bts: head first and no regrets

[rustle]

head first and no regrets
— Jimin/Jeongguk. NC-17. 10200 words.
— there are pros and cons to working with jeon jeongguk, jimin believes. on the cons, in increasing order of importance: jeongguk comes to work late 75% of the time, it takes jeongguk approximately an entire hour to boot his brain, and jeongguk always asks for extensions. on the pros, however... jeon jeongguk might as well be the 'pro', himself. (Also available on AO3 and Livejournal.)

☆ this fic was built on the premise of this line that has been swimming in my mind for days now – "our jiminnie works so hard!" was supposed to be built on that, at least, but then Feelings happened and this Thing turned into... passionate lovemaking. and rina dearest, i know i promised full on thigh-fucking but um. yeah. happy belated birthday, jimin? ;; /waves pompoms, anyway

☆ that said, many thanks to bts corner, adele, chels, and shii for untiringly cheering me on as i cried over porn! ♥ for maximum feels, please listen to kodaline's one day. title taken from walk the moon's aquaman.

The reality is that for all of Jeon Jeongguk's being a complete pain in the ass, asking for deadlines to be pushed back by hours, days, sometimes even weeks, he's still one of the best designers Jimin has ever worked with. Or the actual best, given that Ogilvy's creative team is two parts a bunch of assholes who don't know what deadlines are ("End-of-day? Close-of-business? What's that, food?" "If it were food then you probably wouldn't ignore them!") and one part a group of reliable designers who can dish out powerful visuals despite tight timings and impossible expectations from clients. If they are inspired, at least, but, half the time, Yoongi's too high on caffeine and whatever it was he'd sniffed the night before to even function before three in the afternoon. And of course, if you have a boss like that, it's difficult to get oneself out of bed by eight in the morning and to get one's brain working by nine. Expecting someone from the team to come in before ten just in time for an eleven-in-the-morning deadline is just asking too much. Jimin heaves a sigh. He cracks his neck, sniffles as he wraps his blanket around himself even more and grumbles at the insanely cold temperature in the creatives' area. To Yoongi's credit, his works have always been top-notch, the type that can move even the most emotionally-detached of people to tears, but more often than not Jimin doesn't need just a tear-jerking piece, or design so inspiring it can make the clients shell out more money than they would usually be willing to. He needs to meet tight and crazy deadlines. He needs quality work delivered to his lap in the blink of an eye. And he needs someone to help him make the impossible happen. He doesn't need theatrics – he can pull off shit like that with his eyes closed and do a one-man show in front of prospective clients just to win a business. What he needs is actual output to pacify agitated clients with, one email at a time. Such is the life of an account executive like him. And such is the life he has chosen to lead for the past five years that he's been working (or, in Taehyung's kind words, 'been a slave to') in Ogilvy. "Alright, slave driver hyung," comes Jeongguk's voice, rough and low in the thick silence of the workplace. Jimin looks up from where he's been staring at dust mites, lifting his eyebrows when Jeongguk lets out faint laughter. Jeongguk sounds like he's wheezing, trying to cough out whatever had gotten stuck in his throat the entire hour he'd kept quiet as he worked on visuals due the following day, but for the most part he still sounds like the same 'bright and young Jeon Jeongguk' who had walked past the glass doors of the office two years ago. He still sounds like he's up to no good. "Here are your precious social posts for tomorrow's bitch." "Pitch, Jeongukkie. Pitch," Jimin corrects, voice thinning to laughter as he inches closer to where Jeongguk is. He reaches over, lowering the brightness of the monitor with a few clicks, then makes himself comfortable in his seat again before getting straight to work. Jeongguk works wicked fast and produces great designs, but from time to time he'd miss minor builds from clients and the accounts team. And when that happens, it's another hour of revising and polishing designs. It's another hour spent working in the silence of the office, the sides of their thighs glued together as Jimin studies two things – the visual Jeongguk is finalizing and perfecting, and the subtle movement of Jeongguk's lips that speaks more than Jeongguk would ever tell. "Oh, good that you made the logo a bit bigger. I mean, I was okay with the teeny tiny version but you know clients and their thing about mega branding–" "Same thing, though," Jeongguk mutters after a while, rubbing the underside of his nose. He looks like a kid about to throw a tantrum, or a cuddly koala looking subtly asking for a belly rub. The first thought that occurs to Jimin is cute; the second, can I take you home? "Pitch is a bitch." Jimin snorts. "It's the bitch that keeps the company alive." Jeongguk rolls his eyes and slumps in his seat. The dim yellow light in the room catches on the tip of his nose, the curves of his cheeks, before dropping to his collarbones and casting him a sickly glow. Right now, with only a few inches between them, he looks like he's aged by at least half a decade in the past two years that he's been with the company. The only thing that's softening the hard-angled shadows on his features is the way his bangs fall over his eyes. Then there's the way he breathes out in a heavy, heavy sigh, like he'd been carrying the weight of the world for the past hour and he's just too tired to press on with the same load. "The same bitch that wears us out all the fucking time, yeah." Jimin leans back a little. In all twenty-four months that he has worked with Jeongguk, he's only ever heard the latter complain about certain things, none of them far off from each other – crazy deadlines, lack of free food from the account executives when the team has to render extra hours because of numerous job orders and requests, clients having zero taste when it comes to design but acting like they're an encyclopedia of art. Yoongi's fedoras and the fact that Yoongi has at least a dozen of them all in the same color and style, and the 'sad reality' that half of Jeongguk's brands are handled by Jimin. "Can't you give me a different AE? Like, someone who actually feeds me during overtime?" Jeongguk had mentioned one time, and Jimin rose to the challenge and bought him tteokbokki, a waffle sandwich, and a bottle of energy drink. Jeongguk's first reaction was, "Are you planning to give me more work? Because it looks like you're preparing me for more days like this." His second, "And oh, uh, thanks. I... have the posts ready, by the way. The GSK ones, I mean, not the ones for Unilever. I just... haven't sent them yet." "Oh, you mean everything's–" "In the sharing drive, actually. Too big. I... didn't want to clog your email. Or mine, in case the thing got... stuck there," Jeongguk had muttered, then rubbed the tip of his nose. There was a smidgen of strawberry cream