Chapter Text
Park Jimin
↬ 30 years
↬ Defense Secretary
↬ Democratic Party
Jeon Jungkook
↬ 24 years
↬ Medical Student
↬ Chaebol Son - Jeon Conglomerate
Kim Taehyung
↬ 30 years
↬ State Secretary
↬ Democratic Party
Min Yoongi
↬ 32 years
↬ Attorney General
↬ Democratic Party
Kim Seokjin
↬ 33 years
↬ Commissioner
↬ Democratic Party
Jung Hoseok
↬ 31 years
↬ Director
↬ Jeon Conglomerate
Kim Namjoon
↬ 31 years
↬ Managing Director
↬ Jeon Conglomerate
✦ ══ 🏛️ ══ ✦
“So, Ireland?”
Jimin’s voice cut through the haze of smoke he exhaled, cigarette burning low between his fingers, its ember glowing in the night sky. Leaning on the railing, he watched Taehyung type away at his laptop, emails firing across the world as if it were just another routine night. But Jimin’s mind was far from steady… adrift in dangerous places when it had no right to be. Tomorrow, he was due before the President at ten sharp, armed with files on the new fighter jets and their lucrative exports. By afternoon, he and Taehyung would sit across from the ministers of China and Russia, a conference that could tilt the balance of power before Taehyung left for Ireland in the evening. So, his plate overflowed with steel, ink, and diplomacy.
It wasn’t new, not to him. Jimin wore the chaos like a crown, bragging it was child’s play even as stress etched silver at his roots. He wasn’t called ‘Tailor of Chaos’ for no reason. With a hiss of exasperation, he ran his hand through his dark hair, snuffing out the cigarette before reaching for whiskey and glasses. But no drink could drown the image branded in his mind. He knew it all too well. Jungkook, his lovely, reckless lover who had dared to send him a clip earlier; his body on display, breathless and obscene, moans dripping through the speakers like poison. Jimin had sat through meetings haunted by the sound, fury, and hunger coiling in his chest. And tomorrow, he would have to face presidents and ministers with only one truth burning inside him: Jungkook had ruined his composure, and he was a little too far away.
“You seem… distracted. Jungkook?”
Taehyung’s laugh cut through the eerie silence, his hand nearly snatching the glass of whiskey from Jimin before he raised a brow, teasing. Jimin wanted to scoff, wanted to push back, but no one, not a soul, could breach the walls he’d built around his heart. No one could unravel him, make him burn from the inside, make his eyes flare red… no one but Jungkook. A reckless force who owned him without apology, who held his heart like a weapon. Taehyung’s observation was correct. Jungkook had fucked up. That was who he was, that was what he always did, and Jimin loved every damn second of it.
They sat in silence, whiskey warming their throats, waiting for Yoongi. Taehyung and Yoongi lived a couple of blocks away from Jimin’s mansion; it was an unspoken pact that they’d stick close when Yoongi’s nights ran long. Jimin sometimes envied them, sometimes resented their open wedding, but the forbidden thrill of Jungkook’s presence ignited something darker in his blood. It had been three days since he last saw him, and absence was a cruel torment, something he hated and craved. Yet even in distance, Jungkook had a way of punishing him, more like taunting him, busy at the hospital, climbing the ranks as a resident doctor, leaving Jimin both aching and powerless… and loving every agonizing second of it.
An hour slipped by with Jimin meticulously arranging papers for the conference the next day while Taehyung buried himself in his own work. The silence was shattered when the door clicked open, and a bodyguard stepped in, shotgun in hand, his slow words carrying the information: Yoongi had arrived. Jimin gave a curt signal, and the door closed behind Yoongi, who shrugged and leveled a look at Jimin that said, What the fuck? It was absurd… they’d been friends for years, and everyone from party officials to the public knew it.
Yet recent conflicts had sharpened the edge of security. It was doubled. As head of defense, Jimin had no choice but to remain vigilant and cautious at all times. He watched Yoongi stride to the patio, pressing a fleeting kiss to Taehyung’s lips before pouring himself a glass, and the seconds stretched into minutes. Jimin finally gave up on the sweet couple and slipped into the shower, seeking alone time, a brief moment to steel himself against the urge to reach for Jungkook’s name. The younger one was likely still at the hospital, and though every fiber of Jimin’s body screamed to run, he forced himself to stay… he would not create a scene.
But Jungkook would.
Just as Jimin reached for the shower, his phone buzzed against the marble counter. He rarely let anyone call his personal number, but he knew exactly whose call this was. If he had a unique music set for his boyfriend’s call… don’t label him sappy. The sound cut through the steam of hot water, and Jimin let out a low, deliberate groan. He pushed his wet hair back, every movement controlled and lethal, and answered the phone. On the other end, Jungkook lounged in a swivel chair, black shirt half-tucked into faded jeans, effortless and hauntingly beautiful. He looked infuriatingly good, and Jimin’s pulse darkened… he wanted nothing more than to ruin him.
“You didn’t answer my text!”
Jungkook accused, and Jimin shrugged, lips curving into a cold, low scoff.
“I don’t think a jerking off clip warrants a reply”
“It does. You could at least match me… or did your dick die?”
Jungkook’s smirk was deliberate, bratty, and challenging. And Jimin… spent, exhausted from three days of relentless conferences and a fleeting trip to Mexico, felt his own dark hunger flare under his skin. He wanted Jungkook, here, now, and he was going to remind him who held the reins.
“Don’t get started now, sweetheart”
Jimin murmured, his voice a smooth, dangerous threat, sounding like an evil angel. Jungkook would agree. He propped the phone to face the shower stall, every inch of his body commanding even through distance. He heard Jungkook gasp, knew the boy’s eyes traced him, unabashed and hungry. A smirk tugged at Jimin’s lips. Oh, the game was on, and he played to win. He always did when he knew he would get those delightful reactions from the younger.
“Cat got your tongue?”
Jimin questioned as he washed his hair.
“Are you just FaceTiming me during the shower?”
Jungkook muttered, though his tone faltered. The bratty edge thinned a little, replaced by something softer, needier. Jimin could feel it, and his lips curved into a smirk.
“Me?”
Jimin’s voice cut like a blade dipped in honey.
“Guess you got it wrong. I’m showing you exactly what you want but can’t have. You wanted my attention, you were desperate for it, and now you have it. And you’ll behave”
Jungkook’s breath hitched audibly, the smirk faltering, but he also dared to roll his eyes. He shifted, thighs pressing together, a little restless. Jimin watched him unravel, eyes never leaving Jungkook’s face.
“You always try so hard, Jungkook-ah”
Jimin murmured, eyes narrowing with amusement. His eyes narrowed into slits, unblinking, predatory.
“Acting bold, acting bratty… when the truth is, all it takes is my voice, and you start melting. Extremely pathetic, don’t you think?”
Jungkook’s jaw flexed, lips parting, and tongue playing with the piercings as if to shoot back some smart remark. He even chuckled under his breath, tilting his head as though unfazed. But the punch back didn’t come… not when his gaze stayed locked on Jimin, who stood there with water sliding down his bare chest, skin glowing under the steam. The words stuck in Jungkook’s throat. He could only stare, a cocky grin faltering into something more restless, more hungry.
“Maybe… you’re the pathetic one, Hyung, standing there trying to -”
“Trying to do what?”
Jimin interrupted smoothly, not raising his voice, but piercing the air. He stepped back under the stream, tilting the phone just enough so the view of his soaked body filled Jungkook’s screen, a full visual. Jungkook swallowed hard. His pupils widened, and the bravado drained from his posture.
“You can’t even finish a sentence, sweetheart”
Jimin murmured, mocking as a low chuckle escaped his lips, knowing the weight of his boyfriend’s favorite endearment pressed harder than any yell.
“What happened to that sharp tongue and that squeaky voice?”
Jungkook shifted, thighs pressing together. His hand twitched against his thigh, and then, like his body moved on its own… slid lower. He tugged at his zipper, eyes still locked on Jimin, defiance hanging by a thread. If anything, Jungkook was shameless and bold. And, Jimin would like to believe that the younger one even had an exhibitionism kink. They didn’t dare yet, but he also knew it was just a matter of time before Jungkook begged to be fucked in public.
“Of course. Couldn’t resist. Be a good boy and take it out”
For a moment, Jungkook hesitated, his hand stalling, and his pride flickering. He wanted to bite back, wanted to throw another bratty jab, but his chest was tight, his throat dry as the desire curled low in his belly. Jimin’s eyes never left him, sharp and siren-like, and it made Jungkook’s blood run hot. Slowly, with a nod, he obeyed. Fingers fumbling at first, then tugging his cock free from his jeans, flushed, wet, and already heavy.
