Archive of Our Own ^beta

 

It's five months, twelve days, and three minutes after they moved into their new apartment when Jimin starts complaining about his and Taehyung's not-so-mutual living arrangement with the dust and the mold.

 

To be fair, Taehyung had attempted to evade the idea of a cleaning day and succeeded for longer than he thought he would ("Ignorance is bliss," Taehyung declares and is promptly shoved to the side as Jimin comes up to inspect the backsplash in the kitchen. Jimin yells in frustration and Taehyung's sort of stunned for a moment before he does the same). It's not like he's the only one who's been screening out the mildew between bathroom tiles while taking a shower at ass o'clock in the morning, anyway.

 

By a unanimous decision, the bookshelf goes through purification first. Taehyung volunteers to free all of the species it houses and find them a new mother, namely that one neighbor who purposely goes through the entirety of her karaoke book during Taehyung and Jimin's finals week.

  

Jimin's wiping down the middle row of the shelf when he tugs his bandanna down, previously perched on the bridge of his nose. He purses his lips. "Hey, Tae - look at this."

 

Taehyung casts a stack of graded Humanities papers aside.

 

He blinks at Jimin and points to his object of interest. "You still have that?"

"Of course I do," Jimin scoffs, blowing the cobwebs off of his hands. "It's our high school yearbook. This is iconic. A heartwarming tribute to our history."

"Yeah, there's that one guy who 'accidentally' inserted a dick pic in the class collage. It was so pretty."

"Don't you wish you had a legacy like that," says Jimin, flopping on the couch. Taehyung picks himself up from the floor and squeezes next to him. He earns a passing wrinkle of Jimin's nose.

Jimin gamely flips through the yearbook, only pausing when Taehyung rests his chin on his shoulder. A few more pages and he starts laughing in that oddly unparalleled way of his where his eyes disappear behind crescents and he flings himself onto the nearest available surface. In this case, Jimin's nothing short of lucky when it's Taehyung he throws himself at.

"Oh, shit," Jimin wheezes, "remember when the school council brought yearbook awards back to life?"

Taehyung meets Jimin's eyes readily. "Are you talking about that 'brotp' award they gave us?"

"Yeah, I didn't get it - we were being so gay even Namjoonie-hyung and Hobi-hyung caught it in the air and started being gay with each other. That said...I still think their little thing was weird. I thought they were the straightest dudes since the conception of the universe."

"Oh, oh, then the whole student body had the gall to vote for that photo of you on your tiptoes while you struggled to," Taehyung starts, only to be elbowed enthusiastically, "okay, while you kissed my forehead. There was also that time when we were holding hands and I was licking ice cream off of your tongue. People said it was cute that we were so comfortable with each other we'd share spare amylase any day."

"College is only slightly better, so far," Jimin sits back up, untying the bandanna around his neck. "Last week we were in this, this campfire thing -"

Taehyung squints. "Wait, wasn't I there?"

Jimin pats the back of his head. "You ditched me for your thesis on methamphetamine binge, babe."

"Oh. Right. Uh."

"No grudges." Jimin holds his hands up. He smiles. There's something different about it, and usually with Park Jimin, something different means something sly. "Anyway. We went on this retreat and we were going around the circle trying to christen everybody's sex lives with flavors."

Faux dread paints Taehyung's features half-assedly. "Oh, no."

"Ours got dubbed 'plain vanilla'," Jimin proudly announces.

"Oh, no," repeats Taehyung, a hand on his chest. "Oh, no. I always knew I was going to be a disappointment but this is too much."

"A disgrace," agrees Jimin with a sigh.

"I'm honestly offended to the point of wanting to catalog all of the receipts against the vanilla sex case. Otherwise known as doing the impossible."

Jimin folds his knees and rests his feet on Taehyung's clothed thighs. They seem to serve their purpose of being temporary rags. "You gotta admit that there are some memorable ones, though."

"You keep tabs on favorites," Taehyung says flatly.

"Don't you?" spits Jimin, only mildly embarrassed. 

"Well, yeah." Taehyung licks his lips. Takes the bottom one between his teeth and slowly, slowly lets it go. "Come to think of it, there are at least three that I remember the most..."

 

 

***

 

Case #3
A year and a half ago

 

There's a reason why Taehyung has straight A's even in courses that take him to hell and back on a flimsy raft fashioned from peculiar circadian rhythms and frequent bouts of slamming his face onto his textbooks.

Well, there are two reasons, but only one of them involves a very happy boner in the middle of exams.

It's Jimin who suggests it first. 

"Appropriate incentive is the key to encouraging good performance," says Jimin delicately, prodding Taehyung to sit on the floor. Taehyung stares at him curiously. "I think this particular incentive will have at least one drawback later on, but...considering how we're both terribly unmotivated for calculus, it'd be awesome if we could study while doing mutual stripteases, then conclude the session with sex. A lot of it, if we're still awake by then."

Taehyung had been stuck on a half-nod before he reels back. "Wait, what?"

"I'm proposing a model for effective intake of very dry information." Jimin slides a box of index cards - an aggregation of the formulas he'd been diligently working on - toward Taehyung, who had so furiously tried to interpret and comprehend the idea but all he heard was something about nakedness and dicking. 

Taehyung lets his jaw fall slack. "Are we getting fucked in every sense of the word?"

Jimin fishes one card out of his box. His eyebrows are furrowed so deeply that Taehyung fears for whatever was running through Jimin's mind. 

"We're acing this test, I promise. I wrote down derivation and integration formulas with some of the series that are gonna be on the test," replies Jimin, "and we're gonna quiz each other on them. Take something off every time the other gets the right answer. Simple enough?"

"You have winter gear on," is the only thing Taehyung could comment. Jimin only smiles wryly at him. 

