Chapter Text
It’s an open secret.
Not a bad one, or a particularly scandalous one, unless you’re of the inclination that sex is some shameful act to be kept in the shadows—no, it’s an open secret and fairly common knowledge that, should your spouse be unwilling to get between your legs and service your cock, the courtesans down by the harbors will accommodate you.
Not the women, though.
The only ones who are willing, and enthusiastic even, are the men who work there.
Seokjin knows this now, first simply seeking the pleasure that his marriage lacks, then searching for someone who desires more than just a quick fuck in a damp alleyway, someone to match both his appetite and his energy, someone who views sex as neither indecent nor a duty to fulfill.
Someone like Jungkook.
The first time Seokjin sees him is under a row of street lamps, the orange light accentuating the shimmer on his cheeks and the divots of his exposed chest. He’s gorgeous, boyishly handsome with delicate features and years of experience packed in his sturdy frame.
Jungkook sees him approach, big eyes immediately lighting up with genuine interest and enthusiasm; Seokjin doesn’t have high expectations but the second he shares his request in low tones, Jungkook is dropping to his knees right there on the pavement, beyond eager to dig Seokjin’s cock free from his trousers.
Everything about him is sweet and open, his little delighted gasp when he first sees Seokjin’s cock, the small moans and whines when he gets it in his mouth, eyes sparkling as he curiously contemplates the taste of Seokjin before deciding he very much likes it. The way his hips rut forward in little aborted movements, the way he lets himself get messy, drool dripping down his chin, how he meets Seokjin’s eyes and holds his gaze, wet and teary and hungry, without a single ounce of shame.
Seokjin is addicted.
~~
“God, you’re so—”
Jungkook pulls back with a slick, wet sound, his hand immediately coming up to replace his mouth, pumping Seokjin’s cock with a pressure that has him clenching his jaw hard.
“Uh huh? I’m so what, hm?” Jungkook stares up at him with an impish smile, knowing full well by now the effect that he has on Seokjin.
“You’re a menace,” he grits out, fingers in Jungkook’s hair gripping tight. “A vixen, a little demon sent to rob me of my sanity—”
“Ahh,” Jungkook hums playfully, and then he’s sucking Seokjin down again, holding his hips so there’s nowhere for him to go but further down the constricting heat of Jungkook’s throat. His nose bumps against heated skin and he looks up from under wet lashes and hums again, long and low.
Seokjin doubles over, cradling Jungkook’s head between his legs as his body bows in half. He’s dizzy with the pleasure zipping through him like a pulse of electric shock, the heat in his gut roiling and bubbling higher and higher, heart thumping insistently in his throat and he can’t catch his breath around it; the second Jungkook darts his little pink tongue out underneath his dick to lap at his balls, Seokjin is gone.
He comes hard, without warning, watches Jungkook swallow it all down like he can’t get enough and very nearly comes again at the sight of that.
Jungkook continues to lap at his cock like a puppy, ignoring the ache in his knees and Seokjin’s whimpers of oversensitivity until he’s bodily pushed away.
They catch their breath for a moment, Seokjin’s legs making a valiant effort to not buckle beneath his weight and the force of his orgasm. Jungkook pushes himself to stand, dabs daintily at his lips with the back of his hand, and croaks out, “Was I good?”
And Seokjin, Seokjin looks over at Jungkook, his mischievous smile and fantastically swollen mouth, the pure smug satisfaction in his expression, and knows that from now until the end of time he’ll tell Jungkook anything he wants to hear. “The very best, baby,” he breathes, shuts his eyes to collect himself. Lazily tucks himself back into his pants, and zips himself up. “There’s no one better than you.”
“You’ve tried every mouth along the docks, then?” Jungkook teases, pulling out a mirror and beginning to fix his hair.
“You know I haven’t.” Seokjin grabs him around the waist and pulls him back, ravishing his neck with kisses both teasing and chaste. “Only about half of them.”
At that Jungkook throws his head back with a loud laugh, and the sound alone makes Seokjin feel ten times lighter, liable to float away on a cloud of euphoria and post-orgasm bliss were he not anchored to Jungkook.
“Well, as long as I’m the best,” Jungkook smudges more gloss on the pout of his bottom lip. He eyes Seokjin’s reflection in his heavy hand mirror, a gift from the man himself. “And your favorite too, right?”
“Without a single doubt,” Seokjin says firmly, meaning every syllable. He presses another kiss to Jungkook’s jaw for good measure, feels more than hears Jungkook sigh and relax into his arms, and allows himself a moment more in this bubble of paradise.
~~
He hadn’t meant to develop feelings, obviously.
It’s been weeks of seeing Jungkook, of ducking out from work late in the evenings to bring him a gift or a treat, of making up all manner of excuses to leave his house—not that his wife cares, or notices. When a marriage of convenience is no longer convenient, you can do nothing except wait for it to collapse under the burden of its falsehood, and breathe a sigh of relief as soon as you’re separated.
She finds repose in long visits to her sibling, and he finds solace in Jungkook’s companionship.
Which, as Seokjin learns tonight, has become one of his more self-destructive vices.
The usual wharf is absent of Jungkook’s presence, and Seokjin hangs around with his nose tucked in his wool scarf and hands shoved deep in his pockets, fingers aching with the cold. It’s minutes that drag by before Jungkook is prancing over from the main street, tucking away a fold of bills in his coat and casually wiping sheer lipstick stains from the apple of his cheek.
Something ugly turns in Seokjin’s stomach, a spike of jealousy that’s not his to feel—Jungkook isn’t his to have, after all.
“Hyung,” Jungkook greets him brightly, bouncing on his toes to give him a kiss.
Without thinking Seokjin turns his head down just a fraction, and the kiss lands above his jaw instead. If Jungkook notices that something is off, he doesn’t mention it. Instead he stuffs a hand in one of Seokjin’s pockets to intertwine their fingers, leading them away from the water to the expensive room Seokjin keeps near permanently booked. It’s rented out in his name often enough that Jungkook feels comfortable leaving sets of spare clothes, soaps and shampoos, occasionally gifts he’s forgotten to take with him. Seokjin likes to think of it as a temporary haven that the both of them share, their own private little home together, though he knows he shouldn’t.
