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i just adore you asking for more

Chapter Text



kth // pjm




you just signed up right?
fyi most people won’t bite if there’s no name or pic
even if your listed income is that high :p

new yes
also hmmmm


i dont want to put a picture up

suit yourself
people will think you’re fake
trying to have fun as a prank or

im not!
why wouldnt it work?
after all you messaged me right :))

yea well
i'm kinda bored, being nice

also i’ve never seen someone talk about dogs in a profile
so that was a little refreshing

dogs are the greatest!!!!!
do you have any pets?

hmm, no. but i can be yours
or you can be mine. whatever you’re into
for the right price

oh my god

this is a prank isn’t it

no its not that was just
really forward

well. this is an arrangement site.
to make arrangements.

no wait
i liked it

liked which part?

being the pet
you’re really hot 


now we’re getting somewhere
see the convenience of profile pictures?

:( i can’t 

what is it?
it's okay if you're lying about your age lmao
looks don’t matter to me if you pay

no i really am!!! young
well, i guess 24 is young?
idk i feel overwhelmed a lot
like life is going by so fast you know
but everyone older than me gets mad when i say i feel old
but i swear i really am 24
and i think i look pretty good
not to sound conceited or anything just
i've got reason to believe people like how i look

you’re weird, gucci boy
it’s supposed to be gucci right?

gucci was taken

so we’re the same age, then
that’s fun


mob boss?


that would’ve been kinda hot, ngl

dont worry about it
what i do, i mean
this is my first time doing anything like this

what are you looking for, then?

ultimately, true love
maybe a nice house with a dog
definitely dogs
and kids!!! i like kids


wrong site, man

for now i really just
let me finish :(
i can’t get laid

so you are ugly?

i'm gorgeous
i have really good eyebrows

oddly specific
then why not?

i just dont really have time for a relationship
like, a real one

one night stands?

i cant risk them
with what i do, i mean

so you ARE a mob boss

besides i
i like certain things
but i couldnt trust someone enough with a one night stand for them
but no time for relationship 

i see
so here you are
you want an arrangement

i mean
i guess?
im so embarrassed

don’t be
what is it you’re looking for?
those ‘certain things’

you’d be interested?
i thought my lack of profile picture was a turn off

it is.
no one professional will bother without a name or picture
but lucky for you, i'm looking for a new sub atm
so i guess i’m doing charity

:( rude

just being honest
do you see my favorites? i’m a hot commodity
prince of busan, professional dom for rent, occasional sugar baby
all at your service for the right price
really, though, you seem cute
if you’re real

oh man
i am!

then do i get a picture?

you said it didnt matter

i’m not going to judge
you can keep your face out of it, if that’s what you’re worried about
that’s pretty common
but i need evidence you're not wasting my time

gimme a minute



im definitely interested








The pen’s tap against the desk is deafening in the quiet of the motel room. Taehyung’s lost in thought and a little of something else, supposed to be working but his eyes keep straying to his phone where it sits, regrettably silent.

Almost no notification for 23 minutes now, not that he’s counting, except he is. The only thing distracting Taehyung away from the tech is anxious stolen glances at the clock.

He jumps in his seat when his phone buzzes against the desk, scrabbling for it with shaken hands to look to the screen—only to groan and drop back into his seat when it’s just an alert from his manager with pickup details for a shoot tomorrow.

And that’s the furthest thing from his mind. As if he could focus on work now. This may only have started when he’d been bored and a little adventurous, lazily registering an account on this app and expecting nothing to come of it, but now Taehyung’s spent the last hour or so glued to his phone, way more into it than he’d like to admit.

Just to be teased like this. In mourning Taehyung unlocks his phone and rereads over the conversation, unable to deny the interest that stirs in him at—everything, really. At the domineering tone even through text, at the guy’s gorgeous eyes and lips. At the possibility of what could be.

Maybe he should’ve said something different. If he recalls all he’d been able to send back was a hurried yeah? and figured it was flirty enough, but it’s been almost thirty-two minutes (still not counting) with no response.

Absently Taehyung’s hand goes to his thigh, as it tends to do, running a thoughtless hand from his leg up under his shirt and tracing his skin. It’s pleasant, mindlessly so, just the way he always starts to idly work himself up with a soft touch pretending it’s another hand.

In this scenario, it’s one busanprince’s. Taehyung had thought to himself that even if nothing comes out of this, he’s going to have no shortage of fantasies about what those lips could do to him. It’d be amazing because it’s what he wants, and maybe it’s irresponsible but what he wants is to be wrecked. Safely, anonymously, discreetly, but wrecked nonetheless. Taehyung tips his head back, eyes fluttering shut, and imagines: laying back in his fancy hotel beds always booked king sized, laid bare with an assuring hand on him. Helpfully his imagination supplies the potential of his hands bound above his head, and he accepts the vision with a shiver. In his mind the rope strains at his wrists, and by the time Taehyung realizes his fingers have slipped past his hem of his pants they’re already wet.

Like that he plays with himself for a while, worked up faster than usual at the scenario his mind creates. Taehyung touches himself and thinks about a guy he’s never met, imagines a smirk he’s never seen and nearly whines. Offers instead ragged little sighs, ones that time with the way he strokes at himself. He loses himself in the fantasy, reaching the edge entirely too quickly—

On the desk the phone buzzes.

Taehyung nearly falls off the chair when he jumps, a little ashamed and a lot flustered, and goes for his phone. He’s half expecting it to be his manager again, which is a bit of a moodkill, but—the notification reads busanprince.

“Shit,” Taehyung curses, stomach fluttering. He snatches his phone off the desk and practically scrambles to the motel bed to crash down and curl up with his phone like he’d been previously, any illusion of getting work done tonight abandoned. “Shit.”




sorry, had to finish up a session
i’d work with you, gucci boy
if you’re still interested, that is


“Holy shit,” Taehyung whispers, mind racing with what to reply. He’d let himself down easy with a hand between his legs, but just like that everything’s back on the table.

And that should be it, but before Taehyung can reply (then lay back and quite possibly pick up where he left off, now that the possibilities are open again—) a new message pops up onscreen.


i’m still thinking about those lips


Taehyung’s mouth dries.

“Oh my god,” Taehyung whispers when the picture loads, because that must be what he’s looking at. A god. Unconsciously Taehyung runs his own hand back up under his shirt with a shiver, imagining touching and being touched the same way. Almost whimpers, because it’s too easy now, and before he knows it he’s coming messily into his hand a few minutes later, shuddering a little past a point of overstimulation when he feathers his fingers over himself til it’s nearly unbearable.

Finally he sags back into the bed, limp. Doesn’t get to rest for long, because like magic his phone lights up again, caught in the act clear as day:


you have read receipts on, you know.



Taehyung nearly drops his phone on his face.

“Holy shit,” he whispers again, mind racing with what to reply. As if he hadn’t embarrassed himself enough already. Swipes at the notification with fumbling fingers, cursing himself to think: finally types out the truth.


i’m interested.





Taehyung can’t think of what to reply to that, but he certainly hadn’t intended to fall asleep while searching for what to say. No matter his regrets his alarm goes off at its bright and early six am without fail, though Taehyung jolts wide awake remembering the previous night without its help.

Yet there’s no new messages. More disappointed than he’d like to admit, Taehyung tucks his phone away. He showers with a bit of a grimace at himself for not doing so last night. Still distracted by the previous night, getting ready is a slower process than usual, which is emphasized with a call from his manager.

“Lobby in fifteen.”

“Good morning to you, too, Yoongi.”

Yoongi offers a sound of approval into the earpiece before disconnecting. Taehyung heads to the closet and then down into the lobby once he’s ready.

Yoongi’s a good manager, has been working with him for almost three years now. He gives Taehyung a critical once-over, but if he notices his undereye’s a little darker than usual from the late night, he doesn’t say anything, just hands him a coffee and leads him out to the van. It’s nothing makeup artists can’t fix, anyway.

Halfway through the ride Taehyung knows it’s a risk rereading, so he instead settles for a text. It’s a little suspicious angling his phone away from Yoongi while still appearing innocent, but he manages:


good morning!

good morning :)
sleep well?

The reply shoots back almost instantly. Taehyung can’t help but smile at his phone, a little giddy. Yoongi glances at him, and Taehyung quickly schools his expression. He doubts he’s fooled him, but he looks away for now.


great :)

just fine.
would you mind doing a favor for me?

“Taehyung,” Yoongi says, startling him from his reverie. Taehyung fumbles a little with his phone, starting guiltily. “We’re here.”

As they climb out of the van and walk toward the studio, Taehyung walks a little faster when Yoongi falls into step beside him. It doesn’t deter his manager, though, and Taehyung winces when he asks so casually:

“Are you dating someone?”

He’s always quick to get to the point. Taehyung shakes his head furiously. “No.”

“We’ve talked about this. You’re allowed to, you know,” Yoongi says, looking at him carefully. “But I need to know, to avoid any potential scandals.”

“I’m not,” Taehyung promises. It’s the truth. “I swear when I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

Yoongi looks doubtful, but acquiesces at that. They’re interrupted anyway once they get inside the studio, Taehyung smiling to see Jung Hoseok again. He’s one of his favorite photographers, and he thinks he might have a suspicion why Yoongi manages to book him so often.

Before they can drag him off to the chair, though, Taehyung slips his phone back out. Yoongi’s safely distracted by Hoseok, a small smile playing on his lips.


would you mind doing a favor for me?

:o sure, what’s up?

[user is typing…]

“Taehyung,” Hoseok calls. Yoongi’s looking exasperated, so sheepishly, Taehyung tucks his phone away and heads deeper into the studio.

It’s only later, halfway through the shoot and on a break, that Taehyung manages to sneak a glance at his phone.


before we get started, i’d like a list from you

sorry i vanished!!
im at work
what kind of list?

no problem.
a list of what you’re into
start thinking about what you’d like
so i can get an idea and work up a plan for when we meet


also, limits
things you don’t want to do
and then we can talk about arranging a meeting.
if you’re still interested in playing

i am!!
i’ll make a list tonight
thank youuu!!

what are you thanking me for? haha
and take your time, no rush
get back to work! :p

haha you got it

For the rest of the day, Taehyung’s concentration is—well, he’s a professional, so he pulls it off. But anyone else’s focus might’ve been shattered. Maybe it helps, for certain shots, because when Hoseok tells him to lid his eyes and looks like he wants it, Taehyung’s thinking about the sinful lips of busanprince’s profile picture grinning over him.

“You’ve been glancing at your phone all day. You’re sure there’s not something I should know?” Yoongi asks once more on the ride back to the hotel. Taehyung knows he’s being a concerned manager, but he fidgets anyway. “Not someone I should know about?”

Taehyung gives him a dazzling smile, the one reserved for red carpets and asking for diet cheat days. Yoongi looks unimpressed, or maybe he’s just too used to it.

“It really is nothing,” Taehyung insists, leg bouncing. Almost the instant the van pulls in front of the hotel he’s bounding out, nodding through the briefing for tomorrow’s schedule and nearly dashing up to his hotel room. Suspicious, but he’ll deal with repercussions tomorrow.

He’s got a list to make.



It’s an hour after Taehyung finally sends off the note he’s carefully written up that busanprince responds. He’d put thought into it, listing things he’d like to try and scenarios he fantasizes most about. It makes him flush just to look at it: most have something to do with humiliation in some form, and all are submissive. There’s a few more specific things listed, but he’s excited enough and can’t wait any longer before sending it off with an attached note of probably could think of more later! some basics! and a smiley emoji.

This time, though, the reply isn’t instant. Taehyung gets twitchy when he’s impatient, doing anything he can think of to distract himself. He takes a selfie to post to his social media. He browses comments and articles. Watches videos, and halfway through the third, the notification from the app finally pops up, bringing a grin to his face.


thank you!
looks like you’re pretty submissive, then?

is that okay?

of course
i'm a pro dom, gucci boy

that works then haha
so what are you thinking

we should talk, first
i usually wait for first meeting but...
are you available right now?
to call, i mean

Taehyung freezes, and he’s not sure why. Partly, he supposes, because it makes it seem so real. He’s serious, he is, but it’s that everything up til now has been almost a game, a fun little focus and a bit of a fantasy. But a glance at busanprince’s profile picture and 99% community approval rating has him biting his lip and clicking open the reply box.

umm can i just say
i’m a little shy v___v
and nervous

aww, don’t worry
ive got a lot of experience with first time clients
it’s cute

is not!!!!

whatever you say, baby
call whenever you’re ready

Taehyung stares at his screen, at the phone number that pops up, for a while, read receipts be damned. Swallows thick because that innocent baby is doing more to him than he’d like to admit.

He wants this, though. And maybe it’s stupid and risky but—the payoff won’t stop playing through his head.

So he dials the number.

There’s a bit of a delay between call and pickup, each ring bringing Taehyung’s anxiety higher and expectations lower. At least, he thinks, if he gets uncomfortable he can always hang up. Deactivate the account. Pretend this never happened. He still has that power.


Oh. busanprince’s voice is soft, the tone apparent even with one word. Taehyung nearly blanks.

“Uh, hello,” Taehyung finally manages, intelligently. “It’s, uh. It’s me.” He cringes, curling in a little on himself, but gets a quiet chuckle in reply.

“Gucci boy?” Taehyung nods, then remembers he can’t see him, and confirms. “Mm, I was starting to worry you wouldn’t call.”

“I’m a little nervous,” Taehyung admits in a mumble, wanting to hide his face. Another soft laugh.

“That’s normal. This is about you, okay?” busanprince says. “If you’re uncomfortable at any point, tell me to stop. Or even hang up if you’re nervous, but I’ll stop if you tell me to, and we can talk it through.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says softly. “I understand.”

“Good boy,” busanprince praises, and god, that goes right to him. He’d put the pet name on his list beside praise but it’s still such a shock to hear aloud, let alone directed at him. Taehyung bites his lip, swallowing hard. “ that okay?”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung says instantly, flushing red when his voice comes out a too-interested rasp. There’s no way to miss it, but busanprince continues.

“Just to start off with, if it makes things easier, my name is Jimin.” busanprince—no, Jimin—says. “You’re new to the site, but are you new to these types of arrangements too?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung says, clearing his throat and putting an extra bit of effort in to make himself sound normal. He can’t place the feeling, but it’s something like dizziness, a little out of his body and hard to think because he can’t quite process yet that this is happening.

“So you’re submissive,” Jimin doesn’t wait for verbal confirmation. “Everything on your list is very do-able. We can set up a meeting to talk everything over, whenever’s fine for you, and see if we think it would work out.”

“A meeting?” Taehyung asks, hugging his pillow to himself. “Like…”

“No play, yet.” Jimin says, and Taehyung can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed. “For first meetings, we go somewhere nice, in public, and see if we hit it off. Talk about arrangements then.”

“Like a date?” Taehyung says, then claps his hand over his mouth in mortification. But all he hears is a sweet giggle from Jimin, and chuckles along nervously.

“Mhm, like a date. You can pick the place, I don’t mind. I’ll text you the empty spots in my schedule, and we can find something that matches up, see if you'd want to work together.”

“That sounds...good,” Taehyung says. It’s all still a little surreal. “I didn’t really know what to expect,’s so easy.”

“It’s supposed to be. Easy play, no strings attached, right?” Taehyung hears rustling on the other end of the line, an absentminded hum. “So, Gucci boy. Tell me about yourself.”

Taehyung bites his lip. “About myself?”

“Don’t worry, it’s not a test. Just a little bit of familiarity between us. Doesn’t have to be anything major.”

“Well…” Taehyung thinks, a little shy. Jimin likely means information more personal, but all he can think of is the physical. “I’m 24, 179cm.”

“Ah, taller than me,” Jimin complains, smile in his voice. A little giddy, Taehyung presses his grin into his pillow. “Any interests? Hobbies?”

“Mm...I like art, a lot,” Taehyung admits, unsure what’s gotten him so bashful. Maybe it’s that promise of intimacy, the way it can sometimes be so much easier to open up to a stranger than a friend; because he hasn’t shared this yet with anyone, neither fans nor friends. “I’ve been trying to draw, recently. Teaching myself. Just on the side. And... photos, sometimes, too.”

“You’ll have to show me some of your work,” Jimin says. Anyone else and Taehyung would be protesting, but Jimin already seems so familiar. It's easy to talk to him.

“M’not very good yet,” Taehyung professes. Jimin clicks his tongue.

“Don’t be hard on yourself. It’s practice, you know? Like anything.”

“Right,” Taehyung nods eagerly. “Do you draw? Or, I mean, what are your hobbies, too?”

Jimin laughs soft. “You’re sweet to be interested. I dance, actually.”

“Oh, wow,” Taehyung says, feeling bad for the images that immediately race through his mind. Jimin seems to catch on, because he teases:


“Just,” Taehyung says, scrambling. “You, uh...must be pretty fit.” And god, his face is burning the moment he says it. “To dance, I mean! You know...exercise, and all.”

“Mm, you didn’t see the picture I sent you?”  Jimin asks. Taehyung’s breath catches because of course he remembers.

“No, I did, just...”

“Oh, you did see it? You didn’t reply for a while.”

His voice is smug, and Taehyung realizes he knows. Not that it’s hard to figure out, but he’s being teased.

“There…might be another reason for that,” Taehyung ventures, burying his face in the pillow.

“Hm? I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that.” Taehyung nearly groans. “Could you repeat yourself? A little clearer, baby.”

Baby. Taehyung shivers. “I…”

“Is it possible…” Taehyung’s never even met Jimin, barely spoken to him, but he can recognize the smirk in his voice. He feels hot. “You liked it a little too much?”

“Um…” Taehyung squirms, confessing and trying not to mumble. “Maybe.”

“Maybe, huh?” Jimin muses, and then says outright, “Did you touch yourself?”

Taehyung chokes. “I…”


“Yes,” Taehyung answers in a breath, before he can overthink it.

“Cute,” Jimin coos, and Taehyung flushes. “Are you touching yourself right now?”

“I...I can,” Taehyung says, leg bouncing in a heady mix of nervousness and anticipation. “If…”

“Do you want to?” Jimin asks. “Only if you want to.”

“Yea, I...I want to,” Taehyung nods, and remembers Jimin can’t see it. “I want to,” he reaffirms, quiet but firm.

“Okay,” Jimin says, his voice soft. “I don't usually play before pay, but... You can consider this a free trial, if you like. But only if you like. I want to emphasize that. I want you to be comfortable.”

“I am,” Taehyung mumbles. The silk of the hotel pajamas slides so wonderfully across his skin when he turns over, laying on his back to face up to the ceiling. A shiver goes across him when he tugs up the material of the shirt, running a hand over his stomach and chest feeling exposed to the room AC.

"I couldn’t stop thinking about you either, you know. About the picture you sent me,” Jimin says, voice so smooth, almost hypnotic. Taehyung bites his lip.


“Mm. You’ve got such pretty lips. Perfect to kiss and bite. Would you like that, baby?”

“Yes,” Taehyung flushes to hear his voice, almost a keen. It’s ridiculous how needy he feels and sounds already, but he wants it, wants to be kissed and teased, and licks his own lips imagining. Jimin chuckles, because it’s so apparent, but somehow knowing he’s been caught just makes it even better.

"I thought you might. I can kiss you all you like when we play, if you want me to.” Jimin hums. “But it’d be so much more fun to make you earn it, don’t you think so?”

Just like that, Taehyung’s breath stutters out, and almost unconsciously his hand slides lower. Doesn’t tug down the material, not just yet, but his hips still shift when he palms himself through the silk with its friction so soft.

“I can earn it,” he barely manages. “How can I earn it?”

“You know, just thinking about you got me so hard,” Jimin murmurs, and Taehyung stills before renewing movement twice as desperately, entranced. “You’re so hot, but so cute. God, wanted you to sub for me so bad. I couldn’t stop thinking about your thighs, baby. Would you let me kiss them?”

“Please,” Taehyung whines out, hand slipping under the hem of the pants and tugging them down. He’s so hard already, and he’s only been teased; would suggest specifying that he likes it on his list, but Taehyung’s got a sneaking suspicion Jimin’s already figured it out.

“You get so needy so quick,” Jimin croons. A little whimper slips out past Taehyung’s lips despite himself, and a soft laugh is his reward. “Oh, I'd have so much fun playing with you. Wanna make you so desperate. Yea, I’d kiss your thighs, pretty baby. Bite ‘em too, maybe mark you up. Would you like that?”

He’s in front of a camera far too often for any lasting marks, and they’ll have to talk about it if an arrangement is made, but in the moment Taehyung whimpers and works his hips up into his hand, pulling away only to dribble spit into his palm and spread it best he can over his dick.

“Answer me,” Jimin says, voice shifting lower. “I’ll punish you for things like that, you know.”

“I’d—I’d like it,” Taehyung nearly moans, no longer bothering to hide how badly he’s affected.

“You like things a bit rougher, then, huh? Are you touching yourself now?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung mumbles a confirmation. “So am I. Imagining it’s you, Gucci boy. I’m not moving too fast, am I?”

“No! No,” Taehyung answers, a little too panicked, can almost hear the laughter in Jimin’s voice.

“You are needy, huh? Careful, baby. I can use that against you.” Jimin sighs out so low, and Taehyung can barely hold back a huff of his own breath to think that somewhere in the city Jimin’s mirroring his own position even so much more in control. “I can already think of so many games I can play with you, if you work with me. Bet you’d rile yourself up on my thighs for me if I asked, huh?”

“I would,” Taehyung agrees readily, breathy. “Would I—Would I get rewarded?” and closes his eyes instantly embarrassed.

“Of course,” Jimin says. “If you do what I say. It doesn’t take much to get off like that, though, hm? Rutting up on my thigh. Wanna know how I’d make you earn that kiss?”

“Please tell me,” Taehyung nearly begs.

“I think I’d like you to put on a show for me like that. But up the stakes a little, yeah? Have you ever edged yourself?”

“M-mm, yeah,” Taehyung says, sliding the pajama bottoms down and kicking them free of his ankles. With the newfound freedom he rolls over, slotting a pillow between his legs, and closes his eyes to pretend it’s a strong thigh instead, and a hand in his hair. “M’not very good, though, I—I give in too easy.”

“I can train you,” Jimin says so hot and low, a little bit of a rasp beginning to creep into his voice. “You’ll do it for your kiss, won’t you? I’ll keep you on my thigh and you’ll work so hard to impress me, stopping before you come.”

“Please,” Taehyung moans, past the point of shame. He’s rolling his hips so slow and nice, testing the pace before picking up, unable to be embarrassed when it feels so good.

"That’s how I want to make you,” Jimin says. Taehyung can hear in his voice he’s close, too, and can’t help biting his fist to keep back a cry at a particularly sensuous thrust of his hips. “All desperate and needy, wanting so badly to come til you’re shaking and begging me. Twice, maybe three times. You’d be too cute for me to resist, then, leaking all over my stomach. I’d let you come, and give you all the kisses you want.”

“O-Oh— fuck —” and Taehyung doesn’t mean to, doesn’t expect it but his hips work more and more frantically throughout Jimin’s descriptions til his hips are stuttering and he’s coming before he realizes, gasping out raggedly. Keeps working his hips, slowing, moaning out a little when he can hear a muffled gasp from the other end of the line, too.

They spend a minute like that, breathing heavy in sync on the line. Recovering, Taehyung letting his head spin and opening his eyes.

“Did you make yourself come?” Jimin asks after the moment passes. He sounds so collected, again, but his voice is warm.

“Yes,” Taehyung whispers, looking a little shamefully at the mess on the pillow between his legs, but he can’t bring himself to regret it. “That was—really good. I—thank you.”

“I did too,” Jimin tells him, and Taehyung smiles, tired but still giddy and proud. “I don’t usually get off with clients. I meant everything I said. I'm very interested in working with you.”

“I want to, too,” Taehyung admits quietly, finally rolling back over and throwing the pillow to the floor to worry about in the morning. He’d like a shower, too, but at the moment his limbs are liquid. “I’m really scared, but...really excited, too.”

“It’s normal to be nervous,Jimin reassures him. “I've had new clients, we'll stick within limits, whatever you're comfortable with... What’s your name, by the way? I never got it, Gucci boy.”

“I—” Taehyung hesitates. It’s back to that elephant in the relationship, that for the partnership to work Jimin is going to have to know who he is. The fear comes trickling back in cold, and feeling so uncomfortable, he mumbles, “Can I...Can I wait, and tell you in person?”

There’s silence on the line for a long second, and afraid he’s ruined everything Taehyung bites his lip and almost makes to apologize when Jimin says, “Of course. That’s fine. Are you worried about discretion?” Taehyung hesitates, and gives a confirmation. “I understand. I’m discreet, but it’s very normal to be worried.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says, but can’t help adding an embarrassed, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jimin scolds him gently. “If you’re ever uncomfortable about anything, you don’t even need to give me a reason, just tell me. I’m glad we can establish that already.”

Assured, Taehyung can’t help but smile to himself, even if the anxiety’s still there over what could happen when they actually meet. Still, Jimin’s reassured him for the moment, and he’s content. Blissfully so, and soothed to sleep, if his fuzzy mind’s any indication. So he says:

“Could we...could we talk until I fall asleep?” Taehyung asks, throwing an arm over his eyes, bracing himself for rejection.

“Aw. Of course,” Jimin says instead. “Did you think I was going to hang up on you? The phone sex equivalent of skipping out the next morning?"

“Maybe,” Taehyung says, and the both of them laugh.

"I always take care of aftercare with my clients," Jimin promises. "Even if you're still on an unofficial free trial."

More at ease, Taehyung makes himself comfortable, tucking the phone beside him and curling up with a clean hotel pillow.

It should be awkward, but it’s not. Jimin’s ridiculously easy to talk to, and Taehyung finds he likes the way Jimin teases him, so gently. Before it gets too late Jimin sends Taehyung a list of his schedule, and lets him pick a time in the blanks and a place they can meet that works for him.

“This Thursday, at noon?” Taehyung asks with a sleepy hum.  All the shoots for this particular spread wrap up on Wednesday, and Yoongi always clears his schedule to give him the next day off. “I know a nice café in Hongdae.”

“That works just fine for me,” Jimin says. “Text me the address, and I’ll see you there.”

It’s a date. Taehyung can barely recall what they continue to talk about, but when his alarm goes off the next morning he feels the most rested and satisfied he has in months.







On the appointed day of, Taehyung spends around two hours picking out what to wear, dressing and undressing before settling on something as nice yet inconspicuous as he can manage: ditches the dress shirts for a simple long sleeve black & white dotted piece, flattering though plain enough to match a mask and cap.

Despite the delay in dressing, Taehyung arrives at the café a half hour early. He finds himself in back, tucked into a corner table by request. He doesn’t seem to be recognized, so he passes the time and fights off his nervousness with an ordered iced tea, a text to Jimin describing his outfit and table, and a snapped selfie to upload later.

Taehyung’s refreshed his feed for the third time when the bell above the shop door jingles. Just like every ring before, Taehyung is hit with a new wave of anxiety. This time, however, instead of being chased away by the sight of a couple or anyone obviously not his lunch date, Taehyung’s nervousness only increases: because the person who steps in is a guy that looks to be his age, dark hair and a denim jacket and way too hot for Taehyung’s health. Taehyung starts hyperventilating somewhere between the way maybe-Jimin runs a hand over his hair and scans the cafe, and when his eyes land on him and light up Taehyung’s sure his heart’s stopped.

Taehyung half lifts a hand in greeting, and the man who’s definitely Jimin and definitely too beautiful for Taehyung to handle smiles, shrugging up his bag on his shoulder and heading over. His heart’s pounding in his chest but everything seems to go well—that is, until Jimin reaches his table, and Taehyung sees the light of recognition flash in his eyes.

“Oh, wow,” Jimin says, coming to an abrupt stop, and Taehyung can tell his awe is for more than seeing him. “It’s you. I—know you.”

and suddenly Taehyung’s a little embarrassed and a lot scared, because Jimin’s standing long enough that some people are starting to look even as far back and in the corner as his table is.

“Please sit down,” he almost begs, and the frantic note in his voice must catch Jimin’s attention, because he blinks and slides into the booth across from him. Taehyung leans back into his own, turned self conscious in a moment, and tugs up the collar of his shirt.

Jimin must be used to the nervousness, but Taehyung’s sure he’s taking it to a whole new level, fidgeting under Jimin’s stare and playing with his sleeves.

“Hey,” Jimin says finally, reaching out a hand across the table. Doesn’t place it on one of Taehyung’s, but beside his instead, a comforting presence. “Don’t freak out. I told you, discretion, remember? I’m just a little surprised.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says, and tries to take a breath, like he hasn’t just seen his career flash before his eyes. “Um, hi, then.”

“Hey, Gucci boy.” There’s a small smile on Jimin’s lips, and he keeps his voice quiet when he adds: “Kim Taehyung.”

Taehyung stiffens and looks around, but the scene is loud and they’ve gone back to being ignored. Still a bit of a whine— “You said discreet.”

“Oh, I am,” Jimin says. “It’s just—I’m a bit of a fan, I guess? Like, your aesthetic and your face and stuff. I follow you on Instagram, actually.”

Taehyung colors a little at that, tilting his head. Of course he’s had people tell him they’re fans before, but it’s a little different coming out of the mouth of someone who looks like a modern Adonis and has made him come over the phone.

“A fan, huh?” he manages.

“Yup,” Jimin pops the syllable. “There was this one photoshoot, last year, with a bandana—”

“For YNWA’s spring issue,” Taehyung recalls softly.

Jimin grins at him. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize your voice, actually. You’ve probably starred in at least four of my wet dreams.”

“Only four?” Taehyung asks. Jimin laughs.

“The night is young,” he says dramatically. But there must be anxiety playing on Taehyung’s face again, because he softens. “Hey. Really, don’t worry, okay? 'M a professional, I’ve worked with people in the public eye. A director, even a politician. This is nothing.”

“Okay,” Taehyung repeats, still a little unconvinced. It’d been one thing before, all online and then breathy over the phone, but face to face it’s a little disconcerting. In the age of instant communication and media, Taehyung’s not feeling so great knowing a self-professed fan now has a list of everything that gets him off, whether it’s a job or not. Even if he’d had no idea who Taehyung was at the time, he does now. "I should've told you, I guess, I just—I didn't know how." he finishes lamely.

"Don't worry about it, okay? It's fine." Jimin pats the space beside his hand comfortingly, and stands, promising to return with his order. Taehyung spends the three minutes until Jimin returns with his tea in borderline existential agony, unable to crush the fear that this was a mistake, but—Jimin had been so kind, and so perfect for him. They’d already gotten along great even before meeting, so he shoves down the doubt as best he can and smiles at Jimin when he sits back down.

“It’s nice to meet you. In person, I mean. I’m serious about wanting to work with you, if you still want to.” is how Jimin starts. Taehyung hesitates, then nods, “Before we begin, I want to remind you what I said the other night. If you’re uncomfortable about anything, stop me, okay? We can discuss it.”

“I understand,” Taehyung agrees. Jimin nods back.

“So,” Jimin begins, and tugs a small notebook out of his bag. He turns to a blank page, and clicks a pen, turning businesslike in a moment. “Since you said this was your first time in any sort of arrangement, would you like me to go over an explanation, or have you done any research?”

Taehyung shakes his head, a little intimidated. “I skipped the homework portion. I’m sorry.”

Jimin shakes his head. “That’s fine. I’d rather handle a blank slate than someone full of misconceptions, you know?”

“That makes sense,” Taehyung says. “So what are we looking at?”

Jimin draws a line down the page. “Two things,” he says, tapping the pen. “The fastest way I can sum this up: it depends what you’re looking for.” Jimin writes down the notes as he speaks. “If you just want to meet for dom-sub sessions, pay for play—which is what I’m mostly doing nowadays—I charge by hour, not by content. I can fulfill most anything you want, with some limits.” He looks Taehyung in the eye, like he’s waiting for a reaction. “600k won is my current rate, but I’ll give discounts for longer appointments.”

Taehyung just blinks at him. He can afford it. Reassured with the negotiation, Jimin relaxes and continues on.

“Basically, we’d just plan out scenes and fulfill them. Aftercare’s included, of course, and then we part. Don’t see each other outside of it. The issue is where we can meet,” Jimin leans back and taps his pen to his chin. “I have kind of an office set up at my place, but I understand if you're not comfortable with that for our first session.”

Taehyung thinks for a moment. “I can book a hotel room.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow, teases, “Scandalous,” and they both laugh, Taehyung a little embarrassed. “That’s a good option. Cost is on you, though.”

“I want this,” Taehyung says quietly, looking down at his hands. “I can afford it.”

Jimin’s quiet a moment, but he nods when Taehyung looks up.

“What’s the other option?” Taehyung asks, pointing. “The other category.”

Jimin tilts his head. “The more intense, involved option. I haven’t really done sugar work in a while, but... well, to be honest, I think I’d make an exception for you,” he adds slyly, and Taehyung feels himself blush. “Rather than just our sessions, you’d be paying for, well, a relationship. Throw away what you think you know from what you’ve seen in popular culture. We negotiate how often we meet, what it is we do, etcetera. In return, you give me a monthly allowance, provide gifts.” Jimin pauses. “It is a relationship, though. You’re paying for my companionship. It’s why it’s harder to work out, because we have to actually like each other. So far, though, I’m not having any problems with that.”

Jimin winks, and Taehyung has to struggle not to swoon. Jimin’s really too much, even while discussing a relationship in its monetary value so formally.

“How much are we talking?”

“Well…” Jimin twirls the pen in his fingers. “It’s a negotiable rate, honestly. Depending on the terms we set, how often we meet, what we do—usually, though, I settled for four million won per month, at the very lowest.”

"Just that?" Taehyung frowns. Jimin snorts.

"I'm happy to take more, of course, Mr. Model," Jimin teases, "I'm just going off my usual minimum."

“Alright,” Taehyung smiles, thinking. “Can we—Can I think about it a little more, and stick with the first, for now? No offense, I mean, it sounds nice, I just—I have to think about where I’m at right now. What I want. I still don't even know... yeah.”

“Of course,” Jimin answers instantly. “You don’t have to decide anything today. You don’t even have to continue with this, if you don’t like, at any point.”

“I do,” Taehyung assures him. “I’m just not sure how it’d fit with my schedule for now... but, I am interested. In the first one, especially.” he colors a little red to say it. Jimin can’t keep a smile off his face.

“Cool,” he says so casually. “The limits, like I said, are pretty simple. We can’t actually have sex. It’s just one of my rules, for the by-the-hour sessions. Dom for rent, if you will. Make no mistake, though, you’ll have a great time.” Jimin grins devilishly. “I’ve already gone over your list of preferences and thought of a few scenarios we can play out.”

Taehyung shivers at the change in his voice, mouth suddenly dry. “That’s...I’d like that, yeah.” Then he swallows. “Just for curiosity’s sake. In the other option, the relationship...would there be sex?”

Jimin rests his chin in his palm. “It's not a given in sugar relationships," he says. "Depends on the wants of the people involved. But since I'd already be domming you, I’d negotiate it in our sessions. Especially for you.” He laughs when Taehyung blanches. “Let’s stay focused on what we’ve got so far, okay, Gucci boy? See how well we work together. When are you free?”

“I've got cheat days, and time off between bookings,” Taehyung thinks aloud. “I can check my schedule when I get back to my hotel, and see if it matches up?”

“Sure thing, just let me know.” Jimin takes a dainty sip of his tea. “Any day should be fine, really. You’re one of my customers, now. And honestly? Don’t tattle, but I’d clear my schedule for you.”

Taehyung tries to look guilty, but can’t help the rush of giddy pride that goes through him anyway. Jimin looks smug, like he knows.

“Anyway,” he says, and finally he does place his hand over Taehyung’s. “Let’s get talking about our first session.”








It’s not the following week, but the week after, that Taehyung secures a day off. He heads back to his hotel room after the day out to shower, but rather than dressing for bed he heads out with a fresh change of clothes for the hotel suite he’d booked in another district. He makes it successfully, tipping the cab driver extra, and heads to the room early.

Just around the appointed time of eight, there’s a knock on the door. Taehyung calls, a little warily, “Who is it?”

“It’s the maid,” Jimin’s voice sounds, muffled. Taehyung snorts, unlocking and pulling open the door.

“I feel like I’m going undercover,” is the first thing Jimin says when he sees him, giving Taehyung a wink when he walks past him, setting his backpack on the hotel room’s table. He’s dressed simply, black pants and a white v-neck shirt that’s flattering even plain, because Taehyung hadn’t had an outfit request. “Fancy hotel room, coming here separately. I like it.”

Taehyung smiles, assured by Jimin despite his anxiety. He’s incredibly easy to get along with, and has no trouble making Taehyung laugh.

“Sorry for any inconvenience,” Taehyung says, but Jimin waves his hand, and takes a seat at the table. Taehyung follows suit, opting instead to sit on the bed facing him, knees pressed together a little nervously. Jimin looks over him appraisingly.

“Before we start,” he says. “You remember everything we discussed?” Taehyung nods. “Safety words?”

“Louis Vuitton,” Taehyung says, wrinkling his nose.

Jimin rolls his eyes, like he had the first time Taehyung had said it. He’d originally thought Gucci would be hilarious, but Jimin had said he’s too fond of his nickname. So he’d wanted to list something that would immediately, undoubtedly turn him off. "The color system, Taehyung."

"Yellow to pause, red to stop," Taehyung pretends to sigh. Jimin chuckles, shaking his head.

“Alright. Good. I’ll get the bed ready. You can strip, if you’re still comfortable. Whenever you’re ready.”

Taehyung had told Jimin he didn't need too much time to ease into comfort, that being unclothed wasn’t a big deal. And it’s not; he’s stripped several times during work days for shoots or shows, rarely with the luxury of being alone. It’s second nature at this point, and Taehyung knows he looks good. Knows most of Korea agrees, too. It’s just a little different tonight. Still, he’s quick in ridding himself of his shirt and pants, folding them neatly over one of the suite’s chairs. He leaves on his briefs, though, because Jimin had asked him to at first, just to make sure he was comfortable.

Getting the bed ready turns out to be code for pulling back the thick hotel-standard comforter, which Jimin deposits on the floor ungracefully with a wrinkled nose. The sheets at least seem to satisfy, and he turns back to Taehyung with a smile, looking over him once before nodding.

“Go ahead and sit on the bed for me,” he says. Taehyung does so, already feeling anticipation from the way Jimin looks at him approvingly. Jimin turns to his bag and messes with it for a moment before returning to the bed.

“I decided on cotton,” Jimin says. In his hands he’s got a length of white braided rope, and shears that he sets on the bed beside Taehyung. “It’s easy to knot, and soft. These are just in case I need to cut later, because it’s hard to give. Okay?” Taehyung nods. In a move so maddening, Jimin kneels, positioning himself in front of Taehyung, rope still in hand. He’s watching Taehyung carefully, so Taehyung nods again in approval. Jimin continues. “Hold out your hands.”

He’s moved past asking, Taehyung notes with a swallow, and extends his arms out. Jimin works with a practiced efficiency, looping his wrists together and finishing with a neat center knot. The process is fast, and Jimin’s quiet, tongue poking out a little while he works. The end result is pretty, the braids of the rope blending into one another.

“How does it feel?” Jimin asks. “It’s not too tight?”

“It’s good,” Taehyung answers quietly, transfixed. “It’s fine. Just fine.”

Jimin’s thumb rubs at his wrist, and he pulls his hands back. “Move your hands for me,” he says, and Taehyung obeys, wiggling his fingers and tugging lightly. Jimin’s proven his expertise already, because it’s loose enough to allow a slide but remains firmly secure. Jimin tugs at each loop once more to be sure, then pats his hand and stands.

“Go ahead and lie back on the bed,” Jimin says, and watches him do so. It takes a little bit of wriggling with his hands bound in front of him, but the helpless feeling and Jimin’s eyes on him just start a pleasant prickling under his skin. “Close your eyes and spread your legs.”

The ceiling vanishes as Taehyung obeys, listening. Jimin’s returned to his bag by the sound of it, and a minute or so later the bed dips, in a way that suggests Jimin’s settling between his legs. There’s the sound of things being set down against each other, and then Jimin’s setting a reassuring hand on Taehyung’s knee, rubbing circles into the skin with his thumb.

“You can open your eyes now, if you like.” Jimin says. Taehyung does, blinking at Jimin. Whatever he’s brought with him to the bed is hidden beside him, likely as Jimin intended, and Taehyung knows better than to sit up and try to peek. “We can start whenever you’re ready.”

Taehyung takes a moment, breathes in and swallows before exhaling. There’s a pleasant buzz starting up behind his eyes, and he’s happy to realize how comfortable he is, the anxiety of earlier replaced with pure anticipation. So after a minute, he replies, “I’m ready.”

Jimin’s hand squeezes his thigh reassuringly, and he tilts his chin.

“Hands above your head,” Jimin says, and Taehyung lifts his arms up unquestioningly. He’d settled in the perfect spot, because the tips of his fingers just barely brush the headboard. “Keep them there unless I tell you otherwise. I’ll be mad if I have to tie them to the headboard. Do you understand?”

“I understand,” Taehyung answers, a little numb. What they’re doing is something he’s dreamed of for so long, that in the moment it’s almost surreal.

“I want you to keep your legs spread for me, too,” Jimin says. “I know I don’t have to tie them tonight. You’ll be good for me, right?”

Taehyung nods, shivering a little, a glow going through him at the words.

“Here’s how tonight is going to work,” Jimin says, and Taehyung can’t help a contented sigh when Jimin starts working his hands on kneading Taehyung’s thighs, giving him a small smile to hear the sound. “We’re going to take things nice and slow, okay? Figure out what you like.”

Jimin doesn’t give any indication he’s heard Taehyung’s quiet okay, just continues. One hand gets taken off his thigh and disappears beside Jimin.

“Wanna get you nice and warmed up, first,” he says, and his hand reappears, item held delicately between his fingers. Taehyung can’t help but to huff out an eager breath in recognition. “You put pain down, baby. Let’s see how much you like it.”

The crop is raised high above him, and Taehyung tenses, but with a quiet laugh Jimin only lowers it to his chest. He traces it down to Taehyung’s stomach, the feeling of the leather so light across his skin.

“Do you know what this is?” Jimin asks, tapping the crop lightly on his stomach. Taehyung tenses again, Jimin’s eyes crinkling to see the movement of his abdomen.

“A riding crop,” he answers, and his voice is a little breathy but Taehyung can’t bring himself to care, starry eyed.

“Good boy.” Jimin gives his stomach another light tap, and Taehyung sighs out before he can help it. “You remember the talk we had about marks?”

It’d been disappointing. At the top of Taehyung’s list he’d put how much he likes the idea of being marked up, bruising left to see the next day, but Jimin had asked him how it would work with his shoots, and Taehyung’s hopes had been dashed remembering he needs to keep his skin clear. Still he nods.

“I don’t know how easy you mark up yet, so I’m going to take things nice and light,” Jimin tells him. The crop begins to slide back up his stomach and toward his chest, and Jimin splays the end flat under Taehyung's chin, tipping his head up. When he swallows Taehyung’s throat bobs against the leather, and he feels his breath quicken at the position. “I want you to count for me. Can you do that, baby?”

“Yes,” Taehyung promises, voice shaking. “I can do that.”

When the crop comes down, it moves fast. Jimin keeps true to his word about keeping the hits light, because the sound hits him before the sense of impact, but Taehyung still tenses up, jumping a little at the blow to his stomach.

Jimin arches an eyebrow, and Taehyung remembers, quickly saying, “One.”

The next hit’s harder, and the one after that even more so. Jimin rarely hits the same spot twice, only circling back once he’s exhausted every inch of skin. Taehyung stammers back each count faithfully, Jimin soothing the crop against the slight sting of his skin and nodding after each one  before raising it again. His favorite spots seem to be Taehyung’s stomach and thighs, especially snapping it down on the inside of his legs, urging him to spread them farther apart.

There’s a pleasant haze starting to settle over his mind, something Taehyung can’t quite find the words to describe. Somehow he feels secure, so glad to be laid out under Jimin’s careful gaze, skin beginning to redden with a pleasant sting. The sensation’s good, enjoyable, leaves him feeling sensitive and dazed until all that’s left is anticipating each hit and babbling back the count to Jimin.

Taehyung’s hardening almost embarrassingly quickly, but Jimin doesn’t draw attention to it until Taehyung counts past fifty. Jimin switches the crop to his off hand, running a soothing hand up Taehyung’s stomach and chest, watching carefully as Taehyung shivers under the touch. When his breath evens out Jimin runs the crop back down, this time slipping lower on his front until he’s pressing the end flat—Taehyung lifts his head to look, face flaming in embarrassment. Jimin just grins at him knowingly, rubbing the crop into the wet spot of Taehyung’s briefs until he's squirming.

“Let’s get these off you, yeah?” Jimin asks, tapping lightly. A groan slips out past Taehyung’s lips before he can help it, hips twitching in instinctual fear waiting for Jimin to bring the crop down again. “Would you like that?”

“Please,” Taehyung mumbles, biting his lip. Jimin leans up over him, presenting the crop in his hand to him.

“Open your mouth,” Jimin says. “Hold this for me.”

When Taehyung opens his mouth Jimin places the crop between his jaws, patting his cheek when Taehyung closes his teeth around it delicately. He looks at Taehyung once more for approval, and when Taehyung nods Jimin tugs down on the hem of his briefs. Jimin handles him expertly, sliding a helping hand underneath Taehyung to raise his hips, and rearranging his legs to slip the briefs off. It should be demeaning, but there’s only a warmth in his stomach and a glow in his heart to be taken care of, unable to help himself.

Jimin splays his hands on Taehyung’s thighs, then, looking at him. Taehyung blinks up at him, and shifts his hips nervously. He watches as Jimin’s eyes drop, and can see him bite his lip in a smile.

“You’ve got such a pretty dick, baby,” he says, and Taehyung can’t help but whimper when Jimin touches his fingers to him, curling his hand gently around his cock. Jimin chuckles. “Look at you. So nice and big. You were made for this.”

Taehyung’s not sure his face can get any hotter. “Thank you,” he manages around the crop, words a little muffled.

“We’re going to play a game,” Jimin says, fingers soothing over his skin lightly. “If you follow the rules, and play well, I’ll reward you. Does that sound good?”

Taehyung nods, mouth dry.

“What I’m going to do,” Jimin continues, “Is trace your favorite words out. Nothing permanent—with my finger, on your stomach. If you pay close attention, you should be able to guess the word.” Taehyung listens, rapt, and Jimin looks fond. “I’ll reward you when you get each word right, and we might even find out the things you like most along the way. Are you ready to play?”

Taehyung’s not sure what Jimin means by finding out what he likes, but it only piques his interest. He nods eagerly.

“Let’s get started, then,” Jimin says, and slides his hand up Taehyung’s stomach. Taehyung’s eyes fall automatically, and Jimin tuts. “Ah-ah,” he clicks his tongue. “Eyes up on me, or close them if you can’t help. I’ll punish you if you cheat. But I know you’re good.”

So Taehyung fixes his eyes on Jimin’s, Jimin looking instead down at his chest. Admires him, the curve of his brow and twist of his lips in concentration. Then Jimin starts tracing, and he has to focus; ends up tilting his head back, closing his eyes to think. Jimin traces once, twice, Taehyung following the feeling in his mind, and then he understands, reddening.

“Baby?” he guesses, keeping his eyes squeezed shut, swallowing back spit from keeping his mouth open around the handle of the crop. Jimin pats his stomach.

“Good boy,” he says, and Taehyung shivers, working his jaw. “That one was nice and easy, right? We know you like that one. My baby.”

“Your baby,” Taehyung mumbles back and then flushes with humiliation. But when he opens his eyes, Jimin’s practically cooing at him.

“That’s right. Are you ready for your reward, pretty baby?”

Taehyung swallows again and nods, craving. From beside him Jimin reaches and holds up a bottle of lube, waving it at him before uncapping and squeezing some out into his palm. He coats Taehyung with a practiced twist of his hand.

“Nice and wet for later. Say thank you,” Jimin admonishes, and Taehyung stutters the words out as best he can. “You’re welcome, sweetheart. Get ready, now. Next word.”

With his free hand Jimin returns to Taehyung’s stomach, humming a little as he circles the characters. Taehyung’s eyes snap back up to the ceiling as he thinks, and he’s faster to recognize this one, but hesitates, embarrassed before mumbling it out.

“Speak clearly, baby,” Jimin says, almost giggling. “I can’t understand you. One more time?”

With a low whine Taehyung pants softly, working his lips around the crop, straining his tongue to enunciate.

“D...Doll,” he slurs out, but it must be good enough because Jimin nods.

“And how do you like that one, hm?”

Taehyung thinks a moment, but there’s no disguising the way his stomach flips. “Like it,” he says through his teeth, swallowing spit. “I like it.”

“You like that one, huh?” Jimin asks, repeating the characters, this time with a light drag of his nail. “Like the thought of being my doll, all pretty and pliant? My little toy for me to keep and take care of?”

"I like it,” Taehyung repeats shamefully.

“Okay, babydoll. I’ll remember that one.’ Jimin hums. “Your reward.”

Jimin slows the stroke of his hand before squeezing lightly and removing it, instead tracing downwards. Taehyung’s breath catches, and only heightens when Jimin runs a finger over him before circling and working it into him slowly, watching his face. A faint noise slips past Taehyung’s lips before he can help it. It’s not much, not at all, really, but the buzz of earning a reward combined with Jimin’s caring smile is breaking him down like nothing else could.

“Thank you,” Taehyung remembers faintly, feeling dizzy.

“You’re welcome. Pay attention, now. Next word.”

Jimin traces the characters maddeningly slowly. Taehyung dares a glance at him, and makes a wordless noise to see Jimin looking back at him, up under hooded eyes. The word, when Taehyung realizes it, almost ruins him, breath beginning to stutter.

“Pet,” Taehyung nearly mewls, and can’t handle the sound, already so desperate. It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jimin.

“Oh, you like that one?” Taehyung nods, squeezing his eyes shut. “Wanna be my pet, want me to keep you and train you? You could wear a collar, and I could keep you on a leash, tug it for fun. Is that what gets you hot?” Taehyung feels his cock twitch in interest, face burning, and Jimin laughs at him. “Oh, that does, huh? I’ll remember that one, too, pet.”

Jimin works a second finger into him beside the first, beginning to thrust shallowly. “You’re doing so well, baby. You’re so fun to play with, so good for me. You ready for the last word?”

Taehyung’s barely begun nodding before Jimin’s working on tracing the word, tracing his nail lightly. Desensitized, it takes a few extra rotations before Taehyung realizes what Jimin’s spelling, and when he does, his stomach jolts.

He has to collect himself a moment before managing, eyes closed: “S-Slut?”

The tracing stills, and instead Jimin thumbs at Taehyung’s hipbone, other hand stilling.

“And how do you like that one?” he asks. His voice is gentle, and Taehyung opens his eyes, locking onto Jimin’s gaze. “You win the game, pretty. No matter what your answer is.”

Jimin’s looking at him carefully, likely watching for any negative reaction. But Taehyung had put humiliation and pet names on his list for a reason, even if he’d never thought about this one before. He thinks, cautious, weighs his own mind and realizes his answer—there’s no denying how good it feels, especially held so close by Jimin. Taehyung nods.

“I like it,” his voice is small. He pokes his tongue out, playing a moment with the handle of the crop, and Jimin’s eyes fall to the motion. “I—I like that one, too.”

Jimin watches him another moment, and then presses back up into him with his fingers, a third one added this time. A slow smile spreads across his face.

“You like that one too, huh?” Jimin muses, tilting his head. “Gonna let me wreck you, get you all wet and needy?” He laughs when Taehyung’s hips buck, and works his fingers farther into him, spreading the lube. “Shit, baby, you’re so hard already. Ready to move on, huh?” Jimin doesn’t wait for an answer, just works his fingers out of Taehyung, who whines at the loss. Jimin wipes his hand on Taehyung’s stomach, smearing the lube. “You played the game so nicely. I think you deserve a reward, a proper one.”

Jimin reaches up, motioning at the crop. Taehyung parts his lips obediently, licking them when Jimin takes the crop back and places it beside him. Instead he holds up what Taehyung recognizes to be two vibrators, matte black and slender in Jimin’s fingers, one a bullet.

“I’ve got you nice and wet, I think,” Jimin says. Taehyung watches him peel open a condom and snap them on over the vibrators, tying the ends for a tight finish. “Have you used a vibrator before?”

Taehyung pauses, before nodding, a little embarrassed. One side of Jimin’s mouth twists up. “Yeah? What do you think about when you get off?”

“U-Um—” Taehyung closes his eyes tightly and opens them again, setting his legs up farther on the bed until the back of his ankles are closer to the backs of his thighs. It’s a distraction, he knows, but it’s so hard to focus as Jimin works on sliding the larger vibrator into him, inch by inch. Jimin stops when he hasn’t responded, looking up at him expectantly, and only continues when Taehyung does. “I—About being dommed. Like this.”

“Yeah?” Jimin asks absently, pressing the vibrator all the way into Taehyung and snickering at the way his breath peters out. “Wanted someone to put you in your place, Gucci boy? Make you feel good, just like this?”

“Mm, mhm,” Taehyung nods, words twisting into a soft cry to hear a click as Jimin presses something beside his leg, the vibrator buzzing to life inside him. Jimin works it in and out of him slowly, til he’s pressing right up against a spot that makes Taehyung’s toes curl. He leans back, satisfied, and picks up the second vibrator.

“You told me you were sensitive,” Jimin says, and clicks the bullet to life in his hand. Taehyung pants weakly, watching Jimin’s hand with wide eyes as he lowers it slowly. “Let’s find out.”

Taehyung’s only able to finally look away because he’s tossing his head back. Jimin presses the vibrator right to the head of his cock, toying him, eyes fixed on his task like it’s nothing to him. The detachment makes it so much worse, and Taehyung can’t help working his hips up when Jimin runs the bullet down the length maddeningly before coming back up to press it against his slit.

“Oh, god, I—” Taehyung jerks when Jimin takes his hand away to slap at Taehyung’s thigh, and he freezes, unsure of his mistake, until Jimin says—

“Keep your hands above your head,” in a warning tone, and Taehyung realizes he’d tugged his arms down, mindless with the pleasure. He throws them back instantly, chest heaving, babbles—

“Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby,” Jimin says, and the shame drains away to be replaced with gratitude that Jimin no longer sounds disappointed. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

And it’s a complaint Taehyung would never have thought he’d have, but Jimin is almost too good at what he does, never staying in one place for too long, working both vibrators on him. It’s almost impossible to keep track of time, but he works him up and down simultaneously; body so agitated, and mind sinking so low.

Taehyung can’t help but writhe when Jimin turns both settings up, and on accident, he kicks his knee into Jimin’s side. Instantly Taehyung freezes, looking at Jimin with his eyes wide. Jimin’s hands still, and he purses his lips a moment, then softens, asking:

“You didn’t mean to do that, did you?”

“No, no, I—I’m sorry,” Taehyung shakes his head frantically, his teeth chattering. Jimin nods.

“I didn’t think so. You’re a good boy. Wanna make it up to me?”

This time, Taehyung nods, shuddering when Jimin pushes a finger on the vibrator inside him, right up against his prostate.

“Use your words.”

“Y—a-ah, yes,” Taehyung whimpers out, mind hazy, wanting so badly to circle his hips up against the pressure again but uncertain since his mistake. “Wanna make it up to you.”

Jimin bites on his lip to hide a smile. “Mm, then there’s something I’ve wanted. Do you remember?” Taehyung hesitates, unsure, so Jimin continues. “Bring that back here, Gucci boy.”

Taehyung can’t help but whine a little when Jimin sets the bullet vibrator down on the bed, but he’s distracted as Jimin hooks his arm under Taehyung’s leg, lifting it back to him and up on his shoulder. Taehyung can’t help a soft gasp slipping out of him at the change in position, feeling so handled and full, vibrations still buzzing in his teeth and Jimin smirking at him beside his leg. It looks so good Taehyung can’t help it, and he remembers their phone call.

Jimin kisses the inside of his knee like a devotional, pressing his lips to hot skin and moving downward. He watches Taehyung as he does it, keeps eye contact, the look in his eyes obvious that he can tell how much Taehyung is affected. There’s a tug of heat in his stomach when Jimin bites into the inside of his thigh so gently, grazing his teeth over flushed skin and Taehyung can’t help but whimper.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin murmurs into his thigh, kisses the area. His lips are divine, and Taehyung’s shaking, leg starting to ache as Jimin worships like he’d promised. “No marks. But I’ve been dreaming about this.”

“You—You have?” Taehyung manages, breathy. Jimin nuzzles against his thigh with another kiss.

“Ever since you sent me that picture, that first day. You really didn’t expect that?” Taehyung blinks and shakes his head, arching just a little when Jimin gives his thigh another soft nip. “Hm, not sure I believe you. Thought you were such a tease, sending a picture like that. I wanted to dom you so bad.”

“Oh,” Taehyung moans, and with a final nuzzle Jimin sets his leg back down, picking up the vibrator on the bed and returning to work. Desperately, double stimulation making his head fuzzy, he asks, “Am I—Am I doing good?”

“So good,” Jimin praises, almost a purr, circling the bullet. “So good for me. Making me so happy, pretty baby. You feel good?”

“Yes,” Taehyung gasps, motion of his hips resuming. “Please, I—”

Jimin presses the vibrator to him harder, laughing at Taehyung’s words cutting off into a moan. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Please,” Taehyung begs, clenching around the vibrator and working his hips upward. “M’gonna—ah, I—I’m gonna come—”

“Oh, are you?” Jimin asks, quirking an eyebrow. His voice takes on a teasing quality, and he looks so unaffected it just makes Taehyung feel even more of a mess. “You gonna ask me first?”

“Yes, please, I—” Taehyung breathes so rapid and gulps, stomach on fire. “Please, may I—may I come?”

“Not just yet,” Jimin says, and Taehyung’s eyes widen before squeezing shut, tossing his head back. “Hold it until I tell you.”

“I—I can’t—” Taehyung pleads, hot with shame. He’s sure his lip’s swollen by now, he’s digging his teeth in so hard. “I don’t think I can, please, please—?”

Jimin considers it a moment, cocking his head.

“I’m going to count down from ten,” he says finally. “When I reach one, you can come. Do you understand, pet?”

“Yes, yes, I—” Taehyung dissolves into a moan when Jimin circles the vibrator once more, beginning to run it in a pattern. Jimin pinches at his thigh, Taehyung hissing at the sting.

“Answer me.”

“I understand,” Taehyung whispers, squeezing his eyes shut. There’s the beginning of tears there; he’s always such a mess come undone, and everything’s been too much for too long. “I understand, I understand.”

“Ten,” Jimin says, and Taehyung nearly wails with relief. “Nine. Eight,” and then he does something so wicked. Jimin leaves the vibrator to hum away inside him and instead introduces his hand into the mix, stroking Taehyung’s cock as both vibrators continue to buzz away maddeningly.

“Seven,” Jimin continues over Taehyung’s renewed cries. “Six. Almost there, baby,” and Taehyung knows then, realizes even as Jimin says “Five,” that he’s not going to make it. In the moment before breaking everything is perfectly clear. He’s too close, pressure building in his stomach too quickly, and the pleasure’s too great.

“Four,” Jimin says, and Taehyung jerks despite himself. Jimin’s barely on the first syllable of three when the orgasm hits proper, and Taehyung sees Jimin’s eyes widen before he closes his own, arching up into Jimin’s hand and clenching and crying out all at once, pleasure coursing through him, and god, it’s one of the best he’s ever had.

