Chapter Text
Instead of waking up to the warmth of Jimin’s arms, Jungkook wakes up in an empty bed. The sheets next to him are still warm, and he smiles faintly at the sound of his boyfriend’s voice in the other half of the suite. He stretches out his body, sitting up and glancing over at the view of Seoul waking up to begin its day. He doesn’t bother sliding on any clothing, skin smooth and bare as he walks out into the lounge of the suite.
Jimin’s on his phone, stirring sugar into his coffee. His expression makes the rockstar smile, recognizing the stern furrow of his brows and the pout on his lips. Despite how adorably disgruntled he looked, Jungkook knew whoever was on the other side of that phone call was getting chewed out.
“They can’t wait another day? The band is leaving in the morning anyway.” Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose, still not having seen Jungkook creep into the room. The younger man takes advantage of this by sneaking up behind him, tattooed arms wrapping around his waist. He was wearing Jungkook’s shirt, fabric loose on his shoulders. He can feel Jimin stiffen for a short moment before a gentle hand reaches him to pat on Jungkook’s hip.
“This is absurd,” Jimin says through gritted teeth. “Fine, I’ll talk to them. I’ll fly out tonight to show them we’re serious.”
That makes Jungkook pause. So whoever Jimin was on the phone with was on his side. If he was this stressed out speaking to someone he agreed with then things really were bad. He makes a soft noise in sympathy at that and begins to pepper kisses down the slope of Jimin’s neck.
The manager sighs and tilts his head back to provide the man with more room. The lax reaction Instantly has Jungkook’s cock twitching with interest against the small of Jimin’s back, greedy hands sliding over his hips and down to cup at his clothed crotch. There wasn’t much fabric there, just his underwear and Jungkook’s shirt. Easy access, he thinks. Perfect.
Jimin hisses and mumbles something into the phone, Jungkook too focused on the way his boyfriend’s cock began to fill up under his hand.
“I’ve gotta let you go,” Jimin gritted out before he hung up the phone, tossing it onto the counter where his coffee sat forgotten. He spun around in Jungkook’s arm, delicately pushing at his shoulder. The taller man didn’t waver for a second, squeezing him closer as he slotted his lips back against his skin. “Jungkook. What was that?”
“You seemed stressed,” Jungkook comments simply against his throat. His large hands squeezed where they settled on Jimin’s ass after he spun around. “I thought I’d make you feel better.”
“While I was on the phone?” Jimin challenges, but when he pushes Jungkook away with enough force this time, he can see the flicker of mischief in his brown eyes. “Go on then, get on your knees and make me feel better.”
It’s silent in the hotel room as the two men stare at each other. Jimin’s words aren’t overly commanding, but there is something in them that makes Jungkook’s skin feel like it’s been set ablaze. Something akin to a challenge.
“Make me,” he blurts out before he can help it. Jimin freezes instantly. It feels like static electricity is zipping between them, Jimin’s eyes dark and heated as they look at Jungkook’s naked frame up and down in a way that makes him feel like prey.
“Jungkook,” Jimin starts, low and warning. “You want-”
“You to make me, yes,” Jungkook replies, a feral grin on his lips. “Not like that, If I say no or stop then listen to me, please. But I like when you make me do things on your terms.”
It’s possibly the most communication he’s ever had with his dick out, completely unused to laying out what he wants from the person or having them do the same. But strangely, it’s not a turnoff. If anything, he finds it a little thrilling to lay out his desires and know that Jimin could do what he wanted with them.
Jimin stares at him for a long moment before he nods, reaching a hand up to card into Jungkook’s hair. He massages at his scalp and twirls his hair in a way that has the younger man melting, slumping down to nuzzle his face into his neck. This was nice, he could do soft again.
Except, the second he thinks that the hand in his hair suddenly fists around a chunk and pulls him down to the floor. Jungkook’s head is slung back and tears prick at his eyes from the pain to his sensitive scalp. He forces himself to open them only to find Jimin looking down at him with a fond tilt of his head.
