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“Heading out?” Jimin asks as Jin takes his coat off the hook by the door. He has a duffel bag slung over his shoulder and his round glasses perched on his nose. He looks like the lead in some kind of domestic drama, a lighthouse of calm, put-together good looks surrounded by the chaos of six other boys eating breakfast, bickering over cereal and milk and spoons.
“Yes, I have an appointment with PD-nim,” Jin says, shrugging on the coat.
“Is it anything serious?” Namjoon asks, swerving to avoid Hoseok as he dances past and knocking a glass off the table with his elbow. Yoongi catches it without looking up from his phone.
“No, just some paperwork we have to go over.” He pauses and looks around. “Jimin, Jungkook, do you think you could do the cooking for me? It didn’t turn out so bad on Christmas Eve. There’s chicken breast slices and a few cuts of beef in the freezer if you think you can handle it.”
“Jungkookie is actually a very good cook,” Taehyung says, spoon scraping against the bottom of his cereal bowl as he eats his cornflakes.
Jin fixes him with a Look.
“Not as good as you, hyung, of course,” he says, laughing nervously.
“That’s more like it.” He puts his hand on the doorknob. “Although—try not to mess around, you two. I’m sure none of us want our dinner seasoned with, ah…certain bodily fluids.”
Hoseok splutters as he chugs his coffee and Yoongi smirks at his toast. Namjoon glances up from inspecting the burned parts on his toasted waffle, expression mildly terrified. Jimin and Jungkook look like chastised children, cheeks burning as they stare at the table.
“I’m expecting an answer. No hanky-panky anywhere near the food,” Jin says sternly.
“Yes, Jin hyung,” Jungkook mutters.
“Good,” he says sweetly. “Be good children. Tell me if you ever need condoms or anything.”
He walks out the door, closing it behind him.
Hoseok sputters into fits of laughter, clapping Jimin on the back as he buries his head in his hands. Jungkook chews determinedly on his lower lip. But he catches sight of Taehyung, who stands up, dumps his cereal bowl in the sink, and walks away.
~
“Jungkook,” Jimin breathes into his mouth as Jungkook pushes him up against the counter, cooking duties forgotten, “Jin said no messing around.”
“What Jin doesn’t know won’t hurt him,” he mumbles into Jimin’s neck, catching the skin between his teeth and sucking hard enough to bruise. Jimin makes a muffled cry against his closed lips as he spreads his legs a little wider and Jungkook’s fingers burn into his hips. Jungkook’s shirt is already off, tossed carelessly on the countertop along with Jimin’s, and Jimin is going crazy with the skin-on-skin contact along their chests and bellies.
“Jungkook,” he gasps, tangling his hands in his soft, feathery black hair. Jungkook bites at this throat. “We’re in front of a window.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Jungkook licks into the hollow of his collarbones, thumbs rubbing circles above his hipbones. “No one’s looking.”
“We’re idols, we can’t…” Jungkook slips a hand under the waistband of his pants. “Kook.”
“I’m not moving.” He moves his mouth away from Jimin’s chest, and the loss of heat and wetness is so disappointing that Jimin tugs at his hair, making an ugly harrumph. “If we move, we stop.”
Jimin huffs. “Why?”
“I want you like this.” He nips and kisses his way down Jimin’s stomach, the hand in Jimin’s pants infuriatingly still. “Nervous. Flustered. Anyone could walk in.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s an exhibitionist kink,” Jimin pants as Jungkook stops right above the waistband of his jeans, mouth sinful and lips soft against his skin. “Imagine that on billboards across the nation and all over Naver. ‘Jeon Jungkook of BTS Has An Exhibitionist Kink—Likes Giving Blowjobs In Front of Windows, Says Superstar Idol’.”
“Who says I’m giving anyone any blowjobs?” He flips them both around so his hips are supported against the countertop and Jimin is standing in front of him, so quickly that Jimin doesn’t have time to blink. Jimin stumbles and falls against his chest. “You’re sucking me off, not the other way around.”
Jimin sighs. “Fine.”
He leans in. He likes doing things slow. Jungkook kisses him for a while, lips leisurely and soft, a hand splayed out over the small of his back keeping him in place. The soft sounds of their mouths moving against each other lull Jimin into a trance. He lets his hands wander over Jungkook’s body, resting his thumb in the ridge beneath Jungkook’s jaw where his pulse beats, tracing his fingertips over the bumps and dips of his abs. The sunlight coming in through the window hazes everything into soft prettiness, golden against Jungkook’s eyelashes as they flutter over his cheeks. Jimin thinks he’s never seen anything more beautiful than sunlight on Jungkook’s bare skin, dappling his shoulders and back and neck, warming it.