The enjoyment ebbs quickly, though, because when he opens his eyes, trembling with aftershocks, Jimin’s expression makes a chill go through him. It’s obvious in an instant, his expression cold.

“You were so close,” he says finally. Nothing more, and gone are the pet names and playful smiles.

“I—I couldn’t.” Taehyung whispers, embarrassment coursing through him at the disappointment on Jimin’s face. The tears start up again, renewed and hot on his lashes.

“Couldn’t what?” Jimin says, hitting both switches. The vibrators still, and Taehyung shifts his hips pathetically, keening low at the loss. Jimin’s lip curls. “Couldn’t hold back?”

Taehyung nods, shamefully. It stings when he blinks.

“Ungrateful.” Jimin sets the bullet on Taehyung’s stomach, shaking his head, and Taehyung nearly sobs, head spinning with the disgust on Jimin's face. “Went and got my hands all dirty for you, doing you a favor, and you come without permission?”

“I—” Taehyung feels the first tears slip down his cheeks, tracks burning. “I’m so sorry.”

Jimin narrows his eyes, but then his face smooths, and he leans in, over Taehyung. Taehyung stills, Jimin’s mouth beside his ear.

“Give me a color,” he murmurs.

Taehyung closes his eyes, remembering, and whispers back. “Green.”

Jimin sits back up, expression returning. His eyes drop to Taehyung, and he clicks his tongue. “Made such a goddamn mess,” he taunts. Taehyung inhales when Jimin runs his hand over him, collecting some of his own come off his stomach and shoving his hand in Taehyung’s face. “Clean it up.”

Taehyung’s breath shudders out, and he darts his tongue out obediently, lapping his tongue at Jimin’s hand. Jimin watches him, bored, and Taehyung shrinks under his gaze, but it’s grounding, almost. He mouths at Jimin’s hand, lip trembling, their eyes locked, doing everything he can to plead with his eyes. Finally Jimin pulls his hand back.

“What am I going to do with you, huh?” Jimin sighs. Taehyung swallows, and whines a little under his breath, something wordless, a kicked puppy. “What’s that? You wanna make it up to me?”

Taehyung nods desperately, seizing at the chance, blinking away the tears still blurring his vision.

“Tell you what,” Jimin says, reaching his hand down between his legs again. “Since you seem to want to come so bad, let’s go ahead and make you again, hm? And then again. And then maybe again, slut. Prove to me that you can follow orders this time. How does that sound?”

“It’s—” Taehyung swallows, and blushes to realize he’s already rehardening, interest swirling in him. “I can do that.”

“Maybe your stamina will get a little better,” Jimin taunts. “You hold back until I tell you this time, do you understand? Or I’ll really punish you then.”

Taehyung nods again, and he knows Jimin expects an answer, but it’s a struggle to find the words again as Jimin clicks both vibrators back on. A ragged groan sounds out of his throat, even more sensitive than before, and Jimin’s smile returns when he picks up the bullet vibrator, this time cruel.

“Let’s get started, shall we?”



Taehyung really only comes to when Jimin prompts him.

It takes a minute or so to start thinking again, body aching. Taehyung takes stock diligently, focusing on the physical sensations before working at his mind. He’s licking at his lips, can feel drool drying on the sides of his mouth and where it’s ran down his cheeks. His body aches pleasantly, and Jimin’s hovering over him, hand stroking his hair, smiling so gently.

Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. He’d made him come twice more, until everything was a blur of pleasure bordering on the pain of overstimulation. Had played with him after, too, ran his hands all over Taehyung and let him suck on his fingers and spoken to him so softly. Taehyung can’t quite remember it, now, but what matters is Jimin’s asking him a question, and Jimin is everything.

“Can I see your hands, baby?” Jimin asks again. Taehyung had whined when he’d leaned away, searching the floor for the shears where they’d fallen. Taehyung holds his arms out for Jimin loyally, and Jimin cuts the ties with ease, tossing the rope and shears back down to the floor. He takes Taehyung’s hands in his, inspecting his wrists while rubbing light circles into the skin and kissing each knuckle. Taehyung hums happily.

“I’ll be right back,” Jimin promises, and Taehyung shivers, closing his eyes. He’s saddened when the bed dips, but Jimin’s true to his word, and returns from the bathroom a minute or so later. Taehyung feels his return before Jimin even sits back down, because Jimin’s running a warm washcloth over him lightly, hushing him.

“How are you feeling?” Jimin asks. Taehyung blinks at him, so sleepy.

“Good,” he answers honestly when he finds the word, his grin lazy. “I feel...really good. Light.”

“Light, huh?” Jimin asks, smiling fond. “I’ve got water for you, and the blanket. Can you drink some for me, while I cover you up?”

Taehyung nods, and Jimin hands him water from the bedside, kissing Taehyung’s hair. The fog’s fading away, and with it he’s remembering the promise of afterwards they’d discussed: a movie from the hotel’s pay per view, room service, and cuddling. He sighs happily just thinking of it.

Jimin’s tugging the covers back up over Taehyung, and slides into bed beside him before wrapping an arm around him. He presses another sweet kiss into Taehyung’s hair, and it makes him want, and remember another promise, as his mind clears.

“Can you kiss me?”

Jimin barely bats an eye, fluffing a pillow out for Taehyung before turning to him. “Just did, cutie.”

Taehyung reddens. “I mean—”

“Mm, I know. I’m teasing you. You remember, huh?” he smiles. “Yeah, I’ll kiss you. And then we can call room service, and I’ll kiss you again. How does that sound?”

Feeling needy but so soft, so safe, Taehyung answers by reaching out for Jimin with spread hands. It’s so wanting, but Jimin just chuckles, leaning in.

It’s not the promised bite, but something softer. Even in a kiss Jimin takes easy control, Taehyung practically melting even more in his current state. He makes a noise of complaint when Jimin pulls back, pressing the TV remote into his hands.

“Did you have fun tonight?” Jimin asks, still close enough to let breath flutter out across his lips. Taehyung nods immediately.

“So much,” he sighs, and Jimin reaches to mess with his hair, and giggles when he leans in for another kiss, acquiescing. Jimin presses his forehead to his affectionately before breaking the kiss.

“So you think you’ll want to meet again?” Jimin asks, casually, but eyes intense. Taehyung doesn’t even have to wonder about the answer.

“Definitely. And I think,” he begins, a little shy. “I might even want—the second option. You know. Like...the relationship.” Jimin blinks at him, and a little anxious, Taehyung rambles. “If it’s still open, of course. If you don’t want to, that’s fine, too, I—”

Like some kind of cliché, Jimin silences him with another perfect kiss.

“Taehyung,” he says, and Taehyung feels his lips stretch into a grin, giddy. “I think I’d like nothing more.”

Chapter Text




The next morning, Taehyung’s slow to wake.

It’s one part exhaustion, two parts the fact that there’s no harsh, familiar alarm. Instead there’s a voice calling Taehyung? too soft to wake up to, followed by a finger poking into his shoulder. In response he scrunches his face up sleepily, nosing further into the pillow in his arms and clinging tight. A chuckle is the result, breath playing lightly across his face—and that’s when Taehyung remembers the night before and that he’s not alone, and the memory jolts him awake, sitting up and nearly colliding with Jimin.

Because Jimin’s in bed with him, sitting cross legged and grinning at Taehyung. Taehyung needs a moment with that realization, blinking and sorting his thoughts from the previous night, recalling their session through the beginning half of a pay per view movie he’d likely fallen asleep to. Jimin’s kind enough to wait for him to gather his thoughts before leaning back on his hands, voice casual.

“Your alarm went off a bit ago,” Jimin says, tilting his head. “I tried waking you, but you wouldn’t get up, so I figured I’d let you sleep while I aren’t missing anything, are you?”

Taehyung thinks, then shakes his head. His schedule’s clear for the day, and he’ll be informed at least a few hours in advance if there’s anything going on. Yoongi’s always been good about things like that. He searches around for his phone a moment, before spotting it on the sheets and picking it up. “I have daily alarms,” he explains. “I forgot to turn them off... sorry if I woke you up.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Jimin says. Now that he’s more awake, situation coming more into play, Taehyung’s grateful to realize how natural it is between them. Between the night before and the fact that he’s still very much naked, had drifted off beside Jimin despite barely knowing him, he’d worried there’d be residual awkwardness. Yet already it feels like the most comfortable morning-after he’s ever experienced. Jimin’s hair’s still a little wet, but he’s changed, and the room tidied up. It’s been a while since Taehyung’s slept so long, or woken feeling so rested, so satisfied.

“Good morning, then,” Taehyung finally manages, grinning sheepishly at Jimin. One corner of Jimin’s mouth twists up as he returns the greeting, and Taehyung realizes he’s still clutching onto a pillow, looking down at his arms then back up. Jimin’s eyes crinkle at the motion.

“You’re a cuddler, huh?” he asks. “I had to give you that so you’d let me go.”

Taehyung ducks his head at that, even though Jimin seems to mean it good naturedly. “Sorry,” Taehyung mumbles anyway, but Jimin waves it away with his hand.

“So, how are you feeling?”

“Good,” Taehyung says automatically, because it’s the truth. He stretches a little, hugging the pillow to cover him and rolling his head on his shoulders as he considers. “Really good. Like... the best, honestly.”

Jimin laughs again, the sound lovely. “I’m glad to hear that. It doesn’t look like you marked up any, either, so that’s good. This might be sudden, but, are you free today?”

“Um, should be,” Taehyung says, cocking his head, running over things in his mind once more. “Why…?"

“We should talk, if you’re up for it,” Jimin says. “About the session, but especially if you’re still considering moving forward…” 

It takes a moment to remember what Jimin means, that he’d asked for the relationship. Taehyung brightens.

“Right! I am,” Taehyung reassures. “Do you want to talk... now, or…?” He feels a little silly offering, still in bed and craving a bath, but Jimin seems to understand, pursing his lips. 

“Let’s get breakfast?” He asks, glancing up and down over Taehyung. “You can shower, and we can go over a contract and payment and everything then.”

“Cool,” Taehyung echoes. Thinks again it should be awkward, but Jimin is so at ease that everything feels natural. He hasn’t felt uncomfortable in his presence once yet. “I’ll take the bathroom, then,” and Jimin nods. 

The floor’s still wet from Jimin’s shower. Taehyung makes a note to himself to bring travel-size bottles of his own products for any future hotel rendezvous, because he can just feel his stylists cringing as he squeezes out the complimentary 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner combo into his hand. There’s a distinct lack of products from his usual routine, so he finishes up quickly. Jimin’s scrolling through his phone when Taehyung comes back out, towel wrapped around himself and settling for the previous day’s clothes with a sigh.

“Cute,” Jimin says when he’s dressed. Taehyung turns in surprise, and Jimin’s holding up his phone to him, his own selfie onscreen—the one he’d taken and posted waiting for Jimin at the cafe. “Did you take this waiting for me?”

Taehyung rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Maybe.”

“That’s so cute,” Jimin coos, tapping out of the screen on his phone. “I hadn’t even realized. Anyway, where do you want to go?”

“I don’t have a preference,” Taehyung admits. “Uh, somewhere low-key.”

Jimin thinks for a moment. “I know a place I like to support. Did you drive here?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “Taxi. I don't drive.”

“Ooh, I get to escort you for real, then,” Jimin teases. “Might take longer to drive, but I figured you’d want to avoid transit... are you ready to go?”

Taehyung confirms, glancing at the time on his phone. It’s about 10:30, and a good sign that he doesn’t have any messages yet. Still, he should probably let Yoongi know at some point that he’s not, in fact, in his actual hotel room. “When do you have to get going?”

Jimin taps a finger to his chin. “I have a class later, but I’m free for a few hours.”

“A class?” Taehyung pauses. Jimin hadn’t mentioned teaching, and after the events of last night the only instruction he can think of is something like Dominance 101. He makes a mental note to learn more about Jimin if they’re going to be seeing each other, and tries not to get distracted at the mental image of Jimin in front of a hall holding up various bondage paraphernalia with explanations. “Like…”

“I teach dance,” Jimin says. Then he does a double take at Taehyung’s expression, which Taehyung’s sure is colored with a light flush, and snorts like he’s got an idea of what’s ran through Taehyung’s head. “What were you thinking of?”

“Dance, right…” Taehyung laughs nervously. He chances a glance back at Jimin, remembering the picture he’d sent and resisting the intruding thoughts of what a dancer would be capable of. Jimin just grins. “I remember. You do that.”

“Sure do,” Jimin laughs. “Mm, why the interest? You want me to dance for you sometime?” Taehyung blanches, and Jimin stands, making a show of stretching. “Put on a show for you?”

“Uh—Checkout’s in thirty minutes,” Taehyung manages. Jimin laughs easily, picking up his backpack from the side table and walking over to Taehyung. He leans up to kiss his cheek.

“C’mon. Let’s get out of here.”

The drive’s neither too long or too short, and Taehyung finds himself reflecting on his earlier observation, that Jimin is just that easy to get along with. He sets the radio on loud enough to hum to but low enough to allow conversation, and that comes easily, too; he learns more about Jimin, as he’d promised himself to try and do, who doesn’t seem to hold any reservations filling Taehyung in.

“It’s a nice studio,” he tells Taehyung leisurely, as though he hasn’t just pulled off a pass so aggressive Taehyung isn’t gripping his seat. “I’ve been teaching there three years now, coming up on a fourth. I like it a lot.”

“That’s really nice,” Taehyung says, and he means it. “And the, ah, side work…?” 

“Domming?” Jimin supplies helpfully, smile relaxed. “Bit of extra cash. I know, boring. People always want sex workers to have some tragic backstory, but really, I’m good at it. And I enjoy it, too.” The light changes, and he taps the gas, edging forward again. “It’s the kind of job that makes for an interesting introduction at parties, I’ll tell you that.”

“I bet,” Taehyung murmurs. Jimin glances at him.

“More so for you, probably,” Jimin says. “Kim Taehyung, Korea’s sweetheart, huh?”

“Are they still using that one?” Taehyung mock-groans, draping his arm over his eyes.

“Not so much online,” Jimin says. “I have seen some very descriptive thirst posts about you, though. Lots of pining, lots more about how dominant you could be with them.”

Taehyung snorts. “God, don’t tell them,” he says, leaning back. “I’ve never—I haven’t really wanted anything else. Except for... you know.”

Jimin nods understandingly. “And that’s fine, you know. You like what you like, and it’s not anyone’s business what you like.”

“I know... but, even so,” Taehyung finishes as they pull into a lot, tugging at his shirt collar. “I’d hate to disappoint.”

The car engine dies with a turn of Jimin’s key, and when he looks back up to Taehyung, his smile’s reached his eyes.

“Trust me,” he says. “You don’t disappoint.”







Déjà Brew is almost invisible from the outside, a small entrance tucked into one of the many alleys of Insadong. From the outside, it looks like little more than a hole in the wall. Inside is much the same, except it’s a quaint hole in the wall, a busy sort of homestyle clutter abounding and neat wooden tables tucked in every corner. Jimin seems to know the place well, strolling right up to the counter and pausing only a second before proceeding to hit a calling bell confidently. And again. And again.

It’s a little loud and a lot jarring. Taehyung’s alarmed because Jimin hasn’t seemed the type to be rude to service workers, but everything’s cleared up when a barista that obviously knows him comes out of the back, nearly tripping in his haste to get out to a chorus of Jimin’s snickers, yelling an indignant, “PARK JIMIN.”

“Taehyung, this is Seokjin,” Jimin explains calmly, unruffled. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Not after you broke my third bell, you’re not,” the barista huffs, turning to Taehyung. He gives him a good once, twice over, and Taehyung shifts a little; he’s used to people eyeing him up, trying to gauge if he’s recognized. In the end he can’t tell, because Seokjin keeps his expression as schooled as it’s been, just extends a hand out to him. Either way, Taehyung’s happy to be greeted like anyone else, taking it with a polite shake.

“You can call me Jin,” he says, nodding his head before turning back to Jimin with an accusatory finger. “You, however, still owe me dishes.”

“Hyung,” Jimin says mildly, “You’re embarrassing me in front of my date.” Taehyung starts, and Jimin catches the motion, tossing him a grin. “Breakfast, please? Next time, I swear.”

Jin makes a show of rubbing at his temples exhaustedly with a sigh, but Taehyung can see fondness in the motion. “Fine. Go sit down. I’ll be over in a bit.”

Taehyung’s guided to a back table by Jimin, who seems to know the place well. Jimin seems quick to reassure any anxiety he might have, catching Taehyung’s eye.

“We’ve been friends for years,” he says, setting aside his backpack on the empty seat beside him. “He knows what I do. He’s not going to snitch.”

“Okay,” Taehyung murmurs, glancing off to the side. He can almost hear Yoongi’s voice in his head, scolding him for being so trusting, for doing any of this in the first place, really—prime material for a scandal, and plenty of digital receipts to fan the flames. But there’s something about Jimin that feels genuine, trustworthy, and if it’s naïve of him, so be it.

Jin comes over to the table a few seconds later. He’s thrown on an apron and ran his hair back, really could be a model, Taehyung thinks idly.

“What can I get you?” he asks, addressing Taehyung. Taehyung sits up, looking around for a menu that doesn’t exist before glancing helplessly to Jimin.

“I don’t know,” he says, “What do you have?”

Jin seems mildly offended, but it isn’t directed at him, turning to face Jimin with arms folded over his chest.

“How could you bring someone here without talking up my talents first?”

“I thought you might enjoy the chance to talk about yourself,” Jimin says innocently. “My usual, please.”

Jin scoffs, but Taehyung can tell he does seem mollified, turning away from Jimin who’s hiding a smile. “Desserts are my specialty, but there’s lunch specials listed too,” he says, fishing a folded linen stock menu out of his apron and setting it down before Taehyung. “I’ll be back in a few minutes and you can see what you like then.”

Taehyung offers a friendly expression and nod as he goes. He decides on pancakes, a safe dish. As he sets down the menu, though, something occurs to him, seeing the prices below the picture. He reaches for his wallet.

“I wanna put my card down for this,” Taehyung says decisively. Jimin doesn’t resist at all, just gives him a raised brow paired with his smirk.

“I’d hope so,” Jimin says. “I know we haven’t made an agreement yet, but technically you already asked to be my sugar daddy.”

Taehyung colors in remembrance. “Ah… right,” he says, sliding his card to the edge of the table. “Can I get your account number, actually? For last night.”

Jimin waves a hand. “We can discuss a charge after we come to an agreement.”

Taehyung pauses. “I thought it was per session?”

“Not necessarily, if we decide on—let’s call it a sugar relationship for short.” Jimin says. “Then we can settle on something that’ll include your sessions. Besides—” He tilts his chin. “I’ll admit, I might be a little starstruck. But also... I like you. I liked working with you. I want to continue doing it. I’m willing to think up a discounted rate.”

“Oh,” Taehyung blinks, trying to keep that from going to his head. The attempt’s only semi successful judging by the heat in his cheeks. “Well... whatever you decide, I can afford it. So... I want to pay you. You earned it. Get that cash and all.”

Jimin snorts. “Let’s talk about it more after we decide, alright? Besides, it doesn’t just have to be money. There’s gifts, and dates, too.”

“Like this breakfast?”

“Like this breakfast,” Jimin nods solemnly. “Except maybe a little less pancakes, a little more champagne and Balenciaga.”

Taehyung grins, making a mental note of it. “Is that your preferred brand?”

“Got a problem with that, Gucci boy?” Jimin fires back, leaning back in his seat as Jin returns.

They order with ease. There’s a few more fiery remarks exchanged back and forth between Jimin and Jin, but Taehyung’s starting to catch onto the dynamic now, sensing no actual hostility. When they’re left alone again, Jimin leans forward.

“Before we talk about our arrangement, I want to review last night, if you’re feeling up to it?” The ending of the sentence twists into a question, but Taehyung’s nodding before he finishes.

“That’s fine. I enjoyed it.”

“I’m glad to hear that. You did very well,” Jimin says. “Usually I might wait a bit longer for you to sort it out in your head, make sure you’re fully settled, but this was your first time and your schedule’s a little more unique than most, so I think it’s best now.”

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says.

“Just stop me if anything makes you uncomfortable,” Jimin says, receiving another nod from Taehyung. He taps his chin, and begins, “So. Let’s start by going over what worked and what didn’t. I especially wanted to ask how you felt about the humiliation aspect.”

He’d agreed to it, but it’s a little surreal to get started, discussing the night before so candidly. Taehyung shifts in his seat remembering, trying to keep hormones at bay. “It was good. I liked it.”

Jimin makes a note. “I’m glad. I wanted to make sure. It can be a little intense for some people, in person for the first time, outside of a fantasy.”

“No, it was… good,” Taehyung admits. “I know I cried, but…”

“That’s nothing to be ashamed of,” Jimin says instantly, almost gently scolding him. “It’s a natural response. Don’t be embarrassed.”

Quickly, Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m not. This might sound weird, but it was almost... nice? Emotionally. To get it all out, I guess.” He shrugs, a little frustrated that the feeling’s hard to put into words. But it had been nice, to surrender control, to let himself cry out and not worry about holding anything back, a relieved feeling in his chest just remembering it. There’d been contentment after, too, the kind of drowsy serenity that comes after a good cry.

“Cathartic?” Jimin guesses. Taehyung nods.

“It was really intense. In the moment. But it felt good, after. It was exhausting, especially with, you know, the punishment,” he swallows remembering, and Jimin’s lips quirk upwards. “But it was really freeing, I guess? It was like letting a lot out. I felt really good afterwards.”

He feels like he finishes a little lamely, and still hasn’t quite properly explained, but Jimin seems pleased. “I’m really glad to hear that, Taehyung,” he says, placing his hand atop Taehyung’s for a moment before drawing back. “So a yes to that. You did really well, by the way. With everything. I wanted to tell you again.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung says, smiling small to himself, a happy glow starting up in his chest. "I really needed it."

“Can you think of anything you’d like to tell me? Something different to do, or just comments?”

Taehyung leans forward, cupping his chin in his hands. He thinks a moment, wanting to find the best response, and sits up a little straighter to remember. “Hm, I liked the game we played.”

Jimin looks upward a moment, remembering. “With the writing? What did you like?”

“I think…” Taehyung wonders at it a moment, before settling on the answer, satisfied. “I liked having to work for things. For the rewards. I liked being challenged.”

“Mm.” Jimin hums appreciatively. “I like that aspect, too.”

“I really had a lot of fun,” Taehyung grins at him. “I wish I’d gotten the courage up to reach out earlier, honestly. I think last night was the hardest I’ve ever come in my life.”

“Jesus,” Jin’s voice comes calmly, and Taehyung blanches, turning to see him walking over with a tea tray. “Christ.”

“Leave my clients alone, Jin,” Jimin scolds, lips twitching to catch a glimpse of Taehyung’s mortified face.

“I have never been anything but kind to your clients. Especially this one, he seems like a catch,” Jin says, winking at Taehyung. “Don’t worry. I’ve heard worse. I’ll be sure to make plenty of noise when I bring over your food so you have time to change the subject.”

“Right,” Taehyung says weakly, dropping his face in his hands as the barista walks away.

“He really has heard worse, you know,” Jimin says. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m flattered, honestly.”

“If you say so... so what’s next?” Taehyung asks.

Jimin tilts his head. “We need to set up our agreement. Allowance, meetings, relationship.” He pauses. “That is, if you still want to go forward with a sugar relationship? You can back out any time.”

“I want to,” Taehyung assures. “What do we need to talk about?”

“You remember the description, right?” and Taehyung nods, but for clarity’s sake, Jimin reminds him: a mutually beneficial relationship, companionship in exchange for an ‘allowance.’ A set number of dates per month, sessions included, and payment in the form of anything from material gifts to account deposits. Taehyung likes Jimin, likes the chemistry they have, thinks they could get along nicely; besides, it’d do him well to have this experience, a pleasant distraction from his job with no strings attached. All the while, too, he’ll still receive the sessions he’d originally reached out for. It’s common, Jimin explains, for people with careers like his, craving companionship of a relationship but lacking the time for a serious commitment. Taehyung’s got enough late hours lost between shoots and runways that he relates, and agrees.

“So what do we need to think about, setting up?” Taehyung asks. Jimin thinks for a moment.

“Actually, there is something I’d like you to think about... again, stop me if you’re uncomfortable, but how comfortable do you think you’d be with more, uh. Physical activities?”

Taehyung blinks at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that if we enter into a sugar relationship, I do lift some of my rules. Regarding the no-contact sex, that is. So I’d like you to think about what you’re comfortable performing or having performed upon you.” Jimin waves a hand when he sees Taehyung’s eyes widen. “You don’t have to give me an answer now. And you can always change your mind later. I only bring it up because I would require papers from you.”


“Proof you’re clean,” Jimin explains. “A recent test. It’s better to be professional and safe than sorry, right? Still, I need a copy of the results from you. I have my own papers for you to look over, as well.”

“I can get those for you,” Taehyung says, promising, “I’ll... think about it.”

“Cool,” Jimin says. “Like I said, you can always change your mind later. And it’s not like, a give or take deal, you know. We can continue with the previous session rules, or introduce a few elements, whatever is preferable for you. The whole point of the arrangement is for you, obviously. Whatever you’re comfortable with”

“I think... I would like that. I mean, obviously, I’d like it. You’re, you know…” he gestures vaguely, making an awed expression, and Jimin snorts. “Is it something you’d be comfortable with, though?”

Jimin shakes his head, smiling. “You’re cute. I wouldn’t offer if I wasn’t willing. And consent goes both ways, you know? Even though you’re my client, I do reserve the right to refuse anything I’m not comfortable with. And I’d like you to do the same for me.”

“Definitely,” Taehyung assures. “I’ll see when I can fit that in my schedule, then. I should get this month’s soon.”

To speak of the devil, Taehyung’s phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen, and shifts guiltily to see a preview photo of a schedule. Hoping Yoongi’s just texted it to him as a kindness, and not because he’s found his room empty, he locks the phone again.

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks, putting his hand in his chin. Taehyung shakes his head.

“Just my manager,” he says.

Jimin guesses. “Didn’t tell anyone where you were going?”

“Nope,” Taehyung pops the syllable. With perfect timing, Jin appears with their food, setting everything down and checking with them before leaving with Taehyung’s card in hand. There’s a couple moments purely of pleasantries, sharing comments between them. After a few minutes, though, Jimin looks curious.

“Are you not allowed to date?”

“Huh?” Taehyung manages intelligently around a mouthful of food, before covering his mouth to swallow a little embarrassedly and shaking his head. He’s realized what Jimin’s thinking about by the time he’s ready to talk. “No, it’s allowed. My manager just wants to know when it happens, so they’re prepared when it goes public.”

“Are you going to tell him?”

Taehyung hesitates. “I’m not sure I’m ready to have that conversation yet.”

Jimin backs down immediately. “Sorry. It’s not really my business, and it’s your decision.”

“Nah, you’re fine,” Taehyung reassures. “I just meant I’m not really sure I’m ready to have that conversation with, uh, anyone. Explaining how we met, that is.”

That one gets Jimin going, shaking his head with a grin. “True. Speaking of, what are you thinking for our next meeting?”

“Do you mean like…” Taehyung swallows. “Date-wise, when we set up pricing, or…?”

“I don’t see why we can’t discuss both.” Jimin’s smile is deceptively innocent.

They come to an arrangement surprisingly quickly, likely because there’s not a lot of negotiation to be done. Taehyung has the money and a willingness to pay for Jimin, and Jimin seems enthusiastic about meeting him. The only issue is their schedules aligning, but they finally settle on something with a fair amount of flexibility—four and a half million won for three meetings a month, that can fluctuate depending if they manage to meet less or more times. The time is Taehyung’s to do with as he pleases, whether it’s a day out or a session in or both.

“There is one final thing,” Jimin says, punching his account number into Taehyung’s phone. “Before we sign off on this.”

“I’m listening,” Taehyung says.

“Don’t take this the wrong way. We call it a relationship for short, and I do like you, but this is a transaction. It’s just that the product you’re pay for is companionship and the sessions, you follow?” Jimin pauses, and Taehyung nods. “Because of that, pretty much the, like, universal rule of sugaring is that if either of us develops feelings, we call it off.”

There’s something that sinks in Taehyung’s chest, and he’s not sure what it is or why. “What do you mean?”

“It’s not supposed to be a romantic relationship,” Jimin shrugs. “It’s a supportive relationship, and it’s not just about money or sex, despite what media will have you believe. I mean, we’re on pretty even footing, but for a lot of these relationships the dynamic isn’t always so equal, regarding age or dependency. Now, ideally, we have a good relationship. We get along, give each other advice.” Jimin shakes his head, like he’s remembering something. “These arrangements usually fizzle pretty fast if one of the parties doesn’t actually like spending time with each other, it’s the sort of thing that’s pretty apparent even if you’re getting paid to pretend. So I won’t pretend with you. I like you, I think we could be friends. I think we’ll work well together. But—and I’m not saying either of us will end up liking each other—it’s the rule, and I have to inform you of it. We catch feelings, we break it off. I need you to agree to that.”

Taehyung doesn’t have romantic feelings for Jimin. He enjoys his company, agrees with him that he thinks they could be friends, thinks he’s attractive and nice, but he’s only just met him. Still it’s a little uncomfortable to hear, just because it’s delivered so flatly, feels kind of like being scolded for something that hasn’t happened. It makes sense, though, so Taehyung nods.

“Yeah, I agree.” And Jimin smiles at him, so Taehyung returns the expression, lightening up a little.

“Now that we got that out of the way. What do you want to do for our next session?”

“I haven’t really thought about it yet,” Taehyung confesses. “Do you have any ideas?”

Jimin flashes him a smirk, making a show of dragging his eyes down and over him. “Oh, I’ve got a few.”

“I can let you handle that aspect, then,” Taehyung says, heat rising in his cheeks. Scolds himself, because years of modeling have made him decently confident, and he’s rarely tongue tied or nervous, but something about Jimin and what they so casually discuss gets to him. “I’ll think about date ideas, too.”

“Sounds perfect,” Jimin says, and they turn back to their meal.

After cleaning up and bidding farewell to Jin, Jimin still has an hour or so left before he has to get driving. They spend it browsing locally, mostly strolling and talking to one another while looking over the local shops. Taehyung’s glad for it, because it affirms what he’d been feeling already; he and Jimin get along well, and he enjoys spending time with him, thinks he can see what Jimin means by the arrangement working better if they’re genuinely compatible. When he’s got to get going, Jimin asks if he’d like a ride, but Taehyung declines, saying he’ll manage with a cab. They part planning to go over their schedules and meet again soon.








When the taxi pulls up to his hotel late afternoon, Taehyung truly thinks, for a few minutes, that’s he’s gotten away unseen. For one thing, there’s not a search party out for him, despite his leaving without telling anyone. For another, he doesn’t spot anyone he recognizes on his way up to his room, and even makes it in safely, falling back into his bed to check his phone.

It’s an activity that doesn’t get very far. Jimin’s texted him, but before Taehyung can open it, there’s a knock on his door.

“Taehyung, can we talk?”

It’s Yoongi. Taehyung winces a little, certain now there’s no way he hadn’t noticed Taehyung’s absence. And it’s—fine, really. He’s allowed to go out, he’s allowed to do what he likes on his day off. 

The difference here is that Yoongi’s been convinced for months that Taehyung’s been dating. Also allowed, but he’d been asked to disclose it, to share the details to better help keep it quiet or avoid gossip. It’s always been easy to deflect because he hasn’t been seeing anyone, but now, sneaking back in after a night spent out, there’s not many excuses to come up with that can combat the reality. And he’s not sure it’s a reality he wants to share, because a relationship would be one thing, but the arrangement he’s entered into instead is prime material for a scandal with plenty of evidence. Taehyung’s put a lot of trust in Jimin, and he’s not certain it’s a feeling his cautious manager will share.

He has to open the door eventually, though. Yoongi looks over him when Taehyung opens the door, not bothering to hide the gesture. He’s still wearing yesterday’s clothes, by now wrinkled. Taehyung tries not to cringe.

“You got your schedule?” Yoongi asks instead, stepping inside. Even with the nervousness Taehyung feels trying to figure out an excuse (maybe he’d gone for a walk and gotten lost, or been held for ransom til his captors had a change of heart, or literally any other explanation than that he was getting dommed by a guy he met on the internet) it’s hard to suppress a muffled snort at the way Yoongi’s obviously peering around for evidence of a visitor. Taehyung manages to school his expression when he looks back, though.

“I haven’t gotten to look at it yet, but, yeah,” Taehyung affirms, flopping back down on the bed.

Yoongi takes a seat on one of the hotel room’s armchairs, looking all the world like a concerned therapist, legs crossed and hands folded on his lap.

“Is there a reason you didn’t look over it yet?”

Taehyung blinks up at the ceiling before dropping his head to the side to look at Yoongi sideways from where he’s stretched out. “I was, um,” he bites his lip. “Busy.”

“Busy,” Yoongi repeats. “Did you at least enjoy yourself?”


“Taehyung,” Yoongi sighs, massaging at a temple. “We’ve talked about this. You’re allowed to date.”

Taehyung’s laugh is a little—no, way too high pitched. “Hah, what?”

Yoongi doesn’t seem to play along, frowning. “Have I done something? Is my management style not working out? We can talk now. I’d resign.”

“No!” Taehyung sits up, shaking his head. Of course it’s bait, but he doesn’t mind falling for it, and means what he says. “No, not even, not ever. Don’t play like that, hyung. You’re the best, seriously. You know that.”

Yoongi looks mildly appeased, the way a cat might look after getting attention the way it likes. “Don’t try and flatter me,” he huffs. “The point is, then, if you feel like that, I want you to know you can trust me.”

Taehyung knows where this is going.

“So, please be honest. Are you dating someone?”

It’d been so much easier before, when it wasn’t a lie. So Taehyung sighs, deciding to go with the truth. At least as close to possible as he can get to it without details.

“I mean, technically?” Taehyung grimaces realizing how it sounds. “Not really? But kind of? Maybe?”

Yoongi looks at him a moment, like he might be joking, then like he’s waiting for him to clarify. Then it’s like a light switches on behind his eyes, dropping his head into his hands.

“Okay, dating is one thing,” he says. “But sleeping around is a lot riskier than a relationship, you know?”

“It’s not like that, I swear,” Taehyung assures, clasping his hands. “It’s more like—I mean. An arrangement? Well…” he trails off, uncertain of how to reassure him without exposing the truth. That he’d reached out in boredom to a professional dom and landed himself a sugar baby. Which he’s not really ashamed of, to be honest, not when he’d had such a good time.

He’s just not quite ready for how it’ll sound aloud.

But Yoongi holds up a hand. “Look, it’s fine. I’ve been figuring something like this has been going on for a while.” Taehyung tries not to raise an eyebrow at that one; this development is recent. Most of the times he’s been out have been for mundane outings through and through, but he’ll let him have it. “I just want to tell you to be careful. You know I care about you, right?”

Taehyung sighs. “I know.”

“I’m trying not to be overprotective. You don’t belong to the public or anything, you can do what you like. So...I trust you. I just want you to be careful.” he folds his hands, looking away. “I know it’s hard to hear, but, you’re in a unique position. There’s people who would take advantage of it, of you.”

Taehyung nods, a little guilty. He just cares. Leaving a digital trail is probably the first thing to fall under the umbrella of that warning, but Yoongi doesn’t need to know about the message history on Taehyung's phone. “I am. Being careful, I mean. Promise.”

“That’s all I need to hear, then,” Yoongi sighs. “Good talk?”

“Good talk,” Taehyung repeats back. Wanting to change the subject anyway, he can’t resist adding on, fighting a grin:“I care about you too. ...It’s why I haven’t complained yet that we literally always end up with Hoseok as our photographer.”

Yoongi’s eyes narrow at that, folding his hands over his lap once again. “You said you hadn’t looked at the schedule yet.”

“I haven’t,” Taehyung snorts. “I was guessing. You really did book him again?”

There’s just a faint dusting of pink on Yoongi’s cheeks, though his expression stays deadly. “Oh, be quiet. Anyway,” he emphasizes as Taehyung finally laughs. “I have some good news for you.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung leans back on his hands. “Shoot.”

Yoongi does look pleased, leaning forward. “The work on your apartment is just about done. You can move back in in a week or so.”

It is good news. Taehyung can’t stop himself from breaking into a grin. He’d decided to get renovation done, and had let himself be convinced it’d be easier staying in a hotel while work finished up. Which had been fun, at first, kind of like an adventure, but he misses his own bed and space. The increased privacy is nice, too, making him think suddenly back to Jimin, and possibilities of avoiding future hotel bookings.

“God, finally,” Taehyung cheers, slinging an arm over his forehead. “One more night of room service, and I might have died.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow. “As though room service hasn’t been the only thing keeping you alive. Please. I’ve seen your cooking, if you want to call it that.”

“Rude,” Taehyung scoffs. “I make a mean cup noodle.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Yoongi rolls his eyes, getting up. “Well, I’ll leave you to it, then. Take a look over the schedule, let me know if you see anything off. I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven tomorrow.”

“Gotcha,” Taehyung buzzes back, getting up to see him out. Once he’s alone again he falls back on the bed, tugging out his phone to finally check the message from Jimin. They’ve exchanged numbers, now, so it’s on his phone’s actual message center and not the app, but Taehyung’s kept Jimin’s screen name. For discretion’s sake, but primarily because busanprince has a ring to it he can’t deny.

did you make it back okay?

just fine!!
how is class?
also i got some good news :)


To Taehyung’s disappointment, Jimin doesn’t respond right away. He waits a little while before deciding to get out of yesterday’s clothes, settling back down on the bed in nice hotel issue pajamas and checking up on various social media accounts. A while later, the notifications center lights up once more.


sorry, just got out
went very well
what’s up?

i can move back into my apartment!
wait i don’t think i told you
i was having some rooms redone
bedroom and kitchen
got talked into staying at a hotel
it’s been cool but i kinda miss my own bed

haha i bet
that’s great news!
when can you move back in

next week!

not bad
that’ll go by fast
we should celebrate 


Taehyung can’t help but grin at his phone stupidly at that one.


what are you thinking?

we’ll have to break in that new bedroom, won’t we?

yes please

send me over your schedule when you can pretty
from class




They’re a week and a half into the new month when Taehyung finds time to meet Jimin again. And when he does it’s a full day, a perfect timeslot for almost anything they want to fit in. He gives Jimin the address of one of his favorite Cheongdam galleries, tugs on a classy mask-and-bucket-hat combo, and arrives a good half hour early, setting himself down on a bench outside to wait.

Jimin shows up a few minutes to the dot, stepping out of a cab and blinking up at the gallery. He doesn’t seem to recognize Taehyung, which makes him snort; instead Jimin’s scanning the crowd a little closely and looking confused. After a minute or so Taehyung stands, waving a hand, and Jimin’s face lights up in recognition. He shrugs up his back and sits down on the bench beside Taehyung when he reaches him.

“Hey,” Jimin greets. With the absence of a few weeks between them, he’d forgotten quite how deadly Jimin’s looks are up close. And in the moment’s surprise of seeing Jimin and watching him look for Taehyung, his outfit had somehow slipped him by. A loose white button-up and khaki shorts cut off above his knee have Taehyung pausing when he realizes, especially with the way the material slides back and up his thigh when Jimin sits.

“Hey,” Taehyung says back, managing to keep his eyes on Jimin’s. “How have you been?”

Jimin stretches. There’s a small pop when he rolls his neck, and it’s got Taehyung wondering who cursed him in his past life. His thighs are just right there. “Fine. You?”

“Really great, actually,” Taehyung says. He’s gotten a lot of good news lately, calls for projects he’s been interested in and more. That’s all professional, though, and today he’s looking forward to spending some time unwinding.

“How’d your apartment turn out?” Jimin asks, leaning back on his hands.

“I like it,” Taehyung says, almost reaching for his phone for pictures, but decides against it. Jimin will be seeing it soon enough, anyway. Sure enough, Jimin tosses his hair back with a knowing smile at Taehyung.

“You can show me, later.”

Taehyung replies coyly, “If you like. I figured we could shop a bit first, but after, it’s not far. I live here.” he lets that sit for a moment, before frowning. “Well, not here. Like this bench, specifically. I mean in Cheongdam.”

The distinction makes Jimin laugh, one that throws him a little to the side. “Cute. I figured. C’mon, then,” he stands, straightening out the accursed shorts and offering a hand for Taehyung. “Let’s get going.”

As Taehyung quickly discovers, it turns out that the problem with shopping for Jimin is that everything looks good on him. It’s probably a good problem to have, but not the best one for Taehyung’s composure. Especially not in the back of the Saint Laurent, with the way this particular pair of jeans hugs the curve of Jimin’s ass. He barely has time to step out of the dressing room and circle around, looking at himself in the mirror, before catching Taehyung’s expression and laughing.

“So this one’s a yes, then?” he teases.

“Yes,” Taehyung finds his voice. “God, yes.”

Taehyung carries the bags as they flit from store to store. Jimin hadn’t asked, but he doesn’t complain, either, and Taehyung likes doing it. Feels a little dizzy walking with Jimin, more than happy to dress him and buy him the things he deserves. The stop by his favorite Gucci is especially enjoyable, walking out with a set of brogue boots for Jimin and a new dress shirt for himself.

In all honesty it’s a wonder he hadn’t found an arrangement like this before, he seems to enjoy it so; but he’s also certain a lot of that is Jimin himself. They’d been right predicting they’d become friends, and get along with ease. Even with a similar arrangement, Taehyung’s not sure it’d be as enjoyable with anyone other than him.

The highlight of the day is purchasing matching sunglasses, Taehyung tugging down the mask to join Jimin in making stupid expressions at each other while hunting through pairs. In contrast the worst part of the day is when Jimin teasingly points out the Louis Vuitton, laughing when Taehyung narrows his eyes at the store with a firm, “No.”

“You’re really that biased, huh?”

“The monogram’s tacky,” Taehyung complains. “And that godawful cream and leather! Maybe you can get away with small pieces, but—” he jabs a finger at the store across the way, agonized. “Hermès is right there.”

“Down, Gucci boy,” Jimin shakes his head, grinning. “Mind showing me, then?”

Fifteen minutes later they’re leaving the store with yet another bag for Jimin, a sleek cashmere retour for when the air gets a little colder and fashion responds accordingly. On the way out the angle of the late afternoon sun over the buildings hits the street in a haze, and Taehyung stops, remembering he’s not alone.

“Do you mind if I, uh—” Taehyung swallows, shifting. It’s embarrassing, but Jimin just looks at him curiously. “Stop real quick? Take a picture?”

Jimin blinks at him before understanding, glancing around. Any worry’s for nothing, because Jimin just nods after a moment, reaching to take the bags from Taehyung. “It is nice, huh?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung replies softly, happy. He fishes his phone from his bag and tries to focus on the photos and not on the way Jimin’s looking at him, smile on his face. A few candids later and he tucks it away, reaching back for the bags.

He wonders if Jimin will mention it, but he asks instead: “What do you think about getting lunch?”

“That sounds great,” Taehyung agrees. “Anywhere you like.”

“Gonna take me for breakfast again?”

“If you want,” Taehyung says, a little shy. “But what was it you said? Less pancakes, more champagne and Balenciaga?”

“What about it?” Jimin muses. “We already hit up the Balenciaga.”

Taehyung grins at him. “Exactly. So let’s get you that champagne."







Fine dining, in Cheongdam, is much like the high-end stores—that is, it’s impossible to throw a rock and not hit one. Jimin spends a few minutes checking reviews on his phone before leading them to a lounge slash grill with an open view of the kitchen, but most importantly, private dining areas in back. Once settled in, Taehyung slips off his hat and mask gratefully, giving Jimin a smile.

“So my manager thinks I’m having some illicit affair,” he complains to Jimin over the menus, rolling his eyes. Jimin looks amused.

“Is that not true?”

“I mean, maybe? Kind of,” Taehyung purses his lips. It’s not quite the same, but close enough that they laugh about it. The caution’s fresh in his mind again, though, even from a joke, so he tugs the mask back on for when a waiter comes to the back room to take their order.

And Jimin may not have asked about the pictures before, but after their food arrives, he tries so with a tilt of his head. Hits the nail on the head immediately: “Do you like photography?”

“Something like that,” Taehyung shrugs. He immediately lifts his hands when he sees Jimin brighten, shaking his head. “It’s not anything special. It’s a hobby, I just—dabble.”

“That’s so...cute,” Jimin says, not at all condescendingly. He’s actually leaning in, enthusiastic. “I didn’t know that.”

Taehyung avoids his eyes, squirming a little as he admits, “I haven’t really...told anyone. I mean, sometimes I’ll post one I like online, you know,” Jimin nods. “but I haven’t mentioned it in interviews or anything, I think.”

Jimin blinks at him. “Why not?”

“I don’t know? Just…” Taehyung shrugs. “Talking about it seems more official. And it’s not. I don’t even own a camera.”

Jimin tilts his head at that, and Taehyung mimics the motion, smiling faintly. “What?”

“You should buy a camera,” Jimin announces. Taehyung laughs, shaking his head. “I mean it. Not to go public or anything, you don’t have to do it for anyone else. But for yourself.”

“It’s really just a hobby,” Taehyung repeats, but it’s a little more reluctantly. He’s toyed with the thought before, but never gotten around to it, and maybe the reason is because it seems so official. He knows he’s good in front of the camera, but behind it? His phone is one thing, and a professional camera is in another ballpark entirely. There’s nothing to blame bad shots for but himself.

“Yeah, but it’s one you seem to like,” Jimin presses on. “I mean it. You looked really happy. I mean...don’t just do it because I say so, but…”

Jimin trails off, but Taehyung nods at him to continue. “But?”

“I mean. I’d like to see your pictures, if you want. But only if you want,” Jimin stresses, eyes falling to how Taehyung’s hand twitches for his phone consideringly. “That’s my point. It doesn’t matter if they’re bad or good, and you don’t even have to show anyone. Just...if it makes you happy, you should do it.”

Taehyung considers it for a while, as they turn to their food. Halfway through waiting for the bill he ends up reaching for and unlocking his phone, finding the album he’s made for his pictures and sliding it across the table to Jimin without a word. Jimin picks his phone up with interest, flicking through for a few minutes, and when he looks back up at him, Taehyung’s curiously shy. Jimin smiles.

“These are really nice,” he says, and of course it’s what anyone polite would say, but Jimin’s voice is all genuine. “I really think you should consider it. The camera, I mean. If you want to.”

“Well,” Taehyung says, after a moment. “There is a model I was considering…”

An hour later, Taehyung’s walking out of a film shop with a Leica M7 to Jimin’s applause. In response Taehyung lifts it from the strap around his neck (he’d insisted on buying batteries and slipping them in on the spot) and snaps a picture of Jimin. Jimin smiles at him, eyes crinkling, and lets Taehyung snap another.

“You’re a bad influence,” Taehyung mumbles, but it’s innocent.

In response, Jimin asks, “Are you happy?” and links an arm in his. Taehyung smiles down at the camera in his hands.

“I am,” he admits. “I don’t know why I thought it’d be pressuring. I’m just excited.”

“That’s good,” Jimin says fondly. “Now, what do you say we check out that fancy redone apartment of yours, huh?”

A twinge of excitement goes through Taehyung, but he masks it by hiding behind the camera until he’s calmed himself, snapping a picture of the skyline. Certain he’s composed, he flashes Jimin a smile and nods.







Taehyung trusts a cab enough to get them close; not quite to his doorstep, but within walking distance. Jimin is quiet on the elevator ride up, though not in a foreboding way, and when Taehyung swipes his keycard and holds open the door for him, Jimin steps into the apartment without question. 

Taehyung’s been settled in for a few days, enough to have refilled the closets and done a decent job tidying up. The kitchen’s flooring has been redone cherry, and the same’s been applied to the bedroom down the hallway. The flat isn’t even particularly large; Taehyung hadn’t seen an appeal in dropping too much on real estate when there’s so much else that could be bought or saved for, but it’s still nice, he thinks. It’s far from the greatest Gangnam has to offer, but there’s a decent view of the river by day and city lights by night, let in by wide floor-to-wall windows. Jimin seems more than appreciative, circling around once they’re inside with wide eyes.

He hasn’t always had it so nice, but in the last three years Taehyung’s risen in both popularity and pay grade. He’s good about it too, hasn’t gone wild spending and doesn’t treat himself too often. Doesn’t feel the need to talk about it, either, considers it unimportant, and Jimin seems he hardly needs it explained for him, today’s expenditures being evidence enough of his savings.

“This is really nice,” Jimin says to him admiringly when he’s looked around. “I mean that. Not just because of the location or anything, it just...feels nice. The way you’ve decorated. Really comfortable.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung says, relaxing. He hadn’t even realized he’d tensed, but it’s his home, and personal in a lot of ways. For example, he’d hand selected almost all of the decor and art on the walls. “I had some help decorating, but a lot of stuff I picked out myself. I wanted it to feel like...home, like me, not just a place to sleep, if that makes sense.”

Jimin seems to agree with a nod, pointing at the wall. “Is that a Van Gogh?”

“Not the real one,” Taehyung clarifies instantly. Jimin snorts.

“Didn’t think so, but it’s cute you made sure.” Jimin says, and Taehyung laughs with him. “I haven’t seen that one before, but the strokes are his, you know?”

Taehyung nods. “It’s Wheatfield with Crows,” he says, stepping beside Jimin to admire it. “I got to see the real one in Amsterdam for a show last summer. They sold prints there.”

“It’s pretty,” Jimin says. “A little dark, but nice. I’m a fan of Almond Blossoms, personally.”

“That one’s beautiful,” Taehyung says, enthusiastic. Jimin smiles at him.

“You’re so art, baby.”

“Don’t get me started with it,” Taehyung shakes his head, self-conscious. “I’ll never stop.”

“I don’t mind,” Jimin says, shaking his head and touching Taehyung’s arm. “We should go to a museum or something, sometime. I’d listen to your voice over a guide’s any day.”

Taehyung feels heat rise to his cheeks. “Anyway, you didn’t come here to talk art.”

“I mean, we could,” Jimin grins at him. “I’m here for whatever you like. But I do have some other ideas for you, too.”

Taehyung swallows, fighting back the flip his stomach gives at Jimin’s comment. Finding his voice, he manages as casually as he can, “Do you mind if I clean up?”

“Not at all, Monet,” Jimin teases, finding himself a seat on the divan. “Take your time.”

Jimin probably hadn’t meant that too literally, but Taehyung takes it so. He hopes Jimin hasn’t taken his rapid shower time at the hotel to heart, because now he’s surrounded with the mass of products he’s required to use, and takes extra time to clean himself. Stays in the bathroom a little longer, after, blowdrying his hair and rubbing lotion into his skin. Usually afterwards he gets dressed for the day or into pajamas for the night, but today he’s got Jimin over and doubts he’s going to stay in anything for long, so he opts for one of his robes, a nice white silk with an embroidered olive branch above the breast. 

When he comes back out, Jimin sets his phone aside to lean forward, elbows on his knees to glance over Taehyung appreciatively.

“Can I get—well, probably should’ve offered earlier...but, something for you to drink?” Taehyung tries, remembering a little too late how to be a good host. Jimin looks amused, but then considers, tilting his head with a private smile. “Actually, some water might be nice.”

“Gotcha,” Taehyung hums, padding back over to the kitchen inlet and filling a tumbler from the fridge. When he returns Jimin makes a show of sipping once with his eyes fixed on Taehyung, before setting it to the side of the sofa where there’s a stand.

“So,” Jimin says, making a show of running his eyes over Taehyung. “I was thinking we should do some shopping.”

Taehyung stares at him a moment, confused.

“Shopping?” he says finally, unsure he’s heard him correctly, glances down at the robe he’s put on. Jimin looks amused.

“Not out,” he says, and Taehyung relaxes. “But since we decided on regular sessions, I figured you should treat yourself to some equipment. You deserve better than the low-power, plastic-wrapped throwaways for infrequent clients.”

“You mean—” Taehyung feels excitement tug at his stomach despite himself. “I mean, I can’t go out shopping It’s too risky.”

Jimin waves a hand. “You deserve better than the local shops, anyway,” he says. “I was figuring we could go online together. I’ll show you some of the best sites for ordering.”

“Yeah, okay,” Taehyung agrees instantly. Jimin gives him a reassuring smile, watching Taehyung go for his laptop where it’s tucked beside the TV. He brings it back over, making to sit beside Jimin, but hesitates when Jimin catches his arm.

“You can sit in my lap,” Jimin offers, spreading his legs so slightly and smiling calmly at Taehyung. “If you’d like. Figured I’d make you feel nice.”

Jimin doesn’t have to tell him twice. And Taehyung—he finds he likes being in Jimin’s lap. Feels good cradled there, held and pampered, molding into him, perched half on his knee and half falling his back against his chest with Jimin’s arm snaked around his waist. Jimin sets the laptop on the coffee table before them, pulling it closer when Taehyung gives a nod of approval.

“So most of the shops in Seoul don’t have the highest quality products, or if they do they’re overpriced to compensate for the import fees,” Jimin explains to him. It’s a little hard to follow, not because it’s particularly complicated, but because Jimin’s thumbing at his knee as he explains. “There’s a few sites to get around it, though. Mostly Japanese, get by customs a little easier.”

“This isn’t, like, illegal, is it?”

“Nah,” Jimin laughs at Taehyung’s expression. “Just not really advertised, you know? Like getting around the content filters.”

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” Taehyung says primly. “I’m pure.”

It takes them both less than ten seconds to lose it, Taehyung pressing his face into Jimin’s hair to muffle his laugh.

“Sure,” Jimin teases him, ducking his head when Taehyung swipes at him playfully.

“Anyway,” Taehyung says when the site pops up. There’s a page of products facing him, attention shifting almost instantly. “What are we shopping for today?”

Jimin presses a kiss to Taehyung’s shoulder. “Whatever you like. I figured we could start with the basics and see if anything else catches your eye.”

So they do. And it’s surprisingly domestic, looking over products, laughing at some, Jimin tightening his grip on Taehyung’s waist when others leave him breathless. He’s maddening about it, squeezing the hand he’s got on Taehyung’s hip and rubbing at his side. Most of the shopping’s easy, things like plugs and rings and vibrators where they only have to think about size and sometimes color options; but the air gets a little heavier when the cart’s been filled with the basics, and Jimin clicks on the fetish section.

When the page loads, Jimin seems to sense the way Taehyung’s breath catches.

“I thought we might play a game,” Jimin says, so soft. Taehyung keeps still, reminding himself to breathe. “We’ll take a look at some things you might like, and if you want it, you tell me how you’d like me to use it on you. Does that sound fun?”

Taehyung swallows thickly. “It sounds fun,” he agrees, voice muted, and Jimin pats at his hip.

“Let’s start with restraints,” Jimin says, much too casually. “I can work with rope, but is there anything you can think of that you’d like for yourself?”

The answer comes easily, mostly because it’s a knee-jerk thought for most people when mentioning bondage. “Handcuffs?” Taehyung suggests, not sure he really has a special interest in them one way or the other, but it’s a place to start.

But Jimin murmurs, “Cute,” clicking on the drop down menu. Another moment for the page to load, and most make Taehyung wrinkle his nose. He’s not a fan of the gaudier sets, thinks the fuzz and rhinestones is a little overkill, but as Jimin clicks down the page, something in particular catches his eye. Something in his stance must catch Jimin’s attention, too, because he stops scrolling.

“You see something you like?”

“Maybe,” Taehyung tries to keep his voice as unaffected as Jimin’s is, but there’s a bit of a shake. He’s just not practiced enough at it. “The...third one. Second row.”

It only takes Jimin a second to locate the one he means, and when he does, his grip tightens on Taehyung’s waist, nails so slightly pressing in through the material of the robe. Taehyung bites his lip, looking at the blown-up page when Jimin clicks on it: a simple set of matte black handcuffs, but with a detachable ring and chain. There’s suggested products to the side, what Taehyung recognizes to be clamps and a collar, each with a ring for the chain to hook onto.

“This one?” Jimin asks, and he’s sliding his hand down, now, thumbing over Taehyung’s hip as he goes, massaging little circles into Taehyung’s thigh and playing right at the hem of the robe. “Do you like this one, baby?”

“It’s, ah—nice,” Taehyung finishes lamely, nodding his head. Jimin just gives another soft hum. “There’s—extra parts—?”

“Mm,” Jimin nods. “Want me to show you?”

Taehyung thinks a moment, “Please?”

“Can I touch you?"

Jimin’s hand stills on Taehyung’s thigh, waiting for confirmation.

Taehyung’s teeth find his lip again as Jimin shifts him in his lap, turning Taehyung closer to him. His expression’s calm, flat, waiting for Taehyung’s confirmation.

“Are we…?” Taehyung begins, hesitant.

“Starting a session?” Jimin supplies helpfully, quiet. Taehyung nods. “Not yet. Just gonna show you how we’d use that, okay? Wanna make you feel good. All for you.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says. Jimin’s cool expression melts to give him a reassuring smile, before reaching for his hands.

“You know where the handcuffs go,” he begins, conversationally. The pressure on Taehyung’s wrists is light, but no less intimate for it. “But there’s a place to hook a chain. Do you see where it connects?”

The answer comes easily. “Around my...neck?”

“That’s right.” Jimin encourages, giving his wrists a light, comforting squeeze before letting go. He brings a hand instead up to Taehyung, touching lightly at the side of his neck. “A collar, baby. Locked right here. Do you think you’d like to wear one?”

“Do you think I’d look good?” Taehyung asks. And it’s not like that should particularly be a motivation, not when Jimin has seen him—stretched out, crying, cumming, will continue to see him like that and more in their relationship. Still, it’s a way to assuage his anxiety, ask what Jimin thinks about it. And he’s so, so kind, more than willing to reassure him.

“You’d look beautiful,” Jimin praises, brushing his thumb at the hollow of Taehyung’s throat. His lips lift ever so slightly when Taehyung visibly swallows, apple bumping against his fingers. “Pretty Taehyung, so cute with a tag on your neck. Do you think you’d like how it feels?”

“Yes,” Taehyung whispers. He’s unable to take his eyes off the screen, but his imagination’s far away, replacing the touch of Jimin’s fingers with the heady feeling of a collar locked around his neck. So obviously owned, all Jimin’s to play with.

Taehyung looks good in chokers. He knows he does, admires himself sometimes, in the mirror getting ready and after shows. And maybe Jimin has, too, looked over shoots and fantakens and thought what Taehyung had looked like. The thought makes him shiver.

“It’s got a spot for attaching clips,” Jimin continues, voice softening. “The first one comes with the handcuffs. It’d keep your hands up, if we want to attach it, right up here. May I?”

Taehyung nods again, beginning to feel a little dizzy. Jimin reaches for his wrists again, hold gentle, lifting Taehyung’s arms and bending his elbows to pose him into how the restraint would keep him, and—there’s a wave of contentment that washes over him with it, realizing what he looks like. It’s intended to be humiliating, and he feels pleasantly dumb for it, keeping his arms still where Jimin had placed them, allowed about a third of a meter away from where the collar would attach, fixed into a begging position.

“How does that feel?” Jimin asks carefully. He takes his hands away, and Taehyung holds the pose, hands curling unconsciously. They both know what it looks like.

