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If you asked Taehyung how he landed himself in this situation - kissing Jimin breathless and swallowing each of her tiny moans, torturously cradled between her luscious thighs on the bed in their friend Hoseok’s spare room - his guess would be that alcohol had something to do with it. Downstairs, the party was raging on, the house full of teenagers celebrating the end of the school year. Jimin and Taehyung too had been looking forward to it, to the drinking games and too loud music and even the inevitable hangover they would have to suffer through the next day.
The evening had started like those kinds of evenings usually do, too: with a couple of beers smuggled into Taehyung’s room without his parents’ knowledge and shared giggles as they watched anime and argued about their favourite ships. Then Jimin had insisted on choosing Tae’s outfit for him, determined that tonight would be the night her friend finally made out with someone in their class.
“I know that half the girls and even some of the boys have a crush on you,” she stated vehemently as she instructed him to change shirts - again! - so she could pick the perfect outfit. “You need to give the people what they want! You know Arin, Jaekwon’s cousin? She’ll be there tonight, and she really likes you. I swear she’s already picked out the names of your future kids.”
“Is that supposed to make me wanna make out with her?” Taehyung protested disbelievingly. “That’s creepy. Plus, she’s too tall.”
Jimin had the audacity to coo. “Aww, my Taehyungie likes his girls short, does he? In that case, what about that girl who was your lab partner last term - what was her name -”
“Mina.”
“Yeah! Mina - she’s pretty much your type, right?”
“I guess? But Jungkook told me he overheard her tell a friend that she thought my ears were funny,” Taehyung added - well, whined really.
“Well, we can’t have that,” Jimin declared. “Your ears are the cutest.”
When she cupped Taehyung’s cheeks and gently forced him to bend down so she could press a ridiculously loud smack on the tip of his blushing ears, Taehyung tried to stop his stupid, fragile little heart from beating right out of his chest and straight into hers.
The rest of the evening was a bit of a blur, if Taehyung is honest. Jimin changed from her usual jeans and t-shirt into a pretty lavender dress littered with small white hearts, which made Taehyung wonder what her plans were for the party (and also provided the necessary distraction from those gloomy, jealous thoughts in the form of a display of legs and cleavage that Mrs. Park would probably never have approved of), and Taehyung wore the jeans and black, tight-fitting t-shirt she carefully chose for him. Unidentified beverages were pushed into their hands as soon as they entered the house, party already in full swing. Taehyung remembers attempting a conversation with Sujin, a girl from his photography class. It involved a lot of shouting over the music, little communication and resulted in a sore throat. By the time it was over, Taehyung realised he’d lost Jimin. She wasn’t dancing in the living room, or chatting in the kitchen, and Taehyung ignored the pang in his chest when he understood that probably meant she was upstairs. With someone.
So he sat primly on a sofa, ignoring the occasional mumblings of the guy passed out next to him. He felt like a forlorn puppy awaiting his owner, even though, as he scanned the hive of people dancing, he could spot many familiar faces. Fellow students, neighbours, even friends - it seemed like the whole school was there tonight. But none of them were - well, no point dwelling on that, he thought as he quietly nursed his drink and his broken heart. Instead, he would do better to absorb the festive atmosphere around him.
When Jimin reappeared, half an hour or so later, her pink lipstick was a little smudged. Taehyung resisted the urge to ask about that - never had he enjoyed listening to the answer to those kind of questions. However, he couldn’t resist a “Where were you?”, tone carefully curated to give nothing away.
“Just in the garden. Talking to some guys smoking pot.”
“Did you have any?” Taehyung braced himself for disappointment. She can do whatever she wants - of course she can - but this was one of those firsts that they’d planned to do together. Just the two of them, parents away for a weekend, with soft jazz buzzing right into their ears. That’s how he’d imagined it, the first time they talked about it. Maybe she forgot, and that’s alright. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal, anyway. There are bigger firsts than the first time you smoke weed, Taehyung reminds himself.
“Of course not! We said we’d try it together, remember?” She huffed in mock offence, as if she would never break a promise. Then she unceremoniously plopped into his lap, one arm slung across his shoulders and a leg on the armrest. Taehyung figured that it wouldn’t be weird, given their position, to put a gentle hand around her waist. She’d slide off otherwise, right? Besides, their friends always say that the two of them have always been very touchy with each other (even before Taehyung grew a crush the size of China on his childhood bestie, he reasonned). “We just chatted for a bit. They said some really funny stuff. Like, have you ever thought about how, if life is unfair to everyone, then that actually makes it fair?”
