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Jin gasps when his back hits the floor, his laugh knocked out of him. He's spread out in his hotel room like a cheap rug, his arms stretched high above his head, hands held down and wrists pressed into the rough, tight weave of the carpet.
The culprit of his capture sits heavy on his waist, thighs tight around Jin's hips. Jin takes a deep breath, stomach hollowed beneath his ribs, and turns his head to look at Jungkook's arms, currently pinning him down. He exhales a shaky laugh and thinks, slightly hysterically, how did I get here?
A little more than an hour ago, Jin was sitting down for dinner. A large bowl of ramyeon, made to his liking with two eggs and plenty of grilled pork belly, delivered to his room from a place down the street. While he waited, he called room service and ordered a bottle of wine and a salad to go with. A respectable, filling dinner, and deserved after the day he and the band had spent at a fan signing. He'd just sat down when the first knock came.
It's light when it starts, a mere tap, but it turns insistent when Jin doesn't jump up to answer, becomes an annoying drum beat on his door. Eventually, when it gets to the point that the other guests might start complaining, Jin rises and answers.
"What," he says when he sees who it is. "I'm not filming," he continues, guessing at the reason for the visit, leaned against his door.
"I know," Jungkook says. "Jimin and Taehyung are. Can I come in?"
"Yeah, alright." Jin steps aside to make room for Jungkook and pauses before he shuts the door. It's not unusual for Jungkook to come see him, but usually there's a reason for it. Like a live stream, or a gathering of the older members that he feels left out of, or for a quick check-in that ends at the open door. Already, he can tell that tonight is the rare Jungkook visit, the kind that Jin likes best. The one where Jungkook is simply lonely, needy, and chooses Jin.
"I'm surprised you're not filming with them," he says, following Jungkook into the room. "Didn't feel like it, huh?"
"Nah," Jungkook says, hovering around Jin's food laden table, eyes on the spread. "Not tonight."
Jin narrows his eyes. "Have you eaten?" He slides past Jungkook into the chair at the table, and picks up the cheap, takeout chopsticks. "Because I'm not sharing."
"Mhm," Jungkook hums, then perches on the armrest beside Jin.
"I'm not," Jin insists.
Jungkook nudges his arm with his elbow in silent agreement, and Jin nods, picks up his phone to scroll through the day's social media, and starts eating.
It doesn't take long, Jungkook watching short videos and reading posts over his shoulder, leaning more and more into Jin's space, his chair, for Jin to relent and offer Jungkook a few bites from his bowl. As repayment, he makes Jungkook open the bottle of wine and watches his mouth slacken in concentration as he slowly twists the corkscrew.
Two glasses of wine are poured, one into the appropriate, gleaming glass delivered by room service, one into a complementary, plastic cup found beside the room's coffee machine. Jungkook, face scrunched into a sly smile, offers the plastic cup to Jin first, and laughs when Jin shouts and launches into a tirade of respect and hospitality. He gives in, gives the wine glass to Jin, and they settle back in their original positions, Jin relaxed and loose in his chair, Jungkook pressed close on the armrest.
They drink, and drink some more. Jungkook grabs Jin's phone when Jin is pouring the second round, and puts on a video of their latest concert. Sitting back down, Jin makes a face, uninterested, and ignores, instead picking at the leftovers of his dinner. Jungkook hangs off his back, an arm heavy around Jin's shoulders, eyebrows lowering as he leans forward more and more, gaze fixed on the tiny screen, studying the recording with critical eyes.
As the line between Jungkook's eyebrows deepen, Jin rolls his eyes, sets his glass down, and shoves Jungkook. It's in the past, their mistakes minuscule or, especially in Jungkook's case, nonexistent. There's no reason to worry about it. No reason for him to look so bothered. Jungkook barely reacts though, hardly moves at Jin's touch, so Jin tries again, shoves him with both hands and all his weight.
This time, Jungkook does react. Unfortunately, so does the chair.
