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Jimin, despite his line of work, is not someone complicated, not at all. He wakes up, drinks water (because he loathes coffee), feeds Demon and goes out for a run. When he comes back he takes a shower, lays on his couch and pets his little black cat.
He lives a fairly normal and mundane life.
Except for the part where he works for a secret government organization, that most times makes him do risky and high paying jobs. Like extracting presidents from hostage situations, stealing back gold or burning down buildings. Sometimes his job is not the most morally right arena, but it’s his job. There’s cons and pros to every job, right? His are just, more unconventional.
A con? He loathes having to leave his poor Demon in the care of Taehyung—a man who knows nothing but to take care of his computers— but he does it anyway, it’s a sad con of his job. However, there’s small pros like, for example, the absolute hot server snack he’s been eyeing ever since he stepped foot on this damn cruise. “How long until we get to the designated spot?” He speaks, there’s a rustle on his earpiece, then the slight sound of a chair rolling, “were you snacking again?” He asks, Taehyung is his sole partner in crime for this one, even if for many this may seem like a big job.
But sinking a ship isn’t really that hard.
“I’m nervous. Namjoon isn’t answering any of my texts.” Taehyung speaks, and Jimin hears it clearly in his left ear. He rolls his eyes at the words, as if Taehyung could possibly see him, but he can’t help it. Namjoon’s their boss, and of course, Taehyung’s crush. “We are five hours away from the designated spot.”
“Okay. Five hours, that’s like ten in my language.” Enough for five rounds of margaritas and six rounds of sex.
“Oh no, oh no no no, what are you thinking about Jimin?” Taehyung says, and Jimin can’t help but grin. When you’ve been doing this together for as long as they have, you get to know your partners, sometimes even better than what you know about yourself.
“There’s a snack, Tae. Like a— I’m a walking god ready to lay at your feet—kind of snack.” He’s ready to go on, to explain just why the man he’s looking at deserves to fuck Jimin. But Taehyung is already interrupting him.
“Why do you have such a thing for men kneeling for you? Is it daddy issues?”
“Ew. I’m an orphan.”
“That’s like— worse?” Taehyung says, muffled with the crunching of whatever snack he’s stress eating now. Jimin stays silent, opting to watch the heaven on earth man that’s serving the drinks of this place. He’s not sure if there’s designated uniforms for workers here, but he’s sure of one thing, this man definitely sized down on his, on purpose. Much to Jimin’s pleasure. The waiter walks as if he owns the place, every step he takes is just stronger than the other. Jimin can see his hips sway with his stroll, and it almost makes him dizzy to imagine how that small waist—choked by a chain belt— would look pounding into him.
“You’re totally daydreaming about the dude, aren’t you?” Caught.
“If you could see him, Taehyung. I might just get drunk just to keep asking him for drinks.” He guiltily admits. He asked for a virgin piña colada at first, but that seems too innocent, and Jimin wants to do anything but innocent with that man. So, he’s on his second margarita and on the way to his third. He’d like to be in bed, not alone of course, by his fifth, at least.
“You’re a good drinker, it takes a lot to get your ass drunk.”
“I don’t want my ass drunk, I want it eaten out.” He whines, it’s been long since he’s had that kind of fun. He looks over his glasses to the sides, just to make sure no one it’s actually listening to him. Not only would he look like a crazy man talking to himself, but like a pervert too. Jimin tends to be reckless when a pretty face is around. But a pretty face and a good body? It’s torture. The only thing stopping him from going head over heels—or going to his knees–right now, is that he’s on the job.
“Gross, Jimin. God.”
“You should’ve said that to Namjoon-Hyung. Maybe then he wouldn’t have ignored you.” Jimin chuckles as he says it, and he can hear Taehyung’s very whiny groan on the other end. Jimin can’t wait for the time that Taehyung makes a real move, he’d like for his best friend to get some action too.
“I’m killing your cat.”
“Demon is invincible like her father. Oh, oh shit! Shut up shut up,”
“I’m not talking!”
“Fuck, he’s coming around.” Jimin says, straightening up a bit, the man has yellow-ish sunglasses on—a white and yellow button up shirt and white pants, short white pants tightened by that sinful chain belt. Jimin can see, as the man walks, how the pants hug his thighs–big ass thighs–and how the wind blows the shirt enough so it accidentally hugs his waist. Jimin’s heart speeds up, for a moment it almost feels like he’s nervous but he isn’t, not really. He’s salivating, and the only thing that makes him nervous is the thought of not being able to taste the Greek god his eyes are seeing. “I’m not sinking this ship until he sinks me down to hell with that body.”
“Have you seen our line of work? You’re already going to hell— shit, you’re gay Jimin.” Taehyung says and Jimin can almost picture him facepalming. Taehyung is quite overdramatic.
“Exactly. I am gay.” Jimin says, body turning, ready to call the prettiest server, scratch that, the god on earth server that’s getting into bed with him later.
“Jimin, you’re supposed to sink the ship he’s working in.”
“That’s still happening, I’m just finding something else to sink in the meantime.”
“What? Your soul?”
“His—”
“That’s disgusting!” Taehyung interrupts.
A smile creeps into Jimin’s lips, “I’ll connect back at minus thirty from go time. I’m turning off my earpiece.” Taehyung tries to say something but Jimin already has his earpiece out, eyes trailing the last steps the man takes before he’s a few feet away from Jimin. If Jimin plays his cards right, he can have the fun of a lifetime right here. On a cruise. Who would’ve thought?
“Would you like a refill of that?” Those pretty lips say and Jimin, truly, really tries to concentrate on something else other than the beauty he thinks the man possesses, but it’s quite difficult. When did people start having lips so pretty? Jimin tries to concentrate enough to find the name tag on the man’s shirt.
Jungkook, that’s a pretty name to moan out, Jimin thinks.
“Sir?” Jimin snaps back to reality, eyes frantically moving to Jungkook’s own, his face goes beet red, knowing damn well he had trailed off from the name tag and was now staring at the other’s chest. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind however, eyes glinting even with the yellow sunglasses hiding them, he has a small service smile on his face and his tray tucked under his arm, “Would you like a refill, sir?” Jimin thinks it’d be nice to be called sir while being fucked. The thought sets him aflame, him being the one receiving but having that upper hand. It drills excitement through his blood.
