Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jimin hadn’t checked the time before driving to Jungkook’s apartment, but he knew that it was way, way too late. Half past 1am, at least, but it was less than a minute after he’d knocked that Jungkook was opening his door, smiling like sunshine, glowing under a head of dark curls.

Eyes locking immediately on Jimin’s neck.

“What?” Jimin felt above his hoodie before remembering. “Oh. Yeah.”

“Is it real?”

“It's just paint,” Jimin laughed, squeezing Jungkook’s arm as he stepped inside. It was dark in his apartment, and Jimin was used to it. 

“For your shoot?” 

“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, shuffling out of his shoes as Jungkook locked the door behind them.  “We finished filming today.”

“Nice,” Jungkook beamed, leading him the familiar walk to his bedroom. His aurora projector glowed from his desk, painting the walls in overlapping colors. “How did it go?”

“Oh, really well. Yeah. Just tiring.” Jimin watched Jungkook fluff two pillows before climbing into bed, sure that he’d fished them out of storage just for him. “It’s a dance video.”

“Was this one the title track?” 

“That’s the next one.” Jimin smiled, tossing his keys, wallet, and phone on Jungkook’s bedside table before crawling in after him, landing on the pillow like he hadn’t slept in weeks.

Jimin was tired in every way he could feel tired. 

Shoulders sore, legs aching, eyes nearly closed, but he was buzzing with the happiness of finishing his music video after months of preparing for it. So exhausted but so content, all of the pieces finally clicking into place. 

“I’m sorry it’s so late.”

Jungkook huffed, adjusting his cheek on a pillow. “It's fine, hyung. I’m always up late.” 

“I still feel bad.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Jungkook grinned. “I’m just happy you’re here.”

“Me, too.”

It had been almost two months since Jimin last visited. 

To call himself busy would be an understatement. His schedule was packed with meetings and photoshoots and work and preparations, writing lyrics, learning choreography, arranging music, studying English, working out, attending meetings, taking photos, so hard to pull himself away once he got into the rhythm of things. He’d barely found enough time to sleep some nights, let alone to make plans with friends, and he’d promised Jungkook at least eight times that he’d come to see him. Had broken that promise just as many times. He was grateful to see some of the members around the company building, but Jungkook hadn’t come often, and time had passed faster than he’d even realized.

He’d sworn that he would visit after work that night, though, no matter how late, finally having the entire next day free. 

“Just remind me to shower before we sleep,” Jimin said through a yawn, cringing knowing he still hadn’t yet. He’d driven straight to the company after his shoot had wrapped, worked on his album for hours, then drove straight to Jungkook’s.

“Okay.” Jungkook nodded, hair fanned on his pillow. “Do you want to watch something?” 

“Sure. Whatever you want.”

“I can make food, if you want some.”

“I ate, but thank you.” Jimin grinned, eyes almost closed. “I mostly just need you to keep me from falling asleep.”

Jungkook brushed Jimin’s forearm. “You can sleep if you need to, hyung. I don’t mind.”

“I don’t want to waste time together.” 

“I don’t care.” Jungkook grinned, pushing Jimin’s hair from his forehead, swiping a thumb over his eyebrow. “We’d still be together. You’ve been working too hard.”

Jimin smiled through the ache in his chest. “I just wish I’d come sooner.”

“It’s fine, hyung. I wasn’t sleeping, anyway.”

“No, I mean, like, weeks ago.” Jimin pressed on Jungkook’s chest. “I wish I’d made time.”

“Don’t, hyung. It’s fine,” Jungkook huffed. Fingers threading in Jimin’s hair. “You’ve been so busy lately.”

“I know.” 

It was still weird, sometimes, not living together. Not having schedules together daily, after spending a decade with all six of them. They still texted constantly, met up when they could, but it was different than it used to be. Hanging out required effort, now, but maybe that made it mean more. 

Jungkook’s bed was still so familiar, the same as in their old dorm, white sheets under the aurora on the walls. The smell of him and his detergent. So used to lying together for hours, playing games or talking all night, eating dinner and sleeping beside each other. 

He didn’t know how to apologize for lost time, not after a decade spent together, but he knew that Jungkook understood. 

“When does your album come out?” 

“The end of March.” Jimin smiled. “Hopefully.”

“How much is left?”

“Not that much.” Jimin yawned again, and Jungkook’s fingers were still in his hair. “I have the jacket shoot and another music video, but the album itself is pretty much done. Just fine-tuning, honestly. It’s mostly promotions after that.”

“Can I come bother you?”

“Sure.” Jimin grinned. Jungkook had come weeks earlier to watch him rehearse, claiming he had nothing better to do, but Jimin knew it was because he’d missed him.

“I don’t want to be annoying, though.”

“You’re never annoying.” Jimin pinched his chest. “Not in a bad way, at least. You can come whenever.”

“I don’t want to distract you.”

“Distraction is good, sometimes. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” Jungkook pouted, the aurora painting the room pretty colors. “What language is that?”

Jimin only realized he’d meant the paint on his neck when Jungkook moved to brush the words there. 

“German. It’s a poem.”

“Cool,” Jungkook huffed, fingers at the base of his neck. “Are there more?”

Jimin grinned, because, yeah. “It’s just one really big one. It goes all the way down.”

“Really?” Jungkook laughed, tucking a finger into Jimin’s hoodie like he’d be able to see anything. “How far down?”

“To my stomach.”

Jungkook’s brows lifted. “You’re shirtless for the video?”

“Kind of.”

Jungkook scanned his chest like he had x-ray vision. “So it’s just body paint, or something?”

“Yeah, I think so?” Jimin guessed, trying to remember. “Something like that. I just know they used stencils, and it took a while.”

Jungkook brushed the side of his neck. “Will it wash off easily?”

“Probably. Maybe not, actually. I don’t know. It’s barely even come off on my shirt.” 

Jungkook stared at his neck, and Jimin watched his eyes watching him. 

“Do you want to see it?”

“Yeah.” 

Jimin had to sit up to tug the hoodie up and over his head, bringing his t-shirt with it, torso painted in blues and greens as he laid back down. 

“Oh, holy shit,” Jungkook whispered.

He lifted a palm to touch him, pressing gently at the words on his chest. Every curve, every letter. Feeling slowly, like the aurora on the walls, as carefully as if Jimin was made of something special. Not pressing hard enough to smudge the paint. 

Jimin exhaled. 

He’d expected teasing, maybe. 

Instead Jungkook was staring like he’d never seen him shirtless, swirling lights and breathing slowly. Touching lightly, every marking, lifting goosebumps wherever he touched. 

“I’m worried it won’t wash off that easily, now,” Jimin mumbled, just to say something. Sure that Jungkook could feel his heartbeat. 

“It will, probably.” Jungkook traced down the center of his chest, feeling the letters on his stomach. “You could always try makeup remover if soap doesn’t work.” 

“That’s true,” Jimin exhaled. Hands desperate to hold onto something. Jungkook soothed his chest with his thumb, moved to his ribcage, and Jimin watched his arm moving. “Sometimes I wish someone else could just wash for me, so I wouldn’t have to do it.”

“I think about that all the time.” Jungkook grinned, tracing down his side. Fingers brushing the tape covering the tattoo on his ribs. “Would make life easier.”

“Yeah,” Jimin exhaled. Tried to breathe normally. 

He didn’t know why he was feeling so much.

Maybe it was how long they’d spent apart, or how tired he was, or the colors changing on the ceiling. The smell of Jungkook every time he inhaled. His heart beating harder than it ever normally did. 

“Do you want to shower before we watch something?” Jungkook interrupted his thoughts, and Jimin realized he’d been staring at Jungkook’s mouth.

Jungkook’s hand slid from one side of Jimin’s stomach to the other, grazing his belly button, caressing his waist before petting up to his chest again. Eyes meeting Jimin’s before looking back down.

“Yeah, I should,” Jimin rasped. He watched Jungkook’s face, lips parted slightly. “I’ll fall asleep if I don’t.”

“Okay.” Jungkook nodded, thumb on Jimin’s chest.

But his hand kept moving. Fingers following Jimin’s collar bone, the curves of his shoulder, sliding down his arm. Feeling the words around his bicep, so gently, moving to his chest again.

Every touch echoing like ripples through water. 

When his pinky touched Jimin’s nipple, Jimin actually flinched. 

“Oh, shit. Sorry-” Jungkook pulled his hand away and met his eyes, rocked out of whatever trance they’d been in. 

“No- It’s fine,” Jimin muttered, finding his eyes before Jungkook looked back down again. “You can- It’s okay.”

Jungkook stayed frozen, palm curled in the air between them. 

“It’s okay,” Jimin promised.

A long, long moment.

When Jungkook moved again it was so slowly, pressing the side of his hand to the center of Jimin’s chest.

It was quiet enough to hear the leaves outside, the fridge humming in the kitchen. Colors sliding on the walls, reds and blues and greens. Jungkook’s hand over Jimin’s heart, staring at the letters on his skin.