Jungkook, unbalanced and taken off guard, scrambles at the back of the chair, legs tightening around the armrest, and the chair, Jin, and Jungkook tilt, wobble, and fall.
That's how they got to the floor.
Then, obviously, Jungkook had to retaliate, which led to an impromptu wrestling match. Jin fought dirty, and Jungkook retaliated to that too. Which is why Jin is now flat on his back, Jungkook straddling his hips, his hands captured above his head, both of them breathing heavily.
Ah. Right, Jin thinks. He has his explanation, but it doesn't explain much, and when he looks from Jungkook's arms to his face, he stops thinking entirely. Jungkook's face is blank, his mouth open, panting, his large, wide eyes flitting around, thoroughly examining Jin. His eyes, nose, lips, his hands, stretched arms, his throat, chest, stomach. His hips, bracketed by Jungkook. Jin takes another breath, and Jungkook's hands tighten around his wrists, eyes snapping back up to Jin's face.
Jin licks his lips, watches Jungkook's hazy gaze focus, and grins. "Well," he starts, and doesn't get any further.
Jungkook dives down, covers Jin's mouth with his own. It feels more like an attack than a kiss, and Jin laughs into Jungkook's wet mouth. He's cut off, again, by Jungkook biting his lower lip, teeth sharp and pulling, and Jin gasps, head rising from the floor as Jungkook releases and Jin chases. He misses Jungkook's mouth and presses pursed lips to his chin instead, correcting his mistake with a line of kisses along his jaw, and Jungkook whispers a curse, pushes him back down to the floor with an open, messy kiss, a tongue in Jin's mouth.
This, he thinks, as Jungkook's thumbs, still pinning his wrists, rub soft lines down the thin skin beneath his palm, is new.
They've been close since their debut. Strangely so, despite their age difference. Jin is five years older, the eldest in the band, but he's never acted like it. He's never been interested in etiquette, unless it's for his immediate benefit. For example, cleaning duties. Jin's always happy to bring up his age when it comes to housework. Otherwise, he's not that interested in age politics.
With Jungkook though, he's never had to pull rank. Unlike the other youngest members, Jungkook is always ready to help out. Jin's never had to nag about cooking or cleaning, like he has with some of the other members. Jungkook takes care of himself, Jin does the same, and so, in the end, they can just have fun, play around. Jungkook loves to play. So does Jin.
This, Jin supposes, also counts as playing. A new way to have fun.
Jungkook is a very tongue-forward kisser, Jin realizes. His mouth barely grazes Jin's lips as he's pressed further into the floor, Jungkook's tongue in his mouth, around his lips, against his teeth, licking Jin's tongue and lips, switching from teasing to insistent, his strong hands grinding Jin's wrist bones against each other.
It's wet, sloppy, both of their mouths and chins coated with glistening spit, and if Jin was watching, instead of a part of it, he would be able to confidently say it wasn't good. However, he's in it. He's under it. He gasps, his hands flexing beneath their binding, and lifts his hips.
They're both wearing sweatpants, chosen for the comfort of a night-in, the fabric soft and patient around filling dinners, bloated stomachs, lazy movement. They're made for stretching, not hiding, and they don't hide anything now, but they do stretch around a lower part of Jin, as he squeezes his eyes shut and groans, sliding his clothed dick against Jungkook's ass.
There's a second where Jin, after hearing himself, realizes what's happening. His thoughts catch up to reality, his face heats, and his hips stutter and fall.
They haven't fucking played around like this. This is not the fun that they have. This is something else. Something awful and scary and stupid and— Jin gasps and stops thinking when Jungkook grinds down, rolls his hips, and Jin feels him, hard and heavy, against his stomach.
Jin, his face redder but head emptier, thrusts a second, a third time, while Jungkook pants into his mouth, moves with him.
"Fuck," Jungkook breathes, mouth dragging down Jin's jaw to his neck, and his hands finally loosen around Jin's wrists.