“That’s it”
Jimin voiced out, his smirk widening as he leaned one hand against the glass.
“Now look at me as you fuck your hand. Don’t you dare take your eyes away”
Jungkook’s breath hitched, a strangled sound escaping him as his fist wrapped around himself, slow at first, almost embarrassed under Jimin’s unwavering stare.
“Be gentle for once, Jungkook-ah. Don’t be a desperate bitch”
The command was sharp, almost cruel, and Jimin laughed darkly when Jungkook faltered… only to speed up again, greedy. His head tipped back, doe-eyes fluttering shut as a gasp tore out of him.
“Eyes. On. Me”
Jimin’s tone dropped to a deadly growl, eyes turning into dark slits. Jungkook snapped his gaze back to the screen instantly, wide, glassy, shame and hunger mixing in his pupils. He watched as Jimin was hard, his dick curled against the toned abdomen, but the older man did nothing. Jungkook’s hand worked faster now, slick sounds filling the heavy silence between them, every stroke pushing him deeper into the haze Jimin spun around him like a death trap.
“Pathetic little brat”
Jimin scoffed, water dripping down his chest.
“Three days without my cockup your ass and you’re already so fucked out you can’t think straight. Do you think anyone else could make you like this?”
“N… No”
Jungkook choked, voice cracking as his hips jerked up into his own hand.
“Say it properly”
Jimin snapped, leaning closer to the phone.
“Just you. You own… me, Hyung. Fuck”
Jungkook stammered, desperation clinging to every word as a lone tear slid down his cheek, and Jimin wanted nothing more than to lick it clean.
“That’s better, darling”
Jimin murmured, letting the praise slide like velvet over thorns.
“Now faster. Let me hear how disgusting you sound”
Jungkook obeyed without hesitation this time. His eyes were totally glassy, and his mind was floating in the throes of pleasure. His strokes turned frantic, wrist working quickly and sloppily as whimpers spilled from his parted lips, the pre cum dribbling down his slender fingers.
“All those bratty little games, and now nothing but a filthy mess fucking your own fist because I told you to”
“J-Jimin… Hyung”
“I didn’t say you could come, Jungkook-ah”
Jimin cut him off sharply with a raised brow, and Jungkook let out a wrecked sound, thighs trembling as he tried to slow down, trying to obey even as his body begged to spill over the edge.
“Please…”
Jungkook gasped, chest heaving, cock swollen and angry red in his hand.
“Beg louder”
“Please, Hyung. Please let me… I’ll be good, I swear”
His voice broke into a cry, needy and wrecked, the fight gone from him entirely as he stared at Jimin with those huge eyes, glossy and desire-filled. Jimin’s smirk deepened, satisfied. He leaned into the camera, voice dark as he watched his boyfriend fall apart.
“Go on… make a filthy mess”
Jungkook’s entire body jolted, and with a choked cry, he spilled across his stomach, a few drops landing on his shirt, hot and messy, hand still pumping through the aftershocks. His lips fell open, eyes hazy and unfocused, breath ragged as he collapsed back against the chair, ruined. Jimin chuckled low, cold, and intoxicating.
“So fucking beautiful”
✦ ══ 🏛️ ══ ✦
Jimin had never despised the traffic of Washington more. His envoy, a convoy of a car behind and one in front, crawled forward with agonizing slowness, boxed in by the mid-morning rush with everyone in a hurry to reach their workplace. He sat in the back of the second car, ankle crossed neatly over his knee, polished chelsea boot tapping an impatient rhythm against the carpeted floor. Technically, with a single call, the traffic could have been cleared, the roads emptied for his passage. But Jimin loathed that sort of entitlement. He had grown up hating the sight of people who wielded power to inconvenience ordinary people.
No, he would endure the frustration like everyone else. Sometimes he craved it, the grounding reminder that he was still part of the crowd, not above it, not someone who ruled mercilessly. When at last the convoy pulled through the White House gates, Jimin was not late but early, barely, five minutes ahead of schedule. He stepped out with grace, jacket falling perfectly into place around his shoulders. He was dressed in a navy blue three-piece suit, crisp against the stark white of his shirt. The blonde hair was parted neatly, strands sleeked back from his forehead, the kind of look that made heads turn.
The guards at the entrance nodded at him and allowed him through without delay, and the moment Jimin crossed into the West Wing, he slipped seamlessly into the polished persona of the United States Secretary of Defense. A title that often weighed heavily on his shoulders, but that was something he had made to endure since he learned the ropes of politics. Inside the office, the President awaited him. A woman in her early fifties, sharp-eyed, gentle, and composed, she rose from behind the desk as Jimin entered. She extended her hand, her smile cordial yet masked.
“Secretary Park”
She greeted him warmly.
“Madam President, Morning”
Jimin replied, taking her hand with a polite dip of his head, bowing slightly, his voice low and deep, posture confident. As they took their seats, the room fell into a comfortable silence while Jimin placed the reports on the table.
“I’ve read the reports you submitted”
The President began, leaning forward, fingers intertwined as she studied the reports and glanced back at him.
“These new fighter jets… impressive technology. But I’d like to hear it from you directly. Why the urgency in extending production capacity beyond our borders?”
Jimin’s eyes glinted, sharp as steel and just as dangerous. He had spent almost eight months planning, organizing, and monitoring the production with the engineers, and army officials after taking the conditions and input from various nations which are in dire need of the power. And explaining his vision was something that made Jimin feel powerful, feel like a winner. He leaned forward slightly, his tone precise, persuasive, every word deliberate.
“Because, Madam President, we are standing at the cusp of a new defense era, and we need to put forward the advanced technologies. These jets are symbols. Power and trust. The advanced avionics alone set them a generation ahead of our rivals. Exporting a limited fleet to strategic allies is about weaving stronger ties, earning their trust, and ensuring loyalty. I hate to word it this way, but this can also be labeled as a leverage, and I genuinely hope it won’t come to that point”
The President studied him, silent and hummed. Jimin continued, his words cool, and magnetic. He could go on about explaining the process his mind had created for hours, but not everyone had the brain and heart to appreciate it. Sadly, he had to move on and ultimately get it approved.
“China needs reassurance, Russia needs balance, and the UAE needs stability. A fleet of our jets stationed in their bases ties their defense to ours, cements our role as invincible. And beyond that, it sends a clear message to adversaries: our alliances are not just symbolic. They are armed, operational, and united. That we are standing as one”
The President’s lips twitched into a small smile and she leaned back, arms crossed on the table as she lifted brow.
“And the risks? Selling that kind of power abroad doesn’t come without blowback or cost”
“Controlled risks”
Jimin countered smoothly. He had planned it all out, and spent the nights, circling and eliminating the risks and any potential loop holes that could put them at gun point.
“We dictate the terms, Madam President. Maintenance, parts, upgrades, software… they come through us. They cannot operate these jets without our engineers, our supply chains. Our army will train them with the things they need to know, not what we know. Our allies get protection. We keep control”
Jimin shrugged, tapping the table a couple times before ending his statement. The conviction in his voice was intoxicating. Many people often praised him for the smooth talking, the ability to convince someone in minutes. Jimin loved it, but he had to admit that he did consider it as a gift. The President nodded, assessing him not just as her Defense Secretary but as the kind of man who could command an entire room effortlessly.
“You’ve thought this through, Park”
She said finally with a chuckle, though it was more statement than question. Jimin’s lips curved, not quite a smile but something sharper, magnetic, as if he knew and acknowledged her praise.
“I always do. Can’t jeopardise the nation’s power”
“I’ll greenlight your proposal. But you’ll oversee the negotiations yourself. Personally. I want our allies charmed, convinced, and reassured. If anyone can deliver that, it’s you”
“Consider it done. I and State Secretary Mr. Kim will be meeting with the ministers of Russia and China this afternoon. Trust us on this, Madam President”
Jimin replied, rising smoothly. As he left the office and the white house building after a respectful good bye, the media rushed to keep up, tablets and mics in hand, peppering him with questions. Jimin smiled, mouthing a few words to his secretary who nodded in understanding as he walked ahead, the faintest smirk ghosting his lips. In politics, in war, in power… he was unstoppable.
.
.
.
“Alright. Text me once you reach”
Jimin murmured, voice rough and full of fatigue as he peeled his white shirt off, tossing it carelessly onto the armrest. His muscles ached from the day, but exhaustion never gave him the dignity of rest. It was a luxury. He sighed, pressing his palm against the cool marble counter as he placed the phone down. Three back-to-back conferences and countless calls with the army generals, and not a single moment to breathe… It was a routine.