It works, to an extent. Taehyung, being the visual learner that he is, comes up with a system of associating one of Jimin's garments with a particular function. His professor couldn't fathom why Taehyung sketches a pair of underwear next to his proof of 22/7 exceeding pi.

"I got a 100," Taehyung murmurs, placing his exam on the desk as he knelt before it with his hands clasped reverently. "Holy shit, I got a 100."

Jimin pops a vitamin tablet into his mouth. "Nice. What's that 'Come see me' note on the corner?"

"Dunno," Taehyung shrugs. "Might be something about my artistic skills."

Said artistic skills are to be tested again in organic chemistry, which Taehyung laments about at least five times a week.

"You gotta stop being so hard on yourself, man." Jimin noses through the fringe of One Very Miserable Taehyung, whose dependable sidekick today happens to be an almost empty jar of Nutella. Jimin presses his lips against Taehyung's temple in sympathy. 

"Take me with you into the math department," Taehyung mutters through a spoonful of hazelnut spread.

"If I do that you'll be stuck in school for at least another three years," says Jimin. He puts his chin on Taehyung's shoulder and gestures toward the portable whiteboard on Taehyung's lap. "What are those, anyway?"

Taehyung sighs and deposits the white board into his drawer. "Bunch of synthesis reactions."

"Sounds slick. Want me to motivate you?"

"I have to draw a lot of things this time," Taehyung replies sadly. "I might get distracted by your face."

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. "There's an easy fix."

10PM before his last quarter exam finds Taehyung sitting on a swiveling chair with nothing but a blindfold and socks on.

"Fuck," Taehyung mutters.

"Not yet," Jimin chides, palms flat on the plane of Taehyung's shoulders. He'd strung his bandanna around Taehyung's eyes so snugly that Taehyung couldn't even make rough silhouettes out.

Taehyung exhales, knuckles starkly pale against the armrests.

Jimin seems to move. Taehyung couldn't tell anything apart - only that he's heard the telltale shuffling noises only produced by denim.

Jimin's fingertips dances lightly - so, so cautiously treading along Taehyung's collarbones. Taehyung's cock twitches in interest. "Alright. I got your notes. All you have to do is tell me what the product is. Products, if applicable."

"What," Taehyung shifts in his seat, "what do I get if I'm right?"

Jimin pauses. Taehyung knows that he's grinning, the bastard. "My tongue."

Jimin is kind enough to start off with the easy ones. "Number one. I have potassium butoxide -" Taehyung reflexively squeezes his eyes shut -"and t-butyl bromide."

"No reaction," Taehyung answers, somewhat breathless. "There's...there's no yield if tertiary halides are used for the Williamson ether synthesis."

Jimin proceeds to sit on Taehyung's lap, jeans scorching a trail of very much warranted stimuli along Taehyung's thighs. He grinds down once. Licks the shell of Taehyung's ear and murmurs, "Good."

Taehyung shivers.

Soon enough Taehyung's left with wetness on the base of his neck, the side of his mouth, his chest, his fingers. He thrusts up into the empty air, voice caught in his throat.

"I think this is a difficult one, Tae," Jimin informs him, smoothing back the damp strands of hair matted on Taehyung's forehead.

Taehyung clicks his tongue. His words come out slurred, coarse. He comes out devastated. "Come on, Jiminie. Let's get it over with."

"4-methyl-1-pentene with the reagents in this order," says Jimin slowly. "One, peracetic acid. Two, sodium methoxide. Three, hydron in water."

Taehyung opens his mouth tentatively. "Shit, I...I haven't studied this yet."

"Give it a shot anyway?"

Taehyung shakes his head. All of the structures and arrows from electron donors swim among the dots behind his eyelids. There's the unmistakable impact of knees dropping to the floor and - fuck, fuck. "I...uh. Shit. 1-methoxy...uh, 4-methyl...pentan-2-ol?"

And then - and then nothing.

But Jimin's always been quite the hurricane. He runs his thumbs along the inside of Taehyung's thighs, doesn't say a word as he abruptly shoves them apart.

Jimin finally laughs, lips barely grazing the head of Taehyung's cock. Taehyung tries to picture how he'd look between his legs. "There's my good boy."

Taehyung surges forward when Jimin takes him. His cock lies heavy on Jimin's tongue, until Jimin picks up and licks earnestly along the slit, the ridges. He presses down and down and down -

"Godfuck," Taehyung sobs out, fingers reaching out and searching until they catch onto Jimin's hair. He curls up into the heat of Jimin's throat, sensing nothing but tight and wet and more moremore -

The blindfold shifts on his nosebridge as he throws his head back with a gruff moan, Jimin's lips closing in on the base of his cock.

Jimin breathes harshly through his nose before he starts swallowing around Taehyung. He pulls back then goes back down again in a sloppy rhythm, mapping out the sharpness of Taehyung's hips. Jimin coughs for a few times and lets Taehyung fall back on the cushion of his chair, panting.

"Last one," Jimin says through the gravel in his tone, guiding Taehyung's cock to smear a copious amount of pre-cum along his lips. Taehyung groans weakly. "One more, babe. But for this one I'll need you to take the blindfold off."

Taehyung blinks, lashes caught under the weight of Jimin's bandanna. "I...what?"

"Just one reaction mechanism that I'll need you to write out," Jimin explains. He pushes himself up. Taehyung whimpers when Jimin stalks off to rummage through Taehyung's drawer of school supplies, and as soon as Taehyung unties the blindfold around his head, he's presented with a figure already drawn for him.

There's some pre-cum on the marker that Jimin offers to him. Taehyung's slightly disappointed despite the stupor currently clouding his mental faculties when he finds that Jimin's still in his shirt and jeans.

He frowns at the problem on the white board.

"What's wrong?" asks Jimin, head tilted to the side.