“It’s...cute,” is the first word Taehyung finds. And it is; he just hadn’t really expected to be so affected by just the idea of being put in what’s obviously a toy for pet play, let alone go over it with Jimin so soon.

“Cute,” Jimin echoes back, either at his wording or Taehyung himself or both. “There’s other ways to play with it, too. May I open your robe? Just a little.”

Taehyung nods, feeling fuzzy. Jimin slips his fingers under the material, spreading it open with a light touch, tugging at the loosening tie just enough to expose his chest.

“The other chain attaches clamps to your nipples. Are you sensitive here?” Jimin asks clinically. He traces a finger so lightly over one. Taehyung bites his lip, thinking, and shakes his head.

“Not—Not that much,” he says. Jimin’s reassuring all the same, playing with him now, finger boring.

“That’s fine,” he says. “Means you can play more. A little rougher. See, the chain between them can attach to your collar, so you’d have to hold position and keep real still. Move your head too far, and you’d get punished for it."

It’s embarrassing, but Taehyung almost has to fight back a moan hearing that. He’s hardening all too fast in Jimin’s lap, and has a sneaking suspicion that Jimin knows, has planned for this to be Taehyung’s warmup. “I—my collar?” he repeats back. Jimin smiles, booping a finger to his nose.

“Mmhm,” he says. “You seem to like it. Would you like to buy it?”

“You’ll use it on me?” Taehyung asks, soft. “Just like how you said?”

“Of course,” Jimin promises. “Does that mean you like it?”

Taehyung licks at his lips. “Yes,” he says. “I—I like it, Jimin.”

Jimin’s only response is to kiss one of Taehyung’s still held-up wrists, before clicking add to cart on both the chain and cuffs and optional collar/clamps set. Taehyung’s stomach flips excitedly.

“You can put your hands down, if you like,” Jimin says after a moment. Taehyung blinks before flushing, hadn’t even realized he was still holding himself up—so still and perfect in Jimin’s lap, like the collar set they’re ordering.

“Thank you,” Taehyung finds himself mumbling. Jimin reaches up to run a hand over his hair, rubbing lightly at his scalp, and Taehyung leans into the touch. He’s already slipping, he knows, and Jimin’s planned it; but there’s no need to fight it, not with how safe and taken care of he feels in Jimin’s lap. He just lets his mind soften, eyelids fluttering at Jimin’s hand in his hair.

After a minute or so, Jimin drops his hand to cup Taehyung’s chin, pressure light. Taehyung glances back to the screen, then back to Jimin, shrinking a little under his gaze so intent on him. Evaluating, but Jimin thumbs gently at his lip until Taehyung relaxes again.

“How would you feel about a gag?” Jimin asks. Taehyung blinks, mouth drying.

“I’ve—thought about it,” Taehyung says honestly. Jimin seems pleased with the answer.

“Yeah?” he asks, and Taehyung nods, leaning unconsciously into Jimin’s touch. Jimin runs his thumb over Taehyung’s lip again. “What did you think about?”

“Um—” Jimin’s thumb slips close into his mouth when Taehyung speaks, and it makes him pause a moment, but Jimin makes no move to pull back. So Taehyung continues, a little stammery speaking with Jimin holding his chin. “That it’d—feel nice. Keeping my mouth open, y’know, where I couldn’t control it...that it’d feel nice, maybe look nice, too.”

He thinks he finishes a little lamely. Even beginning to slip into that half-dazed space with the way Jimin handles him, he’s not far enough gone to be shameless about it, at least not yet. That what he wants is his mouth kept full, wants to drool on himself and be unable to speak. The thought’s there, though, even if Taehyung’s not quite yet ready to voice it, and it’s hard not to squirm.

“I didn’t bring one for you today,” Jimin says, and a little disappointment throbs through Taehyung. Jimin seems to sense it, stroking Taehyung’s cheek. “I don’t share those among clients. But I think you’d look nice, too. You want one?”

Taehyung doesn’t even have to think about it, nodding small. “Yes.”

“Hm,” Jimin thinks. “Wanna prove it to me?” Taehyung blinks at him, repeating his nod. Jimin loosens his grip on Taehyung’s chin to place two fingers on his lips, quirking his head. “Can I?”

Taehyung understands immediately, and lets his mouth fall open. Jimin smiles at him when he slides his fingers in past his lips, not particularly deep or forcefully but enough to where it’s obvious he’s being played with. Contented, Taehyung lets his eyes fall shut.

“You’ve got such a pretty mouth,” Jimin praises low, and Taehyung hums. “Stick out your tongue for me?” Obediently, Taehyung does so, lapping against Jimin’s fingers. “So cute. Wanna use it.”

“Pflease,” Taehyung manages around the digits, sounding dumb. He flushes, opening his eyes, but Jimin looks endeared.

“What kind do you think you want?” Jimin swirls his fingers in Taehyung’s mouth, pressing down on his tongue. Taehyung licks sweetly, stomach buzzing. “We can get you a pretty ball to bite on, when you get overwhelmed. Get you one with a toy that’ll keep your mouth busy to practice with, like this—” Taehyung can’t help but let out a small keen at that, the mental image of how he’d look. How Jimin would look at him. “Oh, you like that? Maybe one that’ll keep your mouth open for me, ‘cos I like looking at it so much, huh? Nice and wide—” Taehyung’s obeying before Jimin finishes the sentence, but even so Jimin slips his thumb in with his fingers, gently forces apart Taehyung’s jaw clinically. Until his mouth’s open and his tongue’s lolling out against Jimin’s fingers, looking at him pleadingly. “Oh. I like that one. I can look at your cute mouth, use it how I like, huh?”

There’s no way to even attempt words, not with the way Jimin’s got his mouth pried open, so all that comes out is a needy noise deep in Taehyung’s throat. Jimin chuckles, sliding his fingers free to pat at Taehyung’s cheek, smearing his spit. Taehyung works his jaw and licks his lips, asking, “Can I get all three?”

“Can’t decide?” Jimin teases, and Taehyung grins at him, shifting on his lap. “Sure you can, baby. I’ll add ‘em in.” He hits the key, and smiles at Taehyung. “You’re playing real nice. Think you wanna get started soon?”

“Mhm,” Taehyung thinks. “Should we...go to the bedroom, or…?”

Jimin seems to consider it a moment, glancing down. “Here’s fine, if you’re comfortable. There’s carpet.”

Taehyung catches on instantly, playing with his hands in front of him and giving Jimin a coy smile. “So I’m gonna be on my knees?”

Jimin grins at him. “One thing at a time, pretty. We’ll see how you’re feeling.” He squeezes at Taehyung’s thigh. “Do you have any specific requests?”

“Not really?” Taehyung admits. “I kinda...liked going along with what you had last time. Having it be a bit of a surprise. Within my limits, of course.”

“Of course,” Jimin assures. “In that case, I have been thinking about things. Do you remember when we talked about edging?”

Taehyung hadn’t had any idea of what to expect, but it still catches him off guard. It does take a moment to remember, simply because it’d been such a quick, thoughtless comment during their phone call—he’s edged himself, but never gets very far, always gives in too easy.

“I remember,” he says. Jimin’s back to rubbing circles into Taehyung’s thigh.

“Do you?” he asks. “Do you remember how I said I’d train you?”

It’s a little fuzzy, memory of the heated instructions Jimin had given him over the phone, but he remembers enough. Jimin grins catching the glance Taehyung spares down at his thighs.

“You wanted me to...on your thighs, right?” Taehyung asks.

“Smart boy,” Jimin says, and Taehyung shivers. “Don’t worry. I’ll play with you, too.” he pauses, looking at Taehyung carefully to gauge his reaction. “Play with my toy. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes,” Taehyung answers instantly, voice breathy. “I’d—like that, Jimin.”

“Okay,” Jimin says, smiling. “Are we going with the same safe word as last time, or are we bullying Michael Kors next?”

Taehyung can’t help but giggle a little, even drifting as he is. “Don’t even speak that name to me,” and Jimin rolls his eyes. “LV, or the red. Works just fine. Especially for a hard stop.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Taehyung,” he asks seriously, “Are you saying Louis Vuitton turns you off?”

“Instant bonerkill,” Taehyung promises. “Now, please—I want this.”

“Needy,” Jimin comments, but it’s affectionate. “Open up your robe for me.”

There’s no hesitation in the motion. Taehyung’s bared often enough while changing for shoots and shows that his modesty’s minimum, and Jimin’s already seen him and done more. He slips it off his shoulders, first, before loosening the tie and tugging it off. Jimin reaches for his bag beside the couch as he does so, setting it on the seat beside them.

Taehyung had already known Jimin was working him up, but it’s another thing entirely to see the evidence rather than simply feeling it. He’s hard, and sitting in Jimin’s lap only makes matters worse, Jimin just giving him an appreciative glance before tugging on Taehyung, rearranging him in his lap.

“Face me,” Jimin says. It’s not a request. Taehyung flushes a little to turn, re-settling himself in Jimin’s lap facing him, knees on either side of Jimin’s thighs. Embarrassing, too, the way he has to bite his lip to keep from making noise when his cock brushes up against Jimin’s thigh where it’s showing under those cursed shorts. “Mm, good boy. Looks like you’re already enjoying yourself, huh?”

He’s so mean. Taehyung brings a hand up to his face to shy behind involuntarily, but Jimin tsk’s, catching his wrist. “No, baby. I wanna see you. Keep your hands down or I’ll tie them.”

“Yes, Jimin,” Taehyung replies obediently, face hot. “I—I’m just embarrassed.”

“Are you?” Jimin hums. He’s so unaffected, shuffling through his bag before tugging out what Taehyung recognizes to be lube. “S’okay, baby. I saw you looking at my thighs all day. I’m gonna take care of you now, yeah?”

“Yes,” Taehyung nods, shoving down timidity to shuffle in Jimin’s lap, stomach twisting hot to already be so ready for it, dick pressing into his goddamn bare thigh, and Jimin’s still clothed, in control of himself. It just serves to shrink him more, in such a lovely way, get him happy to feel small. Jimin is going to take care of him.

“You ready?” Jimin asks, looking up at Taehyung through his eyelashes. “I’m gonna start now, okay?”

“Please,” Taehyung manages. Jimin smiles at him.

“Now,” he begins, in a tone almost clinical. “You said you have trouble controlling yourself. So I’ll be in control today, make sure you’re taken care of. Here’s how this is going to work.” Taehyung watches Jimin nod to himself, uncapping the bottle of lube with a pop and squeezing more than enough into his hand. “I want you to feel good when you get desperate, so I’m gonna get you nice and wet to play with, alright?”

Taehyung barely has a chance to nod before Jimin’s got his hand wrapped around him, spreading lube down across. He seems to enjoy working his hand a little too much, coaxing Taehyung until his cock’s half curved up to his stomach and Taehyung’s trembling. It gets a little too good, and without thinking Taehyung circles his hips into Jimin’s fist; instantly the stimulation pauses, and Jimin slaps at his thigh. Taehyung stills instantly, blinking with wide eyes at Jimin.

“Ah-ah,” Jimin scolds. “You don’t move until I tell you to. You don’t move unless I tell you to. You know why?”

“Why’s—Why’s that?” Taehyung asks, breath hitching.

“Because,” Jimin says, so calmly. “You’re going to be my doll today, okay? My pretty little doll, gonna sit in my lap for me to play with. You can’t help yourself when you wanna come, so you’ve gotta follow my instructions, do what I say. Sound good?”

“Sounds—Sounds good, ah,” Taehyung mumbles, low keen starting in his throat at Jimin’s description. “I’m—gonna be good.”

“That’s right, babydoll,” Jimin praises, curling his hand back around Taehyung’s cock. “I want you to fuck my hand, first, okay? Gonna be so good, gonna put on a show for me.”

“Okay,” Taehyung mumbles, looking down at himself wide eyed. He hadn’t noticed it before, but Jimin’s fingers just barely curl around him; cute, but too difficult to focus on when he gives a soft squeeze. “May I—?”

“Hm,” Jimin croons. “May you what? Wanna hear you.”

Taehyung swallows, hips twitching. “May I—move?”

“Yeah? You want to?” Taehyung lifts his eyes, and Jimin’s are intent on him. He lets his mouth fall open, sees Jimin’s eyes fall to his lips. “Go ahead.”

It’s easy to rock his hips. Shamefully at first, but soon it feels too good to hold back. Easy to roll his hips, harder to hold Jimin’s gaze, but in a way it grounds him, so intent and mesmerizing watching him. It’s the last thing to be doing bashfully, and it just gets worse when Jimin teases him—

“You’re so hard,” Jimin laughs when Taehyung bites back his first cry with a bite to his lip, and praises him. “Mm, love your dick. So pretty and thick. So nice and big.”

That one’s just too much. Taehyung can’t help the little whine that slips out, and Jimin gives another evil squeeze, grinning at him.

“Oh, you liked that. Are you shy?” Jimin asks, voice dropping softer. Taehyung keens. “Is it embarrassing?”

“Yes, yes, I’m—” Taehyung lets himself moan, thighs twitching. “—‘m a mess, getting off ‘n you’re just—” There’s an obscene squelch with a particular stuttered thrust, and Taehyung gasps. “Watching me—”

“Aw, it’s okay, baby,” Jimin soothes. “Nothing to be embarrassed about. You look so pretty like this to me, did you know? Making me so happy.”

“Okay,” Taehyung mumbles, bucking up his hips and shuddering. “Jimin, I—”

“You better not come,” Jimin warns, still so sweet even with the firmer tone. Taehyung’s thrusting faster, now, little moans slipping out with each buck forward. “Still wanna play with you. You tell me when you’re close.”

“I think—” Taehyung says haltingly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I think I—”

“Stop,” Jimin orders immediately, pulling his hand off him. Taehyung cries out, hips still jerking once before halting. A shudder goes through him, more pronounced to open his eyes and see Jimin’s gaze intent on him. Heat curls in his belly, protesting the loss.

It’s worth it, though, to hear Jimin’s praise. “Good boy,” he coos when Taehyung’s completely stilled, bringing a clean hand up to touch Taehyung’s cheek. He smiles when Taehyung leans into it. “Very good. Probably could’ve gone farther, but I wanted to be safe—how’re you feeling?”

“Ah, feels—needy.” Taehyung introspects, closing his eyes, a buzz going up his spine. He’s whining. “Didn’t wanna stop, it’s...on the edge, feels disappointing…”

“If you need to stop…” Jimin murmurs. Taehyung shakes his head. “Mm. Think of it like this. Your body’s what’s disappointed, baby. Because it’s natural to want to come, to feel good, yeah?” This time, Taehyung nods. “But you’re not disappointed. Because you’re making me happy. Being good and obedient. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nuzzles into Jimin’s hand, still a little trembly. Jimin thumbs at his cheek once then runs his hand down Taehyung’s chest, calming him as he goes, working him down until Taehyung’s breathing’s returned to close to normal.

“There we go. All better now?” Jimin soothes, and flicks the head of Taehyung’s cock. He gives a little jump in Jimin’s lap, who laughs at the noise he makes. “That wasn’t too bad, was it? Do you think you can do that twice more for me?”


“Twice,” Jimin repeats. “And then I’ll let you come, okay?”

“Okay,” Taehyung mumbles. “I think I can do that.”

“I know you can,” Jimin kisses the tip of his nose, and Taehyung feels himself blush, smiling small at Jimin, nice and floaty. “Twice more, and I want you on my thighs this time. You remember what I promised when we called, right?”

“Three times,” Taehyung murmurs back. “I can do it.”

“Good boy. Sweetest.” Jimin gives Taehyung another chaste little kiss, bumping their foreheads. “You’re doing so good. I’m gonna open you up, first, okay? Give you something extra to feel, how’s that sound?”

“You mean…?” Taehyung watches curiously as Jimin reaches to search through his bag, picking back up the lube and along with it what Taehyung recognizes as a plug. “Oh. Oh.”

“Arch for me,” Jimin says once he’s coated his fingers. Taehyung’s obedient, looking for permission when he loops his arms around Jimin’s neck, and Jimin gives him a reassuring nod as he works his fingers in. Toys with him for a time, too, finding his prostate to play and leave him untouched, smiling when Taehyung squeezes his hold on Jimin. Until the slide of his fingers are replaced soon enough, cool rubber taking its place. Well under now, Taehyung feels his lips part in a mindless, stupid O, eyes glassy.

“Gonna plug you up now, okay, darling?” Jimin says. Taehyung whimpers, falling forward to bury his face into Jimin’s shoulder. “I wanna train you, baby. Get you used to being filled up, make you nice and needy. Would you like that?”

“Yes, I—ah, ah, yes,” Taehyung sighs into Jimin’s shoulder, hips stuttering as he feels Jimin circle the plug in him, pressing in.

“Yes, what?"

“Yes, I want it,” Taehyung manages, needy. “Please, please—train me, fill me up—”

“Of course,” Jimin soothes, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re so beautiful, Taehyung. So pretty and eager. Gonna be my work of art by the time I’m done with you, have you all nice and trained.”

“Please,” Taehyung mumbles again, breath coming fast. “I wanna—wanna be yours. Want you to take care of me.”

“Shh. Shhh. I am, babydoll,” Jimin presses another kiss, this time into his hair. “You’re doing so well already. Twice more, remember? Can you sit back up for me?”

Taehyung nods, face still buried in Jimin’s shoulder before taking an inhale to steady himself. Jimin smells nice, feels so nice holding him, and it’s grounding. Taehyung sits back up, sighing soft at the tug inside him. It’s not particularly large or wide, not at all, but it feels good, something to clench around and feel constantly, something Jimin gave him.

“Whenever you’re ready,” Jimin says, voice soft. Taehyung shivers, and gingerly lowers himself into Jimin’s lap, blinking down at himself. A little bit of the embarrassment is back, even as far gone as he is, because he’s a mess and Jimin’s still fully clothed and seemingly unaffected, petting Taehyung’s hip and grinning down at where Taehyung’s cock is leaking against his thigh.

It’s hard, at first. Taehyung can’t help but whine, easing the line between modesty and how good it feels, circling his hips and grinding down onto Jimin’s thigh. Not quite enough but altogether too much at the same time, only made worse when Jimin leans in to press a kiss to his chest, smiling against his skin. Taehyung whines—and then the gesture’s played against the sensation of Jimin running his nails down Taehyung’s back, just enough pressure to have him whimpering, head falling forward into Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin digs his nails and drags down light enough that there’s no danger of marks, but deep enough to leave his skin hot.

“You like that, baby? Like a bit of pain?” and Taehyung can’t help but moan, nodding as he jerks his hips forward. Jimin slides his hands lower, squeezing his ass and pressing in on the plug til Taehyung’s sure his eyes are glazed. “Look at you, rutting up on my thighs, so cute and desperate. What do you say?”

“Love it, love it, I—” Taehyung groans when Jimin smacks his hand down on the swell of his ass, and catches on instantly. “Thank you, thank you—”

“Mm, say it. Wanna hear you,” Jimin says, coming running his hands back around to soothe at Taehyung’s hips. “Be good and thank me, nice and loud. I’m letting you get off on me, tell me what I’m doing for you.”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, feeling sweat begin to bead at his forehead, words coming slow but sure. “Thank you, thank you, Jimin, I—thank you for letting me g-get off on you,” his voice almost cracks, feeling so small and flushed. He’s rocking his hips in a rhythm, now, almost riding Jimin’s thigh, face hot. “Feels so good, Jimin, thank you for letting me—”

“Good boy,” Jimin murmurs when Taehyung’s voice chokes in his throat, rubbing circles into the small of his back where it still feels reddened by scratches nice and light. “Making me so happy, giving me such a show, baby. Gonna feel so good when I let you come, ‘cos you earned it.”

“Earned it,” Taehyung repeats, stomach heaving. “Jimin, I—oh—”

“Stop,” Jimin orders. It goes against instinct but he wants to be good for Jimin so Taehyung halts, frustration swirling through him. His fingers tremble where he’s knotted them in Jimin’s shirt without realizing, moaning low as the pressure in his stomach demands he move and is denied. Jimin’s sweet to him, though, whispers praises to him Taehyung can barely catch, just nodding and panting, Jimin’s doll.

“Let me calm you down,” Taehyung hears when he’s half recovered. Jimin does the opposite, tugging Taehyung closer to him to mouth at his chest, flicking at him when Taehyung starts to shift unconsciously. “Stay still,” he scolds, kissing up to lick a stripe across Taehyung’s collarbone and bite softly into skin. “M’doing this for you.”

“Jimin—Jimin, I,” Taehyung whines nonsensically. Jimin just dicks back to flick a tongue at his nipple.

“Thought you said you weren’t sensitive,” he laughs soft, blowing air across wet skin. Taehyung whimpers. “Taking care of you so good, what do you say?”

“Thank you,” Taehyung stutters out, breath heavy.

“Oh, you’re welcome, sweetheart,” Jimin says so lightly, running his nails up and down his sides til Taehyung’s shivering and squirming. “So cute. I could play with you all day. But I promised, huh?” Taehyung nods, wetting his lips. “Once more, then you can come. Gonna feel so good then, gonna make me so happy. Let me see you now.”

This time’s even more, because Jimin’s driven him past the point of modesty. Taehyung’s shameless, now, riding Jimin’s thigh with a singleminded desperation and goddamn loud when Jimin slaps at him and sings praises over Taehyung’s own moans. Jimin’s still so unaffected, looking at him so fond until Taehyung’s vision is swimming.

“Jimin—” Taehyung chokes out, spit pooling in his mouth. “Oh, god, Jimin, I think—”

“Not yet,” Jimin says, and Taehyung cries out, the first tears hot on his lashes. “A little more.”

“Can’t—can’t, I—” Taehyung shudders, wide eyed. “Jimin, no, please, I can’t, I’m—I’m gonna—”

“I said I’m edging you, doll,” Jimin says, voice not quite cold but firm. “You can go farther. Farther for me. I’ve got you, so be a good toy for me.”

Taehyung shudders, thrusting his hips now in a steady rhythm, cock achingly hard against Jimin’s thighs. He’s panting again, head buzzing so he can barely hear himself when he manages out, “It hurts, mm, wanna come so bad—"

“Give me a word if you need it,” Jimin says, and even as the sentence is out he places a hand over Taehyung’s dick and presses down til Taehyung’s squealing.

“No, I want it, I want, I wanna—” Taehyung cuts off, sputtering as he feels himself on the cusp. “Oh—”

This time, when he says “ Stop,” Jimin grabs Taehyung’s hips in his hands and lifts him up off his lap. Taehyung sobs, hips snapping uselessly for a second, unable to completely stop but Jimin’s grip on him firm. There’d been climax rising in his stomach, he’d been so close, been right there and he knows could still come with anything, for anything, if Jimin would just let himー

“Please, please, please—” Taehyung sobs, frantic. “Please, please, m’so close please please let me come please—”

“Breathe, baby,” Jimin murmurs. “Focus on my voice. You’re here with me.”

He soothes him like that until it’s passed. Taehyung’s still shaking, even when Jimin brushes back his bangs beginning to dampen with sweat and kisses his forehead.

“I’ve got you,” he says. “I’ve got you. I’m here. Can you give me a kiss?” and oh, he wants to be good. Lip quivering, Taehyung half-leans, half-crumbles forward. He whines when Jimin plays with him still, gives him sweet chaste kisses where Taehyung mouths dumbly, wanting so much more and unable to do anything for it. Jimin holds him tight, control secure.

“There’s my good boy,” he praises when Taehyung’s calmed, breathing slowed and only slightly trembling. “Oh, look at you,” he marvels. Taehyung shudders when Jimin takes him in his hand so impartially, thumbs at the head of his cock and cooing at the noise Taehyung makes. “You’re so red, baby. All wet and teased. I’m so mean. Baby wants to come?”

Taehyung muffles a sob, nodding. “Baby wants to come,” he whispers back, face hot. “Jimin, Jiminie, please…”

“Jiminie? Oh, that’s cute,” Jimin hums. He brushes at Taehyung’s hair, before dropping his hand, playing two fingers at his lips. Taehyung parts his mouth and licks at them obediently, eyes wide and pleading at Jimin. “Love you like this. So soft and dumb, my favorite toy. You’d do anything to come now, I bet. Am I right?”

Taehyung nods desperately, sucking light on Jimin’s fingers. Jimin smiles, teases, “Or I could just leave you like this.”

At that, Taehyung can’t help but choke out a weak little cry, a pathetic “Mm-pflease,” around Jimin’s fingers. Another tear squeezes out.

“Aw, baby,” Jimin croons. “You wanna come so bad, huh? So bad you’re crying.” He leans in, kissing Taehyung’s cheek. “But I could do it, if I wanted. You know why, sweetheart?”

Taehyung shakes his head, and Jimin slides his fingers out of his mouth, wiping them on Taehyung’s cheek. “Please, don’t—W-Why?”

“Because you’re my doll today, remember?” Jimin smiles, so gentle and yet so cruel. “Maybe I wanna watch my toy cry and beg to come. What do you say to that?”

“Jimin—” Taehyung hiccups, leaning into his hand, his own spit smearing on his cheek. “Please, I—I’m your t-toy, I wanna come so bad but—only if you want, m’crying for you—”

“That’s right,” Jimin soothes, wiping at his tears. “Sweet, smart boy. But I think I’m feeling nice today. Beg me a little more, and I’ll let you come.”

“Please,” Taehyung gasps instantly, blinking back the tears that always fall so easily with desperation, mind hazy. “Please, let me come, I wanna so bad, I’ll be good—I’ll do anything—”

“Anything, huh?” Jimin tilts his head. “Would you let me hit you, get you all sore?” Taehyung nods frantically, shivering. “Let me use you? Suck me off?”

“Yes, yes, anything, please— ” Taehyung only realizes drool’s pooling on his lip when Jimin swipes at it with his thumb.

“Mm,” Jimin considers, wiping his thumb again on Taehyung’s face. “Slut.”

Sniffling, Taehyung ducks his head. He can’t help but let his eyes drift shut when Jimin reaches to card his fingers through his hair again, nails light against his scalp until he’s drifting.

“But you didn’t get your test results yet, no?” Jimin asks gently, a reminder. Taehyung cries harder.

“No, no, it was too late, I’m sorry, please, please still let me come, I’m sorry—”

Jimin shushes him. “Shh, shh. It’s fine, baby. You’re fine, you’re so good. We’re still having fun, aren’t we?” He takes Taehyung’s chin in his hands, lifting gently until Taehyung meets his eyes. “You’re okay. Still doing okay?”

Taehyung nods, blinking fast. “Green,” he whispers. “I’m fine, m’fine.”

“Good boy,” Jimin praises, kissing him just long enough that Taehyung starts to lose himself in it, in the slide of Jimin’s mouth against his so wet, keening low when Jimin pulls back to kiss the tip of his nose again. “Don’t worry, pretty baby. I’ll fuck you nice and good next time. Today you deserve to come.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung breathes, watching as Jimin reaches again for the bottle of lube. He can’t help a twitch when Jimin squeezes it out directly on his dick, cold and wet and everywhere. “Thank you, ah, thank you.”

“I’m so proud of you,” Jimin says, taking him back in his hand, smearing lube down across before taking him back in his hand. Working him this time, so that Taehyung’s buckling forward with a ragged inhale. “Did so well for me.”

Taehyung thinks his eyes might roll back a little, lip bitten raw, when Jimin touches him, properly touches him this time. He twists his hand and keeps a firm pace, paying especial attention to rolling the head of Taehyung’s cock in his palm, all of it so much that he can’t help but start to thrust his hips. Jimin stills, though, shushing him.

“Let me take care of you,” he murmurs, and Taehyung mumbles out little whines, please’ s and thank you’ s and wordless sounds of pleasure from where he’s buried his face into Jimin’s shoulder. Edged so far, it isn’t long before he’s whimpering,

“Please,” a choked whisper into Jimin’s shirt, fingers twisting in the fabric. “Please, may I—come?”

There’s a soft pressure to the side of his head as Jimin kisses his temple. “Go ahead,” he whispers back, humming appreciatively when Taehyung twitches and finally, finally spills, gasping softly. It’s everything Jimin’s promised, pleasure starting from his stomach and spreading all throughout his body down to the tips of his fingers and toes, a rubber band snapped after so long, and he can’t help the long, low, breathy moan that spills past his lips, breaking as he comes.

Taehyung’s not sure how long he recovers like that, face pressed against Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin alternates between stroking his back and his hair, praising him softly as Taehyung burrows into Jimin’s neck with a sigh. It could be two minutes, it could be twenty—at some point he blinks and raises his head, feeling warmer than he ever has.

Jimin’s smiling at him, eyes scanning over his face. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Taehyung says back, shy and still a little lost. Jimin carries on stroking his hair, adding a soft little ruffle, so Taehyung bumps his head into the touch, feeling—good. Happy in Jimin’s arms, and he lets Taehyung stay there. It’s only broken with a red hot flush of embarrassment when Taehyung looks down and realizes—

“Oh,” he babbles, face heating. Jimin glances down, and chuckles, thumbing at Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh, I’m—I’m sorry, I didn’t realize—”

Jimin just kisses him, smiling against his lips. Taehyung still can’t help but squirm, blushing hard. He’d been so far, still is so under that in the moment he hadn’t even realized he’d come on Jimin’s shirt. Taehyung whines a protest into his mouth, embarrassed.

“It’s okay,” Jimin says, cupping Taehyung’s face between his hands. Taehyung looks at him still, eyes widened with drying tears, even through the pout Jimin squishes his cheeks into. “You’re so cute. It’s fine, really.”

“Are you—are you sure? I can buy you another. I will buy you another. Ten more—” Taehyung curls in on himself as best he can. Jimin shushes him with another kiss.

“It’s fine,” Jimin empathizes, patting his cheek as he scolds. He arches an eyebrow at Taehyung, smirk playful. “Just means I have to take my shirt off now, hm?”

Taehyung feels more than lets his mouth fall open. “I—I guess so,” he says, leaning back as Jimin straightens up. Jimin makes a show of undoing the buttons down his chest, grinning when he pushes aside the last few and catches Taehyung’s eyes on him. He shrugs off the shirt, tossing it to the floor. Taehyung doesn’t even realize he’s biting his lip until Jimin reaches back up to thumb at it.

“Still with me?”

“Mhm,” Taehyung nods, certain his eyes are stars. Jimin’s every bit as glorious as that first picture had been, a thousand times more so in person and close enough to touch, something he wants so badly. “Can I—touch you?”

Jimin chuckles, and reluctantly Taehyung drags his eyes up to his.

“You wanna touch me, baby?” he teases. “Where?”

Anywhere, is the honest answer, but Taehyung bites his lip. “Your chest,” he says, the words half twisting into a question at the end. Jimin just tilts his head with a humored smile, taking Taehyung’s wrist in his hand and moving his hand close to his chest. Doesn’t move to make him touch, but close enough to, giving Taehyung the choice.

“All yours, pretty." 

With an invitation like that, Taehyung can’t help but beam at him, splaying his hand flat to Jimin’s chest. Jimin gives him a nod when Taehyung looks up with the unspoken question, so with the permission Taehyung runs his hand down Jimin’s chest to his stomach and back up again, skin smooth and warm beneath his hand. Jimin hums.

“How are you feeling?” Jimin asks after a minute, voice soft.

Taehyung thinks. He’s thinking more clearly now the edge of desperation’s taken off, but he’s still light, wants to stay feeling small and held secure, doesn’t quite want to go back to being himself just yet. Back to being a person, no matter how it sounds. He gives an answer as honest as he can manage.

“I feel...good,” he says. “My head’s, don’t know how to say it. But I’m happy.”

“That’s good,” Jimin says back, soft. “You’re so good. I’m happy, too, to hear that.” Taehyung matches his smile back, glowing to hear the praise, that Jimin’s happy with him. He runs another circle around Jimin’s chest with his fingers. “You wanna play more?”

Taehyung shivers at that, squirming a little on Jimin’s lap. “...’m not sure I can come again, after that,” he confesses. One corner of Jimin’s mouth twists up, Taehyung ducking his head sheepishly. “But I don’t wanna stop yet?’s kinda hard to say, it’s embarrassing, a little weird, but I don’t wanna...go back just yet.”

Clicking his tongue, Jimin surprises Taehyung with a gentle flick to his forehead, scolding. “Nothing’s weird or embarrassing. We can play more if you like, however you like. I’ll do what you want, angel.”

Taehyung drops his eyes back down, considering. Jimin says it with such concern, so genuinely, it’s impossible to doubt him. And he knows what he wants, has it confirmed again with the little sigh Jimin gives him when Taehyung traces his nails over the lines of his stomach.

“I wanna...if I can. I wanna see you,” Taehyung says, shy. He’s almost afraid to look back up, but Jimin taps a finger to the underside of his chin, scanning his face. And it’s almost surprising, so close, to see the desire plain on Jimin’s face for the first time—he’s been hard, and Taehyung’s felt it, but he’s so in control he’d never know otherwise. Now, however, Jimin’s looking at Taehyung like he’s everything he wants and more. Taehyung wants to be more.

“That so?” Jimin asks, slow. Breathless, Taehyung nods, and easily Jimin shifts Taehyung on his lap, smiling at the near purr that comes from Taehyung to be so well handled. Jimin slides his hand back down to cup Taehyung’s ass, squeezing playfully. “You wanna see me get off, huh? See how bad you get to me?”

“Please,” Taehyung tries not to beg. Jimin catches the tone anyway, eyes dreamy as he looks over him with that grin before ducking back to kiss squarely above Taehyung’s heart, lips full and wet. Sighing, Taehyung tips his head back, only jumping with a small yelp when Jimin’s reverent kiss twists into a playful nip at him. “Please—”

“Yeah, I can do that,” Jimin murmurs against him, letting his breath fan hot to Taehyung’s chest. “I’d love that, baby. Pretty baby, so good for me. You gonna let me play with you?”

“Please,” Taehyung says again, dazed to hear the desire apparent in Jimin’s voice. “Please, I’ll be good—n’ pretty, your...your toy,” he lets slip again, squirming, feeling so wonderfully light. “Tell me how you want me.”

Jimin hums low in appreciation, craning his neck to give him a final kiss. It’s all control, taken and given, Jimin sucking Taehyung’s tongue into his mouth to play and licking soft at his lips until Taehyung’s whining stupid when he pulls back, voice a bit rasped. “On the floor for me. Hands and knees, so I can see you.”

Taehyung feels his mouth stretch wide, giddy, tries and fails to catch his breath. “Knew you—ah, wanted to see me on my knees.” He can’t help another jump and yelp when in response Jimin lifts and brings the hand on his ass back down in a solid smack.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin says, and the look he gives him is deep, appreciative. “You have no idea.”

With a shiver of excitement, Taehyung slides off Jimin’s lap. It’s not something he’s used to, a bit anti instinctual to prop himself on his hands and knees perpendicular to Jimin and hold the pose, but it feels nice, something he thinks he’d like to get used to. Taehyung glances up at Jimin, who’s reaching for the previously abandoned water, taking a sip with eyes fixed down on him—and then Taehyung can’t help a gasp when Jimin places the tumbler on his back, giving him a grin.

“That’s a good doll,” Jimin murmurs, sliding a hand down the small of Taehyung’s back. He taps the plug when he gets to it, chuckling at the way Taehyung starts. “Careful, baby. You gotta stay real still while I play with you, or you’re gonna spill, huh?”

Taehyung can’t help the whine that slips out, chill of the glass settling so nicely against the heat of his back where Jimin had ran his nails earlier. Jimin seems similarly fascinated, tracing his fingers lightly before his touch disappears and Taehyung hears him sifting back through his bag. Curiously Taehyung tries to look over his shoulder, finds he can’t quite see, can’t twist far enough, but it just adds to the anticipation. Jimin’s kind enough to show him, anyway, though he teases him first:

“I wanna try something with you,” Jimin offers. And Taehyung’s faced away, head beside Jimin’s knee, but Jimin’s kind enough to show him. The object itself is so mundane it takes a moment for Taehyung to focus, simple wooden clothespins. “You know what this is, right?”

Taehyung nods.

“Well,” Jimin says, smile in his voice, tapping it to Taehyung’s bared shoulder. “There’s a few ways to play. A simple object, really, but you can make anything play... or a punishment, if you’re creative. Some people like getting these pinned on them, you know?” Before Taehyung can answer, he’s sliding his hand down and across Taehyung’s chest, so intimately he wonders if Jimin can feel his heartbeat speeding. “Places where you’re sensitive. They’ve got such a nice pressure, they’re perfect for hurting so good.”

“Jimin—” Taehyung whines. Jimin makes a noncommittal noise, picking the tumbler back up for a sip and placing it back on Taehyung’s back. He bows his head, panting soft, feeling so wonderfully used, just a prop for Jimin to play and get off with.

“You’ve been good today, though, haven’t you?” Jimin asks. Taehyung nods his head devotedly. “I think so, too, baby. Playing along so well, just look at you. No, I thought instead... I wanna see baby’s tongue out. Keep that pretty mouth open.”

Jimin doesn’t even need to finish the sentence; Taehyung’s got his mouth opened, tongue poking out cutely. “Please,” he says, trembling. “Please, I wanna.”

“Oh, that’s cute,” Jimin murmurs, tipping Taehyung’s chin up. “So, so sweet. My good baby. Stick your tongue out for me. I wanna see you drool.”

Taehyung shudders. Jimin focuses on him when he clips the pin, clinical even as Taehyung looks up at him with pleading eyes. It stings, tighter than expected, but tolerable, and it feels good, dumb, forced to keep his tongue hanging out sitting at Jimin’s feet. Already he’s trying to swallow back spit, but knows it’s useless, knows just as much as Jimin he’s going to make a mess of himself again and can’t wait for it.

“That feel okay?” Jimin asks, running a hand over Taehyung’s hair, petting lightly at him. Taehyung fights back a groan as Jimin lifts his legs, rests them atop Taehyung's back, perfectly humiliating. Making it clear: he's an object in this scene, something to sit pretty as Jimin poses and uses him. He's Jimin's toy, and drool pools on his lips, arousal curling back heavy in his gut.

Jimin spanks him when he doesn't answer, and Taehyung nods fiercely. Jimin hums, setting his legs back down after taking another sip from the tumbler. Once seated again Jimin reaches lets his hand run down Taehyung's back, tracing his nails until he’s tugging at the plug. Taehyung gets the hint, relaxing, and swallows back a moan when Jimin almost completely slides it out of him before working it back in. “How’s this? Gonna let me play with you?”

A groan slips out this time. “Please, for you—” Taehyung cranes his neck when he catches Jimin undoing the front of his shorts. He slips himself out easily, and Taehyung thinks his mouth’s already watering, watching Jimin play his fingers along himself. He’s so blank, already and again, but knows enough to know he wants.

In a second, though, Taehyung’s too distracted to focus, shaking forward when Jimin starts working the plug against his rim once more. He feels the weight of the water in the tumbler sway and stills, shaking bad to hold pose while Jimin buries his fingers back in him.

“Gotta be careful,” Jimin cautions, no less distracted from his task of taking Taehyung apart for the warning. “Hold still for me.”

“F-Fuck,” Taehyung mumbles around the pin, expletive twisting into a whimper as Jimin circles the plug before pressing it back in. Jimin laughs, the sound bordering on breathless.

“Watch your mouth, angel,” he scolds. Taehyung’s twisting his neck again, feels his eyes comically wide with want to watch Jimin pump his fist on himself, wants him, even more so when Jimin murmurs low to himself: “Gonna fill your mouth up next time for sure, if you’re gonna start whining.”

Of course he whines again at that, low and dumb, can’t help it. It’s too good, degrading and perfect, on his knees before Jimin and having to hold still and take the toying—Jimin playing with him, just as he’d promised. Taehyung’s not even surprised to feel interest building despite what he’d said, the psychological appeal of the situation overruling physical exhaustion. He could come again, and he’s salivating for it now, getting worse and worse at swallowing spit and letting his tongue hang free. Taehyung tries around it, slurring,

“D’you like me?” pitiful, he wants to rock his hips, anything. Jimin gets the hint, steadying into a rhythm, matching his own strokes to it. “I’m good? You like me?”

“So much, babydoll,” Jimin promises, a hypnotic murmur. “I’ve thought so much about this. About you. Fuckin’ wet dream, made to look so good on your knees. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

He’s panting. It’s shamefully obvious, tongue hanging out of his mouth and every part of him Jimin’s to play with. “M’yours,” Taehyung swears back, dazed. “I wanna be—ah, there—yours, please—”

“Yeah, I’d say I like you,” is Jimin’s response, more to himself than Taehyung. “I like you, and I like to be in control. I like to wreck pretty things like you and make them mine, are you gonna be mine?”

Taehyung can’t bother to mask his moans anymore, hips twitching, wanting to rock himself back so badly. Jimin's found a pace to work him at, and Taehyung forgets to swallow, feels his chin wet with his own spit, crying out. “J-Jimin, ‘m—”

"What, you're coming again?" Jimin snickers, and observes, “Thought you said you couldn’t."

Shaking harder, all Taehyung can manage— “Please, I can, I wanna, please—”

“Greedy,” Jimin comments. “My doll wants to come again, before me.”

“Please,” Taehyung whimpers. “You—You like me, y’said, and m’being good, being yours.”

“Hm,” Jimin considers. He gives himself another pump before reaching to run his hand down Taehyung’s oversensitive cock. Taehyung’s hips give a jump despite himself, freezing when Jimin reaches to catch the tumbler, setting it back and swatting his ass. “I said hold fucking still. You spill that and I won’t let you come.”

“I can—I can?” is all Taehyung hears, the confirmation of it. Jimin slips the plug out, and Taehyung almost cries at the loss, until Jimin's working his fingers back in instead, spreading them for a stretch that has his nerves responding with pleasure.

Finally, Jimin’s answer comes as a drawl. “You have ten seconds," he decides. "Wasn’t a problem for you our last session.”

He makes it to three, frantic at Jimin’s count and burning hot at the humiliation, unsure if he’d let him come if Taehyung missed the deadline—but he comes desperately soon enough, Jimin catching it in his hand while he’s circling his fist around the head. Crudely, Jimin wipes his hands off on Taehyung’s back with a hum, picking the tumbler back up to drain the glass before setting it aside.

“Good boy,” Jimin praises low. Taehyung almost doesn’t hear it, finding it hard to focus with the way his head’s buzzing, but attuned enough to Jimin it makes it through. “What do you say?”

“Thank you, I'm—thank you,” Taehyung mumbles. He watches blearily as Jimin touches himself again, tipping his head back attractively with a bite of his lip, opening his eyes to look down at Taehyung with lidded appreciation.

“Where do you want my cum?” Jimin asks lazily.

“Hmfm?” Taehyung tries around the pin, tongue hanging limp and lips wet.

“Stomach or back, sweetheart.”

Oh, fuck. “S-Stomach—” he manages. Jimin gestures, and Taehyung rolls quickly, trembling limbs thankful when he settles into a sitting position, legs spread and his chest heaving. Looks up at Jimin devotionally, and it doesn’t take long. Jimin’s gorgeous when he comes, Taehyung unable to look away, from the way he smiles beatific and moans long in his throat. The sound’s entrancing, Taehyung’s eyes wide because he’s affecting Jimin, too; can’t help but giggle softly at the streak of white on his stomach, pretty against his tanned skin, feeling used and of use.

“Beautiful,” Jimin breathes out, their eyes meeting again. He leans down to dip his fingers, swirling and smearing his cum on Taehyung’s stomach, watching him twitch. “So beautiful, so good. C’mere, baby.”

Jimin more lifts him than lets Taehyung find his footing, pulling him up and back into his lap. He reaches and unclips the clothespin from Taehyung's tongue, tugging him in for a kiss before Taehyung can swallow back the spit. Practically coos at him— “Baby,” he pecks his lips again, “How’re you feeling?”

“Good, so—so good,” Taehyung sighs, bumping their foreheads. “Mm, was I good?”

“The best,” Jimin says, running his hands down Taehyung’s side to thumb at his hips. “The best, the best, so good, so perfect, Taehyung. Let me take care of you now, okay?”

“Okay,” Taehyung says, repeating it with a giggle when Jimin rubs their noses together. “Okay.”

“Mm, I’ve got wipes here,” Jimin says, reaching for his bag. “Unless you’re up for showering now?”

Taehyung thinks, and then pouts at him, shaking his head. “Mm, m’sleepy. Floating. Just wanna cuddle.”

Jimin laughs, kissing the tip of his nose. “You’re gonna regret that later,” but reaches to pop open a case of wipes, anyway, setting to cleaning the both of them up. Taehyung sighs happily when Jimin works on him, takes care of him like he promised, feeling so perfect and light. “Alright. Let’s see that fancy redesigned bedroom, huh?”

Before Taehyung can move to stand, Jimin’s shifting him on his lap, sliding his hands underneath Taehyung’s thighs and hoisting him up easily. It’s easy, natural, and Taehyung loops his arms around Jimin’s neck, cuddling tight with a laugh— “Hall to the right,” he says, kissing at his shoulder when he starts to walk. “Your other right, Jimin.”

“You mean my left,” Jimin chides, turning his face to blow a puff of air at him. Taehyung yelps, flicking back at him and burying his face in Jimin’s shoulder. “You’re such a sweetheart, afterwards. I almost like it more than playing with you.”

“You should like me always,” Taehyung mumbles into his neck, drowsiness washing over him with a contented sigh. “I’m good.”

“You are,” Jimin assures with a chuckle. The bedroom door’s left open, so he slips them inside, looking around appreciatively before laying Taehyung down and tucking him in, then crawling into bed beside him. “Silk sheets, huh? Nice.”

“I like them,” Taehyung says back, stretching out his arms. Jimin falls back into them easily, smiling at him.

“You don’t want me to get anything?” Jimin asks, even as he settles down in beside him, kicking off his shorts. “We could watch something, I can order food…”

“Later,” Taehyung sighs. “Just talk, now. Come snuggle with me.”

Jimin wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist easily, tugging him close and as tightly as Taehyung’s got him. “You’re such a cuddler,” he teases, kissing Taehyung’s hair. “My pretty baby.”

“Mm, your baby,” Taehyung says back, soft. “Don’t wanna think yet. Please—hold me.”

“Alright,” Jimin assures, stroking at his hair. Gentle, he gives Taehyung’s forehead a kiss.

They talk for a while, even then. Taehyung doesn’t mean to sleep, honestly starts wishing to stay awake, but he’s so comfortable curled up with Jimin that half the fight is keeping his eyes open. He knows when it’s happening, at least, when he’s at the point of no return; Jimin seems to know, too, letting the conversation lull and running his hands through Taehyung’s hair.

They fall asleep like that. Holding Jimin in his arms, Taehyung sleeps easy, whispering a final thanks to him before drifting off. The last thing he feels is a kind kiss.






Chapter Text





“Why don’t you count for me?”

The order comes just before the hit. Taehyung’s bent over Jimin’s lap on his own sofa, arms bound behind his back, long since unclothed and already a mess. It’s humiliating to think of the sight he must make; ass stuck in the air and reddening, probably getting a spot on Jimin’s nice tailored pants barely a week after gifting them, because Jimin’s delighted in finding that spanking gets Taehyung just so goddamn wet.

The order, because that’s what it is, really, not a suggestion at all. Taehyung’s breath comes heavy, cheek pressed into the leather of the divan as he cranes his neck to look back and up at Jimin. It’s not the first hit; Jimin’s proven himself just as skilled in this area of play as he has in others, spending time on a massage and light slaps to warm him up steadily. He’d explained it to Taehyung, sweetly, that it’d ease him into it and get the blood flowing, make it more pleasurable. However, the last few have hit harder, the warmup over, and Taehyung asks to clarify, “Start at one?”

Jimin considers a moment before affirming, rubbing circles into the heated skin with his knuckles. “We’ll go to ten,” he decides, the casual tone of his voice a stark contrast to the way he gropes at Taehyung’s ass, squeezing. “Ready?”

“Yes, sir,” Taehyung replies dreamily. Approval flashes in Jimin’s eyes.







It’d been an easy conversation, though Taehyung had been so anxious beforehand. He hadn’t really thought about it much before, so nervous just to meet and play for their first time that he hadn’t focused on it. But a few sessions later, working their way up to harder play and becoming attuned to and trusting each other, Taehyung had started to think about it and finally brought up:

“How do you feel know, titles,” he’d asked. Jimin had looked up at him curiously, cheeks comically puffed out from where he’d just been shoveling takeout into his mouth. Taehyung couldn’t help but snort at the sight, Jimin kicking at him under the table as he chewed and finally swallowed.

“You mean…” Jimin thinks a moment, blinking. “Are we talking like movie titles? Because I have some pretty strong opinions about a few badly named dramas.”

It’s Taehyung’s turn to kick out at Jimin, groaning. “No, I mean...y’know, like. Calling the dom a name.”

“You mean like master, or sir, or something else like that?” Jimin asks calmly. He’s always so easily analytical, and thoughtful, too, evaluating Taehyung’s desires. Taehyung nods.

“I was wondering how you felt about them,” Taehyung repeats, biting his lip a little anxiously. Jimin’s eyes fall to the motion.

“I’m fine with them,” he says, pushing his food around a moment before picking up another bite. Taehyung waits for him to chew and swallow, poking at his own plate. “You hadn’t mentioned it before, so I figured I’d let you ease into it. Which you just did.” He pauses. “Unless you’re just interested in general?”

Taehyung shakes his head quickly. “No, I’m interested. Like, specifically in using them—if you are?”

Jimin’s smile is sweet as ever. “It’s about what you like, Taehyung,” he scolds like he has so many times before, but seems to consider it, because Taehyung’s made it apparent it’s something he worries about: “But if there’s truly ever something I can’t do, I’ll talk about it. Consent goes both ways, you know? I’ll tell you if I can’t do something for you. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Taehyung shifts, grateful for his reassurance. He clarifies, shyly, “So you don’t think it’s weird?”

“Not at all,” Jimin says, reaching to pat at his hand. “S’very normal, I’ve done it lots. One time someone even wanted to call me God. ...Actually, that one...was a little weird. Fucked with my ego a bit too much, I think.” He squints, looking upward, before shaking his head. “But my point is, it’s about you, okay?” Taehyung chuckles at the tangent, and turns his palm upward. Jimin gets the hint, lacing their fingers and giving a comforting squeeze. “I can allow a lot before I’m uncomfortable.”

“God,” Taehyung can’t help but giggle a little. “God? Well. Sorry to be vanilla, but that’s not quite what I was thinking of.”

Jimin gives him a toothy smile, pulling his hand back to lean back in his seat, cocking his head. “Yeah?” he asks. “Let’s hear it.”

Taehyung swallows, finds he has to avert his eyes. He takes a breath to brace himself. “I wanted to try...sir?” he manages, hating the instant rush of blood to his cheeks despite Jimin’s encouragement. “I don’t know about, like, always. Just maybe a thing to try sometimes. And I know it’s a little weird, we’re the same age and all, but—”

“Taehyung,” Jimin interrupts the beginning of his ramble. He leans back forward again when Taehyung meets his eyes, soothing. “It’s fine. We can try that whenever you think you’re ready, and see how you feel, okay? No pressure either way.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says, taking his hand back when Jimin offers it. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” Jimin says. “Now c’mere. Wanna give my baby a kiss before I head out.”







He’d given him a lot more than a kiss, then, both of them worked up a little too quickly when Taehyung had slid into Jimin’s lap. When Taehyung had come in Jimin’s hand he’d tried a whispered, quiet thank you, ...sir, Jimin giving him a soft smile and pecking his lips.

Back in Jimin’s lap again now, albeit in a wholly different position, Taehyung presses his cheek back into the sofa.

“O-One,” Taehyung stammers out, jumping a little in surprise at the new intensity of the hit. Jimin gives him a moment before he does it again: “Two,” and Taehyung licks his lips after, an anxious comfort. It’s painful but good, a pleasant heat and ache that doesn’t have a chance to recover before Jimin spanks him again, again, again. At seven Taehyung can’t help but let loose a groan, wiggling a little, when Jimin drags his nails across the sensitive skin and laughs.

“Keep counting,” Jimin warns, continuing in quick succession. Taehyung’s head and vision are already swimming, unsure what throbs more; his ass under Jimin’s hands or how desperately hard he can feel himself becoming as he babbles the numbers. Ten comes too soon.

“Good boy,” Jimin murmurs, left hand coming up to thumb at Taehyung’s lip. Taehyung glows at the praise. “Tongue out.”

Obedient, Taehyung lets his mouth fall open, tongue poking out. Jimin hums, wasting no time in sliding two fingers in past his lips, and it’s almost instinctive to want to lick at them cutely; but they’ve been playing more with orders, and Jimin hasn’t given permission. So he stays still, doesn’t move without Jimin’s approval, keeps his tongue still and lips parted for Jimin to play with.

He doesn’t keep Taehyung waiting long. “Suck,” Jimin tells him, and gratefully Taehyung closes his mouth, sucking sweetly and lapping his tongue light against Jimin’s fingers. “Good,” Jimin says, sounding pleased.

He brings his right hand back to spank Taehyung again. Pauses for a moment after, and then suddenly Jimin’s grabbing Taehyung’s hair and yanking his head back, fingers digging deeper in his mouth almost to the point of gagging him.

“Did I say you could stop counting?”

Taehyung whines stupidly, a plea, licking needy at Jimin’s fingers.

“What? Your stupid mouth full?” Taehyung gags, already knowing what Jimin wants—to humiliate him, get Taehyung drooling and struggling to speak in Jimin’s lap. He’s more than happy to oblige, managing out a muffled, affirmative, “Mmfm—”

“You can multitask, I’m sure,” Jimin says, letting go of his hair. His nails dig back into the swell of Taehyung’s ass where the flesh is already stinging hot from being hit. “Start the count over.”

This time there’s been enough of a pause that the ache is starting to settle in, skin smarting and mind fogging. It doesn’t stop Jimin from spanking him twice as hard, though, Taehyung whimpering out the numbers as best he can around Jimin’s fingers, mustering all his self control not to squirm and rut down into Jimin’s lap. One, six, ten, seventeen—until Taehyung’s lost in his own head, squirming and babbling out the count as the only thing he knows, the beginning of tears squeezing out his eyes. He’s never been spanked before, and it’s shrinking, the position alone bent over Jimin’s lap making him feel so small as he can do nothing but take it with a count.

Jimin calls him back, though, always does. “Baby,” he calls, tone just bordering on soft but still clear, when they hit thirty. Taehyung sniffles, twisting back to look up at Jimin, who slides his fingers out of Taehyung’s mouth, spit smearing on his cheek. His right hand massages lightly, soothing smarting flesh. “How’s it feel?”

Taehyung’s nodding before Jimin even finishes, cheek rubbing into the leather of the sofa. “Good,” he says. “M’good, it’s—am I good?”

“You’re perfect,” Jimin praises. He traces a finger down Taehyung’s spine, smiling to watch his shiver. “You’re so lovely and red, baby. Fuck. Wish you could see yourself. Does it sting?”

Taehyung nods again, squeezing his eyes shut. A remnant tear squeezes out. “Yes. Yes.”

“Good,” Jimin hums, flashing him a toothy grin. “I’ll take good care of you later. Get some ice and lotion, lots of kisses, that sound nice?” Taehyung hums happily. “Thought so. I wanna play with you a bit more, now, though. That alright?”

“Please,” Taehyung begs, jerking and unable to suppress a yelp when Jimin spanks him again. “Sir. Sir. Please, sir.”

“I’m gonna roll you over now,” Jimin says, trailing a finger down, pressing the pad into his perineum. Taehyung sighs softly. “I’ll help you, ‘cos you can’t on your own, huh? Hm,” he answers for himself, smiling. “It’d be cute to see you try, but you’re already soaking my goddamn pants.”

Taehyung’s face burns hot at that. Without a care Jimin snakes his arms under him, helping Taehyung up and rolling him on his lap, a half-sitting position for laying him back down, lower half elevated on Jimin’s lap. He wiggles his fingers, whimpering to look at himself. Jimin wastes no time in touching him, always so skilled at making him feel messy and small with the way he trails a clinical finger, rolling precum down.

“Oh, you are enjoying yourself, hm?” Taehyung nods, blinking at him and panting soft. It’s so tempting to buck upward, show Jimin how badly he wants to be touched properly, but Jimin already knows always knows, and it gets him off to leave Taehyung wanting. “Look at you. All thick and dripping for me.” He digs a nail into Taehyung’s slit, looking at him with a grin when Taehyung’s hips jump, eyes crinkling. Deviously, he coos, “My sweet boy. Big dick baby. Took your spanking so nicely, pretty baby, my baby. I think I want you on your knees before I touch you, that sound good?”

“Mhm, mm, please,” Taehyung begs, face burning with Jimin’s descriptions. “Please, m’so hard, I’ll do anything. Sir.”

“Anything, huh?” Jimin smiles, cocking his head. Taehyung shrinks at his expression, but nods again. “Gonna put you on your knees now, okay? Silly thing, can’t even move on your own.”

Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut in humiliation, but relaxes into the touch when Jimin circles arms around him, helping Taehyung slide down onto the ground before him. On his knees proper, Taehyung blinks up at Jimin devotedly, arms still bound tight behind him.

“You always look so good like this,” Jimin sighs, running a hand over Taehyung’s hair and giving him a fond smile. Taehyung returns the expression, throat swelling thick with happiness.

“Thank you, sir.”

“You said anything, right?” Jimin asks, recalling in a musing voice like it’s so hard to remember, like the evidence isn’t kneeling before him. “What do you want to do for me?”

Taehyung shivers, racking his empty mind. There’s too much. “Anything,” he repeats, whining now. The urge to inch forward, let his dick brush Jimin’s pant leg or the bottom of the sofa, anything for stimulation, is overwhelming, but imagining Jimin’s punishment keeps him in place. “Anything, please, anything.”

“Hm,” Jimin questions. “You can’t think of anything?” Taehyung hesitates, then shakes his head, ducking it shamefully. “I’m sorry, am I boring you? You think you could rut against anything and be satisfied as good?”

“No,” Taehyung gasps instantly, fearfully, a fierce shake of his head. “No, n-no, sir, m’just—” he shudders, drawing shoulders in close and low. “Can’t—I just can’t—”

“Think?” Jimin guesses, rolling his shoulders. He smiles down at Taehyung’s shameful nod, reaching down to grip his face between forefinger and thumb, pressing in on his cheeks. It’s another thing Taehyung’s observed; Jimin loves him in subspace, had explained to him how much he likes being in control. “You feeling empty up here, baby? You need me to help you?”

“Please,” Taehyung pleads again, another tear squeezing out. Jimin wipes at it impartially with his thumb. “Please, sir, I’m—empty, empty and yours, I need you to—to tell me what to do. ‘n I’ll do it, I’m yours—please.”

Jimin considers, eyes scanning Taehyung’s face. “That so?” he says, slow. “You want me to give you orders? Use you? That’s what you want?”

Is it. Taehyung whines low in his throat, blinking at Jimin to convey it— “Please,” he repeats, a whisper, softer though every bit as desperate, needing to prove to Jimin he knows what he wants, through the subspace and all. “Please use me. S’what I want. Want. Green. Green, go, just, please, Jimin, sir, please.”

Jimin’s lips twitch in a smile at the outpouring, tugging Taehyung’s face closer to press a kiss to his forehead. “Cute. Oh, baby. Yes, I’ll tell you—see, what I’m thinking is if you wanna be played with, want me to get you off, you have to earn that, don’t you?” he lets go of Taehyung’s face, but stays close, pressing his thumb into Taehyung’s bottom lip when he nods. “So I’m thinking we could put that pretty mouth of yours to good use. How does that sound?”

