though. he looks like he’s about twenty seconds away from picking jimin up and carrying him to the first flat service he can find.
jimin pushes his beanie off and lets it fall to the floor. he pushes his fingers through namjoon’s hair, brushing it back out of his eyes like he’s wanted to all night. with his arms lifted up out of the way, namjoon moves in closer, gets them pressed together so jimin almost goes cross eyed trying to look up into namjoon’s face.
“where the fuck have you been hiding, kim namjoon?” he asks, not even caring that the wonder he feels is so loud in the way he says it. fuck love, jimin is full swooning. namjoon is so absurdly cute. all tall and sweet and so adorably grateful, like jimin is doing him a favour when actually, it’s the other way around.
“i don’t know, but i’m never going back there,” namjoon says, leaning down to suck the lip gloss off jimin’s bottom lip. it’s a good thing he does, because jimin was about to do something incredibly stupid like maybe ask him to stay here, instead. forever.
jimin wraps his arms around namjoon’s neck, lifts his head to make the stretch less extreme for namjoon. tall has always been one of jimin’s types, but namjoon is next level. he’s tall and broad and strong but he carries himself like he’s none of those things. he clings to jimin like jimin is twice his size.
“can we - do you wanna come to my bedroom?” jimin asks and he doesn’t know where this uncertainty, this carefulness is coming from. they both know why they’re here. it’s been made explicitly clear. maybe jimin just wants to hear namjoon say it again.
“yes please,” namjoon nods, not moving back, still trying to kiss jimin, who just laughs and pushes him back.
he follows when jimin takes him by the hand, gives him a second to step out of his shoes and then leads him back to his room. he’s following so close on jimin’s heels that when jimin stops at the end of his bed, namjoon bumps into his back and doesn’t move away. it’s pure reflex when jimin shifts back against him, lifts his ass up into the cradle of namjoon’s hips and wriggles there.
all sense of reflex, any muscle memory jimin possessed and every single molecule of air in his body evaporate in an instant when he feels namjoon’s dick.
he whips around so fast his vision blurs for a second.
“kim namjoon. what in the actual fuck is that?”
namjoon’s eyes widen and his hands go to the front of his sweatpants not exactly protectively, but defensively, maybe.
“um. that’s. my dick?”
and this is really not the time for questions. jimin feels like he’s for the first time in his life experiencing what taehyung refers to as ‘hyper focus’ and jungkook calls ‘gaming mode.’ it’s pretty on brand for jimin that it would finally happen for him with a dick.
he sits down on his bed hard and tries not to lean forward.
“can i see it?”
namjoon laughs, but then immediately pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, worries it like now things have finally gotten awkward.
“uh, yeah. but just so you know, i don’t mind bottoming. i’m totally cool with it, that’s usually how this goes for me.” as he talks he starts to tug his sweatpants down, bottom lip still sucked up into his mouth. he isn’t wearing any underwear, which jimin personally thinks is a miracle performed right here in his bedroom and just for him, because with his sweatpants pulled down to mid-thigh and his cock held loosely in one hand, namjoon shows jimin a glimpse of god.
namjoon’s dick is big. like, really big. namjoon’s hands are pretty fucking big too and it looks like it would almost take both of them stacked to cover his cock completely.
“is … are you getting harder?” jimin hasn’t blinked in about four minutes. he’s not about to blink now, when namjoon is still loosely fisting his cock and it’s thickening up, the head flushing. blood rushes to jimin’s face as he watches and it must mean something that namjoon’s cock and him blush at the same time. they’re soulmates, probably.
“yeah. this is almost there, but,” namjoon shrugs, still looks vaguely uncomfortable for the first time in the entirety of their hours long relationship and jimin is having none of it.