“Yes. I’d gladly take it, the refill I mean.” Jungkook ducks his head a bit, a little chuckle leaving him and then he slowly raises his head back and nods to Jimin. Jimin can’t even find it in himself to be subtle. His mind is practically screaming dirty thoughts at him and Jimin’s basking himself in them. Jungkook is exquisite.
“Coming right up.” He says diligently, turning around and walking towards the bar.
“Holy shit,” Jimin breathes, absolutely floored with the beauty of the man, “Holy shit.” His smile, Jimin wants that smile looking down at him in a much more private and intimate scenario, or perhaps looking up—Jungkook looks like he’d look good on his knees, taking all of Jimin in. Jimin watches the waiter’s back moving away, and his eyes, his treacherous eyes slip down, his toned ass. Maybe Jimin will be the one fucking him. Jungkook seems like a guy who does beautifully whatever is asked of him. “Shit, I really have a problem.” He swears quietly to himself. There’s absolutely no way, no way he doesn’t leave without winning that prize. He has a job to do but it’s basically already done. He planted small triggers and bombs all over the lower deck. The moment they’re on safe distance from the coast and on a specific patch of it where there’s a small spot of sand close so some part of the ship can ground itself, all he needs to do is detonate the bombs.
Nobody is getting hurt and nobody is dying. The plan was meticulously cut up to avoid that. All they need to do is sink the ship, and Jimin has basically already done it. He can take some time for himself before actually having to jump ship.
He can jump something else in the meantime.
“Shit, okay.” He says the moment Jungkook comes back, a full glass of margarita on his tray, ready for Jimin. Meanwhile, Jimin already has a plan forming in his head, a way to catch Jungkook in his net. The man seems responsible, quite the working person, yet Jimin can see the looks he casts in his way, he knows the attraction is there.
“Here you go, sir.”
“You know, calling me sir that’s— that makes me feel old.” Jimin says, Jungkook slowly looks at him as he puts the margarita on Jimin’s table. Jimin is lying his ass off, his mind jumbled with thoughts, he’d have no problem if Jungkook called him ‘sir’ while getting him off.
“What should I call you then?” He says, tucking his tray under his arm and resting his weight on his hip, eyebrow slightly up. Jimin knows that look, Jungkook knows the game Jimin’s playing. Fire roars somewhere low in his gut. There’s nothing quite like the before of an act. The anticipation, the build up, being so sprung out that you feel you're going to give out, only to know well you’re just getting started.
Jimin breathes deep, there’s a series of names Jimin would like to get called, but he can start soft, “I’m Jimin,” he says, extending his hand, “you can just call me Jimin.” Jungkook indulges him, a small smile appearing on his lips, he takes Jimin’s hand, and Jimin is ready to shake it but no, Jungkook just brings it closer to his lips, with a sort of delicacy that has Jimin’s body erupting in goosebumps. Yes, the godsend of a waiter knows exactly what game Jimin is playing. Jungkook places a kiss on Jimin’s hand. The moment his lips make contact with Jimin’s skin, Jimin can’t help but open his mouth a little, letting out a breath.
God, the things he’s thinking right now.
“It’s a pleasure then, Jimin.” He says, looking up from where he’s kissing Jimin’s hand.
“Jungkook!” Another waiter calls from far low on the deck, Jimin fights the urge to drop them down and punch them, but he stays cool, feeling the soft way Jungkook lets go of his hand and reveling in it. Jungkook turns softly to leave, but Jimin needs to shoot something—he needs to get the game going.
“I expect you to take good care of me, alright?” He says, wrapping his lips around the salted border of the margarita glass and drinking. Jungkook rewards him with a crunch of the nose, and a big smile. Hot, and cute, fuck.
“You can count on it.” He says, and then he’s leaving— Jimin watches him go, eyes trailing from the way the shirt hugs his back to the way his ass looks in those god-awful sinful white shirts. Jimin licks his lips. His mind is running a cardio set, and includes no clothes.
He ends his margarita in record time— almost downing it in one go. Jimin knows that the game is on, he’s well aware that Jungkook felt that pull. The desire. But he needs something, an excuse to get him alone. Jimin watches Jungkook for another hour and so, the sun starts setting, and Jungkook adjusts vividly to it. Taking off his glasses and walking around with more swiftness thanks to the coolness seeping into the air. Jimin watches him, his fifth margarita flushing his cheeks as he does. He’s waiting for the perfect moment to attack, he already has a soft and perfect plan in mind. He’s not sure how many minutes pass, but after some time, Jungkook takes off his tag, Jimin watches him nod to other waiters and then watches him leave.
This is it. Jimin does his best to not appear desperate, to seem subtly walking away from the bar, his whole body feels warm. He even feels that watching Jungkook work was foreplay. Now that he’s close to getting what he wants, he can feel his dick twitch in interest. Crazy. He’s absolutely crazy, he’s done reckless things in missions, but this one is by far the one that has him the most desperate. This man, gods, this man.
Jimin follows Jungkook until an empty hallway, perfect, he thinks, to pull his plan out of his sleeve. When he’s close enough behind Jungkook, he makes himself heard, faking a misstep, Jungkook stops, and Jimin quickly looks down, holding himself against the wall. He’s faking, but a part of him actually feels dizzy, the desire thrumming through his veins is enough to short circuit the thoughts in his brain. Jungkook turns, Jimin can feel approach slowly, he keeps his head down, biting down a gasp when Jungkook’s hand touches him by the waist.
“Are you okay?” The waiter asks softly, Jimin looks up, they’re so close. Jungkook is close enough for Jimin to get whiffs of his perfume, musky but muddled thanks to the day of work, but he still smells unbelievably good. His eyes are brown, soft without his glasses. Up close, a breath away, Jimin’s thoughts are worse, he even forgets his words for a second.
“Yea,” he says, sounding much more breathy than he wanted to, he is seriously riled up just at the thought of being fucked. “Motion–” he puts his head down for extra effect, he’s sure Taehyung would be proud of this little act, then be disappointed because of what Jimin is acting for, “Motion-sickness.” Jimin tries to smile as he looks back at Jungkook, the waiter to his disgrace and pleasure, buys it, truly buys it, he moves to help Jimin more. One hand resting by Jimin’s shoulder and the other tightly holding onto Jimin’s waist. Jimin has to bite his tongue to not plead to be held tighter.