The walk there is short and Jungkook fills it with idle chatter, the new robe he’d ordered, questions about Seokjin’s work from the last time they’d spoken, and his latest curiosity: the stray cats that cozy up to him for belly rubs and scraps of food.
“They’ll keep coming to you if you feed them,” Seokjin murmurs absently, thoughts elsewhere. The lipstick marks are seared into his brain, bright and revolting in what they represent—that Jungkook is seeing other people.
Which is, still, entirely unfair for Seokjin to be upset over.
Jungkook is not his to have.
“They’re my babies,” Jungkook says cheerfully, if not a little defensive. “If I don’t take care of them, who else will?”
“Just make sure you have enough to eat too, is all,” Seokjin says gently. Reconciling the reality of Jungkook’s job and his respect for it with the other reality of wanting Jungkook entirely to himself is no easy task. “Shall I buy you beds and toys for the cats? You can adopt them all into your home, and I’ll have fresh meals prepared everyday.”
“No need for all that,” Jungkook laughs lightly, pleased with Seokjin’s proposal. “They like it outdoors, and we make do.”
Seokjin hums, but makes note to slip Jungkook a few extra bills to begin a separate fund for feeding the cats.
“You should meet them one day, hyung,” Jungkook carries on, breath puffing in the frigid air. “There’s a tabby with a great big feather duster of a tail; she’s a sweetheart, you’d love her. And another one, spotted just like a cow!! He sits so stiff and formal but as soon as you’ve got a piece of chicken, well…”
~
Tonight Seokjin wants to give.
It isn’t unusual by now, so far into their companionship—friendship?—that this exchange of pleasure is commonplace and comfortable.
What is different is how he touches Jungkook, reverent and possessive and guilty all at once and in that order. He lays Jungkook out on the silky smooth bed and runs broad palms down his body, from his chest to his thighs to his pretty ankles, following the path with his lips, then his tongue, then his teeth.
Seokjin has never seen a lasting mark on Jungkook nor made one himself, but Jungkook lets him do it now, lets him suck purple bruises into his neck and leave bright red bites dipping inside his thighs. He squirms and moans into each nip and kiss, whines long and low when Seokjin bites the sensitive skin at his throat and rolls it gently between his teeth, painting colors across the canvas of Jungkook’s body with unrestrained greed now that he’s been given the privilege to do so.
“Hyung,” Jungkook groans, hands following Seokjin wherever he goes, always trying to pull him in for a proper kiss. “Hyung, please.”
“Hm?” Seokjin hums into Jungkook’s taut stomach, feeling the muscles tighten and twitch beneath his wet mouth. He sucks another love bite, just because he can, and because Jungkook makes the most delightful noises when he does.
Seokjin loves that about him, his confidence in how much he enjoys the carnal side of intimacy, how brazen and how unapologetic he is in that enjoyment.
“Seokjin, come here,” Jungkook says hoarsely, fingers wiggling.
Finally Seokjin caves, crawling up languidly and laying his clothed body flush atop Jungkook’s, relishing the warmth that bleeds through his pressed shirt. Jungkook’s hard cock presses into his own, and Seokjin swears he can feel it throb as much as he feels wetness leaking and messing the front of his pants.
“Did you need something?”
“Don’t be mean,” Jungkook pouts. “Thought I was your favorite.”
“‘Course you are.” Seokjin leans in and ghosts his lips over Jungkook’s to be a tease, then moves to Jungkook’s cheek where he leaves so many resolute kisses he swears his intent must be obvious, that Jungkook has to know now how much he wants to cleanse away the touch of other people and replace it with his own. “My pretty baby. My favorite.”
“Then,” Jungkook grabs his face with a surprising strength, considering how much his body trembles still, “why won’t you give me what I want?”
“Spoiled,” Seokjin chides, grinds his hips down. “You’re growing spoiled, darling.”
“And what of it?”
“Is no one kissing you good enough? Hyung has to do everything?”
Jungkook shrugs flippantly and tugs at Seokjin’s collar, “No one else kisses me.”
That gives Seokjin pause. “Such a pretty mouth on you, you’re telling me not a single soul wants to give it a kiss?”
And now Jungkook pauses too. “…I don’t let anyone else kiss me,” he corrects himself, and before Seokjin can begin to process what those words mean for him, Jungkook is yanking earnestly at his shirt again. “So can you, please?”
There’s really no denying him now, if there even was before, so Seokjin captures his lips and kisses him hard, licking into his mouth and inhaling every sigh and every desperate whimper. He shoves a leg between Jungkook’s and lets him hump against his thigh with fervent abandon. It doesn’t take long, his movements jerky from being strung out and teased for the better half of an hour, pretty moans reaching a whiny pitch until he comes, sticky and soaking through to Seokjin’s skin.
“Spoiled,” he repeats, a whisper, tenderly pushing back Jungkook’s sweaty hair. “And I wouldn’t have you any other way.”
Through his harsh breaths Jungkook smiles at the ceiling and has the gall to giggle. It’s cuter than it should be, with his dick softening on his stomach and cum drying between them.
“I’ve ruined your pants,” he says. “‘M sorry. You can grab a pair of mine, if you’d like.”
“Mm I don’t know, I rather like having this reminder of you,” Seokjin muses, thumbing away beads of sweat at Jungkook's clavicle. “I’ll walk through the streets and everyone will know that I made you come without ever taking off my clothes, that you came on my covered cock like some needy, sensitive little thing.”
“Must you speak like that,” Jungkook groans against the thought, too sensitive to act on the embers that it stokes in his belly. “It’s embarrassing, getting you dirty like that. Makes me feel like I can’t control myself.”
“It’s my mess as well as yours,” Seokjin admits quietly. The tips of his ears are red, and Jungkook’s eyes go wide before he settles back down and gathers Seokjin up into his embrace.
“That’s so romantic,” he sighs wistfully. Seokjin has a sneaking suspicion that he’s only half joking, and he’s unable to hold back his own amused snort.
“Oh of course, our seed, the result of our union, forever mixed as one in the very fabric of my trousers,” Seokjin narrates as if he’s reading a tale of a grand love. “Each thread coated in the sordid evidence of our affair, timeless and eternal, and uncomfortably stiff once dry.”