And then Jungkook’s hand in his pants shifts, cupping Jimin and tugging. Jimin forgot it was there. He tries to ignore it, but Jungkook runs a fingertip all the way from the base up to the head, deliberately slow, and Jimin can feel his soft mouth curving into a wicked smile against his.
“Okay, okay, fine,” he says hurriedly, before Jungkook can get any more ideas. Jungkook smiles lazily and leans back, bracing his hands on the countertop. Jimin’s still determined to do it slower than Jungkook does, so he kisses at his neck, hands flat on Jungkook’s chest. Jungkook closes his eyes, lashes like dustings of ash on his cheekbones.
“You never bite me,” he says, eyes still closed, as Jimin licks at his Adam’s apple.
“I don’t like to.” Jimin looks up at him, mouthing at his throat. His eyes are half-open, little watchful crescents looking down at him. “I’m afraid I’ll hurt you.”
“I don’t mind if it hurts.” Jungkook tugs at Jimin again, a silent sign for him to move on, and Jimin moves down his sternum. “I’d like it if it hurts.”
“That’s not the way I do things. Also, imagine: ‘Jeon Jungkook of BTS Has Previously Undiscovered Pain Kink’.” His teeth scrape over a nipple as he moves down, and Jungkook tenses all over, then shudders. Jimin blinks in surprise. “What’s this?”
Jimin licks at it, attaching his mouth and sucking, and Jungkook makes a desperate sound, shifting away from the counter so he can push his hips into Jimin’s. Jimin tries to draw away, and Jungkook chases after him. “Are you kidding me? Do you have a nipple kink, too?”
“You know how Jin hyung wakes me up,” he says, stumbling over the words as Jimin bites lightly at the nipple. Experimenting.
Jimin does. It only takes a few seconds for Jungkook’s eyes to fly open and his entire body to writhe away after Jin reaches down and pinches his nipples in the morning.
“I do.” He reaches over to pinch at the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers, and Jungkook makes that sound again—a kind of ragged whimper. His hand tightens around Jimin in his pants, making Jimin bite down in surprise. “God, you’re so sensitive.”
“I’m sorry,” he says, but his voice is too high-pitched to make it sound sarcastic.
Jimin reaches down to yank Jungkook’s sweats down, still working at the nipple, and is surprised to feel a sticky wetness soaking through the fabric. “Are you actually gonna come soon?”
“I don’t know, I—” He breaks off in a frustrated groan when Jimin moves away from his nipple with a final suck. Jimin surveys it with satisfaction. It’s erect, dark against his pale skin. “Don’t stop.”
“I can’t have you coming so early,” Jimin says, grinning angelically at the sweaty wreck of a man in front of him. “I like to take things slow, remember?”
Jungkook growls, pulling his hand out of Jimin’s pants to tangle them both in Jimin’s hair. He pushes him down forcefully to his knees on the tile floor. Jimin is growing to like the sting at the roots. “Tease.”
“Hmm.” Jimin thumbs at the faint line of hair running from his belly button to the waistband of his boxers—black, of course. It’s probably a weird thing to do, but he leans forward and kisses Jungkook’s navel.
“Why do you have this weird obsession with my belly button?” Jungkook accuses while he looks down at Jimin, still looking put out. “Do you stay up at night searching up pictures of belly buttons to get off to? Do you have a kink for all belly buttons?”
“No, just yours.” Jimin follows Jungkook’s happy trail with his tongue. The hair rasps under his tongue. “It’s so perfect.”
“I’m gonna pretend that that doesn’t weird me out.”
“Shut up or I won’t suck you off.” He leans back a bit. Jungkook’s boxers are tented, his cock straining against the black cotton. He sucks on it through the fabric, making Jungkook’s hips jump restlessly, and reaches up to dig his thumb into a nipple. He’s rewarded with a spurt of wetness darkening the cotton.
“A-ah,” Jungkook gasps out when he does it again, hands yanking on his hair hard. “Jimin.”
“Poor baby and his sensitive nipples,” Jimin say, smirking up at Jungkook just to be a little shit.
Jungkook glares down at him. “Get away from me.”