“Gguk?” Jimin exhaled.

A silent moment. 

“Mm?”

Brain filled with restless hope, silent fear. Goosebumps down his arms, knowing Jungkook could feel his heartbeat. 

“Do you want to shower with me?” 

Jungkook’s eyes snapped to Jimin’s so fast he could have missed it, then back to his chest.

The whole room silent for a beat too long. 

“I’m- What?” 

“We don’t have to,” Jimin rushed, his voice far too quiet for Jungkook to think he was kidding. “I’m sorry. We don’t have to.”

Jungkook opened his mouth, then closed it, staring at Jimin’s chest.

“We don’t have to,” Jimin repeated. “Only if we- Yeah.”

Another long beat.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” Jimin whispered, so quietly. “If you want to.”

“Like- Really?”

Jimin nodded.

They had seen each other before. 

Life used to be so different, moving quickly and living in a small space. Sharing one shower, changing clothes, sleeping in one room. They had all seen each other naked, had seen each other showering. But it hadn’t been that way in a long, long time. 

And this was so, so different.

This was quiet, and slow, and just the two of them.

But it was something in the way Jungkook had touched him. 

Moving like he hadn’t wanted to stop. 

Feeling Jimin like his body was precious, like he’d wanted to hold him, like time didn’t matter. Weeks without seeing each other, even longer without a moment like this. The way Jungkook’s eyes had lit up when he’d opened the door, gentle fingers in his hair, the fact that when Jimin had texted he was on his way, Jungkook had sent back a red heart. 

Jimin wanted to be close to him.

Wanted to see him, and touch him, and give him anything he wanted. His best friend for more than ten years. Holding everything inside, never wanting to cross that line. 

Maybe the lack of sleep was making him desperate. Months spent working restlessly and sleeping alone every night. Knowing that soon they’d be spending a few years apart, afraid to lose time they could have spent like this.

“Just- I don’t know. Then we wouldn’t have to wash ourselves.”

“We-” Jungkook paused, a thousand emotions crossing his face. “What?” 

“We don’t have to.”

“Are you being serious?” 

“Yeah,” Jimin whispered. “Only if you want to.”

“Do you want to?” Jungkook’s eyes were wide, filled with something Jimin had never seen. Shock and hope and sheer fucking panic, hand still on Jimin’s chest. 

“Yeah.”

“Like, without-” Jungkook scanned Jimin’s face. 

“Yeah. If you’re okay with that.”

A long pause. 

“You’d actually want to wash each other?”

“Yeah.” Jimin felt his chest squeeze, because he knew it was insane. “I mean- Maybe it defeats the whole point of not washing ourselves if we’re washing each other, but, still.”

Jungkook was staring like he’d definitely heard him wrong, like Jimin had grown another head. Like there was no fucking way Jimin had really said that. Blinking fast like he was processing it, eyes racing over his skin. “It wouldn’t-” he finally mumbled, pinky twitching against Jimin’s chest. “It wouldn’t mean anything, right?”

Jimin tried to understand before asking. “What do you mean?”

“Just- It’s not-” Jungkook took a breath. Avoided Jimin’s eyes as he soothed a line down his sternum, picking up a rhythm. “We’re just washing each other?”

The words passed Jimin’s mind like waves hitting the shore, finally realizing what he’d meant.

That it definitely, absolutely, would mean something. 

And Jungkook needed to know.

This couldn’t just be casual. Not something they pretended meant nothing and never spoke about again. It couldn’t. He’d already crossed that line, had already put them in a vulnerable position. He couldn’t live with himself if Jungkook thought it meant nothing. 

“It would mean a lot to me, honestly,” Jimin mumbled.

Jungkook took in a breath, eyes racing over Jimin’s face, settling back on his sternum. 

A moment passed with no reply.

“I’m sorry, we really don’t have to,” Jimin repeated. Tried not to panic but failed, a little. “We don’t have to.”

“No, I’m-” Jungkook rushed to whisper, palm against Jimin’s heart. “You’re actually being serious?”

“Yeah,” Jimin exhaled. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” Jungkook breathed.

Jimin bit hard at the inside of his cheek. “I’m sorry if it’s weird that it’s- I don’t know. We’ve just- I haven’t- We’ve been apart for a while. I don’t know. I don’t know why I said it, honestly, but I do want it. I would want it. But it’s okay if you don’t- We really don’t have to.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook rasped, eyes so wide. “Fuck.”

Jimin held his eyes, emotions welled to the brim. The light danced on Jungkook’s skin.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered. “I’m-” He paused like he was sorting through his thoughts, finding the right way to say them. “It’s still weird living alone,” he finally whispered. Voice a fragile breath he hadn’t told anyone. “I get lonely.” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s fine, I’m not-” Jungkook paused, thumb twitching on Jimin’s chest. “It’s not a big deal. I just miss it, sometimes.”

“I know. Me, too.”

“We can see each other whenever we want, you know, it’s not a big deal,” he repeated. “But it’s not- I don’t know. It’s different.”

“I know.”

“I just miss you,” Jungkook whispered, so quietly. “I miss everyone. I’m not- Just- It’s been a while,” he rasped, closing his eyes. 

Jimin exhaled, feeling so guilty he could fucking scream. He’d been lonely, too, but he’d been so distracted, so focused. Too exhausted and sore to even think about much before he fell asleep. Memories of every time he’d promised Jungkook he’d come, every night he’d had to text his apology. The image of Jungkook sleeping alone. 

“Just- Showering sounds really fucking nice, hyung,” Jungkook interrupted his thoughts, looking at him. “I’d like that.”

“Yeah,” Jimin whispered, his voice nonexistent. “Fuck, Gguk-ah.”

Jungkook smiled, palm flat against his chest. 

“I miss you, too,” Jimin murmured, needing Jungkook to know it. “I feel the same way. I’m sorry for taking so long.”

“It’s okay, hyung.”

Jimin let himself look at him. The shape of his lips, cheeks soft, messy hair. The curve of his nose and his eyes on Jimin’s. Jimin moved a piece of Jungkook’s hair from his forehead, reds and blues washing over the room.

He’d asked for it, so he had to be brave. He had to move first, had to take the first step. Jungkook was waiting like he trusted him with everything, eyes searching for something unsaid. 

Taking off Jungkook’s shirt seemed safe.

Seemed easy.

Jimin’s shirt was already off. It made sense.

Except that he had never taken off Jungkook’s clothes. Not quietly and not in the darkness, palm twitching as it inched closer to Jungkook’s waist.

“Do you want to take off your shirt?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook nodded, sitting up before Jimin could even think, tugging his shirt over his head in one movement, and Jimin took in a breath.

Jungkook had always been beautiful.

Jimin’s best friend for almost half of his life, sincere and smart and kind. So funny he made Jimin’s stomach hurt, sweet in ways that made his chest ache. Always learning and laughing and trying his best, making his friends feel loved.

His body was perfect because it was his, torso twisting under the light, arm a mosaic of ink. Jungkook tossed his shirt away as Jimin sat up to face him, and suddenly it felt so, so fucking real.

“Can I take off my pants?” Jimin asked quietly. 

“Yeah,” Jungkook said in a breath, doe eyed and nodding. “Yeah.”

Jimin fumbled to unzip his jeans, shoving them down past his ass and off of his legs, letting them fall to the floor. Feeling bare in gray briefs and nothing else.

He looked up to find Jungkook staring, heart racing out of his skin.

“Is this still okay?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook nodded, fisting a handful of the blanket and letting go again.

“We can just cuddle or something instead, if you want to,” Jimin mumbled. “I’d like that, too.”

“No- Fuck,” Jungkook laughed a little, meeting his eyes before looking away again. “I want it, just- Yeah. It’s kind of sinking in now.”

“Same,” Jimin laughed, pushing fingertips against his own thighs. 

Jungkook’s eyes were soft, hands lifting to his own waistband.

Jimin couldn’t look away, couldn’t help it. Watched Jungkook tuck thumbs into his shorts to push them down, over his thighs, black boxer briefs visible as the fabric slid away. The curves of him, soft hair on his legs. 

Jimin realized he was rubbing his own thighs, needing to touch something. Breathing deeply and trying to be normal. They had never done this. Never even come close, no matter how much they’d done together. Years of cuddling to sleep, massaging tired muscles, playing with each other’s hands while they watched TV.

Still nothing so intimate. 

Jungkook watched his face until Jimin finally met his eyes, and he sucked in a breath under slow moving colors. 

“Are you still okay, too?” Jungkook asked quietly, and Jimin let the air out from his lungs.

“Yeah. Yeah.” Jimin laughed, digging nails into his thighs, wanting to scream. Jungkook was being as careful for him as he was for Jungkook, needing to make sure he was okay, too. Could probably see his meltdown all over his face. “Sorry.” Jimin smiled, needing to run around in circles, or something. “I’m kind of nervous.”

“So am I,” Jungkook huffed, holding onto his own ankle. “I’ve never showered with someone.”