Jin wastes no time in slipping out of his hold, and grabs Jungkook's waist. His fingers pull at the loose fabric of Jungkook's shirt, pulling it up, slipping his hands underneath, fingers running over Jungkook's soft, strong sides.
Jungkook curses again, gripping Jin's hair instead of his wrists, and he pulls, tilts Jin's head, and with the new angle, finally kisses him properly.
They fill the silence of the hotel room with the slick sounds of their mouths sliding against each other, their small sighs and soft groans magnified and loud. Jin's hands fall from Jungkook's waist to his hips, his thumbs hooked underneath the band of his sweatpants and Jungkook pauses, breaks apart, looks at Jin.
Slowly, staring down, he moves, presses a leg between Jin's, and nudges his knees apart. Jin, his thumb rubbing small circles into the soft skin under Jungkook's waistband, breathes, and nods, curls one leg around Jungkook's lower back.
"Fuck," Jungkook says. "You're so—" But Jin rises from the floor and cuts him off with another kiss.
They have fun. They're having a new sort of fun. Jin doesn't really want to hear about it though.
Jungkook silenced, his mouth, mostly his tongue, busy, Jin repositions. He may not be able to dance, but he's flexible. He slides his leg higher, heel rubbing up Jungkook's spine and pushes his other leg against Jungkook, his knee against his ass, his thigh against his dick.
Jungkook groans, bites Jin's lip, and grabs the back of Jin's thigh as his hips quicken, rutting against Jin's leg. He mutters something else, but Jin isn't listening, matching Jungkook's pace as he thrusts against his stomach, his eyes closed, his back arched off the carpet.
They grow thoughtless as they move faster, rougher, moaning and mouthing at each other, the muscles in their legs tight, strained, their hands fumbling clumsily at each other, grabbing clothes, fingers running through hair, scratching against whatever bare skin they can find.
Jungkook comes first, hips stuttering around Jin's thigh, Jin's bottom lip caught between his teeth. After, he kisses Jin's cheeks, his chin, his neck while breathing encouragements, praises, and Jin squeezes his eyes shut, covers Jungkook's mouth with a hand, and wraps his second leg around Jungkook's back. He frots against him, his covered cock against Jungkook's bare stomach, and when Jungkook breathes heavily, hot against his hand, and kisses his palm, he comes.
They pause, taking a moment to catch their breath, chests heaving, then Jin's hands and legs fall to the floor, and Jungkook leans forward, his eyes on Jin's mouth. There's one beat too long of hesitation, where they share each others air, mouths flirting with the idea of meeting, then Jin wakes up, blinks. He sits, shoves Jungkook off, and doesn't look at him. He looks at the space between his spread legs instead, the grey carpet of the hotel room, unassuming and innocent. Jin takes a breath, holds it in his lungs, counts to three, and then exhales.
"Okay," he says. "Go get cleaned up." He breathes in again. Jungkook, sitting beside him, doesn't move. Jin closes his eyes, sighs. "I have extra pants you can borrow. Go."
Jungkook obeys. Jin falls onto his back and clasps his hands on his stomach, ignores the wet heat spreading in his pants, and shakes his head to clear his thoughts.
He doesn't know how much time has passed, laid out and frozen on the hotel's floor, counting his breaths, when Jungkook taps his shoulder gently, and Jin smiles, eyes still closed, and stands up on shaky legs.
The bathroom is easy to find. It's Jin's second day here and he has a good sense of direction, so he doesn't have to open his eyes until he's in the bathroom, in front of the bright, wide mirror. Once his hands are on the cool, marble counter, his back bent, he braves opening his eyes and looks up. He blinks, laughs. His hair is mussed, standing in uneven spikes off his shiny forehead, his shirt stretched and wrinkled, his lips red and swollen. He looks like a fucking mess. A fucked mess.