Taehyung hummed and took a long sip of his drink. That actually made some sense.
“Or, have you ever wondered how many holes a straw has?” Jimin went on. “Because if seems obvious that it’s just one, but then again if you look at it another way, it makes more sense to say two -”
“Jimin!” Taehyung hissed out, spluttering a little, trying his hardest not to embarass himself by spitting his drink out into her lap. She’d seen him do worse, for sure, but still.
“What?” she protested innocently, before ruining the effect by smirking wickedly. He sustained her gaze for less than a minute before he burst out laughing, heart filled with helium. She joined in, shoulders shaking against his chest and warm tummy fluttering like a little bird under his palm.
“When did you become such a minx? What happened to the sweet, innocent girl who used to make my grandmother daisy crowns and cry in sympathy when the Disney villain would get what he deserved?” he teased.
Jimin shrugged. “Eh. She grew up. Well, maybe not that much, actually. I can still make your grandma daisy crowns any day, Taehyungie. And I’m still more innocent than I’d like.”
“Oh?” Taehyung prompted. He didn’t particularly enjoy the topic of her recent adventures, but she wouldn’t have brought it up if there wasn’t something she wanted to get off her chest. And Taehyung may be in love with her, but he promised himself he’d always be her friend first.
Jimin sighed and downed the contents of Taehyung’s glass. “Remember that guy I went on a date with, Jaemin? Brown hair, always wears green glasses?”
“Yep,” Taehyung said. How could he forget, when he spent over an hour rummaging through the clothes in Jimin’s closet, looking for something she’d deem appropriate for a first date, only for her to end up wearing what she’d had on all day. Taehyung had spent that afternoon curled up on the sofa in his living room, patting his dog Yeontan’s head as he slowly sunk into a The Office-induced stupor.
He didn’t even like that show.
“Well, after a few dates and - you know - makeout sessions,” she whispered, blush colouring her cheeks attractively. Jimin was a strange combination of shamelessness and purity, and it never failed to arouse something deep in Taehyung’s soul. “I indicated that I wanted to take it further, and he seemed to panic and said he wasn’t ready. Which is fair, I get it. So then, during that party at Eunbi’s, I made out with another guy, and it felt like it was going somewhere - he wasn’t the best kisser, but I figured he’d do - and then he answered a call while we were making out! And it was his mum! So that was an instant turn off for me, though now I think about it, he was disturbingly unbothered by it all.”
“Weird,” Taehyung agreed. If he ever made out with someone as amazing as Jimin, he’d make sure to give her his full and undivided attention.
“Then there was… Ah, I can’t remember his name either,” she said, disguising her embarrassment with a slightly drunken giggle. “Anyway, he asked me out and it was all good, except at one point I offered, well, a blowjob, and suddenly he burst out crying and blurted out that he was gay! So then he spent the rest of our date telling me about his crush from our maths class,” she said, using air quotes around the word ‘date’ for extra emphasis.
Taehyung was taken with another fit of hysterics. Jimin playfully punched his arm, whining “S’not funny!” even as her mouth stretched in an infectious smile and her eyes filled with mirth.
“You gotta admit it is, at this point,” Taehyung countered.
“Whatever! The point is, I’m happy to act as his therapist for an afternoon, but I’d signed up for sex, not a sexuality crisis. And it’d be fine if it was just him, but at this point I’m really losing my faith in guys generally.”
And that wouldn’t do. Taehyung could see that under her entertaining tales and bravado, Jimin was hiding a longing that would leave her unhappy until it was satisfied. And Taehyung wanted her to live a life of fulfilment. The way he saw it, it was basic utilitarian calculus: for himself to be happy, Jimin had to be too. So really, he was doing himself the service by tending to her mental welfare, no matter what it cost him on a sentimental level.
“What about Jinwoo from last week?”
Jimin groaned cutely. “He came before we even took our socks off. Just from a bit of petting and grinding.”
“You’re just that hot,” he stated confidently, only half-joking. But she didn’t know that, of course.
“I know!” she agreed, joining in with his antics. “I mean, I have boobs and everything now! Who wouldn’t want this?” she said with a slightly self-deprecating laugh, gesturing vaguely down the length of her body.