“Really?” 

Jungkook shrugged.

“Me either,” Jimin mumbled.

“We’ll figure it out.” Jungkook grinned, and maybe he was trying to calm Jimin down, but he scooted a little closer, tugging on Jimin’s hand and squeezing his palm. “We should probably just go before we keep thinking about it.” 

“You’re right,” Jimin snorted. He leaned toward Jungkook’s cheek without thinking, pressing his nose there. Nervous and jittery and wanting the reassurance. Close enough to kiss his skin, letting his lips brush there before leaving him.

He heard the way Jungkook breathed in.

Felt him squeeze his hand like an instinct, looking at his face when Jimin pulled away.

Jungkook wasn’t smiling, anymore.

Jimin watched him swallow before leaning closer, seconds like slow hours as he pressed his lips to Jimin’s cheek. Kissing gently beside his mouth and holding it there, leaving him the slightest bit wet as he pulled away.

Jimin was going to explode. 

“We should go,” he rasped, and Jungkook nodded.

Jimin led them to Jungkook’s bathroom, familiar but brand new, and Jungkook closed the door behind them.

Fluorescent lights and hard counters, cool air and white walls. 

“Sorry if I’m gross,” Jimin blurted out, the sound echoing. “I was dancing earlier.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. You were already in my bed, hyung.”

“I know.” Jimin smiled, hugging around his own waist like it could stop him from feeling nervous. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind.” Jungkook brushed Jimin’s arm before turning away. “I’m- I’ll start the-” He stepped to the shower and turned on the tap, water rushing loud. 

The sound didn’t make it easier. Just so much more real, a chill racing down Jimin’s spine so fast he actually shivered. Clinging to his own hips and not sure what to do. Jungkook was turning around to face him in only his underwear, body reflected in the mirror, tall and pretty and trusting so much. 

“I’m honestly so nervous,” Jimin mumbled, although he didn’t know what he was nervous about. It was just Jungkook, and it would be okay. At absolute worst a little awkward. But there was something so real about standing together, the water rushing loud, knowing he was going to see him naked. That Jungkook would see him, too. That they’d agreed to wash each other, to touch each other, crossing a line he’d never, ever thought they’d cross. That he’d told himself they would never cross. “I want to keep going, I’m just-” he trailed off.  

“That’s okay,” Jungkook whispered, even though it wasn’t his fault. “Should I go first?”

“Fuck,” Jimin said without thinking, his heart beating so hard he couldn’t stop it. “Yeah- Yeah. Okay.”

“Okay.” Eyes on Jimin as Jungkook reached for his own underwear, and Jimin’s hands jumped out to hold his forearms.

“No- Wait,” Jimin breathed, letting his head fall into Jungkook’s chest and closing his eyes. He couldn’t do this. Couldn’t handle how much it all was, when only an hour ago he never could have imagined this. He could feel Jungkook’s breathing through his chest, palms around Jungkook’s arms.

“Can I go first? I’m sorry,” Jimin whispered.

“Yeah, hyung.”

“I want this, I’m just-”

“It’s okay.” 

Jimin let go of his arms, tried not to think, tucked fingers into his briefs and pushed them down. Moved as quickly as he could so he wouldn’t overthink it, felt fabric fall to his feet and stepped out of them. Cold feet on cold tile. His pulse in his ears and Jungkook’s eyes on him.

They had seen each other before. It was no big deal.

It wasn’t a big deal.

When he looked up Jungkook was staring, mouth parted and hands fidgeting, eyes on Jimin’s crotch, his stomach, his hands. 

“You- Yeah,” Jungkook stammered, nodding a little before looking at his chest. Jimin’s torso covered in paint, Jungkook’s boxer briefs the only fabric left. “I’m- I’ll go.”

Jungkook moved more slowly than Jimin, fidgeting with his waistband before peeling it from his skin. Maybe just nervous, maybe making sure it was still okay, and Jimin lifted hands to hold Jungkook’s waist. Didn’t know what else to do. Felt more comfortable when they were closer, wanting him to feel sure of himself. Jimin watched the fabric peel until it slipped away, soft and warm, down from his skin. 

Soft cock and soft balls, the lines of his stomach leading to his pelvis. Delicate hair and strong thighs. Jimin had seen him, so many times, but not like this. Not undressing just for him. Blood pounding in his ears, Jimin’s hands on Jungkook’s waist. It was happening so fast. 

“I’m-” Jimin said, because he had to say something, nodding to himself with his eyes on Jungkook’s stomach. “You look good, Gguk-ah.”

“Thanks,” Jungkook breathed, and Jimin could not fucking do this. 

The urge to bury himself in his chest was too strong, letting himself lean until his forehead dropped to Jungkook’s shoulder. Hands stuck on his waist, melding into him, feeling Jungkook’s hands come instantly to cradle his back. Holding Jimin upright as he calmed himself down, skin to warm skin, steam fogging the mirrors.

“I’m kind of freaking out,” Jimin mumbled, and Jungkook giggled.

“So am I, hyung.”

“It was my idea. I’m sorry.”

“It was a good idea,” Jungkook promised. “We don’t have to, though.”

“No- I want to,” Jimin huffed, shaking his head into his shoulder. “I’m just freaking out.”

Jungkook laughed, so familiar. Holding him close, just like he always had. 

“I’m also just really tired,” Jimin grumbled, feeling out of his mind and so overwhelmed. By Jungkook, by the day, by the last few months, by how much was still ahead. It felt too easy to be pressed to him, the sound of the shower like a lullaby.

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah,” Jimin nodded. “Just need a second.”

“Okay,” Jungkook murmured, always calming, always gentle. Stroking his back the same way he’d been touching him earlier, thumb brushing over his spine. Comforting him even though it was Jimin’s idea, taking care of him.

When Jimin pulled away he couldn’t meet Jungkook’s eyes, suddenly way too close, staring down at his chest. Clammy hands tucked in the curve of Jungkook’s waist.

He didn’t expect Jungkook to lean into him again, kissing right where his neck met his shoulder, goosebumps exploding down his arms.

“Fuck,” Jimin whispered as Jungkook pulled away. He pressed their foreheads together, closed his eyes and inhaled.

“You’re okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want to keep going?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook tucked fingers into his hand before stepping toward the shower, the back of him perfect, the world dark outside the window. Jungkook entered first and Jimin followed, heat rushing over his skin, not missing the way Jungkook moved aside to let Jimin stand under the water.

Jimin slid the glass door closed, and it was just them.

“Hi,” Jimin rasped.

“Hi.” Jungkook smiled, standing so fucking close, reaching up to feel the water behind Jimin’s head. “Is it too hot?”

“It’s good.” Jimin nodded, moving aside so the water could hit Jungkook’s stomach, too. Realized quickly that he had no fucking clue what to do, now. “I don’t- How do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know.” Jungkook grinned, looking just as embarrassed, just as out of his depth. 

“I can- I could go first? Or, I mean, I could wash you first?” Jimin stammered, not sure what to do with his hands. “We don’t actually have to wash each other if you don’t want to, though, like- We can just do it ourselves, if that’s-”

“I’m- I can wash you first,” Jungkook offered, and he was so, so close. “I can wash your paint off?”

“Oh, yeah.” Jimin nodded. 

That was okay. That was easy. 

Maybe he was panicking because he’d asked for this, so it was his fault if this was awkward. His fault if Jungkook felt uncomfortable. Embarrassing if he didn’t know how to be brave, or know the right thing to say. 

Jungkook found a bar of soap and lathered bubbles in his palms, holding Jimin’s eyes like a question as he raised it to his chest.

Jimin nodded, voice caught in his throat, flinching when the soap met his skin.

It was happening.

Jungkook was gliding soap over his skin.

Jungkook was massaging bubbles over his chest, watching his own hand as it moved.

Jimin looked at his face, and then his chest. 

They had never been so close while they were naked. So, so close. Hot water pouring down his back, rushing noise, Jungkook’s hand working in little circles. Massaging him, cleaning him as well as he could. It was Jungkook. Jungkook who he’d loved for more than a decade, Jungkook his best friend. Jungkook who always, always made him feel important, and cared for, and who wanted to do his best.

“It’s coming off,” Jungkook mumbled, eyes on the left side of Jimin’s chest, most of the paint there already washed away. Jungkook’s own torso was pink where it rose and fell, goosebumps on his arms, moving the soap to Jimin’s other side. Working gently, free hand coming to feel Jimin’s chest.

Jimin looked at him.

The way his lips pursed as he focused. The way his brow furrowed. Gliding the soap to Jimin’s shoulder, then the other. Taking his time, washing everywhere, using his palm to wash Jimin’s neck. Pressing hard enough that it wouldn’t tickle, gentle enough that it wouldn’t bother him. Soap gliding down to his rib cage, Jimin lifting hands to hold Jungkook’s waist.