Jungkook erupts into loud cackling laughter, pulling Seokjin in just to push him away again. “You—you are positively unbelievable, what a horrible story. I’ve changed my mind, it’s no longer romantic. It’s filthy and I do insist that you find something else to wear before laying in my bed.”
He does, swearing up and down that he’s only changing because the cum crusted to his cock is beginning to itch something awful, but the way he meticulously scrubs himself clean and chooses something fresh from Jungkook’s laundry pile is more courtesy than needed.
Then it takes another minute of rustling and wriggling until they’re both cleaned and comfortable, Jungkook tucked into Seokjin’s side with a heavy arm across his waist. The silence is soothing, Jungkook is warm and solid next to him, and for the first time all night Seokjin feels honest contentment.
“You’re very good at this,” Jungkook murmurs sleepily.
“Bringing you to orgasm?”
“That too,” Jungkook sounds amused as he snuggles ever closer. He props his chin on Seokjin’s shoulder and Seokjin, even with his eyes closed, knows that Jungkook is staring curiously at him. In his mind he can picture Jungkook’s dark eyes with their eternal sparkle, the glow on his skin that’s still tacky with sweat, the freckle under his lip and the tip of his nose and the faint scar etched in his cheek, his hair unruly and framing his face in waves—he looks a dream, Seokjin knows it. The Jungkook that he sees in his sleep is the same Jungkook that he sees in real life, and he can hardly fathom sometimes that someone so enchanting exists.
“What is—”
“Will you be staying the night?”
Seokjin cracks open an eye. Never before has he spent the night, despite knowing that it’s an option. The room is paid through until the next afternoon, and Jungkook always takes advantage of it. Seokjin has always found it easier and less complicated for himself to return home after their business, but the way Jungkook is fidgeting slightly, too casual in his probing…
He presses his lips to Jungkook’s forehead, breathing in the soft musk of his cologne. “I will,” he agrees easily. “And I’ll take care to not wake you when I leave for work.”
That seems more than enough to satisfy Jungkook who doesn’t even bother to hide his smile as he burrows into Seokjin’s body like a rabbit seeking warmth. He slips into slumber quickly, breath going rhythmic and even. Seokjin forces himself to remain awake a while longer, to savor this moment and this night, the weight of Jungkook beside him and every point of contact completely devoid of any meaning beyond the innocence of sleep.
The lipstick stains are all but forgotten.
~~
Long weeks continue to pass, days plodding by tiredly and growing shorter, one by one. The air turns bitter with cold as frost prepares to set in, and still Seokjin comes to see Jungkook without fail. The courtesans along the dock crowd closer to the main street for the light and the warmth, but Seokjin continues to seek out Jungkook by the wharf—an ode to their first meeting, before whisking him away to what he still affectionately considers their home.
His wife’s absences become as frequent as his dates with Jungkook, and Seokjin has a pleasing, sneaking suspicion that Jungkook isn’t seeing anyone other than him.
Some nights he requests that they simply hold each other and talk; Jungkook is always more than happy to comply, curling up against Seokjin and lacing together their fingers with a smile.
Some nights they lie together in silence long after they’re both spent, and Seokjin will press lazy kisses to Jungkook’s sweaty hairline.
Most nights Seokjin lingers long enough to see Jungkook fall asleep.
Every night he wants to crawl into bed beside Jungkook, and fall asleep with him.
Long weeks pass, and Seokjin only finds his feelings for Jungkook growing ever stronger.
~~
One day Seokjin shows up, their usual time and their usual place, nothing out of the ordinary save for the explicitly naughty things racing through his mind, brand new fantasies taking root and surging strong, plaguing his thoughts with a searing insistence.
It began as a fleeting curiosity. Slick hands and warm mouths and even the pleasurable friction of frenzied frottage have sufficed thus far, but…is it possible that Jungkook might have an interest in getting fucked? A blowjob isn’t all that much compared to penetrative sex, so…
Is that something he would want to do with Seokjin?
Because it’s what Seokjin has been dreaming about for days, about sinking his cock into Jungkook—not his mouth this time but his ass; he knows how cute and round Jungkook’s ass is, just last week he’d grabbed it in the midst of heavy kisses and Jungkook had sucked particularly filthily at his tongue. If he’d placed his fingers just a little lower, squeezed in just a bit more…
He hasn’t been able to get the thought out of his mind.
Slippery fingers stretching Jungkook open, not only to prepare him for Seokjin’s cock but for the fun of it too, of getting to be the one who makes him gasp and shudder apart. Grasping Jungkook’s delicate hips for leverage, fucking into him nice and slow and wet. He imagines how much better and and how much tighter it’ll feel, how good he can make Jungkook feel, stoking the fire between them to new heights of pleasure—but more than anything he craves the kind of sounds that Jungkook will make, the whines and the whimpers that he can’t ever hold back, how excited he’s bound to be, the shine of tears in his eyes and the exhilaration as he bounces back on Seokjin’s cock, just as eager if not twice more.
And how he’d touch Seokjin too, hands grappling to explore every inch of skin, all over Seokjin’s shoulders, roaming his chest and his stomach and gripping his thighs, closing his work worn hands around Seokjin’s throat just because he can, because he has that power because Seokjin gave it to him.
So, yes, safe to say it’s a vision that Seokjin has dwelled on very thoroughly, and that he’s come today with the nervous intention to pose a possibility.
Jungkook appears in the corner of his eye, rounding the corner with a brown sleeve of paper that he passes in pats between his hands. “Hyung!”
“Good evening, Jungkookie.”
“Here, I brought you one too,” he greets Seokjin with a kiss on the mouth and pushes the paper into his hands. Heat seeps through his mittens and the rich smell of chocolate and sugar wafts up, tendrils of comfort in the winter night. “It’s, um. It’s a chocolate chip cookie. You mentioned the other day that you enjoyed them. And I was craving one myself today, and I thought, well, might as well buy one for you, too, right?”
“You had yours on the way here, I can taste it,” Seokjin raises a teasing brow and smiles. Suddenly self conscious about any mess he may have left, Jungkook ducks his head and swipes shyly at the corner of his mouth, but Seokjin just laughs and pecks him again. “Thank you, sweetheart. I’m happy you were thinking of me.”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Jungkook grouses, but there’s no hiding his pleased tone. “Shall we go?”