“Oh, It’s a bitch, I get it. Hell, it’s my workplace and I even get it sometimes.” He smiles, a slight chuckle leaving him. “Those margaritas probably did not help.” Jimin nods, agreeing with the waiter. Of course, he’s lying, the margaritas did nothing wrong–partly–they did fuel Jimin’s horny state. He feels like he’s burning inside out. Can feel himself clenching, his dick pulsing softly, his whole body is eager to be touched, Jimin feels almost out of control. “I can help,” Jungkook says, and Jimin perks up, “Let’s get some water first. I have some pills–”
Jimin thinks that is now or never, so he straightens a bit, Jungkook adjusts his hold on him, Jimin smiles, innocently, as if a succubus demon–or whatever lust deity exists–was not threatening to overtake him, “You could help me.” He says, he gets closer to Jungkook, he’s done with waiting. Their lips graze, and Jimin can see Jungkook gulp, the action is like kerosene to the hunger he feels. “Come on, Jungkook. I think there’s a better remedy than pills.”
“Yeah?” The waiter breathes, Jimin feels it in his mouth.
“Fuck me.” He tells Jungkook, he doesn’t let the waiter respond, pulling back, leaving Jungkook chasing after him, Jimin grins. “You can follow me, if you want. Or not.” He sings songs, he starts walking away, swaying his hips for good measure. He keeps the elegant walk as he goes, even if his body is thrumming with arousal. When he rounds the corner, he catches Jungkook still standing where he left him, mouth slightly open.
Jimin can’t help but smile, the anticipation burning bright in him. He knows Jungkook will follow him.
*********
*********
Jimin enters his cabin with the knowledge that Jungkook followed him. The phantom of the waiter steps behind him was almost like a near-death chase while he was close to his room. It fueled Jimin with an unexplainable adrenaline, and now he’s burning full of desire. He wants those tattooed arms all over him, worshiping him, leaving him bruised.
Of all conquests he sometimes indulges himself in, this one has been the one that has almost burned him off with the assault of feelings and arousal. Jimin waits no time in taking his clothes off. He would very much like to see how he can rile the man up, he’d enjoy seeing him eat Jimin with his eyes while Jimin strips for him, or perhaps feel those muscles flex as he tears Jimin’s clothes apart. Sadly though, Jimin can’t afford to have his clothes torn up, nor can he exactly wait for such games to take place. He’s too worked up.
It doesn’t mean he’ll enjoy this any less, of course. Jimin knows the view he’ll give Jungkook once the waiter enters the room will be enough to have him begging. Jimin wants Jungkook to wreck him, to make him see stars and maybe—god, maybe even make him tear up. But, he wants Jungkook to beg, to beg Jimin to let him do those things. Maybe call him ‘sir’ in the process.
Jimin groans, feeling his member grow hard at the sheer thought of it. He lets the curtains open, the view of the unrelenting and free ocean looking more like a painting than anything. There’s a small ray of sun that makes its way through the window, and Jimin is very pleased to find it striking across the bed. He can’t help the slight tingling that goes through his body at the way he knows he’ll look—laid bare on those dark navy sheets and with the sun shining on his skin—Jungkook will surely lose his mind.
Once he’s completely naked, he makes himself comfortable on the bed, rustling the sheets a bit as he inevitably touches himself. He’s sensitive, eyeing Jungkook for the most part of the day left him a bit breathless, and that closeness earlier, god the man surely will kiss just like how he looks, godly and full of desire, Jimin can almost taste the weight of his tongue crashing against his own already. The thought serves to fuel that want that runs through him, and Jimin lets out a gasp as he runs a hand from his chest, touching his nipples and going down, down and down until his hand swiftly brushes his dick. The sound that leaves his mouth sounds more like a mewl than anything. Jimin lets that same hand run back up, his other hand clutching the sheets, his imagination runs wild, imagining Jungkook’s tattooed fingers playing with him instead.
Fours. He needs to be fucked senseless from behind. The desire hits him like a truck as his mind cuts from image to image, supplying him with the very real one of Jungkook’s hands spreading his ass apart, rubbing his own lube-slicked cock all over Jimin’s ass. The thought is enough to make Jimin prepare himself, and without second thought he turns, dropping on his belly on the sheets and hissing at the contact his dick makes with them. He frowns a bit, cursing his mind for fixating so much on that man, making him feel this needy, yet he can’t exactly blame it either. Jungkook was maybe the most beautiful thing Jimin has ever seen.
Jimin gasps as the cruise moves a little bit harder, perhaps a big wave hitting them, he can’t exactly think too much about it as the movement jostles him and he ends up rutting against the bed, a moan escaping him. The pleasure goes to every part of him instantly, and he can’t help but imagine he’s rutting against Jungkook’s strong thighs. God, his mind surely works well when given a mystery beauty just like the waiter. Maybe Jungkook is a sinful siren, Jimin inevitably thinks, as the urge to rut against the bed becomes overwhelming once his mind supplies him the image of Jungkook’s thighs. Yes, a siren brought from the very dark and vast ocean that surrounds them, solely to torment Jimin. He bites his lip, trying hard to control the warm spreading to every bit of his skin.
As if there was a god looking out for him—perhaps a devil of lust and pleasure—there’s a small sound outside his door, so small that no normal ear would’ve caught it, but Jimin’s trained senses did not miss. Even through his muddled hazy desire. “You know,” he says, rutting softly once against the bed, rejoicing in the pleasure it gives him and inhaling as he correctly positions himself in his hands and knees, “I think the sounds I make would be better if you were closer, in here with me.” Jimin thinks Jungkook has been there for a while, perhaps listening to Jimin’s soft gasps and moans as he riled himself up. “The view is as pretty as my sounds.” There’s a curse and right after his door opens, then it closes, Jimin can clearly hear the sound of the lock and chain going into place.
He only arches his back in response. He knows how good he looks. Has recorded and taken pictures of himself enough, he loves mirrors, loves seeing himself and the beauty that is his body and the intimacy of passion and sex; for him to give himself to someone he likes knowing himself well enough too. He knows exactly how beautifully his back arches. Years of training, his lithe body and faint dance lines must make their show now, the sun must be making his skin glow.