Sure, he thinks. Okay. He can deal with this. It's not the worst thing that's he's done, by a long shot, and it's in the past. The recent past, but whatever. There's no reason to worry about it. He and Jungkook have a reputation already. A chaotic duo, or whatever the fans say. This is just another one of those fun, chaotic things. He can deal with it. He takes a second more to look at his reflection, to convince himself that it doesn't matter, then looks away and shimmies out of his sweats.
By the time Jin has cleaned himself, changed, and convinced himself that this was all a weird fantasy, something manageable, just a blip in their group's shared history, the bathroom door opens. Jin stills, his hands around the edge of the counter, shirtless and legs bare, the rest of him covered only by a pair of short, grey boxers.
He breathes as he's pressed against the counter, a warm chest laid over his cool back, and his hands tighten their grip, his knuckles white, his eyes avoiding his reflection.
"I thought you left," he says lightly.
"Why?" Jungkook asks, and it sounds genuine. His voice is soft, sweet, and he's hard against Jin's back. Again. Somehow. Jin's head falls, his chin at his chest, and he laughs.
"Really?" He's too old for this. He's not old, but he's still too old for this. It's ridiculous. Even so, he bites his lip, arches his back.
"Yeah," Jungkook says, hands grazing Jin's hips. "Why would I leave? I like you."
At that, Jin looks up, meets Jungkook's eye through the mirror, and he raises his eyebrows. "You just want to get off again."
He's fishing, he knows it, but he likes to fish.
"Yeah," Jungkook admits.
Jin makes a face. He likes to fish, but he forgot he's bad at it. Jungkook takes the bait and escapes. He just wants to get off again. Jin turns around, Jungkook's hands dragging against the fabric of Jin's boxers as he twists. The touch is light, gentle. Infuriating. Jin frowns, places his hands on Jungkook's chest. "Go over there," he says and pushes him away.
Jungkook obediently falls back, stands against the wall opposing the mirror, his hands folded politely behind him, and Jin tilts his head, regarding.
Jungkook is fully clothed, his chest rising and falling with soft, fast breaths, watching Jin, his face blank and mouth slack. Jin purses his lips, glances down to Jungkook's risen pants. A fantasy. A blip. Fun. Manageable. He looks up, meets Jungkook's eyes, and Jungkook smiles hesitantly.
"Are you—" Jungkook says. "What's up? It was good, right?"
"Hm," Jin replies, glancing over his shoulder at his reflection. He pauses, not looking at himself, but at Jungkook, whose mouth gapes open even wider, his shoulders hard, his pants tight. "I guess."
Jungkook bites his lip and Jin swallows a smile.
"Take off your shirt," he says, turning around, and Jungkook scrambles, a flurry of motion. When he stands back up, his shirt is off, his chest and abs risen, sharp, well defined.
It's good. He looks good. Jin forces himself to stay still, to look at Jungkook's face, and shrugs, smirks, trying for casual. He waves a hand in the general direction of Jungkook and scoffs, "You're flexing."
Jungkook's face flushes, his torso softens, and he frowns, points. "Your ears are red," he counters. He points again, "Your whole face is red. Really red."
"Ah," Jin sighs and turns away again, flapping a hand. "That doesn't mean anything. I always blush when people are looking at me."
"Well," Jungkook says. "I always want to look at you."
Jin's response is a short, surprised laugh. He glances to the ceiling, smiles at it in disbelief. Manageable. It's fine. He folds his arms, cocks his hip, and glances at the wall over Jungkook's shoulder. "Take off your pants," he says.
"Shit. Yeah." Jungkook bends, tripping out of his pants, and when he stands, he's a foot away from the wall. A foot closer to Jin. Jin frowns, shoos him back, and Jungkook grins, flattens himself back against the white tile. "Are you— Are we—?" He asks.
"What? Are we what?"
Jungkook takes a breath, his chest broad, his stomach tight, and his smile drops, his eyes wide. "You know, can we—"
"What?" Jin asks slowly, sweetly. "Can we what?"