on the corners of his mouth. Jimin wasn't sure if he wanted to reach over and brush the cream off with his thumbs, or if he wanted to move even closer and lick them off of Jeongguk's lips. Or both. Or not, argued a voice at the very back of his mind. There were items in his to-do list to cross off and a pile of work to be done, and none of them were Jeongguk. "Yeah. So I– I just– I figured it we sent them to client at once, way ahead of time, they'd think we can do rush work for them all the time and they'll dump their requirements on us at the very last second all the time and–" And Jeongguk didn't have to explain. And Jimin could have stopped him, could have said, Cool, kid. Thanks for thinking about my inbox, but it wasn't everyday that Jeongguk dropped hints of concern that weren't just sprinkles of affection here and there. And hell if Jimin was going to let that pass. So he listened, studied Jeongguk's expression as Jeongguk twisted his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows and huffed until the last dregs of his speech were no longer dangling from his lips. "Just... managing expectations, that's all. And doing your job. You should be paying me for this, you know–" "Thank you," Jimin had said, then looked around for an audience. Yoongi was still in his seat, reading the script he'd developed for the first web series the company was going to create, and Namjoon was too busy finalizing artwork for billboards. Jeongguk was... busy fumbling with the hem of his shirt. They were alone, in a sense, but it wasn't as if Jimin was hoping they would be. He just needed to know if they were the only ones crazy enough to still be working at such an obscene hour. And if anybody would give him a weird look if he offered to take Jeongguk home at two in the morning. That was something good account executives did, right? "Do you... need more food or something? Drinks? A pillow? Or-or a ride home later? Since we still have to do mocks for the app?" Jeongguk had blinked twice, then heaved a sigh. The look on his face was... different, almost unreadable, but it wasn't as if Jimin had spent hours studying Jeongguk's features. He was just good at reading body language, that's all; Jeongguk's, in particular, he already had memorized like the back of his hand. "A ride home would be great, thanks." So he takes a deep breath now before leaning in, testing the waters and seeing if the slightest movement will cause a ripple strong enough to make Jeongguk inch away. Jeongguk doesn't budge, though, remains curled up in his seat, breathing soft and even and his lips parted just slightly. He isn't asleep yet, Jimin knows, but he looks like he's just seconds away from passing out, from submitting to the fatigue caused by the 'bitch of a pitch' that they had been working on for the past few hours. He looks as if he won't bite at the slightest touch anymore, like he's inviting Jimin to come closer, come on, hyung, if you want to hear more, just come closer– "Work," Jeongguk growls, then chuckles. The corners of his lips are curled up into the nastiest shit-eating grin, but Jimin can make out the soft gaze through his bangs, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes bringing back the peculiar glint that Jimin thought Jeongguk had already lost the day he rendered extra hours at work for the very first time. And he can feel the cold pads of Jeongguk's fingers on his skin, tapping a slow beat on his knee through the material of his pants. It sounds a lot like rock and roll. "You still have to diss on my designs before we can go home and sleep." "We?" Jimin gulps hard. Jesus, Jimin, it's just a fucking pronoun, grumbles a voice at the back of his mind. It's not a confession. Get a grip. He's no copywriter to breathe meaning into a syllable. He's an account executive and he's supposed to be making sure that Jeongguk hasn't missed any of the builds and comments he'd sent earlier, not trying to study the wicked grin on Jeongguk's lips. He's supposed to be making sure that the designs are aligned with the brand and not if their bodies are in a perfect fit. He's supposed to be fulfilling his part of the deal, doing his job instead of dwelling on the way Jeongguk hasn't stopped drawing figures on his knee yet – spirals, clouds, stars. Three dots each an inch apart, then a heart. "I was... actually planning to stay overnight and get shit sorted out since–" "And present tomorrow looking like that?" Jeongguk scoffs. He gives Jimin a once over, gaze lingering on the dip of Jimin's shirt, then he's reaching out to thread his fingers through Jimin's hair. He doesn't ruffle it, doesn't even try to mess it up, but instead he curls his fingers at the base of Jimin's nape and smoothens the unruly tuft with his free hand. Part of Jimin wants to lean into the touch, forget that it's already late in the evening and they still have work to accomplish before midnight sets in in earnest, but he knows better than to tip over and crash into Jeongguk without preamble. Jeongguk plays by a set of rules that only make sense to him, and Jimin's never been much of a rule-breaker. Outside the office, maybe, where there aren't privy eyes to catch them during their unguarded moments, like this, but trapped in the four corners of office building, he's left with no choice to pull away. So let me, Jimin wants to argue when Jeongguk keeps him in place with a shy yet steady grip. Let me do my job, let me go, leave me be– but Jeongguk's still busy undoing the little knots in the strands of his hair. His eyebrows are caught in a light knot and his lips are pursed in concentration and there's a small smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth like he knows he's won this little game of theirs again, this push and pull and pull some more that Jimin so desperately tries to triumph over every single time. And, "This is ridiculous," Jimin whispers, because what else is there say? Jeongguk's being weird. His insides are lurching. They're the only living, breathing creatures in this office and if Jeongguk really wanted to just tease him and push him away in the end, then he would have already done so minutes ago. But they're still here, three, four safe inches apart, just a breath away. "Not a chance," Jeongguk breathes out, voice barely above a whisper. He brushes his thumb along Jimin's lower lip, then drops his hand to his thigh. Jimin can see it, the question scrawled all over the gentle tilt of Jeongguk's head, and then more in the way Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump forward, leaning closer but not close enough for their foreheads to touch. It feels a lot like a dare, another test, like Jeongguk's drawing lines upon lines of boundaries between them and challenging him to dance along the thin strands. Let's see if you can do that without tripping and falling hard. But then Jeongguk hovers a little longer and all of a sudden everything feelings like an invitation. Temptation. "I'm not letting you make a fool out of yourself in front of those people–" "Why do you care?" Jeongguk looks up, eyes wide, dilated, almost unguarded. Times like these, Jeongguk looks like the fresh-faced twenty-four year old who walked into the office years ago and sucked