Taehyung’s lips part, breath catching. Unconsciously his tongue darts out to lick at his lips, Jimin’s eyes tracking the movement. “Yes,” he breathes. “Please, yes. I want—wanna suck you off.”

“Yeah?” Jimin raises an eyebrow, teasing. “You think you deserve that? My cock in your mouth?”

Taehyung bites his lip, leaning closer, tipping his chin up. Begging. “Can I—Can I prove it?”

Jimin hums a moment, considering, fingers running through Taehyung’s hair. “Sure,” he says finally. “I love using your mouth.”

Taehyung can’t help a shuddery exhale at that. Jimin slides forward on the sofa until he’s sitting at the edge, palming himself through the material, Saint Laurent gabardine Taehyung had bought him on an impulse after a particularly mindblowing session with a vibrating cock ring. Taehyung can see the imprint of him now and realizes with a shiver Jimin’s not wearing underwear. Then Jimin’s tugging down the hem, and Taehyung can’t help but nearly drool, leaning forward instinctively, mouth open—only to shy back when Jimin fists a hand in Taehyung’s hair, tugging him away.

“Ah-ah,” Jimin clicks his tongue. “Not yet. Convince me.”

Taehyung whines, low and needy. “P-Please? ...Please?”

“That’s all?” Jimin raises an eyebrow after waiting a second. “You don’t seem to want it very much. If it’s all the same to you, I could get myself off right here, if it’d be better than your mouth...” Taehyung can’t help but let out a sound of despair at that, shaking his head even though it pulls at his hair. He’s lost enough that pain is dull and he craves it. “Aw, don’t cry, baby. I’d still use your face. I’ve gotta come somewhere, right?”

“Please—” Taehyung chokes out, curling his fists, spit pooling in his mouth. “Please, I—I want it. I want it, I’ll be good and—I want to make you feel good. You make me feel so good, so I wanna help you, too…”

“Oh?” Jimin hums. “That’s sweet. You’re so good for me, Taehyung. My pretty little thing, all mine when we play, is that right?” Taehyung swallows, nodding in approval. None too gently, Jimin drags him closer, hand in his hair. Closer, but just out of reach, an inch or so from  Taehyung’s face. He understands right as Jimin gives him the command, smiling fondly down at him.

“Prove you want it. Try and reach, sweetheart.”

It’s both perfect and humiliating. Jimin just grins at how helplessly Taehyung looks up at him before surrendering—Jimin’s grip in his hair is firm, and won’t budge an inch, so he’s reduced to mouthing dumbly, stretching his tongue out as far as he can make it and still it’s not enough. He licks desperately, crying, just barely able to flick his tongue across the head. It’s torturous.

Jimin’s an average length and so, so thick, the kind where Taehyung can already feel his mouth stretched wide and he wants it, wants Jimin’s dick dripping in his mouth and bulging nicely against his cheek. Wants to be used, used by Jimin, wants Jimin to feel as good as he makes Taehyung and to come down his throat. What he wants, but Jimin delights in making him work for it, and so that’s what he’s forced to do, pulling against the hold on his hair to strain his tongue until his lips and chin are a messy wet and there’s fresh tears in his eyes.

Jimin’s voice comes as a croon. “This is what you’re good for, huh? Look at you on your knees, crying for my cock. Licking out like a goddamn dog.” Taehyung’s cry is strangled, lurching just far enough to wrap his lips around before being cruelly yanked back once more. “Oh, doll. My best pet. You’re just my pretty little slutty baby.”

“Yours,” Taehyung tries, nodding along desperately, lip quivering. “M’your—slutty baby,” he manages, squeezing his eyes shut to repeat it back, cock twitching when the humiliation burns so hot on his cheekbone. He only opens them when Jimin’s hand cups his chin, then, tilting his face up. Taehyung blinks open his eyes at him blearily, tongue still poking out because he’s good.

“I called you more than that,” Jimin murmurs, stroking his thumb on Taehyung’s cheek. “Don’t you think you’re pretty?”

“I—I mean—” Taehyung bites his lip, trembling. Jimin loosens his grip in Taehyung’s hair, room enough to allow his shrug but tight enough to remind him he’s still not allowed despite how badly he wants it, not yet.

Of course he knows. It’d be strange not to considering the magazine spreads, billboards and more he’s plastered across. But it’s one thing to have that knowledge and another entirely to say it on his knees, tied, crying and making a mess. Yet Jimin doesn’t seem satisfied with the modesty of the answer, clicking his tongue.

“Well,” he says. “You are. You must know it. So pretty, so gorgeous like this for me. I want to hear you say it.”

“Say I’m—pretty?” Taehyung clarifies. Jimin smiles, nails digging into his scalp when he pushes down lightly, making Taehyung give a slow, puppeteered nod of his head.

“Mhm. What I called you.”

“I’m your—” Taehyung swallows, trembling. Jimin gives him the moment, thumb working a soothing circle on his jaw. After a breath he manages with a mumble, “Your pretty...slutty baby. I’m pretty. Pretty for you.”

“There you go,” Jimin murmurs. “That’s right, beautiful. You’re a goddamn work of art. I’m proud of you.” his smile turns crooked. “Still want my dick?”

“Yes,” Taehyung groans, hips circling uselessly. “Please, yes.”

“Oh,” Jimin says finally, fond. “All right.”

He makes no move to loosen his grip in Taehyung’s hair. Instead of holding him at distance, however, he’s guiding him closer and down, and Taehyung gives his lips a wet lick before wrapping his lips and sliding down, tongue pressing out and up.

And Taehyung’s always been a little messy with it, but he’s all finesse when Jimin murmurs, “Impress me,” voice sliding into the low Busan that sometimes slips through when he gets rougher. Arms bound, there’s even more motivation to focus and overperform, setting a steady rhythm and glide for himself until he’s drooling sloppy on Jimin’s cock and purring with an angled tongue when Jimin moans, shameless and pretty. Taehyung loves the look Jimin gets, his head always thrown back and mouth an indecent oh, so he strains his eyes upwards as he bobs on Jimin’s dick, heart soaring when Jimin looks down and catches his gaze with a starry grin.

“Putting on a show for me, huh?” Jimin croons, running a hand back through his hair. His bangs flop back down a second later, but the gesture’s far from useless, because there’s enough confidence packed into it Taehyung’s ten times as eager. There’s a wet pop as he slides off the tip, licking at the head and his lips before pressing a wet kiss and mouthing down the length, Jimin cursing as his reward. His hand fists in Taehyung’s hair when he breathes hot at the base before licking a stripe back up the underside to the tip. He sucks it into his mouth, scalp smarting.

“Get to me—fuck, so bad,” Jimin pants, letting go of Taehyung’s hair to slide his thumbs down his cheeks, patting nicely where it bulges. “You’re too good at this, doll, making me a goddamn mess—stop. Lean back for me.”

Reluctantly Taehyung obeys, sitting back on his heels and sucking at his lips in absence. Jimin stands, brushing Taehyung’s bangs out of his eyes before, moving back close, but he laughs at him first, at the way Taehyung’s lips part already. “You want more? Use your words.”

Taehyung pouts at him, biting his lip. Jimin just cocks his head, waiting, mocking him with a hum and several quick strokes at his dick. Taehyung whines seeing it, eyes glazing, letting any remaining inhibition slip away. “Please, I—you know I want it, you know I love it, please, let me—” he takes a breath, steadying the way he’s begun to sway. “Please, sir, use my mouth again.”

It works, because Jimin’s teeth find his own lip in a mirrored expression, his smirk added in. “Yeah, I know,” he says, thumbing at the head of his dick and closing his eyes in a show. He peeks one open, grinning at Taehyung’s open stare. “Knew you liked it. Just love to hear you say it”

Taehyung squirms hearing it, desperate for Jimin back in his mouth. He makes a soft noise, letting his tongue hang out, so Jimin slides his hips forward, then back and away when Taehyung’s mouth parts, laughing.

“You’re so needy,” Jimin says, affectionate. He gestures him forward, and Taehyung shuffles forth on his knees, looking up obediently. “Greedy little thing.”

Then he slides his thumbs past Taehyung’s lips, hooking his cheeks in his thumbs and pulling his mouth open. Taehyung catches on quick, letting him tug his mouth apart, opening wide and letting his tongue loll out eagerly. Jimin obliges him readily, sliding his cock back into Taehyung’s mouth and fucking in experimentally, before setting a steady rhythm, holding his head still and used as he fucks his face.

“All—fuckin’ mine,” Jimin murmurs low with one angled thrust. Taehyung makes the best noise of agreement he can before it’s cut off, throat convulsing, unable to suck back the spit that drips out. Jimin slips his hands free of Taehyung’s mouth, dropping them back and away. Giving Taehyung free reign.

“C’mon,” he says, encouraging. “Choke yourself.”

Taehyung manages another gurgled croon of pleasure before he cuts the sound off himself, sitting up and sliding forward and fitting Jimin’s dick down his throat best he can. Jimin’s moan is obscene when he does, all the reward he needs, so Taehyung forces himself down once, swallowing when his nose bumps Jimin’s stomach, holding for one-two-three-frantic seconds of held breath before sliding back with a wet cough. Jimin lets him recover, humming soft, before Taehyung tries it again, the sound in this throat divine.

On one particular attempt, Taehyung gags sinking low, pulling back off with a shudder, breath coming heavy. Jimin pets his hair through it, letting Taehyung rest his head and breathe against his hip a moment, murmuring.

“You’re so good for me,” he says, tracing at the back of Taehyung’s neck. “So good. I’m gonna come soon, yeah? Reward you for getting me off so good. My own service slut.”

Taehyung’s bleary, the only response he can manage to press his lips to Jimin’s hipbone in a kiss, earning a soft chuckle. “Cute. You’re doing so well. Take your time, whenever you’re ready.”

“Wanna—wanna have you in my throat again,” Taehyung mumbles, dazed. “M’good now. I wanna,” he insists, looking up to see Jimin’s raised brow and small smile.

“Okay,” Jimin says, patting once at his hair before tracing a finger down himself with a contented sigh. “Blow out if you need, test your throat, like I taught you. Need any help?”

“I want—” Taehyung thinks, closing his eyes. Spit’s long since dripped down from his chin to bare chest, and he can feel it drying cool. “I want you to keep me down? Once. Please.”

“On me?” Jimin questions. Taehyung nods. “Mm. Okay, baby. And then I’ll come for you.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung says, sitting back up and blowing out his lips. He leans forward til Jimin’s dick is just barely brushing at his lips and past his cheek, shivering to feel precum and his own spit leave a trail. He blinks up at Jimin. “May I?”

Jimin nods permission, and Taehyung opens his mouth once more.

This time, when his throat closes, Jimin’s hand is there on the back of Taehyung’s head, just as he asked. Panic rises for just a moment, but Jimin’s voice cuts clear and calm, commanding with a brush at his cheek.

“Relax,” he soothes, petting at Taehyung’s hair with one hand and keeping him down with the firm other. His voice is a mantra, consoling and keeping him from writhing. “Calm down. Relax. Shhh. I’ve got you, Tae, baby, you’re fine—” until Taehyung chokes once, then he’s calmed, slipping back down to where his thoughts are hazed. The pressure of Jimin’s hand disappears from the back of his head, but Taehyung stays, counting before he’s relaxing satisfied and sliding back.

“Very good,” Jimin praises, breath hitching. Taehyung grins at the breathy quality of it, proud even at the ache in his jaw. He nuzzles back, Jimin letting out another satisfied gasp, and moves back to toy at the head with his lips. “Look so pretty with cock in your mouth, gonna make me come so good. You want it on your face or in your mouth?”

Taehyung doesn’t pause, pressing his tongue into Jimin’s slit and lapping. He thinks for only a moment, pleading, “On my—on my face.”

“What do you say?”

Taehyung flicks his tongue teasingly, Jimin giving him a warning, fleeting touch at his jaw. He sits back, batting his eyes obediently. “Please?”

“Hm,” Jimin considers, hand returning to pump himself. “Okay, baby. Tongue out, eyes on me.”

Taehyung’s eager to obey, sitting back and blinking eyes up wide at Jimin, tongue out. Jimin gives another low groan to see him, jerking his dick with a few more rapid strokes before he comes. Taehyung makes a happy noise, almost panting with his tongue stretched past his lips, tastes most in his mouth and feels a few wet spots on his cheeks. The urge and desire to swallow flares immediately, but it’s another aspect Jimin’s been training him on. So instead he holds the pose, whining soft as Jimin pumps himself through it, tapping his cock on Taehyung’s tongue and giving him a lazy, flushed grin.

“Good boy,” Jimin praises, a fucked-out rasp slipping into it. He touches two fingers to Taehyung’s tongue, sliding and playing with the mess there. “You can swallow.”

Taehyung does so pleasedly, and again, as Jimin swipes his fingers on Taehyung’s cheek, smearing his own cum on his fingers and slipping them back into Taehyung’s mouth to clean. Satisfied, then, he crouches before him, gripping Taehyung’s chin between forefinger and thumb. Taehyung keeps his eyes open and on him as Jimin turns his head, inspecting him, leaning in once to lick at his cheek before giving Taehyung a wet kiss, playing their tongues together. It ends too soon, Taehyung trying not to protest.

“That was nice, huh?” Jimin asks, sweetly, sated. Taehyung nods, giving an obvious squirm as he bites his lip. Jimin’s as frustrating as ever, keeping a casual expression even as he reaches and plays at the head of Taehyung’s dick between two fingers. He keeps it up until Taehyung’s twitching, fighting everything not to buck his hips and just watch Jimin play with him with a smile.

“Hmm,” he says, clinically. “You must want to come pretty badly, huh?”

Taehyung chokes on an affirming whimper when Jimin squeezes, grinning at him.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” Taehyung manages, licking his lips with too much spit. “Yes, sir.”

“That so?” Jimin replies with mild interest. “You gonna earn that?”

It takes everything he has not to cry out at the unfairness of it. Taehyung nods, a little too quick, and Jimin smiles at the motion. He lets go, sliding his hand up to rub at Taehyung’s stomach.

“Of course you are. You’re my good baby, remember?” He pats at Taehyung’s stomach. “Used your mouth so well, let’s give it a treat. I’m gonna get your gag, okay?”

Taehyung nods again, circling his hips idly against nothing. Jimin kisses his cheek once more before standing, heading to the bedroom where Taehyung knows he’s sifting through the drawer they’ve designated home to the things Jimin orders him. Most they’ve picked together, collection expanding some since the first order during their second session almost two months ago. Once or twice Taehyung’s even opened the drawer to find something new. It’s always a pleasant surprise, because while he can see the receipt on his card when he checks his transactions, there’s only websites listed and never the item itself. It makes it more fun, and Jimin’s never disappointed him.

Barely a minute passes before Jimin returns, setting down the ball gag and plug on the sofa. Taehyung opens his mouth obediently when Jimin leans close, slipping the ball in and pulling the strap around his head.

“Gotta keep that pretty mouth nice and full, hm?” Jimin asks him cheerfully as he fastens it behind his head. Taehyung makes a sound of agreement. “Always wanna be full, don’t you? That’s what my baby likes.”

He sits back to admire when he’s done, thumbing at Taehyung’s cheek where the strap sits. “Feel okay?” he asks. Taehyung nods, Jimin smiling at him with the confirmation. “Good. Now let’s get you plugged up, give you something to play with so you’re not so empty, how’s that?”

Taehyung blinks up at him gratefully, making another muffled noise. Jimin kisses first his nose and then the ball of the gag, giggling at the way Taehyung always tries to mouth around it, frustrated he can’t return the kisses.

“I think that sounds good, too. Let me play with you a bit, and then if you’re real good, make me real happy, I’ll give you my cock.” he claps, tipping his head with a fond expression. “How’s that? You want me to fuck you?”

His laugh’s breathy when Taehyung nods, eager, pleased. “Hah, I thought so. Cute baby slut.” Taehyung shivers, and Jimin teases him with a hand ran through his hair and another kiss square on the gag. He reaches back for the lube. “Alright. Bend over for me.”

Taehyung sways, once, then hesitates under Jimin’s gaze, glancing up helplessly. His arms are still held tight behind him, and it’s a little scary to lean down, letting himself fall. Jimin catches on, and he must still be feeling sweet, because his eyes soften.

“Are you scared of falling?” he asks kindly. Taehyung ducks his head before nodding, teeth toying at the gag. Jimin leans to him, placing his hands before him and behind, one on the small of Taehyung’s back and another on his stomach. He soothes him, “Don’t worry. I’ve got you, okay?”

With Jimin’s reassurance, Taehyung lowers and bends, ending up on his knees and with his cheek pressed into the carpet. He blinks gratefully at Jimin, emotional so deep in the moment, and Jimin seems to catch it, ruffling Taehyung’s hair once before brushing his bangs out of his eyes. “Okay, baby. Keep your ass up for me.”

Taehyung arches his back as best he can, blinking hazily at Jimin as he squeezes lube out onto his fingers. He teases Taehyung for just a moment before working his fingers in, first one then quickly two, making short work of getting him prepped and wet. It must not be satisfying enough, though, because—Taehyung barely has any warning before Jimin’s scissoring him open and squeezing the lube right into him, laughing at Taehyung’s muffled, surprised squeal and kick. So sudden, and there’s so much that he can feel it inside and dripping out of him, an obscene squelch as he clenches. Jimin spanks him for it, pressing his fingers back in to play, and Taehyung finds himself panting and licking at the gag dumbly as he tests his muscles, feels excess dribbling down his trembling thighs.

“You’re gonna warm that up for me,” Jimin says, spanking him once more for good measure. Taehyung moans and nods, cheek rubbing at the carpet. Hazily he focuses his eyes; Jimin’s taken hold of the plug and held it out down beside his face. He’s done it before, asked Taehyung to kiss and lick and make a show of it, but he’s gagged now, so Taehyung just nuzzles forward as best he can and watches Jimin pull the plug back with a strand of connecting spit to the ball of his gag. A few seconds later he’s working it into him with a hum, twisting slow until Taehyung feels the swell fit past his rim, settling in. He makes a soft, needy sound of pleasure to test it, closing his eyes.

“Beautiful,” Jimin says admiringly, tracing his nails down Taehyung’s thighs. He’s made no secret he adores how sensitive they are, and Taehyung jumps a little, sighing even as the breath has spit bubbling out on the gag. “Fuckin’ perfect, darling. Think that’ll keep you occupied for a bit while I get myself worked back up?”

No, Taehyung thinks, because it’s never enough, but there’s nothing to do but nod obediently, hair falling into his eyes. He doesn’t have to hold the pose long, though, because Jimin’s hooking a hand under the tie keeping his arms together, tugging him back up onto his knees before he sits back on the couch.

Jimin runs his eyes over him admiringly, giving him a smile. “Hey,” he teases, eyes crinkling when Taehyung makes the best hum he can back. “You look so cute. C’mere a little closer, wanna pet my pretty toy.”

Taehyung’s long since figured out Jimin prefers to see him struggle for things. Even if it weren’t obvious, they’ve talked about it, too; Jimin likes the expressions he makes, likes the assurance of control through making his submissive feel helpless, humiliated.

Luckily, it’s just how Taehyung likes to feel, too.

So Taehyung shuffles on his knees closer to Jimin, blinking up at him with eyes wide and pleading. Jimin doesn’t bend, just puts a hand on Taehyung’s head and guides him down, until his head’s resting on Jimin’s thigh. Jimin strokes his hair as he begins lazily pumping his dick again just an inch from Taehyung’s face, chuckling when Taehyung furrows his brows and whines.

“Aw,” he teases. “Am I neglecting you?”

Taehyung knows better, but he nods anyway, cheek rubbing against Jimin’s thigh and desperate enough to take anything.

“Told you to wait for me, though. I even plugged you up nice and full, are you saying it’s still not enough?”

“Jhhmim—mmf,” Taehyung tries weakly around the gag, tongue straining.

Jimin laughs, and tilts his head. “Well,” he says, musing like he’s making an allowance, like Taehyung is such trouble, “If you’re so desperate, I guess I could play with you a little more.”

Jimin’s all hands at first, murmuring a soft messy under his breath as he thumbs at the ball of the gag and smears spit across Taehyung’s cheek. It’s treatment Taehyung loves, purring happily even as he drools on Jimin’s thigh—but the sound twists and chokes when he feels something hard on his dick, pressing down. Stimulation at last, and Jimin grins down at him as he grinds the sole of his shoe down onto Taehyung’s crotch.

Red-soled Louboutins out of the box less than a day ago, a gift shipped to Jimin’s apartment and still all shine tapping against him. Taehyung lets out another strangled noise, squirming and biting at the gag, the degradation divine.

“Keep your eyes on me,” Jimin orders when Taehyung squeezes his shut. He blinks them back open, straining to keep them focused up on Jimin, unable to help the jerks of his hip pressing forward for any stimulation. “Thought you wanted to be played with.”

Taehyung tries a yes, sir, thank you, sir, but it barely comes out past the gag, all spit and syllables. Jimin seems to get it, though, patting at his cheek before getting right back to jerking himself off before Taehyung, sliding forward on the sofa til his dick’s poking at his gag and rubbing past his cheek. Taehyung groans, jaw working uselessly, nuzzling upward all he can do.

“What are you whining for? I’m playing with you, aren’t I?” Jimin asks, clicking his tongue. “S’not enough? You’re so greedy. Sit back up, then. You can go right back to watching if nothing’s gonna be good enough for you.”

He doesn’t quite move fast enough, so Jimin’s fisting a hand in his hair and tugging him up, setting Taehyung back to sitting on his heels. Taehyung makes the most begging face at him he can muster, but Jimin just leans back, smile sharp as he presses the sole of the zewar flat right back down onto his dick. Plays with him a while like that, and it’s fine for a time, the kind of torture Taehyung’s come to love, hard and well degraded; until he enjoys it too much, strings of spit dripping down around the gag onto his chest and Jimin’s shoe.

Jimin slaps him before Taehyung’s even noticed, leaning forward. It’s even worse when he realizes Jimin’s nearly got himself fully hard, but his promise is undoubtedly delayed by what Taehyung’s done. He looks—like his expression’s cold, but his eyes are full of glee, likely already picturing what he’ll have Taehyung do.

“These are nice fucking shoes, baby.” Jimin purrs. “You should know that, you bought ‘em for me, didn’t you?” Taehyung chokes-mid nod as Jimin grinds his sole back down onto him, shrinking. “You know what? You bought them, you can clean them for me, too. Get over here.”

Jimin’s hand is on his face again. It’s messy when he unhooks the gag, tossing it aside carelessly and swiping a thumb at Taehyung’s lip before popping it in his mouth. Taehyung sucks eagerly, until Jimin fists a hand in his hair; he’s drawn his leg up on the couch and drags Taehyung to him. Taehyung doesn’t need instruction, ducking his head and only letting the smallest whimper slip as he licks at Jimin’s shoe, dragging his tongue across the leather. He meets Jimin’s eyes as he kisses submissively, cap and tongue and heel, reverent. Jimin’s grip softens in his hair, turns to a gentle card through it as Taehyung worships.

“You’re so messy,” he sighs, but it’s far from cruel, affectionate now. He shifts, pointing at the leg of his trousers. “I even gave you your gag to play with, and this is how you repaid me? Dripped all over me, drooled on my thigh, you’re fucking sloppy, baby.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung whines. Sitting up on his heels, he nuzzles into Jimin’s thigh, kissing the spots he’d left—he’s rewarded with an inhale from Jimin, and suppresses a smile, pleased to have surprised him. “I’m sorry, sir.”

“Oh,” Jimin breathes out. “Don’t be. I love it, you know.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung mumbles back. He kisses again, devout. “Will you—Will you still—“

“Will I what?” Jimin asks, cupping Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung leans into the touch, closing his eyes. “Words, baby.”

“Fuck me?” Taehyung bites his lip, opening his eyes up to meet his gaze. “Jimin—sir. Please?”

Jimin drags his thumb across Taehyung’s cheek, stroking at his lip. “Hm,” he says, impartially, but with something like excitement taut below the tone, “Convince me.”

Taehyung shivers, stomach stirring. Slyly he turns his face to kiss Jimin’s palm. “Haven’t I been good? Sir?”

Jimin hums, leaning to kiss his hair. “You think so?” he asks.

Taehyung hesitates, searching for the expected response. “I—yes?” he tries.

“Mm,” Jimin’s sigh ruffles Taehyung’s hair. “You’re right. Don’t be shy when you’ve done well. But I want to hear it.”

“Then…” Taehyung bites his lip, “Please. Please, sir, I want—I want a reward.”

“A reward, huh?” Jimin grins, seemingly satisfied, confidence puffing him up. “Well, then. If that’s really what you want…”

Jimin stands, but when Taehyung makes to follow him up, Jimin pushes him back down. Taehyung catches on quickly, letting Jimin shove his face into the sofa as he comes to crouch behind him.

“You wanna get fucked, huh?” Jimin spanks him again when he takes a second to reply, Taehyung jumping and yelping muffled into the couch with the impact to already stinging skin. “Answer me.”

“Please, yes, please,” Taehyung breathes out. Jimin hums, tapping the inside of Taehyung’s thighs. He understands, Jimin training him well, and spreads his legs wider apart. “Will you—will you still, please—”

His pleas taper off into a moan as Jimin tugs at the plug, a gentle yet steady pressure that he can feel a tug before it's sliding out, leaving him clenching. Jimin makes an appreciative noise, trailing his finger around his rim. Sensitive, Taehyung shivers, edging his hips back. Jimin spanks him again when he does.

“Have some patience,” Jimin scolds. Taehyung buries his face in the leather of the sofa and tries to calm his breathing while he listens to Jimin shuffling behind him, hears the condom wrapper and hazily sees Jimin reach back past Taehyung for the lube.

“Thank you,” Taehyung mumbles when he feels Jimin’s fingers slip into him, still wet from earlier. “Thank you, thank—ah, thank you, sir.”

“You’re doing so well,” Jimin murmurs back. “Gonna fuck you now, alright? Make you come so good, you earned it.” Taehyung whispers another thank you in response, shivering when he hears Jimin shuffling off his pants. Then he’s lining up and pressing in, holding the two of them steady with a grip on the tie of Taehyung’s arms behind him. Holds still for a moment, and Taehyung has to bite back a whine, knowing better but so, so desperate.

Jimin gives him permission to beg again with a lowered voice. “What do you say?”

“P-Please,” Taehyung keens out again, frustrated now, “Please?”

“Please, what?”

He’s insufferable, loves to hear Taehyung beg and never bothers to hide it. Taehyung bites back an expletive, channeling it instead into a desperate plea. “Please, fuck me? Jimin, sir, I—”

He cuts off, voice strangling out as Jimin pulls out and thrusts back into him.

“I can’t hear you, baby.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung gasps, cheek rubbing into the leather with each thrust. Jimin lets go of his wrists in favor of holding his hips, grip firmly holding him in place. Still he can’t help but fall forward and back into a rhythm, hiccuping and mindless. An opportunity to humiliate that Jimin never passes up, fisting a hand in Taehyung’s hair enough to smart when his mouth drops open.

“Don’t drool on your nice sofa,” Jimin coos, voice coming breathy. “You don’t even have your gag in, baby. You feel that good?”

Lost in it now, Taehyung nods in a dazed whimper. Unsure even if Jimin can tell the motion over the way he’s got him pressed into the couch, but it certainly turns into a sob when Jimin slows, angling his hips in a deep stroke before pulling out completely. Protesting, Taehyung rocks back. In response Jimin shoves him back before spreading his cheeks and spitting in. Taehyung groans, arching his back.

“Oh, you liked that, huh?” Jimin muses. “That’s filthy, sweetheart.”

“Please,” Taehyung begs, shameless, too far gone to care. “Please, sir, fuck me again, I need it, I need—I need you.”

“S’that so?” Jimin murmurs. Taehyung shudders out, mouth lolling open in a soft exhale to feel Jimin kiss up his spine. “Keep talking like that, and maybe I’ll let you come.”

Panting softly, mind dumb, Taehyung tries again. It’s made harder by Jimin returning attention back to his thighs, running his nails over the skin lightly. Taehyung imagines Jimin smiling watching him tremble and twitch, thought eliciting another groan out of him.

“I’ve been good,” Taehyung whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut. Jimin hums in response. “I wanna—I wanna come, want—want whatever you want, Jimin, but...but please, I…”

He trails off, sniffling. Jimin runs a hand over his hair, petting.

“Hold still,” he murmurs, and Taehyung chokes on his thank you when Jimin works himself back in. “Pretty Tae. Wish you could see yourself. Swallow me right up, take me so good. How’s it feel?”

“Good,” Taehyung moans helplessly, tears stinging to be teased, dragged back from the edge over and over again. As though Jimin doesn’t know how much he wants it, as though it isn’t obvious, evidence bent over before him. “S-So good, sir, filling me up, m’so empty and I want it so bad—”

“Oh, I know my dick’s good, baby,” Jimin laughs. “I wanna hear how it feels to be mine.”

“I—” Taehyung swallows, determined this time to get it right, get Jimin to snap and give him what he wants. It’s harder even to think as Jimin toys with him. Agonizingly shallow, slow thrusts while he waits so patiently for Taehyung to gather his thoughts, but that alone is inspiration. “I like it,” he mumbles, licking his lips. “You treat me so good, Jiminie, sir. Til m’so empty, I just need you. Wanna be yours, wanna get fucked stupid and—” he chokes into almost a gurgle as Jimin bottoms out. “—be all yours to play with, drop me so low ‘til I just wanna get fucked. I just want you, so please, Jimin, please.”

“Oh,” Jimin sighs softly. “Is that so, pretty thing?” Taehyung nods dazedly, and Jimin rewards him with a kiss to the back of his neck, a low murmur. “My prettiest thing. How’d I get so lucky, huh? Whole damn city wants you, and here you are, all mine. So good—” Taehyung gasps as Jimin fucks back into him, accentuating each word. “So obedient—so eager. Will you come for me, Kim Taehyung?”

“Yes,” Taehyung keens, body trembling around Jimin helplessly. “Yes, yes. Always yes.”

It’s finally enough to take pity on him. Jimin’s hands find his hips firm again, steadying as he settles into a rhythm, the teasing long behind them. Until Taehyung’s crying out, until he really is drooling a spot onto his couch, until he’s seeing stars.

“Please, may I—” Taehyung stammers when he feels pleasure curling in his stomach. Jimin’s close himself, he thinks, if his breath on Taehyung’s neck is anything to gauge by.

“Come for me,” Jimin orders. He reaches for him, spitting in his hand before fisting Taehyung’s cock. It’s all the push he needs, coming into Jimin’s hand with a strangled cry and starshine behind his eyes—and then there’s no time to recover before he’s babbling, because Jimin only fucks into him harder. His fingers dig into Taehyung’s side, pulling him back on him with each snap of his hips until Taehyung’s almost wailing, his vision swimming. Overstimulated, on the verge of thrashing but Jimin holds him still with ease. A minute or so later Jimin exhales heavy against his neck, licking a stripe up the side as he thrusts in and holds, gorgeous moan beside Taehyung’s ear as he comes. The both of them recover slowly, though Taehyung thinks he’s more affected, if the bodily shudder he gives each time Jimin drags against his walls any indication before pulling out.

“Good boy,” Taehyung hears Jimin murmur, distantly. “Beautiful, wonderful, best. I’m here.”

Dizzy, Taehyung mumbles a wordless response. Behind him he feels Jimin at work, hands gentle but firm tugging at the knots. When the ropes slide loose it’s hard not to let his arms fall immediately to his sides, but Jimin catches them, thumbs stroking at his wrists.

“Slowly,” he says. Obediently, only half in-body, Taehyung lets Jimin take control, slowly stretching his arms and letting them finally set beside him. It’s lovely to keep his eyes closed, floating in a glitter haze, but he blinks them open when Jimin thumbs at his cheek. It’s worth it to see Jimin’s smile.

“Baby,” he says softly. “You did so good. You’re so good.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung sighs out. “Thank you, sir.”

Jimin’s smile twitches a little. Later Taehyung will realize, but still in the headspace, it comes naturally. Kindly, Jimin runs a hand over Taehyung’s hair, brushing his bangs back to kiss his forehead.

“I’m gonna take care of you now,” Jimin says. Taehyung nuzzles his head into Jimin’s hand. “You remember, baby? Got you ice cream, all for you. Some ice for you too, I just need you to sit up, can you do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung stretches out his arms before pushing himself back up to sit on his heels. Shoulders sore from the prolonged position, but nothing he thinks will last overnight. “Carry me?”

“You asking if I can or if I will?” Jimin asks, amused. Before Taehyung can try to find a response, Jimin’s hooking a hand under him, lifting him bridal style. “Because the answer’s yes to both.”







"Jimin,” Taehyung emphasizes, whining for what feels like the hundredth time. “The water’s been warm.”

Taehyung runs his hands under the shower stream to flick some water at Jimin at the sink, who gives a shout and then a laugh when he can’t hold a glare at him.

“Alright, alright,” he says, messing with his hair once more before stepping under the water stream with Taehyung. “C’mon, let’s get cleaned up.”

They’d cuddled for a time, Jimin fulfilling every one of his promises, icing smarting skin while letting Taehyung have at the box of ice cream bars he’d brought over. Strawberry—sweet like you, he’d praised with a kiss to Taehyung’s nose—and Taehyung doesn’t hesitate to dig in, considering his days with Jimin cheat days in every way, diet and otherwise.

Two hours later, fighting the urge to doze off, he’s craving a shower. And it’s nice, always is. Jimin insists on shampooing Taehyung’s hair, and Taehyung returns the favor. More than the soothing, physical aspect, though, it’s just them. Jimin had predicted they’d get along well, and it’s been proven true. It’s easy to talk to him, the emotional part of the relationship, Taehyung supposes, but Jimin never makes it feel like a chore. He always listens to him, is happy enough to give advice or just a hug if there’s nothing to be said. And Taehyung’s happy to do the same back, often laughs along or emphasizes to Jimin’s stories about students or coworkers or anything else.

It’s genuine. Taehyung’s happy enough for the companionship in addition to the play sessions, can understand why so many in positions like his want to play at a relationship with the discretion and without strings attached, but it never feels like a job. Whether it’s the similarity in ages or just compatible personalities, spending time with Jimin is fun. Taehyung’s found he enjoys taking him out and spoiling him just as much as the sessions he’d originally reached out for. The comfort level’s only proven once more when Taehyung pouts at Jimin to part his hair when he blow dries it, his favorite of Jimin’s looks. Jimin gives in with only a little teasing.

In bed now, Taehyung’s relaxed as he always is during Jimin’s aftercare, laying stretched out on his stomach and propped up with a pillow under his chin. Jimin’s taking the time to give him a massage, cream a soothing aloe and honey, giving especial attention in checking and kneading sore skin. He always does so much for Taehyung with aftercare, borderline fussing over him, and it’s sweet, reassuring.

Currently, Taehyung is locating Jimin’s Instagram, chin in pillow and phone before him. Jimin had given it to him with a laugh, given it’s the same busanprince and Taehyung hadn’t thought to check before. Jimin’s icon shows his face hidden at a masterful angle, blond hair falling into frame.

“You used to be blond?” Taehyung asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It was a good look,” Jimin recalls fondly. “Black’s my best color, though.”

Taehyung doesn’t have the time to think of a response before he’s greeted with his own face, snorting and looking back over his shoulder. Jimin peers over his before laughing, shaking his head.

“You’re promoting me, huh?”

It’s a snapped shot of his High Cut cover beside a coffee, Jimin’s hands holding it. Cheeks dusting pink, Jimin shoves lightly at Taehyung, who yelps dramatically.

“Jiminie, watch it, I’m sore.”

“I’m supporting my client,” Jimin defends, rubbing the remaining lotion up Taehyung’s back before crawling up to fall beside him.

“Support appreciated,” Taehyung teases, grinning. Jimin rolls his eyes, reaching to flick at Taehyung’s forehead. “You just had to ask, you know. I’ll be sure to send a copy of my next cover. Maybe I’ll even sign it.”

Jimin just sighs. He runs a hand through his hair and hums while Taehyung scrolls through his phone. He’s got something of an aesthetic, Taehyung thinks, a hot mess of instagram sugar baby and drop-dead dom looks. Gorgeous snapshots of himself are mixed in amongst glimpses of his lifestyle—there’s a dance studio, OOTD posts, and every so often, looks at bondage paraphernalia, sometimes suggestive, faceless shots of ties on participants, a mirror shot of a censored figure kneeling before him. Taehyung hesitates on one of the simpler ones, anonymous wrists locked into handcuffs.

“What are these for?”

“Hm?” Jimin turns, peering at his phone a moment. “Oh. It’s just kind of a thing I do with some clients, I guess? Showing off for potential bookings.”

Taehyung thinks, trying to weigh how he’s feeling. It’s not—jealousy, not in the least. He knows Jimin has other clients and has no problem with it.

It’s more a feeling of exclusion, to put a name to it.

“You’ve never asked me to?” he asks after a moment, trying to keep his voice measured. Still there’s a bit of a pout, feeling especially needy after the morning’s events. Jimin glances over at him fully, alerted by the change in Taehyung’s tone despite his care and sitting up.

“I mean, you’re...kind of in a unique position.” Jimin says slowly. “I figured there was no way. Being cautious, and all.” he pauses a moment, and Taehyung can feel his gaze heavy on him, but he keeps his eyes on his phone screen, unsure of how he’s feeling. “Taehyung. Did you want to?”

Exclusion is definitely the word for it, Taehyung realizes. He feels petulant now, a little silly, because Jimin’s reasoning makes sense, and he’s right. But at the same time, he likes the idea, wants Jimin sharing off something of him, too. Knowing it’s up for a private thrill, anyone who checked their feed seeing it, maybe getting off to it, knowing he’s submitted to Jimin even if the identity's unrecognizable to anyone but the two of them.

“I mean,” Taehyung offers a weak half-shrug, attempting unsuccessfully to quash the excited skip in his heart. “They’re pretty anonymous pictures. I don’t think people would recognize my kneecap or something.”

Jimin gives him a look. “I’m not posting a picture of your kneecaps.”

“Why not?” Taehyung locks his phone and sits up, struggling to keep his face straight. “Is there something wrong with them?”

“‘Hey everyone, here’s my sugar daddy’s aesthetic ass knees.’ said no one ever. Especially not me. No one’s into kneecaps.”

Seriously, Taehyung points a finger. “You owe an apology to knee enthusiasts everywhere.”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Oh, yes, the thriving community of patella fetishists. I’ll be sure to send my regards.”

He shoves playfully at Taehyung’s hand, the two of them laughing together. It quiets quickly, though, especially when Taehyung realizes how Jimin’s looking at him with consideration, too good at picking up his moods.

“Taehyung…” Jimin catches his hand, raising an eyebrow. “Is this something you want?”

Taehyung looks away for a minute, then back. “I’s not really important. You’re right about being careful. I just kinda like the idea, you know? Of it being up. Of people seeing it. Thinking about it. Even if we’re the only ones who know it’s me.”

“Mm,” Jimin bites his lip, looking down at Taehyung’s hand in his. He turns it upwards, tracing the lines of his palm. “I understand. time we can test some angles? A shot of your wrists tied or something, and then no pressure if you decide not to post it.”

Taehyung perks up a little. “Okay. ...Sorry. I know it’s dumb.”

“It’s not,” Jimin shakes his head. “We can do it. I don’t think anyone is that analytical, or would make the connection. ...Maybe keep your hands closed, though, just in case. Your fingers are pretty recognizable.”

“Uh.” Taehyung squints at him, pulling back his hand. “Okay. Do I want to know?”

“They are,” Jimin insists, coloring a little. “You really don’t read comments, do you? They’re very...ah…long. Some people, uh, visualize them. For fantasies and such. You know.”

“Huh,” Taehyung echoes. He looks down at his hands, and grins. “Well. I know now. And if you’d ever like to share some of yours with me…”

Jimin mutters something like insufferable. Taehyung picks up his phone again, shaking his head in amusement. “I can’t believe you have a kink for my hands.”

“I do not.”

“You don’t need to deny it. Full disclosure, right?” Jimin groans, flopping back down on the bed. Taehyung smiles to himself continuing to scroll through, the expression brightening to see something familiar; designer bags arranged artistically, framed beside Jimin trying on some of his presents. Delightedly, he points it out, “Aw. You shared my gifts.”

Jimin turns his head, cheek pressing into the pillow, smiling at him. “Well, yeah. Gotta show you off, right? Prove you’re no splenda daddy.”

Taehyung stares at him a moment, keeping the smile polite before letting it fade. “Okay. Still touched, but you lost me.”

“Sorry, sometimes I forget you’re new to the language.” Jimin waves a hand. “It’s like, someone who’s trying to seek out sugar relationships, but they’re cheap about it. Either they don’t have the funds, or they’re stingy. Skip out on payments and things like that.” Jimin reaches to boop at his nose. “You’re well in the clear, so don’t worry. I think you went a little over this month, actually.”

“I like treating you,” Taehyung says, genuinely, setting down his phone and laying back down beside Jimin. “You’re good to me. And I feel like you deserve more, even, for keeping this so discreet. I just want to give you what you deserve.”

“Okay, stop, no more. I’m embarrassed. You’re so sweet,” Jimin sighs, leaning in to press a quick kiss to Taehyung’s lips. “You know I like working with you. Trust me, you’re not any of the different warning-sign types. ...To be honest, I’d pretty much given up on sugaring until our arrangement, domming is less commitment. So you are definitely an exception, and definitely worth it.”

“Oh. Thank you,” Taehyung says shyly. “If you don’t mind me asking, though...I’m curious, and so I know for reference. What are the bad types?”

Jimin thinks a moment, blinking up at the ceiling.

“Well,” he muses, “It’s just like how there’s bad tropes in dating, too, you know? Things to watch out for.” Taehyung nods. “So there’s the Splenda, cheaping out on payments. Some others are clearly just treating arrangements like escort services, when it’s actually meant to be long term and following a pretty specific contract, you know? Sugar relationships don’t even necessarily have to involve sex, we just, you know, started off with domming, so obviously you want to continue that. But some people get pretty damn lecherous, acting like it’s guaranteed.”

“Ew,” Taehyung wrinkles his nose. Jimin voices his agreement.

“Then there’s...I guess it’s not the worst type you could get, but. You remember how we talked about feelings for each other?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung nods. “Some people expect they’re going to, like, pick up a partner. Sometimes it’s gross notions like wanting to ‘save’ sex workers, or just ignoring the parameters we set.” Jimin scowls up at the ceiling. “Even if it doesn’t start off with that intention, you gotta be an adult and talk about it, call off the arrangement if you catch feelings. Because it’s not healthy for the way the dynamic is supposed to work, in the transaction. It's just going to hurt you both in the long run. And it sucks, but it’s the respectful thing to do.”

Jimin looks uncomfortable, now, expression darkening more as he talks. Taehyung hesitates before reaching out to lay a hand on his arm, asking cautiously, “Did...something like that happen?”

Jimin’s lips twist into an unhappy frown. “Yeah,” he says finally. “He didn’t tell me. For months. He...thought I’d feel the same way back, eventually. Like he was courting me.” Jimin closes his eyes. “I thought it was all skinship, flirting for fun, like we do, but he was trying to make me love him. I didn’t even realize until he asked me out, confessed how long it’d been going on. He just...let it keep going, let me keep working, expecting more.” Jimin crosses his arms over his chest, eyes still closed. He looks defensive, guarded. Hurt. “I should’ve realized it. I was so stupid.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says instantly, reaching back for him. Jimin’s stiff at first, but finally lets himself turn into the touch, Taehyung wrapping his arms around him. “No, you weren’t. You set up a contract, you trusted he’d follow it. He should’ve followed it. You’re not the bad person for that. He is.”

“I know,” Jimin says, softer. “I’m fine, I swear. I mostly just...ugh, it just pisses me off to remember, now. I wish I’d seen it then.” Taehyung’s ready to offer more words of comfort, but Jimin shakes his head. “He’s long gone. It’s over now. Just annoying to think about.”

“I hear you,” Taehyung offers quietly. “And if you ever wanna talk, you know…” Jimin nods, curling in closer. They stay like that a few minutes before Jimin pecks the tip of Taehyung’s nose with a kiss. They both stretch, pulling apart.

“Tae?” Taehyung blinks at Jimin. “Thank you. I mean it,” Jimin continues, ducking his head. “Our arrangement has been really nice. I hadn’t sugared after...y’know, before. I stopped. But I’m glad I offered it to you.”

That’s new information. Taehyung bites his lip. “It’s been really nice for me, too,” he says earnestly, hoping Jimin can feel the honesty in it. “You...really hadn’t made an arrangement with anyone? Since then?”

Something flashes in Jimin’s eyes. He shrugs. “No,” he says, shaking his head. “I didn’t need to. Domming brings in enough extra cash. I, uh, haven’t with any other client, either. Balancing two can get a little hard.”

“Right,” Taehyung echoes, but his thoughts are still catching up. “Well, I’m glad, too, Jimin.”

Jimin scans his face and nods. “Mhm,” he agrees, looking just as thoughtful as Taehyung’s sure he does himself. Chewing his lip, and something’s building between them, not quite weird yet, but whatever it is, it’s dismissed when Jimin reaches out and ruffles Taehyung’s hair affectionately.

“C’mon,” he says. “I’m the one taking care of you, remember? Turn back over and lemme check on you, then we can watch something before I have to head out.”







A week later, shooting’s wrapped up, and Taehyung always appreciates when he has the chance to look over prints before they go out. It's just fun even though he rarely has complaints, especially with Hoseok in an entirely different ballpark, paid to sub in enough times he fondly says he’s figured out all of Taehyung’s best angles.

Taehyung tries not to take offense, brushing it off as regarding photography alone, because personally he considers every angle as his best angle.

Today, however, Hoseok is the one with an issue. He’s heatedly flipping through dozens of candids on the iPad before them, and it’d been a harmless comment, really, but now it’s amusing enough that Taehyung’s sticking to it.

“See, this pose you put me in is a little weird. And I just don’t know how I feel about the lighting here?” he says, tilting his head innocently. Hoseok narrows his eyes at him.

“Excuse me?” he scoffs. “This is the ideal lighting. It complements the theme, the wardrobe, everything, perfectly. When did you become a diva?”

“I’m just messing with you,” Taehyung gives in, shaking his head. “They look great. As usual.”

Hoseok scoffs, somewhat mollified. “Don’t do that. Here I thought I’d found a big name that I enjoyed working with. You should be grateful to me, anyway.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “What do I have to be grateful to you for? Aside from distracting Yoongi the last few weeks.”

It’s been almost comical, like something out of a cheesy romcom. Taehyung happens to know they’ve begun to spend time together even outside of work, and it’s benefited all of them, most of all Taehyung. Even though they’d come to an understanding on the dating issue, Taehyung’s sure he’d still be under a little more scrutiny if Hoseok wasn’t high on Yoongi’s mind these days. Well, higher than usual.

(Of course, Taehyung is sure he’d hear more about it, regardless of Hoseok, if Yoongi knew he’d met Jimin not for a relationship, but in a glorified BDSM booty call, with digital receipts galore. He plans on keeping this particular information private as long as he can.)

Hoseok smirks. Taehyung finds he’s not fond of the expression, asking suspiciously, “What?”

“Oh,” Hoseok says innocently. “You wanna know what I do for you?”

He tugs back the iPad, scrolling back a few folders. Taehyung squints at it.

“What are you pulling up?”

Hoseok winks at him. “My originals folder.”

It takes a moment to sink in. Indignant, Taehyung makes a grab for the iPad. “You photoshop me?”

“Did you think the red tint was there pre-production?”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it,” Taehyung crosses his arms over his chest. “I don’t believe you. What could you possibly have changed?”

“Relax, I’m not talking about your looks,” Hoseok rolls his eyes. “God, are you kidding? Do you even know how many requests Yoongi has to field off about your skincare routine? Like, from other agencies, not just fans. Dermatologists hate you and all that. Anyway, not what I’m talking about.”

“Oh,” Taehyung uncrosses his arms, placated. “So what are you showing me?”

Without a word, Hoseok turns the iPad back around. It’s one of the shots he’d looked over earlier, though it’s uncropped, and the red hue to the scene is absent. Taehyung scans it for a moment, before looking up quizzically.

“Okay, I give up. What am I supposed to be looking at?”

Hoseok sighs, spinning the tablet back around to him. Pointedly, he zooms in, specifically on Taehyung’s thigh where the shorts have ridden up. Taehyung sees it even before Hoseok spins it back around, cheeks heating.

There’s a mark on his inner thigh, approximately mouth-shaped. It’s faint enough to not stand out, but quite visible once noticed.

“That’s—” Taehyung straightens up. “I bumped into a table.”

“Right,” Hoseok says skeptically.

He gives in. “We’re being careful.”

Hoseok snorts. “Glad to hear the table’s using protection.”

“I just mean—ugh. So it was one time. We didn’t think I’d mark there so easily, but we've figured out my thighs are more sensitive.”

“Okay, look,” Hoseok leans back, raising his hands, “My point has been made. Do not need to hear the details. Maybe just be a little careful, spend an extra minute in the mirror picking out your day wear.” He points an accusing finger, adding, “And thank your local photographer! By not criticizing his executive decisions regarding lighting. And also maybe by dropping the aforementioned skincare routine.”

“I’ll leak my favorite moisturizer. That’s it.” Hoseok considers a moment before shrugging, and they shake on it across the table, grinning.

“Text me a picture later,” he says, then his face brightens, remembering something. “Oh! That reminds me.” Hoseok stretches, looking proud, cheeks reddening slightly. “Guess who convinced Yoongi to take a day off and actually go out somewhere?”

Taehyung sits up in his seat. “You?” he breaks into a grin when Hoseok nods, beaming. “You’re going to hang out? Like, outside the realms of working?”

“Miracle, right?” Hoseok straightens up boastfully. “It took a bit of work, but he agreed to be dragged out somewhere, my pick.”

“Ah, I’m so happy,” Taehyung sighs, hand fluttering over his heart. “He deserves a break. Both of you do, actually. He’s seemed so much happier lately.”

Hoseok’s cheeks get even redder, though Taehyung hadn’t thought it possible. “Speak for yourself.”

“Huh?” Taehyung asks, tilting his head, pausing mid-celebratory clap. “What do you mean?”

“Haven’t you seen any of the fantalk about you?” Hoseok asks incredulously. Taehyung shakes his head. “Well. Fans are saying you seem happier lately. In posts, lives, whatever. Dating speculation hasn’t really started up yet, but I’m sure it’ll be the first question the next time you do an interview.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s applause has halted completely. “That’s...huh. Really?”

“I mean, we’ve noticed it too. Even more so ‘cause we actually have to spend time around you.” Hoseok makes a cooing face. “Always smiling at your phone every break, don’t think we haven’t noticed.”

It’s Taehyung’s turn to flush, keeping his voice prim. “Well, look at you two. Already using we like a married couple.”

Hoseok squints at him. “You did the same thing earlier.”


“You used we,” Hoseok says triumphantly.

“Did not. Maybe. Whatever,” Taehyung waves him off, face burning. It’s not something he’d considered, but now that it’s been pointed out, he has been feeling happier lately. Not that he was unhappy before, but for the last few years his life’s been a whirlwind of work. Work he likes, granted, but having something like a relationship has brightened his weeks considerably. His sessions and dates with Jimin are what he most looks forward to. The realization’s a little disconcerting, but his heart betrays him with a little faster of a beat, anyway. Happy.

“So have you thought about where you’re taking Yoongi?” Taehyung asks, switching subjects. Hoseok’s face falls, sighing as he pulls out his phone.

“Not yet,” he says. “Hey, you’ve been running around the city with someone on your arm recently, right? Got any recommendations?”

Taehyung opens his mouth to decline, but then a semi-familiar face pops into his mind. They’ve been back once or twice, and excitedly he says, “Déjà Brew!”

“What did you just call me?”

“It’s a cafe,” Taehyung laughs. “Really nice and quiet, lots of privacy.”

“I don’t want to know how you know that last part. Don’t even start,” Hoseok deadpans. “So, Déjà Brew? Like...the phrase? Plus coffee?” Taehyung nods, and Hoseok grins. “Oh, man. Yoongi’s going to hate that.”

Taehyung feels his expression melt into one of horror to remember. “Oh, my god. You’re right. He’s the one who hates puns.”

“How did you even forget?”

“I learned like a week after meeting him!” Taehyung defends. “I ironed them out of my humor.”

“Well, too late,” Hoseok says smugly, punching what’s presumably a search and address into his phone. He snickers. “I’m definitely taking him now. It’s going to be worth it just to see his face.”

“It’s your date and funeral,” Taehyung says doubtfully. “It is a really nice place, though. It’s in Insadong.”

“Already found it,” Hoseok waves his phone triumphantly. “Enough about me, though. Let’s hear more about that—”


Yoongi’s voice becomes clearer as he rounds the corner. His mouth closes and he looks suspicious to see the two of them huddled together. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Not at all,” Hoseok says sweetly, picking up his iPad and heading out. Taehyung pointedly ignores the way he winks at Yoongi on his way out.

“How does everything look?” Yoongi asks, sliding into Hoseok’s previous seat across from Taehyung. Taehyung blinks at him a moment before remembering what they’d called a break for.

“Oh! Great. The pictures are great,” Taehyung reassures. He cringes inwardly remembering the original, deciding to pull a solid for Hoseok just in case. “Hoseok’s a great photographer. The best. Really cool. Nice, uh, hands.”

“Great,” Yoongi echoes him, raising an eyebrow. “Hands?”

“You know, for holding. The camera.” Taehyung says. Yoongi looks at him blankly another minute.

“Right,” Yoongi says slowly. “Didn’t know you had a thing for hands, Taehyung.”

Taehyung bites back a smile. “I’ve had recent reason to think about them.”

“...Anyway, I have something to talk to you about. Not hands.” he gives Taehyung a pointed look. “Or Hoseok.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung says sheepishly. “Just know, uh, I’m rooting for you. Both of you.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “Right,” he says again, not meeting Taehyung’s eyes for a second before looking back up, smiling small. “I have some good news for you, though. Really good.”

Taehyung sits up expectantly. “Yeah? Let’s hear it.”

Yoongi’s smile gets a little wider, lip twitching like he’s trying to hold it back. His voice is forcedly casual. “You remember the talks we had earlier this summer with KBS?”

Taehyung’s heart stills, but he forces himself to stay calm. “Yeah?”

Yoongi lets him wait a second, heart in his throat. Finally he lets his full smile show through, drumming his fingers against the table. “They want you at a script reading for an upcoming drama. If you’re still interested, that is.”

“Are you serious?” Taehyung claps a hand to his mouth, eyes widening. He can’t keep back a huge grin. “I—I’m definitely still interested, of course. Oh my god? When did you find out?”

“I got the call a few minutes ago,” Yoongi looks just as excited, even if he’s not yet bouncing in his seat, which Taehyung’s just started to do. “You want me to confirm?”

“Yes?” Yoongi laughs at him, and Taehyung looks away sheepishly. “Yes,” he repeats calmer. “You know how I’ve wanted to try acting. I’d love to do the reading.”

“Then I’ll let them know,” Yoongi says happily, standing back up. Taehyung falls back into his seat, still grinning a little stupidly at the ceiling. On impulse, his hands reach for his phone.

“Taehyung…” Yoongi’s eyes fall to the motion, expression dimming a little. Guiltily Taehyung realizes he’s opened a new message to Jimin like a second habit, needing to share the good news. Like it’s his first instinct.

“Yeah?” Taehyung asks, trying not to sound defensive. Yoongi wavers a moment.

“Just be careful.”

Taehyung nods, shrinking a little in his seat. Yoongi’s already got his phone to his ear on the way out, but left alone, Taehyung’s staring at his own.

It’d been his first impulse to share the good news with Jimin. And it’s natural, because they’re friends. Beyond their arrangement, the two of them confirming that. He’s always excited to hear about Taehyung’s accomplishments, often hyping him up even more.

Even so, Yoongi’s warning had been clear—this is confidential information, sensitive, still in talks. It’s not to share without seriously thinking about.

But it’s Jimin, Taehyung decides, nodding to himself, feeling weird for hesitation and weirder still that he’s second guessing himself. Jimin’s different.

So he types out a gleeful message, after the customary caution that this isn’t public yet, just between the two of them. He lights up when Jimin’s already typing back immediately, three dots flashing.


no way
that’s amazing!!!
congratulations baby
when are we celebrating?







“This is amazing,” Taehyung breathes, after his third replay.

Jimin’s handed him his phone to show Taehyung his most recent choreography. Filmed by a student and surrounded by cheering others, Jimin’s a dizzying balance between fluid motions and sharp angles. The video’s only about a minute long, but it’s mesmerizing. Jimin seems amused, covering his face with a giggle when Taehyung hits to loop it again.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says. “I’m pretty fond of it, but I wanted to see what you’d think.”

“It’s amazing,” Taehyung repeats, finally tearing his eyes away. “Can you send this to me? You’re so talented, Jimin.”

“Really? Ah, fine,” Jimin surrenders, making a show of taking his phone back like he can’t believe Taehyung, but his smile’s glowing, tapping at his phone. A second later, Taehyung’s own buzzes in his pocket. “You should come by the studio after hours sometime.” He gives Taehyung a sly look. “Since I still haven’t danced for you.”

Even behind the mask he’s got on, Taehyung’s own smile grows to match Jimin’s, giddy. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.” Jimin says confidently, leaning close. The plaza outside the museum isn’t too badly crowded, groups and visitors in their own pockets away from where they’re seated on the benches, finishing the drinks they’d picked up before heading inside. So no one’s close enough to spare them a glance when Jimin says, “I’ve got a room with a pole.”

“Oh,” Taehyung sucks in a breath. “Really?”

“It’s good exercise,” Jimin says innocently. “I would love to dance for you.”

Taehyung swallows, trying not to picture it too clearly. Watching Jimin practice in his studio after hours, dancing for Taehyung, maybe even sliding into his lap and—nope. He’s in public, very in public, in broad daylight. Still he confirms, a little breathily, “I’d like that, too.”

Jimin looks over him once and gives him a smirk, before tossing his cup in the wastebasket and tugging Taehyung to his feet. “C’mon. Let’s check the place out.”

It’s true there’s any number of large, famous museums in Seoul. There’s always something about this one, though, a contemporary art gallery on the smaller size that had sprung up about a year or so ago and has acquired a decent following. It’s a calming place, and Taehyung finds himself stopping by often, has donated to it as well. He and Jimin get through the line quickly, Taehyung happy to see Jimin already taking in the arched entrance with wide eyes as he pays for tickets.

“So where are we going first?” Jimin asks once they step past the ticketing desk. He’s looking around appreciatively, something Taehyung’s excited to see.

Taehyung shuffles through the tickets and a few brochures he’d grabbed at the entrance. “We can go by section, or just wander, whatever you like. The next tour is in a half hour.” Jimin sticks his tongue out at that, and Taehyung laughs. “No tour?”

“You said you’d been here before, right?”

“Once or twice,” Taehyung says modestly.

“Well, I want to hear what you have to say.” Jimin declares. “I’d rather go at our own pace. Spend time with you. Today’s about you, after all.”

Taehyung huffs out a soft laugh. “You always say that.”

“It’s true,” Jimin insists. “And it’s especially true today. I’m so excited for you!” he says, hand clapping to his chest. “Ah, I can’t wait til everyone knows and I don’t have to swoon alone.”