He held him as Jungkook sucked in a breath, as he found the tape covering Jimin’s tattoo and peeled it away. Soothed over the goosebumps where the tape had been, set the tape aside before scrubbing him there. He caressed his tattoo with a palm before moving to the other side, feeling his ribs as Jimin breathed in. Both of their hair dripping, watching the curves of Jungkook’s cheeks, his nipples wet with water. All of them warm, hands sliding lower, lower to Jimin’s stomach. 

Jungkook glanced at his eyes quickly, like he needed to be sure, before scrubbing him there the same way he had been. Black paint swirling down the drain, soap and bubbles, sliding over Jimin’s stomach and into his belly button. Caressing his sides and his hips. 

Jimin didn’t even realize the paint was gone until Jungkook moved back up to his shoulder, gliding the soap down his arm. Massaging every inch of muscle, his bicep and forearm, holding onto each finger as he washed his hand. Jimin smiled as Jungkook started on the other side, doing exactly the same, touching Jimin like he wanted him to feel it. 

“Can you turn around?” Jungkook asked quietly, and Jimin turned without thinking. Realized Jungkook was seeing his ass for the first time that night, the moons down his back, the tattoos on his arms. Sliding soap down his shoulders, over his back, against the lines and curves of him. Hands feeling everywhere, slowly and carefully, his skin sensitive at the base of his back. 

Jungkook paused with fingers on Jimin’s waist, voice low beside his ear.

“Can I keep going?”

“Yes,” Jimin squeaked. “Yeah.”

Warm palms moving lower, lower.

Gliding until they hugged the curves of his ass.

Jimin sucked in a breath through a shiver, feeling the soap move in circles on his skin. Jungkook followed the bar with the palm of his hand, cleaning him, cradling him. Parting his cheeks as he held them. Water rushed against Jimin’s chest and his eyes closed, so intensely aware of how carefully Jungkook was touching him. Palms swirling circles toward the center of his ass, so slowly, letting the soap slide down, down between his cheeks. So warm and so sensitive, gliding down behind his balls and back up again. 

Jungkook’s fingers followed the soap when it left him, brushing Jimin’s hole with two fingers before pulling away. 

“Face me again?”

Jimin’s breath rattled in his chest.

He turned to find Jungkook even closer than he had been, nervous eyes focused as he scanned Jimin’s face. Like he was trying to see if he’d done well. “It’s still okay?” 

“Yeah,” Jimin rasped. Barely any sound, barely even breathing. 

Jungkook lowered himself to the ground before Jimin could process it, kneeling down beside his feet, and then Jimin realized.

Jungkook was kneeling to wash the rest of him, crouched above soapy water, looking up at Jimin’s face before back at his thigh. 

He moved gently to wash his leg, massaging him with the soap in his hand. Caressing him everywhere, tucking between his thighs, in the curves of his knee and over his calf. Covering him in soap, sore muscles, helping Jimin lift his foot to wash beneath it. Jungkook squeezed just above Jimin’s knee before starting on the other side, working from the top of his leg to the sole of his foot.

Jimin wanted to touch him. Wanted to tangle fingers through wet hair and push it back from his face, babble praises for doing well. Cradle his cheeks and brush his temples. Let him know he was loved.

When Jungkook finished he looked up at Jimin’s face, round eyes and the shine of metal in his lip.

“Hyung?” he checked quietly. 

It took a moment, and then Jimin realized what he was asking for. 

“Yeah, Gguk-ah.” 

Jungkook moved slowly. So slowly. Pressed the soap to Jimin’s stomach and held his eyes, and slid it down, down. Gave him time to pull away. Down through the hair above his cock, slowly, then back and forth, back and forth. Scrubbing his pelvis, working him gently, sliding down to the base of him. He pulled away completely before tucking the bar in between Jimin’s legs, between the curves of his ass, gliding toward himself and pulling away again. He worked the soap in both palms, getting them sudsy, glancing at Jimin’s face before cupping his balls in one palm.

Jimin made a sound.

Some whimpery, pathetic breath, but Jungkook heard it. Warm palm echoing through his entire body, aching, the water on his back as loud as the blood in his ears. Jungkook palmed his balls until he was sure they were clean, touching so carefully, trusting and bubbles and warmth. 

Jimin watched him massage the soap again, stomach lurching when his palm returned a few centimeters from Jimin’s cock.

Eyes flitting up to his face for permission, and Jimin nodded.

Watched Jungkook circle him in a palm.

Explosions blasting like sirens in Jimin’s ears because what the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Jungkook was holding his cock, fucking holding his cock, cradling and touching and feeling him. Tattooed fingers gliding bubbles over his skin, sliding from the base to the head, pressing his thumb to his slit before moving up again. Too much like sex, too fucking much, every touch like he’d been electrocuted over and over and over again. Fucking Jungkook touching him like that, touching like he cared, so overwhelming that Jimin actually had to focus not to buckle in half. He winced when Jungkook pulled away, soaping his hand again, palm returning to circle him. Eyes on his cock, sweet pressure, still soft enough for Jungkook to hold most of him at once. Jimin watched him set the soap on the ground, gasping when Jungkook lifted his other palm to hold his balls, feeling all of him at once. 

Jimin was going to die. 

Deep breaths and trying not to scream, because Jungkook didn’t need to do that. 

Fucking did not need to do that.

They were friends.

Only friends.

Always friends.

They hadn’t defined this at all before starting, he’d had zero fucking clue what showering together had even meant. He hadn’t thought about it at all when he’d asked him, just wanted to be close, wanted to be with him.

This was ten thousand lightyears beyond that, Jungkook squeezing Jimin’s thigh before he grabbed the soap and stood back up.

Jimin realized he’d been breathing with his mouth open, panting, having to look up to see him again. The water rushing loud but so quietly, eyes racing over the look on Jungkook’s face. 

“I’m-” Jimin whispered, brain scrambling for something to say. Anything. Realized that Jungkook’s cock was even harder than Jimin’s, and that was so, so much worse.

“Sorry-” Jimin started again, shaking his head and trying to breathe. “Sorry, I should-” He realized in small pulses that Jungkook was waiting to be washed, too. “I can-”

“No, it’s- Do you want your hair washed?” Jungkook asked quietly.

Jimin inhaled, the hair lifting on his arms.

His mind stuttered and started again, trying to comprehend it, knowing he should wash the sweat from his hair. “Yeah.”

Jungkook didn’t hesitate, leaned past Jimin to find the shampoo on the shelf behind him, and Jimin recognized the smell the second he popped the lid. It was the way Jungkook smelled, nights of falling asleep tucked under his sheets, Jungkook hugging him in the practice room. Eyes half-lidded as Jungkook lathered shampoo in his hands. 

Jimin turned to face the water before Jungkook had to ask, if only just to close his eyes and breathe, warm water soaking his chest as both of Jungkook’s hands threaded in his hair. Scratching at his scalp, massaging him, taking care of him. Washing his hair, lifting goosebumps, careful to avoid his eyes. 

Calm quiet and trusting so much. 

When Jungkook’s hands left him Jimin leaned forward to rinse the shampoo away, mind wandering to Jungkook’s eyes on his back, his ass. Wondering what he was thinking. Petting through his own hair until he was sure the shampoo was gone, not expecting Jungkook to hold his waist in one hand as he leaned past him to find the conditioner.

Jimin’s whole body was strung thin like a live wire, flinching at the pop of the lid, the way Jungkook’s thigh brushed Jimin’s hip as he settled back into place.

Jimin couldn’t focus on anything. 

Cock hard and mind a blur.

Strong hands threading back into his hair, tingling scalp, chills down his spine. Needing to whimper but not letting himself, knowing it would make it too real, Jungkook’s hand on the back of his neck when he’d finished with the conditioner.

Fingers pet down from his neck to his lower back, back up again. Squeezed Jimin’s shoulders before stroking his spine, palms working into his skin, massaging him.

Jungkook did not need to be touching him.

Didn’t even have soap on his hands. Had no reason to touch him. 

He was feeling Jimin because he wanted to, making him feel good, palm cradling Jimin’s waist as the other moved over his neck, sliding into his hair, feeling Jimin shudder.

“You can rinse now, hyung.”

Jimin’s breath shook as he inhaled, air pressing like a weighted blanket to his skin. Steam heavy as Jimin rinsed out his hair, eyes shut, balling hands in little fists as he turned back around. 

Jungkook was staring with hazy eyes, cock just as hard as Jimin’s.

“Thanks,” Jimin whispered, and Jungkook nodded, fidgeting with the ring in his lip. “Should we switch?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook breathed.

They both shuffled until they had switched places, and Jimin realized quickly how cold it was outside of the water. Didn’t even mind, wanted Jungkook to be warm. 

There was something unsaid in the quiet, Jimin’s hands trembling as he reached for the soap, the bar still warm from Jungkook holding it. He lathered it in shaking palms, avoiding Jungkook’s eyes, feeling him watching his face, his mouth.

When Jimin met Jungkook’s eyes, he actually laughed.