"It's..." Taehyung begins with an arrow to H+. "This is probably the reaction that I know the most. It's just, ah -" he bites his lip as the cold aluminum frame of the white board brushes along the length of his cock "- it's just a variation of pinacol-pinacolone rearrangement, I think."

Jimin smiles at him. "Better get to work and earn what you can, then."

Taehyung loses his trail of thought every now and then when Jimin leans over him from behind, tongue darting out to flick over the side of his neck. He's momentarily stuck on the resonance structures but Jimin mouths along his jaw and he's on the verge of being gone, shuddering and bursting at the seams as he writes down the final product.

Jimin gingerly kisses each of Taehyung's knuckles in the midst of taking the white board away. "I wonder if you got it correctly."

"I," Taehyung's voice breaks off as Jimin looks over his answer and his class notes. There's still a challenge, although somewhat muted, in the depths of his eyes. "I know I did. Please, just -"

Jimin moves in front of him. Hoists his legs up by the back of his knees until Taehyung's calves are situated over Jimin's shoulders.

Jimin's breath ghosts over Taehyung's cock, over his ass, as he mumbles into his skin. "You did well, Tae."

A prelude of Jimin tonguing his balls has Taehyung gritting his teeth, his trembling hands finding purchase on the armrests. Jimin doesn't let up. He etches bruises onto Taehyung's thighs in fiery red that'll bloom purples in the next few days.

Even then, that's nothing when put up against the canvas of Jimin grinning up at Taehyung the same time his hands drift lower to spread Taehyung's ass apart.

Jimin is Jimin even in sex. There's grace in the way his tongue flicks out to taste Taehyung, the way he traces the rim of Taehyung's hole with a lazy drag.

Taehyung, in contrast, is all adrenaline and instinct - he shakily grasps Jimin by the wrist but Jimin pulls it back. For a while it's only the stutter of Taehyung's breath that resounds in their room, until Jimin hooks his thumbs around Taehyung's hole, dips down, and sucks on his flesh.

"Ah, ah," Taehyung's mouth falls open, spit and tears dribbling down his chin. Jimin fucks him open with his tongue and Taehyung instinctively crosses his ankles over Jimin's back, hips tossing off of the chair. He wants it deeper, wants Jimin to eat him out until he'll be sitting around for a week with the remnants of the feeling of Jimin's tongue inside him. Until he could cum from the thought alone.

Jimin is unyielding through it all. He withdraws when Taehyung ruts back against his mouth. "Let's also...cover a lesson on etiquette. What do you say when you want something, babe?"

"Please," Taehyung whines, exposes the column of his throat that's tainted with a lovely pink from how much he wants to be taken. "Please, please, Jiminie, I've been good -"

Jimin presses tight-lipped kisses along Taehyung's cock. "Yeah. You've been really good. So good, baby." He starts pumping Taehyung, starts with a curled up fist, starts teasing Taehyung's ass open again. The wheels of the chair creak against the floor with a high noise as Taehyung rocks back with garbled semblances of his begging dangling on the tip of his tongue.

Taehyung cums unprecedentedly but Jimin - Jimin fucks him harder, faster through the tremors. Swirls his tongue around and against Taehyung's walls until Taehyung slumps on the seat. He moves back up, lifting and kneading on Taehyung's ass the same time he swallows down Taehyung's cock.

"Ah, fuck, fuck -"

Jimin doesn't get off. His throat constricts as he bobs up, down, up and Taehyung cums for the second time with the wind knocked out of him. With a breathy gasp. Maybe he also does for a third, a fourth. It's dry and he blacks out in a heartbeat and more.

He only stirs to Jimin wiping him down and pecking the tip of his nose with an obscure expression on his face. "You'll ace ochem tomorrow, won't you?"

Taehyung looks at him blankly. Everything only makes sense a couple of minutes later. Perhaps only a little, but Jimin doesn't have to know.

"...Fuck yeah."

***

Present time

"Ah, you got the top marks in ochem, too." Jimin tugs at the one around his neck, at his makeshift mask while weeding out hoarded items and cobwebs. "It wasn't this bandanna that we had back then, was it?"

"Nah, we chucked that one out," Taehyung replies. He browses through the solo photographs until he finds Jimin's. His uniform's buttoned all the way up, glasses perched high. "Look at you. So innocent and small. Twelve out of ten would bang."

"Small? You have approximately 35% muscle mass while I have 45%," Jimin shoots back. "And innocent...I'm more creative than you are. You're the scientist but I'm much more experimental -"

"That was one time," Taehyung says, defiant. "I mean, sure, you introduced me to more of Wild Ass Adventures Incorporated -"

Jimin smacks his lips against Taehyung's cheek. "Thank you."

"But I bet that one of your best orgasms was due to my idea, or was at least inspired in part," finishes Taehyung grandly, a cheeky grin taking up half of his face. Jimin scowls. "Remember the handcuffs that I 'swiped from the police department'?"

***

Case #2
Two years ago

"Why are there handcuffs on the bed?"

Taehyung looks up from his phone. "Oh. Hi. How'd the competition go?"

Jimin drops his duffel bags along the doorway. He reeks of hotel-standard shampoo and...and some kind of citrus-scented body wash. Taehyung's favorite.

He echoes, "Why. Are there handcuffs. On the bed."

With a nonchalant shrug, Taehyung says, "I almost got arrested tonight."

"What the hell, Tae," Jimin spits out, trudging toward Taehyung to fist his collar and and look him in the eye. "What did you do?"

Taehyung bites his lip as a precaution. He bursts out laughing, anyway. "Chill, babe. I didn't do anything."

Jimin stares at him in disbelief before his hands fall limply to his sides. "You kinky little shit. How'd you get these?"

"I almost got arrested tonight," deadpans Taehyung - he tries to halt there for the sake of dramatics, but Jimin pins him with a glare. "What? I was trying to help a drunk fella get home when he almost shoved me into the incoming traffic. I had to retaliate."