“Cute,” Jimin mumbles, almost as if it was meant for his ears alone. “I’ve scored myself a spoiled brat, haven’t I?”
“Surprised?” Jungkook challenges, only to be met with fond laughter and the hand in his hair tightening.
“Not in the slightest,” Jimin hums before his free hand grabs the base of his half-hard cock and smacks it against the younger man’s cheek. “You say stop and we stop, you say slow down and we slow down, and if you can’t say those things then you tap me. Got it?”
Jungkook can hear the seriousness in his voice, he knows how Jimin took every confession of not feeling like he owned his body to heart. He can feel the love and concern radiating off of Jimin in waves, and maybe that’s why he feels safe enough to let down his guard in a way he never had before. Maybe that’s why he nods with sparkling, big eyes and smiles before he says “Yes, Daddy.”
Once he is given permission, Jimin seems to click right into his role. His lips twitch with a hint of a smile at Jungkook’s words before he strokes his cock to full hardness. The sight makes Jungkook’s mouth water, lips already parting and leaning in to lick at the tip, but Jimin pulls him back by his hair.
“You really are spoiled,” Jimin muses with a mumble. “Be a nice boy and beg for it.”
Instantly Jungkook scoffs. “I don’t beg.”
“You do now,” Jimin challenges with a sickeningly sweet tone and taps the head of his cock on Jungkook’s pouty lip. “Now beg. Before I bend you across this counter and send you on stage tonight with a red ass.”
That makes Jungkook’s leaking cock twitch against his thigh. He inhales sharply at the imagery of being on stage with a fresh spanking, feeling it in front of thousands of people who had no clue what had happened to him earlier in the day. It was an intriguing thought, one that tempts his rebel streak. But the narrowed eyes he is given at his hesitance make him sit up straighter within seconds.
“Please let me suck your cock,” he pleads, giving him puppy dog eyes to drive the point home. “I’ll be a good boy for you, Just please give it to me.”
That seems to win the manager over. His eyes go dark once more, a tongue swiping out to wet his plush lips. Jungkook parts his own, his tongue hanging out as he waits for his mouth to be filled. Jimin pushes his hips forward to rub the leaking tip of his cock across Jungkook’s tongue before he finally steps forward to push all the way in.
One of the more gratifying things about being someone with as much experience as Jungkook is that he doesn’t gag even as Jimin’s cock hits the back of his throat. His stomach flips with the temptation to do so but he forces himself to inhale through his nose, his tongue curving and twisting around the shaft in his mouth.
Jimin finally pulls him up by his hair before pushing him back down, controlling the pace from the get-go so the only thing Jungkook can do is take it. Drool already begins to leak out of the corners of his mouth but he pays no mind, instead relaxing his throat and sneaking a hand down to fist at his own cock.
“Such a pretty mouth,” Jimin grits out as he thrusts his hips up into his mouth. “Making me feel so good, Angel.”
While Jungkook was far from an angel and had the mouth to prove it, he relished in such warm compliments. He opened his watery eyes, tears sticking to his lashes as he looked up at his boyfriend. He bucks up into his own hand as Jimin throws his head back and curses, teetering on the edge of an orgasm just as the satisfaction of pleasuring the older man.
Jimin’s thrusts grow more erratic by the second before his hips stutter all together. He folds over Jungkook’s head with a groan, the rockstar gagging for the first time as he comes down his throat. Jungkook fists his cock tighter, twisting his hand over the tip before he chokes around Jimin’s cock as he comes himself. His vision nearly blacks out and when it comes back he coughs wetly as Jimin pulls out and kneels down beside him on shaky legs.
“Are you okay?” the manager asks gently, a hand reaching up to tuck long strands of black hair behind his ear.
“I’m fine,” Jungkook responds, glossy eyes going wide when his voice is hoarse.
“Shit, your voice.” Jimin rubs over his face with a sigh. “I should have thought about that. Here, let’s get you in bed. I’ll order some tea. Just...don’t speak. You should rest your voice as much as possible before the show tonight.”