in his bottom lip the moment Jimin welcomed him with a sleepy smile. Jimin had just come from overnight work then and he was aware he could have scared off the new kid, but no, Jeon Jeongguk wasn't that weak. Jeon Jeongguk was better than that, would prove to be tough enough to work for hours on end just to get the job done. So instead, Jeongguk peeked at him through the slits of his bangs seconds after, cheeks flushed and a small smile teasing the corners of his lips. "Jeon Jeongguk, new hire," Jeongguk had said as an introduction. His hand was soft and warm. Jeon Jeongguk, the bane of your existence, said a voice at the back of Jimin's head. Jimin said nothing, though, and gave Jeongguk's outstretched hand a tight squeeze. "Well, the name of the company's at stake," Jeongguk replies in an instant, not missing a beat. He takes a deep, shaky breath, shoulders lifting in the slowest, most torturous manner. Then Jeongguk thins his lips into a straight, straight line, lower lip quivering under the pressure. Jimin has seen this look on Jeongguk's features too many times already – when Jeongguk misses a tiny detail in his designs and finds it only when he's already staring down a magazine advertorial in full color, when Jeongguk misses emails labeled 'urgent' and has to render extra hours on top of the ten he already clocks in with on a daily basis, whenever he screws up and he knows there isn't anything he can do anymore but to look to Jimin for answers to questions he doesn't even know how to ask. Only this time, Jimin doesn't have answers. All he has are more questions, realizations. "And you're presenting my design–" And they must have done this at least a hundred times already, this sick tug-of-hearts, and on all occasions Jimin had only ever come out bruised and beaten up, strings of questions leaving red marks on his skin. On all occasions, Jimin had only ever walked away from the fight with his body sore from Jeongguk's soft, tentative kisses – to the forehead, the tip of his nose, his cheek, sometimes even the back of his hand when it's three in the morning and Jeongguk's too tired to go home or pull up his walls. Then there are times when Jeongguk would tilt his head and suck on the underside of Jimin's jaw when he was feeling particularly victorious about their most recent business win and he had to share his happiness with someone. (And it had to be Jimin. It always had to be Jimin.) Then he would coax Jimin to just drop the shields, drop the weapons to the floor, his arms to his sides so Jeongguk could color his chest with soft red patches through the light suction of his lips. Three in the morning and the only thing that was pushing them apart was hesitation and the irrational fear of falling. That would always, always be the case. So Jimin takes the leap, curls his fingers around Jeongguk's wrist and tugs at it, forcing Jeongguk to look up at him. "Bullshit," he grumbles, then tightens his hold on Jeongguk even more. Never mind that his palms are sweaty and that he's shaking all over; he can always use fatigue as an excuse. Surely, a weary heart is the best pass he can use to bail himself out of trouble. "You don't do this with Taehyung or Jin-hyung or–" "They're not you." Jimin takes a deep, shaky breath. Touching, is his first thought. His second, bullshit. Whoever uses that silly excuse must be too lazy to come up with an honest explanation of his feelings or whatever it is taking root in his body. And Jeongguk's almost always lazy when it comes to the most important things: trying not to leave marks on Jimin's skin when he bites down too hard on Jimin's shoulder as Jimin fists his cock or shallowly fucks him with three fingers, trying not to be too kind and considerate when he tells Jimin shortly coming, "Let me– Let me help–" Remembering to take care of himself so he doesn't get sick, so he can come in day after day after day and stay long after he's rendered eight work hours and offer help whenever Jimin needs to most. Then, underlined twice, trying not make Jimin's heart skip a beat whenever he looks over his shoulder when he's already supposed to be walking away. "That's it? That's your reason?" Jimin scoffs. He can taste blood and metal on the roof of his mouth, can feel his throat become tight and his chest grow heavy. And he can feel Jeongguk's pulse quicken where he's gripping him, can see Jeongguk shifting his gaze everywhere but on him. "You don't play with them because they're not me?" "It's–" Jeongguk shakes his head. "Look: it's not a game. It's never been a game–" "Then why the hell do you care so much?" Jimin blurts out, voice cracking even before he can finish. Jeongguk's eyebrows twitch. It almost feels like a victory, but Jimin isn't sure if he wants to take home the medal this time. "Why the hell do you always want to win?" "Because you're you," Jeongguk breathes out, syllables tumbling from his lips one after another. His chest is heaving and his lips are parted and he looks like he's run a thousand miles just to get here, just so he can inch even closer to Jimin without making Jimin flinch, run away. "I care about you showing up to your meetings looking so harassed because I know you hate looking any less than your best. I care about you not getting enough rest because that means you getting sick and you getting sick means you blaming yourself again and again for things out of your control. And that's just stupid, you know that? It's fucking stupid because not everything's your fault, hyung. Shit just really happens sometimes. And when it does–" "You kiss me," Jimin says, voice barely above a whisper. He looks up, meeting Jeongguk's careful gaze, and all of a sudden everything hits him hard, like taking a punch straight to the gut, then to the heart – Jeongguk claiming he'd forgotten to send an email and slipping back to his station so Jimin could ask him for help at nine in the evening, Jeongguk handing him an untouched bottle of energy drink because It's gonna expire tomorrow. Wouldn't want it to go to waste, yeah? Jeongguk staying in the conference room with him as he worked on his presentation deck for the Unilever pitch, cold, cold fingers dancing on his thigh and keeping awake until he was done creating multiple back ups of the file and bragging to Jeongguk again and again, Ah, isn't hyung great? Don't you think hyung will do well tomorrow, mhmm? Aren't you proud of me? Jeongguk laughing and rolling his tired, weary eyes, but not saying 'no'. Jeongguk sliding an arm around him and pulling him closer until he was resting his head on Jeongguk's shoulder. Waking up to Jeongguk whispering, "It's showtime, sunshine boy. Get up," to Jeongguk's dreamy, unguarded smile. And Jeongguk looking around for an audience to plant the softest kiss on his lips before saying, "Go, kick some ass. Make me proud, hyung." "Well, yeah. That," Jeongguk mutters. He drops his gaze to where Jimin's holding him tightly, to his knees, then to his feet. Jimin can still make out the faint blush on his cheeks, though, the hint of fatigue in the dark circles under his eyes, the shy twist of his mouth when he says, "And that you should just let it go and be a bit... kinder, to yourself? If that makes sense? Because hyung, there are only so many things you can control." Jimin gulps hard. It's coming, now, he can feel it, the raucous laughter from Jeongguk, the teasing as Jeongguk slaps his thigh with one hand and says between hiccuped giggles, Hyung, you should've–You should've seen yourself! You looked hilarious! And he can feel his chest constricting even more because he knows he's going to lose again and he hates it. He hates keeping his hopes up only to end up crashing to the ground in a loud thud. He hates coming so close to victory only to trip on his own feet and fall flat on his face. And he hates Jeongguk even more – for staying so dangerously still, serious, sincere, for being honest now when he's expecting Jeongguk to say, Hah! Joke's on you! For being right in saying, there are only so many things you can control, hyung. So let go. Be a bit kinder to yourself and just let go. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have–" Jeongguk shakes his head and waves his hands in front of himself. He does this when he's nervous or uncertain. Or both. He'd done it right before he grabbed Jimin by his shirt and pulled him close for– "Just– Forget it. I missed a couple of things, right? Just list them down and I'll work on them in order and–" And Jimin leans closer until their foreheads touch, until he can feel Jeongguk's words fading into the air prickling his cheeks. The tips of their noses graze each other, just a brief, feather-light touch, and Jeongguk gulps hard like he isn't used to this – the space between them, their shared warmth, the fact that Jimin's splaying his fingers on Jeongguk's chest and that Jimin's pulse beats strongly on his skin. But this isn't the first time they're kissing each other. They've already done this at least a hundred times that Jimin can map out the wicked contours of Jeongguk's mouth just from memory if he wanted to. Still, Jimin asks, "Can I kiss you?" in a voice so soft, he could have just been breathing. Jeongguk peeks from his bangs, sucks in his bottom lip, and Jimin feels his breath catch in his throat. Can I keep you forever? Jimin looks around for an audience. Jeongguk laughs a little, pinches Jimin in the stomach because, Hyung, everyone's gone home hours ago. It's just us here. We're in our own, little world. We're safe. Jeongguk giggles until Jimin presses his lips on his own in a soft, tentative kiss, muffling the sound, breathing Jeongguk in. It feels strange to be testing the waters like this, to be sliding his hands up Jeongguk's chest like he's memorizing the little bumps on the expanse of Jeongguk's skin, to be leaving teasing licks at the corners of Jeongguk's mouth instead of crushing their lips together in a heated, unruly kiss. It almost scares him a bit, the way Jeongguk sighs into the kiss and finally, finally, finally parts his lips like he's been waiting for this for so long – for the heat of Jimin's mouth to seep into his own, to get a taste of Jimin after a long day at work, to be so close to each other again after pushing and pushing and pushing each other away because every minute they spend together is a step closer to temptation – but Jimin pushes all his fears to the back of his mind as he sucks on Jeongguk's bottom lip, as he licks his way inside Jeongguk's mouth and reacquaint himself with its wicked contours. Jeongguk threads his fingers through Jimin's hair and pulls him close, close, closer, onto his lap, until they're chest to chest. Jimin can feel the loud, heavy thumping where they're pressed to each other, can feel Jeongguk's hands tremble against his skin. And he can feel a dull ache in his back, making him shiver. The fit is a bit weird, almost painful, but nothing he can't can't manage – he leans back a little and sinks deeper into Jeongguk's lap until Jeongguk's chasing after his lips with little nips, soft bites on the corners of his mouth that bleed onto the underside of his jaw where Jeongguk sucks marks on his skin. For a second, he thinks of pulling away, of reminding Jeongguk that he has a presentation tomorrow, nine in the morning, and the marks and scars will stay there long after pitch is over, but he's never seen Jeongguk want him, need him this much. He's never seen Jeongguk so willingly surrender. "If they ask," Jeongguk whispers, pulling away for a second to breathe before pressing another kiss to the slope of Jimin's neck, leaving light, teasing sucks in a neat, neat line. His breath parts from his lips in little gasps, in whimpers of stay, stay and Jimin's name so soft on the corners of his mouth. "–why you have marks–" "Hickies." "Bite marks," Jeongguk counters, then lightly sinks his teeth in Jimin's skin, just enough to make him gasp and grind against the burgeoning heat between Jeongguk's legs. Jeongguk bucks his hips into the touch, and Jimin feels a prickling heat crawl down his abdomen. Every touch feels so unrehearsed, so juvenile, so electric that Jimin fears he might just tip over too soon. Lose himself in the moment and do something he might regret, like blurt out words that have been threatening to fall from his lips for months, since the day Jeongguk absentmindedly threaded their fingers together and didn't let go until minutes after, when breaching personal space was no longer an issue. "If they ever ask, tell them things got a bit rough last night–" "A bit rough?" Jimin teases, laughter catching on his throat when Jeongguk bites on his shoulder a bit too hard. It's going to sting until the morning, he knows it. Jeongguk's touch will haunt him until the next time they come too close to each other and lose control, but part of him likes the feeling of raw desire and desperation in the way Jeongguk rakes his teeth along his sensitive skin. He likes the marks. And he likes knowing that Jeongguk likes them, too, as Jeongguk beams at the red patches blooming on his skin. "Just a bit too rough?" "I... don’t break the things I love," Jeongguk whispers against the slope of Jimin's neck, rough lips leaving a trail of goosebumps where his warm mouth used to be. Jimin feels his insides lurch – at the thick blanket of cold settling on his skin that Jeongguk has just conquered, at the shy, tentative brush of Jeongguk's palm against his crotch, at Jeongguk's words, he isn't certain. All he knows right now is that his chest feels too tight like he's held in his breath for too long without him noticing, and that Jeongguk's next juvenile kiss, the next wild, wicked touch will be game over. And yet it feels a lot like victory. "And if I do, I... try to put them back together." Jimin gulps hard. Between the two of them, he's always been the one better at words, giving direction, saying exactly what he wants and how he wants it, but right now it feels as if Jeongguk has stolen each and every single word threatening to spill from his lips the same way Jeongguk has snatched all the air in his lungs away. Unfair, half of him thinks, murmurs, grumbles; the other half whispers, what do I do with you? Here Jeongguk is, all of his walls down, coaxing him to come closer, and all he can think of is crossing the finish line with Jeongguk lagging behind because Jimin's pushed too hard, pulled too close, broken rules that Jeongguk has set and getting carried away. All he