Seokjin hums, offers Jungkook his elbow like the gentleman he is. “Somewhere different tonight, I think. Is that okay?”
Jungkook cocks his head.
“It’s..a fair bit fancier,” Seokjin offers, leading Jungkook to his carriage. “And far enough that walking would be a hindrance, in this weather.”
“Fancier, hm?” Jungkook grins, playful and sly, leaning into Seokjin as they walk. “Kim Seokjin, are you trying to woo me?”
And what if I am? He wants to say. What if I want to dote on you, spoil you with everything that makes you smile, do anything that would make you happy? What if I want to make you mine?
Instead he just hums, giving nothing away and completely missing the way Jungkook’s smile dims. They approach the carriage in silence; Seokjin assists Jungkook up the small step before pulling himself in. With a single sharp knock to the panel behind him, they’re off.
The ride is a tad bumpy, rolling over wide cobblestones that have grown uneven with time and wear. Jungkook stares idly out the window, peering past the little lace curtain at the line of glowing street lights, at passersby ducking into quaint little shops to take shelter from the incoming snow. He’s gorgeous, he always is, equal parts soft and sharp, the curve of his cheek and the straight line of his jaw, the tip of his adorable nose that Seokjin yearns to kiss sweetly even while thoughts of fucking Jungkook still simmer in his mind.
“I promise it isn’t far,” Seokjin murmurs. He reaches across the small space to grasp Jungkook’s gloved hand, pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “How was your day, darling? Are the cats faring alright in this weather?”
“Oh,” Jungkook sighs, fingers tightening their grip on Seokjin’s hand. He looks troubled at the mention of them. “Well…the tabby just delivered a litter of kittens, and I’m worried about them all staying out in the cold. Especially with the snowfall lately. There are six of them and so tiny, hyung, two could fit in the palm of your hand. Hardly a week and a half old. I visit them as often as I can, but..”
“I’ll take them in,” Seokjin says without thinking. Though when he does pause to consider it, he finds that his conviction remains. “They can live with me, I have more than enough room and they won’t want for food or warmth.”
“I can’t ask that of you,” Jungkook murmurs, but already relief is visible in his eyes. “Seokjin..”
“They’re stray cats, Jungkook,” Seokjin says with a small smile. “You aren’t asking anything of me, I’d truly like to give them a home.”
“Then if you’re sure, that would be lov—oh..oh but hyung, your..” Jungkook fidgets delicately in his seat. “Um, your wife. Is..”
“Hardly ever home,” Seokjin dismisses. It isn’t a lie. She set off to visit her brother last week, the second time this month, and just penned a letter yesterday notifying Seokjin of her extended stay. He’s toyed with the idea of inviting Jungkook back to his house, but the timing never quite feels right. “I’ll come to see you tomorrow evening, like usual, and you can show me to the kittens?”
“I’d like that,” Jungkook smiles.
Their hands stay linked for the remainder of the ride.
~
The third floor lodging that Seokjin reserved for tonight is plenty lavish: plush carpets in a rich purple that absorb the sound of their steps, thick braided ropes holding back the heavy curtains and exposing a peaceful view of the nighttime sky. A large bed in the center of the room, sheltered beneath a high canopy draped in swathes of amethyst chiffon. Down stuffed pillows with hand stitched embroidery, hand woven lace trims on the soft bed sheets, little handmade soaps carved in the shape of roses on the ornate bedside tables. Gold furnishings, gold swirled into the marble countertops in the attached bathroom, gold accents on the deep purple striped wallpaper.
Seokjin leads Jungkook into the spacious room, taking a seat in a cozy reading chair, far away from the door. He allows Jungkook as many moments of wonder as he wants to take in the extravagance.
“Seokjin this is extraordinary,” Jungkook breathes, eyes wide and sparkling. “Surely there must be a special occasion? Is there something that I’m missing?”
“Nothing,” Seokjin murmurs, and it’s only half a lie. Even if they don’t have sex, he likes to make sure Jungkook knows that he’s worth all of this, more than worth it. “Can’t I just spoil you for the sake of it?”
“I certainly won’t object,” Jungkook laughs, fingering the sleek wooden panels on the walls. He smooths the velvet hem of his cloak before removing it entirely and leaving it to hang on the pegs by the door. “Though I think I should thank you properly for pampering me like this, hm?”
With a suggestive smile, Jungkook bounces over to Seokjin and pulls him up, leads him to the bed and gently urges him to sit before settling daintily on his knees between Seokjin’s legs, seated atop his crossed feet. Pretty hands work to undo his pants, slow but with intent, and Seokjin watches him, so beautiful and pink cheeked and not his, and he sucks in a bracing breath.
“Jungkook,” he says softly.
“Mm?”
Seokjin places a hand on Jungkook’s, gingerly pausing his ministrations so that he can think straight for a moment. “Jungkook, I’ve been thinking…”
It sounds almost foreboding and Jungkook physically can’t help the slump in his posture, the way he wilts like all the air has slowly been pressed from his lungs. This is it, he thinks. Seokjin’s wife has found out, or his guilty conscience has caught up, maybe he’s no longer able to spare such a large portion of his income—he’s always quietly slipping Jungkook so much extra—but—but Jungkook would want to see him anyway, they could find a way to make it work somehow, the money doesn’t matter anymore.
Seokjin ending their arrangement stings more than he expected.
Jungkook sits back demurely, eyes down to hide how upset he is. He has no right, he knows.
Meanwhile Seokjin clears his throat, flushes pink and yanks at the silken tie around his throat. “I—I don’t know if you would even want this,” he stutters, tripping through his words, “I’ve been considering it myself for a time, now.” He takes another deep breath, “But I’d—I’d like to..to fully consummate our meeting, so to speak.”
There. He’s said it, in so many words.
Cool relief floods his limbs in a dizzying wash as he sees the exact second that the sparkle comes back into Jungkook’s eyes, his toothy smile and scrunchy nose as he stares up at Seokjin with renewed tenderness. “Oh, Seokjin, of course. I’d like that too.”
And it’s just that simple.