"The handcuffs," Jimin says.

Taehyung goes back to his phone. "I might've stolen them."

"Kim Taehyung."

"Alright, fine, I bought them from an online sex shop." Taehyung throws his hands up in exasperation. "Well, not an online sex shop. There's this police officer who's selling his on eBay and I had nothing better to do besides gawk at the most dubious offers listed on the site."

Jimin narrows his eyes. "It's dubious, alright."

"Consider this," Taehyung grins unabashedly, "you're terribly sore from your dance competition. I can do all the work."

"I'm sore," Jimin says thoughtfully, "and that kinda defeats your point."

Taehyung pauses. "...That's a valid argument."

The mattress dips when Jimin choreographs and executes a landing on his side of the bed. He lies facedown on the pillow and mutters, "I'm tired, maybe I'll take you up on your offer this weekend. Sorry."

"It's okay," Taehyung replies lightly, kicking the handcuffs away and off of the sheets, "I'll just...jack it off in the shower then we can cuddle. Or something. Only if you're still up for it."

Jimin shifts to face Taehyung with a groggy smile. "Sounds good. You're the softest. The hottest."

"'Course I am, you have ridiculously high standards."

"What I meant was 'warmest'," Jimin yawns, "but that, too. Need a picture to get off to?"

Taehyung's already rid of his shirt and halfway across the room when he says, "Sure, indulge me."

"Our rival team had poles in their studio," says Jimin, "and you know how flexible I am. They only had these, these fitted shorts -"

"Alright, go to sleep," Taehyung laughs amidst the strain. He knows the contours of Jimin's face, his mouth, when he's pushing his limits, and that...that new tidbit about his thighs (- grinding against the pole toned under his shorts slick with sweat -) burns through his composure and pricks his skin.

Park fucking Jimin, groans Taehyung inwardly. He uses up a day's worth of hot water but even then, even then -

***

It's Saturday and Taehyung wakes up. Pops the joints in his toes and rolls across the burrow that had manifested from tangled covers and the impressions of two people -

Tries to, anyway, because as soon as he makes an effort to move, there's a clang of metal against the bedframe and an insistent pressure on his wrists and ankles.

Taehyung blinks at the ceiling.

"Morning," chirps Jimin from the kitchen. The aroma of toast and bacon wafts across their shitty convertible apartment and Taehyung - Taehyung still doesn't understand.

"What the fuck," Taehyung mutters.

Jimin arrives with breakfast a little later. He sets it aside, steadies it on a stack of books they'd devised to imitate a side table. He smiles with saccharine and a promise. "Told you I'd make it up to you, Tae."

"But," Taehyung protests, "you were supposed to be the one tied down. And - and where'd you get all the cuffs? For my feet too, jesus -"

"Unlike you, I purchased them from a legitimate sex shop," Jimin says. He leans over Taehyung and presses his hand down on Taehyung's abdomen. "And nah, I was the one who was gonna get a cock up his ass. That plan hasn't changed. I just wanted to spice it up a little."

"I can't even - Jiminie, I can't even touch you," Taehyung stutters out. He sounds frantic, desperate - and he'd just woken up. To reiterate: Park fucking Jimin.

Jimin cups his cheeks and kisses him once, twice. "That's okay. Here's how we're going to play this -"

"You're the kinky little shit," Taehyung realizes.

"As I was saying," Jimin interrupts, "here's how we're going to play this little game. You're bound to the bed -"

"No shit."

"- but I'm going to do exactly as you say," concludes Jimin. He licks his lips. There's some sort of animalistic need, some kind of guttural undertone to his words. "You'll have to make me think you're in charge. Just. I don't know how to...how to explain it, but."

Understanding flits across Taehyung's features. "...Oh."

"Is that a good Oh?" Jimin asks, uncertain.

"I -" there's so much, so much that Taehyung could do. So much to command, so many ways to tell Jimin he's still in control. Fuck, he'd never thought an irony like this could stir the heat in his groin this swiftly. "I, yeah. I get what you're saying."

Jimin clears his throat and stands up from the bed. He smiles. "Convince me, then."

"Fine," Taehyung murmurs, as resolute as steel.

He doesn't think, doesn't ponder much on a catalyst that would have Jimin begging. When Jimin eyes him owlishly from the side of the bed, Taehyung blurts, "Strip."

Jimin laughs. "Why should I?"

"You shouldn't," Taehyung exhales, "but you will, anyway. Isn't that what you want?"

"What about what you want," says Jimin.

The roll of Taehyung's hips is shallow with all his restraints in the way. "I want to fuck you, fill you up real good. But I also want to see you."

"Now, what you want," says Taehyung, calculating in this round, "you want to hold me down because you want to take your time, want to take as much of my cock in every way you can. And you're going to have to fucking strip because you want to feel every inch of me, babe."

Jimin's breath hitches. Taehyung forges on with a thrash, a threat, the chains on his cuffs taut. "You like that, don't you? If I had it my way you'd be on your knees by now, swallowing my cock, asking for my cum. But that'd pass too quickly. You'd want it slower. You'd want more."

"Fuck." Jimin clenches his jaw. There's already an unmistakable tent in his sweatpants. "Fuck, you're too good at this."

"Come on, Jiminie," is Taehyung's curt response. It's close to a growl, bordering on the type of hoarseness that Jimin has once admitted to getting off to. "Come on. Out of those clothes. Now."

A grunt falls from Jimin's lips. He lifts his shirt tentatively, toned flesh underneath, and the collar catches on his chin before it ruffles his hair haphazardly. He tosses the shirt onto the floor and begins loosening the knot on his sweatpants. They're riding low on his pelvis and Taehyung has half the mind to watch Jimin's face instead, because he'd tear those pants if he could. If only he could.