So jittery and delirious he couldn’t even stop it, too much in his head to process, too many years with him. Out of his mind and heart pounding as Jungkook grinned back at him, chuckling breathy as he closed his eyes and shook his head. Perfect smile, safe like home.

They were in this together, just like they always were.

Words unspoken that neither knew how to say, feeling the same feelings. Neither one prepared for this. Nerves fluttering away through shaky giggles, an energy swirling that they were both so aware of.

This had never just been about washing each other.

Not for either of them. 

All Jimin fucking wanted was to touch Jungkook. To be touched.

To be close to someone. To be with him.

Jimin shook out his arms and took in a breath, standing on tiptoe to press his forehead to Jungkook’s cheek. Just for a moment, just to center himself, reassuring each other before pulling away. 

“I’m going to-” Jimin asked, lifting the soap to Jungkook’s chest the same way he’d done for him, and Jungkook nodded, eyes shining.

Jimin pressed the soap to Jungkook’s chest without thinking much, moving like he was in a trance. Washing more carefully than he would ever clean himself, coating his chest, his collar bones, his shoulders, his ribs. Mirroring what Jungkook had done for him. Careful on his skin, gentle on his nipples, following the soap with his free hand like Jungkook had done. Working palms on his skin, feeling his muscles, so fucking aware of Jungkook’s eyes on him. Bodies warm and chests rising, gliding easily, spreading the soap down to Jungkook’s stomach. Scrubbing his waist and his hips, touching him like he never had, sliding back up to his chest.

Eyes flitting to Jungkook’s before starting on his arm, realizing Jungkook had been looking at his face.

It was so different, like this. Being the one touching Jungkook. Petting down the tattoos on his bicep, soft skin, Jungkook leaning into the touch as Jimin washed under his arm. Working the soap on his wrist, on his hand, letting their hands tangle together.

Jungkook squeezed his palm before Jimin moved to the other arm, washing it the same way, soap over strong muscles and warm skin. Taking care of him. Trying his best not to tickle, spending time on sensitive spots, aware that he was hard and right there, right there, right there.

Close enough to brush against each other, if he moved just a little. 

“Can you turn around?” Jimin asked gently.  

Jungkook turned without hesitating, and Jimin inhaled. His back was soaking wet, droplets forming from his shoulders to his ass, and Jimin stared at his own cock only inches from him. It was easier like this. Watching the bubbles slide over his skin, no eyes on him. Tracing his lines and feeling him. Washing over his shoulder blades, down his spine, over his muscles. Feeling his lower back, the dips of his waist, the swell of his ass. 

Jimin cherished it, for a moment.

Then he moved lower, lower. 

Caressed his ass minutes after Jungkook had held his cock, had helped him feel good. Touched him in ways he’d never, ever thought he could.

Jimin soothed soap over the curves of him, soft and giving, kneading into his muscle and washing him there. Cradled one cheek and then the other, strong palms, dipping down underneath to hold him. Gliding soap into the center of his cheeks, then down, down, sliding the bar between them. Hearing Jungkook’s breathing even over the sound of the water, pulling away again. 

Jimin wanted to put the soap away and hold him. Just caress him properly, make him feel good. He kept moving instead, leaning forward until his forehead found the base of Jungkook’s neck, relaxing there. Anchoring himself right between his shoulder blades as they breathed together, as Jimin palmed one of his cheeks before dipping the soap into his crack again. 

This time he moved lower, lower. Pressed until he he found his hole, only sure of it by the way Jungkook exhaled.

Jimin pulled away, and did it again. Knew it felt cool and then warm again.

He pulled away completely before resting the soap on his cheek, and realized all at once that it would be easier like this.

Easier to wash his front, this way.

Jimin exhaled, forehead pressed against his spine, cradling his cheeks in both hands. He squeezed him before sliding around to the front of his thighs. 

Palms gliding from his thighs to his hips, to the center of his stomach, hugging him from behind.

Still pressed to him, breathing together.

Jimin couldn’t let it sink in what was happening.

Couldn’t even think as he let his hands slide down past Jungkook’s belly button, down to his pelvis.

He brushed through the hair there, circling Jungkook’s cock as if he was circling himself.

Jungkook whimpered.

Jimin was holding his cock, fucking holding his cock with his forehead pressed to his skin, soap against his hip, wanting to cry. 

He let himself move, stroking down to the tip, back up again. He pulled away completely, felt him relax in his arms, and Jimin rubbed the soap in both hands. Worked bubbles into his palms, circled him again, stroked from base to tip. This time even slower, feeling him gently, so gently. Jungkook was almost the same width as Jimin, a little longer, hard and heavy and beautiful. 

Jimin brushed fingers over his tip before pulling away, felt him exhale. Slid down to cradle his balls.

It was too much like sex.

Too fucking much like jerking off his best friend, massaging him steady, and Jimin had no idea what he was doing. They were band mates, and friends, and this was never supposed to happen. Could never happen. He could never be stroking Jungkook’s cock, standing naked in his shower, moments after Jungkook had done the same for him.

Soft balls in his palm, so soft, palming him more carefully than he’d even touch himself. Feeling the weight of him before circling his cock again, exhaling against Jungkook’s back. Jungkook deserved to feel good. Deserved to feel wanted, and loved, and to be touched like this. Deserved to be wet and warm.  

Jimin inhaled and pulled away, palming the soap in both hands as he looked at him. This wasn’t like that. It couldn’t be like that. If they were ever going to cross that line they would have crossed it ages ago, not more than ten years into their career and on a complete whim. They couldn’t go there if it meant risking all they had.

Except Jimin didn’t really fucking care.

He wanted it. 

Wanted to feel good, to help Jungkook feel good. Wanted to shower him in love and be loved. To promise how beautiful he was, always beautiful, wanted to touch him. 

Jimin dropped to his knees and started washing his foot, lifted it to soap underneath. Soaked over his ankle, his calf, his knee, his thigh. Started on the other side and stayed careful with it, from his foot to his thigh, soaking over his ass.

Jimin wanted to touch him. Actually touch him. Touch him like he’d always wished he could, like he’d told himself a thousand times he couldn’t. Wanted to cross that line and not care what happened. They would work through it together, he was sure of it, whether they felt good once or more times.

Jimin had never slept with someone he’d known as long as Jungkook.

He’d never had a connection that deep, that solid, never trusted someone so much. Had never been so sure that it would work out, despite risking everything, knowing they would be okay.

Jimin wondered how long it had been for Jungkook. 

When the last time was that he’d been with someone. Whether he was thinking about it, too. 

“Do you want your hair washed, Gguk-ah?”

“Um-” Jungkook breathed, pausing like he’d barely heard the words. “Yeah, sure.”

Jimin reached around his leg for the shampoo. Rushing water in his ears, touching Jungkook’s hip as he stood back up. 

They had cuddled so many times. Spooned when they’d felt like it, kissed each other’s cheeks and foreheads, fallen asleep together. Picked each other up and laughed together, had held each other while they’d cried. Jimin knew him.

Knew him well enough to know what he liked.

Knew that if Jimin asked, Jungkook might say yes.

He’d just never, ever, ever thought it would actually happen.

They’d lived together so long it was like a routine, familiar friendship, nothing anywhere close to this. It was so hard to imagine anything changing, no idea how to get to that point, too terrified of making him uncomfortable. 

Jimin pushed foamy hands into Jungkook’s hair, palms on his scalp. Tangled through his hair and felt him shiver, worked shampoo through his curls.

When he finished he pet down the back of his neck, squeezing his shoulders. 

“Rinse, Gguk-ah.”

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, and it hit Jimin like a jab to the chest. He watched Jungkook wash the bubbles from his hair, tattoos twisting and muscles wet.

Jimin found the conditioner before Jungkook had even finished, lathering it in his palms and replacing Jungkook’s, stroking through his hair the same way.

Lifting his arms to reach his scalp, steady, steady palms. 

When he was finished Jimin kissed between Jungkook’s shoulder blades, let his hands glide over the water on his waist. 

It had been a while for Jimin. Long enough that he missed it. Missed feeling close to someone, feeling good together. Missed being the one to make someone feel good.

Jungkook let the conditioner sit for a while before leaning back into the water, washing it away, water sliding down his back, his ass. 

When he turned back around, Jimin’s chest physically ached. 

“Hyung?” Jungkook whispered before Jimin could find words. Hair wet around his face, body blushed pink. 

“Yeah?”

“Can I wash your face?”

“Oh-” Jimin breathed. Jungkook sounded like he’d been waiting to ask, like he’d been hoping for it. “Yeah.”

Jungkook nodded to himself, and Jimin watched him slide the shower door open to grab a bottle from his counter, the sound of the water echoing through the room. Watched him return with wide eyes. 

“Sorry that it’s not the one you use, if you don’t want me to-”

“Oh, it’s fine,” Jimin exhaled, eyes racing over his face. “Whatever is fine. I didn’t bring anything.”