This is manageable. This is what Jin is used to. Teasing. Having fun. As long as he keeps his eyes away from Jungkook's tented pants, he can smile, can convince himself that this is normal. Because it is. It's not like he hasn't seen any other member's boners. Jungkook isn't special.
They came together, sure, but that was one time. Not special. Manageable.
"Can we—" Jungkook interrupts himself this time with a groan, his hands moving from his back to scrub through his hair. He shakes his head, laces his fingers at the back of his neck, and bows his head, looking up at Jin with dark eyes. "Can you— Will you blow me?"
"What?" Jin exclaims, his voice at its highest pitch. "No!" he adds as he covers his mouth. He knows what his mouth looks like, where Jungkook's imagination has taken him, and Jin won't allow it. "No," He repeats, muffled, still shocked. "What?"
"Please," Jungkook pleads, his hands falling from his neck to refold behind his back, and he flexes, arms large, muscles pretty and defined. "I'll do you too, when you're—" He smirks, bites his lip. "When you can, I mean."
That's a low blow, and speaking of blowing— No. He won't. He shouldn't. He shakes his head to convince himself that his answer is no, and beckons Jungkook forward.
"Come here," he huffs, and Jungkook wastes no time in meeting him at the bathroom counter, pressing him against the slick stone edge. Jungkook leans in, but Jin stops him with a hand at his collarbone.
"Kiss my neck," he murmurs, and Jungkook obediently lowers his head, drags his lips lightly against the side of Jin's neck, kissing, nipping and sucking soft marks into the pale skin. Jin tilts his head, allowing Jungkook more room, his fingers dancing from the hollow of Jungkook's neck down his chest to his hard stomach. When they reach Jungkook's waistband, they pause, tickling along the hem.
"Fuck," Jungkook gasps, his mouth paused against Jin's neck.
Jin laughs, breathes, and presses a kiss to the side of Jungkook's lowered head. Muffled by his hair, he whispers, "Tell me what you want."
"Anything," Jungkook says quickly.
"Oh? Anything?" He removes his hand, leans back, and Jungkook makes a small noise. Jin watches him, his fingertips a breath away from Jungkook's cock, and tilts his head, licks his lips, and smiles. "You want me? Or anything?"
"Please," Jungkook whines. "Jin. Please. You." His arms, still folded behind his back, tense, and he continues in a frustrated but quiet, admission. "I want you."
Jin inhales, the vague, clean scent of Jungkook's thick hair filling his nose, and he presses his palm against Jungkook, hard and hot through the thin fabric of his boxers. Jin takes his time, hand tracing the shape of him, knowing that he's teasing, and not caring. He grins as Jungkook whispers a frustrated curse against his neck, and thrusts desperately against Jin's hand.
"Jin," Jungkook says again, moans, his forehead slumped against Jin's shoulder. "Please."
It's unlike his other pleas, soft and shy, an embarrassed whisper. Needy. Jin bites his lip, slips his hand down Jungkook's shorts, and grabs him. He's not big, but he's thick, and he's wet. Jin rubs his thumb over the tip, and knows he's teasing, and does care, spreading slick precome over Jungkook's length. "It'd be better with—" he starts apologetically, long fingers curling over Jungkook, slowly moving. "Lotion, lube. Something. Do you want me to—?"
"No, no, fuck, no," Jungkook says. "Don't stop. Thank you."
This might be the most polite Jin has heard Jungkook. Towards him, at least. He huffs a laugh, speeds his strokes. "You're cute," he says.
"Fuck— Fuck off," Jungkook whispers, and bites Jin's shoulder.
"Ah," Jin gasps, his grip tightening, and Jungkook curses appreciatively, pushing deeper into Jin's hand. Jin grabs Jungkook's hip with his other hand, stilling him, and moves his hand, quick then slow. Tight, then soft.
"This is the last time," he says, hands gripped around Jungkook, one holding him down, the other fucking him. This is fun, but it's manageable. Jin breathes, "I like you too, but this is the last time, okay?"