Anticipation for what’s to come begins to build, but the part of Seokjin that’s falling fast needs to be absolutely certain. “Are you sure?” He strokes over Jungkook’s fingers in his lap. “You can say no. I don’t want you to indulge me, I want you to want it. We can—we can do what we normally do and nothing more, or I can walk out that door and never come to see you again—the room is paid for the night, as always—”
“No, stop. Shut up. I want this. I want you,” Jungkook says meaningfully, just barely raising up on his knees to emphasize his desire.
“You’re sure,” Seokjin whispers, a statement more than a question, gazing down at him as if Jungkook has just bestowed upon him the most marvelous gift.
“I’ve dreamt of it,” Jungkook whispers back, honest and bare. His eyes are huge and dark, waiting. “Tell me what you want, hyung.”
“I want to fuck you,” Seokjin divulges roughly, growing warm under the intensity of Jungkook’s gaze. He toys with the round pearl button at Jungkook’s collar, the tasteful trim of lace. “I want to have you in every way you’ll allow it.”
“Then,” Jungkook leans ever closer, bumping his nose against Seokjin’s jaw, “go on and take me.”
When their lips meet again it’s softer and sweeter than Jungkook ever thought it could be, a gentle, almost tentative press and slide of their mouths, slow and explorative. It’s passion unseized by the impatience of desperation, but Jungkook supposes that too will come later. Hands on his waist guide him up and onto the elegant spread of the bed to be laid out for Seokjin’s taking. Ensconced by shrouds of gauzy purple and low light, all sounds save for their shared breaths muffled by the decor, Jungkook feels like he’s in the most sumptuous heaven, the puffy duvet a cradling cloud beneath him and above him Seokjin, radiant perfection, his moon.
“I’ve never—I haven’t,” Jungkook gasps as Seokjin lays a trail of hot kisses down the column of his throat, and he pauses to arch his head back and provide Seokjin with more skin to mark. Already he feels himself growing hard, the familiar suction of Seokjin’s mouth stoking a fire in his belly. “Seokjin I haven’t ever been with a man, like this,” he says, eyes fluttering shut.
“Nor have I,” Seokjin admits in a rasp, working his way back to Jungkook’s mouth. “I’m honored to have you be my first.”
“Oh.” Jungkook blinks at the ceiling beyond the canopy as Seokjin presses sweet kisses to the corner of his lips. Something warm and pleased blooms in Jungkook’s belly, spreads in a rush up into his heart and his brain and fills it with the fuzzy delight of being the one to share something so intimate with Seokjin. He feels special. “Then..as am I.”
“Honored to be my first?” Seokjin quirks a smile.
“Yes,” Jungkook answers immediately, like it’s the most obvious thing. “And honored to have you be mine.”
Seokjin’s smile grows considerably softer, and after that there’s much less conversation between them. They roll off the bed to strip down to nothing, fingers quick and fumbling to undo buttons and buckles, untucking shirts and shrugging off sleeves, eagerly kicking away pants.
“These fucking winter clothes,” Seokjin curses, peeling back layer after endless layer, and Jungkook laughs fondly at him.
In mere moments they rejoin, Seokjin demurely rubbing at his arms whereas Jungkook is confident and comfortable in his bare skin. And, for all the times that they’ve seen each other in various states of undress, this evening’s full nudity feels entirely new, momentous in the vulnerability that hangs in the air with words unspoken.
Neither of them wanting to make the first move, they simply sit and drink in the sight of each other, sturdy chests and cinched waists, Jungkook’s slight frame packed with muscle and Seokjin’s broad shoulders and lean stomach, arousal nestled in their laps.
“Hi,” Jungkook breaks the silence shyly, tucking his hair back.
“Hi yourself, pet,” Seokjin bites into his lip to hide his smile, taking in all the smooth expanses of Jungkook’s unblemished skin, the casual ripple of muscle when he shifts. Every freckle and scar, the lightest dusting of hair down his arms and the strong lines that make up his thighs as he sits. He’s so unimaginably beautiful that Seokjin feels a physical ache beneath his ribs, to be faced with the stunning visage of someone so precious to him.
Jungkook preens under the attention, adores the heat of Seokjin’s appreciative gaze. “Do you…how do you want me?”
Seokjin cocks his head, then reaches for the ornate vial kept filled in the bedside table. “What would be most comfortable while I fuck you with my fingers?”
Jungkook’s breath catches, his expression suddenly equal parts excited and hungry. He flops onto his back with little grace, shimmying up the bed to rest his head on the plush pillows. “Like this,” he grins, planting his feet on the mattress and letting his knees fall open a fraction, legs parting to give Seokjin an enticing view of what’s between them.
“Fuck,” Seokjin curses, fumbling with the vial as his ears and chest blush red. “You are so—”
“I’m what?” Jungkook asks innocently, voice sweet as anything. His eyes go big and wide like he doesn’t know what he’s done wrong, knees drawing together as if to preserve his modesty. “Hyung?”
“My own little vixen, that’s what you are,” Seokjin sighs dazedly and clears his throat, and Jungkook laughs again. He feels light, and happy, safe in Seokjin’s hands.
With his own sigh Jungkook settles back as Seokjin crawls over him, caging Jungkook’s body and making him feel ever so small. Slick fingers slide slowly between his cheeks, rubbing at him over and over until he’s slippery all between his thighs and his breath goes ragged.
“Have you ever done this before?” Seokjin asks casually, carefully probing past muscle with a single finger.
“Not often,” Jungkook smiles, eyes closed to savor the feeling. The stretch is gentle and deliciously slow, dragging in and out of him. “Feels nicer when you do it, though.”
“Is that so,” Seokjin murmurs roughly, gradually working in two and then three fingers with filthy sounds, twisting and thrusting and carefully watching Jungkook’s face to see what he likes best. The way Jungkook moans and sucks him in is nothing short of entrancing, and Seokjin can’t help imagining what it’ll feel like soon for his cock. The thought has him leaking onto the sheets below, so hard that it hurts. To distract himself he leans over to latch onto Jungkook’s nipple, scraping his teeth across the flesh before pursing his lips and suckling hard.
“I’ve no milk to give you,” Jungkook teases even though his voice cracks. Seokjin presses his tongue flat over the little brown nub in reprimand just as he curls his fingers, and Jungkook shudders beautifully, the mischief all but melting from his body. “Please, hyung, I want it, I’m ready.”