“but fucking nothing, hyung,” he says, reaching out and lifting the hem of namjoon’s hoodie up until it’s sitting high around his ribs. he holds it there when he leans in and goes for namjoon’s cock tongue first. it’s so fucking hot in his mouth, namjoon’s hand still curled around the base but the rest of it so deep in jimin’s mouth, his lips pressed to namjoon’s thumb and index finger and the head almost almost touching the back of his throat. he wants to push namjoon’s hand away, wants to put namjoon’s hands on the back of his head and let him skullfuck him until his cock is down jimin’s neck. but first.
“it’s an actual crime that anyone has ever made you bottom,” he says, voice thick with spit because his cock dumb mouth won’t stop watering. “i mean, if you’re into that, we can definitely - i seriously do not mind at all if you want to -”
“no,” namjoon is quick to interrupt, “you can fuck me if you want to, i’d let you do anything you wanted to me and be into it, but i bottom because people don’t usually want to try and take me. only a couple of people have tried and it didn’t always go well.”
jimin laughs and namjoon looks at him like he’s crazy.
“oh, baby,” jimin gets on his knees on the bed, reaches up to pull namjoon forward by his hoodie and kisses him with his mouth still fucking pulsing for namjoon’s cock. “i’m sorry you seem to sleep exclusively with slackers, but i’ve got you, now. i want your big, beautiful dick inside me every single way we can get it there.”
slightly alarmingly, namjoon makes a sound that’s almost a sob. when jimin pulls back to look at him, he’s pouting and his eyes are shining.
“or not?” jimin is quick to reassure him, needs namjoon to know that literally any way he can have him in his bed is going to be more than enough for him, “we don’t have to, whatever you want is -”
“shut up,” namjoon says, pulling his hoodie off and jesus sweet fucking christ his arms. his biceps. jimin clamps his thighs together. “what part of this do you not get? you’re the hottest person i’ve ever seen, i’ve been waddling around this campus in a pretty much constant cloud of dick lust for you for years and now not only do i get to actually sleep with you, but you’re going to let me put my uselessly big dick in you? i’m overwhelmed.”
jimin laughs and drags namjoon down onto the bed with him, gets on his back with namjoon lying between his legs. the head of his cock is dribbling onto jimin’s silk shorts and jimin seriously thinks he and namjoon’s cock have some kind of very deep and important connection.
“you shut up,” he says, wrapping his legs around the backs of namjoon’s thighs, holding him down while namjoon pushes his tshirt off and throws it across the room, immediately sucks one of jimin’s nipples between his lips and licks at it. “don’t say such disparaging things about my new best friend.”
honestly, jimin could pretty happily just lie here and grind up on namjoon until they both come. he’s definitely going to, one day. namjoon’s cock feels so good against his, against his belly, makes jimin want to get spread eagled on the bed and beg.
that’s not how this is going to go, though and jimin has known that all night. he knew it before he even kissed namjoon at the party. knew it once he talked to him for about ten seconds and actually heard what namjoon was saying.
“so you want to?” he asks namjoon, putting a finger under namjoon’s chin and using it to tilt his face up to look at him, “you wanna put your big dick in my ass?”
namjoon blinks and then jimin actually sees his pupils dilate.
“please,” namjoon says, getting on his knees to crawl up over jimin, staying caged over him with his arms holding his weight, his hands on either side of jimin’s face and his head dropped low between his shoulders. all he’s wearing is that fucking choker. “please let me.”
jimin smiles and cocks his head, hums like he’s considering it.
“i don't know, hyung,” jimin says slowly, deliberately looks down between their bodies at where the tip of namjoon’s cock almost touches jimin’s stomach, even with namjoon on his hands and knees over him. “how do i know you’re gonna make it good for me, huh? it’s not like guys with big dicks are known for being selfless in bed.”
namjoon’s face falls, he looks so fucking sad for a second that jimin wonders if he’s gonna cry. he decides he wouldn’t be opposed to seeing that. he doubles down on that decision when namjoon’s cock burbles a wet bead of pre-cum into his bellybutton.