“Will do. I’ll be joining you tomorrow at five sharp. We need to finalize the UAE deals, and from what I hear, their minister is already prepared to be an asshole about it”
Jimin pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply as a dull ache settled behind his eyes. Taehyung’s sigh echoed through the line. At least he got to stay at home, but his best friend’s schedule sucked to the core. Who would have the energy to travel abroad after being packed with meetings?
“I need a beer or three in me before all this”
Jimin muttered, attempting humor with an exaggerated chuckle, but the weight in his tone betrayed him.
“Take a nap, Jimin-ah. Will call you soon”
Taehyung added before the line went dead, and the silence that followed felt deafening. Jimin leaned back against the counter, pressing the heels of his palms to his eyes and hoping that would take some of the strain away, but it did nothing. His assistant’s voice quickly cut through what little quiet he could claim for a few seconds, as he peeled his eyes open, which were begging for a nap.
“Sir, you have pending calls with the German ambassador, two security briefings waiting for approval, and the Delta team is asking for confirmation on next week’s summit”
Papers shuffled behind him as the assistant listed task after task, each one piling higher on Jimin’s already breaking shoulders. He loved his position, he loved the power it gave him, he loved using the talent he had, but everything came with a price, and his job cost him sleep, peace, and tranquility. Jimin nodded once, wordless, before dragging a hand through his damp hair and slipping into the bedroom to walk out in sweat pants and a sheer linen half-sleeved white shirt. He hadn’t even taken a shower, hadn’t let himself sink into the mattress he’d been craving for hours. Every moment was spent with a phone in his hand, voice steady, and composed like he wasn’t just going through a hundred emotions every minute, mind sharp, eyes scanning document after document.
Every deal signed, every negotiation, every sleepless night… It was supposed to make him untouchable. The Defense Secretary of the United States didn’t crack, didn’t falter. He could never afford that, and yet beneath the surface, his thoughts strayed. They strayed to Jungkook. The brat who lounged in luxury, untouchably gorgeous, infuriatingly smug. The human who was supposed to be a pawn and an enemy, but turned into the only person who could chip away at Jimin’s armor with a single look, a single laugh. The one thing Jimin could never categorize as enemy or ally, and therefore, the most dangerous of all.
Jimin’s personal phone lay silent on the counter, the screen black. He hadn’t texted. Not once since morning. He had foolishly thought he could get time away to actually text and reach out to Jungkook, but he had been proven wrong every second. No matter how many times his hand itched to reach for it, another call dragged him back, another demand chained him in place. He felt it in his chest… the gnawing frustration, the raw exhaustion. Not even a second to breathe, to send a single word, to hear Jungkook’s stupidly calm voice on the other end, taunting and teasing him. His body screamed for rest, but his mind chased deadlines, diplomacy, and wars fought on paper.
Jimin exhaled, long and slow, taking a couple of minutes to himself before he attended to his next duty, staring at the faraway city lights bleeding through the window. His reflection stared back at him… powerful, but tired. A man who held power in his fists but couldn’t spare a second to touch the one person who made the weight feel lighter. Sexy. Powerful. Exhausted. Defense Secretary Park Jimin was all of that and beyond, and yet at that moment, all he wanted was five minutes alone with Jungkook, five minutes where the world didn’t demand his blood, his mind, his soul.
The phone buzzed again, and he forced his body not to sway. One last call. His voice remained steady when all he wanted was silence. By the time he ended the final line of the day, Jimin’s throat was raw, his head heavy. He glanced at the clock. Ten p.m. He hadn’t eaten in almost twelve hours if one slice of toast counted as breakfast. The hunger sat in his stomach, ignored and buried beneath obligations. With a low groan, Jimin pushed himself away from the desk, dismissing his assistant, fingers running through his hair as he walked barefoot across the mansion’s marbled floor and down the stairs to the ground floor.
The kitchen was dark, thanks to Jungkook for picking out the dull shades of grey, reasoning that it was classic and elegant. Jimin chuckled under his breath, and when he entered, it was awfully quiet. He regretted, not for the first time, dismissing his private chef months ago… security risks, vulnerability, outsiders in his space. He had justified it as necessary, and it was because he had an intruder who made him sick to the stomach. But it left Jimin here, Defense Secretary, standing in front of his own stove, trying to remember if he had enough eggs left for an omelet or enough yoghurt to at least have something.
Jimin opened the fridge, pulling out what little he could manage for a late dinner, half-heartedly. It was almost laughable… someone who handled nuclear briefings and foreign ministers every day was reduced to chopping vegetables under dim kitchen lights. But something was grounding about it, too. Something human, and he cursed under his breath as he remembered to text his boyfriend. And then, a sound echoed down the hallway. The faintest click, subtle, deliberate. Jimin’s hand froze mid-motion, knife hovering above the cutting board as his instincts took over.
His eyes lifted, sharp, eyeing for any potential threat, which sounded a little silly considering the two layers of security he had around the mansion, but better be safe than sorry. When the second sound followed… the soft turn of gears, the low, distinct hiss of the hidden lock releasing… Jimin’s pulse spiked in a way no danger ever had. The secret door. The one built into the far wall behind the bookshelf, invisible to anyone who didn’t know where to look. A door that only two people had access to. Him… and Jungkook.
Jimin’s lips curved upward at the realization, slow and dangerous, the exhaustion in his body replaced by something electric, alive. He set the knife down carefully, leaning his weight against the counter, the small of his back hitting the marble as he waited. When the door opened, Jimin didn’t tear his gaze away. He simply closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the sound, relishing the moment, the one sound in the world that never felt like an intrusion, but like oxygen.
The bookshelf slid open, and Jungkook slipped inside, black hoodie hanging loose on his frame, the sleeves covering his hands entirely, baggy pants tucked sloppily into sneakers he hadn’t even untied. His hair was a mess, hood half up, with a black mask the younger one peeled off hastily, and yet to Jimin, he looked like everything he never dared admit he needed. Like home.
“You didn’t text me once today!”
Jungkook’s voice rang through the hall, soft but tinged with mock offense. He bent down to untie the sneakers and adjust his outfit carefully before he made his way down the hall.
“Not even your poker face, stupid emoji. Do you know how many times I checked my phone? You forgot about me, didn’t you? Secretary Park Jimin, too important, too busy for his boyfriend”
Jungkook was already moving as he spoke, words spilling effortlessly the way they always did, bouncing off the walls, and filling the air with life. His hands waved as he tugged the hood down, his mouth running with exaggerated complaints, his pout deliberate, with Jimin’s eyes fixated on the lip piercings that shimmered under the light. Jimin didn’t interrupt. He never did. He just watched him… watched the way Jungkook’s presence lit up even the dimmest corners of his mansion along with his heart, every bratty word making the silence less suffocating.
He felt happy just watching the younger talk and ramble. But as Jungkook reached the kitchen, his steps slowed. His eyes finally landed on Jimin… on the unbuttoned shirt clinging to his tired body, on the shadows beneath his eyes, the slight slump in his shoulders, and the soft, fond smile curving his lips. The words died in Jungkook’s throat. His pout melted into something softer, more instinctive as he just stood before Jimin, who cocked a brow at him. In two strides, Jungkook was in front of Jimin, pulling the latter to his chest, arms looping tight around his waist. Jimin’s chin dropped slightly, resting on the younger’s shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as the weight of Jungkook’s body settled against his. For the first time that day, his lungs felt like they could fill.
“Hyung… You didn’t eat again, did you?”
Jungkook questioned, his voice quieter now, the initial excitement gone, muffled against Jimin’s neck. His arms tightened, protective in their own way.
“It’s ten at night, idiot. You’ve been running around since morning, and you didn’t even bother to put something in your stomach?”
Jimin let out a low hum, not quite an answer, not quite a denial. His hand rose to Jungkook’s nape, fingers threading through the younger’s black hair, grounding himself in the touch as he pressed few lazy kisses to the neck, nibbling on the skin for a few seconds before pulling himself away and tucking the hair behind Jungkook’s ear.
“Sit!”
Jungkook ordered suddenly, pulling back from the hug to glare at him, though his doe-eyes were glassy with worry.
“Now. You’re not lifting another finger. I’ll cook. I’m better than you, anyway”
“Jungkook-ah…”
“No!”
Jungkook cut him off, stubbornness flashing through his features as he wiggled a finger before Jimin’s face.
“Not tonight. You’ve given the whole damn world everything it wanted from you today. Let me take care of you now. Just this once, let me”
The weight of the words settled between them. Jimin’s lips curved faintly, something tender breaking through the sharp edges of his face. He reached out, brushing his thumb across Jungkook’s cheekbone, as the younger one leaned down just enough to peck Jimin on the lips before making him plop down on the chair. Jimin chuckled, resting his face on his palm as he watched Jungkook move around the kitchen like a professional chef.