“You think you can take my cock?” Jungkook nods vigorously, but Seokjin continues to lazily stretch him open, spreading his fingers open as far as he can just to feel Jungkook’s legs tremble. “I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” Jungkook argues, pushing himself onto his elbows to frown at Seokjin knelt between his legs. “Come on, I’ve wanted this for so long. Don’t make me wait anymore.”
“You really are growing spoiled,” Seokjin says, but the exasperation in his tone is ruined by the strain of his desire.
“And whose fault is that,” Jungkook counters, easily moving onto all fours when Seokjin prompts him. “You shouldn’t spoil me if you don’t—ah—”
“Such a brat,” Seokjin grouses, licking over the fresh teeth marks he’d left on Jungkook’s right ass cheek. The indents are deep enough to have color blossoming, and Seokjin hopes that it will bruise. “Have I ever led you to believe that I dislike it?”
“Well for all that you complain—”
“You’re awfully mouthy for someone wanting to get fucked tonight, aren’t you?”
“You’re awfully unhurried for someone who says they want to fuck me,” Jungkook nearly whines, pressing his chest to the bed and pushing his ass out further. Shiny wetness drips down his balls and the insides of his thighs, catching the light as if to tempt Seokjin closer. He sways his hips gently, partially to relieve the stretch of his position and partially out of growing impatience.
“Because your body is a feast, a gorgeous, maddeningly delectable feast, and I want to savor each and every bite,” Seokjin says quietly, palms flush against Jungkook’s ribs and smoothing down his sides in an attempt to settle him. “I don’t want this to be over quickly, I want to make you feel good.”
“Hyung I always feel good when I’m with you,” Jungkook admits in a small voice. He turns his head back a fraction, but keeps his eyes trained on the sheets instead of straining to face Seokjin. “Everything you do is good. So, please..”
“Alright sweetheart, alright,” Seokjin soothes shakily, slicking up his cock in his fist with a generous amount of oil. It runs through his fingers and drips onto his thighs, onto the sheets where he wipes the excess. He grasps Jungkook’s hips and raises him slightly, scooting forward on his knees until his cock rubs against Jungkook’s legs. “Hyung’s got you, I’m going—I’m going to push in now, okay?”
“Please,” Jungkook begs again. Seokjin’s cock is fat and thick with arousal, heavy in Jungkook’s hand as he reaches down between his legs to guide it to his hole, groaning at the soft velvety head bumping over his balls, then whining when it catches at his rim. “ Ah—”
“You are perfection,” Seokjin breathes, completely fixated on his cock slowly disappearing inside Jungkook, searing, an impossibly tight fit as he works himself in. “So good for me, darling. Are you alright?”
In lieu of an answer Jungkook whimpers and nods, head hanging between his hunched shoulders, the silken sheets clenched tight in his fists. He pants open mouthed and broken until he feels Seokjin’s hips meet his ass, kicking his feet in little thumps against the bed at the new burning pressure inside him, at something so big splitting him open.
Just the knowledge that it’s Seokjin spreading him wide is enough to have Jungkook drooling into his arm.
“You’re okay?” Seokjin’s voice is ragged and tight, hands trembling. He drapes his body over Jungkook’s to kiss along his shoulder, sweet little stamps of his lips against Jungkook’s sweaty skin. “Is it too much? Does it hurt?”
Not in any way that Jungkook dislikes, and he gasps out, “No, no you feel so fucking good, god, hyung—but I—can we—”
“Mhm?”
“I want to see you when you fuck me,” Jungkook sniffs, and Seokjin’s heart skips a tremendously unsteady beat.
“Anything you want,” Seokjin murmurs and carefully pulls back, gritting his teeth at the way Jungkook’s soft insides grip him tight.
When he’s settled comfortably on his back once more and Seokjin pushes in again, the drag is deliciously smooth and slick, and they both moan high and tight. The wet noise of Seokjin’s balls slapping into his skin is obscene; Seokjin blushes but Jungkook seems to thrive on it, rolling his hips to take Seokjin’s cock deeper and prompt him to move.
“Yeah, I’ve got you sweetheart.” Seokjin wraps Jungkook’s long legs loose around his waist and leans in to kiss his cheek before he begins thrusting, slow and steady and so perfectly paced that Jungkook’s head spins.
This too is softer and sweeter than Jungkook could ever have imagined it to be, the concern and the consideration with which Seokjin handles him. Of course he knows Seokjin to be respectful, and a gentleman, but he’s still only a prostitute from the harbor at the end of the day, and giving himself fully to Seokjin like this…Jungkook just never thought that someone could, or would, treat him so gentle. Seokjin touches him like he’s cherishing not just his body, but Jungkook as a person.
It brings tears to his eyes as much as the pleasurable heat low in his gut does, welling up at his lash line and dripping down his ruddy cheeks for Seokjin to kiss away.
“You sure you’re okay?” Seokjin asks nervously, hips slowing to a shallow grind. He pets warm hands down Jungkook’s thick thighs and cards soothing fingers through his damp hair. “We can stop—”
“Don’t you dare,” Jungkook cuts in sharply, breathless, and pushes himself half up to glare cutely, so very threatening with his petal pout and his tear stained cheeks.
“You’re crying, little dove,” Seokjin murmurs, swiping tender thumbs under Jungkook’s eyes.
“No, it’s just—I,” he sniffles and tries to catch his breath, “Feels real nice, I can feel you here, ‘s all.” He caresses his abdomen where he swears he can feel the faintest bulge of Seokjin and chokes out a laugh, the sound a little delirious. “Hyung you’re so big inside me.”
“If you say things like that I’m afraid I won’t last.” Seokjin shuts his eyes against the sight of Jungkook happily split on his cock and exhales slowly, muscles tense. He fists his hands in the fabric on either side of Jungkook’s head and counts to three. “I’ll come far too soon.”
Jungkook grins, depraved and sinful and challenging, looping his arms around Seokjin’s neck to drag him down for a startlingly chaste kiss. “You better fuck me like you mean it, then, before you do.”
“Menace,” Seokjin hisses under his breath, rutting his hips forward in quick, punishing thrusts. The wet heat of Jungkook wrapped vicelike around him is maddening and addictive, so different from the soft ring of his lips. Seokjin feels fit to burst already, but he’s trying hard to be good for Jungkook, to make it more than good for him, to have Jungkook shaking apart on his cock before he allows himself the privilege of pumping Jungkook full of his seed.