Jungkook wants to protest, knowing his throat has been in much worse condition before a show. But the way Jimin pulls him up to his feet and doesn’t hesitate to guide him down the hall by the hips has him feeling taken care of in the best way possible. He slips into bed easily and watches as Jimin races to get a bottle of water and sits on the edge of his bed, dialing the phone.
Jungkook watches fondly as Jimin orders room service, the slightest hint of an American accent in his words. He leans over and presses a kiss to the manager’s shoulder before he is instantly drawn into an embrace. Jimin crosses his ankles at the end of the bed and Jungkook rests his head on his chest, messy hair being twirled around the older man’s fingers.
“Was everything okay..? I know you didn’t tap me, but did you enjoy everything?” Jimin asks softly, a hint of insecurity in his voice. It makes Jungkook's heart pound in his chest with adoration, the rockstar surging forward to capture his lips in a kiss.
“It was perfect,” he says, wincing at the sound of his own voice. “I’m trying to work on my thinking when it comes to the entitlement to my body, so thank you for encouraging boundaries.”
“Don’t thank me for being a decent person,” Jimin protests and kisses the top of his head. They sit in silence before the older man frowns. “I have to fly back to LA tonight after the show.”
“I figured something like that was happening based on the phone call,” Jungkook replies, kissing the center of his chest in return. “What happened?”
“Seokjin and I have been talking about starting our own management company. You’d still have the same label for music distribution, but you might have more control over scheduling without your current management.” Jimin smiles faintly and ruffles his hair. “They found out and are not happy with me. After all, they hired me with the help of your label to get you back on track so they can get back to making more money. I don’t see why I would put you in the position to be exploited and left to the wolves of the media with no protection, though.”
“So you’re flying back to talk to them?” Jungkook asked, voice rattling. Jimin hadn’t broken any laws or breached any contract, but he was taking a big risk with this. Other management teams and labels could see him as a threat to their contracts with their artists and not seek him out for his services anymore. This wouldn’t be an issue if the management company he planned on starting with Seokjin worked out...but if it didn’t then he could screw himself out of a lot of future clients.
“Yes, just showing them that we are serious. And that they’ve already lost you guys management wise, so we won’t be afraid to get rid of them on this distribution side and go somewhere else if they don’t get their shit together.” Jimin grins as he speaks as if he isn’t casually talking about risking everything he worked for. “I’ll be back for your show in Bangkok.”
Jungkook nods. Three days, then. He could handle three days alone.
“Hey,” Jimin said seriously, breaking him out of his thoughts. “You can do it, I know you can. Besides, Seokjin is already organizing things so that you and the guys share the suites for the next couple of nights.”
“So...I won’t be alone?” Jungkook asked, ashamed of the hopefulness in his voice.
“Not unless you want to be,” Jimin reassured him and leaned in to kiss his forehead. “Now stop talking. I don’t want to go down in history as the man that ruined Jeon Jungkook’s voice.”
Encouraged by the positive response from the night before, Jungkook does get a little more daring for the second show in Seoul. He holds on tight to the chair in front of him as Namjon pulls at the laces of his corset, the black fabric a stark contrast from the tanned, bare skin of his torso. Was he really shirtless if he was covered from ribs down, though?
“How are you going to breathe in this thing?” the drummer grumbles, tying the laces into a bow at the base of his hips.
“Sexiness first, breathing second,” Jungkook replies as he stands up straight, leather pants squeaking as he walks over to put on his boots. He’s nearly Namjoon’s height in them and positively towers over Yoongi.
Yoongi, who curled up like a cat on the sofa of the glam room, black eyeliner smearing against his hand and Hoseok curled around him. Jungkook rolls his eyes fondly at them, the action silent but caught quick enough that it makes Namjoon laugh.
“First I’m the only straight one, now I’m the only single one. I feel very out of place in this band,” he jokes, and Jungkook smirks, sliding into his lap.