"Good," croaks Taehyung when Jimin's down to his briefs, a clean white that doesn't obscure the outline of his cock at all. "Don't take those off yet."

Jimin's already thumbing at his waistband, snapping it back to slap against his hips. "Hm?"

"Lick your fingers," says Taehyung, still eagle-spread and ridiculously hard. "Use two at the same time, Jiminie. I want them wet."

Jimin doesn't immediately comply, but when he does, he goes on rather slowly. He's flushed down to the base of his neck and oh, oh, he's clearly enjoying this more than Taehyung is. Jimin makes a show of darting his tongue out and hollowing his cheeks as he thrusts his fingers into his mouth.

"Fuck, stop, babe," Taehyung hisses. Pulls on his chains with raw force. "Enough. Take those out and...and come up here."

"Come up where?" Jimin laves his tongue over the edges of his mouth to make them glisten. To make him look more fuckable. "You gotta be more specific, Tae."

"Sit between my knees," says Taehyung. He bucks up, again, only to be met by crisp air. Goddammit. "Kneel and spread your legs while you're at it."

Jimin swings his thighs over Taehyung's own, framing them instead. He looks at Taehyung, tips his chin up. "I could, I could cum like this. I could touch myself and cum on you while you're still bound up."

"No," Taehyung tells him. He's no stranger to doing what he can to get whatever he wants, and this time, it's his voice that he fine-tunes to be nothing smooth. This time it's all primal. "No, you won't. Rub your fingers under your balls, and keep your briefs on."

Stunned, Jimin says, "What?"

Taehyung breathes sharply and shifts a leg to brush slightly against Jimin's knee. "Ask one more time and I'll make you go to class next week with a plug up your ass and some nice panties over your pretty little cock. Maybe after that I'll have some lube dripping out of you for the whole day."

Jimin reddens. He almost teases the head of his cock out, almost wraps a hand around himself, but he bites his lip and does as he's told. He's shaking when he gets there, tracing circles and jagged lines through his briefs, and when he presses too hard on the space between his cock and his hole, he lets out a broken moan.

"Go on, baby," coaxes Taehyung as Jimin rides it out, precum staining the front of his briefs. "Give me a good show."

"Feels, feels good," says Jimin, fingers traipsing from his balls to his ass, all still clothed. His head lolls to the side. "Ah, I - It feels good but I want your - I want your cock - "

"Work for it," Taehyung almost, almost snarls. He heaves himself up. "You don't deserve it yet. You haven't made much noise."

"Wanna, wanna ride you," Jimin replies, louder. He palms himself through his damp briefs.

Taehyung spits out, "Work for it."

Jimin flicks a nipple while he teases his hole through his briefs, pushing back against his fingers only to be met by resistance. A tremor in his breath and he swallows around his fingers again to coat them with spit. Jimin brings them back to the base of his cock with a whimper. "I want to take my briefs off."

"Then ask nicely," says Taehyung, breathing hard. "I might consider it."

Jimin's voice is small when he stutters out, "Can I, can I take them off, Tae? I want - want your skin on mine."

Taehyung studies the dirtied white, the flare of Jimin's arousal peeking out of his waistband. "No."

Jimin reels back. "What the fuck -"

"I said that I might consider it," Taehyung says gruffly. "Pull it to the side and loosen yourself up."

"What - I can't," says Jimin, wide-eyed.

"Just...let's try it, baby, and if it doesn't work out then we'll go another way from there," murmurs Taehyung slowly. He drags his teeth over his bottom lip. "Bunch your briefs up to the side and turn around, wanna see that ass of yours clenching around my cock when you finally fuck yourself on it."

Jimin opens his mouth to argue but he finds that he already lost, swayed into reaching over Taehyung to grab the bottle of lube under the pillow. A dazed expression crosses his eyes, paints his lips a luscious pink as he gasps at the motion of Taehyung's hips against his own, only separated by a thin, sodden cloth.

"Turn around and ride me," Taehyung groans. Jimin shudders when the lube drips onto his fingers and Taehyung's stomach. It's messy, it's a lot of work for Jimin to hold himself up, to hold his briefs aside when he starts fingering his ass.

It's when he's adding another finger that all the air leaves him and Jimin bounces with reckless abandon, eyes closed to the scrape of his own nails against the rim. "Baby, I, I want your cock, I'm ready -"

"Fuck," Taehyung grinds out, searing the image of Jimin rutting against his own fingers in his mind. The chains rattle wildly. "Fuck, come on, turn around for me."

Jimin scrambles to maneuver himself over Taehyung, the globes of his ass barely covered by briefs strung so tightly in Jimin's hand. Jimin blinks, about to lower himself, when he stares ahead of him and sucks in a sharp breath.

"There's a," Jimin wrenches out, "fuck, there's a mirror in front of me, Tae."

Taehyung knows. He knows because he's the one who left it there in haste before heading to an interview two days ago. He can't see Jimin - can't see anything on the free-standing mirror - but Jimin can watch himself, and that's enough for another stream of pre-cum to leak from the tip of Taehyung's cock.

"Why'd you stop, baby?" Taehyung urges, thrusts up into the cleft of Jimin's ass. "Don't you want to see how desperate you are for my cock?"

Jimin remains fixated on his reflection. His other hand drifts toward Taehyung's cock, wraps around it in a tight circle and strokes it all the way from the bulb to the base until Taehyung falls apart. He's silent when he looks at the mirror, at the way he guides Taehyung's cock into his hole, at the way he sinks down until his balls are flush against Taehyung's own.

He can't - he doesn't even have the voice to scream.

Taehyung's much less taxing on his own pleasure. His back arches off of the bed, makes the whole frame shake with every push and pull. "Can you see, fuck, can you see how good you look?"