It’s so enticingly overwhelming, fucking earnestly into Jungkook’s pliant body and teetering on the edge of that rushing abyss. Jungkook is hot and slick and sweaty all over, his naked body writhing beneath Seokjin like he’s trying to pull away as much as he’s arching into being fucked. Rich moans spill from his parted lips, each sound a decadent indulgence, lust incarnate with the single purpose of encouraging Seokjin to drive into him harder.
“So fucking big, hyung you’re so good, feels so—” Jungkook rambles, breath stuttering when Seokjin starts to fuck him slow and deep, deliberate strokes of his cock that have Jungkook’s entire body quivering with pricks of heat. He claws at the broad expanse of Seokjin’s back and throws his head back with a sob, unable to keep still. “Please please please—”
Seokjin can’t maintain enough presence of mind to form a response, solely focused on shoving his cock into Jungkook’s open, welcoming warmth over and over and over, hands firm on his slim waist for leverage. Seeing Jungkook’s face, watching every minute change in his expression as he revels in the bliss of being stuffed so full, every twist and tweak of his nipples that have him flinching and whimpering, every pass of Seokjin’s thumb down his jaw and every sloppy kiss—it’s a lot. And it’s Seokjin’s favorite thing.
Jungkook is expressive, loud and unabashed and unafraid to demand more, quietly determined to come untouched, and Seokjin loves it, remembers all over again in a split second why he found himself coming back over and over again, coming over and over again down Jungkook’s throat like he couldn’t get enough of it, enough of him.
“I think I’m falling in love with you,” Seokjin gasps out without warning, the words tumbling from his mouth before he can even think to stop them. Beneath him Jungkook’s eyes go wide and his body seizes up, and Seokjin only realizes that he’s orgasming hard because Jungkook is suddenly squeezing him so tight his vision blanks. “Fuck, Jungkook—”
“Inside, come inside me hyung,” Jungkook pleads, dazed and face flushed as his spent cock continues to leak. He draws his legs tight around Seokjin and urges him deeper, hands grappling for Seokjin’s shoulders to yank him down chest to chest and press weak kisses to his cheek and neck. “Please, wanna feel it so bad.”
And Seokjin is completely helpless to follow, clumsily chasing that mind numbing release until he’s spilling into Jungkook with a low groan, cool heat rushing through his limbs in waves of pleasure. He’s distantly aware of Jungkook shuddering and squirming with quiet cooing praise for him, hips working in tiny circles to milk him dry.
“Fuck,” he mumbles roughly, wincing at how raw he feels when he pulls out. Jungkook lays limp on the bed, eyes still closed as his chest heaves. He’s angelic with his hair splayed in damp waves on the pillow, arms bracketing his head in a pretty picture of open vulnerability, blurry bruises decorating his throat, muscles still twitching and cock resting soft and pink on his hip.
Seokjin looks down at the mess on Jungkook’s stomach and pauses to drag his own fingers through it before venturing lower, observing the slight gape of Jungkook’s pink puffy hole and feeling faint knowing that he did that. Thick cum leaks from him in pulses, slowly sliding over the plump curve of his bottom.
Seokjin feels the sudden visceral urge to lick it up and fuck it back into Jungkook, so he does just that.
“Ah!” Jungkook jolts at the hot feeling of Seokjin’s tongue on his sensitive skin, lets out a little surprised laugh that quickly melts into a whine. He pushes halfheartedly at Seokjin’s head, thighs quaking as Seokjin laps at him like a dog. “Hyung, I don't think I can go again..”
Seokjin hums, “No?” Truthfully, his own body feels fit to collapse, running on residual adrenaline but still too drained to tease any further. He presses one last heated kiss to the soft crease of Jungkook’s thigh before gently easing his legs down, and crawling up to peck his nose. “Perhaps another time, then.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” Jungkook smiles lazily, slowly blinking his eyes open. He watches quietly as Seokjin stands on shaky legs to fetch a towel from their washroom. The sound of water running trickles into the main room and Jungkook sighs gratefully, giving his torso a tentative stretch and delighting in the lingering soreness of being so thoroughly fucked.
“Nothing hurts?” Seokjin comes back to clean the sweat and cum from Jungkook’s lax body, and Jungkook graces him with a charming smile.
“Not in a bad way,” he says, shaking his head a little. The bed dips beside him, and Jungkook peers up coyly through his lashes. “Was I good?”
“Always the best, darling.” Seokjin smiles down at him lovingly, a vision of mussed hair and rounded cheeks and ever tempting nudity. He boops the very tip of Jungkook’s nose for the giggle it gets him. “Not a soul could be as good and perfect as you always are.”
“You’re too sweet to me, hyung,” Jungkook says wistfully, but there’s no hiding how positively chuffed he is to be praised and complimented. “You were good too,” he adds decisively, rolling onto his stomach once it’s been wiped clean. His energy is bouncy and contagious, and Seokjin can’t help but laugh a little. “Amazing, actually—”
“Mm, you said as much,” Seokjin teases. He dances ticklish fingers down Jungkook’s spine “Several times, if memory serves.”
“I’ll keep on saying it because you were,” Jungkook sighs, pillowing his head on his arms and letting his eyes slide shut. “I’ve never felt so good in my life, I think we should do that all the time. Everyday, actually.”
Seokjin hums in indulgent interest, “Hmm, maybe we should.” He drags the thick towel across Jungkook’s shoulders and follows it with reverent kisses.
“..thank you for taking care of me,” Jungkook says sincerely, voice a little muddled and squished. “Had a nice time with you tonight hyung.”
“I’m glad to hear it, little one,” Seokjin says quietly. His lips graze across Jungkook’s knuckles in another delicate kiss, and then he resumes his gentle cleaning.
The damp cloth is nice and soothing against Jungkook’s skin, and he feels loose and sated all over. The room is hushed but not silent, the atmosphere agreeably fuzzy and warm. Seokjin’s touch is just as gentle as it always is, lulling Jungkook into a hazy state of mind where his only concerns are the fingers massaging his limbs and the softness of the mattress underneath him.