He wraps tattooed arms around his neck and leans in to nuzzle his nose against Namjoon’s cheek, despite his protests. “I can ask Jimin if you could join our throuple. We’re very welcoming.”
“No, I’m not,” a voice deadpans from behind them and Jungkook turns his head to find Jimin. The man is wearing a taunting smile, sauntering closer to press a kiss to Jungkook’s lips. “Mine.”
“Yours,” Namjoon confirms with a nod, Jimin’s eyes lighting up with amusement. “If I had a girlfriend like Jungkook I think I’d have grey hair from the concerts alone.”
“Hey, I’m a great girlfriend!” Jungkook screeches, thick brows drew forward, and lips pouting.
“Yes you are,” Jimin replied with a chuckle, small hands coming to grab him by his defined waist to pull him off the drummer’s lap. “It’s only day one and I'm already the luckiest man in the world.”
Jungkook curls into Jimin easily and hides his giggles against his neck when he hears Hoseok’s hushed whisper of “Did he just call himself Jimin’s girlfriend? ”
“Just wishing you luck tonight,” Jimin mumbles. “Not that you need it.”
Jungkook grins, confident in his own ability for once. He kisses the older man indulgently before he pulls back. “I’ll be okay, go to the hotel and finish packing. I’ll text you when I get off stage, you won’t be in the air yet, right?”
“Nah, we don’t fly out until a little after midnight,” the manager explains.
It’s a somber moment between them as Jimin is told his car arrived to take him back to the hotel. It was only three days but Jungkook still missed him. Getting to spend every day with the person you were falling in love with was a privilege that he had grown used to. To have that taken away made his heart ache in his chest. It must be written all over his face because soon there is a hand cupping the back of his head and soft lips pressed to his own.
“Make me proud out there, Rockstar.”
The concert had gone incredibly well. The fans had even more energy than the first night, screaming and chanting until Jungkook was in tears on stage. It felt electric, like all of the moments of his career, had been waiting for this. They were proud of him, they loved him.
Thousands of people surrounded him and they celebrated Jungkook, in all of his masculinity, femininity, and purely Jungkook-ness. They didn’t care about the headlines of the past or the people who would never let go of that image they had of him in their heads. He didn’t have to be wasted to have them chant his name, he didn’t have to be anyone else.
He chokes his way through the encore, practically sobbing into the microphone which only resulted in the crowd screaming louder. His head turns fuzzy as he feels arms wrap around his waist as the last song finishes and the stadium goes dark. He nuzzles into the warmth, fluttering open his teary eyes to find himself pressed against Hoseok’s chest. Deft fingers card through his hair as he sobs, and before he knows it he finds himself on his knees.
He can hear the people who haven’t left the stadium yelling through the silence of his in-ears, and when they are pulled out he trembles from the pure volume of it all. Warmth surrounds him and he looks up through bleary eyes to find himself surrounded by his bandmates. His family.
“I did it,” he gasps, feeling one of the hands-on his shoulders squeeze. “They love me, right?”
“They always have, kid,” Yoongi says gently, his cold hand reaching up to wipe away his tears. There were tears in his own eyes too, startling Jungkook. “They always have.”
Jungkook paces on the hotel balcony. He’s slightly chilly in his T-shirt and a pair of boxers, phone sitting in his hand. Seoul is lit up beneath him and he admires the lights as the phone rings. It only does so twice before he hears a click.
“Jungkook? Why aren’t you in bed, Love? I figured you would go to sleep after you texted me. You’ve got a flight in the morning.” There is such concern in Jimin’s voice that it makes Jungkook smile, eyes flickering to the clock inside that indicates he would in fact have to be up in four hours.
“I missed you,” he says gently, and it’s silent before he hears a delicate sigh on the other line.
“I miss you too, I watched some videos of the show tonight. I wish I could have stayed.”
“Did you see the end?” It’s quiet again, and that’s enough of an answer to Jungkook. “They were happy tears.”