Objectively, she was gorgeous, with her tan skin, plush lips, toned limbs, cute boyish haircut, tiny hands, pretty nose… Okay, Taehyung wasn’t exactly an impartial judge. In fact, he was starting to sound like a bit of a pervert. And yes, the breasts were a relatively new development: after years of lamenting their absence, Jimin had finally developed a brand new set of beautiful curves. Taehyung had never really thought of himself as much of a boob man - he was probably more into asses, if he was honest - but it really shouldn’t come as a surprise that Jimin had the ability to shake a man’s convictions about his own identity to the core like that.
In an effort to dismiss his overly dramatic thoughts, Taehyung took a sip from his glass. Mostly the melted remains of a couple of ice cubes, at this point.
“Seriously, how come all that these guys can offer are incredibly underwhelming sexual experiences? Maybe it’s time I turned my attention to girls.”
It was a rhetorical question. Of course it was (obvious from the inflexion of her voice and the context). Still, Taehyung couldn’t stop himself from answering.
“I can do better,” he let slip, thoughtlessly. As soon as the words were out, he cringed internally. “Or, I mean, girls, yeah, they’re cool. I like girls. Uh, I mean, you can like girls too. S’all cool.”
Sadly, the word vomit wasn’t enough to disguise his blunder.
“You can do better. Whaddya mean, Taehyungie?” she asked, turning to give him her full attention. Which certainly didn’t help Taehyung think straight, since she was basically straddling his lap.
“Just that - I dunno, better than those guys. I could do better.”
Jimin stilled, looking directly into his eyes. Searching for something. Sincerity? Taehyung had never been more honest in his life.
“Do me better?” she purred. She didn’t get it, Taehyung realised. Didn’t understand how much he meant it. He mustered up the shattered remains of his confidence. It was now or never. And if it went wrong, he could always blame it on the alcohol or laugh it off.
“Yes.”
Then she laughed, light and bubbly. A lovely sound, but today it grated on Taehyung’s ears. So he brought the hand that wasn’t currently holding her waist up to her nape, caressing the soft, short hair there (a fluffy, pastel pink, just like it said on the box they bought together after Taehyung dared her to dye it), and gently pulled her down. When her nose brushed up against his and their shallow breaths intertwined, he pleaded.
“Just… Let me try, okay? I could hardly be worse.”
He heard Jimin inhale shakily, before answering in the best way possible. She breached the small gap between their mouths. To Taehyung, it felt like his whole world was being knocked off its axis. His mind turned blank, his senses drowning out the noise of the party in favour of concentrating solely on Jimin. The soft and hesitant brush of her lips, plump and alcohol-damp. Her fruity perfume that Taehyung had helped her pick out, and beneath its freshness, the smell of Jimin. Warm and homey and sweet, intoxicating. Nothing else mattered but the shy push of a sliver of tongue against his lips, the taste of her mouth.
Taehyung didn’t know what to do with his hands, hovering awkwardly over the expanse of her back. Was it still okay to touch her? He didn’t want to accidentally step over any boundaries. So Jimin took matters into her own hands (literally) and guided his down. One of her thigh, the other on her ass.
Taehyung’s brain short-circuited. He gave each a reflexive squeeze, pants growing tighter as he felt the firmness under the thin fabric. He let Jimin continue her exploration of his mouth, tongues brushing deliciously. Distantly, he hoped he measured up to the other boys that had come before him.
But Jimin didn’t seem to be complaining. Her arms wrapped possessively around his shoulders, fingers twisting in his hair. She broke away to catch her breath - just for a second or two - and let out a small sigh. A sound Taehyung had probably heard hundred of times over, but never had it struck him as erotic as it did now. So he tightened his grip on her, reaching up urgently to capture her lips again. She happily obliged, licking across the corners of his mouth, demanding entry.
Pleasure tingled in Taehyung’s tummy, and it’s only when Jimin suddenly stopped moving that he realised he’d been instinctively grinding up against her.
He swallowed down the whine that threatened to escape past his throat, slowly registering his surroundings again. “Get a room!” someone playfully shouted at them. Ah, so that’s why Jimin interrupted their activities.
“What do you think?” she asked simply.
Taehyung’s brain was having trouble forming coherent thoughts. “What?”
“Wanna move upstairs?” she clarified. At his wide-eyed expression, she amended. “Obviously, we don’t have to. Only if you want to.”
“I want,” Taehyung blurted out, with the cool that best characterises him. That is to say, none. “I mean, I do.”
o o o
And that is how Taehyung found himself in his current predicament. Jimin is writhing above him, still sucking on his tongue, clever fingers fumbling to lift the hem of his t-shirt. Taehyung’s hands have slipped under her dress, spread half over bare skin, half over her panties. She seems to prefer being above him - in control - and Taehyung is more than happy to yield.