Jungkook poured cleanser into his hand, set it down next to his shampoo. Stood close enough that the water could hit both of their waists. “Sorry if- We’re just already in the shower so I figured-”

“No, it’s okay.”

Jungkook took in a breath and looked at him. Lifted fingers to spread product on his forehead, his cheeks, his nose, his chin. Worked it into him with focused eyes, Jimin’s eyelids and temples and cheeks. Washing his makeup away. Staring at him as he moved, tracing the lines of his face. 

Somehow more intimate than anything else they’d done. 

Jimin opened his eyes to watch him brushing thumbs over the apples of his cheeks, the lines of his jaw. Looking at Jimin’s face like he was seeing him. Eyes meeting Jimin’s, nervous and kind.

“You can rinse,” Jungkook mumbled. 

Jimin leaned into the water to rinse his face, finally entirely clean. 

“Hyung-” Jungkook started as soon as he’d finished, fingertips pressing into his own stomach. “Are you-” He shook his head and stopped to breathe. “This isn’t- Fuck.”

Jimin held his breath.

“I don’t really know what- Fuck,” Jungkook tried again, pressing palms into his own thighs. “Hyung.”

“Jungkook-ah,” Jimin whispered.

“This wasn’t-” He shook his head. “I want- Fuck, hyung.”

Jimin reached out to hold his forearms.

“I can’t really think straight,” Jungkook whispered.

“Me, either.” 

“I don’t know if we- Hyung,” Jungkook whined, closing his eyes and taking a breath, speaking in a voice so low that Jimin almost didn’t hear it. “I don’t know what’s okay. Like- What’s okay for me to- I want- things.”

“Yeah,” Jimin whispered, so quietly. Thumbs brushing his forearms, and Jungkook’s hands lifted to hold his hips. “So do I.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whispered, scanning his face like a book he’d been reading for half his life. “I don’t know how to- Fuck.” Gentle hands on Jimin’s hips, eyes on Jimin’s heart.

“I know,” Jimin whispered. “I want this.” 

“Hyung,” Jungkook repeated. 

“I want-” Jimin whispered, taking in the lines of his face. “Can we have- Fuck.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook breathed, squeezing Jimin’s hips and closing his eyes. “Hyung.”

“We can-” Jimin started, shaking his head. “This doesn’t have to be- I’m- Fuck. I want it.”

Jungkook’s eyes raced over his face, his eyes, his cheeks, his lips. Water sliding down his chest.

“I want it,” Jimin repeated.

Jimin watched one hundred thoughts cross Jungkook’s mind before his mouth parted.

Then he turned immediately to turn the shower off.

Immediate, overwhelming silence, bodies damp in the cold air. 

Jungkook slid the glass open and let Jimin step onto the bath mat, stepping out after him, and Jimin was going to scream. Every ounce of sleepiness gone for pure fucking adrenaline, wet feet on soft fabric, Jungkook wrapping a soft towel around Jimin’s shoulders before finding another for himself. Jimin patted the water from his skin like he was moving in slow motion, deathly silent, every inch of his body focused on Jungkook drying himself off. Over his shoulders, under his arms, down his legs, meeting Jimin’s eyes before burying his hair in the towel.

Jimin didn’t know what was happening. Didn’t know what he wanted.

Only knew that he wanted it with him. 

He’d imagined it before, so many times. Had imagined it with all of their members. Quiet nights after practicing, after hours of holding them, but it could never happen. Would never happen. He would never be drying himself off in Jungkook’s bathroom after Jungkook had touched him. Would never be toweling his hair as Jungkook watched him through the fog on the mirror, heart beating like a drum in his chest.

Both of them hanging hard with warm skin.

“Here,” Jungkook whispered, throwing his towel over the rack before taking Jimin’s and doing the same.

“Do you-” Jimin started.

“Should we go back to my room?”

“Yeah.” Jimin nodded. “Yeah.”

Jimin let his hand find Jungkook’s, laced their fingers as they shut off the light, leaving the bathroom for sheer darkness again. The aurora still glowed on Jungkook’s walls, swirling colors, and Jimin let go of his hand to crawl into bed. Heard Jungkook close the door behind them. Knew that Jungkook could see his ass as he crawled, could see the moons on his back.

When he turned back around Jungkook was staring.

Beautiful and naked under blue and green lights, looking like he needed Jimin to lead. To tell him what he wanted, to decide what was okay. 

Jimin reached out to take his hand, tugged him until he climbed into bed, helped him settle down facing him.

Damp hair and blushed skin. 

“Hyung?” Jungkook stared at the center of Jimin’s chest, fingers working at a spot on his own thigh. “I want- Do you really want this?”

“So badly,” Jimin whispered.

Jungkook inhaled and stared at him, voice a fragile breath. “What do you want?”

“Anything,” Jimin admitted, watching Jungkook’s face under swirling lights. “Anything.”

“I’m not going to last,” Jungkook whispered.

“Me, either.”

“I’ve always wanted this.”

“What?”

Jungkook smiled. “Since we were trainees, hyung.”

Jimin’s heart stopped and then started again. Words echoing before coming into focus.

“Not, like-” Jungkook let go of a breath. “Nothing serious. Just- I’ve pictured it so many times.”

“Really?”

“Too many times,” Jungkook laughed, scratching his thigh over and over again. Still as hard as he could ever be. “I want to last.”

“Gguk,” Jimin whispered, thoughts so scrambled he could barely speak. “Fuck.”

Jungkook smiled like an apology.

“I fucking want this,” Jimin panted. “I’ve always fucking wanted this. I never thought it could- I never thought to ask for it. I thought it couldn’t happen.”

“I know.”

“I want to suck your dick,” Jimin blurted out.

“Jesus,” Jungkook squeaked, eyes gone wide and thigh red from rubbing it. “I’m not going to last.”

“We’ll have time,” Jimin whispered. “We have so much time.”

Jungkook nodded, eyes not leaving him.

“It’s okay if you don’t last. I want you to come.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whimpered, voice breaking as he closed his eyes and opened them again.

Strangled silence as Jimin looked at his face, his chest, balling up the sheet beside him and wanting to scream.

“Hyung?” Jungkook asked again.

“Hm?”

“Can we kiss?” 

Jimin’s breath stuck quick in his throat like he’d been pushed off a cliff.

Heart stopping and then starting again.

“Yeah. Yes,” Jimin squeaked. “Yes. Please.” 

The air fell deathly silent as Jungkook’s eyes moved to Jimin’s mouth, soft sheets around them like an ocean.

Nothing fast, or desperate, or needing.

So slow that Jimin could feel his own heart beating, the mattress dipping as Jungkook moved closer. Close enough to run cool fingers over Jimin’s cheek, to thread into the hair behind his ear.

Eyes glued to Jimin’s, then his nose, then his mouth, letting their noses brush together.

Freezing like he was waiting for Jimin take the final step, and Jimin tilted his mouth up to kiss him.

Heat whipped through his limbs like a match caught with flame, heart pounding, lips against metal as their mouths moved together. Kissing Jungkook. Kissing his best friend. Ten years of friendship pouring out like a waterfall, hands pressed to Jungkook’s cheeks before his jaw. He had never done this. Never kissed someone for the first time while they were already naked, never kissed someone he knew so well he could paint the freckles on his skin. 

Jungkook moved like he’d been holding himself back, lips becoming frantic, hands on Jimin’s back to tug him closer. They’d been friends since they were kids. Friends through highs he could have never imagined, seeing the world, celebrating big and little things. Friends through quiet nights and rainy days, through tears and heartache. Jimin knew how it felt to hold him, to fall asleep against his chest, to eat breakfast in cities they’d always hoped to visit. He knew how it felt to lick into his mouth as he kissed him, how Jungkook whimpered when Jimin traced hands down his back, knew the feeling of his chest wet with water. The give of his ass, the shapes of his curves, knew how his palm felt wrapped around him.

Jimin wanted to fucking eat him alive, wanted to bury him in his mouth until he cried. 

Jimin pulled away panting only for Jungkook to lean in and kiss him again, pecking his lips before kissing his cheeks, his nose, his temple. Eyes closed as he kissed down his neck, suckled him there, hand pressed to Jimin’s waist as the other found his palm. Fingers threading as Jimin squeezed him, as he spoke against Jungkook’s hair.

“Lean against the headboard, baby.”

Jungkook made a sound like he’d been strangled, sitting up so quickly to back himself against the wall. He tucked a pillow behind his back with wide eyes, staring as Jimin laid on his stomach between his legs. Loving him with all of the warmth in his chest. Jungkook’s hair was still damp, falling messy around his face, staring open-mouthed at Jimin pressing kisses to his thigh.

It would be so easy to think too much. To wonder if things would turn out okay, to tell himself it couldn’t be this easy, to hold himself back. But he felt so safe, so loved, more comfortable than he’d ever felt with anyone.

“If you need anything, let me know,” Jimin whispered.

Jungkook nodded, looking like it was taking everything in his body not to implode.

“Want you so badly.” Jimin kissed higher on his thigh. “So fucking badly, Gguk.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook whimpered.