“You really think I’d let anyone else talk to me, and maneuver me around like that?”
Jimin whispered, his voice low, husky but incredibly silly, and fond, warmed by something only Jungkook ever pulled out of him.
“I’m not anyone else”
Jungkook shot back, softer now, his pout returning as he pointed the ladle at Jimin.
“I’m your boyfriend. Which means I get to nag, tease, and you get to sit your sexy, overworked ass down and let me make dinner”
Jimin just shrugged with a smile as Jungkook busied himself, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the tattoos peeking, oversized hoodie hanging loose as he shuffled between the fridge and stove. His voice filled the kitchen, light and chatty, bouncing from topic to topic without pause. Jimin still wondered how the younger one did that.
“You know, I saw your little press conference earlier. It was all over the news, of course”
He called over his shoulder, chopping vegetables, looking exceptionally hot for no goddamn reason. Jimin had to avert his eyes away.
“You looked hot, I agree, but also scary. Like, ‘I’m the Defense Secretary, I could ruin your country in two sentences, ’ scary. Which, to be fair, I’m into, not complaining, but also, maybe you could smile once in a while, Hyung? You are terrorizing people with that sexy, siren face”
Jimin’s lips curved upward lazily.
“Smile more? That’s rich coming from you, sweetheart. More than half the time, you glare at me when I tell you to clean up after yourself, especially after our nasty stunts”
“That’s different!”
Jungkook turned, waving the knife at him with exaggerated angry pout, but Jimin could see the faint pink dusting his cheeks.
“That’s domestic glare. Not world-destroying glare. There’s a difference, Mr. Park”
Jimin chuckled.
“Careful with the knife. I’d rather not explain to the ER why the Jeon heir cut his hand trying to play chef for me, in my house. The only place he shouldn’t be”
“Relax. Have some faith in me”
Jungkook huffed, rolling his eyes but grinning, clutching his heart dramatically.
“I’m perfectly capable of cooking without bleeding out. Unlike a certain Defense Secretary who apparently can’t even make toast without setting off the fire alarm”
“You are a brat, an asshole to be honest”
Jimin muttered, but his tone carried no heat. If anything, it was fond, extremely so. He stretched back in the chair, letting Jungkook’s voice wash over him, chatter lightening the air in a way no meeting or briefing ever could. He loved his job, but this was his favorite. For a while, Jimin let himself drift, floating in the soothing voice that enveloped him. The rhythmic sound of chopping, the sizzling on the stove, Jungkook’s voice weaving through it all like a song… it blurred, hazy around the edges.
Jimin’s mind tugged at him, drifting back to unfinished tasks, unresolved calls, treaties waiting in his inbox, the meetings he had to attend, the deals he had to sign, the places he had to visit. The room tilted faintly, a moment of dizziness pulling at him before he straightened in his chair, but Jungkook had already noticed. He always noticed.
“Hyung?”
Jungkook’s voice softened instantly, concern slipping through the notes as he abandoned the stove to reach him instantly. His brows knit together into a frown as he crouched down in front of Jimin, hand pressing gently against his thigh.
“You’re swaying. When was the last time you ate?”
Jimin tried to brush it off, tried to lean back with his usual cool smirk as he gripped Jungkook’s shoulder.
“Don’t fuss. I’m fine”
“Fine, my ass”
Jungkook snapped, though his tone was threaded with worry.
“It’s divine”
Jimin replied with a wink and Jungkook swatted the older’s thigh with an eye roll, making Jimin chuckle.
“You look like you’re about to collapse. You can boss the world around and meet the president all day, but you can’t manage three meals. I seriously want to kick your ass”
Jimin’s hand lifted, fingers brushing through Jungkook’s hair in a slow gesture. His smirk curved, teasing even now.
“I don’t need meals when I have you fussing over me. You never shut up… you keep me alive and well fed with sheer noise”
Jungkook glared, but his cheeks warmed as he stood, hands settling on his hips.
“Shut up for once. I’m finishing this, and then I’m feeding you myself, because clearly you can’t be trusted”
Jimin’s chest rumbled with laughter, low and amused, even as he let his head tip against the chair back. The younger placed a kiss on his forehead before stomping back to the stove, muttering curses under his breath, scolding Jimin, the tiny noises grounding in a way nothing else could be.
“You are infuriatingly bossy right now”
Jimin drawled, eyes half-lidded.
“And you love it, don’t complain. Now shut up and let me play nurse before you faint on me. I traveled for almost two hours. I can’t afford that. I need more time with my stubborn boyfriend”
Jungkook shot back, glancing over his shoulder with a quick, bratty grin and added a wink. Dinner didn’t take long as Jungkook moved with quick hands, tossing ingredients into the pan, stirring with focus a little too quickly. Jimin almost found himself falling asleep on the table, but the smell of garlic and sesame filled the kitchen, warm and grounding. Finally, Jungkook plated the food, sliding it onto the table with an exaggerated flourish, pulling a giggle out of Jimin. He walked over, arms crossed.
“Okay. Open up!”
Jimin blinked, arching a brow.
“Open up?”
“Yeah. Because you’re too stubborn to feed yourself properly, I’m doing it for you. And don’t even think about arguing… you’re not winning this one, Secretary Park”
Jungkook said, grabbing a pair of chopsticks, and shaking his head. Jimin chuckled low, leaning back in his chair like he was amused by the audacity of the younger, though he found it absolutely endearing.
“You’re ordering me around now? Dangerous game, baby”
“Dangerous game is you skipping meals for more than twelve hours, darling”
Jungkook snapped back, cheeks puffing slightly as he brought a bite up and squeezed Jimin’s cheeks together.
“Now… open your mouth, or I’ll shove it in”
“Insufferable”
Jimin muttered under his breath, but obediently parted his lips, letting Jungkook slip the food in. He chewed slowly, eyes never leaving the younger as he hummed in delight. He must give it to Jungkook. He is an exceptional cook.
“Good boy”
Jungkook teased, smirking like he knew he was pushing it by mimicking Jimin’s deep tone. Jimin’s gaze sharpened, heat flickering in his eyes, but instead of retorting, he leaned forward, capturing Jungkook’s wrist lightly and placing a kiss there. His voice dropped, husky, protective even.
“Careful how far you take that tone. You’re still mine to ruin”
The words made Jungkook flush crimson, but he shook it off with an exaggerated huff, hiding the blush.
“Not tonight, big man. Tonight, you’re mine. You’re going to eat, drink water, and then I’m putting your ass in bed. You can ruin me tomorrow, any day, any time”
Jimin laughed… an honest, breathless sound that cracked through the fatigue. He threw his head back and choked on the food. He let Jungkook continue feeding him, bite by bite, scolding whenever he tried to pick up his own chopsticks, making little comments in between that almost made his heart feel light. Every second he spent with the younger left him breathless in the most beautiful way possible.
“You look scary on TV, but here you’re just a giant baby”
“Stop staring, Hyung. You’re making me forget what I was saying”
And Jimin let it happen. Let himself be spoiled, let himself relax into Jungkook’s orbit. By the time the plate was empty, his shoulders had dropped, his body loose with something dangerously close to comfort, Jungkook placed the dishes in the sink with a clatter, then turned, hands on his hips again.
“Alright. Bed. Now”
“Ordering me again?”
Jimin teased, though his voice was softer, lower.
“Yes”
Jungkook said firmly, striding over and tugging Jimin up by the wrist.
“You’re exhausted. Don’t even try to deny it. You’re swaying every other second, and if you think I’m letting you pass out in this damn kitchen, you’re insane. This is for other purposes, not for sleeping”
Jimin let himself be pulled, the weight of his body leaning just enough to remind Jungkook of his exhaustion. But as they walked down the hall, his free hand slid around Jungkook’s waist, pulling him close, protective even now as he pushed Jungkook against the wall, lips inches away.
“You fuss too much, baby”
“And you don’t fuss enough”
Jungkook shot back, adjusting his hold around the neck so Jimin didn’t stumble. A smile left the latter’s lips as he pressed their lips together, one hand curling around Jungkook’s waist as the other gripped the neck, tilting him a little so Jimin could have better access. Jungkook pulled away after a few minutes, leaving a wet peck on Jimin’s cheek.
“Now shut up, and let me take care of you for once”
For once. The words hit Jimin in the chest harder than he expected, sinking deep. He pulled Jungkook into a hug, and pressed a kiss into the hair, a silent thank you. And as Jungkook guided him to bed, stripping off his shirt, pushing him gently onto the mattress, Jimin realized… This was the only battlefield he wanted to lose.