Taehyung’s grateful for the mask to cover the blush he feels rising. “We don’t even know if I have it yet, Jimin. It’s just a reading.”

Jimin peers at him incredulously. “C’mon, you don’t really believe that, do you? There’s no way you won’t get it.”

“On whose authority?” Taehyung challenges, fighting to keep back the amused tone in his voice.

“Mine, obviously.” Jimin puffs himself up. “I’m always right. Shocked and offended you even doubted it. But besides that, have some faith in yourself. You’re you.”

He raises a brow. “Me?”

“You,” Jimin confirms. Taehyung crosses his arms, mostly teasing.

“That’s the only reason?”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “Because you’re handsome, smart and talented. Because they’d be lucky to have you. So, yes, because you’re you.”

Taehyung shoves lightly at his shoulder, and Jimin lets himself stagger back dramatically, grinning.

“I mean it. You’ll do great, so don’t worry about it.”

“You think so?” Taehyung asks modestly.

The look Jimin gives him is warm. “I know so.”

And Jimin’s right in that Taehyung knows the museum well, but he still insists on letting Jimin pick where they start, even as he laughs about it. Says there’s too many choices, and ends up standing in the center of the lobby, closing his eyes and spinning for a minute before pointing and taking them forward.

By chance it’s one of Taehyung’s favorites. He’s shy at first, but Jimin’s an excellent listener, quiet aside from encouraging Taehyung to go on as he describes each piece. It’s a geometric section all mesmerizing blocks and bold colors, and Taehyung’s voice grows more confident as he eases into it, referencing the booklets for artist information and assumed meaning behind each piece. He finds, however, he can’t look too closely at Jimin mid-description. Even as they move throughout other sections, the way Jimin watches him is too distracting. He glances at him once and pauses mid-sentence before looking away and back to the painting, Jimin’s gaze still embedded in his mind, open and intent and all trained on him.

“I think—this one is about peace,” Taehyung says softly. It’s abstract, strokes chaotic at first glance, but with prolonged inspection they all run the same way and shape a dove, wings all splattered in every hue. Above the breast bleeds red, dripping down and altogether too vibrant to ignore, dulling the other colors that might have stood out on their own. About peace, indeed, but a message none too positive.

Jimin considers a moment, glancing over the painting, the two of them standing in silence for a moment. Then— “That’s sad,” he says, frowning slightly. He looks at Taehyung. “It’s beautiful, but then...”

“Yeah,” Taehyung echoes. “Hey, this one is cheerier, though,” he gestures Jimin over to something by the same artist, unsure why he feels the need to bring back his smile. “See?”

By contrast to the bleak-and-scarlet of the last piece, this one’s all golden. It seems almost every shade of fire red and gold has been used to paint a sun setting into a complementary green tinted ocean. It’s bright to look at after the last one, and Taehyung’s happy to see Jimin likes it better, tilting his head with a smile.

“It makes me think of you,” he says after a minute. Taehyung raises a brow, gesturing for him to continue. “I mean, just look. It’s glowing.”

The two of them giggle to themselves, eliciting a glance from the only others in the room, a couple at the other side that move on through the next door. Jimin shakes his head.

“No, seriously, though,” he insists. “It’s prettyーLike you,” laughing a little at Taehyung’s resulting expression before saying. “I like this one a lot.”

“I do, too,” Taehyung replies softly. “It’s hard to look at anything else in the same room as it.”

Jimin tosses him a glance, playful smile rising. “Ah, I disagree,” he teases, chuckling when Taehyung groans at his flirting. “You’re so art, baby.”

They laugh again. The mood stays soft, and he feels it, too, like he’s glowing, paint-streaked sun rising on canvas over them. Something rises in him, sits on the tip of his tongue to blurt out.

“Hey…” Taehyung says suddenly, focusing on the packets in his hand. “I just wanted to say. Thank you. For, uh, coming here with me. I know it’s not as fancy as some other things we’ve done, or some other places I could’ve taken you…” He swallows. Jimin’s quiet so far, likely thinking just the same as Taehyung, back to some of the restaurants and stores they’ve gone to. “But I really like it here. I wanted to take you here. So, thank you.”

He finishes a little lamely, he thinks, but Jimin’s already got a hand reaching out over the brochures, over Taehyung’s.

“What are you thanking me for?” Jimin asks. Taehyung meets his eyes, and he looks confused. “This is nice, Tae. I’m having fun.”

“Okay,” Taehyung says back shyly. “I justーI don’t know. There’s more glamorous ways to celebrate.”

“And miss that sexy ass baritone telling me all about postmodernism? No way,” Jimin scoffs, then softens. “Hey. I mean it though. I’m having fun. Even ones I don’t like, it’s still fun watching you, hearing what you have to say. So…” he trails off a second, before shrugging. “This is nice. Don’t doubt that.”

“Okay,” Taehyung accepts, smiling gratefully. Jimin squeezes his hand. “Hey, do you mind if I…?”

The only word to describe Jimin’s face is affectionate when Taehyung slips his camera out of his bag. He’s glad Jimin convinced him of the purchase, has gotten good use out of it, everything shot from landscapes to places for both work and play. And Jimin doesn’t know it, but there’s a whole folder just of him, so often a muse when they’re spending time together. So it’s not weird when Taehyung raises the camera, snaps a few pictures of the paintings and then Jimin before them.

Time flies by after that, spent laughing and admiring and everything in between. The outing wraps up for them on the second floor, though; as abstract as the art style is, there’s little doubt the artist is portraying a coupling in the triptych, figures curled together and Taehyung’s throat closing analyzing it for Jimin. They barely have to glance at each other before they’re on their way out.

It’s halfway back to Jimin’s car that they see it. Rather, Jimin does, stopping and tugging on Taehyung’s arm to point it out. One stretch back through the center has three screens set into the wall. There’s a loop of the museum’s DVD, with directions to the center on the bottom. Another’s a birthday ad bought for some idol, and then—Taehyung almost doesn’t see the headline at first, eyes skipping over the entertainment news report. But then there’s a picture of himself superimposed, words below flashing—Model Kim Taehyung in talks for role in upcoming drama.

Jimin has to pull him back, keeping him moving from where Taehyung’s stopped and stared at the report in confusion.

“That’s not supposed to be up,” Taehyung hears himself mutter. Jimin tosses him a sharp glance. “That’s not—it’s not confirmed.”

“What do you mean?” Jimin asks when they’re a distance away. “It’s on TV, so it’s breaking news, right?”

“No, no one’s supposed to know yet,” Taehyung says, feeling disjointed. “I—I’m going to call my manager, okay?”

Jimin glances around, biting his lip. “Yeah. But let’s keep moving, okay? My car’s close.”

He’d kept his phone on silent today to immerse in the outing. The evidence of it is plain in the dozen messages and missed calls on the screen. Yoongi picks up halfway through the second ring. “Taehyung," instantly intent, “Where are you right now?”

“I’m—out,” Taehyung replies. His head’s a little fuzzy with something that’s not quite the beginnings of panic, but a distinct sinking, a feeling that belongs to the times when something that shouldn’t be happening is. “Did you see—?”

“Someone leaked,” Yoongi says, bitter. “We’re trying to pin it down, the producer too. Not a lot of people knew.”  He pauses. “Taehyung, you didn’t—”

“Never,” Taehyung says back instantly. “You know how much I want this.”

“I didn’t mean you.”

Taehyung half-missteps, Jimin reaching to steady him automatically. Taehyung glances at him, brow furrowing, then back away, already shaking his head. “No. No way.”

“So you didn’t tell anyone? You can say that confidently?”

Taehyung hesitates. It’s all Yoongi needs, swearing into the phone.

“Are you with him now?”

“I—” This time Taehyung barely pauses, forcing his voice. “I said there’s no way.”

“Well, that’s what KBS is saying about their people, too. Taehyung—”

“It’s not—” Taehyung says more heatedly, cutting off when Jimin glances at him with concern. Not him, he thinks, but his stomach’s starting to feel sick. “Where can I meet you?”

“...I’ll go to your apartment. I need to get away from this for a bit. Taehyung?”

Taehyung chews his lip, watching Jimin unlock his car and hold the door open for him, quiet. He murmurs a thank you and slides in, Jimin closing the door behind him and walking around to get into the driver’s seat.

“Promise me you’ll think about it. Don’t rule it out.”

“Okay,” Taehyung whispers as Jimin gets in beside him, tugging the door shut. “I’ll see you soon.”

Yoongi disconnects the line first. Taehyung holds the phone still for a moment, then drops his hand and his head back against the seat, sucking in a breath. He can sense Jimin’s eyes on him, but can’t quite meet them just yet.

“Tae,” Jimin says finally, soft, and Taehyung turns to look at him. He looks concerned, eyes darting over him, hands fluttering like he wants to touch and isn’t sure how to. “You doing okay?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung replies, stressing the self. “But...that wasn’t supposed to leak. They’re trying to figure out who it was.”

“It was a leak?” Jimin asks, eyes wide. Taehyung hesitates then nods, slowly. “From the company, you think it might’ve been someone you work with?”

Taehyung swallows, looking away. “I...they’re trying to figure it out,” he repeats lamely. Pauses, then sucks in a breath to steady himself. “Jimin, did you—you didn’t…” He trails off, unable to quite complete the inquiry.

Jimin’s eyebrows furrow a moment before shooting up when he catches on. “You mean did I leak? No way.”

“Are you...are you sure…?” Taehyung bites hard enough on his lip he’s surprised not to taste blood when he sees Jimin’s expression.

“What do you mean, ‘am I sure’?” he asks, narrowing his eyes and setting his chin stubbornly. “Yes, I’m sure. I wouldn’t do that, Taehyung.”

Taehyung thinks his hands might be sweating, if he weren’t too busy fisting them in the hem of his shirt, tugging anxiously. There’s a thick tension settling between the two of them, and he says nervously, “It’s just...KBS is saying it’s no one on their team,’re the only one I told.”

He finishes with his voice shrinking, because Jimin’s expression is rapidly fouling.

“You think I would do that?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “I don’t want to think you did. It’s just...with what we know, I have to ask.”

“I said I didn’t leak it,” Jimin says again, firmly. Taehyung’s at a loss of what to say, scared, feeling something between them he’s been taking for granted on the verge of snapping, and not sure what to say or how to save it. His silence condemns him, Jimin scoffing. “Oh, my god. I can’t believe this. You really don’t believe me, do you?”

Wavering, Taehyung reaches out. Jimin draws his hand back instantly as though stung. The motion hurts. “I’m not saying—I don’t think you would do it on purpose, but maybe—someone you know saw messages, or—”

“I delete all our messages,” Jimin says coldly. “Your name isn’t even saved in my phone, Taehyung. If you doubt my discretion, why are you even with me?”

“It’s not that,” Taehyung says. Frustration’s creeping under his skin and into his voice, and he hates it, but in the heat of the moment, it’s impossible to stop. “I’m just asking a simple question, because it looks bad.”

“But I said I didn’t and you won’t believe me!” Jimin snaps back. He’d told Taehyung before he’s got a temper, and Taehyung hadn’t believed him, but he can see it now. “Taehyung, I like you, but I don’t appreciate being accused of things I didn’t do.”

“I’m not accusing you,” Taehyung groans. “Why are you mad at me? All I’m saying is there might’ve been an accident.”

“And I’m saying there’s no way.”

“You won’t even consider it,” Taehyung says, feeling the beginnings of provocation.

Jimin folds his arms over his chest. “Because it’s an insult to my work,” he says bitterly. “If you think I’m on such an amateur level that I’d accidentally leak something like this, why the hell are you trusting me with anything else? And I don’t like that—why won’t you believe me? I—” Jimin cuts off suddenly, lip jutting out and staring straight ahead. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”


Taehyung looks away, irritable. A moment passes, and he chances a glance back at him. Jimin’s put his hands on the wheel even parked, gripping tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Are we…” Taehyung tries, voice small. “Are we fighting?”

It hurts even to say it. Jimin swallows visibly.

“I don’t want to fight with you,” he says finally, even quieter than Taehyung’s own voice. Before Taehyung can come up with a response, he sighs, looking down. “I think I’m done for the day. I’m going home.”

“...Okay,” Taehyung whispers.

Jimin doesn’t look at him as he asks, stiffly, “Do you need a ride?”

“I…” Taehyung wavers before fleeing. He opens the door. “I’ll get a cab.”

Jimin doesn’t reply. Even as he closes the door behind him, standing on the curb, Taehyung regrets it. He turns to call back to Jimin, but he’s already pulled out of the spot and speeding away.







“Okay,” Yoongi says, not quite pacing, but tensed enough it’s affecting the whole room. “Let’s think about this. Go over it one more time.”

“I already told you everything,” Taehyung mutters.

Even with his arm thrown over his eyes as he lays back on his sofa, Taehyung can feel Yoongi’s eyes on him. He hasn’t been accusing, not yet, but he’s definitely on edge, and it’s not helping the ache that’s beginning between Taehyung’s temples.

“And he insists it wasn’t him,” Yoongi clarifies. He sounds doubtful.

“Yes,” Taehyung insists, sitting up. “I—I believe him. You didn’t see his face, I think...I think he’s mad at me,” his voice drops low, miserable. “I kept pushing, Yoongi. I didn’t feel like I was accusing him, but now...”

“It might’ve still been him,” Yoongi says, but Taehyung’s shaking his head before the sentence even finishes. “It could’ve been accidental.”

“We never even mention my name in messages,” Taehyung says. “He said it’s not even saved in his phone.”


“I believe him,” Taehyung repeats, more firmly. Then he deflates to remember. “I just wish I’d said so then. I got so scared in the moment, and I just…”

Yoongi seems to fold looking at his face, heaving out a sigh and sitting down beside him. “Look,” he says. “This is going to get sorted out. And when it does, his name will come out clear then, right?” Taehyung falters, but Yoongi continues, his logic sound. “Even before then, I think he should understand. You...You’re close, right?”

Taehyung swallows. Almost like he’s been taking it for granted, he voices in a whisper what he’s long suspected, but only realizing aloud now: “He’s my best friend.”

“Then he’ll understand,” Yoongi says. He pauses. “...friend?”

Taehyung frowns at him. “Yeah. He’s my friend.”

“Huh,” Yoongi says. “It just...seemed like more, I guess.” he pauses, with an air of choosing his words delicately. “From how you’ve been acting.”

It only serves to stir a pang in Taehyung. He looks away.

“And I could lose it,” he says quietly. “God, I don’t want to. I didn’t even realize how much he’s been helping me, and I could’ve shoved him away over—over something so stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” Yoongi says. “It’s your career, Taehyung.”

“But I didn’t have to accuse him.” he bites his lip. “At least, not after he denied it.”

“Do you think…” Yoongi cuts himself off, looking to reconsider his words immediately. But Taehyung gestures for him to continue. “Try not to take this the wrong way. I have to you think there’s a chance he’ll retaliate?”


“Go public about you,” Yoongi says. “In retaliation. Even if you, uh, say you’re not dating. Should we get a story ready?”

Again Taehyung’s shaking his head before he’s finished, this time more frantically. “No. No way,” he says. “He wouldn’t do that.”

“You won’t even consider it?”

Taehyung stiffens, the question so similar to what he’d asked Jimin. Flipped, now, he hesitates, but his answer comes just as sure.

“He wouldn’t do that,” Taehyung repeats. “He...cares about me, too. I’m sure of it.” He thinks to the museum before the day had gone wrong, to the way Jimin’s eyes had looked talking about their arrangement. Reassured, Taehyung nods his head more firmly. “There’s not a chance of it. I realize that now. And besides, his business is discrete.”

“If you say so,” Yoongi begins, but trails off slowly, something else catching his attention now. He’s quiet for a moment, turning his head to look at Taehyung. “What do you mean, ‘business’?”

“Uh,” Taehyung balks, stomach dropping. “You know. Like, his nature. It’s just not his, business, nature, in personality,…”

The look Yoongi gives him is slack-jawed. “You’re using an escort service?”

“No!” Taehyung shakes his head, laughing nervously. “No, no. You’ve got it all wrong.”

“Then what kind of business are you talking about?” Yoongi squints at him.

“It’s not—” Taehyung racks his brain. “It’s...a relationship.”

His expression doesn’t change. “...You said it wasn’t a relationship.”

“It’s not. Well, it is, kind of? It’s complicated.” Taehyung almost babbles. The look of confusion and suspicion he’s receiving doesn’t improve one bit, but he knows he’s not ready to have a talk about being a Sugar Daddy™ yet, especially not with everything else on Yoongi's plate today. Finally he sighs. “Look,” he says, trying for his best, wide-eyed look. “Haven’t I been happier recently?”

“Don’t,” Yoongi starts, but it’s weak.

“That’s all him,” Taehyung says softly. “I’ve been so caught up with work the last two years. And I like it, I do. But I like having something to look forward to, something outside of all this,” he gestures. It’s the truth, too. His sessions and outings with Jimin are the most welcome of stress relief and distractions, and Taehyung feels another pang to think it might now be gone. “You know I wouldn’t jeopardize this, that I’m careful. I trust him. And you trust me, so trust him, too.”

“I—” Yoongi looks ready to concede, but he’s interrupted by the ringing of his phone. Snapping his attention instantly, he rises and reaches for it, stance tense. “Hello?”

Taehyung doesn’t even realize he’s got his nails digging into his thighs until Yoongi turns back around, face unreadable. But then it smooths, shoulders sagging, and he’s offering acknowledgments before hanging up.

“They figured it out,” he says, and Taehyung’s shoulders sag, sighing out. “An intern with the producers sold the story.”

“Okay,” Taehyung replies, numbly. Relief’s spreading through him, slow but sure. Even though he’d already decided Jimin was in the clear, hearing it is another thing entirely, bringing comfort as well as a fresh wave of regret.

Yoongi continues. “The reading’s still on, though.” Taehyung perks up at that, daring to hope. “There was apparently, um, a pretty positive response to the news. Trended and everything. They’re even more interested now.”

“Oh,” Taehyung breathes, giddy. “Wow.”

“Yeah," Yoongi gives him a smile, and that’s all it takes, before he’s falling back down on the couch and giving Taehyung a hug. “It’s worked out. It’s fine. We’re good.”

“I’m so happy? I’m so—” Taehyung freezes, though, remembering. “Wait, I—I can’t celebrate yet.” he swallows guiltily. “I have to apologize. To him.”

Yoongi pulls back, eyeing him for a moment before surrendering. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I’m...sorry for doubting. I do trust you, I do. It’s other people I worry about."

“I know you just don’t want me to be hurt,” Taehyung says softly. “Thank you.”

“I can...I can give you a ride, if you need it.” Yoongi offers. He lifts his phone again, glancing at the time. “I told Hoseok I needed to cancel with this mess, but it looks like it all worked out…”

“Go!” Taehyung insists, shoving at his shoulder. Yoongi groans. “Go, go, go. Call him right now. I’m insisting. And make sure you try the scones.”

“How do you know where we’re going?” Yoongi shoots him a scandalized glance, Taehyung snapping his mouth shut all too late. “Of course he told you.”

“I’m just happy for you,” Taehyung whines. “You deserve time off.”

Yoongi gives another one of his groans, but it’s weak, the tips of his ears coloring pink. “You know what—nevermind. Also, Déjà Brew? Really? Did you suggest that knowing how turned off I’d be?”

“Just looking out for you,” Taehyung says innocently. His mood deflates, though, when Yoongi reaches for his keys, remembering Jimin. Glancing to his own phone, there’s no new messages or calls. Yoongi catches it, grabbing for his hand.

“Come on,” he says. “You won’t know until you try."







Taehyung has only been to Jimin’s apartment once before, and it was to drive by when Jimin had forgotten something of his. He knows the address, though, has had gifts sent straight to his house upon ordering. A simple routing later, they’ve pulled up across the street.

“Do you want me to hang around?” Yoongi asks when he steps out. Taehyung hesitates before shaking his head, offering a smile.

“Enjoy your date,” he says. “I’ll be fine.”

Yoongi looks for a moment like he’s wavering on the brink of argument, but something in Taehyung’s eyes must convince him. He shrugs.

“Okay,” he says. “And Taehyung?”

Taehyung half-turns back, hand on the door.

“I know—I can see that this means a lot to you,” he says. “So...I hope it works out. And if it doesn't, you know I'm here for you, but still—Good luck.”

Taehyung gives him a grateful smile, nodding. After closing the door behind him he stands a moment on the curb before gathering himself up and striding purposefully up the walkway. All the way to Jimin’s door, and the anxiety only increases with each step. It goes all too fast, and he shudders out a breath before straightening up and ringing the bell, package clutched behind him.

There’s thirty seconds or so where nothing happens, but it doesn’t let the tension decrease any less. Instead it’s only worse, waiting each moment for the door to swing open and anxiety increasing the next when it doesn’t. At a minute he wonders if he should knock, because he’d seen Jimin’s car parked, which means he’s being ignored or the bell doesn’t work—and come this far he might as well go the whole mile, raising up his hand to knock on the door.

Of course that’s when it swings open, Taehyung freezing with his hand poised mid-air. Jimin’s expression hardens when he sees him. He stares at him a second, waiting for Taehyung to speak, and he manages,

“Can we talk?”

Jimin looks over him a second before stepping aside. Gingerly Taehyung follows suit, stepping inside though lingering close to the door even as Jimin clicks it shut behind him.

“They…” Taehyung’s sure he’d had a speech planned, but in the moment, Jimin’s eyes on him, guarded and a little sad, he blurts it out immediately, awkward. “They found the source of the leak. It was an intern with the company, no one from us.” He hesitates. “No one related to me.”

Jimin looks down. “Okay.”

Taehyung waits for more, but that seems to be all Jimin’s going to say for now. Heart sinking, he continues, trying to recall what he’d gone over. “And...I wanted to apologize. If you’ll hear me out. Because I handled that really badly, Jimin. I should’ve believed you, I know you wouldn’t lie, I just…” he swallows, rambling now. “I got scared, but even so, I don’t want to fight with you. I should’ve believed you the first time you denied it. And I’m sorry.”

He trails off a little lamely, because Jimin doesn’t look up once. Finally, after a moment of quiet, Jimin says, “Okay.”

Taehyung bites his lip. “Okay…?”

Finally Jimin looks up. “I heard you out. And now I wanna say something, too, if I can.”

Instantly Taehyung nods, gesturing. Jimin exhales steadily before straightening up. Taehyung tenses when he meets his eyes, but Jimin seems to soften.

“I understand,” Jimin says, and Taehyung stands up a little, dares to hope. “I regret how I acted. From the moment I drove away. I thought a lot about it, I was, uh…” Jimin looks embarrassed, bringing a hand up to scratch at his chin. “I was kind of trying to figure out how I’d talk to you. But you beat me to it."

Heart hammering, Taehyung shakes his head. “I couldn’t wait. Thinking you were upset with me.”

“No!” Jimin shakes his head. “Well, a little, at first. But I thought about it,’re trusting a lot to me, Taehyung.” Taehyung furrows his brow, and Jimin emphasizes, “You do. You have a very public presence, public life. You trust a lot to me with this arrangement. And I know that, I do. I understand what you worry could happen to you, so I should’ve understood why you were afraid.”

Taehyung swallows thickly. “Still...” he mumbles.

“Still,” Jimin emphasizes, “I want you to know that I consider you a friend. Even outside our arrangement. It’s not just discretion, beyond the contract.” Jimin manages a half-smile at him, eyes still sad but determined now. “I would never want to hurt you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung can’t help but reach for Jimin’s hand. Jimin allows it, fingers playing between them.

“I know,” Taehyung says softly. “I consider you my friend, too, Jimin. Even though I was scared...even though I was warned you could retaliate if we fought, I knew you wouldn’t. I know you. I should’ve remembered that, even in the heat of the moment.”

Jimin’s forehead creases at the mention of retaliation. His hand stills as he takes a deep breath. “I’m not that kind of person.”

Taehyung falters. “I know, I—”

Jimin holds up his hand. “My turn, now, okay?” Taehyung hesitates, but nods. “I’m not that kind of person. But—like I said, I understand. I understand why you got scared, and I shouldn’t have gotten so mad. And...I’ll prove it to you, Taehyung.” For the first time he smiles, small but shy. Taehyung’s heart leaps. “So I’d like to prove it to you. That you can trust me. If you’ll let me have that chance.”

Taehyung feels his grin spreading before he’s consciously aware of it. He squeezes Jimin’s hand in his, pulling it to his chest. “Of course,” he breathes. “Yes? Yes. Always."

Without hesitation, they find themselves tugged into each other’s arms. Jimin squeezes him tightly, and Taehyung buries his head against Jimin’s hair, soothed by the hug and new understanding.

“So we’re okay?” Jimin asks, voice small, and muffled against Taehyung’s chest.

“I’m okay if you are. More than okay,” Taehyung reassures. In response Jimin rubs his back a moment before they pull back, smiling at each other.

“Do you have to go now, or...?” Jimin asks, tilting his head. “I cleared my whole day for you, you know.”

Taehyung laughs sheepishly, following Jimin in. The place is nice, decently clean under an understandable build of clutter, and very much him in so many little ways.

“Sorry I kinda ruined your big day,” Jimin says. Taehyung’s shaking his head no even before he’s taking a seat on the sofa beside him.

“It’s fine now,” he dismisses, waving his hand before adding a sly, “We’ll just have to have an even better celebration if I get the role.”

Jimin brightens up visibly. “The reading’s still on?”

“Yep,” Taehyung confirms, smiling humbly when Jimin pulls him into another hug. “Apparently, uh, the response to the news was all really positive.”

“I wonder why,” Jimin teases him. “I’m so glad. I was worried.” Then he half-pulls back. “So, is it too soon to ask what package you’ve been clutching onto this whole time?”

Taehyung looks down at the wrapped box he’d forgotten in the moment. “Oh, I—” Sheepishly he offers it out to Jimin, who accepts it with a raised brow. “It’s for you.”

“Can I open it now?” Jimin peels back Taehyung’s hasty wrapping job when Taehyung nods to reveal the Gucci branding. “Tae…”

“I’m not—I promise I wasn’t, like, trying to buy you back, or anything,” Taehyung insists, raising his hands up defensively as he feels himself redden. Jimin’s lips twitch in a smile. “I actually bought this a week ago, and I forgot to bring it today. So I figured, you know, I could hand it off, even if you didn’t want to see me again…”

“Of course I want to see you again,” Jimin seems offended. “Trust me, Taehyung. I was maybe an hour away from sending your phone bill through the roof.”

“As though I wouldn’t have picked up on the first ring…” Taehyung bites back his smile. “As though I wouldn’t have unlimited everything. Who do you think I am?”

Jimin rolls his eyes good naturedly, but stills when he opens the box.

“Um, wow. This is,” he says finally, still looking down at the watch inside. “Really nice, Taehyung.”

Heart a nervous flutter, Taehyung peeks at Jimin under his eyelashes, biting his lip.

“Do it?” he asks, unsure why he’s suddenly so anxious. Jimin tosses his head a little as if to clear it.

“I do,” he says, and Taehyung relaxes, cheeks aching with his smile. Jimin doesn’t protest when Taehyung reaches for his wrist, nodding at his mumbled let me as he helps fasten it on his wrist. “I always treat me so well. You don’t have to get me as many gifts as you do, but you do anyway. It’s nice.”

Shyly, Taehyung says, “You must’ve only had splenda daddies before me.”

Jimin laughs at that, his gorgeous-full body giggle, and swats at Taehyung playfully. “Look at you,” he teases. “Learning the lingo and everything.”

Taehyung laughs with him, and Jimin pokes at his cheek. “Hey,” he says. “Are you really okay with giving me this? You already gave me more than enough this month, you know.”

Taehyung shrugs, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m sure.” he smiles. “I just like treating you.” a pause, then, “Like you, I guess.”

“You guess,” Jimin huffs and rolls his eyes again, but it’s good naturedly. “In that case, you never answered me when I asked how much time you have today.”

“You’re the only thing on my schedule, too,” Taehyung replies slyly. “What do you have in mind?”

Jimin grins, somehow all-too-innocent even as he runs his eyes slowly over Taehyung. “Well,” he says. “You’ve never been over here before, have you? It’s a two bedroom.”

“Uh,” Taehyung blinks at him, unsure he’s heard correctly, misread where Jimin was going with this. “You have a roommate?”

Jimin tilts his head, running his tongue out over his bottom lip and laughing when Taehyung’s eyes fall to it. “Nope,” he says. “I live alone.”

Taehyung catches on. “Then…”

“I’ve got a pseudo-office, just for clients,” Jimin murmurs, hand finding Taehyung’s thigh. “Lots of equipment. What do you say we make sure you have trouble sitting down tomorrow?”

Taehyung’s mouth dries. “I think I’d like that.”

Jimin’s smile is the only answer he needs, closing the gap between them in a kiss.


Chapter Text





Before him, chest heaving slightly, Jimin holds a finishing pose. Taehyung’s clapping even before the song’s over.

“Jimin,” he says, “That was amazing.”

Jimin holds the pose another second before dropping it with a laugh. “Taehyung,” he mimics, folding his arms across his chest, “You said that about the last three dances I showed you."

It’s hard to take anything Jimin says to heart, his appearance far too distracting. They’re in his studio after-hours, Jimin picking him up for a promised tour and teasing recital. Taehyung’s certain it’s like his birthday and Christmas all in one (a phenomena he’s quite familiar with, actually, considering the proximity of the dates) with the ultimate gift being Park Jimin dancing solely for him, brow a sheen of sweat and tank top lifting to show his stomach when he brushes back at his hair.

He tries not to drool and reply to the question anyway. “Because they’re all amazing, Jimin,” he says, certain he’d swear it on his life. Jimin gives him a slanted grin as he goes for his water bottle, tipping his head back to drink and likely confident that Taehyung’s staring at his throat. He’s right.

“Maybe I can give you lessons sometime,” Jimin teases, toeing playfully at him. Taehyung grins up at him from the chair he’s seated in against the wall. “During the day might not work so well, of course, but I might be willing to make arrangements for some special night classes.”

“You managed to say that so innocently,” Taehyung marvels.

“I meant it. Mostly. I mean, of course we’d get up to more than dancing,” Jimin leans over him, arm on the back of the chair, and slips a finger under Taehyung’s chin to tilt it up. Taehyung follows the motion obediently, jaw slack. “You wouldn’t believe the things you can explore with mirrors. Or maybe you would, your eyes just lit up real cute, Tae,” he laughs. Taehyung can’t muster shame enough to look embarrassed. “But you know how to follow the rhythm from runways, and you’ve got a figure for it. I’d teach you.”

Taehyung bites his lip, scanning Jimin’s face for a hint it’s a joke. Jimin looks serious. “Maybe someday, then,” he says shyly. “I think I like the sound of that.”

Jimin raises an eyebrow. “Like the sound of learning to dance, or of being my student?” he teases.

“Decline to comment.”

“S’not an interview, darling,” Jimin snorts. “Anyway. Think you’ve been patient enough to earn the pole?”

Taehyung’s mouth dries. “Please,” he emphasizes, eyeing the corner of the room. He’s loved watching Jimin dance, of course, all sharp angles falling into fluid rhythm, but he’d be lying to say he hasn’t been anticipating what Jimin had promised him.

In the farthest corner of this room, there’s a sturdy looking pole Jimin had promised to demonstrate on for him. Jimin gestures for him to stand, and when Taehyung follows, Jimin picks up the chair by its back in one hand and grabs Taehyung’s in his other. Once they’ve crossed the room he looks to calculate the distance, musing a second before dropping the chair beside and facing away from the pole at what seems to be a satisfactory distance to him. He squeezes Taehyung’s hand once more before letting go. Taehyung sits, butterflies in his stomach, smoothing the legs of his trousers nervously.

“Got a song request?” Jimin asks. Taehyung shakes his head, coming up blank. Jimin’s likely got a soundtrack, anyway, one he’s used to that’ll be better than anything Taehyung could suggest off the top of his head. The guess is probably right, given by the way Jimin smiles to himself and walks back to flip through his phone before setting it back down beside the speaker. A second later a slower song is flowing through the speakers, sensuality with a beat.

When Jimin walks back to him, he stands beside Taehyung a moment, hands on his shoulders. Taehyung swallows, watching the two of them in the mirror—watches Jimin’s hands work at his shoulders in a reassuring half-massage, sees him lean down before he feels his breath on his hair.

“I want you to keep still for me. Just relax, okay?” Jimin murmurs, and when Taehyung nods, he leans in to press a kiss to his cheek. “Good boy. You can watch in the mirror.”

One last squeeze to his shoulder, and then Jimin walks around to stand in front of him a ways away. He rolls his shoulders once, and then a sly wink is the only warning Taehyung gets before Jimin’s leaning down to splay his palms to the floor, bent in half with his legs kept completely straight. In one swift motion and timed to the beat, he drops into a perfect side split, bouncing once before tossing his chin up to grin at Taehyung through his bangs.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathes. “God.”

Jimin lowers himself forward, pressing his torso to the ground, and then shifts his weight forward before slowly, but surely, raising himself up on his arms, then hands. Taehyung feels his jaw drop to watch the muscles in his arms bulge as Jimin pushes himself up into a handstand, holding it for a moment before turning in a circle, legs parting back into splits as he lowers himself down onto Taehyung’s lap. Taehyung catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, lips parted and eyes glazed, before Jimin sits up, leaning back into Taehyung’s chest and working his hips down to the song.

Jimin meets Taehyung’s gaze in the reflection, seated so perfectly in his lap, and reaches a hand up to cup his cheek before whispering, “My name’s Jimin, actually.”

Jimin sticks his tongue out at Taehyung’s eye roll, then reaches his arms back behind his head and Taehyung’s, securing a grip on the pole. He pushes himself up off Taehyung’s lap and back onto his feet, spine curved. With a kick up he’s lifting himself back up over Taehyung, Taehyung watching in awe of him as he wraps his legs around the pole, hanging upside down and catching Taehyung’s eyes in the reflection. Still dangling, he brings one hand up in a peace sign to his cheek.

“Holy shit,” Taehyung mumbles, head buzzing. “You—You’re—”

“Yeah?” Jimin asks, so casually, like he’s in any other position than how he’s currently letting his legs fall back apart, even upside down, before rewrapping them around the pole to hook it in the crook of a knee. His shirt falls, revealing the flex of his abdomen that betrays the work behind making it seem so easy.

“So strong,” Taehyung finishes, shivering. “So hot.”

Jimin beams at him. “Praise me just like that,” he purrs, pulling himself up so he’s no longer upside down before spinning down the pole. At the proper height he swings his leg wide, landing himself right back in Taehyung’s lap, this time facing him. “Hey,” he greets cutely, hooking his arms around Taehyung’s neck.

Taehyung’s surprised his mouth’s still working properly. “Hi?” he manages, licking his lips. Giggling, Jimin leans in for a kiss. When they separate, he tries to sort his words. “God, you’re so—so good. Dancer.”

Jimin considers him a moment before grinning. “I mean,” he drawls, “I should hope so, considering this is my job.”

Taehyung flushes and rolls his eyes. “I mean, even beyond that…” he sighs dreamily, bringing his hands up to Jimin’s hips. “You’re amazing, Jimin.”

Jimin pretends to brush it off, but Taehyung can see him mentally preening, straightening up. “Well, it’s good exercise,” he says primly. “And a lot of practice.”

“It paid off,” Taehyung declares, running a hand up Jimin’s chest. “Though for a second there I did worry you were going to kick me in the face.”

Jimin chuckles, leaning closer like it’s a secret. “Only if you’re into that, sweetheart.”

Taehyung pouts at him. “You’re trying to get me worked up,” he accuses, and groans when Jimin’s response is to make a show of running his tongue over his lips.

“Is it working?”

“You know it is,” Taehyung bites back a moan when Jimin starts to purposely grind down on him. “But I—Jimin, there’s actually something I wanted, want to, talk to you about. But I probably should’ve said it before, you’ve got me very, ah, distracted. Right now.”

“Oh, no,” Jimin says, not sounding sorry in the slightest. “Do you need me to take care of you?”

He accentuates the question with another shameless circle of his hips. Taehyung sucks in a breath, trying to count himself to calm, and breathlessly manages, “You know I have to make a dinner later...”

Coyly, Jimin presses a chaste kiss to the corner of Taehyung’s mouth, working to dot littler ones down his jaw. When he reaches Taehyung’s neck, he whispers against his skin, “Bet you got ready for me just in case, though.”

“I—” He’s not wrong. Taehyung swallows, closing his eyes and tipping his head back almost unconsciously to allow Jimin better access. Jimin seizes it. “I got off. Before you picked me up.” he admits. Jimin noses at his neck, encouraging him to continue. “Thinking about you.”

“Naturally,” Jimin murmurs. He runs his fingers back up Taehyung’s neck to work into his hair soothingly. “What’d you think about?”

“About—this. Tonight,” Taehyung shivers. Through practice Jimin’s found a perfect balance of how he can play with Taehyung without leaving lasting marks, and he takes advantage of it to mouth at his neck now. “How you’d look dancing. Just for me. How hot it’d be to have you in your studio.”

Jimin looks appreciative. “It would be,” he says, and kisses the hollow of Taehyung’s throat. “Wanna know what I’d do? Mm, I’d fuck you open against the mirror, let you watch yourself fall apart. Bet you’d fog it up while you tried not to drool all over yourself, and I’d make you lick my floor clean where you spilled on it, messy boy.”

His cock jumps in interest, and Taehyung bites back a moan, knowing he’s reached his limit for teasing. “Jimin,” he nearly pants. “My dinner.”

“Sorry, baby,” Jimin laughs, sitting back up. “I’ve been doing some phone sessions recently, my descriptions have been on point. But you’ve got your dinner. Don’t wanna limp in, do you?”

“That is—starting to feel like a problem for future Taehyung,” he admits breathlessly. Jimin’s laugh is soft. “But I—I really do want to talk to you about something. More than I want to play around, even. ...Can I?”

“Of course,” Jimin settles back. “Next time.”

Taehyung sighs. “Definitely next time,” he agrees. “But…” Now that he’s got the chance to say what he’s been considering, it seems to come harder, made no easier by their current position. He does his best to gather himself up anyway, slowing his breathing. “I ask you about your birthday.”

The topic change gives even him whiplash. Jimin blinks at him once. “What about it?”

There’s no immediate avoidance, which is a good sign. As long as he can keep himself calm, because just thinking about what he’s been considering has a different kind of butterfly blossoming back in Taehyung’s stomach. “Well,” he ventures, “It’s coming up next month, isn’t it?”

“Mhm,” Jimin tilts his head. “The thirteenth. What,” he teases, “You starting to worry about a gift?”

“Sort of,” Taehyung admits. “What do you normally do for your birthday?”

Jimin considers, then shrugs. “Not much. Turn a year older, I guess. Why?”

“I…” Taehyung takes a deep breath. This is it. “I’ve thought about it lots, and I wanted to do something nice for you. Maybe...possibly. If you were okay with it. I could...take you somewhere?”

“Oh?” Taehyung’s relieved to see a smile, rather than apprehension, pull at Jimin’s expression. “What are you thinking?”

Taehyung hesitates. This is the part, he thinks, that might be hardest. “Well. ...Do you have a passport?”

Jimin’s brow shoots up. “I do, yes.” his smile stretches a little wider, eyes scanning Taehyung’s face. Taehyung matches the expression, relieved he’s not recoiling. “So where are we going?”

Shyly, Taehyung asks, “Is that a yes?”

“Tae.” Jimin shoves lightly at his chest, and Taehyung laughs quietly, ducking his head.

“I know—” he can’t quite bring himself to raise his eyes back to Jimin. “That there’s extra compensation, usually, for time longer than our arrangement, especially a trip. I did the research. But I’m willing. I haven’t taken any vacation time in years, and I thought, I don’t know. That if you didn’t mind, it might be nice…”

“So, you…want to take me on a vacation with you?” Jimin clarifies. Taehyung nods, and dares to glance up at Jimin. He looks thoughtful, then drops: “Not exactly a conversation I pictured having with your dick poking into my leg.”

Taehyung flushes, and throws his head back, shoving weakly again at Jimin, who catches his arms with a laugh. “Whose fault is that?” he pretends to complain before sobering. “I mean, if it makes you feel better, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. Way before you did that to fall onto my lap.”

“Cute,” Jimin says quietly, looping his arms back around Taehyung’s neck to rub at the back of his neck. Taehyung tips his head back into the touch, sighing, still a mess of anxiety and unsure exactly why—but Jimin doesn’t seem to be uncomfortable. “How long were you thinking?”

Taehyung bites his lips. “I mean, to really enjoy the time traveling… maybe two weeks?” he asks hopefully, and regrets it almost immediately. “Of course, only if you want to,” he amends hastily. “If you don’t want to be gone that long, or go at all. Especially since it’s your birthday, you know? If you’d rather spend time with friends or something, that’s fine, too.”

Jimin doesn’t look too taken aback, just weighs it a second. “You are my friend,” he replies, smiling at Taehyung. “I...huh. I just never do much, might be nice to, you know?” He muses aloud. Like he’s realizing something, he adds slowly, “and it’d be with you. It’d be nice to be with you…” his eyes widen slightly, and he shakes his head, refocusing on Taehyung with a hint of concern. “But what about you? You have that much time?”

Taehyung tries not to wince. Technically, he hasn’t mentioned it to anyone, yet, but he’d decided he’d rather be rejected before working through an explanation. “I’m not doing any walks this fall,” he settles on carefully. “It should be fine.”

Jimin’s too smart for his own good, catching on with his smile twitching at his lips. “You haven’t cleared it yet, have you?” he guesses.

Taehyung shrugs guiltily. “I wanted to hear what you had to say first,” he says, and eyes Jimin a little hopefully. Jimin’s quiet a second before nodding.

“See if you can work it out,” he says, and despite himself Taehyung feels a grin break over his face, arms coming up to tug around Jimin, who smiles down at him. “And I’ll see about clearing my schedule.”







“So let me get this straight,” Yoongi says, massaging at his temples. “The person you’ve been in a relationship with—”

“An arrangement,” Taehyung corrects, then shrinks. “To be technical.”

Yoongi stares at him a second before continuing, albeit slower.

“ a professional dom, who is now your sugar baby.”

“He’s also a dance instructor,” Hoseok supplies helpfully from beside Yoongi. “I think it’s cool.”

It feels a little odd to be talking about Jimin at his friend’s cafe, but Jin’s proven to be discreet and left them to a table farther back from the entrance. Surprisingly, Taehyung hadn’t been the one to suggest it; when he’d called Yoongi and asked to talk to him about his upcoming plans, Yoongi had invited him to meet at Deja Brew. He’d already been there with Hoseok, information Taehyung would’ve ordinarily leapt upon for teasing, but has been trying not to comment upon for extra points considering the bomb he’d been about to drop. Taehyung’s grateful, though, because Hoseok seems to be intrigued, even on his side. Yoongi on the other hand is a bit harder to read, seemingly focused more on the dynamic of the relationship itself than the request Taehyung had made. He wishes it were the other way around, as he’d really rather not go into more explicit detail. It’d been hard enough skirting over how they’d met.

“And you want to take him on vacation with you,” Yoongi repeats back. “For two weeks?”

Taehyung shifts in his seat. Shrugging to make it casual, he explains, “It’s his birthday.”

“His birthday lasts two weeks?”

“Yoongi, relax,” Hoseok scolds. He breaks off a piece of a scone and shoves it at Yoongi’s face, reassuring, “I think it’s cute, Taehyung.”

It takes extra willpower to not laugh at the way Yoongi accepts the bite of scone, cheeks puffing out. The effect is comical, because he still looks preoccupied with considering the mechanics of what Taehyung had explained as briefly as he possibly could. But he’s trying to come clean about the arrangement and get Yoongi’s support—he’s more than a manager. He’s his friend, even if how painfully whipped he is for Hoseok is a hilarious teasing point on any other day.

Instead Taehyung puffs up with the support. “I want to treat him,” he says enthusiastically. “He really, really deserves it. Besides, I’m no splenda daddy.”

Recovering with a forced swallow, Yoongi squints at him. “A what?”

“Oh, my god,” Hoseok says in awe. “I think I get it. It means cheap, right?”

Taehyung nods, matching his grin. Yoongi just looks pained.

“I just...really want Taehyung to stop calling himself daddy,” he shakes his head. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more in my life.”

“I’ll never say it again if you think about clearing my schedule,” Taehyung pleads, crossing his heart. “Look, I haven’t taken a vacation in two years. Do you know how much time off everyone I know takes? I’m not even sure if I’m friends with half of them anymore because I keep turning down invitations to go anywhere.”

“Okay, first off,” Yoongi folds his arms across his chest. “I would like to point out that you are definitely still friends with almost the entire industry. I’ve never seen anyone make connections like you do. It’s a little alarming. And second,” he holds up two fingers, “That hard work is partially the reason why you’re on top right now, clean record, you know. Some of those friends could learn a thing or two, especially since last month was your fourth time turning down a yacht weekend with that twink from Givenchy’s last ready to wear.”

Taehyung frowns at him. In his humble, but honest, opinion, being on top is absolutely all due to looks and talent and work, not his attendance. He lets the correction go for another day. They all have to sleep at night somehow.

“Even so,” Taehyung replies. He can’t even feel guilty knowing he’s going for his best pout, voice emotional. Still, what he says is entirely serious. “He’s made me so happy. I want to repay him somehow. He’s used to gifts, I want—I want to treat him,” he finishes, setting his shoulders. “He deserves it.”

Yoongi chews at his lip a moment before sighing. “You have seemed happier,” he admits, voice softer. “That’s because of him?”

Taehyung nods firmly. “It’s nice,” he says, heart swelling as he searches for the right words to say. “To have someone disconnected from everything, to have a distraction. An escape. When I get stressed. He’s there, to vent to, to relax with. ...In uh, more ways than one.”

Yoongi looks like he makes an effort to ignore the innuendo in the last part of that. “I’m glad for that,” he says, “I am, Taehyung. I want you to be happy, just—you know I worry. You know I do.”

“I know,” Taehyung bites his lip, chancing a glance at Hoseok, who’s watching Yoongi carefully. “But I’m being careful.”

“I know you are,” Yoongi says immediately, shaking his head. “I trust you. It’s others I don’t trust. Even with the best of intentions,” he insists when Taehyung opens his mouth to argue that, “What if something goes wrong? What if you two fight again? You’ve worked so hard to get where you are. We both know that. But he could turn everything on you, Taehyung. A relationship would be one thing, I’ve told you that’s fine but—with this, he could say anything. He could talk to press, say you’ve been soliciting him for sex.”

“I think that’s technically what Taehyung did?” Hoseok mumbles to himself, muffling a yelp when Taehyung kicks at him under the table. Taehyung keeps his eyes fixed on Yoongi instead.

“I get where you’re coming from,” Taehyung says quietly. “And I’m glad you worry about me. I know you care. But...I trust him. I do. Look, I know how it sounds. I know. But—it’s not just an arrangement, Yoongi. That time we fought...I was so miserable, and I know he was, too. And what hurt him the most was that I’d even considered he’d talk about me! We’re friends, more than anything. Just with, like, the most amazing benefits you could imagine.”

Yoongi doesn’t even make a face that time, lost in thought. Finally he sighs, sitting up and stretching out a hand across the table.

“Okay,” he says, and Taehyung beams, grabbing for his hand. “I’ll clear your schedule. I trust you. It’s obvious you’re happy, so I'm happy, too,” he smiles at him, but then adds hastily, “As long as we don’t have to hear any more of the...details.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung breathes, “Thank you? You’re the best. I’m going to get you the greatest souvenir. I won’t ask for anything else for at least a week. I’ll never retire, even when I’m old and have to move on to modeling, like, diapers for the elderly.”

Yoongi doesn’t quite snatch his hand back, but looks mildly appalled.

“A thriving industry, I’m sure,” Hoseok snorts. “So where are you planning on going?”

Taehyung can’t contain his excitement, almost bouncing in his seat. “I think—Tokyo?” he hikes it up, almost like it’s a question, but he’s thought a lot about it and is pretty certain it’s what he wants. He’s familiar with the area and language from work, and has already been eyeing places to book. “And some nearby areas, too. There’s tons to do, and it’s not that far.”

“It sounds nice,” Yoongi says slowly. “Can I just...ask you something?”

There’s something odd in his voice and face, considering Taehyung carefully. Apprehensive, Taehyung nods after a second.

Yoongi looks uncomfortable, unsure how to continue. Finally, with a glance at Hoseok then back to Taehyung he asks, “You really don’t—like him?”

The effect is almost immediate. Taehyung gives a short, nervous laugh, stomach sinking. “I do? We’re friends.”

“You know what I mean,” Yoongi says.

Taehyung glances down at his hands, finds he’s playing with his fingers nervously. The question isn't unexpected, but it’s awkward nonetheless, something in his chest feeling—off. “That’s not how the arrangement works,” he echoes from earlier, “We’re just friends. ‘Cos it’d mess up the dynamics of how it’s supposed to work, you know?” He musters himself to glance back up. “We’re friends.”

Yoongi nods slowly to himself, blinking. “Okay,” he says, “Okay. Just—I need to ask, you know. Because how you’ve been acting—”

“We’re friends,” Taehyung interrupts with a laugh, shaking his head. “I’m fine, Yoongi. It’s just—a weird topic to think about? But no, it’s nothing like that. Promise.”

Yoongi looks unconvinced. Taehyung glances to Hoseok for backup, but he’s looking away.

“We’re friends,” Taehyung insists a little more forcefully. “I’ve just been really happy to have such a close friend. I told you, we get along well, so…” So it should be an explanation for the outings, for the time on his phone, for the smiles to himself, but he can see why it’s unbelievable. “Just friends.” he repeats again.

“So you don’t like him,” Yoongi says, and tilts his head when Taehyung nods. “And he doesn’t like you?” Taehyung hesitates, then nods again. He looks serious. “Well, what if either of you start to?”

Taehyung shifts in his seat, discomfort rising hot. “We promised we’d cut the arrangement off,” he says. He hasn’t wanted to think about it, in any capacity; Jimin’s a source of happiness, his best friend.

“And would you?”

Taken aback, Taehyung thinks a moment, says, “Yes. Of course.”

“Really?” Yoongi asks. “Even though you’re that close?”

His flight response has been active for a while now, never one for interrogations like this, but Taehyung finds this line of questioning is somehow making things even worse. He hasn’t wanted to think about this at all, about an end to their arrangement in any way. Of course Jimin is likable; kind and talented, sweet to Taehyung. Many times over earns his ‘allowance’ making Taehyung satisfied both emotionally and physically, as more than a distraction, as a partner and friend.

It’s why he’s considered himself immune. Knowing what he’d lose, there’s no way Taehyung wants to jeopardize what they have in any way. He’s long since dismissed it as a possibility, but now he’s forced to confront it. And he knows it’s exactly why Yoongi’s brought it up, ever perceptive, ever concerned.

But even outside his own desire, Jimin’s face comes to mind, so miserable describing his past experiences, lost trust. Taehyung never wants to hurt him.

They’re friends.

He swallows. “I promised,” Taehyung murmurs finally. “Yeah, I would. Break it off. For him.”

Yoongi nods, the tension dissipating even though it leaves behind a bit of a heavier air. He reaches his hand back out, “Sorry. I know it’s not fun to think about, I just...wanted to make sure. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“I know,” Taehyung says, shaking it off and mustering a smile. “Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself.” Yoongi gives him a smile back. “I’m glad you’re happy, I am. Just give me the dates you need and I’ll make sure to move anything around.”

“I’ll book everything and forward it all to you tonight,” Taehyung promises, feeling lighter. He matches his smile back, shoving the earlier dilemma to the back of his mind. “Do you mind if I—?”

“Go call him,” Hoseok waves a hand. “We’re not going anywhere.”

Taehyung beams at them, almost leaping out of his seat. It’s a quick walk outside and he takes out his phone and dials from memory, biting down on his lip to keep from smiling. Jimin picks up on the second ring.


“Hey,” Taehyung greets, dropping down onto a bench. “It’s me. Are you busy? Can we talk?”

“Oh! Hey, baby. I’ve got a bit of time,” Jimin says, voice dropping away for a second like he’s switched the phone from one ear to the other. “Prepping for a session. Finishing up some ties.”

Taehyung tries not to shiver, calming himself at the visual. “Oh, I back?” he suggests, sorely hoping Jimin will say no. He wants to tell him now, while his heart’s still beating fast, but he’ll respect Jimin’s work. Yet Jimin says:

“Oh, it’s fine. This one gets off on being ignored. Worthless thing. You’re assisting me, darling.” Taehyung does shudder this time at Jimin’s tone, biting his lip. “So what’s up?”

“Ah,” Taehyung says intelligently, thoughts screeching to a halt. “That’s—ah?”

“Ah?” Jimin repeats amusedly, a lilt to his voice. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You didn’t,” Taehyung assures, swallowing. “M’just…I can’t, uh. Right now.”

Jimin’s laugh is soft. “Oh, ” he teases, “Baby’s getting worked up in public ‘n it’s not even him I’m torturing. You hear that? Cute.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung groans, swallowing. “I wanna—gotta tell you something,” he forces himself to calm down. Any other time he might love to play this game with Jimin, can already feel interest tug at his stomach at the idea of it, but he’s calling for a reason.

“Alright, alright,” Jimin acquiesces. “Sorry. Go on.”

“Well—” Taehyung takes a breath to calm himself, shoving down the images flashing through his mind, of someone tied, humiliated before Jimin—knows and loves the feeling—he refocuses remembering what it is he’s calling for. Shyly, he says, “Then, do you remember the conversation we had? About—your birthday?”

“Of course,” Jimin says. Then it sinks in, and he sounds excited. “What about it? Did you—?”

“I’ve got the time off,” he says, grinning to himself like a fool. “If, y’know. You still wanted to go. There’s seriously no pressure, Jimin.”

“Would you stop?” Jimin scolds. Taehyung can hear the affection in it, can picture his smile. “Of course I still want to go! That’s amazing.”

“Really?” Taehyung clutches the phone, beaming. “Then—wow. Okay. I’ll book everything tonight—or do you wanna call and talk about it, if there’s anything you wanna do specifically? I mean, of course some has to be a birthday surprise, but—and then the dates for the flight—”

“Baby,” Jimin interrupts, sounding patiently amused. “I don’t even know where we’re going.”

“Oh,” Taehyung realizes, slack jawed a moment before laughing at himself. “Do you want to know?”

“Hm,” Jimin considers. “Go ahead and book what you like. Surprise me. I would like the address eventually, though. I’d like to order and ship some things for us there, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course,” Taehyung says. He pauses, then, because the last part had sounded way too forcedly innocent. “Should I be concerned?”

“More like excited,” Jimin says slyly. “Listen, I’ve gotta go now. But I’m really happy. I’ll move things around as soon as I get the dates, okay? I can’t wait.”

“I can’t either,” Taehyung admits softly, buzzing. “I’ll let you go. Have—have fun,” he adds, turning a little hot to picture it. Jimin’s laugh is soft.

“Always do,” he says, “Talk to you later.”

“Mmbye.” Taehyung disconnects first, dropping the phone to his chest. He takes another minute to collect himself with a breath and then a grin before heading back inside, bounce in his step.

He finds, when he returns, his seat’s been taken. Jin’s slid in rather suavely, looking amused with his chin in hand, and for a second Taehyung almost wonders if he’s walking in on a fight, because Yoongi’s got his arms folded solidly over his chest, a stubborn glare fixed on Jin. He keeps his distance, but he’s spotted regardless, Hoseok nodding his chin to wave him closer.

Being within earshot doesn’t clarify the situation any. Jin looks across the table at Yoongi with lazy amusement, and calls without looking, “It’s good to see you again, Taehyung. I missed you even more than I missed Yoongi here.”

“Uh,” Taehyung manages, rather politely in his opinion. “Am I missing something here?”

“You really should have seen it,” Hoseok says smugly to Taehyung. “I’ve never seen a reunion so intense. ‘Deja Brew? Are you kidding me?’ I was ready to take bets.”

“Wait, reunion?” Taehyung says, glancing to Yoongi, whose scowl—more of a pout, actually, once he looks closer—deepens. “You know each other?”

“You didn’t know?” Jin looks even more delighted, if that were possible. “I used to be under Yoongi’s management.”

It clicks, then. His good looks, the familiarity of his face Taehyung had felt meeting him the first time. Taehyung gapes.

“Don’t look so surprised,” Jin says. He cups his cheeks in his hands, giving a puffy-cheeked smile. “You couldn’t tell from this face?”

“Yes, we worked together,” Yoongi says, a little stiffer. His eyes don’t move from Jin’s face. “Until Seokjin let his contract expire to pursue a relationship. And, apparently, open a cafe.”

Taehyung stills. Jin looks contemplative, lifting his head and lacing his fingers together.

“Well,” he says, “That first one ended up not working out.”

With a glance to Hoseok, Taehyung expects tension thick enough to cut. Surprisingly, though, he doesn’t look uncomfortable. The opposite, actually; in fact, none of them seem as strained as things should be.

“Well,” Jin says after a moment, pushing back from the table and standing up. “I’ll let you get back to it,” he nods to both Yoongi and Hoseok, then Taehyung. “It was nice to see you again, Taehyung. Don’t let him get too mean on you. Neither Yoongi nor Jimin, that is.”

“Right,” Taehyung says, feeling more lost than he ever has in his life. After Jin’s gone, he takes his seat back slowly. “Right,” he says again, “So. Anyone wanna fill me in on what the hell just happened?”

“We’re all getting along really well,” Hoseok says cheerfully, brushing a hand over Yoongi’s hair. Taehyung makes a valiant attempt to control his expression. “No, really.”

“He’s so dramatic,” Yoongi mutters. Taehyung’s known him long enough to tell it’s not genuine irritation, and the situation feels even more bizarre.

“So what I’m getting here is I missed a really interesting first date,” Taehyung clarifies. Yoongi refocuses on him with a bit of a warning stare, and Taehyung winces. He’s used the d-a-t-e word. “Uh, outing. Excursion.”

Hoseok pokes at a pastry, and casually remarks, “He propositioned us for a threesome.”

Taehyung chokes. What makes it worse is Yoongi’s lack of denial, just a small half-shrug to himself.

“Oh, my god,” Taehyung reacts, then: “Oh, my god,” he realizes more forcefully. “Please tell me that is not why you were already here when I called you.”

“Oh, like you’ve got anything to say,” Hoseok scoffs, eyebrow jerking up. “Speaking of, don’t you have a trip to be planning, anyway?”

“I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life,” Taehyung says primly, standing and making a show of dusting off his pants. “Enjoy your date,” he places emphasis on the word, making a beeline for the exit.

“We will!” he hears three voices behind him, and groans.







When the day for travel comes, Taehyung goes through Gimpo, hoping midday midweek will primarily be business groups and offer an uneventful journey. The only person to stare too long is the older agent who seems concerned with matching his picture since he’s dyed his hair, eyes comically squinted at his passport and glancing back and forth, but Taehyung simply holds a polite smile, in too good of a mood for it to be anything but humorous.

He texts Jimin, of course. Almost embarrassingly too much, updates on every little aspect of the journey; a picture of the meal he buys for himself, concern about the business man he thinks might be comatose at the gate.

jimin he hasnt moved in 22 minutes

is he breathing?
check his pulse

i cant just go up to a stranger and check his pulse!!

he’s not going to mind if he’s dead
grab his wallet




In much the same fashion it goes like that. Jimin texts back rapidly, his usual wry, chaotic comments texted back to Taehyung and wishing him well once he’s boarded and geared for departure. (Jimin’s suggested mugging victim does rise, then, when the calls for boarding go out.)