“I don’t think you want that.” He tilts his head and attaches his mouth to the outline of Jungkook’s cock through the fabric again, sliding his mouth up until he reaches the head. He wraps his lips around it and sucks as hard as he can, and Jungkook’s cock twitches, sending another salty burst into his mouth.
“Oh, fuck me,” he whimpers, throwing his head back.
“Maybe later,” Jimin says around him.
He gets a hard tug on his hair in reply. He laughs, hooking his thumb into the waistband of Jungkook’s boxers and drawing them down. Jungkook’s cock springs out, flushed red and curved against his stomach, leaking on his own skin.
“Pretty,” Jimin says, wrapping his hand around it and pumping a few times. The vein throbs against his palm.
“Did you just call my dick pretty?” Jungkook groans, hips jerking upward into his hand to meet his strokes.
“Yeah.” Jimin leans forward and takes him in, flattening his tongue and opening up his throat, and Jungkook whines. His hips jump erratically when Jimin hollows his cheeks, sucking and swallowing him back.
Jimin has come to love giving blowjobs (no pun intended). There’s something irresistible about how he never has quite enough air, the slide of a cock against his tongue, the slight twitches it makes against the back of his throat. He even likes it when Jungkook grabs onto his jaw to keep it open and fucks into his mouth, his moans reverberating around the room. Jimin feels filthy afterward, come in his mouth and eyelashes and hair, Jungkook’s chest heaving above him. Used. But he likes it.
Jungkook’s nails are digging into his scalp. He’s not going to last long and Jimin knows it. He always makes those helpless, huffing little whimpers, half-muffled like he doesn’t want Jimin to hear them, probably because he wants to come off as manlier than that. But Jimin doesn’t mind. He finds it adorable, like Jungkook still hasn’t gotten used to pleasure after all these years.
And then a door opens behind them. “Jimin, I was wondering whether—”
Silence. Jungkook’s eyes snap open, and Jimin freezes. He turns slowly, Jungkook’s cock slipping out of his mouth, and sees Taehyung, standing motionless in the doorway with an expression on his face as if he’s just witnessed a horrific accident.
“I’m sorry,” he says, backing out. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt anything—”
“Come join, Tae,” Jungkook says, and Jimin shoots him an alarmed look. Why not? Jungkook’s expression says as he looks down at him.
Taehyung looks terrified. “No, no, I have stuff to do, you two get on with it—”
“Yeah,” Jimin says slowly, catching Jungkook’s eyes. “Come join.”
Taehyung hesitates. “Are you actually serious?”
“Do we look serious?” Jungkook says.
Taehyung blinks at them. “I walked in on Jimin blowing you, so to answer your question, no, you do not look serious. Not very much at all.”
“Well, we are,” Jimin says while Jungkook frowns and tries to process this. “We want you to join.”
Taehyung hovers uncertainly.
~
“Hands and knees, Tae,” Jimin says into his mouth. Taehyung’s still a good kisser, and he seems better than Jimin remembers now that Jimin knows how to appreciate it—the way Taehyung swipes his tongue over the corners of his mouth, the way he bites at his lip to speed things up.
It was strange watching Jungkook and Taehyung kiss, Taehyung’s long fingers wrapped around Jungkook’s cock. They were hesitant at first, but from the way they were going at it after a few minutes, Jimin suspects that it wasn’t the first time they’ve been together. He makes a mental note to ask them about it later.
Jungkook whips a bottle of lube out of nowhere while Taehyung arranges himself on the ground. Jimin and Jungkook already managed to strip him down in record time.
Jimin shoots him a puzzled look. “Did you just conjure that out of nowhere?”
“It was in my sweats,” he says smoothly.
They look at Taehyung for a while, who stares at the ground, embarrassed. Jungkook traces a fingertip up the middle of his back, making him shiver.
“Something’s missing,” he says eventually.
Jimin blinks at him.
Jungkook rummages in his sweats for a while and then pulls out…a blindfold?
“Do you have an entire sex shop in there?” Jimin asks him, indignant. “Why the fuck do you even carry that around in your sweats?”
“I’ve always wanted to try it someday,” he says, bending down to tie it around Taehyung’s eyes. Taehyung kisses clumsily at his palm as he finishes, his vision stolen from him, and Jungkook smiles almost absentmindedly.
Using only sign language to preserve the spontaneity, Jungkook manages to direct Jimin to stand in front of Taehyung’s face. He stands behind Taehyung. Taehyung startles when he smooths a hand down his back.