✦ ══ 🏛️ ══ ✦
Of all the ways Jimin thought his morning could begin, this wasn’t one he had accounted for. He had collapsed into sleep like a baby, the kind of sleep he hadn’t tasted in weeks, maybe months, body giving in the moment Jungkook curled into him like some stubborn, warm-blooded koala. Jimin didn’t even remember closing his eyes, only the heaviness lifting off his shoulders for a fleeting few hours. The first thing he registered was the sunlight, bright and merciless against his face, dragging him reluctantly from the depths of peaceful rest.
The second was the pressure… weight settling against his lap, a pulse of pleasure curling low in his belly before his mind could even piece everything together. A low groan escaped his throat as he blinked awake, lashes fluttering against the light. And then he saw him. Jungkook, perched on his lap like a vision torn from his most dangerous and nastiest dreams. Head tipped back, lips parted, piercings shining, hair falling into his face as his body moved with lazy rhythm, every roll of his hips sin carved in sunlight. Naked skin glowed golden under the sharp rays bleeding into the room, each sound that tumbled from his throat echoing in the still air like a sinful song Jimin wasn’t holy enough to answer.
Jimin’s breath caught, chest rising with something feral, something possessive. His hands twitched at his sides before finding their place on Jungkook’s thighs, gripping and squeezing, fingers digging into soft flesh as if to anchor himself in the reality of it.
“You really have no shame, fuck”
Jimin rasped, voice rough from sleep but dripping with authority. His gaze trailed lazily over Jungkook’s body, hungry and dark.
“Riding me while I’m sleeping? Do you know how desperate you look, sweetheart?”
But Jungkook only moaned louder, as if agreeing to his every word, hips pressing down harder, chasing friction with a recklessness that made Jimin’s blood burn. Jungkook’s bratty demeanor was written all over the smug curl of his mouth, as he stared at Jimin with glossy eyes, but his trembling thighs, the whimper slipping free as Jimin tightened his grip, told a different story… one of need, of surrender. Jimin’s thumb stroked slow circles against Jungkook’s bare skin before his hand shot up to grip his jaw, forcing his head down until their eyes locked.
“You play the brat, but the moment I breathe you in…”
His gaze raked down Jungkook’s body, lingering on the way he rolled against him, needy and undone, a total mess
“A pathetic little toy, begging to be ruined”
Jungkook whimpered, breath catching, his defiance faltering under the weight of Jimin’s stare and the way his cheeks were squished together. His hands, once pressing into Jimin’s chest, curled instead around his shoulders, clutching the sheets beneath him for purchase. Jimin smirked. Perfect.
“Ride me slower, darling. Make me watch you suffer for it”
Jungkook bit down on his lip, tongue poking the inside of his cheek, a feeble attempt at resistance, trying to act unaffected, but his hips obeyed… slowing, grinding in languid rolls that made him whine, and whimper with the denial of what he craved. His nails dug into Jimin’s skin, but the older man only laughed, dark and satisfied as he watched Jungkook’s cock leak pathetically, hard against the abs.
“Good boy”
Jimin purred, letting the praise hit sharp, eliciting a cute whimper. His free hand slid down, fingers brushing teasingly along Jungkook’s slick length, nail pressing into the slit, not enough to soothe, just enough to make him shudder a little too violently.
“So obedient when you’re fucked stupid. Keep looking at me, sweetheart”
Jungkook’s eyes fluttered, glossy with desire, but he forced them open, forcing himself to drown in Jimin’s dark gaze. Every order carved deeper into him, stripping away his bratty armor until only hunger and obedience remained.
“Touch yourself”
Jimin commanded, releasing his grip on the younger’s cock, and dragging a thumb over his swollen lower lip.
“But not too fast. I want to hear every sound you try to choke back”
Jungkook obeyed instantly with a frantic nod, hand wrapping around himself with a shaky breath, hips still moving in torturously slow circles against Jimin. Every whimper, every broken moan filled the room, and Jimin drank in each one, his smirk widening.
“Kiss… please, kiss me, Hyung”
That was all Jimin needed. He hooked a finger under Jungkook’s dangling silver chain and yanked him down, capturing his mouth in a messy, consuming kiss. The pitiful cries, the broken whimpers… all swallowed into Jimin’s mouth as he sucked at Jungkook’s lips, devouring him, tasting him like he had all the time in the world. Jungkook clenched hard around him with every roll of his hips, dragging curses from the older’s throat. Jimin’s hands slid down to grip the swell of Jungkook’s ass, holding him still for a moment before thrusting up hard, burying himself deeper.
Jungkook tore his mouth away with a strangled gasp, head falling, and Jimin took the opportunity to mouth along his throat, biting down, then soothing the sting with soft, wet, and lingering kisses.
“You are fucking perfect, Jungkook-ah. Always mine”
Jungkook’s reply was incoherent, a wrecked mix of moans and pleas, his body trembling as Jimin set a steady rhythm, fucking up into him mercilessly. Every thrust drew Jungkook closer, his hands fisting the sheets, his body desperate, needy. Jimin caught his lips again, kissing him through every sound, every gasp. It didn’t take long… Jungkook was already too far gone. With a broken cry muffled into the crook of Jimin’s neck, his release painted across their stomachs, his body shuddering violently as he clenched down on Jimin’s cock.
That was all it took for Jimin to lose his composure, his thrusts going rougher, deeper, chasing his own release until he spilled inside him with a groan, his hold tightening around the younger’s waist. Jimin pressed kisses across Jungkook’s damp skin… his jaw, his swollen lips, the curve of his shoulder, the collarbones, the pulse fluttering in his neck. Jungkook slumped against him, trembling. Jimin cradled him close, one hand rubbing gentle circles into his back.
“Breathe, sweetheart. Hyung’s got you”
He whispered, lips brushing his temple as he pressed a lingering kiss there. For long moments, Jimin just held him there, letting the silence wrap around them. He had to leave in two hours, but for now, this was enough. Then, with a small smile, he tilted Jungkook’s chin and kissed him again… slower.
“You drive me insane… so beautiful when you fall apart for me”
Jungkook whined softly and managed a little smile, but didn’t move, nestling closer as Jimin shifted them down against the sheets, tugging the blanket up. He threaded his fingers through Jungkook’s damp hair and kissed his forehead.
“Sleep”
Jimin murmured, his voice lower now, protective and soft.
“I’ll take care of everything else. Just let me have you like this for a while”
“I love you”
Jungkook mumbled sleepily, and Jimin only sighed fondly.
“Hyung loves you too”
Jungkook hummed, drifting off and letting himself be tucked into Jimin’s chest, safe and worshipped, while Jimin held him as if he were the only thing in the world worth protecting.
✦ ══ 🏛️ ══ ✦
Jungkook slipped out of the Ferrari, straightening his oversized hoodie, running a hand through his messy hair, desperately trying to look presentable as if it could shield him from the weight pressing down on his shoulders. He gave a brief nod to the guards stationed by the gates before striding up the pebbled path and marble steps and through the grand entrance of the Jeon estate. The air inside was as heavy as he had expected it to be, too suffocating, and the moment he crossed the threshold, he sighed, dreading the events that might unfold.
The sight that greeted Jungkook was all too familiar… his father seated at the head of the long mahogany table in the drawing room, flanked by a circle of business partners and seasoned politicians, well-known names in their respective fields. Cigars in crystal trays, whiskey glasses gleamed in the lamplight, and the conversation flowed sharp and deliberate: elections, campaign funds, backroom deals, and strategies that would keep the Jeon conglomerate’s chosen party in power. He didn’t need to step in and listen to know that the conversation would irk him. Jungkook lingered at the edge for a moment, watching his father’s commanding presence fill the room through the glass door.
And beneath it all, beneath all the fuss and pretense, the bitter reminder: his family’s empire funded Jimin’s rivals. The Republican party... more reason for them to always stay low and cautious. Every dollar funneled into those campaigns was a dagger aimed at the man and his thoughts Jungkook couldn’t stay away from. Suppressing another sigh, he slipped past unnoticed, choosing not to get caught in the gravity of politics or business that had never truly been his. His feet carried him toward the balcony where laughter and familiar voices spilled into the early morning.
There, leaning against the carved railings with coffee in hand, were his cousins… Namjoon and Hoseok were always the first to notice everything he didn’t want noticed. They had the eyes of a hawk, and they felt more like brothers than his own brother, who was a puppet to his father, the future CEO of the Jeon conglomerate. Their attention snapped to him the moment he joined.
“Well, well… Look who finally decided to crawl back from his secret rendezvous”
Namjoon cocked a brow with a teasing smile while Hoseok’s gaze swept down and lingered on his walk, and a wicked smirk followed.
“Kook, are you limping or am I imagining things?”