He interrupts long enough to press open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down her neck, her collarbones, just above the swell of her breasts.
“Taetae,” she practically moans, pulling him back into a languorous kiss. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Taehyung files the sound in his memory, having no doubt that it will make recurring appearances in his future fantasies. “I can’t… Can’t take my panties off if you hold onto me like that.”
“Oh. Should I - is it okay if I -”
“Yeah.”
Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He hears both of their breaths hitch when he slips his fingers under the cotton of her panties, slowly sliding them down her legs and off. He kisses her neck again, rising so that their upper bodies are upright and flush against each other. He trails the pad of his thumb up her inner thigh, delighting in the shiver he leaves in his wake, until he brushes wispy hair. With his other hand, he lifts the dress over her hip, uncovering her to his hungry gaze.
Unmarred tan skin stretching over the hills and valleys of curvy hips and thick thighs, encasing a thatch of dark hair. Taehyung caresses around it reverently; grazing her pelvic bone, skimming over her lips. He’s never seen a woman’s vulva outside of porn, so he’s no expert. Regardless, he can’t help but think that she’s incredibly beautiful down there. Her outer labia are plump, not unlike the lips he’s spent most of the evening getting more intimately acquainted with, like soft pillows of quivering flesh. Pink peeks out from between them, and Taehyung kind of wants to put his mouth there and taste. Is that weird?
“Taehyungie,” Jimin whines. Not sexily. Well, not unsexily because Taehyung doesn’t believe her capable of making anything unsexy. “Don’t look. It’s embarrassing.”
“Why? You’re…” It’s difficult to find the words to explain how all the fantasy Taehyung has ever had combined pale in comparison to her, to convey how they don’t even compare, without giving away the fact that she’s been the muse of every single one. “Perfect.”
Jimin laughs, endeared by his candidness. “It’s all asymmetrical,” she confesses.
“Makes you unique,” the artist in Taehyung answers. That earns him a kiss so passionate he feels like he might never catch his breath.
“Gonna take off your jeans now, if that’s okay,” she whispers against his ear.
“That’s okay. I mean, that’d be great… Thanks.”
Dear lord. Taehyung likes to think he’s fairly self-aware. He knows he can be painfully awkward at times, but for some reason he’d never anticipated the fact that that particular trait would manifest itself quite so strongly when he lost his virginity. Hopefully it isn’t an instant turn off for Jimin.
She pops open the buttons and fly on his crotch. While she busies herself with his undressing, Taehyung finds himself transfixed by the sight of her lavender spaghetti strap sliding seductively down her shoulder. He pulls it down gently, and is rewarded with the sight of her nipple, brown and erect. The breast itself reminds him of a ripe and juicy pear. Or maybe a rosebud.
His internal attempt at poetry is - thankfully - cut short by the sensation of her short fingers wrapping around his dick, grabbing it and pulling it out of the tight confines of his clothing. Taehyung is pretty sure he’s harder than he’s ever been before, and the sight of Jimin’s paler hand gripping his erection makes him twitch.
“It’s…” Jimin starts. Taehyung bites his lip anxiously, awaiting her verdict. “Big.”
Like any self-respecting teenager, Taehyung has measured his dick before. He’s looked it up, and he knows he’s longer than average. Right now, he’s not sure if that’s a good or a bad thing.
“We don’t have to do anything. Well, anything more,” he amends, because amounting the events of the evening to nothing is ridiculous.
“No, I want to,” she assures him.
“Sure you don’t want to wait for someone… special?” It costs him to utter those words, but he needs to be certain she won’t regret this in the morning.
“There’s no one I’d rather be doing this with than you.” Taehyung ignores the way his treacherous heart skips a beat. “Is this okay for you though? You probably imagined your first time to be a lot more romantic than this, right?”
“Not really,” he lies. After all, he’d rather get the person right and the circumstances wrong than the opposite. “So, how do we do this?”
“Look, I know our sex ed system sucks, but right now I’d say it’s pretty self-explanatory,” she teases, chuckling to herself.
“Right. So… penis in vagina, yeah, I think I read something about that somewhere.” That earns a proper giggle, and Taehyung kisses her square on the mouth for it. “But do you need, ugh, some sort of stretching first?”
She eyes his dick for a second, before settling on, “Might not be a bad idea. Wanna do the honours, Taehyungie?”