The flight speeds by. As does customs; he’s familiar with Narita, and to the curb and into the cab quickly. He continues to update Jimin as he goes, who’s taking a separate flight coming in tomorrow.

Finally settled into the place—so he may have gone slightly overboard, renting an apartment for the trip, but Jimin deserves nothing but the best—and showered from the day’s grime, clad in his favorite bathrobe, Taehyung tosses his laptop onto the bed and clambers on, singing to himself as he types in his password and connects. Jimin had promised they could video call when he’d arrived, and after a confirmed text from him and a quick dial tone, Jimin’s on his screen. Even 1280p can’t do him justice, but Taehyung’s still excited to see him, beaming almost the second the call connects. Jimin looks softened from his day, a bit of eyeliner still smeared and taking off a cap to mess with his hair, but he grins back at Taehyung and gives a wave when he connects in.

“Looks like you’re settled in,” Jimin notes, “How’s the place?”

Taehyung gives him a grin, tugging at the bathrobe. “It’s really nice. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“I can’t wait, either,” Jimin returns his smile, leaning forward to place his chin in hands. “Don’t worry. I’m packed and I’ve got the pass printed. Tokyo, huh?”

“Yup,” Taehyung pops the syllable, a little shy when he asks— “S’okay? You’re excited to come here?”

“Definitely!” Jimin cheers back, grin wide. “And two weeks with you? This is a dream, Tae.”

Teasingly, Taehyung returns, “That’s not sarcastic?”

“You’re kidding,” Jimin says. “I’ve been packed for weeks.”

“If you say so,” Taehyung sighs. He brightens. “Ah, so I’m picking you up tomorrow. I figured we could go out to eat after—hey, help me pick what to wear?”

Jimin gives him an indulgent smile. “Of course,” he says. “What are you thinking?”

Taehyung grins, pushing himself up. “I’ll be right back,” he promises, shuffling off the bed and to where he’s half unpacked his suitcase. It’s admittedly a mess, clothes haphazardly strewn over the wardrobe, chair and more, but finally he makes it back with no less than six tops thrown over his arms. Jimin just laughs good naturedly and leans in for judging.

It devolves somewhat into a mini show, Jimin pulling up music on his end and Taehyung holding shirts up to his torso and striking a pose. They’ve narrowed down to two tops when Jimin cuts the music as Taehyung’s mid-spin, leaning in with a frown.

“Taehyung,” he begins cautiously. “Is that a pajama shirt?”

Taehyung looks down to the guilty item. “Uh,” he says, “It’s Burberry?”

Jimin snorts. “That is not what I asked.”

Taehyung pouts at him. “It’s called fashion,” he says. “Look it up! Just for that I’m wearing it for sure.”

“Don’t let me stop you,” Jimin shakes his head. “Cutie. By the way, purely curious, is there a package for me there?”

Taehyung glances with mild distrust to the package he’d picked up at the front and dragged in. “Yes,” he confirms suspiciously. “What are you making me an accomplice to?”

“Accomplice? You’re so dramatic,” Jimin rolls his eyes. “Have some patience. You’ll see tomorrow night, if you like.”

“Is that supposed to inspire confidence?” Taehyung pokes a finger toward the screen. “Because it doesn’t.”

“You’re just excited,” Jimin teases, and Taehyung can’t help a little shiver, shrugging in acquiescence. “Don’t open it ‘til I get there, though. We’ll have plenty of time.”

Taehyung swallows. “Okay,” he manages though it’s hoarse. Because something’s occurred to him, spurred on by imagining whatever Jimin’s surprise is—and clearing his throat, he suggests innocently, “I mean...we, too.”

Jimin gives him a look that translates even across a thousand miles and hotel wifi.

“You want me to play with you?” He asks, eyebrow raised. “Before I’m even there? That’s greedy, Tae.”

He bites his lip, daring. “Maybe I am,” Taehyung taunts, leaning closer to the screen. “Would you—do you think—?”

Jimin considers him a second. He hums once, making a show of tilting his head.

“Strip for me,” he says.

It’s easy. Taehyung has to bite his cheek to keep from grinning, tugging off the robe in one motion. He sits back, shivers just so in the AC chill, laid bare and alone-but-not. Jimin runs his eyes over him, sitting up on his end.

“Pretty,” he murmurs, and Taehyung lets himself smile, then, stroked by the praise. “Look so soft. Wish I could kiss you. Pretty face, cute tummy. You always like that, don’t you?”

“Mm,” Taehyung agrees with a sigh, nodding. He reflects now he knows why, in the back of his mind, he’d booked them one of the most private places he could. “Can I—touch myself, Jimin?”

“Go ahead,” Jimin says. “Down your chest. Play like I’d play with you.”

“And you’ll watch,” Taehyung breathes out, eyes wide on the screen. He slips two fingers in his mouth, wetting them with a swirl of his tongue, and drags them down his chest, flicking over his nipples. He can’t even tell what’s more rewarding, imagining Jimin touching him or focusing on the way he’s watching Taehyung.

“I’m watching,” Jimin reassures in a murmur, leaning close. “I want you to get yourself hard. You can do that for me?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung promises with a smile. Skin all the more sensitive under his gaze, hair still drying, he takes his cock in hand, imagining the things Jimin might do to him—groans to anticipate the things Jimin will do to him in this bed. Jimin’s eyes fall appreciatively.

“That’s right. Give me a show, baby,” Jimin instructs. He narrows his eyes when Taehyung spits in his hand, inspired. “Spit on yourself. You know I like you messy.”

And oh, that gets him going. Taehyung plays with his tongue, drops his chin to let spit pool on his lips and drip to his dick, the two of them watching in tandem. He does it again, mesmerized, sloppy and all Jimin’s on camera, shudder going through him as he strokes through it and licks at his lips.

“Good boy,” Jimin says, settling back. “Fuck your hand. Let me watch.”

Taehyung’s flipped himself onto his knees in a second, arousal building fast. There’s something about it, if he’s honest with himself; in front of a camera so often, but it’s entirely different now, Jimin watching and directing him even across an ocean. No way to touch him, but present all the same, eyes burning on him. He watches Taehyung intently, and it’s all the more motivation to perform, to put on a show to the occasional murmur of keep going and you’re doing so well. His hips stutter when he’s close, hand slick of gathered precum and spit, searching out Jimin’s eyes on the screen through a haze.

“Jimin,” he mumbles, breath coming fast. “Jimin—may I—come for you?”


It almost doesn’t register. Taehyung’s hips jerk, then he’s staring at Jimin, lip quivering. Certain he’s misheard, he circles his hips once, fist a light pressure.

But coolly, Jimin says again, “Stop.”

That time it sinks in. Taehyung almost gapes, and Jimin smiles at him.

“Jimin?” he asks, a little dumbly, coming down. Jimin tilts his head innocently. “I’m… edging?”

“No,” Jimin says, kindly but firmly. Taehyung blinks dumbly. “You’re not coming tonight, darling. Without me, showing off where I can’t touch you? You really think I’d let you be so greedy?”

His teeth show in a grin. Taehyung groans aloud when it sinks in, shivering when he forces himself to pull his hand away.

“Yes?” he almost whimpers.

Jimin laughs. “Such a tease,” he taunts. “You thought wrong, darling. Have some patience.”

“Jim in,"  Taehyung whines, circling his hips thoughtlessly. And it’s filthy, but Jimin’s mocking and denial almost has him harder, all the more desperate. But Jimin, though amused, seems far from backing down.

“Slut,” Jimin just teases back.  “M’not changing my mind. Don’t complain,” he warns, stern, when Taehyung pouts at him. “You can play with yourself all you like. I think it’s cute. But this is your restriction. You’re not coming until I get to have fun with you, is that clear?”

“MmbutI’m—” Jimin just looks back at him, so goddamn smug. Taehyung squeezes his thighs together. It takes an effort not to touch. He tries one last time. “Jimin…”

“Do you need to call safety?” Jimin asks, softening. Taehyung thinks, then shakes his head. “Okay, baby. Be good for me. I’ll reward you, make you feel so good tomorrow when I get in.”

“I know,” Taehyung murmurs, smiling a little. “Always do. Best dom.”

Jimin blows him a kiss, and Taehyung pretends to catch it dramatically before shrugging his robe on over his shoulders, still flushed in the camera.

“I’ll let you get to bed, then,” Taehyung says, arms around himself. “I have a cold shower to get to.”

Jimin laughs. “I’ll see you tomorrow, then. Pajama top and all.”

“I’ll be there,” Taehyung promises.

When the call ends, though, he’s not immediately off to a cold shower as promised. Instead Taehyung lays back a shiver, tugging aside the robe again. It’s all too easy to close his eyes, replay Jimin’s voice in his head, that he thinks it’s cute for Taehyung to play with himself—coaxing himself back to full hardness, almost to an edge, a little too into the denial aspect. How even apart, Jimin’s given him something to follow, another private thing between the two of them he can please Jimin with. He falls asleep with that knowledge, curling back under the blankets, a faint smile on his face.







It’s easy to wake, Taehyung rising even before his alarm and readying himself quickly. He laughs to himself as he tugs on the pajama top over black trousers and slides. He hesitates, though, before heading out.

Crossing to his suitcase, Taehyung digs through a deeper pocket before pulling it out almost reverently. They’ve only played with it once or twice, but the collar in Taehyung’s hands has its own weight, sleek leather and a comforting thickness. And maybe it’s bordering on freaky, to say the least, but something like excitement always bubbles in Taehyung’s stomach to fasten it around his neck. He does so now, closing his eyes. The fit’s comforting, even in a nonsexual situation—like a reminder he’s taken care of, a reminder of Jimin. That Taehyung has someone who helps him feel owned when it’s what he craves, to break him down and build him back up in the same breath.

He keeps it on, fastening a scarf around his neck to cover it.

It’s Taehyung’s turn to text Jimin as he makes his way through his own trip, brimming with excitement and almost bouncing in his seat in the cab he’d called. Once onsite he’s got to tug down his hat and up his mask just in case, but sends Jimin a selfie angled from below, bundled but sporting an obvious grin.

They end up spotting each other just about the same time. Taehyung’s been scanning the crowd, eyes flitting determinedly between the status display and gate, but there’s still nothing to prepare him for when, almost like fate, their eyes lock at the same time. Taehyung sees Jimin brighten, grinning whole at him and battling through the crowd to where Taehyung’s sat-then-standing to give him a hug.

“You made it,” Taehyung says, struggling to control his grin. Jimin gives no such quarter, giving him a dazzling smile.

“Here I am,” he announces, spreading his arms out. He looks gloriously domestic, hair a little mussed and round spectacles balancing on his nose. “Also, a first class ticket? Really? It was barely two hours!”

“You deserve the best, birthday boy,” Taehyung says primly, reaching for Jimin’s suitcase handle despite his protest. Jimin shakes his head at him amusedly. “Lunch sound good? We can do whatever you like, but I’ve been scouting out reviews…”

“Lunch sounds great,” Jimin assures him, unsuccessfully trying to tug back his suitcase. He surrenders with a sigh. “I didn’t even eat my fancy first-class offerings. I waited just for you.”

“There’s always your return flight for that,” Taehyung shoots back innocently, and Jimin groans good naturedly. Taehyung doesn’t care, though; he’d meant it when he’d said Jimin deserved it, even for a shorter flight.

Full of excitement, the cab drive goes by quickly as Jimin describes aspects of the flight, groaning that there’d been not one—not two—but three babies on board that made their presence known with iron lungs. Pulling up to the restaurant Taehyung’s designated en route, he and Jimin head inside and to the private table he’d reserved.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” Taehyung sighs for what must be the hundredth time. “Happy early birthday. And no, I’m not going to stop saying it.”

“It’s not for another two weeks,” Jimin laughs, resting his chin in hand and looking affectionately. His smile turns devious. “You thought of a gift yet?”

Taehyung raises his chin dramatically. “Excuse me? I’m the gift, of course.”

“Obviously,” Jimin giggles into his palm. “I’m kidding. You don’t need to get me anything. This is already so much more than enough, Taehyung. Really, I…” he bites his lip, sighing happily. “Is it lame to say I started packing the day you told me? This is already the best gift anyone could have ever gotten me.”

Taehyung feels his heart swell at Jimin’s words, struggling to keep outright sappiness out of his voice and face as he teases fondly, “Yeah, I’m pretty great.”

Jimin laughs, kicking gently at him under the table, ankles knocking. “I missed you,” he says, pouting at him. “It’s been a few weeks, hasn’t it?”

Taehyung flicks his eyes upward, mentally calculating. “I think so? Not since the day at your studio… wow. That should be illegal.”

“Definitely,” Jimin agrees. “We’ve been so busy. My favorite model, out stealing the public’s hearts.”

“My favorite sugar baby, keeping the city on its knees.” Taehyung teases back. “More like you missed playing with me.”

It’s almost a taunt, and Jimin raises an eyebrow for it. He leans in across the table.

“Sure that’s not the other way around?” His eyes are knowing, and Taehyung hitches a breath. “You’re the one who couldn’t wait a day, doll.”

He’s talking about the previous night; of course he is. Taehyung shudders, and with newfound if breathy confidence with Jimin’s attention all on him, he tugs down his scarf.

“You have no idea,” he murmurs.

Taehyung sees Jimin’s eyes fall, tracks the exact moment he sees the collar, eyes widening.

“Oh,” he breathes with a grin. “Oh, that is lovely. Just couldn’t wait for tonight, could you?”

“No,” Taehyung admits, feeling starry with the way Jimin looks at him. Appreciatively, almost hungry, but the fire always so controlled. Taehyung’s just gotten good at reading it. “Wanted to feel it. Think about it. Know I’m yours.”

Jimin’s gaze never wavers. Taehyung stiffens, though, when his shoe knocks again into Taehyung’s ankle. He just meets Taehyung’s gaze steadily as Jimin slides his foot up his leg and taps against his thigh before, eyes lidded, he presses the sole of his shoe squarely down onto Taehyung’s crotch. Taehyung stiffens, nails digging into the seat beside him.

“That’s cute,” Jimin says idly, as passive as any conversation could be. He circles his foot slowly, grinding down onto the seat of Taehyung’s pants under the table, floor length cloth hiding all. Taehyung’s certain if anyone were to come back, the scene would be nondescript, the two of them in low conversation disregarding Taehyung’s reddened face. “Really got you worked up last night, didn’t I? Thought it’d disappoint you, but you just got hotter, didn’t you?” Taehyung stifles a gasp, teeth finding his lip as Jimin steps down more firmly, voice low. “Look at you. Falling apart, leashed for me ‘n no one knows. Bet you’d take anything I’d give you, wouldn’t you? Even getting your big dick stepped on.”

“Please,” Taehyung finally manages, a hiss as he half-rocks his hips up. Just like that the pressure’s gone, Jimin pulling back and settling in his seat, taking an unbothered sip of his tea. His eyes sparkle with amusement looking at Taehyung over his straw.

“Jimin,” Taehyung groans.

“Be patient,” is all Jimin says in return, a scold with a smile. “I’ll reward you.”

Taehyung asks for the bill almost immediately when the waiter next comes to their room. He’s still denied, though, torturously so, when Jimin reminds him innocently that they’d planned to rent a car, hadn’t they? He takes his time at the agency, too; going over multiple models, chatting leisurely with their agent, test driving several models. By the time he’s selected a model, Taehyung thinks he might be about to pass out thinking of everything they could be doing right now, hastily handing over his credit card and signing in a daze.

“That was fun, wasn’t it?” Jimin asks when they’ve buckled in. Taehyung’s head falls back against the seat with a whine in response, and Jimin laughs, offering a wave to the agent before pulling out of the lot. He starts counting down the minutes to the condo, and the torment is only made worse when Jimin reaches for him.

“Which way here?” he asks calmly, as his fingers curl behind Taehyung’s neck, find the collar. Two fingers slide underneath, and he tugs lightly. Taehyung doesn’t choke, not even close, but his breath catches as if he might.

“Jimin, I—”

“I need an answer,” Jimin says. It’s mild, but the hand on Taehyung’s neck is anything but, a tempting presence that has Taehyung’s head spinning. Taehyung struggles to clear his head as best he can, focusing enough to weakly say, “Left.”

Just like that, his hand vanishes. “Thank you,” Jimin says kindly. Taehyung offers a soft acknowledgment in response. He knows the game; Jimin loves to drop him, and Taehyung always goes so easily for him, too, loves when he can escape the stress of his day-to-day and let Jimin control him, look to Jimin for what he needs.

The next time Jimin needs direction, he squeezes Taehyung’s thigh.

The game isn’t intense by any means. The only time Jimin’s got to pull him back is when his hand creeps closer to the seat of Taehyung’s pants, and he circles his hips, only jerks back when Jimin pinches at his thigh.

“Not yet,” he says. “Give me the answer.”

“Left,” Taehyung strains out. “S’the first on the right—Jimin, I need you.”

“Be patient,” Jimin says even as he parks. Taehyung’s out the door in a second, and Jimin laughs at him, but he lets Taehyung open the door for him and grab his hand, pulling him across the driveway and up the stairs and into the porch’s alcove. Jimin holds him from behind as Taehyung fumbles with the keys, hands shaking all the more for Jimin’s grip on his hips and breath on his neck, finally slipping into the lock and getting open the door.

They’re kissing by the time the door closes behind him, almost clumsily, hot and wet. Jimin’s got him pressed back against the wall before Taehyung can blink, and like he’s got a grudge against it Jimin pulls the scarf free, making a low sound of appreciation to lean in and bite his throat. Taehyung gasps, eyes fluttering, as Jimin tugs on his collar, scarf falling to the floor between them.

“Jimin,” he breathes, Jimin’s hair ruffling with his breath. The only acknowledgment is a hum as Jimin keeps his mouth at work. “That’s Prada.”

Jimin almost giggles, dragging his tongue up to run it across the leather. Eloquently, he says, “I don’t care.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung barely manages before Jimin’s back at him, knee sliding between Taehyung’s thighs to grind up against him. “You’re kind of—a brat when you’re deprived, you know that?”

“What, you gonna punish me?” Jimin pulls back to bat his eyes at Taehyung, fingers seizing and working apart the buttons of Taehyung’s shirt. “Ridiculous—you’ve got no business looking that good in pajamas—Fuckin’ missed you, baby. Can’t blame me for that.”

It brings a laugh out of Taehyung, soft and giddy. His hands fumble against Jimin’s, working his shirt unbuttoned with him. He’s barely shrugging it off his shoulders that Jimin’s dropped his hands to Taehyung’s hips, and he’s guided back against the wall.

“What’d you miss?” Taehyung teases, lips aching for Jimin back. Jimin inhales sharp, thumbs digging into Taehyung’s hipbones.

“Missed you,” he murmurs, leaning close. Taehyung shivers, body rising eagerly against him to hear. Jimin presses him back, hand sliding up his bared chest. “Missed playing with you. Missed having you. Missed you being mine,” and Jimin slips two fingers back under the collar, tugs nicely. “Trained you just for me, always so eager and good. I love when bigger men get on their knees for me.”

Taehyung can’t hide his exhale at that, and Jimin grins. “Does baby have a size kink?” he teases up at him, cooing when Taehyung colors, looking away. “Big subby boy, like when I pin you, make you feel small?” His knee spikes back up, and Taehyung manages his name once more through clenched teeth. “Like feeling me on you, dropping you so sweet. S’that what gets your big dick wet?”

“God— Jimin—” His mouth is as filthy as always, and Taehyung can’t help himself, hands coming up to thumb against Jimin’s cheeks. Jimin’s happy to comply, falling forward to swallow his exhalation in another kiss.

“Unless, maybe—” Jimin manages between breaths, grin twisting mischievous. He flips them, then, tugging Taehyung away and then back as Jimin lands himself against the wall and pulls Taehyung close. Taehyung blinks down at him, certain he’s starry eyed, holding himself up with hands placed on either side of Jimin’s head. Slowly Jimin raises his arms, sliding his hands up the wall and over his head, keeping wrists held high and together.

“Maybe this is what you’d like,” he teases, tongue swiping out across his lip. “Pin me down, make me cry for you? Think you could do that? I’d let you,” Jimin murmurs, craning up to press the softest of kisses to Taehyung’s cheek. “I’ll play however you like me, sir.”

He’s sin itself, fully dressed and just barely out of breath. In contrast Taehyung’s a mess to the nines, feeling reverent as he leans down, whispers a “May I?” before kissing down Jimin’s jaw and neck. Jimin’s laugh thrums against his lips, and he drops his arms to loop them around Taehyung’s shoulders.

“Asking for permission?” he rubs at the back of Taehyung’s neck with a sigh. “Cute.”

“I’ve missed you, too,” Taehyung noses into his shoulder, fire cooling somewhat with Jimin’s fingers tugging at his hair. “Don’t tease anymore. ‘Least not ‘til we start. Need you to take me apart.”

“I can do that,” Jimin says, lips brushing against Taehyung’s temple. “I bought something special for you tonight. You’ve been so good waiting for me.”

“Your package?” Taehyung remembers, guessing aloud. Jimin looks wicked, stepping back and tugging at his hand. Still suspicious but with excitement restirring, Taehyung leads Jimin down the entryway to where he’s dropped the box in the center without ceremony. Jimin looks self-satisfied, squeezing Taehyung’s hand.

“Gonna shower,” he decides aloud, toeing at the box. “Still feel like airline filters. You joining me, baby?”

Taehyung’s already tugging him to the bathroom, his answer a smile.

It’s a wonder they get anything done, really. They’re kissing more often than they are cleaning up, but it’s still their same routine, Taehyung sighing as Jimin rubs conditioner into his scalp, Jimin singing as Taehyung massages his shoulders. Towards the end Jimin’s fallen to his knees with Taehyung pressed up against the wall, his leg hiked up over Jimin’s shoulder as Jimin kisses Taehyung’s stomach and fingers him gently.

“Please,” Taehyung begs, voice broken and lost against the sound of water. Jimin just laughs at him, dripping and hair twisted in Taehyung’s hand. “Please, enough.”

“Enough?” Jimin muses. “Usually you’re asking for more.” he smiles to himself, a private amusement. “And I just adore you asking for more.”

“Then give it to me,” Taehyung says, all composure melting under Jimin’s mouth. “Everything of you. Make me beg, Jimin.”

There’s little point getting dressed. Jimin hauls the package to the bedroom and then hacks at it with scissors in a way that might freak Taehyung out if his arms didn’t look so damn good doing it. When Jimin gets it open, he grins in with delight.

“You bring the rest of your collar?” he asks suddenly, eyes shifting to Taehyung where he’s sat himself on the bed.

“You mean the—” Taehyung’s breath catches.

They’ve had a few sessions with Taehyung in his collar. That’s why it’s natural, now, almost a comfort. But the full set that had left Taehyung so dizzy in Jimin’s lap months ago—they haven’t utilized it yet. That’s not to say it hasn’t crossed his mind, though, the most empirical of evidence being how the chains are tucked neatly in his suitcase under where he’d packed the leather band.

“Yeah,” Jimin supplies, tipping his chin. Taehyung nods, relaying where in his suitcase they’re sealed away. “Can I—?”

“Please,” Taehyung confirms before he can even finish the question, heart pounding. “Please, yes. You said you’d reward me. So make me a ruin.”

Jimin needs no further encouragement, drawing back and dropping beside Taehyung’s suitcase to dig through before locating and raising the chain set almost reverently. When he crosses back he kisses Taehyung first, hand splayed to his chest to push him on his back. He settles into Taehyung’s hips like he’s been there a hundred times—Taehyung thinks they’re nearing that count—grabbing at where he’d tossed the collar into the bed earlier. Taehyung closes his eyes when Jimin fastens it back around his neck, hand stroking down Taehyung’s cheek.

“Look at me,” he says, authority back in his voice, and Taehyung blinks up at him as Jimin ducks his head to flick a tongue across his nipple, finger rolling over the other. His breath hitches and Jimin sucks the skin into his mouth, tongue working expertly with just enough a hint of teeth to make Taehyung shiver. Then he’s switched, mouth to seal the other and nail digging into the first until Taehyung’s whining. He looks satisfied when he leans back up, bringing clamp in hand but catching Taehyung’s eyes as he soothes the nail mark with a thumb— “This is okay?”

Taehyung can’t rasp it quickly enough. “It’s fine,” he promises, and Jimin presses a kiss to his cheek before tugging at one nipple, easing his hold slowly until it’s fully clamped, messing once with the tightened screw. Jimin looks breathless himself, and he runs another nail along the poking flesh, smile wicked when Taehyung can’t help but jerk, all the more sensitive now. He repeats the process for the other, and kisses Taehyung again through his whimpers when he pulls the connecting chain up, clicking it onto his collar. There’s just the slightest tug, not too bad, yet, but Taehyung knows, can feel that a jerk of his head back would be unwise.

“You’re fine?” Jimin scans his face, reaching to ruffle his hair when Taehyung confirms. “How do you want me tonight, dollface? Am I spoiling my baby, or am I being mean?”

“This is spoiling?” Taehyung teases, lightheaded. It’s hard to take his eyes off the clamps, numb for now but just enough pressure that they can’t be forgotten.

“It is when you like pain, darling,” Jimin teases right back. He seems fond of pressing in his nails around Taehyung’s chest, and grins when he flicks at the clamp, making Taehyung jolt. “My cute little pain slut. Have you already forgotten how wet you get when I hit you?”

Without warning, Jimin grabs at the chain of the clamps, yanking one off. Taehyung jerks, voice twisting into a yelp, and—he can’t deny it gets him going, moan coming when Jimin leans down again to kiss the skin before reattaching the clamp.

“Tough love tonight, then?” Jimin guesses casually.

“If I deserve it,” Taehyung replies breathlessly.

Jimin flicks at a clamp again. “You think you haven’t?” he shakes his head when Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “Teasing me on camera like that. You didn’t come, did you?”

“I wanted to—ah, put on a show for you,” Taehyung tries in a whine. “I didn’t. I—played with myself. More. After. But I didn’t let myself come. Thought just about you, about you rewarding me.”

Jimin makes a noise of pleasure. “Played with yourself more, is that right?” he says, looking pleased. “Fuck, that makes me so happy. D’you know I got off after? Thought about you, how I was coming but... you didn’t get to.” he nearly croons. “My baby. Okay. Let’s make you a mess. On the floor, on your knees.”

Taehyung scrambles up, aided by Jimin tugging at the chain. Jimin runs a hand over his hair when Taehyung drops to his knees, smiling down at him with a gleam in his eyes.

“So,” Jimin says, raising the second chain. Taehyung’s heart spikes to see the cuffs dangling from his hand. “How do you feel about these?”

Slowly, in response, Taehyung raises his hands up. Bent at the elbows, fingers curling, a humiliating, begging pose. Jimin works quickly, attaching the chain to its spot on the collar before fastening in his wrists. He tests them idly when Jimin’s done, hands hanging with enjoyment that aches through him to remember ordering the collar set so long ago. His mouth falls open easily when Jimin presses his thumb to his lips, slipping in and letting Taehyung hollow his cheek around the digit, blinking up attentively. Jimin smiles.

“How’s everything feel?” he asks kindly, a second hand coming up to brush at Taehyung’s cheek. He hums when Taehyung mumbles a good around his finger, and smears spit across his cheek when he pulls it out. “Good boy. I’m glad. Gonna take you apart, darling. You ready?”

“Please,” Taehyung replies, chains clinking when he nods without thinking, wincing at the tug of the clamps he’s forgotten. “Ah—please. Jimin.”

“I’ve got you,” Jimin soothes. He claps his hands once, wicked look returning. “Now. Let’s see what I’ve got for you, yeah?”

The first thing he pulls from the package takes a second to recognize. It’s only when he holds the metal up does Taehyung realize the open-mouthed gag he’s looking at, a spider-style to pull and keep his mouth apart that gives his jaw a pleasant ache just to look at. Already his mouth drops open in anticipation and he looks up pleadingly at Jimin.

“This one’s a little different from your ball gag,” Jimin says softly as he works it into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung makes a noise to let Jimin know he’s listening. “It’s gonna keep your mouth open for me. If you don’t like it, or anything else tonight, I want you to snap your fingers for me, okay?”

He pauses after fastening it behind Taehyung’s head, looking into his eyes. Obediently, Taehyung snaps his fingers once, nodding. Jimin smiles at him, leaning down and in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth stretched wide. Taehyung keens low, unable to return it back, tongue fluttering uselessly. Jimin just coos, sliding two fingers in Taehyung’s mouth and pressing down on his tongue.

“Don’t worry,” he says, another soft kiss to Taehyung’s lip. “We’ll get your mouth busy. But I wanna see you drool first. Right on yourself, pretty thing.”

A thrill of humiliation going through him, Taehyung nods. It won’t be long, spit already pooling against his bottom lip and cock throbbing between his legs. He chances a glance down, and so easy a string of drool slips past his lip, fast to drip against his stomach. He flushes when Jimin looks over him in appreciation.

“Lovely,” he praises. “You’re gonna get so messy, baby slut. Just how I like you on my dick.”

Taehyung tries to respond out of habit, face flushing when his lips just wobble uselessly. Jimin pats his cheek with a laugh and turns back to the bed. What he digs out of the box next he slips behind his back too quickly for Taehyung to see, spinning around to face Taehyung with hands behind his back and a grin.

“Pick a hand,” he says. “Left or right. That’s what I’ll put on you first.”

Taehyung tries to recall the streak he’d seen, make any sense of his memory. Nothing comes to mind, so with nervous anticipation, he nods with a guess to Jimin’s left hand.

“Hm,” Jimin tilts his head, lifting both hands in front of him. In his right is a strip of cloth Taehyung recognizes as a blindfold, but he doesn’t have time to process it before Jimin holds up his left hand, dangling what looks like a manual. Before Taehyung can react, Jimin tosses the blindfold back onto the bed. “I’d almost hoped you’d be blindfolded first, but I guess it’ll be fun to show you everything I picked out. This is an instruction manual you picked, Tae.”

What Jimin reaches for in the package next finally clues Taehyung in to its odd shape and size. Jimin had gone on quite the shopping spree, that’s apparent now, but the length of the box makes sense when he tugs out a metal bar of a decent length. Cuffs hang from the ends. Taehyung’s eyes widen to realize.

“Fortunately,” Jimin continues casually, “We don’t need that. I know what I’m doing. And spreading you out is all I’ve been able to think of doing all day. Well, that, and making you cry.”

It’s the first real moan Taehyung’s offered him. Entirely untouched, too, and Jimin laughs at him as he checks the length and cuffs.

“Sorry, what was that?” he teases. “You’re so eager. I can’t understand you.”

Taehyung tries to manage what he thinks could pass for a pout even with his mouth stretched open. He’s stopped caring how much he’s started to drool, letting it smear his chin and drip down his chest. Jimin catches it, and pouts back at him before laughing again.

“Okay, sweetheart,” he says, stepping behind Taehyung. “Let’s get your legs apart.”

Jimin decides to hold him by the collar. It’s wonderfully humiliating, draws noise from him as the clamps are tugged, because Jimin makes sure Taehyung’s held steadily upright by keeping a grip on the back of his collar as Taehyung shuffles his knees apart until Jimin is satisfied to the length of the bar. He cuffs Taehyung’s ankles in one by one, and tightens his grip on Taehyung’s collar when he presses a nail down onto the sole of one foot, laughing when Taehyung cries out in shock and squirms, just a little ticklish.

“Good boy,” Jimin sings again. Taehyung can only swallow spit, sound low in his throat, knees just beginning to sting. Even in the simplest of poses, it’s painfully obvious, keeping his legs apart to take anything he’s given. Jimin smacks his ass, praising him again as he jerks. He seems to lose himself just a little then, spanking Taehyung again, again, again. “So fucking pretty. Gonna make you feel so good. In fact—”

Jimin stands, crossing back to the bed. Taehyung stills when he sees Jimin pick up his phone and swipe open his camera.

“Would you still like pictures?” he asks kindly, brushing a strand of hair out of Taehyung’s face and tucking it behind his ear. Taehyung nods, heart racing again to think of a shot of him posted by Jimin, something people could look at and lust after even though he and Jimin are the only ones who know. “Okay. We can go through them later, together. Hold still for me.”

Hearing the click of the shutter gets straight to him. The first is presumably of the spreader bar, and then Jimin’s hand is gentle lifting his hair, Taehyung shivering to hear another snap taken of his collar.

His collar. It’s another private delight, jolt going through him and eliciting a soft noise. Jimin brushes his hair back into place soothingly.

“Pretty Taehyung,” he murmurs, another tug at the collar, then makes toward his suitcase. “You know, since we haven’t gotten to play in a while, I figured we could indulge in a little throwback.” Jimin fishes something out, then turns back with a sly smile. “You remember our first session, right?”

Please is what Taehyung tries to manage around the gag when he sees the crop. It’s more of a pathetic spluttering, but Jimin seems to understand, grin spreading. “I thought you might be excited. S’been a while since I hurt you good, hasn’t it? So let’s try it in this position. You’re already begging for it, after all,” he teases, tapping the crop on each of Taehyung’s raised and locked hands, then under his chin. “Hold that pose for me, will you?”

The rules Jimin explains to him are simple. Taehyung whines out of fear when Jimin steps close to him, trailing the crop down his back, but Jimin just soothes him. Seeing how hard Jimin is, too, helps, a focus point and a reward knowing he’s worked up despite his self control. Jimin doesn’t want Taehyung to count, he explains as he brings the crop down on his thighs, stomach, against the clamps until Taehyung’s squealing—says he misses Taehyung’s mouth on his dick, but every time he gags will add an edge before Taehyung can come.

“Sounds good, hm?” Jimin sighs as he plays his fingers in Taehyung’s mouth, pretends he’s inspecting him before wiping spit all across his cheek. When Taehyung sniffles and nods, he adds teasingly, “Open up.”

Jimin tugs Taehyung by his collar when he brings him down, cock sliding on his tongue. He’s drooling more, a mess, useless, a mouth to fuck, but Jimin only thrusts shallowly before stilling. Taehyung starts when he brings the crop down swiftly, once on each cheek, and sinks lower for it, too fast, coughing and drawing back.

“Oh?” Jimin teases. “You choking already?”

Taehyung makes a plea deep in his throat, and the fingers of Jimin’s free hand twist in his hair.

“All right,” he says fondly. “First time’s free. Better be more careful, though. I’m serious about edging you every time you mess up.” Jimin lets out a lovely sigh when Taehyung flicks his tongue up in apology. “Oh. Good boy. That’s right, darling, warm it up—mm, work hard, okay? Don’t wanna fuck your face just yet. Do some work.”

So Taehyung does his best. Works Jimin like a champ, in his opinion, for what he’s up against; his mouth is stretched wide, unable to create any sort of seal, but to make up for it he bobs his head dutifully, circling his tongue, the only tool he has. It’s filthy wet, drool just pooling in his mouth, some slipping out, string connecting cock to tongue when he pulls back. He must look shameful, no more than a toy with bubbling spit and a soring backside, but Jimin praises him even as he hits him, and it’s all Taehyung needs.

“Good baby,” Jimin exhales, on a certain twist of Taehyung’s tongue. Lays off the crop for a minute, closing his eyes and tipping back his head—but then he clicks his tongue later, delivers a sharp smack to Taehyung’s backside with the crop and slides it down his skin. Taehyung trembles when Jimin taps the crop lightly against his ass, then lower, leather resting against his balls as a warning. “Don’t get lazy,” he instructs, sliding crop back up when Taehyung works with renewed vigor.

Even so, he hits him once or twice more, moan slipping out of his mouth. “Oh?” Jimin breathes. “Look at you, working so hard for it now. That does—” he accentuates each word with another tap, eyes enamored as Taehyung looks up at him helplessly. “Make you—do it—better, huh? When you’re a little scared?”

Taehyung hums in his throat in response, eyes wide up at Jimin. “Pretty,” is Jimin’s absent response, “All mine, gonna make you cry— fuck. Stop,” Jimin breathes out, stepping back. Taehyung cries at the loss, tongue still flicking for another moment, ass and nipples and jaw the most pleasant ache, mind fuzz. “Oh, baby. Pretty toy. Gotta stop, I wanna come in you.”

That catches Taehyung’s attention. He swallows back spit as best he can, wet chin drying cool. Jimin takes a breath to steady himself, and Taehyung feels pride for how close he’d gotten him, even odds stacked against him. Jimin leans down, breath heavy in Taehyung’s mouth as he licks back in around his lips. He reaches behind Taehyung’s head then, and Taehyung stills as Jimin fusses with the fasten of the gag, getting it free and so-carefully slipping it out of Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung lets his mouth fall shut almost immediately, working his jaw and licking at his lips. Jimin gives him a moment to test it, then takes hold of his chin between two fingers, kissing him. He’s one of the best kissers Taehyung’s ever known, and proves it every time, goes deep and controlled easily even when Taehyung’s a mess.

“Hi, baby,” is what he whispers against Taehyung’s lips when he pulls half-back, smiling when Taehyung tries to chase the kiss. “I’m gonna get you on the bed now. I’ll carry you, just gonna move you. I’ll help you, I’ve got you, okay?”

“Okay,” Taehyung mumbles, blissed. Jimin gives a final peck to his nose, and it’s a little hard to follow but Jimin helps him as he promised, gentle hand guiding him half-forward and onto his side around the spreader bar’s restriction. He scoops him up, then, arms under Taehyung’s knees and back, and sets him back on the bed, laughing when breathlessly, Taehyung says, “That was hot.”

“Yeah?” Jimin teases, ghosting a hand over Taehyung’s thigh as he settles in beside him. “You always get so hot when I handle you. Baby likes muscles, huh?”

“So much,” Taehyung sighs, happy and dumb. “So strong. Handle me so good. I love it.”

“I know you do, pretty thing,” Jimin says, squeezing Taehyung’s thigh. “Gonna do it some more, alright? Wanna try something for you.”

Reaching down for the bar, Jimin gets a solid grip. Taehyung’s breath catches when Jimin lifts it, taking Taehyung’s legs with him. Once the bar’s raised up and Taehyung’s legs are at a ninety degree angle from his body he starts pressing down, pushing Taehyung’s knees closer to his chest. He’s not the most flexible, certainly not as much as Jimin, but Jimin’s careful, goes slowly. Taehyung makes a small noise when he’s past his limit, hamstring protesting, and Jimin pulls back an inch, stopping there with a pleasant stretch. With an exchanged nod Jimin hooks the bar to the top of the headboard, keeping Taehyung centered on the bed and perfectly pinned.

“Look at that,” Jimin whispers, eyes alight. He smooths a hand down the back of Taehyung’s thigh. Taehyung flushes, can feel himself spread apart and up for Jimin, trapped with his hands up beside his neck and all owned—humiliated but held so well together by Jimin. “I can almost bend you in half. Nice and open for me, hm? Gonna look so sloppy fucked.”

“Jimin,” Taehyung manages. He can barely wiggle his hips, only upward, kept open for him. With a struggle he lifts his head to look at himself—he’s even harder than he’d thought, still untouched and desperate for it. Jimin just gives him a smile as Taehyung pants, head flopping back, whining low at the tug from the clamps.

“You want me to touch you?” Jimin guesses with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, darling. You think you’ve earned that?”

“Please,” Taehyung begs. “Jimin, I—it hurts.”

“Good,” Jimin replies casually, but he relents slightly, pressing a single finger on and down the head of Taehyung’s cock, rubbing back and forth in the slit before circling his fist. “God, you’re so fucking big, Tae. Look at you, can’t even fit in my hand properly.”

“Jimin, please,” Taehyung almost cries. “I’m good, I’m—baby’s good. Yours, yours, touch me.”

“Stupid big,” Jimin just says, shaking his head. “S’almost a shame. You’d look so pretty locked up for me, crying to touch, but I don’t think any cages would be big enough for you.” he feigns a pout at Taehyung, who’s almost panting, now, as Jimin traces a nail up a vein. “Well, I’ll just have to find something else for you, won’t I?”

It’s not at all a warning for what comes next. Jimin spits on Taehyung’s dick before lining up with his mouth, giving him a wink of all things before those lips are wrapping around and slipping down, down, down, gag reflex nonexistent. Taehyung half-seizes to feel Jimin go so deep, tight, hot, wet, and has to struggle not to jerk up when Jimin swallows down with a click. He slides back up easily and with a sweet pop before Taehyung’s spinning mind can even properly take it in.

“Can’t even get you all the way down,” Jimin laughs at him, hand curled around the base and jerking shamelessly. “How’s that feel, huh? Baby likes hearing how big his dick his? That get you off, pretty thing?”

“Ji-Jimin—” Taehyung rocks his hips with an expletive as Jimin kisses down to his circling fist, licking a stripe back up the underside to let it drool against his lips. He works himself back down with pornographic expertise, swirl of his tongue playing in cadence to the rhythm of his hand. Again he pulls off too fast, too soon, this time with a taunt.

“Got you pinned right here for me to play with,” Jimin says, a faint rasp in his voice now. “Think you could come on my face if I gave you enough time?”

“Fuck—” Taehyung babbles, frantic. Jimin spanks him again, hand and its back a heavy smack against his thighs and ass, not an inch of skin earning a reprieve as Jimin’s lips puffed pink wrap back around where they look best. “Jimin, please, god, I’m—Jimin—”

The surge in him hits a hard edge as Jimin sits up abruptly, all stimulation stopped. Taehyung almost yells, legs kicking up uselessly and his tugged hands yanking on the clamps, bringing a fresh wave of pain to his nipples. Jimin just watches as he rides it, almost crying, until it’s gone, a heat coiled once more.

“Not fast enough, I guess,” Jimin says as Taehyung blinks at him through wet eyes. He reaches to slide his thumb into Taehyung’s mouth, Taehyung laving his tongue desperately, sniffling and pleading with his eyes. “Aw, baby, don’t cry. I just couldn’t resist edging you once.”

“Mm’wanna come,” Taehyung slurs around Jimin’s thumb, body throbbing. The denial’s got him aching, and when Jimin slips free his thumb to press it into Taehyung’s slit, he sees precum leak, weak and wet. “Jimin, please, I‘ve been so good.”

“You have,” Jimin agrees kindly. “That’s why I’m gonna make you come even better, okay? Fuck my babydoll just like he likes best.” Taehyung’s tongue lolls a little, and Jimin smiles, pinching his thigh. “Be patient just a little more.”

It happens while Jimin’s searching for the lube, Taehyung licking his lips, staring glassy eyed at the ceiling when he realizes: a while ago the clamps had gone numb, but they’re starting to ache, now, sharp pain as blood demands to flow. Spiking beyond his threshold of pleasant discomfort, steadily growing more—Taehyung bites down on his lip to realize it, confused by the dulled panic in the back of his head, but once he notices it it’s impossible to ignore, killing his enjoyment. He almost doesn’t notice when Jimin returns, settling back onto the bed with bottle in hand.

“Jimin?” Taehyung whispers. Jimin hums in response, popping the cap. "Can you—the clamps?"

"What about them, darling?" Jimin asks amusedly. "Use your words."

"Nn, I want—" Taehyung squirms. The feeling is solidly new, shame but with a wicked, unpleasant edge. The heat of it isn't like their games, an uncertainty that breaks the cloud in his head. "Them off."

"Oh, but they look so pretty on you," Jimin tilts his head, but double takes at Taehyung's whine. It’s a new experience for him, and he feels almost embarrassed, fighting back a feeling like guilt. Jimin leans in, instantly attentive. "Tae?"

"I don't—" Taehyung swallows, unsure. But the concern on his face eases Taehyung’s mind even though he still feels a little uncertain, a lot bad, as he tries “Y-Yellow?”

“I’m here,” Jimin says immediately. “Hey. I’m here. What do you need?”

He looks focused on Taehyung, worried, persona dropped in a second. Taehyung closes his eyes, face burning, says— “The—clamps. I’m sorry, just—they hurt. Jimin. I want—is it okay if—”

“You want them off.” Jimin says. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut tighter, nodding. “Hey. Look at me. You’re okay,” Jimin assures, reaching a hand in to cup his face. “You’re fine. Don’t feel bad. We’ll talk more, but I’m gonna take them off, okay? It’s gonna hurt,” he warns, taking one of Taehyung’s hands in his and squeezing. “But I’ve got you. Relax for me.”

Taehyung obeys, closing his eyes again. Jimin’s right, because his shuddered breath turns into a whimper when Jimin opens both clasps at once. He’s instantly soothing, though, running his hands to smooth over the skin and leaning in to press gentle kisses, flicking his tongue across pinched skin.

“Better?” Jimin asks, and Taehyung blinks open his eyes, nodding. The shame hits a little harder, even with Jimin’s eyes so kind. That he’s ruined the moment. Jimin seems to sense it, leaning in to kiss his cheek. “Hey. It’s okay. You’re okay. Do you want out of anything else?”

He gestures to the handcuffs, to the bar that’s got him hitched up. Taehyung thinks carefully, and shakes his head.

“No, I... I like everything,” he says, mumbling. “I liked those too. Just…”

“Too long,” Jimin says softly. “I should have paid more attention for your first time wearing them. I’m sorry.”

“Please don’t feel bad,” Taehyung says, swallowing. Jimin shakes his head, brushing aside his hair, tending to him fondly.

“You don’t, either,” he says, stern but soft. “Listen to me. You haven’t disappointed me. You’re good. So good, baby. Doing so well for me. You did just the right thing, talking to me. You know this is for you, that I want you to enjoy yourself. So anything that’s not okay, you tell me, alright?”

“I know,” Taehyung murmurs, and his heart picks up just a bit, mind settling back safely as Jimin continues to soothe him. “Thank you. Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” Jimin says, kissing his nose. “You’re really okay? Anything, Tae. We don’t have to continue the scene.”

“No, I... I want to,” Taehyung decides firmly,  tugging just so at the collar with his raised hands. “I like this. I like’ve got me up,” he keeps it vague, and Jimin smiles. But it’s true, he’s a little in love with the pose, being spread an enjoyable shame that he can return to now that Jimin’s assuaged his fear. “I want you to continue, Jimin. I wanna—you know. Please.”

Jimin considers a minute, stroking over Taehyung’s hair. “Okay,” he says, sitting up. “We’ll finish up. And you’ll let me know if there’s anything else you need, right?” Taehyung nods, and Jimin gives him a smile, boops his nose with a finger. Taehyung returns the expression, head already lighter, feeling closer for it. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jimin slicks his fingers with expertise, quickly gets Taehyung worked back up even before he begins to prep him, just tracing a wet finger around Taehyung’s rim until he’s shivering and pleading. It can’t happen fast enough, Jimin delighting in fingering him, in scissoring his fingers apart to press the bottle to Taehyung and squeeze directly in, all he’s able to do in his position clench and drool. And he goes slowly, maddeningly so, until Taehyung’s trying to thrust his hips with desperation, stretched-apart legs trembling. Jimin laughs.

“You trying to fuck yourself on my fingers, sweetheart?” he says in amusement. He’s teasing him, and Taehyung feels a fourth finger press into him and inhales, Jimin whistling low. “Your hole’s so sloppy, Taetae. Need something more, maybe?”

“Please,” Taehyung manages out in a babble, because Jimin knows, gets off on making him into a mess. He tries again weakly to jerk himself up, Jimin snickering at the motion. “Jimin, please, I deserve it, please.”

“Deserve what?” Jimin asks innocently, tilting his head. “Aren’t I paying attention to you?”

“You know what I mean,” Taehyung says, lip bitten to a sting as he circles his hips. Jimin just raises an eyebrow. “What I want, Jimin, please.”

“I need to hear you say it,” Jimin sighs, pressing little kisses to the back of Taehyung’s thigh. “What do you want, darling?”

“I want—” Taehyung shudders, and with a particular curl of Jimin’s fingers he lets it fall— “Wanna get fucked,” he gasps, blurting out even as his stomach rolls hot. “I want you, Jimin, want you to—fuck me. Please.”

For a moment he thinks Jimin might torment him longer. But then he smiles, pulling his fingers out slick in one motion.

“Baby,” he says, “All you had to do was ask.”

Jimin’s ready quick after that, perhaps true to his promise to finish up. And Taehyung’s more than ready, tossing his head back with a low moan when Jimin presses into him, gives him a moment to adjust and simply feel while he grinds in his hips and Taehyung pants.

“S’this what you wanted?” Jimin murmurs. He’s sat up above him, fingers lightly tracing pattern down Taehyung’s calves. “My fingers weren’t enough? Wanted me to fill you up?”

Taehyung licks his lips, stomach heaving, and he fixes Jimin’s eyes to say— “I said I wanted,” he breathes, “you to fuck me.”

Jimin laughs, slowly pulling out to tease before thrusting back in once. “Love my dick that much, huh?” he sings, and splays a hand flat to Taehyung’s stomach, pressing down. Fucks into Taehyung just how he likes, and the new angle with his hips lifted opens him up like never before, until Taehyung’s shaking bodily and seeing stars. Cries at the loss when Jimin pulls out and pulls him apart, laughing—

“Sucking me right in,” he teases when Taehyung’s body twitches in response, breath heaving fast. “Messy, messy boy. You are getting off on this, aren’t you?”

His tone’s perfect. Taehyung babbles now, thighs trembling above him. “Jimin, please—want, need you to in me, wanna be open for you, just for you—”

“Greedy, too,” Jimin comments. He slides his thumbs into Taehyung, and Taehyung’s not quite sure what he’s doing until he feels Jimin hook his thumbs, tug him open. The moan slips out unbidden, filthy, and Jimin spits in him. “I’ve got you so wet and loose, Tae. Sure you’ll even feel my dick?”

Taehyung hiccups, and Jimin takes pity. He works himself back in slowly, tapping his dick first until Taehyung’s clenching emptily before he fucks back in, dancer’s hips working a maddening rhythm.

“Gonna use you to make myself come,” he promises in a low voice, kissing down Taehyung’s calf. Taehyung nods, unable to tear his eyes away from Jimin’s, lidded and focused solely on him. Even when Jimin picks back up his pace, Taehyung rides through it, desperate to keep their eyes locked—until Jimin’s stuttering, tipping his head back with a gorgeous moan. His hips go torturously slow, Taehyung’s nails digging in his palms to feel him, breath an insatiated inhale.

And he’s left on the edge as Jimin takes his time, rotates his hips once before pulling out, leaving him empty. Taehyung stumbles over the plea, but Jimin understands, thumbing over Taehyung’s hole with sated interest.

“Please,” it comes out hitched. "I need—Jimin. Please."

“I don’t know,” Jimin tilts his head, hair brushing light against Taehyung’s calf. He looks over him lazily, licks his lips. “I could leave you here like this,” he teases softly, blinking slowly at him. Taehyung shudders as Jimin reaches his hand to ghost across Taehyung’s stomach, palm his dick. “So pretty and desperate for me. Someday, maybe. I could play with you when I liked, or ignore you altogether, doll sitting in the corner…”

He needs it, more than anything. It’s all consuming as Jimin toys with him, voice a rasp when Taehyung begs, “Jiminie,” entirely a wreck, tone breaking. “Please. Let me come.”

“Mm,” Jimin considers. He bends to press a kiss to the head of Taehyung’s cock, and he’s so close to the edge it’s a wonder Taehyung doesn’t come alone seeing Jimin lick precum off his lip. “Another time. You’re right. Said we’d finish up. So let’s finish you off, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung breathes when Jimin works his fingers back into him, brushing his lips down the inside of his thighs. “Thank—ah, thank you, Jimin—”

There’s no warning when Jimin kisses down, down, farther until Taehyung’s stiffening, seizing up. Jimin glances up at him, eyebrow quirked.

“Can I?” he murmurs. Taehyung’s breath catches, and he nods frantically with a gulp.

It’s hard for Taehyung to keep his head up in this position, but it’s worth it to watch how Jimin goes down on him almost reverently. For a minute he’s content to massage his finger inside Taehyung, peppering little kisses around; when he slides them out is when he really goes to work, swiping his tongue across his lips before flicking it across Taehyung’s hole wetly, breath exhaled hot. Sensitive, already so close to the edge, Taehyung’s moan is broken, toes curling.

Jimin pulls back, nipping up Taehyung’s thigh. “Ever been eaten out?” he asks calmly as he grazes his teeth over the marks.

“Not—” Taehyung gasps. “Not like—this.”

Jimin smiles before leaning back in, pokes his tongue low just to flatten it, drag up a wet stripe. He’s loud, too, delights in obscene wet smacks of his lips that have Taehyung arching his hips up as best he can. Instead of handling him back down Jimin meets him, swirling his tongue once more around Taehyung’s rim. Pulls back an inch when Taehyung’s close, almost crying, clenching uselessly, but Jimin just blows cool air across Taehyung with a smile.

“What a good boy,” he says. “My baby. I think I’d like to make you come like this.”

“Please, m’so—” Taehyung’s legs are shaking pathetically, almost comically, connecting chain jingling against the headboard. He muffles back a sob as Jimin pushes his tongue back in, working sinfully deep and looking up to meet Taehyung’s eyes as he does it— Taehyung tosses his head back and to the side, dazed, stomach heaving. “May I—May I—please, please—”

“Come for me,” Jimin says as he works his fingers back in and up, sucking at Taehyung’s rim with another wet kiss. With his free hand he reaches back to pump Taehyung, and as Taehyung gives a final, bodily shudder Jimin sits back up, hollows his cheeks and slides his mouth down Taehyung’s dick as he comes. Taehyung forces his eyes open through it, mouth a soundless oh as Jimin pulls off him, jerks his cock into overstimulation, string of spit and cum connecting tip to mouth as he licks his lips noisily. He leans back in once, to swirl his tongue and tap the head against it; finishes with a final messy kiss, lips streaked and spit bubbling, and smiles way too innocently.

In the aftershocks Taehyung trembles, finally letting his head fall back again, bangs clinging to his forehead. “Oh, god,” he finally manages weakly, as Jimin disconnects the bar from the headboard.

“Slowly,” Jimin murmurs. True to his word he lowers Taehyung’s legs down steadily, inch by inch, and when he uncuffs Taehyung’s ankles he starts in a gentle massage, small circles across Taehyung’s thighs and calves. “How are you feeling?”

Taehyung wets his lips, rotates his foot when Jimin taps, stretching stiffened muscles. “Jimin, that was—” he blinks, saying dazedly, “You’ve still got my—on your mouth. Fuck.”

Jimin quirks a smile. “Most boys would be more excited about that,” he teases, making a show of running his tongue over his lips.

“I am,” Taehyung mumbles, mind fog. “Oh, god. I am. You’re so—I’m so, we’re—?”

“We’re good,” Jimin says, patting Taehyung’s stomach soothingly before reaching up to unhook the handcuffs. Taehyung winces a little straightening out his elbows despite Jimin’s slowly scold, before he continues, “We’re good. You’re so good, Taehyung.” he reaches for the collar’s buckle, but Taehyung shakes his head.

“Leave it on?” he almost asks, a little out of it. A smile tugs at Jimin’s lip, his eyes softening.

“Okay. Do you need anything?”

“I think—water? And—you.” it comes out a bit raspy, emphasizing the need. Jimin presses a kiss to Taehyung’s stomach before climbing off the bed, “I’ll be back in a minute, okay?”

He returns quickly, true to his word. They curl together after drinking a pleasant fill, because when Jimin asks what he’d like Taehyung’s only answer is to cuddle. So Jimin burrows into his chest, letting Taehyung wrap his arms around him and squeeze, lips brushing his temple and Jimin’s slow breaths calming against his neck.

“You know, I’ve realized something,” Taehyung says after a bit.

Jimin pulls back to look up at him. “Oh?”

“We’ll be gone for two weeks,” Taehyung says. Jimin quirks an eyebrow at him, and a little breathlessly, Taehyung says, “So—I’ll heal. You can mark me. All you like.”

It’s bold. Jimin’s eyes darken, and in a second he’s lowering his head back to suck a kiss-turned-bruise mark on Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung gasps weakly.

“I meant—lower, though, I can’t wear scarves the whole trip!” he protests, though it’s not unkind, thrill speeding his heart.

“It’s cold enough,” Jimin replies innocently, laughing when Taehyung groans. “We’re going to have so much fun.”

“Can’t believe you haven’t even been here a full day yet,” Taehyung mutters, burying his face in Jimin’s hair. “I needed that so bad.”

Jimin hums. “And you’re okay?” he asks, rubbing a hand up Taehyung’s back. “I’m sorry about the clamps. I should have remembered you aren’t used to them.”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung reassures. His sigh ruffles Jimin’s hair. “I just—I dunno, felt stupid asking in-scene. Kinda dumb.”

“Don’t ever feel stupid with me,” Jimin scolds, but it’s gentle. “You had fun? You feel good?”

“I feel great,” Taehyung stresses, and Jimin laughs. “Really, I’ve been so busy getting stuff together for the winter… I needed this so badly. God, I even… wore the collar out, I just… wanted to drop so bad. Fuck, sounds so stupid, but…”

“I just said it’s not stupid!” Jimin says sternly. “That’s… really cute, though, Tae. Little bit of an exhibitionist, we may have to explore that some more in the future, hm?”

Taehyung pretends to groan, Jimin muffling his own laugh against his chest. It melts into kisses again, his teeth against Taehyung’s collarbone. Taehyung snickers. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

“Gonna turn you black and blue, baby,” Jimin looks back up to wink at him. “Gotta mark up my favorite.”

Taehyung’s heart skips a beat, but he teases back, “I bet you say that to all your clients.”

“They wish,” Jimin scoffs, and angles up to peck Taehyung’s lips. “You think I offer anyone a chance to dom me?”

“Earlier?” Taehyung raises an eyebrow, recalling Jimin’s teasing against the wall. “You’d… teach me?”

Jimin shrugs. “If you liked,” he says. “I don’t care. I prefer to dom, and anyway, it’s not something I’d trust clients with, especially short-term. But I trust you, if you ever were interested in learning properly. Of course,” he adds with a smirk, “That is, if you thought you could handle me.”

Taehyung shivers, complaining weakly, “How can I when I have a reaction like that?” He pretends to sigh dramatically as Jimin shoves at his chest. “Maybe it’d be fun, someday? I don’t know. I like how we are. I like… losing myself,” he tells himself not to feel stupid saying it, Jimin’s understanding nod making him feel better. “I like how you take care of me.”

“Nothing wrong with that, baby,” Jimin hums. “I love taking care of you.”

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” Taehyung echoes Jimin’s words earlier, drowsy smile on his face and pleasant buzz in his head. “God. I’m so excited for this trip.”

“Me too, Tae,” Jimin says affectionately, leaning in to peck a kiss to his nose. “Wait. Don’t say it—“

“Happy birthday,” Taehyung blurts out anyway, grin starting to hurt his cheeks. Jimin rolls his eyes, but his cheeks flush pink. “Happy birthday, Jimin.”

Chapter Text

If Taehyung were to make a list of his favorite ways to wake up, gently would be a descriptor in every category. He experiences the opposite when, the next morning, he’s woken up by Jimin jumping on the bed and landing on top of him with a shout.

“Wake up,” he says over Taehyung’s startled yell, pinning his flailing arms. “I bought you a vibrator.”

“Jimin? What’s—” Taehyung slurs. Light pierces through his eyelids when Jimin pushes up his eye mask, and he squints up helplessly, bundled up in the cocoon of blankets he’d gathered during the night. “You already found a sex shop?”

“Taehyung, we went to bed at, like, eight p.m.,” Jimin scolds, straddling his hips. “It’s noon. Wake up.”