 

Jimin heaves himself up until the head of Taehyung's cock catches on to the rim of his hole, and he drops back down with a cry, a half-shout.

 

"You're so -  so. Fucking. Deep," Jimin says with every thrust, through clenched teeth as he ups the pace, rides so fervently that his thigh muscles ripple and his briefs sometimes get in the way.

 

Taehyung's close, the strain in his limbs too overwhelming so he settles back down  and lets Jimin fuck himself. It's building up, the suckerpunch, and it hits him moments before Jimin lifts himself. His cock slips out of Jimin's ass, a pool of cum dribbling onto his briefs.

 

Through the haze, Taehyung groans, "Get yourself out of those briefs and lick my cum off."

 

Jimin makes a noise in the back of his throat as he situates himself between Taehyung's legs and tugs his underwear down, fingers reaching behind him to swipe some of the cum and taint his tongue with thick white. He pants and watches himself all the while.

 

The wet sounds borne of his lapping at the damp spots rings in his ears as he begins fucking into his own fist. Jimin looks up, catches himself slack-jawed and Taehyung's iterations of so good, so fucking good for me baby fades as he folds himself in half. He thrusts up when he buries his nose in Taehyung's scent. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."

 

When he cums it's hard and too much, too much. Jimin doesn't get to see the mirror but Taehyung sees it all from the back, Jimin's neck curved toward the ceiling, Jimin's body a system of strings all wound too tight and finally, finally let go.

 

Jimin collapses onto Taehyung's chest when he regains his breath. "Holy shit."

 

"Holy shit, indeed," Taehyung says, already drifting away. He closes his eyes. "I think I need another nap. My wrists hurt like a bitch."

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

Present time

Jimin purses his lips, indignant.

Taehyung nudges his ribs with a duster. "Well?"

 

 

Winter break slithers quietly as Taehyung and Jimin crawl through finals. When they do end up miraculously whole and sane, the sky decides to gift them with Seoul's worst blizzard since mid-20th century.

 

Taehyung takes this as a cue to jump into a mound of snow. He emerges later with an inflamed face and a declaration of, "My most recent exposure to extreme cold was sufficient in inducing selective amnesia via respiratory distress. In other words, I don't remember a single thing concerning molecular biology. In other other words, I'm free!"

 

"You won't forget to thank my genes, though?" Jimin sips on his warm milk tea, amused. He puts his mug down briefly to warm Taehyung's cheeks with his palms.

 

Taehyung sighs into Jimin's hands. "Thank you, DNA, for one hell of a combo of twin elliptic paraboloids. Otherwise known as Park Jimin's impeccable ass."

 

"You've got a great ass, too," Jimin laughs and steps closer to frame Taehyung's waist with an embrace. "Mm. Are you going home for the break?"

 

Jimin's met with a nuzzle of Taehyung's nose against his own tangle of locks. "Yeah, gotta help the folks in farmkeeping. Or something. Bad news is I won't have reception for two weeks, not until I go back to the city."

 

"I'll be here thinking about you and my nanophotonics paper," mourns Jimin. He smooths his thumb on the base of Taehyung's neck. "I'm gonna miss you a lot, Tae."

 

"If you drown me with all this grease I'm never gonna hightail it out of here," says Taehyung, pressing his lips on Jimin's forehead. 

 

"Which is exactly what I want, but we can't always have nice things. Shame."

 

Taehyung muses, blinking down at Jimin. "I can make it better for you, y'know. Have something to keep you company."

 

"What, like one of your stuffed toys?" Jimin furrows his eyebrows.

 

"No, I mean," Taehyung bites his lip in thought, "I mean, like a recording of my voice. Or a video. I can't Skype you and...we haven't, for so long."

 

"Haven't had sex, huh. So what you're saying is," Jimin drawls, "you technically want to film porn. For personal use."

 

"Technically," shrugs Taehyung. It's definitely not because he's contemplated about it before. It's most definitely not because he's been contemplating about it for well over a month since Jimin had sent a clip of him finishing the popsicles in the fridge before Taehyung could get home from the lab. Nope. "Unless one of us makes the stupidest slip-up of unintentionally uploading it...I think it sounds interesting."

 

Jimin's eyes crinkle when he smiles knowingly. "Nice alternative to furnaces when this way you can keep yourself warm in the current weather. Very creative, Tae."

 

Taehyung makes a gesture of wiggling his fingers, as though magicking something out of thin air. "Science."

 

"I'm on-board, then," Jimin clears his throat. He fiddles with the sleeves of his sweater, the one that Taehyung likes seeing on him because the neckline's offset to show Jimin's clavicles. "Anything special you wanna do?"

 

"Nothing, really, but I was thinking that maybe you could film and fuck me," Taehyung suggests.

 

Taehyung should've seen the spill of Jimin's milk tea coming. With his beverage continuing to drench the front of his sweater, Jimin coughs. "Well. Okay. That's reasonable."

 

"Tomorrow night, then?" Taehyung asks, grinning toothily. "My brain's still kind of a mush after all the exams and I'm sure yours is, too."

 

"Okay," says Jimin again. He's stunned. It must mean that the cogs in his head are viciously turning. "Okay."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Taehyung's thrilled, live wires thrumming and crackling in his fingers, under his skin. Residual epinephrine from the whirlwind of cramming and late-night studying has his blood pounding in his ears as he's sitting on their shared bed.

 

The door quietly creaks open, keys clinking against each other on a chain. "Hey," Jimin greets, a handful of grocery bags in tow. 

 

"Hey, babe," Taehyung smiles, leaning back on the pillows. "Got the batteries and all?"

 

"Yeah," says Jimin, unwinding his scarf. He's staring at the floor when Taehyung stands up and meets him in the doorway with an earnest hug. Jimin sighs. "You're leaving for Daegu next week, right?"

 

Taehyung breathes him in. "Yup. That's why I'm gonna make this good for you."