There isn’t so much talking after that. Taehyung latches onto her exposed nipple, gently nipping and sucking. In all honesty, he has no idea what he’s doing - he’s just following some sort of ancestral memory that he hopes won’t betray him. Based on the low moans that Jimin emits and the way she grips onto his upper arm almost painfully, it seems to do the trick. She inhales sharply when his fingers start gliding along the lines of her vulva. Taehyung uses every available braincell to conjure up his admittedly basic knowledge of female anatomy, kisses up Jimin’s neck (hoping it comes across as adequately sensual and not slobbery) and presses his thumb up, up, tracing a light pattern across the place where the folds meet and -
“Oh, oh, that feels - oh - nice. Don’t stop.”
Found it! Her clitoris. Now for the next goal, Taehyung thinks, unreasonably proud of himself. It requires coordination to obey her orders, but he does his best to continue his ministrations while moving on with his mission. Jimin is very wet, he can’t help but notice as he roams south. He swears he feels palpitations in his dick when his middle finger finally latches onto a hole. That won’t do. He needs to be sure to last, at least long enough to prove to her that he’s better than those other guys. He promised.
“Hey, Jimin, do you think it’s true that musicians are better at fingering than average dudes?” he quips.
“What?”
“I’m just saying, playing an instrument probably does make you more dexterous, and that in turn would make you a better lover. Makes sense.”
“What doesn’t make sense is you talking about how skillful other guys might or might not be while your finger is literally inside me,” Jimin says, playful exasperation clear in her tone.
Taehyung lets out an offended huff. “Might I remind you, Jimin-ah, that I’m -”
“For the hundredth time, one semester of drums when you were twelve doesn’t make you a musician! Now shut up and fuck me.”
Taehyung smiles up at Jimin, who smiles back. Their mouths meet for a searing kiss, and another, until Taehyung remembers he’s supposed to stretch Jimin. To prepare her for sex. With him. As in, his penis in her vagina and - yeah, he needs to stop that train of thought before it puts him at risk of blowing his load prematurely.
The first finger slips in easily. The second has Jimin keening and pushing her head into Taehyung’s neck for support. Taehyung tries to be as gentle as possible, pumping them in and out ever so slowly, moving on to scissoring motions when he feels the tightness give in a little.
“That’s enough,” Jimin pants. “I think I’m ready now.”
Taehyung lightly nips at the skin just below the blushing shell of Jimin’s ear. “Okay. Wanna change position or…”
“Nah, this is good,” she whispers back. There’s something reverent about the moment, a sense of expectation hanging in the air that forbids from speaking out loud. They shuffle around awkwardly for a little, so that she is straddling his midsection. Despite receiving barely any physical stimulation, Taehyung’s erection has remained impressively steady. Jimin grips it daintily, adjusting it so that it aligns with her channel. Taehyung’s fingers seize the sheets when he feels the sensitive head of his cock cresting her tight rim.
Jimin’s mouth falls open, her eyes closing. Taehyung watches, enraptured, the delicate flutter of her eyelids as she sinks further and further onto his member. He hopes the penetration is not too uncomfortable for her; wishes he could find the words to express how unbelievably pleasurable it is for him.
Only once she has taken all of him in does she look down at him. Her eyes are a little glazed, and Taehyung imagines it must match his own. She presses her forehead to his, breathing in the same air. It feels intimate. Magical, like the world suddenly revolves around the two of them and the delicious ecstasy their bodies can create together. Downstairs, someone put on an Abba playlist, and so Taehyung makes love for the first time to the sound of Dancing Queen. For what feels like a short eternity (but probably didn’t last longer than a couple of minutes), neither of them move.
And Taehyung is more than happy to bask in Jimin’s presence, but he can’t deny that he (and his penis) is relieved when she starts moving again. Jimin - bless her strong dancers’ thighs - lifts off and pushes back down on his lap with no apparent effort, drawing moans and tortured sighs from both of them. Taehyung tries as best he can to make the task easier for her, letting her set the pace and not interfering other than with an encouraging hand on her butt. Inside, Jimin is wetter and tighter than he could ever have imagined, giving him more pleasure than his own spit-slicked hand ever has.
“Jimin-ah, feels so good, oh, oooh… You’re so beautiful,” he babbles. “The prettiest, the cutest, the loveliest, ah…”
“The sexiest?” Jimin answers with a clamp of her vagina. Intentional or not, mere mortals such as Taehyung will never know. He nods enthusiastically against her collarbone, mouthing at the swell of her uncovered breast. “How - ah, how does it feel, Taehyungie?”