“I had a feeling,” Jimin muses, sounding as if he was almost smiling. “I’m glad you had the guys there.”
“Yeah, me too.” He glances back inside the door, finding all of his bandmates and even Seokjin laid out in the two queen-sized beds that they had pushed together. They originally had two rooms to share, but after the concert, they decided to take a trip down memory lane and share one room like they had when they first started out. Of course, this room was a million time’s nicer than Seokjin’s first apartment, but the feeling was largely the same.
“Are you okay?” The older man says into the phone and Jungkook startles, nearly forgetting he was on the phone.
“Yeah, I’m tired though. I just wanted to call before you flew out.”
“I’m glad you did,” he replies and the rockstar grins. “I’ll text you when I land. I’m proud of you.”
Jungkook puts a hand on the door handle and takes one last look out at the cityscape in front of him, glossy tears gathering in his eyes for the millionth time that night. “I’m proud of myself, too.”
He tiptoes through the bedroom, the soft glow of TV light illuminating the sleeping figures. He probably should crawl up in bed and squeeze into whatever space was left to sleep, but his emotions still crashed around inside him like waves on the shore. He didn’t even really know why he was so emotional. But staring at the men in front of him he felt almost choked with it. Like all the feelings inside of him were bubbling up and threatening to pour out.
In a way, they’d raised him. Of course, he loved his parents, but once he had joined the band they became his first home. Moving across the globe only solidified that.
He could still remember the disappointment in their faces when he had first walked into that conference room after the Grammys. He’d never seen them so… devastated. Even the anger in Yoongi’s voice wasn’t cold, it was mournful. They had watched the kid they had raised destroy himself and could do nothing to fix it.
He wasn’t sure how they did it, how they still loved him and stood by him when he clearly didn’t do the same for them. He was selfish, beyond that. But they never punished him for it. Maybe they felt guilty, in some backward way, for moving a sixteen-year-old kid to the US. Maybe they felt responsible. The thought makes him frown, wondering just how badly he put the people he loved through it out of his own self-hatred.
He hoped that they were proud of him. They seemed like it, at least. The last few months before he got sober it felt like they didn’t even know one another. It hurt, to get off stage and go straight to the bar knowing his bandmates and Seokjin were laughing together on the ride home. He’d refused to acknowledge those thoughts by the end of it, and it wasn’t until he was threatened with ruining their careers that he remembered how it felt to care about other people.
Before he knows it he grabs Hoseok’s guitar bag from the corner of the room and walks out into the living room of the suite. He curls up on the sofa and unzips the bag to pull out the acoustic guitar, holding it to his chest.
It feels foreign, to play the guitar without aiming for anything specific. As if he had never written a song before. He hums along until his fingers fall back into the habit of the craft that had once meant so much to him. He closes his eyes, knowing the tears are falling as the words tumble from his lips.
The melody didn’t match quite perfectly, but he couldn’t stop now if he tried. He hadn’t written so long that he felt everything bubble up to the surface like it had been waiting for him to pick up a guitar.
He sings about them, how much he loved him, how sorry he was, how they made the best parts of him. Everything he wished he could tell the men asleep in the other room. He chokes back the sobs as his fingers fly across the fretboard, and it isn’t until he runs out of breath by the end of it that he hears a creak in the floorboards.
He looks up with a start, inhaling sharply and scrubbing the tears from his cheeks. Yoongi stands leaning against the doorway with his arms across his chest. His hair is a mess from sleeping and his eyes are narrowed, but he seemed shocked into silence.
The two men stare at each other until the bassist’s eyes flickered down to the teardrops sitting on the wood of the guitar.
“You wrote a song,” he observes, a low rumble to his voice. “Is it for the album?”
“No,” Jungkook mumbles, looking down shyly. “It’s just for you. All of you.”
This makes Yoongi smile, the older man walking across the room to sit on the sofa. He pulls Jungkook back until his spine is aligned with Yoongi’s chest. His small chin hooks over his shoulder in the embrace. “What’s it called?”
“Begin.”