Being together in this way feels remarkably natural, an easy intimacy.
It makes Jungkook feel bold.
“I think I’m falling in love with you too,” he mumbles sleepily, with almost none of the cheekiness that Seokjin had expected, and all of the tenderness he’d only hoped for a crumb of. For all he means it Jungkook is hardly cognizant of the magnitude of what he’s confessed, exhaustion quickly pulling him under. Every purposeful press of Seokjin’s fingers sinks Jungkook further and further into his dreams, feeling so pleasantly satisfied he wants to lie here forever, cocooned in this moment. He’s vaguely aware of Seokjin’s voice settling close to him, but Jungkook has no will to open his eyes and quickly slips into a deep sleep.
~~
The sun doesn’t wake Jungkook as it ordinarily does.
No, instead he rouses midmorning to closed curtains, the room still smelling faintly of sex, and an aching body, refreshed and content and…all alone. It takes a moment for Jungkook to sit up and reorient himself, blankets pooling around his bare waist as he twists and frowns. The bed beside him appears rumpled and slept in, but the vast room is unmistakably empty and every trace of Seokjin has vanished, from yesterday’s clothes to his leather shoes to the warm woolen coat missing from the stand.
Jungkook inhales sharply. Seokjin isn’t here, but maybe he isn’t gone. He could’ve stepped out for a moment, to take a call or go for a morning stroll, or—if Jungkook dares to tread in the more romantic side of his imagination—maybe Seokjin had gone to fetch them both breakfast. It’s a nice thought, fills his stomach with a fluttery anticipation. Jungkook fluffs both pillows absentmindedly, ruffles the blankets and arranges himself to look alluring, soft but tempting.
He imagines Seokjin walking back through the door, smiling wide when he sees Jungkook rumpled and sleepy in the bed they’d shared. Maybe he’d bring a pastry with him, or coffee, or maybe just a good morning kiss. The last option sounds best in Jungkook’s opinion, and he smushes his face into the pillow to hide his utterly besotted grin.
Minutes tick by, dragging out even longer once Jungkook’s imagination has run out of fantasies to occupy his idle mind. He begins to grow impatient, but if it’s for Seokjin then he can wait.
More time passes and Jungkook twists and turns and fidgets; he can’t tell how much time has gone by, but surely enough that Seokjin would be back by now?
Jungkook worries his bottom lip between his teeth. This doesn’t feel like such a playful morning after, anymore.
He waits a while more, as long as he can stand it, until his limbs are restless and his stomach starts growling for food, and though part of him still hopes to see the crystal knob on the door turn, Jungkook begins to understand that Seokjin isn’t coming back.
Something horrid and heavy drops to Jungkook’s stomach, a sudden tightness gripping his heart and squeezing so ruthlessly that it feels hard to breathe. Seokjin had fucked him and then left him here all alone.
Perhaps it’s silly of Jungkook to have expected otherwise, he was just doing his job after all, but…last night had been nothing short of magical to Jungkook. The sex was fantastic but Seokjin was better, he was gentle and dreamy and perfect in all the ways Jungkook had imagined that he would be in bed. Everything had felt so romantic, each touch enamored and every kiss magnetic, the tender way Seokjin had held him close, the way he had carefully taken Jungkook apart then lovingly pieced him together. They’d shared something special, he thought. They’d shared quiet confessions. For Seokjin to leave afterwards, without even bidding Jungkook goodbye..
Maybe he regrets what he said.
Jungkook has heard the gossip and stories from other workers—clients who get so caught up in the passion of the moment, so overtaken by the pleasure of a wet hole that they say anything, promise anything. Jungkook stares down at the bed with an upset frown, worried that Seokjin might be the same.
Sure he’s a gentleman, and he buys Jungkook gifts, and..and he comes to see Jungkook and Jungkook only, consistently enough to be a regular…but that doesn’t make it love.
Jungkook begins to feel silly for saying it back.
What if he’s chased Seokjin away, now? Jungkook is meant to sell a flawless fantasy for the night, no strings attached and no feelings involved. It’s a terrible look for him to have shared something so vulnerable, but as silly as he feels for divulging it, Jungkook can’t bring himself to regret doing so. Even if it’s made him appear clingy, and needy. Even if it means Seokjin is going to avoid him now, though the thought is upsetting.
..
Well. Of course it’s natural to be upset, he’s losing a lot of money without Seokjin as his highest paying client. Then again, Jungkook knows deep down that it’s never really been about the money. Every excuse his brain attempts to conjure is met with the vexing reality that Jungkook meant what he said, that he’s well and truly falling in love with Seokjin.
He throws back the blankets with more aggression than necessary and slips out of bed, feet bare and cushioned in the impossibly soft fluff of the carpet. When he stands he catches a glimpse of his reflection in a hanging mirror, and can’t hold back his gasp at the array of marks covering his skin: purpling bruises up his neck, little pink bites across his chest, dark fingerprints at his hips. It’s a captivating memory of the night before and Jungkook indulges for another moment, appreciating the blooms of color on his body and the unbidden ghosts of the mouth and hands that made them.
“Ridiculous,” he huffs to himself as his cheeks blush. It isn’t worth getting worked up over. He stomps silently over to the embellished window and throws back the heavy curtains, taking in the view of the upscale neighborhood blanketed in pure, white, untouched snow. It’s crystalline and wondrous even under the gloom of the overcast sky, and Jungkook sighs.
Time to put on his persona, and return to work as usual. Whether Seokjin comes by ever again is inconsequential, and now Jungkook has learned a valuable lesson in maintaining a professional distance.
Not that it matters, anyway, because Jungkook hardly thinks he’ll meet anyone else who makes him feel all the things that Seokjin does. It’s no big deal. The sharp twinge in his chest says otherwise, but Jungkook stubbornly ignores it in favor of collecting his clothes from the velvet chaise. They’re folded and stacked neatly despite Jungkook having left them in a crumpled heap on the floor last night, which means Seokjin, knowing how much Jungkook dislikes mess and disorder, must’ve gathered them up before he left.
It’s a small act of kindness but it softens Jungkook’s heart just a bit. He quickly dresses and gathers his belongings, leaving the used room without a second glance and exiting the premises with his head held high.
He’ll be okay.