Jimin looks over his shoulder to find Jungkook looking at him, eyes dark and lips parted. Jimin is very aware of the dent in Jungkook’s shorts, and his mouth salivates at the sight. Did Jungkook touch himself while listening to Jimin’s pretty sounds? The thought sets Jimin’s skin aflame. “How long were you there?” Jimin asks, he has an idea of what the man must like, but he still wants to check how compatible they may be.
“Enough to know I want to hear all your sounds,” Jungkook says, hand going to his shorts and unbuttoning them. “Enough to know I want to wreck you for riling me up.” Jimin is actually surprised at that, Jungkook seemed quite shy earlier, but this—this is much better than he expected. “Don’t look surprised, Jimin.” The sound of his name on Jungkook’s lips makes him arch his back more, straining it, god how he wants this man. He’s gasoline and Jimin is already burning. Jungkook takes his pants and boxers down all in want go, and Jimin bites his lip to stop himself from sounding like a needy little thing. It’s a task though, when Jungkook’s thighs are deliciously fit, and his cock looks exactly like the thing Jimin wants to wreck himself with.
Maybe he’ll forgo having Jungkook beg, he’s not sure how long he will be able to hold on. With the way his body is acting he’ll surely be asking for more, more and more. He recognizes himself easily, and he’s thriven by want. Jungkook takes off his shirt, eyes never leaving Jimin. Those dark orbs are a matter of the universe; Jimin would have no trouble losing himself within. Perhaps he’ll try to name constellations while he lets Jungkook fuck him in missionary. Fuck. They haven’t even started the first round and Jimin is already thinking about positions for the next ones. A siren. Definitely a siren.
Jungkook slowly approaches the bed, and Jimin watches him get closer and closer. His hands fist the sheets in anticipation, his body temperature goes from burning to surprisingly cold. It’s sudden, and he knows it’s because he needs Jungkook’s touch. He suddenly feels empty, cold and alone, and he wants to be set on fire once again. He wants to feel Jungkook’s hands, his body and his mouth on every inch of his being. Spreading warmth and desire wherever he touches. The slight dip of the bed as Jungkook kneels on it sets off an anticipation on Jimin that almost hurts. He feels like he’s being edged, and it’s only Jungkook approaching so slowly that he’s tempted to beg.
Shit. What is this man?
He feels the closeness first, the warmth Jungkook’s body burns to his as Jungkook finally closes in. The first touch of skin threatens to stop Jimin’s very existence, to make him forget and renew all that he is. He feels the way Jungkook’s front presses into his ass, and he clutches the sheets harder to not groan out. Then, his hands, as if Jungkook knew exactly the effect he’s having on Jimin’s body, he makes it slow. He lets one hand, no, one single finger, run all over Jimin’s spine, so slow and taunting Jimin’s whole body erupts in goosebumps, he can’t help the slight tremble that escapes him. That flame that had burn off starts puckering back to life and when Jungkook moves that finger away, only to lay his whole palm on Jimin’s lower back, making him arch even more, and making Jungkook’s cock slot itself against his ass—fire erupts all over his body. Jimin hisses, and moans when he hears Jungkook’s own low curse.
He wants to say something, anything but this silent dance they’re doing it’s almost perhaps heaven and hell crashing down and flying up. When he does think of words, they all die down when Jungkook drapes his whole body on Jimin’s back, his face coming to Jimin’s ear, so close that Jungkook’s breath fawns over it. Hot. He’s so hot. “You’re art. Did you know? How beautiful do you look? Hairs going up at my touch, skin trembling under my hold, tell me, Jimin, do you want me to make you come undone?”
A part of Jimin feels like he already has, he feels out of breath. They haven’t even started yet, but his heart is running insane.
“You’re telling me that? I wasn’t hiding behind a door, listening to my moans and breaths, touching myself.” Jimin smirks when he feels Jungkook’s breath get caught up, yet his heart races faster. Jungkook was touching himself while listening to him. Maybe Jimin can still make him beg, maybe he can hold his neediness a bit more. “Such a good, following boy. I could feel your steps the moment I left. Do you want to know what I was doing?” Jimin turns his face, satisfied when his lips are a breath away from Jungkook’s. When their eyes meet and they start a silent fight to see who gives in. “I was touching myself,” Jimin breathes, his lips grazing Jungkook’s, and Jungkook’s hand on his waist tightens, “then—I wondered how good it’ll feel for you to fuck me like this, on all fours.” He drops his tone to barely a whisper, sounding breathy, as if they were in the middle of it. “But I got sidetracked, like a needy boy. I started rutting on the bed, thinking how good it would feel to be rutting on you instead. Have your hands guide my waist, watching you struggle while you saw me rut against your thigh, finding my high, moaning—all while you just watched, maybe then you’d sneak your ha—”
Jungkook’s lips are on him before he finishes the thought. It’s tilting, it moves his hold–his sense– of the world sideways. Jungkook’s cock fitted against his ass, the waiter’s chest pressed to his back while Jungkook slots his tongue against Jimin’s, their mouths clashing. Yes, Jungkook kisses just how he looks, and Jimin moans low in his throat to let him know. Pushing his body back to give friction to Jungkook’s dick.
They break apart but Jungkook doesn’t let him breathe, he uses one hand to roughly hold Jimin’s chin and Jimin feels his eyes close, when they open he feels dazed, “Tell me what you want, what you like,” Jungkook whispers, breaths between them.
“Sir.” Jungkook frowns, Jimin grins. “Sir.” He emphasizes, it dawns on Jungkook and Jimin revels in the smirk that appears on the waiter’s face.
He pulls their faces closer, his grip on Jimin’s chin holding tight. “Tell me what you want, sir.” The word sits warm in Jimin’s gut, harboring gasoline to set him aflame later on.
“Don’t choke me.” Jimin is really down for anything, he’d take anything but choking, happens when you work a job like he does. Most people don’t try to choke on casual sex but Jimin likes to be safe, “I’ll stop you if you do anything I don’t like,” he grazes his lips with Jungkook’s, “besides that, I’m all yours to take.” The ferocious grin that makes it to Jungkook’s lips is beautiful.
Jimin feels a hand caressing his ass, and his skin prickles, his body arches, “Do you like to count?” Jungkook asks, he seems to pause for a moment, then he tries again, “Do you like to count, sir?” Jimin kisses him, bruising, making the hold on his chin loosen. He’s sure they could come just like this, playing like this, with the way they’re going, will get them burned without having to step inside the ring of fire. Their bodies are hot, warm, so much so that it drives Jimin mad. They’re both on edge.