Jimin tucked both hands under Jungkook’s legs to wrap around his thighs, soft hair and strong legs, mouth so close to Jungkook that he could feel Jimin’s breath on his skin. Cock hard and just beside his mouth, a decade leading to this. 

Jimin met his eyes, saw the look on his face. Kissed just beside the base of him, and let his tongue touch his skin.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jungkook hissed, hands jumping to push Jimin’s damp hair from his face. He watched Jimin pull away to kiss his skin where he’d licked it, kissing in a line over and over again. Kissing down the length of him, as far as he could go.

Jimin wanted him to feel good. Needed him to feel good. Squeezed his thighs before propping himself higher, his own cock dry against sheets, leaned in to lick from the base of his balls all the way to the tip. Pulled away completely to watch him bounce against air, heard him whimper, one hand leaving his hair to hold his cheek.

Jimin smiled as he kissed the head, pre-come on his lips, opened his mouth and buried him as deep as possible.

“Hyung,” Jungkook grunted, brow furrowed and eyes shut, letting Jimin slide back up and back down, groaning with it. Tongue pressed wet to him, taking him all the way down before sucking in. He’d imagined it so many times, in so many ways. Never thought it would happen at all, let alone like this, colors swirling in the darkness. 

He closed his eyes, and let himself melt.

Jungkook tasted the same way he smelled, clean and fresh and him, sounded like the butterflies racing through his chest and touched him like he always had. So warm as Jimin pulled up and pushed down, whimpering, sucking in whenever he pulled up. Hand tucked to his balls and hearing the way his breathing stuttered, hands on Jimin’s cheeks, moving down his back, over the moons and back up again. Jimin knew how he must look, ass bare under lights and hair still wet, mouth wrapped around him and his eyes closed. His whole world focused on him. 

Jimin pulled off completely and kissed under the head, opened his eyes to see him, moved his hand from his balls to his shaft and stroked up and down. Watched the skin move up and back down again, jerking him like he would stroke himself.

“I’m so happy,” Jimin whispered.

“Hyung.”

Jimin lapped at his base before kissing the head again, giving him a break. Knew he wanted to last. Stroked him slower and slower until he was only holding him, warm and heavy, kissing him again and again. 

“I want to touch you,” Jungkook rasped, thumbs gentle on Jimin’s temples. “Fuck, hyung.”

“Trade places?”

“Yeah.” Jungkook squirmed, scooting as quickly as he could until he was lying down facing him. It took Jimin a second to push up onto his knees to crawl up to the headboard, not expecting Jungkook’s palm to cup his ass. 

“Wait, hyung,” Jungkook whispered, squeezing the meat of his ass before holding onto his waist. “Lie down again?”

“Oh my back?”

“On your stomach,” Jungkook asked, gears turning visibly in his head, giving Jimin space to get himself back down toward where he was. Jimin tugged a pillow until it was under his cheek, holding onto it as he felt Jungkook’s lips in the center of his back, and then it clicked.

“Oh,” Jimin exhaled, staring at the colors changing on the wall until his eyes fell shut. Kisses down his spine, palms soothing down either side of him. Jungkook’s weight dipped the bed as he moved, kissing each moon before the next. A hand glided over his shoulder and back down again, raising goosebumps on his ribs, down to the dip of his lower back. Cradling his ass in one palm as he kissed him, squeezing him there, then the other cheek. The metal in his lip warmer than it had been, warm from Jimin’s skin, crawling down the bed until he was slotting himself in between Jimin’s legs.

Jimin felt him kiss his waist, both hands holding his ass.

“Can I finger you?”

“God,” Jimin hissed. Stomach racing with butterflies like a river flowing. It had been a while since he’d been with someone, but even longer since he’d felt like that. So fucking intense. So fucking intimate. “Yes.” 

“I’m-” Jungkook pulled away and his weight left the bed, Jimin opening his eyes to Jungkook tugging open a drawer on his side table, fishing for a bottle of lube. Even at this angle Jimin could see the condoms in his drawer, feeling his stomach flip in a somersault before shutting his eyes again.

This wasn’t like that. Not this time. Neither of them would last, no matter how hard they tried. 

“Is this okay?” Jungkook whispered, and Jimin opened his eyes again.

“Yeah. Yes,” Jimin muttered, recognizing the brand, mind swirling with images he didn’t want to think about. They couldn’t. They couldn’t.

Jungkook crawled back into bed, body warm where he settled between Jimin’s legs, lowering himself until Jimin felt his breath on his skin. 

Kisses to his left cheek as Jungkook squeezed the other one, air on Jimin’s hole as his cheeks parted. He let himself drift as Jungkook massaged his muscle and kissed him over and over again, cherishing him, kitten licks on his skin before he sucked him there. 

Goosebumps flooding, mind spinning. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe.

When Jungkook pulled away to press his tongue to Jimin’s hole Jimin jerked, not expecting it at all. So fucking wet, so fucking warm, reminding himself he was clean, that they’d literally just cleaned each other. That Jungkook had cleaned him. Tongue gliding over his rim and down to his balls, back up again, and Jimin didn’t realize he was whimpering until he heard the pop of a lid. 

“It’s kind of cold, I’m sorry,” Jungkook mumbled, voice so close to Jimin’s hole that he fucking shuddered. 

“It’s fine,” Jimin rasped, sure he didn’t even sound like himself. Mind twirling and twirling and shivering when he felt a wet finger press to his rim, liquid warmer than he expected, exhaling slow as he traced him in a circle, up and down. 

Jimin’s entire body was focused on that spot. On his cock pressed hard to Jungkook’s mattress. Soft sheets and the smell of him, sensitive everywhere, feeling Jungkook’s finger press gently, so gently inside. 

Jimin whimpered. 

It felt as weird as ever, but Jimin didn’t even care, trying his best to relax to let him slide further, further. He trusted Junkgook with everything. Trusted him to give whatever he needed, to go as slowly as he could. 

It took a stupid amount of effort to not to rock himself into the bed, to feel pressure where he needed it, but he knew he would’ve lasted five minutes if Jungkook had touched him there instead. He took deep breaths as Jungkook settled in as far as he could go, twisting a little, then slid out again. Pushed in, pulled back out. 

“Is this okay?” Jungkook checked.

“Yeah,” Jimin said in an exhale, a chill down his spine. Felt another fingertip press to his rim as he pulled out. He pressed both inside, sliding deeper than Jimin could ever reach.

Jimin couldn’t believe they were doing this. 

Jungkook was knuckles-deep inside of him, sliding out and in again, as careful for him as he ever was.

“Can you flip over, hyung?”

Jimin heard himself squeak, felt Jungkook pull out gently to let him turn over, eyes met with a ceiling of reds and blues.

Jungkook looked like he was flying. Eyes heavy and focused on him, propped on his elbows as he kissed each of Jimin’s inner thighs, everything sensitive, Jimin adjusting the pillow behind his head.

This was the closest Jungkook’s face had ever been to his crotch. 

Breath a steady warmth as Jimin’s chest ached, kissing over and over his skin, and Jimin hadn’t thought they would make it this long. Thought they would have come mere minutes after they started, barely touching each other, not able to live inside a moment like this. So horny he could fucking cry but not looking anywhere besides Jungkook’s eyes, his lips on him, his hand searching for the bottle beside them.

Jimin watched him pour lube onto his fingers, mouth on the highest point of his thigh, letting his eyes fall shut as Jungkook slid two fingers inside of him. Mouth moving to Jimin’s balls before lapping them into his mouth.

“Jesus Christ,” Jimin hissed with eyes opening, closing them immediately and letting his back arch. Filled and feeling him, Jungkook’s tongue, Jimin’s cock against air. Knowing Jungkook was pressed solid to the mattress, knowing he was just as far gone. Lapping from one of Jimin’s balls to the other, pulling fingers out and pushing in steady, so, so, so fucking much.

In a distant thought far away Jimin realized Jungkook must have listened when Jimin had whimpered in the shower, when Jungkook had held his balls. Maybe that was why he’d held him in both hands, why he was watching him as he sucked them into his mouth, curling fingers to find his spot.

“Oh, holy shit,” Jimin yelped, barely even coherent, Jungkook’s fingers rubbing like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“There?”

“Yeah.”

Jungkook raised himself up to kiss the base of his cock as Jimin fumbled to hold something, scrambled to Jungkook’s hair, eyes squeezing shut as Jungkook licked at the base of him. The smallest kisses, the flat of his tongue, pressing there and gliding up.

“Fuuuuuck,” Jimin whined. Licking, licking, up and down, wet heat. Fingers on his spot, pressing over and over, massaging him with his tongue pressed to his tip. Suckling, sliding back down. Back up, gentle kisses, and Jimin realized Jungkook was trying to take him fully into his mouth.

Jimin opened his eyes and could have passed out, the sight of Jungkook licking him, fingers inside of him. 