“i can be good, i’ll be so good for you,” namjoon rushes to promise, “please let me try.”
his forehead is creased up and his arms are trembling now. jimin rubs his hands from namjoon’s wrists all the way up to his shoulders and back down again. soothes him even as he’s riling him up more.
“you’re lucky you’re hot,” jimin says, sighing like he’s put upon. “i’m gonna let you finger me but if you suck at it you’re not getting anywhere near my ass with that monster cock of yours, do you hear me?” for the first time in jimin’s life, it’s actually difficult to stay in character. he was born a power bottom, but namjoon makes him feel like maybe he’s just been reborn as still a power bottom, but now super fucking slutty for it.
“yes. anything you want, whatever you’ll let me do for you,” namjoon says, dropping down onto his elbows but not trying to kiss jimin, just looking at his mouth and waiting.
“such a good boy, aren’t you?” jimin says, lost in wonder again. still, maybe.
he lifts his head off the bed to catch namjoon’s mouth and namjoon moans the second their lips touch. they kiss wetly, slow and deep until namjoon is breathing hard through his nose and humping jimin’s stomach. he’s got his hands up under jimin’s shorts and jimin is just too fucking impatient.
“up. off me,” he orders and namjoon scrambles back so fast he almost falls off the bed. he sits at the end of it with his gorgeous legs folded up underneath him and puts his hands in his lap, doesn’t even try to touch his cock. seems like a waste, to jimin.
jimin drags his shorts off and kicks them away, grabs for the lube from his bedside table and then takes a minute to root through his drawer for a condom that’ll fit namjoon. he doesn’t even know why he has this size because god knows he’s never needed them before, but he’s incredibly fucking glad that he does. he throws both onto the sheets and then crooks a finger at namjoon, who moves forward immediately, knee walks up the bed until he gets within touching distance of jimin again.
when he gets there, jimin reaches out for his cock. and the thing is, he’d known that his hands were gonna be too small for him to be able to close his fingers around namjoon’s shaft, but it still kind of knocks the wind out of him when he tries and can’t.
“jesus. look at that, hyung,” he says and then they’re both on their knees in the middle of the bed staring down between their bodies where jimin has both hands on namjoon’s cock, fingers never meeting around it, the fat head of it still fully visible and leaking over the stack of his fists.
“oh god,” namjoon says, shifting up into jimin’s hands, “fuck. fuck.”
“i’m gonna need you to text me like, so many pictures of your dick. just. for future reference,” jimin tells him, still absolutely fucking mesmerised by the way his hands strain around namjoon’s dick. still not unaffected by the way namjoon just holds still, hands by his sides and lets jimin do whatever he wants with him.
“okay, yeah. sure,” he agrees, so fucking eager to please and jimin needs to move, needs to do something before his brain just leaks out of his balls.
“c’mon, give me your hand, hyung. let me suck on those gorgeous fingers.”
namjoon shudders and holds up one hand, doesn’t try to stick his fingers in jimin’s mouth, just holds it out.
jimin runs his tongue from namjoon’s wrist up over his palm, up to the very tip of his index finger before he dips forward and sucks it into his mouth.
“wanted to suck on your knuckles the second i saw these hands,” he says, garbled around his mouthful but he doesn’t give a shit because namjoon gets it. namjoon swears and presses his middle finger in too, rubs both down against jimin’s tongue and whimpers. “other hand,” he demands and namjoon dutifully lifts it up for jimin to drip lube all over.
“can i, can i please,” namjoon all but pants.
“yeah, c’mon. put your lovely big fingers in my ass, hyung.”
jimin had gone to that party tonight to get fucked and he generally wasn’t in the habit of leaving these matters up to others, so namjoon finds pretty quickly that he can go straight in with two fingers.