Jimin kneels and kisses him for a while, letting Taehyung slip his tongue into his mouth and nudge his chin into his jaw. “Relax,” he whispers, and he stands up.
Taehyung’s only blown him once. He remembers it well: it was in the shower, with Jimin’s back pressed against the cold, wet tiles, his cries echoing around the cavernous bathroom as Taehyung sucked him off for all he was worth. They never had to be quiet in Taehyung’s house in those days. Taehyung said his aunt had soundproofed the bedroom and bathroom without needing to be asked.
The warmth and wetness and pressure had blown his mind (again, no pun intended). It was a whole new world of pleasure, and when Jimin fell asleep that night he dreamed of waking up to Taehyung between his legs, blowing him and holding his gaze the whole time the way only he can.
His alarm woke him up before he could come. Jimin had to jerk off in the shower, trying in vain to hold the image of dream Taehyung sucking him off in his head, muffling his moans in his fist. The walls in his house are far from soundproofed. When he came down, his mom gave him a strange look like she knew what he’d been doing, but she didn’t bring it up.
He’d meant to ask him for another blowjob. But somehow or another, it never happened.
This all flies through his head as Taehyung takes him into his mouth, tongue flattening against the base. Taehyung is still so fucking good at blowjobs that Jimin wants to scream. He knows how to use his wide mouth to its full potential, and he has this way of looking up at Jimin the whole time from beneath his lashes which makes the heat build faster in his stomach than anything else.
Well…maybe it can’t beat watching Jungkook finger himself in his lap, moaning filthily like a pubescent teenager (which is, incidentally, what he is). But it’s close.
When Jungkook pushes into Taehyung, he groans around Jimin. Another reason Jimin loves being blown by him so much is because he has such a deep voice. That means that the vibrations when he moans are almost twice as strong. That means that Jimin has to dig his fingernails hard into Taehyung’s scalp and curl his toes against the floor to distract himself and stop him from coming right then and there.
Jungkook rocks his hips into Taehyung, a hand on Taehyung’s back to steady himself. “He likes it harder,” Jimin tells him, and he slams into Taehyung. Taehyung makes a desperate whimper, swallowing his spit back around Jimin, making Jimin’s fingers tighten in his hair.
Jungkook beckons him closer. Jimin leans forward and they kiss above Taehyung’s back, tongues sliding over each other, hips jerking into Taehyung. Jimin has always thought threesomes were fiddly and hard to maneuver, but goddamn was he wrong.
Taehyung comes first, surprising considering Jimin’s already sucked Jungkook off until he nearly came before. It only takes a few strokes after Jungkook reaches down around his body and wraps his hand around Taehyung until Taehyung is groaning desperately around Jimin, one hand fumbling up Jimin’s leg so he can dig his fingers into his hips. Jimin hisses at the scrape of his fingernails, holding onto his hair so he can keep his head steady as he fucks into his mouth. He comes only a while after Taehyung does, release spilling down his throat. He swallows every last drop.
Jimin pulls out and kneels to kiss Taehyung for a while, the taste of his own come on Taehyung’s tongue sinful and filthy. He stands and traces his finger through the sticky mess on Taehyung’s belly, sliding it into his mouth to have a taste.
Taehyung collapses onto his elbows. Jungkook is pounding into him so hard now that the slap of skin on skin fills the kitchen. Taehyung is yelping into his forearm at the oversensitivity, fists clenched, but Jimin can tell from the curl of his toes that it’s the kind of pain he likes.
Jimin can see when Jungkook comes. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, and there’s a few seconds after his mouth falls open before the groan trips out. He rolls his hips into Taehyung, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows, and then he pulls out. There are ten perfect red crescents on Taehyung’s ass where his nails dug in.
Taehyung falls on his side, chest heaving. Jungkook bends and unties the blindfold, depositing it on the counter, and lies down next to him on the floor. Taehyung rolls onto his back and stares at the ceiling, breaths loud and gasping in the silence of the kitchen as Jimin stretches out beside him as well.
The cold of the tile floor is soothing on their heated skin. Jimin turns on his side and slings a leg over Taehyung’s hip, drawing patterns in the mess on his stomach. Jungkook’s eyes are blinking more and more slowly, his breaths evening out. Jimin feels drowsy listening to the rise and fall of Taehyung’s breathing.
The door flies open. Again.
“What did I say about bodily fluids?” Jin shrieks, groceries tumbling from his arms like rain as they scramble to cover themselves.