“Make me.” Jimin says once they break apart.
“Make sure to remember.” Is the only response he gets. Jungkook pulls back, his chest detaching itself from Jimin’s back, leaving spots of sweat all over Jimin’s back. They’re burning in desire. Jimin needs something, anything, now. Jungkook, seeming to read his thoughts, leans back, the lower part of his body pressing himself into Jimin’s ass, while he pulls back his chest and neck to admire the view. “Do you want me to enter you like this? Or should I just take you like this? Are you loose enough for me—-sir?” The contrast of the shy waiter and this Jungkook drives Jimin insane. He likes it, loves that Jungkook feels rough, that his tone is cocky, taunting.
But Jimin knows what he wants. He knows where he wants him and even if his hole is clenching, even if he feels empty. He’ll get it, just once, at least.
“I want you to touch yourself. Lube yourself, baby.” The worlds fall like honey from his mouth, breathy moans escaping in between while he moves his ass, rutting it against Jungkook’s cock. The waiter just takes it, his hands loosely on Jimin’s hips, letting Jimin do what he wants. “Touch yourself while looking at me on all fours. At my hole waiting for you.” Dirty, dirty, dirty. All he can think is that Jungkook must be cursing him. The man must have a beautiful crease between his eyebrows but Jimin doesn’t look back, he keeps his head down resting on his arms, his back dutifully arched as he moves his ass.
If he looks at Jungkook his resolve will fall. And he’ll just beg to be fucked. He feels Jungkook pull back, probably to find the lube around the bed. Jimin doesn’t stop though, he arches his back more, circling his hips, doing a show of his back. Spreading his knees, lowering himself and then pulling up. It’s like he’s stretching, a yoga class but just for show. He hears the lube open, hears the squelch and the hiss as it meets Jungkook’s cock. In no time the wet sounds of Jungkook stroking himself echo across the cabin. Jimin closes his eyes, imagining it’s the sound of that same cock fitted inside him. It urges him on. He pulls his knees together, prompting his ass up more, he knows how beautiful it looks like this, knows how tight the fit would be to be fucked like this.
Jungkook seems to know too, because he groans, and the wet sounds—the squelching—of him masturbating thanks to the view grow quicker. Jimin breathes in and out, his cock aching under him. He’s not sure if he’s torturing Jungkook or himself at this point. Jimin pulls his knees apart, spreading his legs, arching his back and going back to the perfect position on all fours. He waits, rocking a little his hips, back and forth, circularly. He waits, there’s a hiss— “Jimin,” his name is a moan out of Jungkook’s mouth, kerosene, gasoline. “Let me—-fuck.” The squelching stops, Jimin knows this is it, and he can’t help but arch more, torture, he loves torture. Knows this play is just filling himself up, the moment Jungkook enters him he’ll be undone. “Fuck, please. Please,” Jungkook broke quicker than Jimin expected, but he can’t find it in himself to care, he wants it too by now, desperate too. “Please, let me fuck you. Let me put it in–sir. I’ll make you feel good.” Jimin expects Jungkook to call him sir again, but Jungkook stays quiet, breaths coming short. “I’ll make you feel good, hyung.” Jimin erupts.
He breaks completely. “Fuck me, Jungkook. Go on. Fuck me. I’m all ready.” Words are something he forgets after that. Jungkook is on him in milliseconds, his warmth seeping into Jimin’s every bone, Jimin groans. He needs to be touched, needs to be touched, he needs to feel. To be pulled to the highest point and then be let go, free falling in pleasure as he goes. He needs to come undone. The feel of Jungkook’s hands spreading his cheeks apart is heaven, and when Jungkook squirts more lube all over Jimin’s ass and hole, then slowly moves closer, his tip breaching Jimin’s rim; Jimin’s sure hell is close.
He was never one to truly believe in heaven and hell. But the stretch of Jungkook entering him creates what he can only describe as hellfire. His body erupts in goosebumps, a broken moan falling from his lips. Jimin breathes once, twice, but it’s all warm. Pure fire breaking all over his body. He hisses at Jungkook’s hands on his hips, when Jimin feels already full, Jungkook pulls Jimin’s hips back, pushing the last of his length in. Jimin’s legs shake. His heart beats hard enough for him to feel it in his head, he fists the sheets in his hands, groaning, feeling in heaven as his body burns in hell. Jungkook rubs soothing circles by his hips, moving his fingers all the way to his lower back, pushing his thumbs in Jimin’s back dimples, making Jimin arch back further, prompting a moan out of both of them.
Jungkook caresses Jimin’s body as if he was worshiping it, and Jimin revels in the feelings. He knows the waiter must be enjoying the sight, and he’s genuinely surprised they haven’t snapped and fucked each other senseless already. Jungkook kneads at Jimin’s ass, pulling his cheeks apart pushing his hips forward to bury himself deeper in Jimin. Enjoying the sight with Jimin’s cheeks apart, he groans. “Don’t go silent on me.” He whispers, voice husky. He pulls almost completely out, slamming into Jimin with a deep thrust.
It may be Jimin’s ecstasy, it may be the overwhelming feeling running all over his body, inside-out, but he feels their bodies clash together in a perfect tandem. As if every wave that the cruise broke through was rocking the ship in perfect synchrony with their thrusts. “Fuck, fuck, yes, this–like that, yes.” Bliss. Jimin closes his eyes. Letting his head fall, he turns his face to the side to be able to breathe, as best as he can breathe with every powerful move of the waiter’s hips. His mind does not work, there’s very little besides the feel of Jungkook’s hands on his ass, on his hips and the feel of the cock inside of him. Jimin is sure the cabins across the hall can hear him. He doesn't shy away from letting Jungkook know how good he feels, how good he’s making Jimin feel.
Sinking a ship has never felt this good.
“I’m gonna–”Jungkook snaps his hips forward, Jimin can feel the strain of his thighs against his body, and it drives him crazy. He’d like to mark Jungkook up, completely. Thighs, torso, chest, suck him off until dry. “Jimin, Hyung. Fuck. You feel so good, so good. Tight.” Jungkook fastens his thrusts and his moans make a symphony with Jimin’s own. ‘Ah, ah, ah’s’, echoing across the cabin. The constant clap of skin on skin joining it.