“You fucked my mind out, and I forgot to set an alarm,” Taehyung accuses, throwing his arm out to pat along the nightstand blindly. He groans hearing what sounds like his glasses clatter to the floor. “Oh, god, what year is it?"

“You’re such a mess,” Jimin observes, but it sounds fond. “C’mon, I picked up breakfast and everything.”

“Five more minutes,” Taehyung mumbles. The last thing he sees is Jimin’s scowl before he grabs a pillow and shoves it down on Taehyung’s face.

“Is he awake yet?” Taehyung hears Jimin pretend to ask aloud, hitting the mattress beside the pillow with a hand. There’s a brief rush of light and air when Jimin lifts it up to check before slamming it back down, “Nope. Not yet.”

Jimin’s deviously oblivious to Taehyung’s insisting he’s awake, he’s awake, he said he’s awake. Finally Taehyung slips his arm out, letting it lay stretched out, palm an open invitation. Jimin’s torment pauses, and then Taehyung feels Jimin slip his hand into his, locking their fingers together. He pulls the pillow off. Even half-smothered and hair a mess, Taehyung manages to smile at him, and Jimin leans down to kiss his forehead.

“Good morning,” he teases, squeezing Taehyung’s hand.

“G’morning,” Taehyung repeats back absently, “How’d you sleep?”

“Great,” Jimin says, letting go of Taehyung’s hand to roll off his hips and flop on his back on the bed beside him. Jimin stares at the ceiling, and Taehyung stares at Jimin. He’s already showered and dressed, Taehyung feeling a surge of affection to recognize earrings he’d bought him. “Not as well as you, though. You were out like a light. I tried to wake you up earlier and you called me Mom and said you weren’t ready for class.”

“Being woken up is a traumatizing experience,” Taehyung defends himself. Stretching, he yawns, watching Jimin roll over to prop himself up on his elbow and look down at Taehyung. “You said something about breakfast?”

“Not in bed. Get up, sleepyhead.”

“You said wake up,” Taehyung points out shrewdly. “Not get up. I’m going to need something more for that.”

Jimin rolls his eyes, but plays along. “And what’s that?”

Taehyung pretends to think. “A good morning kiss?” he suggests casually. “Or else I’ll fall in this enchanted sleep forever. Then I’ll never get up…”

“You’re so dramatic,” Jimin scolds, but leans in to kiss him, hand to his cheek. He pulls back when Taehyung tries to deepen it. “Morning breath, you big baby. Go wash up and I’ll show you what I bought. And, yes, there’ll be breakfast, too.”

It’s a good deal. Taehyung even manages to tug Jimin down for another kiss before he goes.








“So about this vibrator,” Taehyung says. “I know you packed at least three, so what’s up with this one?”

The dining room is the center of the apartment, a large open flat that’s well lit by floor-to-ceiling windows. The kitchen is open to its side, Jimin having sorted everything before, bringing it to Taehyung at the table. Now they’re sat across from each other, Taehyung’s curiosity peaked as he eats.

“It’s not just a vibrator, of course,” Jimin almost scolds, but it’s not unkind. “I mean, it is. But a little different. You know how bluetooth works, right?”

Suddenly Taehyung’s mouth goes dry. He swallows thickly, and says, “I’m familiar with the concept.”

Jimin catches it instantly, leaning in with a smile.

“Well,” he says, “I think you’ll appreciate this, then. Follows the concept of remote controlled vibrators, but with a little fine-tuning, and controlled from my phone.”

Jimin tugs at his pocket. On the table he places what Taehyung recognizes as a similar shape to a prostate massager. Delicately, Jimin unlocks his phone. Ten seconds or so later, it’s turned on–and then increasing in intensity until it’s almost bouncing on the table with vibrations before waving back down. Jimin turns his phone around to Taehyung, whose breath catches to see a control screen, the toy responding to the swipe of Jimin’s finger.

“Oh,” Taehyung breathes out. “That’s—I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Jimin laughs. “Quite the opposite, actually. Isn’t this more of a treat than anything?”

“I know you better than that,” Taehyung accuses, already struggling not to squirm a little. “I thought we might do some sightseeing and shopping today.”

“Who says we can’t?” Jimin asks innocently, chin in hands. “It’s going to need some time to charge up. Think you’ll be ready to go out in, say, an hour?”

With a start to the day like that, motivation to get ready is easy to find. Taehyung picks out an outfit and hangs it over the door in preparation for when he’s set to go, and fingers himself open for Jimin when he comes in to give Taehyung the massager and works in the toy until it’s set in place with a shiver.

It’s almost hard to get dressed after that, his instincts set to stay in the bedroom and finish, not head out for the day. Still he readies himself, a little zoned out adjusting to the feeling of being full he likes so well, and gives his face a last wash and hair a quick patdown before coming out to meet Jimin.

He’s on his phone when Taehyung comes out to the living room, formerly a mundane sight but now all the more sinister. Jimin smiles at him when he comes in, gestures for him to sit down on the couch across from him.

“You look cute,” he says, eyes crinkling. His voice is inviting, but certainly an order when he says, “Bend over.”

Being handled by Jimin is dangerous in that Taehyung is near constantly struggling to control his breathing. It’s no exception when, obediently, he gets on his knees and bends over the couch, feeling the odd contrast to his pressed dress clothing and the submissive positioning. Jimin stands and crouches behind him to tug and work down the hemline of Taehyung's pants. As he does one of Taehyung’s favorite feelings washes over him, the perfect and unique humiliation to know Jimin can and has seen every part of him, that he has nothing to hide, can let go and enjoy the gentle humiliation of being inspected. Jimin whistles low, hands cupping Taehyung’s ass before Taehyung can feel him almost reverently touch the base of the toy through his briefs.

“Good boy,” he says. Taehyung mumbles a thank-you back dazedly. “You look so good. I’m gonna turn it on now, okay?”

Jimin fusses getting his hand under the fabric of the briefs, and Taehyung shivers to feel Jimin's fingers brush over him as he finds the button and holds down. Taehyung doesn’t feel any indication it’s turned on, but Jimin must be satisfied, because he pats Taehyung’s ass once before standing back up and telling Taehyung to redress and sit. Taehyung stands tugs his pants back up before sitting down across from Jimin, fiddling with his hands a little nervously. Jimin has sat back down, his phone picked back up. Taehyung eyes it warily.

“There’s a few different settings to play with,” Jimin says, sensing his curiosity. He turns the screen around for a moment, looking devious. “It looks like I can control it manually, or make it sound-activated. Do you wanna try it out?”

Taehyung swallows. “Please.”

Jimin’s thumb flicks for a setting. Then he looks at Taehyung, running his eyes over him for a moment before setting his phone down and clapping loudly.

Before Taehyung can process the movement the toy jumps inside him, drawing out of him a startled sound and half-jerking. The vibration runs heady for a second before stopping. He looks back up at Jimin with wide eyes, a grin spreading across both their faces.

“The remote,” Jimin says a little distractedly, a lick at his lips. His thumb begins to slide up, and then Taehyung finds himself involuntarily squirming, the motion becoming more pronounced and desperate as the vibrations increase in strength. Until he’s shaking, bucking his hips with an exhale that twists into a whine, unable to sit still. The vibrations cut out. Taehyung stares at Jimin, panting, trembling.

“Oh, baby,” Jimin murmurs. He stands, stepping close to Taehyung in one motion and tipping up his chin. Taehyung cranes into the touch, opens his mouth for the kiss Jimin pulls from him. He makes a pitiful noise into Jimin’s mouth when Jimin lifts his leg, steps so lightly between Taehyung’s legs, and pulls back, phone in hand. “God, you get me so hot. I want you to try to come like this for me. If you can in one minute, you’re allowed. Otherwise, we’re going out like this.”

It’s all the warning he gets before the vibrations surge back. Taehyung jolts, and then tries to collect himself as best he can, mind spinning but eager for Jimin’s challenge. It’s embarrassing at first, just gently grinding up against the sole of Jimin’s shoe, but then the vibrations increase steadily, and before Taehyung knows it he’s rutting up desperately. Whimpering in a broken tone, flush hot on his cheeks to meet Jimin’s eyes staring back down at him, and the heat almost gets to him, the humiliation and stimulation all at once—

the vibrations stop. Taehyung half-cries, twitching, hips jerked up once more. Jimin sets his foot back on the ground, a smile on his face that, Taehyung’s by now learned, is anything but innocent.

“Must not have wanted it enough,” Jimin says. Taehyung gulps, trying to even out his breathing. “Looks like there’s a three hour charge. Let’s go have some fun, shall we?”









Taehyung hadn’t thought it could get any worse than it had in the car (Jimin had set it to sound-activated, then, hands-free, driving safety, he’d said with a serious look on his face; and then made no secret of speaking just loud enough for the vibrator to offer Taehyung a low, near-constant rumble) but the game changes when they’re out and about.

Taehyung tries to learn to brace himself—but sometimes Jimin will take out his phone just to check the time, to give a tensed Taehyung a knowing smile before putting it back away. Sometimes he’ll stay on it a few minutes, just long enough to let Taehyung relax; then turn on the massager when Taehyung least expects it.

“This looks good on me,” Jimin teases, spinning around in a coat for Taehyung to see. “What do you think?”

A little dazed, Taehyung nods. “It looks good,” he says, and it’s the truth. He fishes for his wallet, slides out his card. “Let me get it for you.”

Preening under the praise, Jimin smiles. “For me?” he teases, and pulls out his phone. Taehyung stiffens. “You shouldn’t have,” he says, and the vibrations turn up, up, up, a curse and reward.








“Would you like to come, darling?” Jimin murmurs.

They’re seated across from each other, a bistro-styled set of two chairs beside a small round table. Taehyung’s certain it’s an ordinary enough sight for anyone who were to look, even innocent. The way Taehyung’s got his eyes fixed on Jimin, though, hand gripped in his across the table–it’s the desperation of drowning.

“Jimin,” it’s broken, low and under his breath. He wets his lips. “I—I need.”

“Keep quiet,” Jimin orders softly. Taehyung’s sure he’s squeezing his hand too hard for comfort, but Jimin lets him be anchored, keeping their eyes locked as his finger slides up on the screen steadily. Taehyung’s eyelids flutter, lips parting. Certain his gaze is dazed, stupid, obvious if anyone were to look too long, and the thought sends a rush of blood to his cheeks.

He whimpers.

Like that the stimulation’s cut off. Jimin watches impassively as Taehyung’s eyes widen in desperation, silent pleading, hovering on an edge with nothing to push him over. He might be digging his nails into Jimin’s hand.

“Told you to be quiet,” is all Jimin says under his breath. He locks his phone and slides it back in his pocket, patting Taehyung’s hand. “Let’s get going, huh?”

“Jimin,” Taehyung pleads. Louder when they’ve made it into the car— “Jimin.”

“Something wrong?” Jimin asks as he starts the car, lips twitching. Taehyung groans, head thumping back against the seat.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles. Jimin snickers, and the look he gives Taehyung is one he’s started to associate with mild fear and anticipation.

“Oh, I know,” Jimin says. His hand finds Taehyung’s thigh and gives a squeeze. “Tell you what—maybe if you’re good enough for me, I’ll play a little game, let you punish me when we get back. That sound fun, sweetheart?”

Taehyung’s breath catches. His voice comes out a croak. “What do—what do I have to do?”

“Let’s see,” Jimin says appreciatively, running his eyes over Taehyung before picking up his phone. Taehyung watches him set the vibrations to a low but steady pattern. “Let’s say you try to make it home without coming. Think you can do that, slut? Make it home without coming all over yourself?”

Taehyung’s already groaning at his words, aching from being denied so long. The hum of the toy is the opposite of helpful. “I—don’t know,” he admits in an honest gasp, gripping the side of the seat. Jimin laughs. “But I’ll try. For you.”

“That’s my good baby,” Jimin murmurs, setting the car into reverse. “Make it home and you can play with me. Disappoint me, well,” setting the shift back and spinning the wheel, he smiles to himself and steps on the gas. “We’ll see about your punishment, then. I’ll have fun no matter what.”

The ride’s a blur. Taehyung’s not even sure how he makes it back to the apartment, fingernails digging into the seats. Jimin keeps a hand on his thigh for most of it, and oddly enough it’s more grounding than anything, Taehyung focusing on the pressure rather than the pleasure.

“You made it,” Jimin says when he pulls into the driveway. His hand finds the back of Taehyung’s neck, pulling him into a kiss that’s all too languid in contrast to Taehyung’s desperation. He pulls back after a bite at Taehyung’s lip to murmur, “I’m not sure if I’m disappointed or pleased."

“Be either,” Taehyung begs, “Just give me something. Anything.”

“Anything, huh?” Jimin teases. He trails the lightest of touches over Taehyung’s crotch, eyes fixed on his pathetically obvious arousal. “Let’s get inside. I’m not desperate enough to get off between the seats, even if you are.”

Jimin is understanding of Taehyung’s impatience, letting Taehyung circle an arm around his waist as they make their way up the steps and through the door into the hallway. Taehyung’s keening for his attention the instant they’re to the bedroom, but Jimin’s still as much of a tease as ever, keeping a hand on Taehyung’s chest to keep him at a distance. Taehyung pouts at him.

“I know,” Jimin soothes, tosses his hair back attractively, “I know, darling. I’m awful, aren’t I?”

Taehyung keens for him, lips curved to pout for attention. “The worst.”

“Hm,” Jimin comments, tapping a finger to his lips. Slowly, he says, “Do you think you’d like to punish me for that?”

Taehyung’s breath catches, head already in the clouds. He remembers Jimin’s offer the night before, and swallows.

“What–do you want me to do?”

Looking pleased he’s playing along, Jimin finally lets him forward, tugging Taehyung to him. He slots into Taehyung’s arms and against his chest perfectly, and when he takes hold of Taehyung’s wrists it’s as firm as could be while still being considered gentle. With a hum Jimin guides Taehyung’s hands down the small of his back, and lower–Taehyung cups his hands reverently, just a bit of a grip.

“I think,” Jimin says, “It’s more what you’d want to do to me.”

Taehyung must look dazed, because Jimin laughs good naturedly, waves a hand in front of Taehyung’s face. “Still with me?” he asks softly. Taehyung gives a little nod of his head, almost a shake to clear it, and doesn’t feel guilty when he squeezes Jimin’s ass to ground himself. “Good,” Jimin says, stroking Taehyung’s cheek with a hand. “I think we could have a bit of fun playing with our roles. You stop me if you don’t like anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Taehyung replies. It’s hoarse; he’s got to clear his throat and repeat it, mouth dry. “No, I’m–I’m fine. Wanna play. I’m good. Please.”

“You are,” Jimin agrees back, tipping up to peck Taehyung’s lips. “Now, what’s something I do to you when you’re bad?”

Taehyung’s almost fed the answer. Jimin arches his back slightly, smiling when Taehyung gropes him again.

“I…” Taehyung exhales. “Spank…you?”

“Mm, again,” It’s a command but in the gentlest of tones. Jimin circles his arms around Taehyung’s waist, a hand on his back. Silent reassurance he’s doing well, that he’s okay. “A little more authority.”

Taehyung swallows again and nods, tries, “I’m–going to spank you.”

Jimin’s lips curve humoredly. “Okay,” he says kindly. “How do you want me?”

Taehyung’s mind races. To any number of positions, to so many of their sessions. This is uncharted territory, but he’s far gone as could be and all too into how Jimin’s guiding him. So he thinks, and settles with a croaked, “On the bed.”

Jimin gives Taehyung a nod, then another soft kiss before pulling back. He’s coy about it, flashing Taehyung a knowing smirk over his shoulder before climbing onto the bed on his hands and knees, settling onto his elbows with his back arched. Taehyung’s brain blanks for a second, but then Jimin tugs at and snaps the hem of his pants, and Taehyung works to do the same, hooking his fingers under Jimin’s waistline and tugging down the fabric til it’s bunched around his knees.

It goes without saying Jimin’s got thick thighs and an amazing ass. Taehyung’s known this since the first day they met and has enjoyed reminders each time after. The reversed roles are entirely different now, and Jimin lets his cheek press into the sheets as he looks back to ask, “You ever spanked someone before?”

Taehyung shakes his head. Jimin whistles. “Shame, with those pretty hands,” both teasing and praising. “Don’t worry. I’ll walk you through it. I’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

Jimin explains the warmup to him first, before anything else. To start light, get the blood flowing–make it more pleasurable, safer. The explanation is wrapped up in summation, “Think of it like pregaming, for my blood vessels.”

“Why does that actually help?” Taehyung mumbles, to Jimin’s laughter. Taehyung calls back to how Jimin’s held him in the past, channeling some of his favorites. He starts with light slaps, almost hesitant, but grows more confident as Jimin encourages him, squeezing and trailing his nails. Jimin’s feedback is verbal as well as physical–soft exhales and sighs, murmured encouragement.

“How do I look?” Jimin asks breathlessly. Taehyung has to suppress a groan running his hand over the beginning handiwork and gripping with his hand. “Am I being good for you? Making you feel better?”

“God, yes,” slips out. “Can I–Jimin–?”

Jimin confirms sweetly. “Mhm, see what I mean about the bloodflow? It’s stinging so nicely, too. You’ve got such nice big hands.”

“Then I’ll—” Taehyung exhales, centering himself. Brings his hand up then down, first hesitantly, then more solid, watching the jiggle of flesh transfixed.

“That’s it,” Jimin coaxes, arcing. “Be confident. You’ll know when it’s good.”

Taehyung thinks he hears it by the sound. A nice, rounded smack, and Jimin wiggles his hips, giving Taehyung a pleased noise. So he hits again, again, until his hand is stinging and Jimin’s almost purring. His skin flames easily, Taehyung hypnotized watching it redden to vaguely the shape of his hand.

“Doing so well,” Jimin says low, “Punishing me so good. Thank you,” and the curve of his smile is wicked when he adds, “Sir.”

Taehyung swears his dick throbs. He suppresses a groan, running a hand over what he’s done. Jimin’s sin incarnate on any day, but his performance is only one half of it; imagining Jimin usually in his position, how he gets to see Taehyung preened just for him. At a particularly loud bite of his palm, Jimin bucks back with an obscene moan, Taehyung’s mind blanking. He tries to think what he’d like to be told in this position–

“Hold still,” Taehyung chokes out. Jimin looks back at him, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed.

“That’s good,” he praises breathlessly. “You’re doing so well, Tae. Doing the best for me,” he watches Taehyung shiver, and whispers, “May I touch myself?”

Taehyung’s probably shit at being strict, but fuck if the idea doesn’t speed his heart.

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes. “Yeah. Touch yourself, Jimin.”

Jimin moans, plays with himself like he’s putting on a show. And he is, really; the audience being Taehyung, and how he’s starting to fear he could come untouched from watching alone. Jimin palms his dick with reddened ass up, hair falling across his face as he keeps his eyes locked with Taehyung, tongue just poking out when he shows his teeth in a knowing grin.

“Your dick’s so hard, sir,” Jimin breathes out. Taehyung grits his teeth, the reminder dialing him right back up to that edge, clenching and struggling to breathe steady. “Wanna take care of you. Wanna be on my knees for you.”

“Fuck,” slips out under Taehyung’s breath. Jimin laughs at him, a whisper of a sound as he bucks his hips into his hands. “Fuck. Please? Please, yes.”

“All you had to do was ask,” Jimin winks. He slides back up onto his heels before slipping off the bed and to the floor. Taehyung’s heart nearly stops at how Jimin crawls to him, slow and sensual, and Taehyung finds himself falling back to sit on the bed for fear of his legs giving out. Jimin settles easily in between them, hands sliding up and down Taehyung’s thighs to rub soothing circles.

“I wanna see you,” Jimin commands. With fumbling hands Taehyung works at his belt buckle, then zipper. The wet spot at the front of his briefs is embarrassingly obvious, the sound of appreciation Jimin makes only adding to it.

“Oh,” Jimin exhales, blinks up sweetly at Taehyung. “Sir’s dripping,” he coos, grin all-knowing when Taehyung whimpers. “Gonna let me take care of you?”

“D-Do it,” Taehyung groans. Pleasure from stimulation at last floods through him as Jimin leans in, mouthing hot where Taehyung’s dick strains against his briefs. Taehyung gasps out something indecipherable, a choked protest of too much too little, and on reflex grabs a fistful of Jimin’s hair. Jimin stops, and Taehyung freezes, yanking his hand back immediately.

“Sorry,” falls out in a jumbled mess. “I just–I’m sorry.”

“Shh,” Jimin soothes, catching his hand. “You’re okay. I like it, sweetheart.”

“Should’ve asked,” Taehyung mumbles.

Jimin nods. “Yeah. But it’s okay. I’m fine. We’re fine. You’re comfortable with this?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers. Jimin squeezes his hand. “God, you’re–so hot.”

“Yeah?” Jimin sighs out the tease, pressing a kiss to Taehyung’s thigh. His thumb brushes over Taehyung’s knuckle once before he draws his hand back, holding it up, demonstrating as he snaps a couple of times, the sound clear. “I’ll let you know if I need anything, okay?”

“Okay,” Taehyung nods. Shifting on the bed with a shiver, he pats out a hand for Jimin’s phone, and finds it, holds it up. “Can you…?”

Jimin holds out his thumb to unlock it, then laces his hands behind his back. Taehyung shudders, just barely sliding the vibrations up on the app, the massager inside buzzing back to life in tandem. Setting the phone back aside he tugs his dick out of the briefs, giving himself a few pumps, nearly losing himself to the pleasure. It’s Jimin’s hum that draws him back, shaking.

“Jiminie,” Taehyung manages, wanting so badly but unsure of the words. “I–I want.”

“Tell me what you want,” Jimin coaxes. He wets his lips, parting them perfect-pink. “Give it to me, Taehyungie.”

Breath stuttering out, Taehyung slides his hand up and off his dick, scooting closer to the edge of the bed. It’s encouragement enough for Jimin, who flashes a last gorgeous smile before leaning in. Jimin flattens his tongue against the underside as he goes down, not a single beat missed as Taehyung feels the tip slide against the wet heat of Jimin’s throat. It takes everything in him not to buck his hips, hand finding Jimin’s hair again and a whine falling out between his lips.

The sound’s debauched, Jimin hollowing his cheeks and fucking his mouth down on Taehyung’s dick with professioned ease. With shaking hands Taehyung fumbles for Jimin’s phone, plays with the vibrations and sets a fluctuating, up-down pattern; teased for so long, he’s already so close, gasps it to Jimin.

“Jimin–” Taehyung tries to grit out a warning, words falling into a desperate moan. “I’m–”

Jimin slides back and off the tip with a pop. Taehyung feels his jaw go slack to watch Jimin nuzzle to him, press a kiss to the head of his cock, finger tapping a claim against his balls–

“Come down my throat,” Jimin demands, voice just the hint of a rasp, precum smeared across swollen lips. “I can take it, Taetae.”

That’s all the warning Taehyung has before Jimin goes back to work, digging his tongue into Taehyung’s slit then stuffing his mouth once more. It’s both a kick from the massager and the wet heat of Jimin’s throat that lets the tension finally snap, Taehyung gasping as he comes hard, one hand gripped tight in Jimin’s hair and the other fisted in the bedsheets. Hours of on-and-off teasing drag it out, pleasured waves ripping through Taehyung before he slumps. Jimin stays in place a minute, making Taehyung shiver, before slowly pulling up and off.

“Good,” Jimin murmurs, bringing a hand up to squeeze Taehyung’s thigh as Taehyung fumbles for the remote to slide the vibrations off. “So good. You’re so good, Taehyung. Taste so good, baby.”

He nuzzles into Taehyung’s thigh with an urgency misplaced to Taehyung’s loose limbs. Stirring and blinking slow, Taehyung realizes Jimin hasn’t gotten off, and drops his hand slips from Jimin’s hair to his cheek. Jimin turns to kiss his wrist, then reaches to twine their fingers together. With their hands locked Jimin stands and slides easily onto Taehyung’s lap, settling in with his knees on either side of Taehyung’s thighs, demanding attention.

“You gonna take care of me?” Jimin breathes, smiling as they lean closer. Taehyung’s answer is a kiss as he reaches between them to finish Jimin off, jerking his hand until he’s coming with a gorgeous, fluttered sigh against Taehyung’s lips.

They collapse back onto the bed together, breathless. Mind still fuzzy, Taehyung half-exhales, half whistles.

“That,” he manages, “was. Something.”

Jimin snorts, rolling over to lay beside Taehyung. He brushes a hand back through Taehyung’s bangs, smiling fondly. “Yeah? That’s good, right?”

Taehyung nods fervently. “I think…” he says slowly, “I still like. You know, being taken care of. When you dom me. More. Still, that was…” Jimin raises an eyebrow, smile amused. “God, you know. Don’t make me try to talk anymore. But that was amazing. You’re so hot, Jimin.”

“Thanks, baby,” Jimin pecks a kiss to Taehyung’s nose, then cheek, then lips. “You’re not so bad yourself, you know.”

The afterglow is sweet. They talk hazily of the exploration before dragging themselves to the shower, changing the sheets together once out. It’s terribly domestic, the two of them working together to stretch new bedding over the mattress–and when it’s on Jimin tugs Taehyung down.

The two of them rest for a while, each on their own phones with skin still brushing. Taehyung’s browsing through delivery options when Jimin coos at something on his phone, and when Taehyung looks over he recognizes the screen. It’s his own instagram, specifically a photo he’d posted of the sunrise the morning he’d left for Japan. He’d uploaded it before he could chicken out, the only caption being the camera emoji.

“You posted some of your work!” Jimin says delightedly.

“Stop,” Taehyung whines, “It’s dumb.”

“It’s cute,” Jimin insists. “And you’re good, Tae!”

“S’nothing special,” Taehyung mutters, but inside he’s glowing. “It’s just a hobby.”

“A hobby you’re amazing at,” Jimin declares, solidly tapping to like. “You’re so well rounded. No wonder I stanned you last year. I sensed talent.”

“Would you stop,” Taehyung groans, but he’s laughing.

Jimin snaps his fingers like he’s remembered something.

“Ah,” he says, pleased. “That reminds me. You remember the pictures we took…?” it takes a second for Taehyung to remember the night before, but then he recalls it—Jimin’s hand guiding him, the click of the shutter on Jimin’s phone. He shivers and nods.

“Wanna take a look together?” Jimin asks. “Post, maybe. Only if you’re comfortable,” he adds quickly, firmly.

Taehyung nods again. “Yeah. I think I’d like that, Jimin.”

Taehyung reflects, when Jimin pulls up the pictures to show him, on the odd feeling it brings. He’s seen thousands of pictures of himself, but never like this; there’s Jimin’s hand soft on his neck, showing off the back of his collar. A shot of his binds, all of it recognizable to him, and to Jimin, but no one else. It’s certainly kinky, but even more than that it’s almost cute. Jimin makes him feel pretty, looking at the pictures, vulnerable but identity private between them.

There’s not a lot of hesitation giving Jimin permission to post, and each time they check the comments Taehyung’s stomach twists pleasantly. People complimenting him, people praising Jimin, saying they wish they were in Taehyung’s spot–and Taehyung thinks he can’t blame them. In between they make out, slow and lazy and perfect.

A half hour or so later Taehyung gets the urge to check on his own phone. Now, Taehyung does check Jimin’s instagram often, though he’ll admit it’s very carefully. One of his biggest fears is accidentally liking something, so the paranoia often prevents extended browsing. Still he’s been neglecting recently, so it’s with excitement (though cautious) he navigates to Jimin’s account, scrolling past the recent post. Something that catches his attention instantly is a video that, when expanded, shows today’s new toy on the table, Jimin making a demonstration of playing with the settings. The caption is a simple treat for baby, Taehyung’s face heating enough to bury it in Jimin’s shoulder.

“You get so shy. Cute,” Jimin pretends to swoon. “We’re definitely going to have to test more of this public play, hm? Cute collar, cute toy, cute baby.”

“Enough,” Taehyung mumbles into Jimin’s shoulder. Jimin runs a hand over Taehyung’s hair, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “M’still fucked up from today. I think I’ll die if I get hard again.”

“That’s a little dramatic, don’t you think?” Jimin teases, the hand running through his hair dropping lower to thumb at the nape of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung curls closer. “God, you’re so sensitive. I love when I learn everything that gets someone going, and you… you’re like a work of art.”

“Jiminie,” Taehyung insists over the rush of blood to his face, shoving gently at Jimin’s chest. “I mean it. Damn incubus.”

Jimin snorts, but relents, brushing his hands back through Taehyung’s hair. “Okay, okay.”








The days pass lazily, in much the same fashion. By day they’re shopping, sightseeing, exploring; in the evenings and sometimes even while out, they’re exploring in an entirely different way. Taehyung thinks wistfully to himself one morning, poking at marks on his chest, he almost never wants fall fashion to end; knowing little pieces of Jimin are left over him, love in the shape of fingerprints and bruised kisses, and no one but them knows.

Jimin’s grown accustomed to Taehyung’s tendency toward seeking out something to hold dozens of sessions ago, so this morning when Taehyung wakes slowly Jimin’s already awake, scrolling through his phone while Taehyung spoons him. Taehyung lets the sleep fade gradually, muffling a yawn in the back of Jimin’s neck and squeezing his arms around Jimin’s waist. Jimin hums, locking his phone and rolling over to cuddle into Taehyung’s embrace.

“Morning, baby,” Jimin says, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You’re up early.”

Taehyung laughs softly. He really doubts it; the sun through the window is bright and early-afternoon. Living life away from early alarms and hectic schedules for even a while has been too good to him.

“I guess,” Taehyung says drowsily. Thinking of how lax his vacation agenda’s been reminds him, though, of work–specifically, coworkers. “I think I should check in with my manager, see what’s going on.” Recalling, then, the circumstances he’d left under, his brow furrows. “Did you know Jin used to model?”

Jimin blinks at him. “Jin? My Jin?” Taehyung nods. “No. What?”

“I mean, I can see it,” Taehyung professes, letting himself get just a little Gay™. Jimin nods in Gay™ agreement. “But what’s weirder is he used to work for Yoongi. My manager.”

Jimin stares at him a moment. “You’re joking,” he says. “That’s…uncanny.”

“So you didn’t know?” Taehyung presses. Jimin shakes his head, and Taehyung rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I want to know more, but I don’t want to be nosy…”

“Fuck that, I’m curious,” Jimin scoffs. “You said you wanted to call, right? That’s fine. I’ll go get something going for breakfast.”

While Jimin rolls out of bed Taehyung flops out across it, bringing his phone up. Yoongi’s contact picture is a professional looking candid, one Hoseok had snapped in between shoots. It’s replaced one Taehyung had previously of Yoongi passed out at his desk, cheek smudged comically onto a contract. Taehyung permits a smile before hitting to call, and Yoongi picks up within a few rings.

“Hey,” he greets. “Taehyung?”

“Yoooongi,” Taehyung greets in a song, and can’t help but grin when he hears Yoongi snort-laugh, picturing the smile that he knows must on his face. They don’t often go more than a few days without talking, so he’s happy to hear his voice. “How’s everything going?”

“I should be the one asking you that,” Yoongi says. “How’s your trip going?”

Taehyung rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “Amazing,” he admits, setting the call on speaker and the phone beside him. He messes with his hair absently, thinking of the fun of the last week. Shopping, sightseeing, and some of the most intense scenes he and Jimin have ever had; his skin alone’s marked to prove it. He gushes, “God, so amazing. I’m having so much fun.”

Yoongi’s reply is soft. “I’m glad,” he says, “You really did deserve a vacation, and I’m glad you got one. I’ve been going over your winter schedule, and filming is going to be pretty intense.”

Taehyung has to bite his lip to keep back the smile. “I can handle it,” he declares. He’s been reading media about himself, speculation and public interest picking up; some calling it a natural next step, a reason he’s never fully committed to any brand. That’s untrue, but having a drama role is definitely something he’s thought about a lot, so it’s not a lie when he says, “I’m excited.”

“I’m excited for you, too,” Yoongi says, “Even though some of these contracts have been nightmares to read over. Still. Everything’s going fine back here, too.” He pauses, chuckling at something remembered. “I’ve been seeing some of your posts, too. Hobi says your photos are gonna put him out of a job.”

“Never,” Taehyung groans, but glows inside. The praise reminds him of his main reason for calling, though, and slyly he says, “So. How’d that second date go?”

There’s a second of silence, then Yoongi stiffly says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t try to play innocent,” Taehyung coos. “A threesome? Really, hyung?”

“That was a joke,” Yoongi insists over the phone, and Taehyung can picture his face reddening. “We just talked.”

“Uh huh,” Taehyung says, mouth upturning to hear Yoongi’s tongue click in annoyance. “I want every detail.”

“It’s not… that special,” Yoongi says. His tone betrays him, though, that he does want to talk about it. Taehyung knows him well, and so waits patiently, gives him time to collect his thoughts. After a moment, Yoongi sighs.

“I used to manage him,” he says. Taehyung nods even though Yoongi can’t see it. He knows this part. “Similar business model I use with you. It… didn’t last long. He ended up dating someone. Quitting the industry for them.”

“That’s why–” Taehyung realizes, rolling over to curl up around his pillow, facing the phone. “You’ve always been so concerned about me dating.”

“I just wanted to at least know,” Yoongi says. “There was no warning before. He paid the fee to leave our contract and was gone.”

“Did you like him?” Taehyung asks quietly. Yoongi takes a second to reply.

“I think so,” Yoongi says. “But it doesn’t matter anymore. I promote you. It stopped mattering a while ago.”

“Doesn’t it?” Taehyung frowns. “You all seemed fairly… cozy. Considering all that.”

“We’re… talking about it,” Yoongi says. “Surprisingly, it hasn’t been too bad. And… Hoseok seems to like him too. We all talk. Don’t say anything.”

“As though you haven’t been obvious for over a year,” Taehyung grumbles good naturedly to himself. “You don’t have to worry about your image with me, Yoongi. I’ve known you’re a mess for a while now. As long as you’re happy,” he adds before Yoongi can protest, “I hope it works out, because that’s what you deserve. S’not bad to have lots of love. You deserve all of it. I love you, too!”

Yoongi makes a vaguely whined noise that sounds like deflating. Taehyung grins. “Love you, too,” he sighs, “now enjoy your vacation. Don’t worry too much about me, even when you’re back. Especially not if you’re going to believe anything those two yell at you.”

“I mean,” Taehyung grins, knowing Yoongi is thinking about Hoseok’s comment of a threesome. “I did mean it when I said you deserve good things…”

“What about you?” is Yoongi’s serious answer. Taehyung blinks.

“I have good things,” Taehyung says after a moment. “I’ve got you, and Hoseok. I’ve got my dream job. I’ve got… Jimin,” he runs his hand across the sheet idly. “You know how I feel about it all.”

“I think I do,” Yoongi says. For some reason it sounds reluctant. “I just hope you know, too.”

Taehyung’s brow furrows, but then Jimin slips back into the room, moving quietly. He slides back onto the bed beside Taehyung, phone on speaker between them. Taehyung gives him a smile. Taehyung calls, “Talk later, okay?”

They part with another exchange. Jimin’s quiet til the call disconnects.

“I ended up calling delivery,” Jimin greets with a kiss pecked to Taehyung’s nose. “You figure everything out?”

“I think so,” Taehyung muses, and relates the bare bones of the situation to Jimin.

“Small world,” Jimin taps his chin. “Cute, though. Guess sometimes it works out like that, huh?”

“Mm. I’m glad. He deserves it,” Taehyung stretches, slinging an arm around Jimin. Jimin adjusts accordingly, slipping up to him with a smile.

“So do you,” Jimin says. Taehyung blinks. It’s similar to what Yoongi said, except when he turns to Jimin, there’s a wicked grin on his face, but even as Taehyung sees what’s coming in Jimin’s eyes he’s too late to react. Jimin twists and pounces on him, yanking his shirt up, and Taehyung yelps. He tries to twist away as Jimin tickles him, hands dancing along his sides. Taehyung gasps, grasping at Jimin’s hands with breathless pleas, “Jiminieee, no, please–”

“I taught you to beg better than that,” Jimin declares, then dips his head to blow a raspberry against Taehyung’s stomach. Taehyung squirms, cheeks aching from laughter and shoving weakly at Jimin until he relents, falling back to his side curled in Taehyung’s arm.

Both a little breathless, faces inches apart, for a second it’s almost like the world falls away. Taehyung watches Jimin’s eyes fall to his lips, and so close it’s like the draw of an undertow. In a magnet’s hold Taehyung leans in to meet the silence between them with a kiss–

Jimin sits up, running a hand over his hair. He looks almost dazed a second, then shakes himself. “Hey. Maybe we could—go eat, yeah?”

Taehyung blinks up at him, a little startled by the sudden pull back. Jimin‘s always free with affection between them, but for once looks nervous.

“Delivery’s here?”

“I mean, soon,” Jimin cocks his head. Taehyung reaches to find his hand. Jimin doesn’t take it away, and Taehyung plays with his fingers.

“You wanna do anything today?” Taehyung asks softly, gently prompting Jimin to talk. “We could go shopping. I feel like I haven’t hit a good range this month.”

Whatever nervousness took Jimin melts away as he rolls his eyes. It’s a topic he always laughs at. Taehyung grins up at him.

Truth be told, Taehyung more than hits above and beyond the amount in their original arrangement each month. After doing more research and realizing Jimin had undersold himself for Taehyung, he often deposits the agreed amount directly then buys Jimin more as he sees fit.

It isn’t just taking his sugar daddy role seriously, either. He genuinely enjoys spoiling Jimin, loves seeing his eyes light up and trying out whatever he’s bought him. Often it’s luxury items, but Taehyung’s branched out, too; among other things there’s their meals and tickets when they go out, a new phone, a spa membership and, of course, adult paraphernalia, both for themselves and Jimin’s general client use. One of the best had been a bondage harness which Taehyung had expected to wear, only for Jimin to pull it on himself and teasingly proceed to their session while Taehyung tried not to drool.

“Taehyung,” Jimin says, snapping him back to attention. He looks ready to address his hesitation, so Taehyung looks at him attentively. “I actually—well. Something arrived. Earlier. That I ordered.”

Taehyung blinks up at him, then fakes a groan. “Oh, god. How am I going to be tortured today?”

Jimin laughs, shoving playfully at his chest. “You–nevermind,” the laugh fades, smile melting as anxiety returns. “It’s, uh, actually a gift.”

Taehyung watches him a couple of seconds, finally sitting up. “A gift?”

“Yeah, I…” Jimin looks uncharacteristically lost. “I wanted to give you something. Ah, I’m sorry, I’m so—nervous. Embarrassed.”

“What? Don’t be,” Taehyung assures instantly, intrigued. “You got…me something?”

“I just…” Jimin sighs like it’s at himself, and Taehyung plays with his fingers again, trying to soothe the uncharacteristic nervousness. “How to say this… I know you say that you get stressed out. You’re really busy. And I know that this…” he waves his hand vaguely, “Isn’t just, y’know, kinky escapades. ...Well—”

The two of them laugh.

“Well, that’s part of it,” Jimin acquiesces before continuing. He takes a deep breath, Taehyung waiting patiently for him to find the words. “But I know it’s an escape, too. How you said it’s nice. To have support, with nothing complicated, only a couple strings attached. And I wanted you to know… I like it, too. I like helping you. You know you aren’t just a client, Tae, you’re my friend.”

Taehyung swallows. “Jimin…”

“And you told me, you know, how you feel safer, relaxed, when I’m taking care of you. That you can let go, that you don’t have to worry, and it made me think… so I got you something.” Jimin slips off the bed and out of the room, returning shortly. Lifting up a small black box, Jimin holds it out. “I saw and ordered it the other day we were out. It’s nothing big! Not at all. Just, you know, if you’re anxious or something, I thought maybe you could wear it. For a reminder, for a similar feeling, I don’t know.”

Jimin’s rambling, but he cuts off when Taehyung takes and lifts the lid of the box. Resting atop velvet is a necklace; almost a choker, really, silk with a single, small pendant. Taehyung curls his fingers underneath it, turning it gently. There’s something engraved on the backside, and Taehyung realizes he’s looking at a small, elegant JM.

Like Jimin’s there. Like Taehyung’s his— Taehyung looks up, stomach swooping. Jimin’s turned away, red.

“It’s not even really that nice,” he mutters, “and you don’t even have to wear it. Really, you don’t. I just know you’re getting busier, and I just thought, y’know, if you’re feeling overwhelmed, and we can’t schedule a session or talk, I figured, maybe—”

He’s rambling again. This time Taehyung cuts him off by standing and wordlessly tugging Jimin into a hug. Jimin stiffens a second before relaxing, arms coming up to circle around Taehyung and rub at his back.

“It’s nice,” Taehyung whispers, throat swelling. “Thank you, Jimin.”

“I figured it’s a little more discreet than wearing your collar out,” Jimin says softly, a gentle tease, but Taehyung hears the emotion behind it.

Taehyung laughs, nosing into his neck. “A little, yeah.”

Jimin squeezes his waist. “You’re welcome.”








The day of Jimin’s birthday, Taehyung thinks the kitchen smells amazing. Though, there’s no thanks to Taehyung himself.

“If you need any help…”

“Thanks, but I’ve seen the takeout containers in your trash, Tae,” Jimin says, patting Taehyung’s knee sympathetically. Taehyung pouts down at him from where he’s seated himself atop the countertop before they both laugh.

“It’s your birthday…” Taehyung sighs. “But I’m just sitting here.”

“Aw, baby. That’s more than enough,” Jimin promises. Delicately he picks up a bit of what he’s preparing and holds it up to Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung parts his lips happily, the self-declared official Taste Tester, licking at Jimin’s finger coyly.

Cooking’s never been a strong suit of his, and he rarely has time, anyway. Yet Jimin had seemed delighted when Taehyung suggested the idea, spending a sweetly domestic grocery trip (one that had, admittedly, mostly consisted of Jimin gathering ingredients for a recipe and Taehyung sneaking sweets into the cart.) The rest of the prep time goes much the same, Taehyung watching Jimin work fondly. Halfway through he picks up humming, and smiles when Taehyung recognizes the tune and jumps in to sing with his own deep voice. In between Jimin continues to slip Taehyung bites every so often, and eventually puts Taehyung in charge of setting the table for him.

When everything’s put away to cook Taehyung connects his phone to the bluetooth speakers. Jimin rolls his eyes when Sinatra drifts through the room, but holds out his arms indulgently. Taehyung slips into them with a smile, and once Jimin’s arms curl around his waist they’re dancing together, Jimin taking the lead.

“In other words,” Taehyung sings teasingly, “Baby, kiss me.”

“You’re such a sap,” Jimin says, but he’s got a stupid smile on his face, and his hand curls against Taehyung’s jaw as they kiss. Sighing into it, Jimin only pulls back to rest his head on Taehyung’s shoulder as they sway.

“Have I ever told you,” he murmurs to Taehyung, “How glad I am I was looking for a new sub that first night?”

“No, but…” Taehyung exhales, Jimin’s hair stirring lightly with it. “I feel the same. If I hadn’t explored that night… if you hadn’t messaged me…”

“God, how could I forget your blank ass profile. Going off about dogs, of all things,” Jimin chuckles. He rubs a hand up Taehyung’s back. “I thought for sure you were fake. But here we are. Baby.”

“On your birthday,” Taehyung says, pulling back. Jimin smiles, cocking his head with a new song, a slow classic that’s a little too sweet for the look in Jimin’s eyes.

“Mm,” he teases. “Are you my present?”

“Actually... wait,” Taehyung professes. Jimin raises an eyebrow, taking a half-step back, and Taehyung raises his hands defensively. “Well, I mean, yeah. Yes. But… I got you something else, too.”

Before Jimin can scold him–Taehyung knows he’s taken Jimin to another country, often spoils him far beyond his monthly allowance, but something in him had clicked when he’d seen the sweater. Taehyung gives Jimin’s shoulder a squeeze before rushing to the bedroom and digging to the bottom of his suitcase for the elegant, still-wrapped Gucci box and brings it back out to Jimin, biting his bottom lip to hold back a smile.

“There’s also a cake in the fridge for us,” Taehyung reminds shyly. That not-so-surprise had been apparent when Jimin had answered the door for the delivery before Taehyung could even get up. “But… I don’t know, you might not even like this. But I saw it, and I just, you know…”

He shrugs awkwardly as Jimin takes the box, gently tugging the ribbon off and sliding off the top. Taehyung’s watching Jimin closely, so he sees the exact moment his eyes widen as he lays them on the intricate cream sweater, double-G skull embroidered on the front.

“Tae…” Jimin sets the box aside to lift the sweater reverently, holding it up to himself. As if he needs to; Taehyung could list out his measurements from heart with ease now.

“I know it’s more my own taste than yours,” Taehyung blurts out quickly. “I don’t know. Like I said, I saw it, I just… I’m so thankful to you, for so much, and I love treating you, so I–”

He’s cut off when Jimin pulls him into a tight hug, arms almost crushing, face buried in Taehyung’s chest.

“Happy birthday, Jimin,” Taehyung says softly, “Thank you.”

Jimin shakes his head. There’s something in his eyes when he looks at Taehyung, warm and terribly soft.

“Tae, I–” Jimin hesitates, eyes widening imperceptibly, before looking down. He gives a small shake of his head, tugging Taehyung back for a kiss. “Thank you,” he says, rocking with him. “For everything. I’m so glad we met, Taehyung, I… thank you. You’re amazing.”

“It’s just what you deserve,” Taehyung mumbles back, “Thank you, Jimin.”

Jimin hums, sound small and gratitude. They hold for a while longer, then Jimin pulls back enough to tap under Taehyung’s chin. “Alright, let’s eat,” he says, then offers a grin. “I wanna get to playing with my present.”








The next day they board the train. Taehyung’s booked them a night in a ryokan a couple hours by rail, a relaxing end to the trip.

“Baby, look.”

Taehyung looks over to Jimin, then down to his phone in his lap, just in time to see Jimin’s opened his front camera before the shutter closes. They look up at each other at the same time, Jimin flashing him a smile.

“Documenting the journey,” Jimin says like it’s obvious. Tapping the screen for his photos, he pulls up the picture to show Taehyung.

It’s nice, even if not particularly dynamic. The two of them together, something Taehyung never gets to see. Both their faces are showing, and Taehyung knows he should want it deleted.

“It’s cute,” Taehyung murmurs. “Send it to me?”

“‘Course,” Jimin says, “Gonna cover your face before I post it anywhere, but you get the original.”

Taehyung watches Jimin send it off to him, then open it for editing. As Taehyung’s phone buzzes with the receipt Jimin strategically places emojis over Taehyung’s face. Taehyung snorts at his careful selection, a heart and the flyaway cash.

“Cute,” Taehyung says again, meaning it. Satisfied, Jimin smiles.

The rest of the ride passes uneventfully. For a while Taehyung sketches, Jimin murmuring compliments as they share headphones; Taehyung falls asleep at one point, head slipping down onto Jimin’s shoulder.

It’s Jimin who wakes him when they arrive, shaking Taehyung gently awake at their station. Stepping off the train reveals a quiet, green town; asleep, Taehyung had missed the transition from urban to rural, and the scenery is taken in for the first time. A mountainous backdrop, and little bits of life poking out every square foot that foliage could find root. Jimin’s hand finds his.

“It’s beautiful,” Jimin says softly. Taehyung squeezes his hand.

They don’t check in immediately. They’d packed light, so it’s easy enough to hold onto their bags and shop around. It’s a different kind than usual, too; there’s no glaringly bright and sleek design fronts, no runway-ready fits. Instead there’s the warm light of the steadily setting sun, wrapped candies and handmade souvenirs. Jimin holds a busily patterned shirt to his chest and spins once for Taehyung before checking out with it.

The ryokan Taehyung had booked is easy to find. Of course it’s on the farthest end of town from the station, but Taehyung finds he doesn’t mind the walk, at least not with Jimin. They trek beside the main street, stopping once in a convenience store to exit with an armful of junk food for ‘dinner,’ giggling to each other.

“I definitely need this,” Jimin says once they’re booked and settling into the room. He’s stretching, arm hooked over his head, shirt just slightly lifting. He rubs at his shoulder to emphasize, “The ride up was nice, but my back doesn’t quite agree.”

“Oops,” Taehyung offers, but doesn’t at all feel bad for falling asleep on Jimin’s shoulder and pinning him half the ride. Jimin seems to sense the insincerity, making a face but laughing good naturedly.

“It’s getting just late enough, yeah?” Jimin asks after peering outside. The room’s beautiful, one of the best the ryokan had to offer; one feature is the sliding glass door, out through which they can see their private bath and the last fading lights of sunset. Taehyung had plopped himself down on one of the futons, but lets himself be pulled back to standing when Jimin offers a hand out to him and leads him outside.

The air’s pleasant, just enough cool that the steam rising off the spring looks more than welcoming. There’s a high wood fence around the private spring and stone underfoot, the foliage around just beginning to golden into autumn colors. Jimin strips first, folding his clothes before rinsing himself and slipping in the bath. Taehyung’s slower to undress, glancing over his shoulder when he picks up the pail–

“You’re looking at me,” he accuses, pointing a finger at Jimin. Jimin gives him a slow, appreciative once-over with his eyes.

“I’m admiring my work,” Jimin says. Taehyung doesn’t even have to look down to know what Jimin’s referring to, but likes to do it anyway: even in the dim light the markings up and down Taehyung’s body are obvious. He’s gloriously roughed up, little trails from teeth and leather alike dotted everywhere across his skin. They’ve been taking advantage, since realizing the window of opportunity; Taehyung’s favorites are the bruises dotted on his hipbones and the pattern Jimin had marked across Taehyung’s shoulder with his mouth.

“Don’t look while I wash,” Taehyung orders childishly. Jimin raises a brow.

“Taehyung,” he says seriously, “We literally have sex.”

But petulantly Taehyung insists, “Turn around.” Jimin exaggerates rolling his eyes but twists back around with a fond smile. After rinsing himself Taehyung slides in beside him, and feels the effect instantly; the heat sinks deep, almost too much for a second before settling against his skin. A sigh slips out of him as he finds place next to Jimin.

They sit in silence for a while, but it’s peaceful, complete serenity of their surroundings and comfort with one another. Jimin lays his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, and when he speaks he lets his lips brush Taehyung’s skin.

“This is nice,” he murmurs. Taehyung hums in agreement, not quite drowsy but relaxed to contentment. The bath itself is under an awning, but the night sky’s visible just beyond its reach, darker black with brighter stars than can be seen below city lights. One’s particularly bright, and Taehyung’s hand finds Jimin’s underwater, fingers curling together naturally.

“We have to go back tomorrow,” Taehyung says softly. Jimin shushes him sweetly, lisp and lips pouted out.

“Don’t think about it,” Jimin says. “Just wanna enjoy this now. Here, with you.” His lips pressed to Taehyung’s shoulder are purposeful now, a quiet kiss. “This whole’s been such a dream. Being with you, in general. I’m so glad we met, Tae.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung asks, looking down at Jimin. His cheeks are naturally flushed a rose pink, smile crooked. Taehyung can’t help but return it, fond. “We’ve really come so far, huh?”

“Mhm. You intimidated me so much at first, you know.”

“What?” Taehyung’s eyes widen, and he laughs, “Are you kidding? I didn’t even know what I was doing!”

“But I taught you!” Jimin insists. “Even so, you’re you, Taehyung. Not just your career, you… I mean it when I say you’re more than a client. But before this… our first few sessions, our first couple outings. I didn’t know you, not like I do now. But I couldn’t believe it was real.”

Taehyung shakes his head. It’s hard to believe; if anything he’s the one who’d been so intimidated, who’d stumbled into the arrangement and been relieved he and Jimin clicked so well. “You were so confident.”

“Fake it ‘til you make it, right?” Jimin hums, then softens. “But really… ah, how do I say it. You’re amazing, Tae. S’not just our scenes, or the money, I just… I don’t have to act with you.” Jimin finishes quietly then shakes his head. “It’s never a job. You’re my… best friend. I’m so glad I met you.”

Taehyung’s throat swells painfully. Unsure how to reply, but Jimin’s always understanding, so while there’s something of a silence after that, it’s comfortable. Peace as they sit together, as Taehyung runs over everything in his mind, spurred on by Jimin’s admittance. It’s not even been a full year, yet looking back he can’t even imagine life now without Jimin.

Jimin’s not just a getaway–Taehyung’s not just Jimin’s income. He’s sure of it. Maybe to begin with, but thinking back on the slope of their relationship; how nervous he’d been their first few sessions, but Jimin had made him feel good as well as safe. Maybe a misunderstanding or two, but ones they’d always been able to solve. More than an outlet, he’s improved Taehyung’s life in general. He’d encouraged his hobbies, telling him to buy a camera and sketchbooks. He’d made their arrangement feel natural, as easy as slipping into water. He’d given Taehyung a friend, and the more Taehyung thinks about it the more he’s overwhelmed, with adoration and gratitude and something else he can’t quite put a name to, all feeding a sudden need to try and convey it to Jimin.

“I’m glad I met you, too,” Taehyung whispers. It’s on impulse, almost blurted out, wrought from hot water’s loose limbs and now loose lips. He’s never been the best at explaining what he means, but that’s another thing Jimin’s always been excellent at. He feels Jimin shift to look up at him, cheek still pressed against his wet shoulder, but Taehyung keeps his gaze fixed skyward. “Everything we do. Everything we–are. I didn’t realize I needed it until you found me.”

Jimin’s kiss to his skin is purposeful now, slow and soft. As encouraging as it is confirming, “Taehyung.”

“I mean it,” Taehyung closes his eyes, driven to emphasize it, for Jimin to understand what he means. Jimin squeezes his hand. “More than reaching out for–the play. I love my job, I do, but sometimes I just–” he takes a breath, Jimin’s thumb stroking along his hand grounding him. “I’m a social person,” he admits, resting his head atop Jimin’s. “And there’s connections everywhere, y’know, but not really. It’s been hard to get close to anyone, to know who to trust.”

“Connections without really connecting,” Jimin suggests quietly. Taehyung nods, Jimin’s hair soft against his cheek. “Taehyung, you’re amazing. Anyone’s lucky to be close to you, but not everyone deserves that.”

“You do,” Taehyung says, certain of it. “Being able to be open with someone. Trusting someone. Even when things got hard, overwhelming, or I just needed a break–no matter what. Encouraging me, making me feel like I had someone outside it all–it’s been you, Jimin.”

“Taehyung,” Jimin’s voice is thick. Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut tighter.

“Even before this, I always had friends,” Taehyung says. “But not a lot of people I opened up to, not really. I was fine with it, but then to have you...” Something odd in his chest, it’s tight to swallow. “I’m thankful, Jimin. For everything you’ve helped me with. For everything we are. I didn’t realize I was lonely before you made that go away.”

At that Jimin sits up, startling Taehyung. For a second Taehyung worries he’s offended him, but then Jimin’s tugging on Taehyung’s hand as he’s standing up, eyes wide. Confused Taehyung steps out with him, and then Jimin’s kissing him, lips wet and hand running up Taehyung’s side. He breaks it with a gasp, their foreheads pressed together.

“You’re good, Taehyung,” Jimin says, and something almost like guilt flashes across his face. Taehyung reaches for him instinctively, to be closer even than they already are, but it’s gone before he can be sure. “You know I’m glad I met you, too. God, baby–Taehyung. Can I–?”

Taehyung chases his words with a kiss, another and another. Unsure what’s come over them both so suddenly, dizzy from their stories, but it doesn’t matter because everything between them is pure warmth, needing no more words to be drunken on each other. Jimin noses into his neck as he wraps a towel around Taehyung, almost reverent in the way he dips it across and down the angles of their bodies, just dry enough. When he looks back to Taehyung’s eyes Taehyung stifles a gasp at the intensity of Jimin’s gaze, a gasp Jimin swallows with another open mouthed kiss before they drop the towel, tug each other back over the step and, still nude, fall into one another and onto the bedroll.

Jimin looks reverent when he sits up on Taehyung’s hips, hands sliding up Taehyung’s bared chest. He bends to kiss Taehyung again, the slide of their lips rapidly becoming hotter, more desperate. Taehyung’s moan is long when Jimin rolls his hips against him, slow and with purpose, cocks flush. Jimin reaches down between them to wrap a fist around him, sucking Taehyung’s tongue into his mouth before panting against his lip and rolling off.

Taehyung watches Jimin fumble in his bag, the both of them pliant and minds dizzy. He crawls back to Taehyung’s side, lubricant bottle in fist. Cock awakening against his stomach in anticipation, Taehyung begins to spread his legs, but Jimin shakes his head, catches Taehyung’s wrist and brings his hand to his mouth.

“Let me take care of you,” Jimin murmurs, pressing a kiss to the back of Taehyung’s hand. Taehyung’s breath catches, and he nods, letting Jimin pass the bottle to him. Shakily he squeezes it out over his fingers, Jimin hooking his leg back over Taehyung to settle onto his lap. He leans forward on his knees, kissing up Taehyung’s chest and dragging his groin up Taehyung’s belly with a shiver. Taehyung reaches around him, and Jimin arches for him, humming soft and mouthing at Taehyung’s neck as Taehyung’s fingers circle his rim before pressing in. Jimin takes two, three, with an easy slip, and mouths at Taehyung’s jaw before demanding,

“More,” the purr’s controlled, a command gasped against his skin. “Wetter. More, baby,” Jimin says as he takes Taehyung’s earring delicately between his teeth. Taehyung chokes something wordless, taking his fingers back to dribble more across to a drip. Jimin fucks back onto his fingers when Taehyung moves them back, pleasedly mumbling “so long,” into his neck.

“Want you,” Taehyung manages back, cock giving a jump when Jimin laughs soft enough to stir his hair before moving to bite his shoulder. “God, Jimin–I need you.”

That breaks Jimin, gripping Taehyung’s wrist with a breathed expletive under his voice. Taehyung’s hand drops to himself, but they realize at the same time, whatever spell’s fallen across them momentarily broken.

“Ah,” Jimin mumbles distractedly, sitting up. “The condom–"

Taehyung catches Jimin with a hand on his thigh. “It’s fine.”

Jimin blinks down at him. “Are you sure?”

“M’only ever with you,” Taehyung says. He hesitates. “You–with any other clients?”

Jimin shakes his head, biting his lip. “Only you,” he breathes as their chests press back together, lips melting into another long kiss. Jimin pulls off just barely, their noses still brushing. “You’re sure?”

“Please,” Taehyung sighs, wrapping a hand around himself. Jimin doesn’t know it, but the decision’s not in the heat of the moment–it’s something he’s thought about for a while, never known how to bring up. But it feels right, now.

Everything does.

“Let me take care of you,” Jimin says again as he sits back up to align himself. A steady exhale escapes him as he runs his hands behind him over the swell of his ass, then reaches to guide the tip. Jimin sinks down on Taehyung slowly, opens up warm and easy and wet, keeps their eyes locked together until he’s fully seated and still. Taehyung thinks he might be trembling a little.

“Lovely, baby–ah, feel you in me,” Jimin sighs out the praise, eyelashes fluttering. Taehyung’s hands find his hips, but are unable to stay in one spot, running reverently up his stomach and down his back in any pattern, taking all of Jimin in above him. When Jimin finally moves it’s a slow circle of his hips, a test of the waters that have Taehyung inhaling sharp and digging fingers into Jimin’s skin.