There are many things Taehyung would like to say to that. Things like, it feels like I’m finally where I was supposed to be all along, like the hardships of life will never be able to reach me again. Things like, now that I have you here in my arms, I’m not sure I ever want to let go.
Things like, I’m in love with you and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.
Instead, he censors his inner poet and goes with, “Hot. You?”
“Ah!” she exclaims after he thrusts his hips up, unable to sustain the pressure building in his groin any longer. “Full. Dyou - ah - You wanna switch things up?”
“Sure,” Taehyung replies with not an ounce of hesitation. At this point, he’s so far deep under her spell that she could probably order him to make origami with the teared out pages of his precious manga collection and all he’d ask is whether she’d prefer paper cranes or flowers.
Taehyung has to suppress an embarrassing whine when she interrupts their lovemaking to crawl off his lap. She fluffs up a pillow and settles against it. Taehyung drinks in the sight of her, all spread out thighs, flushed chest, messy hair and swollen lips. She shivers, and he hopes his hungry gaze has something to do with it.
“I’m cold without you,” she states cheekily, but Taehyung can tell she’s just trying to distract him, obviously feeling rather self-conscious. She shouldn’t. In his eyes, she’ll always be gorgeous. A goddess, and as such, he shouldn’t keep her waiting.
So he lays over her, supporting himself on either side of her shoulders so as not to crush her with his weight. He bends down to kiss her again, revelling in the tiny hand she sinks into his hair and the leg she hooks around his hip. He wastes no time spearing back into her heat. Somehow, the new position makes the act feel even more intimate. And that’s a good thing, Taehyung reasons - the feeling of bliss lies in his heart as much as it does in his dick - but now he feels dangerously close to ejaculation. Which would be fine, except he wants to see Jimin come before that (because even as he’s having sex, he should strive to be gentleman - definitely not because he wants to know if what he fantasized about can compare to reality).
“Touch yourself, Min-ah,” he manages to say between two pants. He would do it himself, but then he’d have to lift his torso off of hers or his wrist would be bent at a very uncomfortable angle, and that’s out of the question. And Taehyung sort of feels like he might cry if he was forced to put some distance between Jimin and him right now.
She moans, a sexy, drawn-out sound that rises from the back of her throat and scratches his ears just right. She snakes a hand between their intertwined bodies, reaching down to her clit. She rubs it in slightly frantic circles, matching the wild pace with which Taehyung drives his cock in and out of her, and it’s not long before her every breath becomes a soft mewl of pleasure. Taehyung idly wonders if this is what she looks like when she lies in bed pleasuring herself, and what she thinks about then. Wonders if next time, she’ll be reminded of this moment.
He presses kisses into her neck, licking away the light sheen of sweat there. With his thumb, he teases her nipple, massaging it like she is touching her clit. The walls of her channel are clenching rhythmically, squeezing his dick exquisitely.
“Oh, oh, gonna - oh, I’m gonna, ah, come,” she warns.
Taehyung would have loved to answer something cool, like they do in porn movies. Something like ‘yeah, baby, come for me.’ All that comes out of his throat is a strangled “Me too.”
She suddenly tenses, crying out and squeezing sporadically. The way she digs her nails in his lower back has Taehyung losing his mind, and he frantically chases his own climax, just a couple of bucks away.
“Jimin-ah, so pretty, love you so much, oooh, so perfect for me,” he prattles mindlessly. With Jimin’s name on his lips, he finally lets go, pushing in as deep inside of her as he can. He comes harder than ever before, experiencing burst after burst of electrifying pleasure until all his brain cells are fried from it. “Love you, Min-ah…”
She strokes his back soothingly, catching her own breath as he waits for the tingles coursing through his body to subside. “Love you too, Tae,” she whispers back.
But it doesn’t mean the same thing it does when he says it. It’s strange, for Taehyung, to think that the person who knows him the best in the world ignores such a basic fact about him. Being in love with Jimin is an evidence for him, something that requires neither explanation nor justification, it just is. Kim Taehyung is tall, his eyes are dark brown, he doesn’t like spicy food, he loves manga, he was born in 1995, he’s left-handed, he’s in love with Park Jimin.
“So I think it’s safe to say that yeah, you were better than all of those other guys. Combined,” Jimin says, giggling softly.
Taehyung rolls off of her, extending an arm so that she can comfortably snuggle against him. He kisses her temple. “I should hope so,” he answers, joining in with her laughter. He feels an odd vertigo in his heart, full and empty all at once, and hopes Jimin will know how to nurse it back to health.
o o o