"Yeah, sure," Jungkook says. "Yeah. Jin. Please, fuck, faster."
Jin's not sure Jungkook heard him, if he's in the right mind to agree at the moment, but his stomach is pulsing, his muscles fluttering around quick, shallow breaths, and Jin decides he doesn't really care. He leans in, kisses Jungkook's cheekbone, and strokes him until he groans, low and long, his cock jerking in his hand, and comes.
"Fuck," Jungkook laughs as Jin pulls a white painted hand from his shorts, making a face. "You're so beautiful," he says, and before Jin can turn to wash his hand, he takes Jin's face in his hands, and kisses him.
Jin closes his eyes, reaches out with his clean hand to hold his neck, and thinks about before, when Jungkook leaned in, when he pushed him away. He also thinks of Jungkook's plea, of his visit. Jungkook's strange shyness, that appears only rarely now, six years since their debut. His neediness, loneliness, that Jin could start to believe is reserved maybe only for him.
He tilts his head to fit them better together. He's not trying to start something else, just wants them to be closer. Because he cares. They have fun together, but there's always been something else. Something like understanding. Jin fits them together now to chase that feeling.
They stay like that for a minute, maybe five, maybe ten, just kissing gently, with Jungkook's boxers drying and Jin's coated, glazed hand stiff and upright at the edge of the bathroom counter.
Jungkook is the first to pull away, and he replaces his mouth with his hand, thumb dragging across Jin's swollen, bitten lip. His eyes are wide, dark, his mouth open, corners quirked into a shadow of a smile. "You're incredible."
Jin blinks, sucks in his lips, and turns away, turning on the faucet. "I know," he says primly and washes the evidence from his hands. He closes his eyes, takes a breath. They understand each other. They've had fun. He can still manage this. He waits until his hands are soaped, rinsed, and dried, before he turns back around, and finds Jungkook frozen, watching him with the same dazed but pleased expression Jin left him with.
"I'm incredible," he says, and points downward. "And you're a mess."
"Yeah," Jungkook laughs, head ducked into his chest. "Shit. That was—"
"Incredible," Jin deadpans. "You can use the shower."
"What should I do about—?" He gestures vaguely at his crotch and raises his eyebrows.
"I don't know," Jin nearly shouts, then takes a breath. He's in control of this situation and himself too. He smiles. "Throw them away. Leave them on the floor. I don't care. Just wear the sweatpants, they'll get you back to your room at least."
It's fine. He's fine. There's nothing to worry about. He snaps his fingers, points to the shower, and when Jungkook starts to laugh, he claps his hands, pointing again at the shower. He manages to turn around the second that Jungkook drops his boxers and thankfully doesn't see him, his body bare, strong, taut and young. Jin has too many memories to haunt him without adding that image.
Once Jin's rushed out of the bathroom, his eyes fall immediately to the floor, the space where they came against each other, and he closes his eyes, covers his mouth, and exhales noisily out through his nose.
When Jungkook comes out of the bathroom, sweaty and shiny from the shower, shirtless, his sweatpants rolled low over his hips, Jin tightens his mouth. He's dressed in a pair of striped pajama pants and a loose sweater, propped against a pile of pillows at his bed's headboard. Jungkook climbs onto the bed next to him, folds his legs, and leans forward, elbows on the mattress, his chin in his hands, his eyes wide on Jin. Maybe he should've avoided the bed, Jin thinks, glancing to the still toppled chair from earlier in the evening.
"If it's the last time," Jungkook starts, fingers drumming against his cheek. "Do you just mean, tonight? Or like, was the bathroom the last time?"
"Tonight, I guess," Jin says warily. He had hoped Jungkook hadn't heard him. He had hoped that Jungkook would swagger out of the bathroom and out of the door and in the morning, they'd do a photo shoot with the rest of the band and everything would be normal.
"Okay," Jungkook nods, and hums. He cocks his head to the side and one hand falls to the bedspread, fingers grazing the side of Jin's knee. "Why just tonight?"