Heat crept into Jungkook’s cheeks, but he rolled his eyes, tugging the hood lower over his face.
“Shut up”
Jungkook muttered, reaching for a coffee on the table. The bitter taste grounded him, but not enough to erase the sharp edge of regret. He should have gone straight to the hospital instead of dragging himself back here. It had been nearly a week since his last visit, and though guilt tugged at him, he knew he couldn’t sit for an entire day surrounded by people who were mere humans in a huge mansion. Not when the weight of his family’s world pressed so heavily on him. Only his cousins felt like an exception, an escape. But his so-called escape was already circling him like sharks, ready to feed off him.
“Shut up?”
Namjoon snorted, glaring at Jungkook playfully.
“Says the guy limping into the house. Don’t tell me you actually let him fuck you stupid”
The balcony erupted in laughter, and Hoseok chimed in, wiggling his brows.
“Forget fucked stupid… look at his face. That’s a man who hasn’t slept all night. Desk sex this time? The shower? Or are you just recycling locations now?”
Jungkook groaned, his cheeks flushed pink, dropping into a chair with his coffee like a shield.
“You’re all insufferable, but not all night”
“That’s not a total denial. We are getting somewhere”
Hoseok shot back, grinning like he’d won, only for Jungkook to scowl at him.
“Jungkook-ah”
Namjoon said slowly, almost carefully after they were done with their teasing.
“You do realize what you’re playing with, don’t you?”
Jungkook stiffened, forcing a lazy shrug. He had been to many of these lecture parties, and though he didn’t have any heart left to be the listener again, he also understood that they were concerned. As they should be, but he hated it whenever they tried to downplay the relationship.
“Playing? I’m not playing, Hyung”
Namjoon leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
“Jeons fund the party that’s clawing for power against him. The Republicans. Against everything he represents. You’re not the heir… your brother is, and you’ve never cared for politics or business, which is a good thing, but, if anything happens, the headlines won’t destroy you. They’ll destroy him. Park Jimin isn’t just a mere politician or someone who gets forgotten in a day, he’s the Secretary of Defense. The entire nation watches him. One rumor, one slip, and it could cost him everything”
The laughter faded into silence. Even Hoseok, ever the instigator, bit his lips at Namjoon’s words. Jungkook’s grip on his coffee tightened, eyes flicking toward the city glowing warm beyond the balcony. For a moment, doubt pricked at him, sharp and unwelcome. Namjoon wasn’t wrong. The scandal wouldn’t stick to him... it would roll off. But Jimin? Jimin carried the weight of the nation on his back. Jungkook faltered. Just for a heartbeat. And then his lips curled, sharp and defiant. He leaned back in his chair, one leg thrown carelessly over the other.
“Hyung… You all really think this is just sex?”
Jungkook’s voice cut through the air, low and furious. He let out a harsh laugh, shaking his head. It felt silly how they could see nothing except the horrifying details of his relationship, which wouldn't even cover ten percent of it. They might be unhinged and crazy, but being together just for sex doesn't last for two years.
“You think I’m sneaking around, risking everything for a good fuck, and that too for two damn years?”
His gaze snapped toward Namjoon and Hoseok, daring them to answer. He could have been quiet about it, because they genuinely looked concerned, but it’s been two years, and yet they didn’t really encourage his relationship, though they never opposed it.
“He’s not a fling. He’s not a dirty little secret. Or he is some sort of playboy who will dump me after a while. I fucking love him and he loves me right back”
Namjoon and Hoseok exchanged uneasy glances, but Jungkook wasn’t done. His coffee slammed onto the table, liquid splashing the rim, forgotten.
“We know the risks. Every fucking one of them. And we chose it anyway. Because I’m not a coward who’ll throw away something I love just because I’m scared of headlines”
His voice rose, sharp with venom.
“I know you both are concerned, but do you think I’ll sit here and let anyone drag his name through the dirt? Trust me, I am gonna rip them apart. Every soul that even whispers against him, I’d burn them to the ground if I had to”
“Jungkook-ah…”
Namjoon began, steady as ever, slightly budging, but still defiant.
“No, Hyung”
Jungkook cut him off, eyes flashing, jaw tight.
“You don’t get it. He isn’t just the Secretary of Defense to me. He’s Jimin. The man who makes me feel like I matter, the man who seriously makes me feel at peace. The man who holds me when I can’t even stand myself. You think I’d give that up because of politics? Because of my fucked up family bullshit? Fuck that. Fuck all of that, and everyone who dares speak about him or us”
The balcony was tense, the silence after Jungkook’s outburst thick enough to choke on. Hoseok whistled low, shaking his head.
“Shit. He’s gone, isn’t he?”
“Whipped and dangerous”
Namjoon added with a smirk, though softer this time, less worried, but still hesitant. Hoseok sighed, dragging a hand down his face.
“I swear, one day, you’ll be the death of us. But… damn, if you don’t sound serious, Kook”
Namjoon still watched him, and then finally, he exhaled.
“I just don’t want to see him hurt. Or you. That’s all I care about”
Jungkook huffed.
“You won’t, Hyung. Because I won’t let it happen. I might be sounding cliché, but I truly mean it. He’s mine, and anyone who wants to touch him has to get through me first. I’m not exaggerating at all”
Hoseok clapped Jungkook on the back, almost knocking the coffee out of his hands, trying to lighten the mood.
“Fine, fine. You’d die for him, kill for him, live for him. You’re disgusting”
Namjoon’s mouth twitched into a half-smile, then he folded his hands, turning the mood practical again. They could have this conversation later, and he just hoped they wouldn't get caught in some crossfire.
“Also, Jungkook-ah… The charity gala is tomorrow night. Company thing. Business partners, donors, VIPs, and politicians. You know the drill. You’re expected to attend. And yes, there’s a plus-one policy this year”
Jungkook’s face fell into a dramatic groan that had his friends laughing.
“A plus one? Are you kidding me?”
Hoseok just shrugged, winking at Jungkook.
“I hate those things. I hate smiling for the camera. I hate pretending to care about the stock market and fake philanthropy without knowing the spellings”
“You could always not go, but…”
Hoseok offered with a smirk, but Namjoon shook his head.
“Not an option. Your presence matters… public face, image, all that. You are the youngest son of the great Jeon Jinyoung. Your father’s already annoyed we’re letting you be a free agent by allowing you to pursue medicine”
Jungkook slumped lower into his chair, lips forming a pout, and he rested his cheek on his palm.
“Great. So I have to attend a night of boring events and then pretend to be upright for three hours or more. And bring someone? That’s humiliating when it’s not Jimin”
“You could always bring a friend. You have plenty”
Namjoon suggested, with a small grin.
“A model, an actress, maybe your colleague, or someone from the hospital”
“Nope. I’m not parading some hired smile to fill my arms”
Jungkook paused, lips widening into a stupid, whipped smile.
“I wish I could drag Jimin there… imagine the headlines. The look on dad’s face when he catches us making out at the event”
Hoseok winked at him, but Namjoon’s expression hardened fractionally.
“You know that’s impossible. You dragging him would be… reckless. Dangerous”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but the brat in him was already plotting, mischief brightening his features.
“Impossible doesn’t mean boring, Hyung. Fine. I know I can never do that, which actually sucks, but if I can’t make him attend, I’ll amuse myself in the best way I know how. Amuse both of us actually”
He set his coffee down with a decisive clack.
“I’ll make sure he knows I’m thinking about him the whole damn night. Let him stir in the thought of me grinning across a ballroom with a partner while he’s stuck in negotiations”
Namjoon watched him for a long beat, then sighed.
“Just… don’t give the media anything. You already promised you’d be careful, Kook”
“I promised, yes, but I didn’t promise to be boring. Let him choke on his coffee after the pictures, Hyung”
.
.
.
The conference room was dim with pale white lights illuminating it faintly, but heavy with tension that almost stretched Jimin thin, the walls alive with muted voices and the shuffle of papers. Jimin sat at the head of the table, jaw tight, gaze sharp as a siren, as he reviewed the latest draft of the UAE defense contract. Every word felt like a landmine, every clause an attempt to corner the U.S. into a compromise he couldn’t allow. He had gone through this a hundred times, but somehow it was getting fucked at the last moment.
“We can’t give them that level of access. It should be limited, and the control should be in our hands. It undermines our own fleet’s security if we agree to this”
Jimin said firmly, pinching the bridge of his nose, his voice even though he felt his head splitting in half. The staff shifted nervously before him, scribbling notes, some nodding, others pressing for alternatives. Jimin’s tie was slightly loosened, but the sheer authority in his posture made the air feel stifling and hot. And then…
Bzzz. Bzzz.