can think of is screwing things up, making a mess of their already tangled limbs, finally getting what he wants only to lose it even before he can hold it close to his chest. He's not used to this whole 'happy ending' thing. In fact, he doesn't even like endings at all. "You think too much," Jeongguk whispers, then leans even closer until their lips are touching again. This time, he cups Jimin's cheeks, pulse beating strongly against Jimin's soft skin, and leaves teasing licks along the seam of Jimin's lips until Jimin's opening up, tilting his head back, throwing all caution to the wind and giving in. This should be the part where Jeongguk drops his hands to Jimin's hips and blindly undoes the zipper of Jimin's pants, but none of that – Jeongguk takes his time tracing the slope of Jimin's neck with his fingers, lauds the column of his throat with kisses and licks and soft sucking that leaves Jimin's thighs quivering in delight. Jeongguk takes his time undoing the buttons of Jimin's shirt, pushing at the buttons one by one and grinning into the kiss as they come off. It's as if he's giving Jimin options, a way out, a chance to inch away. A reason to tell him, I'm not stupid. Who the fuck would even do that, except Jeongguk gives him no time to think as Jeongguk his polo off his shoulders and maps out a kiss-stained path down to his nipple. "Stop thinking and start doing." "I can't. It's–It's my default," Jimin manages, choking on his own breath as Jeongguk wraps his warm mouth around Jimin's nipple. "I figured," Jeongguk mutters, pulling away briefly as he laughs. "If you used your heart as much as you used your brain, hyung, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have had to ask me 'why'." Jimin groans. "You're hard to figure out." "Maybe, for some," Jeongguk confesses, then presses a light kiss on Jimin's chest. Jimin's breath hitches when he feels Jeongguk's hot breath curling around his nipple, when he feels Jeongguk running a hand down his torso but stopping just short of his pants. "But not for you." "Whatever," Jimin whispers, but soon he's choking on his own words as Jeongguk bucks his hips against him. The first thing that occurs to him is fuck pants, fuck clothes, fuck everything keeping them getting too close; the second, we're not going to do this out in the open, are we? But Jeongguk has long stopped caring about the numbing cold, the darkness crowding in on them, about limits and restraints and the strain of grinding against each other in a cramped, cramped space. So he does his part, trails his hands down Jeongguk's chest and slips trembling fingers beneath the material of Jeongguk's shirt. He can feel the quick shifting of Jeongguk's muscles, the way they tense at the first touch then melt against his skin at the second. The way Jeongguk's gasps into the kiss when Jimin runs his thumbs along Jeongguk's nipples as he pulls Jeongguk's shirt overhead, and the way Jeongguk grips him tightly by the thighs and ruts against him in long, hard thrusts. "Can–" Jeongguk gulps loudly when Jimin tilts his head and wraps his warm lips on Jeongguk's ear lobe, sucking lightly before leaving soft, gentle nips on the sensitive skin. Jimin pulls away, more to tease than to let Jeongguk speak, but Jeongguk's quick to catch on and latches onto that split-second of surrender. "Can I, please–" "You've been touching me inappropriately for eons now," Jimin whispers, chuckling, but cants his hips until he can feel Jeongguk's warm palm on his crotch, stroking him leisurely before undoing his belt. "And you still feel the need to ask?" "Just wanted–" You, always. "–to make sure–" Jeongguk yanks at one end of the belt and drops it to the floor, then smooths his palms along the curve of Jimin's ass. His hands are still trembling, shaking under the weight of Jimin's soft skin, of Jimin grinding against his warm palm like he cannot wait anymore. But they've always rushed into things, trapped each other against the wall with steady grips and confident kisses that they never had time to study each other's bodies, every curve and slope and marks and moles scrawled on each other's skin. It's high time they slowed down and mapped each other out with shy touches, kisses. It's time they stopped and watched each other breathe. "Because sometimes, you look as if you'll run away even before I can fuck you." He probably means, you look as if you'll fall even before I give you the green light, before I'm ready, Jimin thinks. He can't say Jeongguk's wrong, or that you're lying, stop that. Stop fucking around with me. Part of him has always been a bit uncertain if he wants to be more than just too close for comfort but not quite intimate. But the part of him that knows better, the part that knows all too well that Jeongguk whispering into his ear, Tomorrow, hyung, tomorrow, we'll see each other again is the song that sings him to sleep and promises him better days to come, or that Jeongguk's playful teasing and light pinches on his cheeks are what get him through the toughest of times, keeps telling him to take the fucking leap and just drop all his apprehensions to the ground. So he slides off his pants at Jeongguk's request, at Jeongguk dipping his fingers beneath the band of Jimin's pants and tugging them down just before slips off of his clothing. And when Jimin pulls away so he can shuck off his trousers the rest of the way, he leans back in as quickly as he can and reaches over for a kiss. "Not running away anymore," he whispers, then settles back into Jeongguk's lap. Jeongguk chuckles, laughs, voice so soft he could've just been whispering, but there's no mistaking the small smile on his lips as he marvels at Jimin's body, as he sculpts Jimin's torso with his hands and pulls Jimin closer in one swift motion. The friction of their bodies is prickling, electric, and the goosepimples on Jeongguk's skin haven't waned since they've been skin on skin, but Jimin likes this distance, likes that if every fiber of control in his body snaps and tells him to do the unthinkable, all he has to do is to lean closer and muffle those three words in Jeongguk's warm, willing mouth. "Ever." "Good, because I'm–" Jeongguk chokes on his own breath as Jimin parts his legs, as Jimin shifts a little and dips his hand between his thighs so he can reach for Jeongguk's hardening cock and give it a nice, easy stroke. On a normal day, Jeongguk wouldn't make a sound even if Jimin was already stretching him open with three fingers and rubbing slow, soothing circles on the tip of his dick with Jimin's thumb, but this time Jeongguk doesn't hold back. He whimpers when Jimin pulls his hand away but breathes out a shaky sigh when Jimin touches him again, fingers warm and trembling against his sensitive skin. "Not letting go so easily," Jeongguk manages after a few quick breaths, then he's kissing Jimin as if to avenge himself. Like he's saying, You can't do things like that without warning, Park Jimin. You can't just take my breath away and parade around the room with my heart in tow. "Kinda creepy," Jimin teases, then gives Jeongguk's cock a lazy tug. Never mind that his own dick feels so hot and heavy against his stomach, or that Jeongguk's rutting against him, impatient and wild