“You’re beautiful,” Taehyung finds himself mumbling before he can process it. And it’s the truth; Jimin’s sharp angles but smooth skin, lean muscle but soft cheeks. To hear it Jimin’s lips part in a breathless smile, and he rocks his hips the first time, a deliberate thrust forward and sitting back in almost a body roll, then repeating it again, again.

“You’re always so good to me,” Jimin tells him sweetly, eyes slipping shut. He’s found a rhythm, a slow tempo that’s so slowly, steadily increasing, knees just slightly shifting as he raises himself to ride. “Always so good for me.”

Taehyung grips at Jimin’s ass, spreading him. A moan’s dragged out of him involuntarily to imagine how it must look, how Jimin looks on him, swallowing him back with each thrust dragged out. How they look must together like this, a perfect fit. Taehyung can’t help but come back to Jimin’s stomach, running a hand across the definition of muscle and down.

“I meant everything I said,” Taehyung gasps. When his hands find Jimin’s hips once more, Jimin brings his own hands to meet them, cupping them over Taehyung’s as he rides him. “Meant— ah, meant it. I trust you—Jimin, I trust you. I trust you,” it becomes something to hold, not quite enough to encompass the magnitude of what he’s feeling, but spilling off his tongue to substitute as a mantra as something swells in his chest.

“I know. I know,” Jimin whispers. He drops forward to lean up on his elbows, cupping Taehyung’s face in his hands. There’s new fire when their lips meet, open, seeking anything from the other. And Taehyung feels it slip, knows without knowing the space between their souls has gone a little less when Jimin asks, “Come in me,” like a devotional against his lips, his back arching.

Groan slipping free, Taehyung grips for Jimin, fingers digging in. He braces his legs to thrust up, first unsteady, then finding a rhythm, one confirmed by his own pleasure and the way Jimin almost-hiccups, fingers curling against his jaw.

“Baby, baby. I trust you. My baby,” Jimin breathes between kisses, licks into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung knows he’s hit a good spot when Jimin moans and grinds down, and feels his own stomach tense. “Take what you need. Have all of me.”

There’s not many words after, just whispers kissed between their mouths like a devotional, stars behind Taehyung’s eyes. When they come, it’s together. Taehyung’s wrapped his hand around Jimin’s dick, pumping his hand in time with his strokes, and Jimin sits up just as it hits Taehyung, seating himself stuffed full once more. Jimin’s eyes slip shut as Taehyung’s fly open, and Jimin’s hand scrabbles for Taehyung’s, their fingers locking.

The orgasm’s a slow thing, a heady fire that swells through his stomach, and as Taehyung shudders, hips trembling at their height, he watches Jimin; watches Jimin tip his head back, exposing the angle of his jaw and hollow of his throat. He’s beautiful, face peaceful in ecstasy and all illuminated by moonlight, a soft silver that slants into the room and falls across them. Jimin comes slowly, rides it out with a twitch of his stomach, his lips spread in a beatific smile, and the song that's been building inside Taehyung’s chest all night—for longer, really, maybe even since the first time—breaks, finally spilling forward and through his heart with a shudder as Taehyung looks at Jimin, really looks at and finally sees him.

And in that moment, under the stars and on the tail of all they’ve shared with each other, erratic heart betraying him, Taehyung finally realizes:



he loves Jimin.

He loves Jimin, and he’d promised never to have him.






Dawn slips into the room glowing golden, coming whether wanted or not.

On the mat Taehyung lies flat, staring to the ceiling. He’s counted and recounted every part of it he could, has looked at everything for hours except Jimin beside him.

Jimin’s curled into him, head pressed into Taehyung’s heartbeat. It accelerates each time Taehyung thinks about it, thinks about them– something he’s spent all night doing. Gone over every meeting, over every second of last night, searching to find some reasoning to hold onto, something to justify fears, that he’s confused or overreacting or wrong. His search is in vain.

It’s even harder to deny with Jimin’s arm around his torso, sleep-swollen cheek just lightly pudged up in a pout where he’s got himself burrowed against Taehyung. His chest rises and falls in a soft rhythm that’s stayed sated and safe all night long, Taehyung stone still for fear of waking him.

He doesn’t want to be afraid. Not of Jimin, not of anything with him. The idea makes his vision blur–he doesn’t like feeling this scared, not when Jimin’s been his constant for months now, making him feel the safest. But it swells sick within him anyway again, wave after wave of shame for hours now each time he remembers and realizes: he loves Jimin.

Taehyung snaps to alertness out of his thoughts when Jimin shifts, and holds his breath. It’s no use, because Jimin slowly blinks his eyes open, a drowsy unfocus until he meets Taehyung’s own. He stretches, giving Taehyung a smile.

“Mm, morning,” Jimin mumbles through a yawn. He leans up to kiss Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung tries his best not to stiffen, but it’s involuntary with the kick to his heart. Jimin blinks at him a second, finding Taehyung’s hand across his stomach and squeezing. “Hey. How long have you been up?”

“Morning,” Taehyung manages back, swallowing. He lies, “Not too long.”

“You could’ve pushed me off,” Jimin teases, pushing back to sit up on his elbow over Taehyung. When Taehyung’s offered smile back is weak, he hesitates, concern showing in his eyes. Softly, he tries, “Hey. Did I… Are you okay?”

Guilt must show on Taehyung’s face, because Jimin looks confused, brow creasing just slightly. Shaking his head quickly, Taehyung manages, “M’fine, I just–I think I’m a little dehydrated.”

“Oh,” Jimin’s face relaxes, shame rocketing further through Taehyung. He kicks at the blanket. “Let’s clean up and get you taken care of, then.”

Jimin’s too kind for Taehyung, checking his forehead and insisting on washing Taehyung’s hair, on getting them both water. His frown, first so slight, grows more and more pronounced as time wears on, as he grows more awake and picks up on Taehyung’s hesitance, especially toward any affection. Small clues, ones that would fly under the radar for others, but they’ve become so damn attuned to each other Taehyung knows he’s like an open book to Jimin. Something he’s always adored, but it backfires now. And it’s a vicious cycle, because as Jimin grows more uneasy, Taehyung grows more ashamed, and the loop repeats.

“You’re really not feeling well,” Jimin says quietly as they pack. Startled, Taehyung nearly drops his bag, shaking his head. “Taehyung, is there–is there something I–?”

“It’s not you,” Taehyung says instantly. He cringes when he realizes how it sounds, but he can’t hear it–can’t hear Jimin blame himself, ask if, of all things, if it’s something Jimin did. No, it’s Taehyung’s runaway heart, all his fault, aching because after hours of running through it in his mind, hours (maybe months, even) of denial and disbelief. He won’t let Jimin feel bad or blame anything he’s done for that, and fixes, “I’m just tired.”

Jimin watches him a second, lips drawn, then nods. “Want me to finish packing for you?”

“It’s fine,” Taehyung shakes his head, heart twinging. “Don’t worry about it.”

“If you’re sure,” Jimin says reluctantly, setting down the shirt he’d folded to come to Taehyung. He reaches to rub at Taehyung’s shoulder with a sigh. “Keep drinking water. I hate that you’re not feeling good, baby. I know this isn’t how you wanted our vacation to end. I’m sorry.”

Swallowing back, eyes squeezing shut, Taehyung manages, “So am I.”








Jimin doesn’t press on the train ride back, and Taehyung’s not sure how to feel about it. How to feel, how to act, how to deal with the fear swallowing him whole; maybe a push from Jimin is what it would take, but right now he’s paralyzed. Jimin doesn’t even question when Taehyung doesn’t take his hand back, just rests his atop and strokes at Taehyung’s thumb with his own as he stares out the window. After returning the apartment keys the drive to the airport is a silent one, too, both of them feeling the melancholy cloud of a vacation’s end, though Taehyung’s newfound heart weighs even heavier.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Jimin asks softly before boarding at the airport. They’re going back on separate flights, and now that Taehyung’s noticing everything he realizes they’re even sitting farther apart than usual. Jimin always so respectful of him, and concerned, Taehyung so overwhelmed he’s got to close his eyes a second.

“I’ll be fine,” Taehyung manages in a lighthearted tone, “I fly a lot more than you do, remember?”

Jimin gives him a smile, reaching to pat at his thigh when his gate’s called. Taehyung stands. “Take care of yourself for me, okay?” Jimin says. “Keep drinking lots of water. I’ll see you back home.”

That’s what has him slipping–the promise of seeing him again, Taehyung’s uncertainty he’ll be able to. A memory flashes to mind, of Jimin confiding in him, trusting him, about the client who’d used him, clung to the relationship even after knowing he’d fallen. The client who’d hurt Jimin, and the fear now that Taehyung’s no better–it makes Taehyung hesitate a beat when Jimin holds his arms out for a hug. He fixes it immediately, returning it, but Jimin catches the reluctance anyway, and in slow motion Taehyung sees hurt flash in his eyes. It stays even after they embrace and part.

No, in Taehyung’s mind, there’s no doubt about it. He’s hurting him just the same, and maybe even worse.

Taehyung watches the plane wheel out, race down the strip and then peak up into the sky. When it’s gone from sight he slips out his phone, opens his chat with Jimin and types with shaking hands:

we need to talk

It’s a cold day down by the water, sky stretched grey as far as the eye can see. Jimin’s bundled against the autumn when he shows, walking to Taehyung. Looking beautiful even in a shapeless puffed coat and cozy beanie, cheeks pink and lips bitten red from the wind, his wide eyes setting off an ache in Taehyung’s heart.

“Hey,” Jimin greets gently, voice almost stolen away by the sea breeze. Taehyung manages a stiff smile.

“Thanks for meeting me, Jiminie,” Taehyung says softly. Hands in his pockets he glances around; it’s not weather he’d planned for, but fits, he thinks, with what’s weighing on his heart.

Jimin fiddles with his gloves, eyes turned down. “Yeah,” he says finally. “Tae, there’s actually—something I need to talk to you about, too.”

“Oh,” Taehyung blinks, “Okay, well—” He draws a breath, summoning his courage. He thinks of Jimin, primarily, of keeping the promise he’d made, of letting him go. And it hurts, so badly; still he braces himself, opening his mouth, and sees Jimin’s lips move at the same time as his.



“I think we should end our arrangement.”

Chapter Text







“I think we should end our arrangement.”

As both their mouths close, silence falls.

Taehyung starts, looking across at Jimin. Jimin looks equally stunned, and in the pause that follows, a pit opens wide in Taehyung’s stomach, a dizzying dread and fear threatening to swallow him up as he realizes:

He knows.

Jimin breaks the silence before he can process the panic. He looks confused, a shadow crossing his face, the only thing he manages: “What?”

Taehyung remains frozen, watching an internal struggle play out on Jimin’s face. He looks lost, shaking his head slightly before refocusing. He asks again, more hesitantly. “Taehyung?”

“I—” is all he manages before biting down on his lip hard, scanning Jimin’s face. The fear’s choking him silent, swollen and thick in his throat because he knows. Jimin must have realized, not that Taehyung has tried especially hard to hide it—Jimin had looked at him so tenderly when they’d parted, but so fearfully when they’d met again. And god, Taehyung must have looked at Jimin with stars in his eyes, only to flinch away from any contact.

Panic runs so hot in his veins and burns in his cheeks that in the moment that falls between them, Taehyung hates himself for falling in love.

“I’ve realized—some things,” Taehyung tries, carefully, almost croaking the words. “Some stuff. That I need to sort out, Jimin,” and god, it’s all wrong because this is his chance and Jimin deserves honesty. That he’s broken their contract, and breaks it off for Jimin’s sake.

But the fear surges in him again, and all the things he doesn’t want to say come out in a cowardly flood.

“I’m going to be filming soon,” Taehyung continues. It sounds hollow even to him. Jimin just stares, eyes wide, and Taehyung shifts in his feet, summoning up every bit of strength not to look away. “So I’m going to be really busy. And more in the public eye, I just—don’t have time for our meetings right now.”

If Taehyung had thought the silence before was awful, the one that falls now is hideous. Jimin blinks once, slowly, then again, lips just parted. Taehyung almost imagines the wind picks up, biting at his cheeks and hard against his ears.

“Oh,” Jimin says. It’s all he says, almost whipped away by the wind. He releases Taehyung’s gaze to glance down, then just past him. “Oh,” he says again, the one word sounding more complete than all of Taehyung’s rambling.

“Yeah,” Taehyung says lamely, beating back something painful in his chest. His blinking is almost comically rapid. “I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” Jimin says. Taehyung manages to look into his eyes, but Jimin doesn’t return the gaze. His face is unreadable, taking a second before looking back to Taehyung. “Okay. No arrangement. But we—we’re still friends, right?”

Taehyung sucks in a breath. He hadn’t even considered. The idea of continuing to see Jimin, of spending time and laughing with him and never, never being satisfied, always wishing for more, selfish and lying even more than he is now—it rips like a knife through Taehyung’s chest. He knows instantly there’s no way. It’s not fair to Jimin, and it’d be impossible for himself.

He realizes lying was a mistake, even as he realizes there’s no choice but to continue.

“Of course, yeah, I’ll just—be really busy,” Taehyung emphasizes. It’s both a mistake and the right thing to do at once, because it sounds to anyone like an excuse. Jimin’s eyes widen at the implication of it, and Taehyung forces himself not to blink, fearful of the sudden, hot wetness at the corner of his eyes leaking.

“Oh,” Jimin says again, more softly. He nods, like it makes sense. “That’s… okay. I understand, Tae… Taehyung.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung forces himself to say. Shrugging his coat tighter, he rasps, “I’m—sorry. I mean, but you—you said, too—?”

He’d almost forgotten, so panicked. Because Jimin had spoken at the same time as him, hadn’t he? Certainly only to reject him, to tell Taehyung off before he hurt Jimin even worse. When Jimin looks back at him Taehyung holds his breath til his vision spins.

“It doesn’t matter,” Jimin says. Taehyung looks closer, and seeing the motion, Jimin gives back a weak smile. “Really. I figured, with schedules. I need to sort some stuff out, too. So we—we don’t need to think about it anymore.”

The smile wobbles, and Taehyung realizes he’s never seen Jimin cry.

He hides it well, but his body betrays him. Eyes lined wet to spill, lip trembling. It falls across him slowly, and it might be missed if Taehyung didn’t know him so intimately.

That he never wanted to hurt Jimin hits him hard enough to steal breath, and now—he is. The realization tears through him, and he can’t help but step forward and reach out.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung blurts out, moving to him, desperate. Fighting back his own eyes from tearing up he says, “Jimin, I—god, I’m sorry. Listen to me.” Taehyung wants to reach for his face to hold his gaze, and he almost does, but it’s like with his hasty, awful, awful, awful heart and decision, all their intimacy’s been ripped away. Desperately, Taehyung tries, “Please.”

Jimin finally meets his eyes, less than an arm’s length away. It’s not close enough, and Taehyung tries to fight the lump in his throat when he wonders if they’ll ever be this close again.

“I will be busy. Jiminie, that’s not a lie, but… it’s more than that. I don’t want you to think this is you,” Taehyung shakes his head fiercely. “Really, I… I have to think about some things right now, too. About myself. This is my fault. This is me,” Jimin’s silent, so he tries, “Please, don’t think—it’s not you. It’s not.”

“That’s not why I’m scared,” Jimin says, so softly Taehyung always misses it. He takes Taehyung’s offered hand, and not for the first time Taehyung looks to the difference in theirs, how Jimin’s whole hand curls in his.

“Jimin,” Taehyung pleads. Maybe if he were better, he’d be able to tell Jimin the truth—as he stands right now, he’s never been more afraid in his life.

“We’re friends, right?” Jimin insists. “So don’t be a stranger,” his hand squeezes Taehyung’s tightly, almost in fear. “Please. It’s fine, calling off our arrangement. Really, it is. Just—call me if you need anything, okay?”

“Of course,” Taehyung lies. He opens his arms, and Jimin fits perfectly. Maybe the embrace lasts too long, but with the ocean as their only witness, Taehyung can’t even fathom caring.

“If I could,” Jimin whispers, voice small against his shoulder. “One more time—”

As Taehyung leans down to kiss Jimin, he takes in everything—wills himself to absorb every second, to stretch each out into a lifetime, to brand into his memory as the last time.

The way the breeze stirs his hair, turns his fingers and tip of his nose just-cold; the way Jimin so slightly leans up on his toes as Taehyung dips his head for them to meet in the middle. The way his fingers cup Jimin’s jaw for the last time, the way their lips press perfectly from a thousand times’ experience. Jimin’s cheeks are a light pink and a little cold, but his mouth is warm, and the contact between them tender. Taehyung takes every second of it in, every part of Jimin in, prays to any god listening he’ll at least have this moment before they part, and the memory long after. A second to hold, to suspend in glass and treasure for all time, as they kiss, as Taehyung’s heart breaks.

Neither of them see the camera flash.








Even off camera and in a fluorescent-sick lit office, Jeon Jeongguk looks just as handsome as he does onscreen. He greets Taehyung with a refreshingly genuine cheeriness, a tight handshake and quick bow.

“I’m really excited to work with you,” he professes, even before they sit down for the readings. Taehyung hasn’t smiled once in the week since he and Jimin—he hasn’t even been able to think about it, but somehow he manages a smile for Jeongguk,.

“Looks like I’m going to be the rookie here,” Taehyung jokes as they settle down into office chairs. Jeongguk laughs. “I haven’t acted. I mean, not professionally.”

“You’re used to cameras,” Jeongguk reassures. “You’ll be fine.”

Truth be told, Taehyung’s glad to work with Jeongguk, too; he’s a bit of a rising star and industry sweetheart, and from what Taehyung’s heard, has a good reputation on set.

“We’re just doing a read-through today,” Jeongguk says, eyeing the packets in the center of the table. “So don’t worry too much about getting it perfect. We’re just seeing how the script reads aloud.”

The rumors are true, at least so far. Jeongguk’s easygoing and easier to get along with, and he reassures Taehyung a bit more as to sets he’s worked on before as other actors file in.

Taehyung hadn’t been too shy to begin with, but everyone’s nice enough, and welcomes him to the world of film kindly enough that it’s easy to open up. The read itself is more fun than he’d thought; for his first few lines he’s shy, but quickly gets more and more into it as they all fall into a flow, fully acting to bring the script of the pilot to life even just sitting around a table.

At the end of it Taehyung’s feeling the best he has in a while, recharged and pleasantly bidding goodbye to his new coworkers. When he finally pulls out his phone to punch some numbers in is when he sees his missed calls and texts, smile fading.


Jeongguk’s came up for parting words, but stops short to see Taehyung’s expression. He asks, “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I think, I just…” Taehyung trails off, brow furrowing. If he’s reading the gist of the notifications correctly, there’s a few headlines with his name cropping up. Which isn’t alarming, so Taehyung doesn’t really understand until he pulls up one and sees the image, the floor feeling to drop out below him.








“Nothing’s been authenticated.”

Taehyung’s lost count how many times Yoongi’s said that. He keeps repeating it, maybe to reassure himself, most likely because Taehyung hasn’t responded.

Lying sideways on the couch, curled into himself, Taehyung picks his phone up to look at the pictures again. They’re from a distance, yeah, and the two of them so bundled up it’s impossible to confirm the other person, but—Taehyung was there.

He knows it’s a picture of he and Jimin’s last kiss.

“It doesn’t matter,” Taehyung whispers finally. Yoongi starts, glancing to him. Taehyung understands. It’s the first thing he’s said since getting home in a daze. He repeats, “It doesn’t matter.”

Yoongi thinks a second, and sits down at the edge of the sofa. “Okay,” he says, exhaling. “Okay. You don’t want to say anything?”

“I don’t have to,” Taehyung says. It sounds a little petulant, a little pouted, but he insists it. “I don’t care about the pictures circulating,” he shrugs, “And I don’t even care if people look at the figures and speculate if it’s—if it’s a guy,” he chokes a little, not on the concept, but on how he’d almost said Jimin’s name for the first time since that day. Taehyung reinforces stubbornly, “I don’t have to explain anything. But I won’t deny anything either. It shouldn’t matter.”

“It shouldn’t,” Yoongi agrees, but Taehyung can hear the reluctance behind it, that he agrees in principle only. They both know it likely will, that a rumor mill will tear it to pieces if even one person suggests it.

“Even if it does matter,” Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut. “I’ve got the role. And—and fashion is forward thinking.”

Taehyung senses then feels Yoongi’s hand hovering uncertainly before settling on his shoulder. “And if it’s not?”

Taehyung blinks open his eyes. Miserably, he says, “Then I’ll move to France and change my name to Theobald.”

Very gently, Yoongi says, “Your French is shit.”

“So is my life, currently,” Taehyung mutters. Yoongi’s face falls, and Taehyung frowns unhappily. “I’m sorry. I don’t—I don’t mean that, not really. I’m just—” he tugs his knees closer, and whispers, “I’m really sad, Yoongi.”

“I know,” Yoongi says. He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, tugging it into his lap.

“M’not even sad about—all this other stuff. It’s just noise compared to—” Taehyung swallows. “I miss him. I miss Jimin.”

“If he hurt you…” Yoongi warns, as he had earlier this week. Taehyung shakes his head so hard his vision spins.

“It was me,” Taehyung says. He clenches his hand tightly enough for his nails to bite flesh. “Yoongi... I’m the one who hurt him.”

Yoongi’s quiet at that. He strokes Taehyung’s back, like soothing a child. It doesn’t make Taehyung feel better, but it’s enough.

“I’m sorry,” Yoongi says. “I know you… really liked him.”

Taehyung turns his face into the fabric, chest bleeding once more. “It wasn’t just—you know. The arrangement.” He laughs, the sound strangled. “God, the best sex of my life. No, it was… he was, the closest I’ve ever been to someone. Anyone.” Taehyung laughs again, brokenly. “Why’d I have to go and fall in love?”

“You have a big heart,” Yoongi says, and finds Taehyung’s hand to squeeze it. “That’s not a weakness, Taehyung.”

“You can say I told you so any time, you know.”

“Taehyung, I would never,” Yoongi shakes his head, brow furrowing. “I’m just so sorry you’re hurting. I want to help… I just don’t know how. Tell me how.”

“I don’t know how, either,” Taehyung sucks in a shaking breath, trying in vain to calm himself. The tears he’s been fighting sting hot at the corner of his eyes as he lets it hit him again—he’d cried the first night, when he’d gotten home from the beach. He’d locked himself in and let it out, sobbed until his head pounded and there were no tears left in his exhausted frame, and swore there would be no more. Now he feels what he’s tried to bury leaking back out. “I wish I could go back. To how it was before. But even then, I think—Yoongi, I don’t know how I ever looked at him and thought I wouldn’t fall in love.”

That finally breaks the dam. Yoongi holds him through it, and god, does it hurt. To think of everything he’d had, they’d had, stings. Taehyung doesn’t know if that ache will ever fully subside, but even as he tries to recover, to realize all over that he’ll never have that again is like a physical pain.

“I can’t even remember what it was like,” Taehyung tries, even as Yoongi pulls him into a hug. “I thought that I needed him so much I could stop it. But my s-stupid heart didn’t give a fuck. And now I—I’ve probably made him think—I tried to make it easier for the both of us, but god, Yoongi, the look on his face—”

“You’ll get through this,” Yoongi soothes. There’s a back note to his voice that sounds broken, but masked well enough. “I know it hurts. But it doesn’t last forever.”

“How did—when you liked Seokjin, the first time,” Taehyung says, and feels Yoongi stiffen. “When he left. How did you…?”

For a second Taehyung wonders if he’s pressed too far. Hesitantly, Yoongi answers, “Taehyung, I didn’t… love him.”

“But you missed him, right?” Taehyung sniffles. Yoongi looks thoughtful a minute before answering.

“I worked,” he says simply. “I threw myself into it. Didn’t really come out for a while.”

“Then you met Hobi.”

“Then I met Hobi,” Yoongi says. He manages a smile. “And I met you.”

Taehyung slows his breathing, letting the ebbing tears stop.

“Okay,” he says, and forces himself to sit up. Wiping at his eyes, Yoongi gives him a worried, but genuine, smile. “Then I’ll—I’ll make friends. I’ll work.”

“I think that’s good,” Yoongi says, drawing him into another hug. “And you know I’m here for you.”

Taehyung’s sigh shudders, and he nods. After a while, the fear that’s been nagging the back of his mind manifests in a whisper into Yoongi’s shoulder.

“But I don’t think I can forget,” Taehyung breathes. “Him, or how I feel. I don’t think I can forget.”

Yoongi rubs his back slowly. Taehyung leans into the touch.

“Do you want to?”

Taehyung thinks, eyes closed. Even to hurt so much now—loving Jimin, being so close to him, has been some of the brightest, best moments of his life. It hurts to recall them, but it hurts even more to think about the memories becoming meaningless.

So finally, he says, “No.”

“I don’t think anyone wants that,” Yoongi mumbles into Taehyung’s hair. “To forget, not really. Not how someone made us feel.” Taehyung nods. “We just want it to stop hurting.”

“I’m scared,” Taehyung whispers. “Whenever I try to make the pain stop—I’m scared I’ll forget him.”

“Oh, Taehyung,” Yoongi says, quietly, almost sadly. “No one ever really forgets their first love.”








“You know that I—” Taehyung starts, breaking away with a hitch in his voice. He licks his lips, words coming heartbroken as he says, “I still love you.”

Desperately, eyes wide, his hands coming up and reaching out as if to grab—but ultimately falling, helplessly, as the actress gasps, and recoils from him.

“And cut,” the director’s voice sounds.

Filming doesn’t begin immediately, but when it does, it goes relatively well. There are whispers, of course; but Taehyung’s made it clear he’s going the route of silence, and surprisingly enough, the dating rumor goes over as decently as it could with the public. It makes him mysterious, according to one topic show host, the runway-recluse image he’s always been given proving its worth for once.

To himself, Taehyung will admit he doesn’t feel so good. That’s an understatement. He’s cried a lot, the first month especially. There’s so much of Jimin in his space, to begin with; gifts between them, a spare toothbrush to throw out. And it’s humiliating to think about, but it’s hard to even get off, for a long time. He doesn’t feel anything, and all he wants is something he can’t have.

But he’d promised to throw himself into work. So he smiles through the day, and ignores the speculation even as it rises, as people guess at who the bundled, blurry figure might be. One article he sees runs a list of models with short dark hair he’s walked with, comparing heights and taking guesses. It’d make Taehyung laugh if that picture didn’t hurt so badly to look at.

As for his castmates, he worried, at first, but he’s never really had a problem connecting with people. They’re a good bunch, gotten closer over filming, and only pressed for the identity of his mysterious lover when the first initial headlines had broken. Taehyung had simply forced a teasing smile on his face and changed the topic.

He thinks Jeongguk might know.

They’ve become good friends, and hang out outside filming often enough. He reassured Taehyung, in the beginning, even when they weren’t as close. That rumors spread but wither, that gossip rises and falls. Once he’d been vilified by a magazine for falling asleep at his table during a premiere. Shit happens, he’d laughed as Taehyung gaped at that, had to look it up to believe it.

But he thinks Jeongguk might know. Once or twice there’s been times—when he’s looked at Taehyung, almost on the verge of saying something. Not an accusation, but too knowing of a gaze to ignore. Taehyung tries his best to do so anyway.

On set now, Taehyung’s not feeling so well. The farther along filming goes, the closer they are to the first of the promotions set to begin—there’s going to be interviews, and viewings, and unavoidable questions. Seeing the tagline on some of the first poster designs stings the most—in some cruel twist of fate, it’s like Yoongi’s words found their way onto media rollouts just to haunt him. He’s looking at one such design now, passed among the cast members to take a look at. He and Jeongguk stand on opposite sides, each looking away from the star actress in the center. It’s the poster featuring the love triangle, and in bold letters is written the unmissable tagline.

no one forgets their first love.

It’s like a slap in the face to say it, even worse during interviews and promotions. Taehyung spends more time practicing neutral body language than he does the scripts themselves, delivering pre-approved quips and struggling not to clench his fists when any speculation is brought up.

“You know, this article has been making the rounds this week,” one host says teasingly. An image flashes onscreen, a tabloid shot of a press conference when he’d been looking too-intent while listening. In the corner is the fuzzy distance shot of he and Jimin kissing, and in exaggerated, bold lettering: WHAT IS TAEHYUNG HIDING? EXCLUSIVE EXPOSE INSIDE!

Taehyung’s read it. It’s entirely fabricated, but it makes bile rise in his throat regardless. Swallowing back, he forces himself to relax, leaning forward in his seat.

“I mean,” Taehyung starts innocently. “For a publication with Gossip in its name…”

There’s well-timed laughter all around. Beside him Jeongguk snorts, playing along. Taehyung shakes his head.

“I’m afraid to disappoint, but I am—as I’ve maintained!—single,” Taehyung says firmly, turning to the camera to raise an eyebrow and wink exaggeratedly. The host laughs and claps.

“I think that’s the opposite of disappointing for most of your fans, Taehyung,” the studio audience cheers. “But that’s not the issue for your characters, eh? Give your fans a little bit of a primer for what they can expect this spring...”








“I swear, there was a Givenchy right here,” Taehyung emphasizes, feeling petulant. This is his corner of Gangnam, even if it’s been a while, and by god does know his LVMH holdings, even if it’s with distaste.

A few steps behind him, Hoseok taps at his phone determinedly, GPS pulled up. A much less enthusiastic Yoongi groans.

“I mean, there’s the flagship store, and another… somewhere,” Hoseok muses, unconvinced. “But we’ve circled this block twice. The map doesn’t lie.”

“We are literally surrounded by stores that would make anyone else’s wallet panic,” Yoongi cocks an eyebrow when Taehyung turns around. “Any of these will do.”

“You know Jin wants this watch,” Taehyung accuses. “And your wallet is only filled from my blood, sweat and tears. As our label’s top model I have a say.”

“Maybe if we go this way—” Hoseok mutters to himself, turning the phone upside down. “Taehyung, we love you, but it’s not looking good for your memory, here.”

“Why is this happening,” Yoongi pretends to wonder, bleakly said aloud to no one in particular. Taehyung doesn’t answer, because Hoseok’s words have reminded him why exactly he’s so certain he’s shopped here before.

The cold’s finally come to stay, winter settling in over Seoul’s skyline and its reminder in the breath that hangs in the air between them. At least the weather’s clear today, though they’re still comically bundled. Taehyung can’t blame Yoongi for wanting to go inside, already, but the thing is, he remembers this area.

At least he thought he did. When the weather had been warmer he and Jimin had haunted here often, flitting from store to store and teasing one another ‘til Taehyung’s cheeks had hurt from smiling. The wound’s still raw, and Taehyung doesn’t like remembering, but that still doesn’t mean he wanted to forget. So he stills a second, an ache within him, glancing down the street—at the backlit storefronts, at the planted trees now bare.

There’d been a coat Taehyung had bought here, a gorgeous blue cashmere that fit trim on the waist of someone he loved. He’d been certain it was Givenchy, and it had been here, because afterwards they’d sat on a nearby park bench and talked about nothing in particular for hours. Those are the best kinds of conversations, and letting his eyes drift across the crowd, a similar shade catches Taehyung’s eye, a flash amongst the mob. It’s like being struck by lightning and launched into a dream all at once, when despite all the odds and through a crowd of some hundred-heavy, their eyes meet.

“Burberry,” Taehyung says.

Hoseok doesn’t look up, but frowns at his phone. “We passed that. Jin wants Givenchy, remember?”

“Taehyung?” Yoongi looks closer, and Hoseok looks up, too, double taking to see the dazed look on Taehyung’s face.

“The coat,” Taehyung manages, voice trailing off oddly. “It was Burberry,” he says, and without thinking, steps forward into the crowd.

It feels prophesied, should be Biblical in scale. But there’s no sea parted here, and Taehyung nearly stumbles, has to mumble apologies as he makes his way through a hundred lives on their own routes. But he never lets his eyes stray, not once, because something stronger than he is pulls him closer, moth to flame.

He would know Park Jimin anywhere. But it’s not until they’re face to face that he realizes Jimin isn’t alone.

The boots he’s wearing have a bit of a heel, but even without it Taehyung can see he’s tall, about a head above Jimin and an inch on Taehyung himself. He looks startled even behind the sunglasses he’s wearing, which Taehyung absently registers as odd—of course, Taehyung’s got a pair on, himself, but has a billboard-ready face and a lot of reason to. Taehyung’s quick look-over lasts only a second, though, before he’s drawn back to Jimin, whose eyes are wide, haven’t moved off Taehyung once.

Taehyung swallows. “Hey,” he manages, and it hits him, then, how stupid he is. He should have pretended not to see Jimin, but—so impulsively he’d let himself be drawn in. The second their eyes had met, he couldn’t have turned away from Jimin—Jimin, who he hasn’t seen or talked to once since that day.

Before him now, Jimin’s face is hard to read. Taehyung’s frozen, his greeting dead on his tongue, until Jimin half-turns, eyes still fixed on Taehyung.

“Joonie,” he says, and god, Taehyung missed his voice, even saying someone else’s name. “I’ll meet you at the restaurant, okay? He’s a—” Taehyung can almost see the word friend die on his lips, as Jimin swallows. “I know him.”

The man glances between them for a few seconds, almost looking reluctant, but then nods. Without saying anything he leaves with a parting touch to Jimin’s shoulder, that looks almost like a reminder, or warning of some kind. Left alone and with no plan, facing a confrontation that should never have happened, Taehyung’s stomach churns.

“Sorry if... you’re with a client?” Taehyung manages awkwardly, shifting his weight. “I don’t wanna disrupt.”

“What?” Jimin tilts his head, then clarity hits. “Oh. No. He’s not a—well, he was a client of mine. Used to be, anyway.” Jimin blinks slowly. “We stayed friends.”

This was a mistake. Taehyung feels his face burn, looking away, cursing any power in the universe that could’ve possibly placed them in proximity today.

Jimin seems regret the harsh tone, tilting his head into Taehyung’s point of view. “Hey,” he says quietly. “How have you been?”

Taehyung shrugs. To him, and anyone close to him, the answer is obvious. For those looking from the outside, it might be more difficult, but Jimin’s always had that sort of sixth sense when it came to Taehyung.

It’s just another thing he’d loved and lost.

“I’m doing okay,” Taehyung tries. “Still, you know. Busy.”

Jimin nods, dropping his voice softer, even though no one’s paying attention in the bustle of the scene. “Filming going okay?”

“It’s a little weird missing the winter season,” Taehyung admits. “But, yeah, it’s fine, just—how are you?”

It’s a genuine question. Jimin’s instagram went private a couple weeks ago. He doesn’t follow Taehyung anymore.

“I’m doing fine,” Jimin says. “Taking a bit of a break from business, but—” he hesitates. The reassurance sounds hollow. “Fine.”

“Taking a break?” Taehyung frowns, heart sinking. “Is it—is that because—”

“Just not feeling it right now. I take breaks sometimes,” Jimin cuts across quickly. He hesitates, then, looking like he’s weighing his next statement. Taehyung gives him the second as Jimin glances around, then leans a little closer.

“Have you really been okay?” Jimin asks. Taehyung has to look away for a second, vision blurring at the genuine concern in his eyes. Even after everything Taehyung’s done. “The… picture. I’ve seen a lot of stuff about…”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung manages quickly. Jimin looks unconvinced, so Taehyung swallows and presses, “I’m fine. No harm done.”

Something flashes in Jimin’s eyes. “Right,” he says. The two of them stand awkwardly. “Listen, I… should get going. I’m picking Joon out a new suit.”

“Oh. Okay,” Taehyung says lamely, loss cutting at him. He shouldn’t be talking to Jimin at all, not after his vow to distance from him; but now that he has he’s hurt at time cut too short, and with the desperation that rises in him a result, he blurts out— “Jimin, I’m sorry.”

Jimin pauses mid-turn away, brow furrowing.

“That we haven’t talked,” Taehyung says, softer now that he has his attention. “I miss you. I do.”

Jimin seems to almost flinch back at the words for a second, then lets them sink in. Pursing his lips, he then clarifies, “You said you needed time to think, right?” Taehyung hesitates, then nods. “That’s okay. I’m giving it to you.”

Taehyung’s not sure he’s ever felt so simultaneously relieved and guilty.

“I’ve been thinking, too,” Jimin continues, words trailing off, almost talking to himself. “So it’s okay. If I was wrong.”

“What?” Taehyung asks, distracted.

Jimin shakes his head, coming to. “Don’t worry about it,” he refocuses. “Take care of yourself, okay? And if you need anything, remember we’re—well, you have my number.” He musters a smile, one Taehyung tries his best to return. “Bye, Taehyung.”









That night, Taehyung’s fingers shake, hovering over the delete button. Summoning his courage he closes his eyes and presses down, and when he reopens them, the last of he and Jimin’s conversations are gone.

He’d tried to be better. He had— had gone out with friends, has been throwing himself into work. And things are only worse, Taehyung realizes, vision starting to blur, heart beginning to pound again, minutes slipping by as he realizes he’d been wrong.


“It hurts,” Taehyung whispers into the receiver. He’s curled into himself on the sofa, hands shaking from where he’d typed the call without thinking, tears slipping into his hair. “I miss him. I miss him so much.”

“Taehyung, where are you? Are you home?” Yoongi’s voice sounds urgent, concerned. “I’m coming over.”

“It’s not getting better,” Taehyung sobs. “It hurts, Yoongi, I miss him, and I—regret it,” he manages, being honest to himself for the first time in so long. “I miss Jimin, and I regret it.”








In the beginning, there’d been a fair sized crowd outside the studio, seeking commentary from Taehyung or anyone closest to him. Leeches, Taehyung had thought bitterly, because in all the world, wasn’t there more to report on than a blurry picture he’s never publicly acknowledged?

Over time and with more pushback from the studio, the crowd’s dispersed. Now it’s an easy walk to the private entrance, Taehyung tugging anxiously at his lapels and hoping the concealer's got the bags under his eyes smoothed out. Because the sleepless nights are coming back steady, slumber traded for the ache of remembering how— understanding Jimin had looked, offering Taehyung a bridge back. Even though by all accounts, he should be burning them after everything Taehyung’s done to break them apart; what Taehyung’s done to make it easier, as if anything could.

Today, however, there’s one or two stragglers, being kept back by security. It’s with the upcoming promotions, Taehyung knows, but the sight still puts him on edge, likely will for a while. He keeps his head down walking into the building.

He’s meeting with the producer today, for the first time. Jeongguk had reassured him not to stress, that the two of them were on great terms and it was just to go over technicalities. Still, he can’t help but be nervous, dressed in what will be one of his outfits for promotions.

He’s mid-pep talk to himself, stepping into the room with the smile, when he and the producer meet eyes, and Taehyung feels the world fall away from beneath him.

It’s hard to tell whether there’s recognition on both ends. Taehyung knows for certain that something of his own expression slips, because Jeongguk glances to him, perplexion in his eyes. The producer, however, is well controlled if he does recognize Taehyung, only holding out his hand with a smile.

“Taehyung,” the man who’d been shopping with Jimin greets pleasantly, “My name is Kim Namjoon.”

Time moves in slow motion, disjointed. Somehow Taehyung manages to take his hand, and keep a smile on his face and nod.

“It’s good to meet you,” Taehyung says, swallowing hard.

The meeting’s hard to get through. The work is easy, but Taehyung can’t help but squirm. If Namjoon recognizes him from the plaza, he doesn’t say anything, doesn’t give any indication at all, but still Taehyung’s sick, the reminder in-his-face.

When the hours are finally up, Taehyung’s got a cold sweat enough to be sick. He stays seated as everyone else leaves, staring down at the table until a chair pulls out beside him.

“Hey,” Jeongguk asks quietly, sitting down. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Fine,” Taehyung answers fast, but Jeongguk raises an eyebrow, and Taehyung shakes his head, cracking an empty laugh. “It’s obvious, huh?”

“Not too bad,” Jeongguk says impartially. “I don’t think anyone else has realized it. It fits your role, you know. Missing someone.”

It’s like a slap in the face. Taehyung worries at his lip, half-turning to look at him.

“You don’t have to talk about it,” Jeongguk says kindly. “You just seemed… I don’t know. Extra off today. But if you ever want to, I’m a good listener.”

Taehyung considers.

“I hurt someone,” he half-mumbles, finally, stomach twisting. “So that they wouldn’t know I—loved them. ...So that they didn’t miss me.”

That’s not the real reason. But it’s hard enough for Taehyung to say aloud; still impossible for him to admit the truth. Because the reality is he’d been scared. That’s if he’s honest with himself. It’s hard to be these days, excuse after excuse piling up. It never gets any easier; not the lies, and certainly not how much Taehyung misses Jimin.

And God, does Taehyung miss him. It’s the sort of pain that varies, too, because most days Taehyung’s torn between wishing there were more and wishing there’d never been anything at all. It’s hard to say what’s worse.

Most days he wishes he’d never fallen in love with Jimin. It’s a dream. To have stayed his friend, to have kept their arrangement. To be able to look at Jimin without hurting so badly, to kiss him without feeling like a traitor.

But there’s other days—nights, really, when he lies awake and lets himself think. Lets the pain ebb away, and on the cusp of unconsciousness plays fantasies in his mind that never could be. Of Jimin loving him, too, of no contracts and purely the two of them, nothing to worry about. In this dream there’s no broken rules, no flashing cameras, and most importantly, Jimin loves him back.

“That’s cruel,” Jeongguk says. Taehyung looks at him, startled, but despite the firm tone, Jeongguk just looks sad. “For the both of you.”

“I regret it,” Taehyung admits. He closes his eyes. “It’s taken so long for me to realize, but—I wish I hadn’t. I wish I’d told him the truth.”

He realizes his mistake a second too late. His head snaps to the side, but Jeongguk doesn’t seem to care, just looks thoughtful.

“Then you should tell him that,” he says. “I mean that, Taehyung.”

“It’s too late,” Taehyung’s shaking his head before he finishes speaking. “I hurt him too bad. I should’ve told him then, but—no, it’s too late. I hurt him too badly.”

It’s painful, thinking how he’s hurt Jimin. And he knows that he has, because he’d seen Jimin’s face when Taehyung had lied. Taehyung hadn’t wanted Jimin to know he’d fallen in love, and in retrospect, it’s probably one of the most cowardly things he’s ever done.

“I’d want someone to tell me,” Jeongguk says softly. “Even if it doesn’t work out in the end. It might make you feel better.” Taehyung wrings his hands together anxiously, and Jeongguk pauses a second, weighing his own words. “I’m just saying,” he says finally, “Being honest… even if it doesn’t work out,” Jeongguk tilts his head, “It could feel better. Think about it?”

“Maybe,” is all Taehyung can say, throat swollen. “Thank you, Jeongguk.”








When promotions start, Taehyung fastens a particular choker-and-pendant around his neck.









The press conference today is one of their first. Taehyung plays worriedly with the pendant at his throat as they linger backstage, seats being prepared.

“How are you feeling about today?”

Taehyung spins. It’s Namjoon, looking a tad too knowing. Taehyung’s been—not exactly avoidant of talking to him, but certainly apprehensive.

“Fine,” he says, feeling a little guilty for said behavior. Namjoon never seems bothered, just stops beside him.

“I have to warn you,” Namjoon says, looking and sounding regretful. “There may still be questions about… you know.”

Taehyung swallows. “Yeah,” he says, fidgeting. “I know. I’m prepared.”

“Are you going to answer?” Namjoon asks. It’s impartial, but it’s the closest the tension has come to the surface. Taehyung suspects his ignorance has been a front. At the very least, he knows Namjoon knows Jimin—it can’t have been too hard to put together the pieces.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says honestly. Taking a chance, he looks down at his feet, and adds, so quietly he’s uncertain Namjoon can catch it, “We weren’t even dating.”

Namjoon’s silent, and for a moment Taehyung wonders if he really hasn’t heard it. But then, “Maybe,” he says, and Taehyung’s stomach drops with his words. “That was the problem.”

Taehyung starts, glancing at him. Namjoon’s looking across to the stage, hands in his pockets. Taehyung can see Jimin’s taste in the suit.

“I just want you to know,” Namjoon says, “With answering. You have nothing to be ashamed of, if it was something that mattered.” He glances at him, and offers a small smile. “Good luck out there.”

They all file out together, Taehyung and Jeongguk seated centerpiece and close. The crowd settles down as they’re introduced, cameras snapping here and there. For the most part the questions are mundane, Taehyung listening and answering accordingly when he can, until one reporter stands.

“My question is for Kim Taehyung,” she says, and Taehyung feels it coming before her sentence is finished. “Do you have any comment on the recent speculation surrounding—”

“I’m sorry,” the host cuts across smoothly, head ducked politely but tone firm. “We will not be taking any off-topic questions today. Please keep all inquiries limited to—”

“Wait,” Taehyung interrupts, raising his microphone. The feedback’s a little awkward, host glancing over. For a panicked second with all eyes and dozens of cameras on him, he thinks again, but makes his decision.

“It’s fine,” he says. Murmurs break out across the crowd. “Please, continue.”

Looking stunned as everyone else, the reporter in question stands, microphone handed back. She clears her throat before asking, “Kim Taehyung, for a couple of months rumors of a relationship have surrounded you. Do you plan on definitively confirming or denying the speculation, or the validity of the pictures that started it?”

All eyes flit back to Taehyung. He thinks, chewing his lip, and makes up his mind.

“As I have stated previously, I am currently single,” Taehyung begins, slowly. “And I’m sure everyone has noticed I have been avoiding this topic. But—to put it to rest, I... will confirm the authenticity of the pictures.”

Cameras flash, pens scribbling. Taehyung glances down the table both ways, apprehensively, but the faces of his cast members are supportive. He continues, choosing his words carefully.

“There was someone special to me,” Taehyung says. “I would ask everyone to respect both our privacy, as… the person in the picture is not a public figure. What we have is no longer ongoing, and ended that day.”

Distantly, Taehyung thinks he should probably be more frightened. There’s an uproar of new questions, dozens standing at once and shouting queries and waving hands. But he’s out of his body, the words of so many coming back to him all at once.

“Sometimes, things aren’t meant to be,” Taehyung continues into the microphone distractedly. “When we realize that, we react differently. Sometimes we cling on until the last second, hoping. Sometimes we let go. I thought…” he pauses, realizing as he talks, heart rate picking up. “If things are meant to be, then they are. And that this time, they weren’t. But maybe instead of cutting things off, we’re just letting them go… that I let go…”

The hall has fallen back into a confused silence, the only sound a few hushed whispers and the click of cameras. “But maybe that’s not enough,” Taehyung says dazedly, hand tugging at his choker. “We can’t just cut ties and regret, it’s not enough. You have to be honest, and be willing to take a fall, even if it means rejection. Both of you deserve honesty. It’s not clinging, it’s not lying, it’s trying—” and Jimin’s face flashes before him, clearer than anything in the room.

Clearer than anything’s been for a long time.

Abruptly, Taehyung stands. “Excuse me,” he says hurriedly, as his heart beats a storm inside his chest. “I’m terribly sorry, but I—I’ve just realized something.”

Aside the curtain, Namjoon catches Taehyung’s eye. He gives a nod, and Taehyung nearly trips striding offstage. Behind him he hears the crowd erupt once more, his name called, but hears Namjoon’s calming voice into the microphone, thanking the audience for witnessing a surprise preview performance of Taehyung’s character. He can’t even care, already tugging his phone out of his pocket and letting the exit swing shut behind him.

It’s begun to rain. Not any sort of show-stopping, torrential downpour; a light drizzle, only noticeable the longer he stands in it. Desperately Taehyung punches through his phone, searching for any remnant, any history left untouched he can use to call Jimin’s number, and panicking with each second that flies past he’s lost it forever—

Then the screen goes dark with a text, buzzing in his hand. It’s from Namjoon, and on the screen Taehyung sees ten digits, familiar to him. He hits them without thinking, watching the call connect, stumbling into the artist lot as it rings and then clicks.


“Jimin,” Hearing his voice nearly pulls a sob from Taehyung. “Please,” he nearly begs, “Jiminie, I fucked up. I fucked up so bad. I’m so sorry, please.”

“Taehyung?” Jimin’s voice sounds concerned in an instant. “What’s going on?”

“I need to see you,” Taehyung curls an arm around himself, hair dripping wet into his eyes. “Oh, god, I know I don’t deserve it—but please—can we talk? Please. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“Where are you?” Jimin answers immediately. His voice is different, less of an echo, like he’s ran outside. “Tae, tell me where to find you.”

“The studio,” Taehyung whispers. His mind’s racing too fast to think properly, every part of him only craving to be honest after so long of lies—even if they’re beyond repair, even if he has to finally accept he’s lost Jimin forever. He has to try, and hates himself for not realizing it earlier.

“Please,” he adds, shivering. “I—I’m scared. I’m scared I’ll be too scared, like I was then—”

“I’m on my way,” Jimin says instantly. Taehyung hears his car engine in the back of the line, and sags against the wall.

Time moves slowly, disjointedly after that. Taehyung couldn’t be certain how long he waited, limbs numb with fear, grateful no one’s come after him. But time does pass, and when he sees Jimin’s car beyond the gate he pushes himself up, somehow shakily making it across and out. Jimin’s gotten out, nearly running to his side, catching Taehyung’s arm.

“Taehyung?” he asks, eyes frantic. He pulls open his car door, helping Taehyung inside. Without questioning he closes the door and heads back around; Taehyung hadn’t even realized his teeth were chattering until he’s hit with the warm air of the heater in Jimin’s car, hugging himself. Jimin seems to reach across the seat to him, but thinks better, drawing his hand back.

“Jimin,” Taehyung sniffles, running his hands up through his hair and pushing it back. “I want to talk to you. I have to talk to you. I should’ve then.”

“Slow down,” Jimin pleads. He’s hastily dressed, a simple jacket and sweatpants hurriedly thrown on, his hair messy. “Taehyung… what happened?”

“I need to tell the truth,” Taehyung closes his eyes, head falling back against the seat. “Jimin… please. I don’t deserve it. But we need to talk.”

He opens his eyes just in time to see something flash in Jimin’s, but Jimin just takes a deep breath, nodding. “Okay,” he says, hands going to the wheel, looking away. “Okay, Taehyung,” voice falling softer, “I know the place.”







The ride’s silent. Taehyung peels off his jacket, and shudders, warming slowly in the heat.

“You know there’s a blanket in the back,” Jimin says quietly. Taehyung does know, but hadn’t been sure of his place. He reaches back for it without comment, stomach sick when he realizes the exit Jimin is taking, but it doesn’t change what he’s decided, better for worse.

This beach is where everything had gone wrong. It’s only right that it’s where Taehyung tries to fix it.

“We—need to talk,” is Taehyung’s faint declaration when they make it out, standing beside each other.

Jimin smiles, somehow. It’s small and not at all happy, a little withdrawn. His eyes fall to the pendant Taehyung’s still got around his neck, the JM still carved onto its back from what seems now like so long ago.

“Like before?” he asks.

A pang goes through Taehyung’s chest. It’s a reminder that despite coming for him, Jimin might be beyond words for Taehyung to reach. He’d deserve it, too. He was wrong, so wrong, and Taehyung knows that now, but all he can do here is try. It’d be well within Jimin’s right to reject him.

“Jimin,” he starts, steadying himself with a breath, counts one-two-three, exhales the truth, for the first time in a long time. “What I wanted to say it—it was a mistake for me to end our arrangement.”

It’s terrifying to watch for Jimin’s reaction, let alone speculate what it might be. A shadow passes across Jimin’s face, but he nods for Taehyung to continue.

So Taehyung does.

“I didn’t really break it off because I was busy,” Taehyung’s voice drops a little lower. He can’t help it, and can’t keep his eyes open any longer. “I broke it off because… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

When there’s no response, he manages to glance at Jimin. He looks confused, and shrugs into himself, arms curled defensively around himself.

“You did hurt me,” Jimin says after a moment, looking away. Taehyung’s heart bleeds. “When we stopped talking, just like that. I was so afraid. That you were uncomfortable. That I was going to lose you forever.”

“No,” Taehyung can’t help but blurt out, exhaling with a shudder. “No, I... I know, Jimin. I know I shouldn’t have cut you out like that. But I thought… no, what I thought doesn’t matter. It was wrong of me. I never wanted to hurt you, I never wanted to make you afraid—” Jimin’s still looking so sad, corners of his mouth turned down, and Taehyung forces it out of himself. If he’s going to live with this pain, it’s going to at least be built upon honesty. “God, there’s no easy way to say this. But I was the one who was afraid, Jimin, I,” he whispers it, every part of him shaking, “I didn’t want you to realize. That I love you.”

Jimin’s face goes blank, jaw just parted. Taehyung can’t bear to hold back the dam now it’s broken, letting it flood out before Jimin’s lips can begin to move with his rejection.

“I’m sorry, Jimin. I am,” Taehyung swears, head shaking fiercely. “I love you. I know I promised, but I love you. If I can say it, even just this once—” he squeezes his eyes shut then, against the wind, against Jimin’s expression of shock, against the world itself and lets his heart sing it for the first and last time. “That I love you. How beautiful you are, how happy you’ve made me feel. It was worth it. Worth it even if we had to break it off, because I’d rather love you than not. And I’m sorry I’m the one who—who fell and couldn’t even end it properly, let you think we—but you deserve to know. I realize that now, so I’m saying it. I love you, Jimin.”

When the words stop, it’s sudden. The silence rings loud in Taehyung’s ears, the absence of his outpouring, and the first tears squeeze out the corner of his eyes. It lasts so long and so loud Taehyung almost prays for Jimin to say it soon, something, anything, whatever his next words are, because Taehyung can barely bare to breathe, let alone look at the disaster he’s wrought between them today.

“Kim Taehyung,” Jimin says finally. His voice is odd, cutting across the quiet abruptly. “You’re an idiot.”

It’s unexpected enough Taehyung’s eyes fly open, expecting to see Jimin’s glare, to see his rejection, to see anything but: Jimin’s eyes tearing up the same as his, wide and drinking in Taehyung’s expression with the hunger of a dying man. Taehyung’s breath comes harsher, more uneven as the tears start in earnest.

“What—” Taehyung tries, throat forming a painful swell even as he tries hazily to sort through his confusion. “Jimin?”

It’s Jimin’s turn to look away, pulling his coat around himself and looking down. “Do you remember the day you broke it off?”

He’ll never be able to forget. Afraid, Taehyung manages a hoarse, “Yes.”

“That day—” Jimin says, lip shaking if he looks close enough, “After we came back from Japan. I was going to call off the arrangement, too.”

It hits Taehyung like he’s been punched in the gut. “Oh,” he manages weakly, teeth chattering. Jimin’s brow furrows.

“No. Not—you don’t understand, Tae,” he says, and somehow he giggles, bringing up a hand to wipe at his eyes. Sniffling, he looks up. “I was going to ask you out.”

“Wh—” Taehyung’s jaw drops dumbly, mind not processing fast enough, eyes still leaking. “Jimin? But, no, you said… about relationships…”

“When we’ve got an arrangement, yeah,” Jimin puts his head in his hands, rubbing at his eyes. “That’s a power imbalance. But to call it off, so we could just—but then you—so I thought you knew. That you realized, you were getting out, you didn’t wanna even be friends anymore …” Jimin half-sobs, half-laughs. “Taehyung. Taehyung.”

“Then you don’t,” Taehyung pauses, blood roaring in his ears, unable to believe. “Hate me?”

“Taehyung,” Jimin repeats more urgently, and looks up to catch Taehyung’s eye, tears wet on his cheeks. “Oh, Taehyung. I love you.”

They both move, then. Taehyung’s mind is still stunned, but his heart’s already known, as they fall into each other's’ arms. Jimin’s hands are cold on his jaw but his mouth’s warm when it meets Taehyung’s, a kiss for all they’ve missed and more. It’s tearful, and it’s giddy, laughing a little high and unable to stop, unable to part for more than a few seconds like for fear they’ll separate once more.

“You love me?” Taehyung has to repeat, swaying. It’s dumb, voice shocked and yet lifted on high in euphoria. “You—me?”

“Baby,” Jimin sighs, breath a flutter against his mouth. “Yes, Kim Taehyung, I love you. I love your smile, your voice. I love your creativity and how you blush when you’re complimented and the way you can’t sleep without holding onto something. I love your eyes and your nose and your kindness and all I could think about my entire fucking birthday was how to end our arrangement so I could be with you. God, I almost broke—I love you, Kim Taehyung,” Jimin swears it, hands dropping to curl around Taehyung’s wrists. He brings Taehyung’s hand to his chest, solid and warm and entirely Jimin.

“We’re idiots,” Taehyung whispers disbelievingly, bumping his forehead to Jimin’s. Their noses touch, and it’s all it takes to be lost in another round of kissing, breaking only when they can’t help but smile helplessly. “I was so afraid.”

“I love you,” Jimin says back, a devotional. “Oh, I didn’t know what to do. But do I love you—? I want to hold you and kiss you and be by your side to see you succeed. I love you. If you’ll have me, baby, I’m yours.”

“When did you know?” Taehyung whispers.

“I think—for a while. But I tried to bury it,” Jimin shakes his head, hands squeezing Taehyung’s. “I told myself I just—y’know, it’s you. That I was starstruck, then that I was just fond, then that we just fit well, but—on our trip, I started thinking how things could be, how we could be. And it was terrifying,” Jimin straightens, eyes wide. “Knowing what would happen to us. That I was breaking my own rules, the guilt of going on like that but—I wanted to tell you when it meant something.”

“By the beach,” Taehyung realizes, head spinning. His vision swims. Jimin reaches to swipe his cheek with a thumb and his own tearful smile. “Jiminie.”

“I couldn’t tell how you felt,” Jimin whispers. “Sometimes, I thought—a way you’d look at me. The night at the ryokan. But then you—and I knew, I just knew I’d ruined it all—”

“Shut up,” Taehyung cries, shaking his head. “I’m so sorry. Jimin, I’m so sorry, I thought I was helping us—”

“That’s past now,” Jimin says softly. Something occurs to him, eyes lighting up, and with determination, he says. “Taehyung, let’s—end our arrangement. For the real reason this time.” He reaches to Taehyung’s face, cups it once more. “Nothing has to change,” he promises, eyes wet, “I’m already yours. Just—no arrangement. If you’ll have me. It can just be us.”

Taehyung sniffles. Jimin thumbs away the tears, scanning every inch of his face.

“You’re going to have to try harder than that to convince me not to buy you things,” Taehyung manages finally, trembling. “I’ll always want to treat you.”

Jimin laughs, head thrown back, beautiful in the dying light. “Then treat me. But be mine, too.”

“This is really happening,” Taehyung whispers disbelievingly. “Then, Jimin—let’s end our arrangement. And—be mine, instead,” he finishes shyly. He cups Jimin’s face back, thumbing at falling tears.

“Yours,” Jimin promises in a gasp, bumping his forehead to Taehyung’s. Their lips meet again, again, the only thing breaking their kiss their smiles. “Oh, Taehyung.”

“We’re going to have so many dogs,” Taehyung mumbles, hands running down to loop around Jimin’s neck as Jimin’s hands fall to his waist.

“And a cat,” Jimin says, surging up to kiss him again, giggling, “And fight over the color of the shower curtains like a heterosexual couple.”

“We’ll have a June wedding,” Taehyung sniffles. Jimin laughs, shoving at Taehyung’s chest. “It’s when we met!”

“You’re ridiculous,” Jimin mutters, but his cheeks are flushed pink, eyes still wet. “You’re so good for me.”

“I bet you say that to all your clients,” Taehyung whispers, and Jimin grins, remembering.

“They wish,” he says, and takes Taehyung’s hand.