Jimin pressed fingers to the base of his own cock to tilt it towards him, not even wanting to risk circling himself, goosebumps flooding as he watched the tip slide past Jungkook’s lips.

“Holy fuck.”

Flying above the clouds, stomach in knots, skin tingling like wildfire. He’d needed to come for so long he could fucking sob, it felt so good, too good, Jungkook’s mouth as far as it could go. Holding it there, warming him, fingers never stopping.

Jimin remembered that Jungkook had thought about it before. Had wanted it, had maybe imagined this. Had probably wished for it in the same moments Jimin had. In the dark as they’d held each other, while they were laughing after shows. 

Jimin wanted it badly.

So fucking badly.

Wanted whatever he could get.

“Jungkook,” Jimin rasped.

Jungkook hummed.

“I want you to fuck me.”

Jungkook’s eyes blew wide as his fingers twitched inside of him. 

“I don’t care if we last two seconds. I really don’t,” Jimin laughed, hands reaching out to find Jungkook’s. “I want you to fuck me.” 

Jungkook pulled away, lips shining wet, and Jimin’s hands scrambled to hold Jungkook’s cheeks.

“Fuck me,” Jimin begged.

“Hyung.”

“Fuck me.”

Jungkook looked dazed before he was scrambling to find a condom, cock visible again, and Jimin saw how fucking hard he was. It was going to be the quickest he’d ever lasted, but he didn’t even care, he fucking needed him, watched Jungkook rushing so fast that he dropped the condoms onto the bed.

Jimin ripped one open as Jungkook crawled back to him, knelt between his legs, and Jimin rolled it onto Jungkook as gently as he could.

He didn’t expect Jungkook to lean in and kiss his mouth as soon as Jimin had finished, gasping as their lips slotted together. Open-mouthed and desperate, intense and needing, loving him. Kissing him with everything he had to give, years of wanting, and Jimin heard himself growl.

“Fuck,” Jimin whined, searching frantically for the lube while Jungkook lined himself up, squeezing it onto him as soon as he found it. 

He only knew that he’d missed when Jungkook laughed, light like the breeze, and Jimin grinned with him as Jungkook helped him pour it onto his cock instead. 

Jungkook spread it over himself with a tattooed hand, sliding slick, and his eyes were gentle.

“Are you stretched enough?”

“I don’t know,” Jimin answered honestly, so delirious he didn’t even care. “It’s okay.”

Jungkook frowned, and all Jimin could think about was his hand wrapped around himself. “I want it to be good for you, hyung.”

“I know,” Jimin murmured, hands coming up to find Jungkook’s arms. “I know, bun. It will be. I’ll tell you if it hurts.”

“Okay,” Jungkook whispered, eyeing him like he was making sure, two fingers finding his rim and massaging him there. He slid them in gently, testing him, eyes on Jimin’s face as he moved.

A third finger pressed in with the others, and Jimin shivered.

“Okay?” Jungkook checked.

“Yeah.” Jimin melted like chocolate, chest aching as Jungkook stroked himself once before guiding it to him. Jimin’s legs were wrapped around him, so entirely safe there, feeling him press against his rim as it rippled down his arms.

Trying to keep breathing as Jungkook pressed in slowly, slowly, slowly.

It was a wider stretch than he’d expected, but it felt so fucking good. Jungkook pressing him open, sliding into him, Jungkook leaning down after he was inside him fully, balls to Jimin’s ass. Lips to Jimin’s shoulder before finding Jimin’s mouth, kissing him, lips moving molten.

Buried deep inside of him.

His best friend. His happiest place.

Jungkook slid himself out to push back in, lips on his cheek, Jimin’s mouth falling open as it sunk in what was happening. Jungkook fucking out, fucking in. Setting a pace like he was making sure it was okay, checking Jimin was comfortable, only picking up speed when Jimin kissed Jungkook’s cheek.

Jimin melted like honey until he was woven with the mattress, swimming in the sheets, bodies pressed together as Jungkook fucked him harder, harder. Groaning in Jimin’s ear, cock jerking with every beat, still barely touched, so fucking desperate. He knew Jungkook was surrounded by him, knew how it felt to fuck into someone. Entire body screaming at him to come, to fucking come, nails digging into Jungkook’s arms. 

“Fuck-” Jimin whined, face buried in his shoulder. 

“Yeah?”

“Fuck,” Jimin repeated, kissing Jungkook’s cheek and hugging around his back. “Yeah.”

“Does it feel good?”

“Yes. Jesus,” Jimin laughed, kissing his cheek again and again. “Fuck.”

“Too tight?”

“No, baby. Good,” Jimin mumbled against his skin, brain babbling and needing to hold him. “You can go harder.”

Jungkook’s pace stuttered before starting again, pulling away to brush their noses together, and Jimin saw his face change. Determination and desperation to do his best. To fuck him right. Jungkook had always, always been like that. Always so set on doing the best he could, to make the people he loved happy. To make him feel good.

Jungkook’s hips kicked back and pushed back in harder, harder, fucking like he’d been holding back. Moving how he’d fucking wanted to, fucking him quick and fast and desperate, rocking deeper, Jimin’s forehead against his cheek. Panting breaths and tangled together, warmth and sweat and him, Jimin’s core on fire, feeling like he’d fucking explode if Jungkook touched him once.

It was only a few more seconds before Jungkook sat back on his heels to hold his waist, fucking him properly, over and over and over again. Muscles and sweat and skin, moaning breaths, gorgeous body and gorgeous colors. Brow furrowed, Jimin holding his forearms, sweating into the sheets. Feeling him move like he was trying so hard to give him everything he could, and holy fuck, Jimin was going to come.

Building and building like water at the edge of a glass, all of him trembling, fucking needing it, needing it, eyes closing as he let himself go. Still barely touched, clinging to his arms, Jungkook pounding into him, Jimin’s eyes bursting open when Jungkook made a strangled sound and fell into his chest.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whimpered, mouth against his shoulder, fucking and fucking and fucking him. “I’m going to come.”

“Baby,” Jimin whimpered, so close to the edge, Jungkook pounding into him before slowing down.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whimpered.

“It’s okay,” Jimin promised, gripping his back. “Come.”

“Fuck -” Jungkook groaned, barely rocking, making a sound like Jimin had never heard. 

Jungkook was fucking coming, pulsing and heat and love, hips jerking in little beats until he went limp against him. Beautiful and perfect and so fucking good, whimpering even after he’d finished, Jimin pressing kiss after kiss to his temple, his cheek. Wiping the sweat from his forehead and tangling in his hair, rubbing the back of his neck, gasping when Jungkook kissed him the second he was able to breathe.

They moved like they’d been kissing for years, like they were meant to, lips moving together as Jungkook’s cock softened.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook breathed.

“Don’t,” Jimin pinched his hip, gliding a hand down to cradle Jungkook’s ass. “You lasted way longer than I would’ve.”

Jungkook huffed a little as he pulled back to see him, eyes glittering as he kissed his cheek.

He was pulling away before Jimin was ready for it, sliding out of him, leaving him way too empty as he pulled the condom off and tossed it in the trash. He was crawling back down the bed in an instant, though, settling between Jimin’s legs, and Jimin watched his own cock jump. 

Jungkook kissed one side of Jimin’s waist before the other, trailing lips just underneath his belly button, palms holding either side of his ass and squeezing him there.

“Jungkook, if you breathe on me I’m going to fucking come.”

Jungkook burst into a laugh, beaming up at him, kissing his thigh before biting him there. Jimin grinned like he was in another dimension, almost convulsing when Jungkook circled his cock.

He stroked him one time like he was testing it, seeing if he could handle it, then dipped down to lap the head into his mouth.

Jimin’s entire body screamed, overwhelming, overwhelming, too fucking good, too little before too much, hands burying in Jungkook’s hair and shutting his eyes as his back arched. His tongue slid all the way down and back up, only one more time before he was going to fucking come.

“Jungkook-”

Jungkook felt him pulse before he even said the warning, pulling off to replace his mouth with his hand, and Jimin came harder than he’d ever fucking come in his life.

Cock pulsing as his body shook, vision sparkling with eyes squeezed shut, trembling sensation from the depth of his core. Pulsing over and over and over again. 

He didn’t even realize he’d come on his own stomach until he opened his eyes again, vision blurred, watching Jungkook kiss his stomach and massage his hip.

“Fuck,” Jimin rasped.

“Fuck,” Jungkook grinned, climbing up the bed and throwing an arm around his waist, covering his own arm in Jimin’s come.

“We literally just showered,” Jimin laughed, and Jungkook giggled directly into his neck.

“I don’t care.”

Happiness like he’d never felt as Jungkook buried his face into him, nuzzling him there, their breathing slowing down.

“I love you, hyung,” Jungkook mumbled into his skin.

Jimin sucked in a breath with his butterflies, petting down Jungkook’s back. “I love you, too, bun.”

Jungkook pulled from his shoulder to kiss his forehead before his mouth.

Kissing with everything they’d always felt, everything they could one day be.