“fuck,” he says as he does, “i never thought i’d - never dreamed i’d get to do this.”
jimin feels too good to respond, just rocks down onto namjoon’s fingers, three of them stretching him open now and lifts back up to tongue namjoon’s knuckles. he shuffles forward and the height difference is too much for him to be able to get their cocks pressed together, but even just seeing them so close to each other makes him whine around namjoon’s fingers. namjoon’s dick is so much darker than his, so much fucking bigger. he wants to track down every single person that ever made namjoon feel like he had to bottom for them and punch them in the face.
but then namjoon curls the fingers he has in jimin’s ass forward at the same time as he grinds his dick up into jimin’s belly and tries to kiss him around his own fingers in jimin’s mouth and jimin is the one that feels like he’s been punched.
“four. do four quick, before i come on your hand,” he almost pleads, but not quite. he’s still holding on, holding out. “your dick better be worth it, hyung.”
“it will be,” namjoon says, kissing jimin’s cheek, licking at the corner of his lips, “i can be what you need,” he says, but he’s begging really.
pushing back onto four of namjoon’s fingers with both of his little hands around namjoon’s big, leaking cock is somewhere jimin thinks he could happily live for months, years maybe.
“want you in me everywhere,” he confesses, slipping a little, but it doesn’t matter because namjoon is holding his cheeks apart with one hand and letting his stretched out hole pulse around all four fingers of the other, leaning down to kiss jimin and almost sobbing into his mouth.
“same,” he says, in between kisses, “i wanted this for so fucking long. never want anything else.”
anyone else, he might mean. anyone else, jimin finds himself hoping he means.
even just rolling a condom down onto namjoon’s cock is a brand new experience for jimin. he’s taken toys this big before, but toys don’t jerk in your hand, you can’t feel the vein in toys pulsing when you put your tongue to it.
“i love your cock,” jimin tells namjoon and namjoon does tear up, then.
“stop fucking blubbering and put this perfect cock in me, namjoon,” he says, trying for stern but landing somewhere just past fond, instead, “if you’re too busy crying to fuck me properly i’ll have to call one of your roommates. maybe two of them. or all three? is hobi home, hyung?”
it’s mean. it’s cruel, honestly, but namjoon comes alive for it. there’s still tears slipping down his cheeks, but his movements get certain, he finally stops second guessing himself.
“how do you wanna take me?” he asks and jimin grins at him, shows him his teeth.
“i’m gonna ride you first,” he says, already pushing namjoon around to get him arranged like he wants him, “and then we’ll see.”
any other time, jimin would sit on namjoon’s stomach like this and maybe make him watch jimin jerk off onto his chest, or make him finger jimin without touching his own dick. next time, maybe. but he can feel the head of namjoon’s cock press lube-sticky between his cheeks and he wants.
“hold your cock for me, hyung,” he admonishes, slapping lightly at namjoon’s side, “at least pretend to be a gentleman when i’m about to let you get in my ass with your monster dick.”
“of course, m’sorry,” namjoon rushes to say, brows furrowed in concentration as he reaches between jimin’s legs to grip his own cock when jimin rises up onto his knees over his hips.
“don’t push in, not right away,” jimin almost begs, his legs already trembling, not from overexertion but just from sheer fucking desire, “tease me with it.”
namjoon does as he’s told. of course he does. he holds the wet head of his cock to jimin’s hole and lets it start to slip inside, only to push it up over the stretch of him, leave him clenching on nothing. he rubs up against jimin’s perineum, lets his cock push jimin’s balls up into his own steadily leaking cock and then tugs jimin down with one hand, makes him ride the hot shaft of him until jimin is about to start pleading.
“please,” namjoon says, instead, “please can i put it in? want to be inside you, jimin.” he grips jimin’s hip so hard that jimin has to look up at him, “can’t fucking stand it that my stupid, shitty roommates got to fuck you and i haven’t. please. please, jimin,” he begs.