The sharp vibration of his phone on the rosewood table cut through the room. Very wrong choice. He should’ve left his personal phone with his assistant. Every head flicked toward it. Jimin didn’t move, didn’t even glance at the device. His hand curled into a fist on the table instead.
“Let’s just focus”
Jimin said, as if daring anyone to acknowledge the intrusion. He shouldn’t have brought it inside.
Bzzz. Bzzz. Bzzz.
The calls came again, insistent. Jimin’s jaw ticked, his eyes narrowing just slightly as he pressed his palm flat over the folder in front of him, trying to ground himself. The screen lit up, Jungkook’s number flashing boldly against it with just a black heart. He couldn’t risk it. For a fraction of a second, Jimin’s mask cracked… a flicker of exasperation, almost fond, before the stone façade returned.
“Secretary Park, should we…”
One advisor started, tone hesitant.
“No. We’ll proceed”
His tone brooked no argument, and the phone buzzed again, and again. Jimin’s fingers tapped once on the table, betraying the faintest edge of distraction. He knew exactly what Jungkook was doing… he could imagine him, smirking into his phone, sprawled somewhere in his ridiculous hoodie, deliberately pushing, demanding attention Jimin couldn’t afford to give right now. It was cute, it honestly was, but now Jimin was just running on sheer will, and he was losing it. Jimin straightened, voice dropping an octave lower.
“Gentlemen, either we revise this clause with terms that protect our position, or the deal is dead. Choose wisely, and we will meet again after lunch at 3 sharp”
Chairs scraped as the room emptied, everyone’s eyes still lingering on the buzzing phone, aides rushing to gather papers, ministers exchanging hushed words. The heavy door shut, sealing Jimin into silence at last after a grueling hour. He exhaled harshly, dragging a hand through his hair, fatigue sinking into his shoulders. His phone buzzed again, and Jimin’s jaw clenched.
“Fuck’s sake!”
He muttered, snatching it up and stabbing the answer button without a thought with an exaggerated force.
“What the hell do you want?”
Jimin snapped, voice sharp, frayed at the edges as he slammed his palm against the temple.
“Ohhh…”
Jungkook mumbled instantly, smug and sweet all at once, as if he knew what he had just done.
“There he is. Mr. Secretary himself. Took you long enough, Hyung”
Jimin’s jaw flexed, his teeth grinding. Of course. Of course, Jungkook would meet his temper with that maddeningly casual tone, as though he hadn’t just blown up Jimin’s phone during a meeting that could tip international defense contracts and put everyone at risk. His knuckles whitened around the phone, anger bubbling under his skin.
“You think this is a joke?”
Jimin hissed, his voice low and dangerous. He could feel himself tremble in the seat, head pounding hard.
“Do you have any idea how reckless it is to keep calling when I’m in the middle of negotiations, Jungkook? I have ministers breathing down my neck, I might have to fly to the UAE on a whim, and the last thing I need is you treating this like some kind of game”
Jimin’s tone cracked like a whip, sharp enough to make Jungkook go silent on the other end. The stupid, squeaky, and warming tone faltered for a heartbeat. But when the younger spoke again, the softness was hidden behind a thin veil of stubbornness.
“What? You’re mad because I wanted to talk to you?”
Jungkook replied, still too calm, still too light, as if he was poking at Jimin on purpose, and nothing fazed him at all. That was it. Jimin could feel himself losing his cool as he stared at the texts popping up on the screen before him, which needed his attention.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Jungkook!”
Jimin snapped, his voice cutting through the silence like a molten blade. There was no warmth in his tone.
“You knew I was in meetings. You fucking knew I couldn’t pick up, and you kept calling anyway. Do you have any idea what that does? How it looks? You think I can just drop everything because you’re bored or in the mood to annoy me?”
The words came out sharper than he intended, dripping with the weight of his exhaustion and the endless pressure clawing at him. Jimin’s chest heaved once, twice, anger sparking hotter than it should. He hated this, hated raising his voice ever, but things had been extremely hectic since the moment they received the proposal from the UAE with new added clauses and demands. On the other end, silence. No bratty retort. No teasing laugh. Just silence. The stillness made Jimin’s stomach twist. He waited for a few moments, but received nothing in return, and he squeezed his eyes shut, dragging in a breath through his teeth. What was he doing? Jungkook wasn’t one of the vultures clawing at him in that boardroom. He wasn’t the enemy. He was the only person Jimin wanted to hear, the one who made the world feel lighter, and he’d just scorched him with words meant for someone else.
“Sweetheart…”
Jimin’s voice dropped, quieter and softer now. He leaned forward, pinching the bridge of his nose, fighting down the ache and guilt in his chest.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have… I didn’t mean to take it out on you. I’m just… things are nasty. And I know you were only trying to reach me. Hyung is sorry”
There was a beat of silence, and Jimin had never felt worse, when Jungkook’s voice, soft and warm, cut right through Jimin’s guilt.
“It’s okay, Hyung”
Two words. Gentle, forgiving. Jungkook could’ve teased him, could’ve pressed harder, but he didn’t. Instead, he soothed, and Jimin felt stupid. He let out a shuddering sigh, leaning back into his chair. His anger drained out, replaced by the sharp sting of affection. He didn’t deserve someone this patient, this good.
“I just… missed you, and I also have something to tell you”
The usual glint was back in Jungkook’s tone, and Jimin’s lips curved, relief loosening his chest. He’d make up for the outburst later.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“I’ll be at the business gala tonight”
Jungkook answered, too casually, and Jimin knew there was a catch.
“Not on my own free will, and since they’re making us bring a plus one… I thought I’d take someone gorgeous. Elegant, stunning, the kind of woman who turns every head in the room”
The silence that followed was deliberate, bait hanging in the air. Jungkook waited, half-smirking to himself, expecting Jimin’s clipped demand, that edge of jealousy he secretly loved. But Jimin only hummed. Calm. Unbothered because he knew Jungkook would be playing with his lip rings, waiting for the reply he loved, but Jimin wouldn’t give that.
“Mm. Sounds like she’ll have a nice evening then”
Jimin replied evenly, flipping through the papers in front of him as if they mattered more than Jungkook’s little game. They didn’t, but he would play along.
“That’s it? You’re not even curious? She will be with me throughout the night. Are you not even jealous?”
Jungkook’s voice sharpened, and Jimin suppressed a fond chuckle.
“Jealous? I am afraid I am not jealous at all”
Jimin heard a sigh and a huff.
“That’s not fair at all, Mr. Park. You would see my face all over the news with a woman on my arm”
“Darling, we both know you could walk into that gala on the arm of the most beautiful woman or man alive, and you’d still be thinking about how good my hand feels around your throat. How you beg when I’ve got your legs spread open and crying for it”
Jungkook’s breath caught, sharp and shaky through the receiver. Jimin smirked, a laugh slipping past his lips.
“So take her, if you want. Just remember whose name you’ll end up moaning when you are finally done with the pretense”
Jimin waited for a few seconds and chuckled when he got the sulky mumble he knew was coming.
“You are such an ass, Hyung”
“And yet you’re still the one calling me nonstop during meetings. Maybe you like it when I’m an ass. You definitely love it”
“I wanted you to get jealous, not… ”
Jungkook cut himself off, frustrated, groaning under his breath, and Jimin nodded to no one in particular, clearly enjoying this, his body relaxing.
“Not say shit like that while I’m in the backseat of a car with people two feet away from me”
“Oh? Are you getting hard already? From just my voice and a few sweet words?”
“Shut up for once”
Jungkook hissed, but it was weak, shaky… more plea than command. Jimin could almost see the flush painting his cheeks, the way he’d tug at his lip piercings to hide it, thighs pressing together out of instinct.
“You’ll sulk all you want, but we both know the truth. You don’t care about those women, those galas, or any of it. You want me to be jealous because you want me to ruin you. You don’t even have to ask for it, baby”
Jungkook went quiet, breath heavy, nothing but the sound of him biting back a whimper through the line, and Jimin knew what would follow.
“God, you’re such a bastard. I hate that I love you. Goodbye”
Jungkook muttered at last, voice small, almost needy, and the line went dead. Jimin let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair as he stared at the blank screen. He definitely needed that, but now, his heart thumped with anticipation the night would bring, because it would be so much fun.
✦ ══ 🏛️ ══ ✦
“Must’ve felt great, prancing around and giggling like a desperate bitch at the gala, didn’t it?”
Jimin growled, each word punctuated by a hard thrust as he drove up into Jungkook. He yanked the younger’s hips up, forcing himself deeper, and Jungkook’s breath hitched into a broken moan. The boy’s legs were locked tight around Jimin’s waist, wrists bound to the bedpost with Jungkook’s own favorite tie… a delicious humiliation. Jimin’s mouth found the soft curve of his throat, teeth grazing and biting just enough to make Jungkook gasp and cry out; the sounds tightened something hot and possessive in Jimin’s chest.