“Go on, baby. Come.” But Jungkook seems to last more, he thrusts in, slowing his movements, thrusting deeper and deeper, dragging his cock in and out. One of his hands shakes where it holds Jimin, the other snakes around ever so slowly. Jimin is about to complain then he feels Jungkook’s hand wrapping around his neglected and aching cock. Jimin screams.
“Come with me.” Short deep thrusts follow the command, Jungkook strokes his hand in par with them, Jimin breaks completely. He had forgotten about his own cock, the feeling of Jungkook abusing his prostate was enough to drive him off the edge. The combination of his hand stroking Jimin’s cock, while his length keeps hitting that sweet spot inside of Jimin, is enough. Jimin crumbles, cum staining the sheets and Jungkook’s hand.
“Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. God,” his voice breaks, Jungkook does not stop, curses leaving his mouth. His hold on Jimin’s hips grows weak, and Jimin feels so spent he can’t even get the words out to tell Jungkook to pull out. To come all over him. His body fails him, shaking as Jungkook uses him to reach his high.
“Let me–fuck, let me come on you, Hyung.” Jimin is too weak to speak, but his body burns aflame at the words. Tears prickle at his eyes, this man in the middle of nowhere in a damn cruise, bringing him heaven and hell in one fuck, seems to read his mind too. He only pulls himself forward, Jungkook gets it instantly, pulling out. He kneads at Jimin’s ass and Jimin hears the condom coming off, he turns, laying down, he signals Jungkook forwards with one shake hand, Jungkook frowns, moving on his knees to lay between Jimin’s legs. “Want me to–”
Jimin props the lube open, drowning his hands on it and takes Jungkook’s cock in them. The waiter hisses. Something like a cry coming out of his mouth. Jimin watches him bite his lips and shakes his head, “Let me hear you.” Jungkook let's go, his body seems to completely go taut, the squelch of Jimin’s hands stroking his cock, make Jimin feel arousal again. Jungkook moans prettily, as if he were born to do so, to scream and beg. Jimin strokes him with one hand, and takes his balls in the other, Jungkook groans, closing his eyes.
“Fuck, that, that’s, hyung, I’m coming, I’m gonna come, sir.” Jimin squeezes his balls, stroking the tip of his cock with his thumb, and with a broken moan Jungkook comes, cum falling all over Jimin’s stomach, reaching his chest. Jimin strokes him through it, and only when Jungkook seems to come back to, does Jimin let go, leaning back on the bed. Jungkook stays between his legs, breathing heavily, using Jimin’s knees to hold onto. He curses, eyes opening to watch Jimin with a fiery gaze, Jimin smiles, licking the cum off his fingers.
“You look so pretty when you come.” It’s only a guess, Jungkook seems shy and obedient, but he was quickly dominant and confident once they were in bed. He fucks like he’s been toping all his life, but Jimin thinks that such a pretty face would look good on all fours too, looking back with pleading eyes. His body burns at the thought, “Do you like to be fucked too?” He asks, Jimin tries not to smirk when he feels Jungkook’s hands grip tighter his knees. ”Mmm, I just wonder, do you like to be played with? Fingered until you’re begging to come? Or, do you like to wait until you’re full? Fucked until you can’t speak?” Jungkook’s cock twitches, and Jimin sees it, trailing his eyes up until he makes eye contact with Jungkook’s dark blown pupils. Jimin smiles, “You told me to remember, but you forgot to make me. Do you like that? Would you like it for me to make you count? I’ll make sure to not forget to make you.” Jimin’s gut burns in desire when he sees Jungkook lick his lips.
They were too desperate to come, they played too much with each other. The need must have made Jungkook forget he told Jimin he’d spank him. Now, however… “I like it,” Jungkook whispers, Jimin raises an eyebrow, the softness in Jungkook’s tone, the quiver, this man.
“What do you like?” Jimin asks, prompting himself up on his elbows, Jungkook swallows. Jimin brings a hand to caress Jungkook’s thigh, drinking in the way Jungkook’s breath hitches. “Hmm?”
“Everything. All,” Jungkook says, breathy.
“Come here then.” Jimin grabs Jungkook’s thighs, then trails his hands up until he’s grabbing his hips. Jungkook goes easily, quickly making himself comfortable on Jimin’s lap. Jimin hisses as Jungkook rubs against his slowly hardening cock. He grabs Jungkook’s ass, slowly tightening his grip on it. “Kiss me, sweetheart.” Jungkook bends down quickly, mouth finding Jimin’s.
Jimin slaps one of his cheeks. Jungkook gasps. There’s a beat of silence, “One.” Slow. Shaky. Breathy. Jimin’s brain goes numb.
“Kiss me again.” Jimin breathes. The ship rocks. But Jimin lets the ocean drift them away.
He’s on a cruise, after all, even if he’s sinking it, he can enjoy it. He can enjoy Jungkook.
***********
***********
Jimin has always been proud to call himself an organized and methodological person. Even in the short bursts of recklessness he often indulges himself in, he maintains a level of control, maintains himself on his toes. His life was the success it was thanks to the certain set of rules he crafted for himself. Now, however, it’s been two months and Jimin can’t quite put a finger on it, but he has been out of place. Out of his game. Out of his mind. Two months ago Jimin had both the worst and best day of his life.
After successfully completing his mission, he came home and made a report. Usual procedure. The only problem was that he could not remember anything but the feel of that waiter’s hands on his body. Jimin still isn’t sure how such a man ended up working on a cruise, but he had never thanked the heavens–he’s atheist–so much. His report was full of doodles, and Jimin is sure it had drool spots on some ends. Most times, his reports are fun, he loves going over what he did and retelling another successful mission. This time? Namjoon and Hoseok had cried a river over the shortness of his report.
It was swift and to the point.
Park Jimin: Human trafficking cruise disintegrated.
Silent bombs were attached to the cruise weak points. Six hours before go time. Everything ran smoothly, no signs of mob heads. Minus thirty minutes before go time, cruise was 15 knots from land and 5 from blocks of sand. Go time.Bombs detonated beautifully. 5 minutes past I went overboard, liferafts were working, no harmed passengers. Agent made it to land successfully, authorities deemed the cruise inoperable and let it sink. Mission accomplished.