and wanting – he wants to hear more of those soft whimpers, of Jeongguk humming his name under his breath like a prayer, of Jeongguk asking him to please, please, please touch me some more, hyung. So he tightens his hold on Jeongguk's dick, turning soft, careful touches into long, drawn out pumps. "What will people say if they hear–" "Don't care. I'm a crazy, possessive boyfriend," Jeongguk mutters. His voice cracks when the tips of their dicks touch, when Jimin grips him a bit too tightly at the prickling sensation. Heats blooms in Jimin's abdomen and shit, Jeongguk looks beautiful like this, lips swollen and parted, hair sticking to his face, to his skin, eyes fixed on nothing, no one else but Jimin as he says, "Yours, I mean." Jimin has seen Jeongguk with all his guards down before, has seen him more wrecked than he is now, but Jeongguk has never looked at him like this, like he'll burst into flames if Jimin doesn't fuck him harder and explode if Jimin does. Jeongguk looks like he's seconds away from begging for release yet here he is, pinning Jimin with a focused gaze and words more prickling than the sticky slide of their skin. "Your crazy, possessive boyfriend." "I–" Never thought you'd be this possessive, never thought you'd want me this much, never thought I'd get my happy ending, but hey, Jeon Jeongguk has always been a mixed bag of tricks and surprises. And Jimin loves surprises more than long, client-free vacations. The feeling of Jeongguk's dick sliding between his thighs, even more. "I–" "–am thinking too much again," Jeongguk teases, thinning his voice in a way that, he's aware, will tick Jimin off enough to earn him a jab to the gut or a pinch on the arm. I don't sound like that! I'm not whiny! Jimin would say, would twist Jeongguk's nipples through his shirt as some weird invitation to the stock room later, eight in the evening, don't be late, but Jeongguk gets none of that. Jimin can't even feel anything but the friction between his palm and Jeongguk's skin, the thundering pulse along the vein on Jeongguk's cock and Jeongguk's heavy panting against the slope of his neck. Still, Jeongguk leans in for a kiss even before Jimin can utter a word or make a sound, presses his lips to one corner of Jimin's mouth, then the other, dragging them across Jimin's own as if in an attempt to silence Jimin. He pulls away for a second, taking a deep, shaky breath, then he's saying, "And I don't know how you can think at all when you're sitting on my dick, but seriously, just–" "Just focus on you?" Jimin tries. He gives Jeongguk's cock a slick twist, shivers when he feels Jeongguk's thighs shaking against his own, then breathes out, "On... us?" Jeongguk nods. He gulps hard, screws his eyes shut, and that's enough an answer for Jimin to press on, to pump his hand up and down the length of Jeongguk's dick at the same time that Jeongguk rolls his hips, craving more contact. It's almost surprising, the way Jeongguk's voice loses its usual confidence and cadence and thins into soft whispers, whimpers of Jimin's name where he has his lips pressed to the underside of Jimin's jaw, so Jimin savors every single moment of it, every hitch of the breath and tiny, indiscernible moan and groan and jerk of Jeongguk's hips. He can feel the strain on his muscles already, on his hands trembling around Jeongguk's cock, scrambling for purchase as he feels his arousal growing heavier between his thighs, and– "Can I?" Jeongguk chokes out, tapping Jimin's thighs and peering through the narrow slits of his bangs in question. His gaze is heavy, almost clouded, but Jimin can still see himself reflected in Jeongguk's eyes, can still feel Jeongguk inching closer and closer and even closer like he means to drink up every inch of Jimin, means to breathe him in. And it's ridiculous because the fit of their bodies already feels more like limbs wrestling for space and comfort than anything else, but Jeongguk makes it work somehow, fastens his palms on Jimin's thighs and gives them a gentle squeeze as he says again, "May I?" You're crazy, is Jimin's first thought; his second, and so am I for not pushing you away yet. And that makes me crazier of the two of us. He nods and takes a deep breath, then leans back a little and rests the balls of his feet on the seat just behind them. He cants his hips, then, gently lifting himself off of Jeongguk as he pulls away. Cool air scrapes against his back, making him shiver and almost lose balance, but Jeongguk goes for the save and scoops him in his arms. It's a nice contrast to the numbing cold, to the thin sheet of goosebumps crawling up his spine, so he relaxes against Jeongguk's touch in a brief respite before sinking his ass back onto Jeongguk's lap. He can feel the slide of Jeongguk's cock between his thighs, can feel the hot, sensitive skin brush against his own dick, can hear Jeongguk's breathy sighs and moans and questions in the way his lips tremble. Jeongguk can be asking, Is it okay if I go harder, faster? or Does this make you feel good, as well? because for all of Jeongguk's casual indifference when it comes to most things, he isn't as heartless as he seems. He cares more about others than himself, whether Yoongi has already had coffee or not or if Namjoon has actually had breakfast before reporting for work because sometimes ideas are enough to tide him through the first few hours of laboring over brands. He cares more about whether or not Jimin isn't missing any visuals for his presentations, or if Jimin hasn't forgotten to at least drink water after four hours of non-stop work. He'll put himself last if he can, and take solace in the fact that people can't see through the thin veil of detachment he pulls up whenever he finds Jimin staring at him longer than usual. But Jimin knows him, the shape of his body, the inner workings of his mind and the words he'll never say. So he does Jeongguk a favor and snaps his thighs even closer together as he lets Jeongguk guide him up and down, working a steady rhythm on Jeongguk's cock. He can feel the thundering pulse of the vein along the shaft of Jeongguk's dick, can feel his thighs quivering at every long and hard thrust, can feel his arms giving away slowly but surely, but Jeongguk helps keep him steady, keeps his eyes locked onto Jimin's own as he says, "You feel amazing. You're so soft, I–" Jeongguk's breath hitches at a particularly hard thrust, and Jimin feels himself dropping all his resolve even more when he feels Jeongguk slide his dick against Jimin's own. "I can come like this, hyung. You can make me come like this, if you want to." "I want–" Jimin gasps, feeling the slide of Jeongguk's cock against his balls. He rolls his hips, yearning for more friction, craving more even as Jeongguk brings him closer and thrusts harder into the warmth of his thighs. I just want to take you, take you home, run away, he's tempted to say, but none of those words seem to suffice. He wants this warmth to take root in his body every single day, wants to feel Jeongguk's soft touches not only when they're alone, in the dark, but even in broad daylight. He wants to go to bed every night, lulled by the sweet sound of Jeongguk's humming in his ear, and wake up every single morning to Jeongguk's