“They don’t get to touch what’s mine, and you let her kiss your cheek. Didn’t expect that, darling”
Jimin’s hand flattened across Jungkook’s stomach, fingers splaying, pinning him to the bed as he fucked him with an animalistic rhythm. He met every tilt of Jungkook’s hips with force, watching that bratty mask melt into a wide, glassy need with tears streaming down his cheeks. Jungkook’s replies were little broken whimpers. He took Jimin’s words… the degradations and the praises like scripture, answering every command with a shuddered, eager obedience and nod of his head.
“Hyung… please -”
He begged, voice raw, and the plea only made Jimin smile, darker. Without warning, he pulled out, leaving Jungkook clenching helplessly around nothing. The needy whine cracked into a loud, breathless gasp as Jimin flipped him over, manhandling him until he was on his stomach. A rough hand pressed between his shoulder blades, forcing his chest down into the mattress, hips angled up obscenely so his ass was presented high. Jimin didn’t waste a second… his palm came down in a sharp, punishing smack over Jungkook’s swollen, fluttering hole, the sound ringing in the air before it dissolved into Jungkook’s broken cry.
“Hyung!”
He wailed, voice shaking, but the protest melted instantly into a strangled moan when Jimin slammed back into him in one brutal stroke.
“Shut up and take it”
Jimin snarled, fucking into him like a beast. His thrusts were merciless, the wet sound of their bodies colliding filling the room. Jungkook’s arms gave out, cheek pressed against the sheets as his mouth spilled every obscene sound Jimin dragged from him. Every thrust was a punishment, and he loved every second of it. Jimin’s grip on his waist was bruising, dragging him back onto his cock with no mercy, grinding deep enough that Jungkook’s vision blurred with tears that refused to stop. He couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe… just moaned and trembled with every drag of the cock inside him.
“You wanted to tease me with your little games? Bring up that fucking gala, make me jealous?”
Jimin’s voice was low, feral, hips snapping forward harder with every word. His free hand slid up to Jungkook’s hair, yanking his head back so he could hear the wrecked cries spill out.
“Look at you now… drooling, begging, nothing but a hole for me to use”
Jungkook sobbed from the sheer overwhelming intensity, his body trembling and giving Jimin everything as his eyes rolled back.
“Y-yes, Hyung… please, don’t stop, don’t stop -”
“Mine. You are fucking mine to ruin”
Jimin’s growl vibrated against his ear, his thrusts growing rougher, more desperate as he hit the prostate dead on.
“All yours. Always, fuck!”
Jungkook gasped, voice shaking, words inaudible, as his body gave way, clenching hard around him. Jimin’s palm pressed down harder between Jungkook’s shoulder blades, forcing him to arch and keep his ass high, spread wide for him.
“I would love to have you split open on my cock every second”
Jimin spat, removing the tie, and yanking Jungkook’s wrists, locking them behind his back just to bend him totally in half, pounding into him from a new angle that made the younger scream. He leaned in close, teeth catching Jungkook’s earlobe before biting down hard enough to sting.
“You’d spread your legs anywhere if I told you to. You’d take it on this bed, on my desk, in front of your daddy’s men just to make me proud, wouldn’t you?”
“I will… you can fuck me anywhere, Hyung”
Jimin chuckled darkly, filthy satisfaction dripping from every word as he nibbled on the ear lobe, before yanking the hair to tilt the face and connect their lips in a messy kiss.
“I’m going to keep ruining this tight hole until you can’t walk. Until you feel me leaking out of you for days”
He fucked him harder, his free hand snaking under Jungkook’s body to fist his cock, jerking him in rough strokes that matched his thrusts.
“Come for me, sweetheart. Paint my hand like the slut you are”
The thrusts were devastating, and Jungkook’s scream broke into a loud, strangled cry as he spilled over Jimin’s fist, body convulsing, walls clamping down on Jimin’s cock. That tight, desperate squeeze ripped a curse from Jimin’s throat, and with one last brutal thrust he spilled inside, grinding hard as if to push it deeper, to mark him from the inside out. Even as they shuddered through the aftershocks, Jimin didn’t stop grinding slowly.
“You are the sweetest”
Jimin whispered, pressing a kiss to Jungkook’s damp cheek. He didn’t move right away. He let the words hang in the air a moment longer, letting the last tremor ripple through Jungkook’s body until the younger’s breath slowed and softened. Then, with a slow, deliberate gentleness, he pulled out, careful not to move the younger’s shaking limbs. He rolled Jungkook onto his back and braced him there. One hand reached for the damp towel on the bedside table; the other cupped Jungkook’s face, thumb brushing away the tears at the corner of his eye.
“Look at me, Jungkook-ie”
Jimin murmured, voice full of warmth, the desire gone like fog. Jungkook’s lids fluttered open, glassy and sleepy. Jimin cleaned him with gentle motions… wiping sweat from his forehead, tracing along the bruises on the neck, collarbones, and chest he’d left with featherlight finger tips, kissing each spot as if apologizing with love. His touch was the opposite of how he’d taken Jungkook.
“You okay, love?”
He asked, running the pad of his thumb across Jungkook’s cheek bone. The younger hiccuped a laugh that turned into a wet, small sob.
“Yeah”
Jungkook breathed.
“You… Hyung, you’re ridiculous”
“You’re ridiculous and so fucking gorgeous”
Jimin countered, but the teasing was softer. He gathered Jungkook in his arms, folding him into a cradle against his chest, pressing a kiss to the temple. Jungkook’s cheek fit under Jimin’s chin like it belonged there; the younger pressed in, fingers wrapping around Jimin’s waist as if anchoring himself to something real. Jimin hummed once, before he mumbled sweetly.
“Don’t go anywhere. Stay the night. Let’s eat dinner. I’ll make sure you don’t move for the rest of the night”
He peppered the top of Jungkook’s head with quick, wet kisses, alternating between silly little pecks and long, patient presses that meant homes and apologies and promises all at once. Jungkook could decipher the hidden plea, and he didn’t even plan on leaving anyway. Jimin ran his hands along the sides, massaging the muscles, and when Jungkook flinched at a sore spot, Jimin paused, face contorting in concern.
“Does it hurt?”
The domesticity made Jungkook snort out a laugh that was almost giddy, because only Jimin could flip from beast to caretaker in the blink of an eye. He squirmed a little in the sheets, cheeks tinted pink as he nuzzled closer.
“Good kind of hurt. I am all good, Hyung, and…”
“Mhm”
“I have this Calvin Klein show coming up. And the fitting’s in three days. Will you… accompany me?”
The corner of Jimin’s mouth curved into a teasing smile. He leaned down, lips ghosting Jungkook’s lips.
“A fitting? For Calvin Klein? God, the thought alone…”
His chuckle vibrated against Jungkook’s skin, wicked and teasing.
“Do you even know how pretty you’ll look? Strutting around half-naked with people staring? Hm?”
Jungkook swatted at him weakly, biting back a little smile that betrayed him instantly.
“Hyung, stop, and just so you know, I will be fully clothed”
“Stop?”
Jimin murmured, lips brushing his ear now as he pressed a kiss to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth.
“You’ll look so pretty. And the worst part is, I won’t even touch you until after. That’s cruel, Jungkook-ah”
Jungkook groaned, hiding his face in Jimin’s chest with the roll of his eyes as if that would muffle the warmth climbing his ears.
“Stop being disgusting for once”
“Oh. I will”
Jimin smirked, stroking down the younger’s spine until Jungkook melted like butter against him.
“I’ll try my best to be there. Saturday, right?”
“Yeah”
Jimin sighed, leaning his head back against the pillow and almost pulling Jungkook on top of him.
“I’m supposed to fly out to the UAE on Sunday morning for the minister’s little games. But for you?”
He tipped Jungkook’s chin up until the younger was forced to meet his eyes.
“For you, I’ll clear everything I can. I promise”
Jungkook pouted, but the faintest pink stained his cheeks, a mix of pride and shyness.
“You better. Or I’ll make sure to kick your ass, and don’t you think I would look kinda stupid standing there without my… scary Defense Secretary boyfriend glaring holes into anyone who stares a little too much”
That made Jimin laugh.
“Firstly, no one knows we are together, and you want me there to scare off your admirers? I bet they would fall in love with me”
“Oh, if they so much as gawk at you, I am gonna rip their eyes”
Jimin only grinned wider at the statement, catching Jungkook’s wrist and kissing the inside of it before pressing him back against his chest.
“Brat”