"Come on," Jin scoffs, his leg sliding into Jungkook's fingers. "Be serious. How would it work?" He waves a hand at the room, eyebrows high. "With everything we do? It's absurd. You know it is. It should never have even happened."
Jungkook's hand slides over Jin's knee and above, landing on his thigh. "Okay," he agrees again, and his mouth twists, his lips sucked into his mouth. He frowns. "If it is just tonight, then I don't have to leave yet, right?"
"Right, I guess," Jin says slowly, his eyes on Jungkook's hand, his legs spreading wider.
"Then," Jungkook says and looks up. "Can I fuck you later? Or you could fuck me. Tonight."
Jin's legs snap together, his eyes widen, and he laughs. "What? You want more? Really?" He's incredulous, his face and ears hot.
"Well? Can we?" Jungkook asks, and he looks so innocent when he says it. Jin's head hits the wall with a loud thunk, and he hears Jungkook continue, his voice soft but insistent. "I really want to. If it's just for tonight."
Yes, Jin thinks. "No," Jin says. "Jungkook, no. Think about it. What about the group?"
"I don't want to fuck them, do I?" Jungkook snaps. "You said it's just tonight. I'm asking about tonight."
"And I'm asking about the future," Jin snaps back. He opens his eyes, finds Jungkook frowning at him, his shoulders tense. "This?" Jin asks, gesturing between them. "This is forgettable. We can move on. What you want, what you're asking, we can't forget that."
Jungkook pauses, then smirks, and Jin blushes. He raises his hands to protest, but Jungkook beats him to it.
"You couldn't forget it, huh?" he asks, unfolding and sliding against the bed, chest pressed against Jin's side. He tucks his chin onto Jin's shoulder and his hand moves up Jin's thigh. "You said you liked me," he murmurs.
"No, I didn't," Jin lies. Jungkook bites his shoulder and Jin winces. "Yes, okay, I did, but I only said it for you. To make you feel good."
"Do you want to fuck me? Or," Jungkook moves again, presses his lips against the bare skin above Jin's collar. "Do you want me to fuck you?"
"I'm not that easy," Jin replies, and knows it's not true. He's already given into Jungkook twice, and he's ready, too ready, to give in a third time. He's embarrassingly easy.
"I know," Jungkook says, sweetly agreeing to Jin's obvious lie. "I'll take you to dinner," he continues, kissing along Jin's collar, hand straying dangerously close to Jin's dick. "And flowers. I'll buy you flowers. And jewelry, too, or clothes. I'll take you on all sorts of dates."
Jin pauses, hating himself for letting this get so out of hand, but it's just for tonight. It's still a fantasy. "Where," he asks, eventually.
"Sky-diving."
"No."
"Paintball," Jungkook laughs.
"No!" Jin shouts, twisting away, but Jungkook grabs him, still laughing.
"Okay, um, an art gallery," he tries again.
"You don't know me at all, do you?" Jin is starting to feel offended, and he feels stupid for it. It's just tonight after all. It's not supposed to be real.
Jungkook hums, moves so he's sitting side by side with Jin, and grabs Jin's hand. He takes his time interlacing their fingers together, eyes down and focused, and then pulls their joined hands up, kisses Jin's knuckles. "Fishing. I want to take you fishing."
"Better," Jin breathes.
"Just us. I'd get a boat, a nice one. I'd spend a lot of money on it, and it'd still probably be the wrong one," Jungkook laughs. "Maybe on purpose. To make you yell at me."
Jin keeps his face still, expressionless. "And?"
"And I definitely wouldn't wake up early enough, and you'd be mad at me. But I would," Jungkook pauses, licks his lips, and frowns in concentration. "I would get up. We'd be there for the whole weekend, and I'd set, like, ten alarms, just for you. And I'd try really, really hard to not distract you."
"That would be nice," Jin says.
"Yeah. I would be nice."
"Would you cook the fish I caught?"