“yeah,” jimin breathes, “yeah, yes. come on,” he urges, putting his hands on namjoon’s chest and letting them take his weight, inhaling sharply when namjoon puts the head of his cock to his hole and starts to push in.
it’s a slow slide. namjoon pauses twice to add more lube and jimin’s breathing becomes a shallow set of hiccups, half words and broken sounds that taper off into one long “oh” when namjoon finally stops moving.
“is that -” he tries to breathe, tries to concentrate, “is that all of you? are you fully in me?”
“yeah,” namjoon tells him, voice low low low, his eyebrows pulled together, “that’s - are you okay?”
it’s a stretch. it’s a lot. jimin has to sit totally still for a minute, for two and then he sits up a little, shifts experimentally.
“what do you say, hyung?” he asks, looking down at namjoon and lifting his eyebrows, waiting.
“thank you,” namjoon whispers, his hands on jimin’s thighs, his touch reverent. he’s looking up at jimin like he’s art, sitting up on his hips, sitting still for namjoon, full with him. “thank you, jimin.”
“fuck,” jimin has to tip his head up to the ceiling because namjoon’s cock feels so good inside him, namjoon looks so fucking good underneath him that he can’t handle both at once. “move. fuck me, you gorgeous moron.”
namjoon makes a face at him but does as he’s told, slowly, carefully starts to lift his hips to get his cock back inside jimin every time he lifts up off it.
“moron?” he asks and jimin reaches blindly to pinch his nipple, hard, isn’t sure if he regrets it or not when namjoon shouts a little and accidentally pushes up into him faster, harder.
“you’re so dumb,” jimin doesn’t mind telling him, “so fucking stupid to think that no one wanted you, hyung. who wouldn’t want this? who the fuck wouldn’t want you like this in their bed?” he snarls, actually pissed off at namjoon for a second, falling forward and reaching out to knot his fingers in the long hair on the top of namjoon’s head, pulling hard. “with your huge stupid dick and your chest and your fucking face, jesus fuck. if i’d found you sooner, you'd be carrying me around campus by now because i'd refuse to get off this cock. i’d make you come to my lectures, let me sit on your cock during class.”
“i’ll do that,” namjoon says, both hands on jimin’s hips now, not even looking at him because he’s too busy watching his huge cock push up into jimin’s little hole, his mouth open like he can’t believe what he’s seeing. “i’d do anything for you.”
and jimin just can’t, anymore. he can’t even look at him because he can’t concentrate on getting fucked when he’s looking at namjoon’s face and thinking about kissing him, thinking about all the torrid, kinky shit they could get up to together.
he sits up off of namjoon’s cock and his ass makes the filthiest, wettest slurping sound he’s ever heard. he doesn’t even care, doesn’t even pause.
he lies down next to namjoon and grabs his arm, pulls him onto his side until he’s spooning jimin from behind.
“c’mon, like this,” he says, lifting his top leg up and putting his knee high on the bed in front of him. he holds his cheeks open, “put it back in me, c’mon.”
it’s different, this way. better, because namjoon slowly pushes back in, grinds up against him until his balls are slapping sticky against jimin’s ass and he curls forward around him, all over him. jimin can feel him everywhere, can smell him, hear him, but doesn’t have to look at him. this is going to be over way too soon if he can see him.
he laughs, thinking about that and namjoon pauses, pulls jimin’s hips back and down onto his dick and just holds him there, keeps him full.
“what are you laughing at?” he asks, kind of quiet, too careful.
“oh no, baby,” jimin says, lifting his chin up, twisting over his shoulder so namjoon can lean in and kiss him. “m’not laughing at you, sweetheart.”
namjoon whines, pulls away and presses his forehead to the back of jimin’s shoulder, grinds in and in and in even though he can’t possibly get any closer, is already all the way inside jimin. he’s trembling.
“i’m laughing at me,” jimin tells him, quiet and so fucking out of his depth, “laughing at myself because i literally can’t look at you right now i’m so close to blowing my load. you’re fucking me so well, filling me up so good that remembering how fucking hot you are would have this over for me in seconds.”