Of course, Jimin’s mind was somewhere else while writing the report. Thinking of the man god beauty and his sounds, his eagerness and body. Jimin did not add his escapade to his report this time, Taehyung had given him a glare, not being one to like hiding anything from Namjoon, but Jimin just couldn’t. Jungkook, that damn siren was tainting his mind, and Jimin wanted no record of him, he wanted to be able to forget him easily. It did not help that Jungkook had seen Jimin jump ship, either. His body half naked as Jimin went over the railing. Jimin thought Jungkook would scream, perhaps run after him, but the waiter did nothing of the sort. Jungkook smirked as Jimin fell into the water. Jimin had been afraid at first, given his line of work, but it’s been two months and nothing has happened.
She thinks of me - Landon tewers
Nothing. And he hasn’t been able to forget the waiter. Jimin can’t even count the times he’s touched himself with the phantom smell of the ocean, the rocking of the waves and Jungkook’s thrusts pounding into him in mind. He went shopping last week and bought an ocean candle. Fucked himself with a toy and imagined Jungkook’s hands guiding his hips. The man was the best sex of Jimin’s life, but he was the worst too. Jungkook was Jimin’s biggest mistake, because everything after Jungkook feels menial, dull and worthless.
The waiter, in a day, in the middle of the ocean and in a damn cruise, single handedly ruined everybody for Jimin. Jungkook ruined Jimin. His very untroubled and methodological life has been slightly upturned by the sound and feel of a cruise waiter. Not one person that Jimin has laid with has helped. Not one. He tops, bottoms, and even has had threesomes. Fucks, plays around, even tries to recreate the game of waiting, looking at each other before eating each other whole. But nothing, absolutely nothing works like it did with Jungkook. Jimin even had a fling in another mission. It was horrible.
Now, he’s on his third try of the week. The week. It feels the same, dull. Jimin watches himself in the mirror by the bed’s side. His blonde hair is sweaty, his body leaned back, his hands holding onto the knees of the man he’s using. Using. Because that’s all he does these days, find people and try to use them to forget Jungkook. It’s horrible, he knows, a kind of low he never expected to fall to, but it is his life right now. He used to enjoy his encounters, he used to enjoy sex. Now, it’s like a chore, a process he’s working on to achieve something. To achieve forgetting Jungkook. “You feel so good, Jimin.” Jimin closes his eyes, imagining that it’s Jungkook under him. It’s wrong, wrong and dirty but it’s the only way. If he keeps his eyes open he’s not sure he can control not rolling them at the man under him.
Jimin moves his hips, the way he has imagined a thousand times that he moves them for Jungkook. The man under him—Taeyong–Jaehyon? Jimin doesn’t know–brings his hands to Jimin’s hips, gripping them tight and Jimin can only remember Jungkook’s hands. His hard yet delicate hands, capable of bringing Jimin close to insanity. Taeyong moans, his hands following the movement of Jimin hips, Jimin opens his eyes to look himself in the mirror—just himself. The man under him does not care or notice, too concentrated on his own pleasure. Jimin watches his red nipples, abandoned and aching to be touched, his cock looking much the same. His body. His pale body is unblemished and untouched.
Jimin prides himself in loving art, and there is not something he loves more than the tainted art of lovebites all over one’s body. The phantom marks of hands, the bruises that tell a good lover took you to bed. It’s been so long. So long since someone marked him up that way. Since someone took his body and made art out of it. Jimin finds his own gaze in the mirror and starts slowing his hips. He doesn’t know anymore if he should be angry or sad. Jungkook has ruined him to the point of no return, to the point that he is even a stranger to himself. His eyes drift away, moving to look behind the mirror, out the window.
A man is staring back. Jimin’s house is big, a corner house. He decided to have the room that does not only look out towards the patio, but he made sure one of the windows looked out to the street. Jimin does not stop, he throws his head a bit back, continuing to fuck himself with the pity man under him. He bounces, his hair bobbling on his head, the sweaty bits falling into his eyes. If the man outside wants a look, so be it. Maybe this little show makes him reach his climax without having to think of Jungkook. Jimin watches him, dark attire, full leather. He’s resting on a motorcycle, big enough to fit three. His face is obscured by the helmet, but Jimin can feel his gaze even then.
The man has his head cocked to the side, watching intently. Jimin straightens his posture, moving his hands to–Taeyong’s?--thighs. He starts bouncing with newfound fervor, eyes never leaving the stranger. Jimin had been quiet while having intercourse, Taeyong’s moans and the slap of skin the only thing echoing throughout the room. Now, Taeyong’s obnoxious moans rattle the windows, and Jimin’s little gasps of breaths join in. The stranger watches, he stands straighter by motorcycle, Jimin watches as he takes off one glove, then slowly moves to take off his helmet.
A moan escapes Jimin’s lips. Jungkook. Jungkook. Jungkook. His body is set on fire, all the way to his insides. As if Jimin were a moth and Jungkook was the flame he was waiting for all along. A million questions threaten to split Jimin’s brain apart, but none of them are coherent enough between the fluid ecstasy and arousal that burns him completely. Jungkook. Jungkook is outside of his window watching as Jimin rides another man, a man that comes nowhere close to Jimin’s damnation, to Jungkook. He’s watching Jimin. Jungkook is here, just outside, after months of Jimin fantasizing about him. Missing him. He is here. Jimin grips his hands thigher, securing himself to be able to fuck himself harder. His whole body trembles as he bounces up and down, pure fire rumbling through his veins, through his very nerves.
Taeyong–the man under him—calls a warning, probably saying he’ll come, but Jimin does not care. He’s only chasing an end, and end to the cliff that is standing between him and the man he actually wants. He is chasing an end to jump from, to jump right into Jungkook’s arms. Jungkook smirks, as if he knew Jimin was riding the man to his climax only to get rid of him. As if he knew that the image of him is the only thing that spurts Jimin on. He knows. Aware that Jimin is imagining him under him, not this pity fuck, not this stranger, but him. Jungkook brings his gloved hand to his mouth and tears the remaining glove off with his teeth. He takes the leather and slaps it on his other hand. Smirking.