shy, unguarded smile, to the lazy drawl of Jeongguk's voice as he says, g'morning, hyung, to he lilts in Jeongguk's tone he giggles into their early morning kiss, drinking each other up, breathing each other in. "I want–" Jimin begins, voice barely above a whisper. He lifts his hips and settles back down, rubbing himself off of Jeongguk's weeping cock and almost losing balance when Jeongguk wraps his slender, trembling fingers around their dicks, jerking them off in light, easy pumps. "I want you." "Fuck,"Jeongguk groans, letting his face fall forward and burying it in the crook of Jimin's neck. His lips are wet and warm against Jimin's skin, sucking lightly where he can and when he can because Jimin hasn't stopped bouncing on his lap yet, hasn't stopped caressing the length of his cock with his soft thighs. And Jeongguk's close. Jimin can feel it in the way Jeongguk's body jerks at the next hard thrust, in the way Jeongguk sinks his teeth in the warm flesh of Jimin's shoulder. In the way he keeps whispering, Jimin, Jimin, Jimin– and grips Jimin's thighs like a lifeline, nails digging into Jimin's skin and leaving marks that will sting for hours. Jeongguk can easily tip over now, roll his hips against Jimin's own in reckless abandon until he comes all over Jimin's belly, but no. He peers through his bangs and tilts his head, capturing Jimin's lower lip between his teeth and teasing it a little before saying, "Together." "What do I do with you?" Jimin blurts out, voice cracking as he chuckles. He chokes on his own spit when Jeongguk squeezes their cocks pressed so close to each other. "What do I–" "You fuck me." Jeongguk laughs, raw and breathy, the same way he did when Jimin had casually dropped after Jeongguk's first all-nighter at work, "Oh my God, I love you– These designs are amazing!" And Jimin feels a familiar sizzle crawl down his abdomen as Jeongguk smiles, slow and languid, against his skin. "Now just let go." Just let go means Jimin nodding as he leans back and grips the arm rest of Jeongguk's seat, means thrusting harder into Jeongguk's warm palm and relishing the slide of Jeongguk's cock between his thighs. It means smiling when he feels Jeongguk's thighs tremble at the friction of their limbs, but being generous with gasps and moans and whispers of Jeongguk's name every time Jeongguk rams into him harder. It means the two of them moving in soft, easy jerks, enough to rock their world but not make them tip over too fast, too easily. Two bodies falling into place, finding a perfect fit, like puzzle pieces finding their way home. Jeongguk comes with Jimin's name on his lips, dangling from the corners of his mouth as he spills his release on Jimin's thighs. Jimin shivers at the sudden gush of warmth, at Jeongguk's heavy breathing thumping against his chest in the sticky slide of their bodies. And he expects Jeongguk to slow down, to still the racing inside him as he collects himself, but no. Jeongguk hasn't stopped moving inch by inch in quick, tiny jerks, coaxing Jimin closer to his release, into submission. Jeongguk is looking at him like he holds the answers to all the questions in the world, tracing the contours of his face with a heavy, focused gaze like they haven't mapped each other out yet. Like he wants to see more of the flush on Jimin's cheeks, the little bite marks on Jimin's lower lip, the way Jimin's chest heaves in tight breaths as Jimin whispers, "I'm close–" "You're beautiful," Jeongguk whispers in Jimin's ear, breath prickling his skin, and that is what pushes him to the edge, losing all control and falling straight into Jeongguk's waiting arms. He comes in thick spurts in Jeongguk's fist, lets out a long, drawn-out moan as Jeongguk runs his fist up and down his length a few more times. He can feel every brush of Jeongguk's skin against his, every thundering beat of Jeongguk's pulse falling into step with his own, and everything is just too much, like explosions at the tips of his fingers and toes crawling to the rest of his body, making him shake all over until he's tumbling into Jeongguk's heart first. "I'm gonna die," Jimin coughs out after a while, when Jeongguk, the devil that he is, runs his thumb lightly along the vein of his shaft. He hasn't unwrapped his arms from where he'd slumped against Jeongguk yet, still hasn't pried himself from the sticky slide of their bodies. And his legs still feel like jelly that if he so much as attempts to pull away from the tangle of their limbs, he'll fall flat on his face on the floor. On a normal day, it would be gross, the fit of their bodies still slick with their release, but there's something so strangely alluring about Jeongguk stroking his length leisurely with one hand and running a warm, soothing palm up and down his back with the other, about Jeongguk humming in his ear and mouthing words he'll never say out loud against Jimin's skin – that was fun, let's do it again. Don't let it end, hyung. Make this moment last forever. "Jesus Christ– Jeon Jeongguk, I'm–" "Gonna come again?" Jeongguk teases, but he doesn't wait for Jimin to answer. Instead, he runs his hands up the shape of Jimin's body, settling one hand on the base of Jimin's nape and the other on Jimin's chest, where Jimin's heart beats the strongest. And he kisses Jimin, nibbles on Jimin's lower lip like he hasn't left enough marks on them yet to tell the world that Jimin is his, licks the cavern of Jimin's mouth like he still hasn't had enough yet and would like to taste Jimin over and over again. It's already half past might, they still have a workspace to clean up, visuals to polish, a pitch to design for victory, and this isn't part of the schedule, but then Jeon Jeongguk has never played by the rules. Jimin can't say he's surprised. He can't even say he minds. And in a small, small voice, he admits: maybe, just maybe, he never will. So he lets Jeongguk have his way, tilts his head back and lets Jeongguk pepper his skin with bright red marks that no amount of make up or layers of clothing can ever cover up. If anyone asks tomorrow, prods as to how he's gotten all those scars – Jeongguk's marks – on his skin, he can always say he'd just come out of his roughest night with battle scars worth a thousand victories. The ultimate prize? Jeongguk's blissful smile when Jimin chuckles into his mouth, reeling him in for a second round. ✪ "Hey, kid, why are you here?" Jimin whispers in Jeongguk's ear when he finds Jeongguk staring at the monitor the moment he gets back from the big presentation. "I thought– You said earlier you won't report to work." Jimin heaves a sigh when he doesn't earn a response from Jeongguk. It's almost two in the afternoon now, and the blinds in the creative's area are still shut tightly. Yoongi's things are on his desk, but the owner's probably taking a stroll down some alley nearby for a violent breath of inspiration to pierce his lungs. Namjoon's laptop is booted up but he's nowhere to be found, either – probably going for a coffee run? His second for the day? And then there's Jeongguk who looks like he's three parts 'barely there' and one part 'actually alive but unwilling to move'. Half of Jimin wants to carry Jeongguk on his back and take him home, tuck him in. Take care