“stupid,” namjoon murmurs against his sweaty skin, fucking him properly again, pulling out slow and then fucking back in hard, stilling when he’s all the way inside jimin, letting him feel him there. “i don’t give a shit who wanted to fuck me, i only ever wanted you.”
jimin hole spasms, clenches; half instinct, half pure fucking shyness, which is ridiculous. jimin laughs again.
“you make me shy, hyung,” he says, still half giggling, “made my butt clench down on your cock ‘cus you’re so sweet to me.”
namjoon stays deep, his shoulders shaking against jimin’s.
“i know this is a bad time and i don’t have any right to ask,” he starts and jimin doesn’t care what he’s about to ask for, he’ll give it to him, whatever it is. however he can. “but please don’t fuck my roommates again. or like, anybody else. let me give you what you need. ask me for what you want. and if i can’t give it to you, then fine. fuck someone else. fuck whoever you want. but let me try, first. please, jimin. just let me try.”
“do you really think you can give me what i want?” jimin asks, slipping back into his role, falling back into old habits. “show me, then. show me how good you can be for me, namjoon.”
and then jimin is face down in his sheets, namjoon climbing up over him and lifting his leg up as far as it’ll go, bracing himself over jimin with one hand while the other hand grips jimin’s ass cheek, keeps him held open so namjoon can push back into him. he fucks jimin hard and fast now, jolting his body up the bed with every thrust until jimin puts both hands on his headboard so he can push back onto namjoon’s cock. he puts his face into his pillow and bites down, tries to muffle the sound but he knows namjoon can hear him, is listening to him sob for the fucking he’s getting.
“like this? is this good enough for you, jimin-ah?” namjoon asks, voice rough but not as rough as his hips, slapping so hard against jimin’s ass that jimin hopes he’ll bruise. “is this what you want?”
“yes,” jimin bites out, closing his eyes against the tears that are gathering there, turning his face to the side so namjoon can hear him, so he can see exactly what he’s doing to him, “m’fucking crying, namjoon. you’re fucking me so good i’m crying for it.”
“good,” namjoon says, pushing in so hard it’s almost vicious. it’s perfect. he’s fucking perfect. “remember this next time you think about calling someone else. remember what this feels like.” he puts a hand on jimin’s shoulder and pulls him back, pulls him up until namjoon’s sitting on his heels with jimin held tight in his lap, both of namjoon’s huge hands covering his hips to hold him down on his cock. “think about just this next time you want to get off,” he says right into jimin’s ear and jimin shivers so hard his whole body shakes with it, “and then fucking call me, because wherever i am, whatever i’m doing, i’ll drop everything to come fuck you. i’ll do anything i need to do to get my cock back inside you.”
he puts one big hand around jimin’s cock when he starts thrusting up into him again and before he even gives him a proper stroke, jimin is shooting come up his own chest, come dripping down his belly, onto his own still jerking cock.
“fuck,” namjoon says, “you’re so fucking pretty, coming on my cock. got so messy just for my dick in your ass.”
all jimin can do is hold on, reach back to get his hands on namjoon’s waist and let his head fall back back over namjoon’s shoulder and hold the fuck on while namjoon fucks him through the aftershocks of his orgasm, cups his softening cock until he’s squirming in namjoon’s lap and namjoon’s holding him still so he can grind in deep and put his teeth to the ball of jimin’s shoulder while he fills the condom inside him.
they breathe together, hard and loud at first and then quieter, easier, until jimin flops forward and namjoon gingerly helps him sit up off his dick. he peels off the condom and ties it, glances around for the wastepaper basket and then tosses the condom when he spots it, makes a clean shot.
“nice,” jimin says, still on his hands and knees because he doesn’t wanna get come all over his sheets and he’s fucking covered in it. he can feel the mess of lube namjoon fucked into him sliding down the inside of his thigh.
“ugh, i need to shower,” he complains and hopes namjoon takes the hint.