 

"Sure you are." Jimin grins wryly. "Wait for me for a little bit?"

 

"Mm, take your time. Want me to strip down, then?"

 

Jimin's gaze flickers with curiosity. With fire, and much more than that. "All the way. And don't touch yourself. Not yet."

 

"Got it," Taehyung replies breezily, pressing a chaste kiss on Jimin's cheek. For now.

 

He's perched on the edge of the bed minutes later, mussing his hair and periodically shifting to accommodate some warmth. There's a tingling on his spine that comes with trying something novel and - and yeah, Jimin and he - they'd been various people, been high school sweethearts who liked to discover what each other thought about and press buttons that didn't exist in the first place. They'd been stuck in a rut the summer of their graduation and they'd asked a lot of questions.

 

The answers hadn't always been all yeses. Taehyung's lucky that Jimin admits and acknowledges readily. 

 

College, though - college is a different matter altogether.

 

Perhaps it's the stress. Perhaps it's the fact that Jimin's invested in Applied Mathematics while Taehyung's close to groveling for his Biochemistry degree, and it takes a lot to figure out schedules whose lunch breaks coincided with each other. Perhaps it's the cut-down on their hours together, since Jimin rouses himself earlier in the day before Taehyung can even wake up, and Taehyung spends far too long hours at his research laboratory.

 

Perhaps it's only because Taehyung trusts Jimin so much that he even dares to have this kind of intimacy.

 

In the back of his mind, Taehyung thinks it's probably mostly just a huge, "Surprise, motherfuckers!" to the ones who'd believed then that they could only ever be best friends.

 

Jimin comes back to the bed with the camcorder all set, the most conspicuous bottle of lube that Taehyung's ever had the chance to see, and -

 

"Uh, Tae," Jimin starts tentatively, bottom lip caught between his teeth, "are you okay with wearing a collar?"

 

The collar dangles from Jimin's fingertips, a stellar black with a single silver hook in the center. 

 

"You don't have to, but," Jimin swallows. "I just thought it'd look good on you, baby."

 

Taehyung eyes its contours pensively. Jimin's always picked well for him. He can already sense its snugness around the base of his neck. "I think, I think it's fine."

 

"Alright," says Jimin breathlessly. He places his other items on the bed to fasten the collar around Taehyung's neck, careful not to brush his hands along his arms, along his waist. Taehyung's too riled up not to lean toward Jimin while he's fixing his collar and kiss him, open up his mouth with enthusiastic licks on his teeth. 

 

Jimin draws back, panting. He motions toward the floor. "I'll start filming, now. On your knees."

 

Taehyung acquiesces, hands clasped behind his back. When he looks up, Jimin angles the camera at him and presses on the 'start' button just as Taehyung inhales sharply. Jimin steps closer, and closer, and closer, until his clothed crotch hovers near Taehyung's lips.

 

"Tug the zipper down, babe," Jimin instructs, voice already husky from how much he wants. His jeans are already unbuttoned. "Tug it down with your teeth."

 

Taehyung shuffles forward and bites on the zipper. He tastes metal. Tongues it even more for the rust, the feeling. Jimin is quiet when Taehyung pulls it all the way down and begins mouthing at the apparent erection under his boxers, but Taehyung notices that his hands shake a little.

 

"So desperate already," Jimin manages a chuckle, urging Taehyung to help him shuck his jeans and boxers off. 

 

"Mm," is Taehyung's immediate response, too busy discarding Jimin's clothes and burying his nose in the gap between Jimin's thighs. He peers up, pupils blown from the heat of Jimin's skin, tongue stuck out obscenely. "Can I suck your cock, Jiminie? Please?"

 

Jimin shakes his head. "Not today, baby. Today it's all about you."

 

Taehyung blinks. "Huh?"

 

The recording doesn't halt even when Jimin uses his free hand to tip Taehyung's chin up. "I want to take care of you. Get on the bed, down on all fours. I want your ass facing the camera."

 

Taehyung's a little light-headed from being so, so close to having Jimin's cock. Maybe he'll deepthroat him next time. He settles on the sheets, forehead and forearms his anchor on the mattress as his legs fan out more. "Is this good enough?"

 

"Yeah," Jimin says, and Taehyung feels Jimin's palms smooth down the curve of his back from the lock of his collar. Jimin pauses at the base of Taehyung's spine. "So pretty like this, Tae. All for me."

 

Taehyung arches higher and swings his hips, thinking of the time when Jimin will finally have the time to watch this.

 

"Baby's got such beautiful skin, tanned and so fucking golden," Jimin continues. He makes a point to direct the camera at every inch of Taehyung's body.

 

It's reticent for a few moments until Taehyung is harshly yanked back by his hair. He gasps, cock brushing slightly against the covers. "Look at the column of your throat. If I could I'd leave marks all over you every week so they'd never have to disappear and you'll remember every single second of this. "

 

Taehyung whimpers, head cradled by Jimin's shoulder.

 

Jimin drifts closer, cock now nestled between Taehyung's ass cheeks as his hand curls over Taehyung's. "See, even your fingers - they're made for mine, Tae."

 

Taehyung sighs at the contact, lets himself be enveloped by grinding his hips against Jimin's.  Just when the pressure builds up, it's gone, dissipating when Jimin fucking moves away again. He lets out a frustrated groan and leans his cheek on the mattress.

 

"Tell me what you want," Jimin murmurs from behind. 

 

A million things. You know them all. "I want you, I want - I want your cock," Taehyung says, flushed. "Please, I want your cock."

 

"If I give it to you now it'd be too easy," Jimin replies in that ridiculously and rarely low voice of his. Fuck. Godfuckingdamn it. Taehyung closes his eyes as he ruts against the mattress, cock already dripping wet with pre-cum. He senses foreskin eased back by friction, by the sheets alone, but then -

 

But then there's the sound of a bottle cap being twisted. Taehyung's eyes flash open.