Jimin bounces, a moan escaping his lips. The man under him writhes, Jimin rides him, closing his eyes as he imagines–no–as he remembers Jungkook’s constant abuse to his prostate that day. On that cruise. Taeyong comes, and Jimin follows him a small orgasm, almost dry, and only because the image of Jungkook is tattooed in his eyelids, in his mind and very being. Jimin comes and it’s with Jungkook’s name slipping out of his lips.
“Who is Jungkook?” The man under him says, eyes wide open, unlike the whole time they were having sex. Jimin stands, wincing as the man’s cock slips out of him.
“Look Taeyon–”
“Taeyong?” Jimin cringes.
“Jaey–”
“Hyunshik!”
Jimin smiles. “Hyungshik.” He throws a towel at the man. Jimin would feel worse if the man was actually good. If the only problem with their intercourse was Jimin’s mind being on a certain waiter. But no, the man never touched Jimin, never cared about what Jimin wanted and left Jimin on top, to ride him and do all the work. Any day Jimin would not mind, but for this man, it definitely was a piss poor fuck. “You should leave.”
After successfully getting rid of the man, Jimin does not even bother to dress. He cleans himself, and puts on a robe, completely naked under. He waits. Jimin restrains himself from going outside, from running after Jungkook, from jumping into his arms, maybe fuck him in the sidewalk. Yeah, he’s definitely better off waiting. So, he does. He sits on his couch, demon quickly settling beside him and purring. “You think I'm nervous?” he asks her, “I am not. I’m excited. So much so I might ignore you for a week. Maybe I’ll send you to Taehyung’s.” Jimin sighs dreamily, a week of sex is the less he can get after all that he suffered.
“You talk to cats?” Jimin rolls on the couch, hand going under the lamp table to get a handgun. He whirls around, gun locked and loaded. He’s hit with Jungkook’s beauty accentuated by the warm light in the living room. Jimin feels that something tugging at his gut but he does not lower his gun.
“How did you get in?”
“Ah, is not nice when someone else is the one with secrets huh?”
Jimin releases the safety on the gun, “How did you get in?” He’s not sure he would actually shoot Jungkook, the thought barrels him with such force that it threatens to bring him to his knees. Only his instinct of survival keeps his hands upright and tight around the gun. But that day, on that damn cruise, they did more than just fuck. It is as if a connection was made between them when they decided to lay together. Jimin is not sure if he can shoot Jungkook. Jungkook, the mysterious hot waiter, the man that has not left Jimin’s mind, the stranger that can get into Jimin’s heavily secured house.
Jungkook steps closer. He brings his hands up and runs them from Jimin’s elbows down to his hands, Jimin shakes. The gun shakes. Jungkook moves closer, the barrel just over his heart. “Do you not feel this? You wouldn’t shoot me. You cannot kill me, my love.” Jimin’s lips part, Jungkook’s proximity is almost like a toxin. A heavy drug that Jimin has become addicted to. A drug that has dulled his senses, that has broken the order of his life. Jungkook leans in and Jimin closes his eyes, their lips brush. “Just as I could not kill you then.”
Jimin’s eyes snap open, his being instantly getting lost in Jungkook’s brown orbs. “You were sent to kill me?” Jimin breathes. Words shaky, not because of fear, not at all. He has stared death down more times than he can count. “That day—”
“I was hired to protect the ship. My employer did not want his carrier lost.”
“You didn’t kill me.” Jimin steps back, his heart is a hammer in his chest, and he wishes nothing more than to give in to every desire, every thought and feeling that his body is setting aflame within him but he must know. His job demands him to know, he has an organization to protect. His life is nothing but that of his friends is everything. “Why are you here now? A job unfinished?”
“A job completed. I couldn’t very well come without setting things straight. I would not risk you like that.”
“Over a fuck? Over a one time thing.” Jimin says, but his heart tells another story. His heart hopes.
“I saw you, Hyung.” Jungkook whispers. “I saw you fucking that man, your gaze was somewhere else, you were somewhere else.” The gun clatters to the ground as Jungkook pulls their bodies together. Warmth spreads everywhere. “Were you imagining the waves? The rocking of the cruise, the softness of the silk sheets under us? Were you remembering your sounds, or mine? The feel of my cock inside you or the way my body trembled as yours entered me?” Jungkook licks at Jimin’s earlobe, “You were remembering us as you fucked him. When you finally took notice of me, I could see it on your face, it was as if you were coming up for fresh air.”
“How do you know?” Jimin’s body melts into Jungkook’s when he puts an arm around Jimin’s waist, making him arch a little.
Jungkook runs a trail of kisses from Jimin’s earlobe to his chin, parting to rest a breath away from his mouth. “Because for every day I have remembered it too. You’re tattooed in every inch of me. More permanent than the art already tainting my skin. Do not doubt my absence nor my intentions, not when you feel this as much as I do.”
“Who are you, Jungkook?”
“I was a killer, a killer who could not kill when it came to you. You have ruined me, me and my reputation.” Jimin can’t help but laugh, perhaps they are more alike than he ever thought. “Now, however, I am only Jungkook. I am Jeon Jungkook, and I am entirely yours.”
“I am Park Jimin.”
“And?” Jungkook prompts, his hands coming under Jimin’s thighs and pulling him up, Jimin goes willingly, feeling breathy already. His legs lock instantly around Jungkook’s small waist and Jimin’s entire being remembers how that waist looks when it’s above him. Hips moving in beautiful motions, pounding into him. “Who are you, Park Jimin?” Jungkook says, gripping Jimin’s ass.
“Entirely yours.”
When Jungkook crashes their lips together, Jimin believes, if only for a moment, that perhaps that day when he jumped ship he drowned. Not at sea, not with the cruise, but he drowned all the same. Now, with Jungkook’s hands pulling his robe apart, his fingers gripping so hard to his waist, hard enough that Jimin knows dents of art will be there in the morning, he knows he’s being saved. As Jungkook leaves a trail of hickeys on his collarbone, as Jimin undresses him, as they lay on the couch and Jungkook settles between his legs, entering him in one swift motion. Jimin knows. Jimin knows that he was drowning in desire, stuck in a fire that became aflame when he jumped ship that day, and that only now is being roused with water.
As they fuck, and as Jimin closes his eyes to only enjoy, enjoy and feel, without the need of imagining or remembering, he knows: he drowned that day, and was only now coming up for fresh air.