“okay,” namjoon says, looking at him blankly for a second. “do you - “
“yes,” jimin says, just as namjoon says “want me to leave?”
“okay,” namjoon says again, starting to get up, but jimin stops him, reaches out to grab him before he can get too far.
“wait, what. what the fuck? no i don’t want you to leave. i want you to shower with me. you fucked the strength out of my legs and now you’re gonna leave me to drown because of your massive dick?”
jimin is hurt.
“oh,” namjoon says, all small and quiet not five minutes after he literally fucked jimin to tears. ridiculous. such a ridiculous, gorgeous, perfect boy.
“we’re gonna shower, then we’re gonna cuddle, at some point in there i’m gonna snapchat my idiot friends and gloat about fucking their wet dream, you’re going to text your roommates that you’re not coming home this weekend and then we’re going to sleep. tomorrow morning i’m gonna make us breakfast and then i’m going to suck your dick, and then and only then will i accept suggestions from you, because i’m sorry, but i’ve got plans and i don’t like interruptions to my schedule. does that work for you?”
“i’m staying the whole weekend?” namjoon asks, still quiet but smiling now.
“uh, yes. you are,” jimin says.
“you’re gonna let me fuck you again?” namjoon asks, almost grinning.
“um, yes,” jimin tells him, emphatic. determined. committed, honestly.
“jimin-ah, do you have a crush on me?” namjoon is fully laughing now, giggling into his hands and sitting naked on jimin’s bed.
ridiculous!
“i called you pet names, hyung. i asked you for dick pics. of course i have a crush on you. also, we’re dating now.” jimin pauses. he doesn’t know if he can decide that. he’s never dated someone before, he’s not sure about the etiquette of it all. “um. if you want to?”
“i do,” namjoon says, agreeing easily.
“well duh,” jimin says, standing up and grabbing for namjoon’s hand. “now come wash my hair and maybe i’ll let you feel me up as a treat.”
namjoon is on his feet in under a second.
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once they’re back in bed, namjoon showered but still naked because none of jimin’s clothes will fit him, jimin texts his group chat with taehyung and jungkook.
he doesn’t bother waiting for their replies before he sends a second message, this one a pic of namjoon’s dick sitting in between jimin’s butt cheeks, both of them wet and soapy. namjoon had almost dropped jimin’s phone when jimin wouldn’t keep still, had to smack him to behave while he took a clear picture that wasn’t out of focus.
“hey, send that to me,” namjoon says, watching over jimin’s shoulder.
“why? are you gonna send it to your roommates?” jimin doesn’t care, just wants to know.
“fuck no. they’ve seen enough of you. fuckers.” namjoon grumbles, but doesn’t look too mad about it.
“you know,” jimin starts, locking his phone and letting it get lost in the sheets, “there’s plenty of stuff i never did with any of them. i never let any of them fuck me raw. i think i only sucked hobi’s cock. oh and i never rimmed any of them. you should send them a picture of my tongue in your ass, wouldn’t that make you feel better, hyung?”
namjoon looks at him like he’s lost his mind.
and then seems to think it over.
“you know what - it would.”
“cool,” jimin says, “we can make a list in the morning.”
namjoon hums in agreement and then leans in, tugs at jimin’s tshirt a little until he comes close enough for namjoon to kiss him.
“i love this,” he says, soft and low between them, “thank you.”
“like. you’re welcome, but stop thanking me. this isn’t altruism, i really wanna fuck you so much that you get bored of me,” jimin says, kissing away the furrow that appears between namjoon’s eyebrows and then kissing his mouth.
“won’t ever,” namjoon says.
“you’d better not,” jimin warns him, cuddling into him, kissing him some more.
they fall asleep mid-makeout and sleep well into the early afternoon the next day.
they don’t let the late start slow them down, though and by the next evening all of their friends have collectively blocked both of their numbers.
jealousy, is a terrible, terrible thing, jimin decides.
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