of him until he felt strong enough to not slump against Jimin's figure in the car (and Jeongguk had been so reluctant to slip inside his own house that morning because, "You're warmer, hyung."). After all, they had gone home just a few minutes shy of four in the morning. Company policy dictates that Jeongguk stay curled up in the sheets until the following day so he'll be a more efficient worker when he reports to work again and not a designer who is in a deep, deep trance. Too deep, in fact, that even if Jimin nudges him in the arm, pinches him in his side, fluffs his hair and pokes his cheek a little, his breath doesn't even hitch. "Hey, cutie pie. Snap out of it," Jimin says now, thinning his voice to a whisper and bending his knees a little. Jeongguk's eyes flutter for a second, but for the most part he is unmoved in the same manner that most of the things they had left lying around before going home are. There are print outs of job orders on the floor from when they'd had knocked over a pile of something when they went for another round. They had finally pinned down the final look for the presentation then, and Jeongguk suggested having a celebration. "Of what, limbs and love?" Jimin had said in reply, more to tease than to offer a suggestion, and Jeongguk looked at him with the softest gaze and the most beautiful smile. The next thing Jimin knew, Jeongguk was slipping his arms around his waist and pulling him close for a kiss. And he was melting into Jeongguk's touch, too tired to fight back but not enough to let Jeongguk pull away without returning the favor with a deeper, more heated kiss. Then there are the crushed sticky notes of different colors littered on Jeongguk's desk from when Jimin had to hold onto the closest solid thing for dear life as Jeongguk slid his cock between Jimin's thighs again. Jeongguk had tapped a soft beat on Jimin's soft skin as he whispered right in Jimin's ear, "We should do this more often." Jeongguk had pulled out, then slid back in the slowest, most torturous motion, and Jimin could recall curling his fingers around papers, Post Its, a plush dolphin he'd given Jeongguk for Christmas a year ago. One of the notes he'd left Jeongguk a few months back that said, 'Thanks, best dongsaeng! This is why you're my favorite~ ♥', then a reply in Jeongguk's writing that was crossed out, but looked a lot like, 'Only for you.' That nudged Jimin closer to a second release; Jeongguk telling him "I wouldn't mind putting in more hours of work for you everyday," untied the tight knot in his chest altogether and made him give in. Jimin takes a deep, shaky breath, then shrugs off the fleeting memory of the night that was. They were both tired then, vulnerable, too willing. They were craving release. Jeongguk's turning to him right now with weary eyes and tight-pressed lips that curl up into the smallest smile at the corners, but for all Jimin knows Jeongguk doesn't even remember anything that happened the night before. The poor kid can even barely remember to breathe. "Oh, hey," Jeongguk whispers, then pats his lap as if in invitation. He blinks a few times, until his cheeks are lifting and color is seeping back into his eyes. "How did the presentation go?" Jimin swallows hard. There are a lot of ways he can answer that question – It was alright, it was okay, did you actually think I was going to screw up, you asshole? – but the words keep pushing themselves back down, to the pit of his stomach where his insides lurch at Jeongguk patting his lap again and yanking him closer by the wrist when he doesn't say a word. It takes a while before he feels his tongue again, no longer numbed by him biting on it to hard. He manages a grunt, a low hum, a soft, "You... came to work for me?" and rubs the tip of his nose when Jeongguk meets his gaze with wide, wide eyes. "I mean, since you're asking, I figured–" Jeongguk laughs – bright, almost raucous – and shakes his head. His shoulders jump in little hiccups long after his laughter has died down and the corners of his mouth are still pulled up into a silly smile, but the shadows of fatigue have already lifted from his features. All that's left are the scars of last night, the bright red marks on the underside of his jaw and that small cut on his lips from where Jimin had accidentally bitten him too hard when he thrust between Jimin's thighs in quick, rapid movements. And the familiar lilt in Jeongguk's voice when he says, "Of course, I would. What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't support you in your crazy endeavors?" Jimin's insides turn. "You're really going to call me that?" he asks, pausing only to look around, to check if they're safe from the privy eyes of Jimin's teammates and Jeongguk's boss from hell. He doesn't mind this whole 'coming out in the open' thing, not in this industry, but goddamit, Jeon Jeongguk, at least give me a heads up. "Here? In the office?" Jeongguk lifts his eyebrows a little. The violent upward tug on the corners of his lips has waned, has dropped into something akin to a frown, but Jeongguk shakes that off even before the image can leave scars at the back of Jimin's eyelids. Instead, he heaves a sigh as he asks, "You have a problem with that?" Presses his lips into a thin, thin line before continuing, "It's– Well, I guess it's cute so I–" "You haven't even taken me out on a date yet," Jimin argues. Then, meeting Jeongguk's gaze again and gulping hard when he catches the cute little smile coaxing Jeongguk's lips to pull up into a grin, he adds, "And you haven't really asked–" "Will you go out with me after work, then?" Jeongguk casually mentions, but there's no mistaking the light tremble in his voice. That, and Yoongi's loud snort as he approaches and mutters just loud enough for Jimin to hear, get it, boy. "Or... later, for a quick bite? A snack? Coffee?" Jimin chuckles. Maybe he should try to put up a fight, tease Jeongguk some more, see if he can make Jeongguk blush the brightest shade of red to match the hickies on his neck, but he's done playing games. They've already crossed the finish line, haven't they, when they took that blind leap of faith? They've already won the match. There's no reason to fight the feeling anymore. So he laughs, makes himself comfortable on Jeongguk's lap, and whispers just loud enough for Yoongi to hear, "I'll always say 'yes' to coffee." "And to me?" Jimin purses his lips. "I'll think about it." Jeongguk snarls. "You only want me for my designs and my money and–" "I want you," Jimin whispers for a last time, leaning in just close enough that he can nibble on Jeongguk's ear lobe. He can stay here longer, curl his fingers on Jeongguk's nape and brainstorm with Jeongguk on a few business pitches like this, but later, he tells himself. They have later. So he peels himself from Jeongguk, pulling away even before Jeongguk can reel him back in, before Jeongguk can remind him again of strawberry kisses and soft touches and the only reason he'll ever stay up until four in the morning. And he risks a glance over his shoulder when Jeongguk calls out, " 4 p.m.?," eyes brighter than the sun. He has two materials due for submission at five, he can wrangle an extension for that. Love can't wait. "It's a date."