 

Jimin is efficient when it comes to prodding a slippery finger into Taehyung's ass, and then two, and then three. He curls them into Taehyung's heat when Taehyung's been stretched enough and he presses on his prostate. Hard.

 

Taehyung screams.

 

"Fucking incredible," Jimin trails off in reverence. The camera zooms in on the clenching hole. "You should see your ass, Tae. So damn pink...so damn eager to swallow my fingers. They just go right in. Like your ass was made to take cock."

 

"Yes, yes," moans Taehyung, pushing back onto Jimin's fingers as his thighs quiver.

 

Jimin takes his fingers out slowly, hushing Taehyung as he exhales heavily at the emptiness.

 

Taehyung's waiting for the crude noises of Jimin slicking himself up, vigorously working his cock up and down before he can fuck Taehyung properly. He's waiting for the crude noises yet there's...there's none, and he swears to god that he'll just push Jimin down on the bed and film himself while riding him -

 

"Oh," Taehyung's shoved forward by the blunt force of the lube bottle being pressed directly into his ass, rim fitted into rim so, so perfectly. The contents spill inside of him generously, some trickling down the inside of his thighs. All etched into memory by the ongoing video recording. "Oh, oh, fuck."

 

"I asked you about what you want," Jimin tells him, shoving the bottle further and squeezing most of the the lube out. He wonders if Taehyung feels full yet. "I know you want a lot. Case in point - you like it wet. Very, very wet."

 

"Oh, god," Taehyung sobs, nails raking down the sides of his head, tangled into the covers damp with sweat and drool. With every surge of wetness into his ass, his cock drips even more. 

 

Jimin withdraws the bottle and catches some of the lube that drips out of Taehyung. He swipes it moderately along his shaft, breath hitching irregularly. "Keep it in for me?"

 

It doesn't register - none of it does. Taehyung's face-down on the bed and he's close to jerking himself off but he just -

 

"Want your cock," Taehyung chokes on garbled syllables as tears cloud his vision. His ass flutters with excess lube leaking out. "Please, baby, just fuck me with your cock -"

 

"Want it that bad, huh," groans Jimin, stroking himself faster, rougher. "Such a fucking slut for it. Bet you want it in you all the time."

 

Taehyung freezes. Looks up at the headboard, forehead glistening with a bright sheen. Slut, Jimin had said. He'd never heard that before.

 

Frankly, he wants to hear it again.

 

Jimin fortunately takes note of the way Taehyung becomes even more pliant, sticks his pert little ass higher in the air. "That's true, isn't it? You even like the sound of it, Tae."

 

Taehyung's silent, now, only rolling his hips down to seek some sort of relief. He finally heaves when Jimin slides home, fucking him in a long thrust that's accentuated by the squelching noise of lube continuing to dribble out of his hole. Jimin pulls back, grunting, and drives back in again in a quick, brutal rhythm that has Taehyung shifting forward and the bed trembling.

 

"Fuck," Jimin grips Taehyung's hip with one hand, "fucking amazing how my cock disappears into your ass."

 

"Harder," Taehyung spits out half-coherently, "come on, harder, please -"

 

"Say it louder," grates Jimin, "say it. Say you're a slut for my cock."

 

Taehyung loses his grasp on the sheets and allows himself to be maneuvered like this. Always like this. Only for Jimin. "I'm, ah, I'm your slut -"

 

"Louder, baby."

 

"I'm your cockslut, fuck," Taehyung grits his teeth. He's close - his vision's swimming and Jimin moves his hand for his fingers to fiddle with the hook on his collar. "I want your cock so much, please, fuck me harder, Jiminie -"

 

Jimin gives him what he deserves and bottoms out until the lube all over Taehyung's ass cheeks stick to his groin. He's the more vocal one when he's fucking Taehyung in drawn out intervals and with much greater force that the headboard ought to break. 

 

Taehyung cums untouched a few thrusts in, a visible shudder running down his entirety. He's half-conscious when Jimin pulls out, flips him on his back, crawls up his chest to tug on his cock once, twice until he cums all over Taehyung's face.

 

After that?

 

Taehyung passes the fuck out.

 

 

***

 

 

 

Present time

 

 

 

"We used up so many tissue rolls and I rekindled my love for bottoming on that fateful evening," Taehyung reminisces fondly, hand firmly fixated on Jimin's thigh despite Jimin's efforts to brush him off. "When do you think we'll break our recordbreaker tissue count?"

 

Jimin snickers and points toward the whole of their apartment. "For sex? Not now. But if you wanna try scrubbing the bathroom floor with Kleenex, hats off to you. You'll be legendary."

 

"Remembered for my contributions to unnecessary wastage," Taehyung adds thoughtfully. "Yeah, no thanks. I'd rather be a legend for being with you."

 

"Gross," Jimin says, averting his eyes. A little later, he can't help but stare back at Taehyung, whose hair now features migratory dust particles. To Jimin, he looks exactly like he did when they first sat together in a high school class. Those eyes of his - kaleidoscopic, mischievous, and brilliant - haven't changed at all. "You're so gross, why am I in love with you."

 

Taehyung presses his forehead against Jimin's temple. "In the very homo otp way, though?"

 

At first, nothing.

 

Then a smile teases the edges of Jimin's lips, and it blooms into a genuine grin.

 

"Yeah," Jimin says. He looks at their yearbook picture, at him tiptoeing to kiss Taehyung in front of their high school library. The graduating class stamped the photo with 'brotp of the year', and quite honestly, he didn't really care much back then. He doesn't really care much now.

 

Still. 

 

Game face on, Jimin thinks, grinning at Taehyung. They'd just have to keep on proving the rest of them wrong.