"No," Jungkook laughs, sinking down the bed beside Jin, pulling his hand down with him, held at his chest, over his heart. "You would cook. I'd make you cook, because you're so good at it and because I like watching you do it. I'd help, though. I'd sing for you."
"That doesn't sound helpful."
"No, but you'd like it," Jungkook grins.
"And then?" Jin prompts.
"And then—" Jungkook sucks in a breath, kisses Jin's hand and releases it, sits up. He runs his hands through his hair, shakes his head, and grins. "And then, I don't know." He shrugs. "That's all— all I want to say."
The hotel room feels both too large and too cramped as Jin looks away from Jungkook and folds his hands underneath his arms, crossed over his skinny chest. Their job, their band, their life feels, like the hotel room, both insurmountable and meaningless. He doesn't worry about the past, he's good at moving on. He worries more about the future, but he's good at brushing those thoughts away too. There's something here, though, something in the middle. Something that involves the past, the present, and the future, and it could be real. In a way, it already is real. It's serious and Jin can't manage it.
He pushes himself from the headboard and folds his knees, drapes his arms around his shins, and drops his head into the space between his legs. He takes a deep breath, then releases it around a thread of quick strung words. "I want you to take me fishing and I want to fuck you," he rushes out.
"Shit," Jungkook breathes, and he drapes himself over Jin's folded back like a blanket, his mouth hot at Jin's ear. "Yeah. I like that."
"It's what you said," Jin whines, then corrects himself before Jungkook can, louder and whinier. "It's what you implied."
"It's hot. You're really hot," Jungkook replies and kisses the shell of Jin's ear.
"No, it's not. It's stupid," Jin says between his knees. He's fully lost the plot, lost in thoughts of a cramped bed on a fishing boat, of Jungkook in the bathroom, asking for a blowjob, offering one. He regrets ever answering his door. Namjoon wouldn't do this. Suga, Hobi, any of the others wouldn't do this. Where are they, when he needs them?
Jin's a fool. He couldn't manage this. He was stupid to think he could.
"We can't go fishing tonight," he whispers, a little desperate, a little hysterical.
"Yeah," Jungkook says slowly, carding one hand through Jin's hair, scratching his second hand down Jin's back. "I know. That's why I brought it up."
"I know it's why you brought it up," Jin shouts. He takes a breath, calms down, and looks up, staring resolutely at the opposite wall, at the black mirrored television, at their blurry reflection, bodies mixed together. "Next weekend," he says, "Or whenever, whenever I decide, I'm going to ask you to go fishing, and you're going to agree."
"I'm going to agree," Jungkook agrees.
"And now, right now," Jin continues, chin tilted up. "You're going to go back to your room, and we aren't going to think about it. Until I say."
"Until you say," Jungkook nods. Otherwise, he doesn't move, still draped over Jin's back, mouth at his ear, hands rubbing up and down Jin's arms. Jin frowns, shrugs and shimmies his shoulders, hoping Jungkook will take the hint. He doesn't. He asks, "What's up? Are you okay?"
"I'm trying to get you to leave," Jin snaps.
"Oh," Jungkook says, finally moving away. "You should've said something."
"I did say something. I said you were going to go back to your room and not think about it until I told you to," Jin says, shoving at Jungkook's shoulders.
"I thought that meant like, later," Jungkook says, letting himself be slowly pushed from the bed by Jin, smiling and tousled and still fucking shirtless.
Jin, feeling a lot like he's sweeping stubborn vermin out the room with a broom, eventually shoves Jungkook to the front door and past the threshold. Breathing heavily with the effort of getting him out, he leans against the door and closes his eyes. "Go. Don't think about it."
"I'm going to," Jungkook smirks, his shirt clutched against his bare chest. Jin can only imagine what someone else would think, if they happened to open their door now. He kicks Jungkook's shin.
"Go," he says. "Get out of here. I don't want to see you again."
"Until we go fishing," Jungkook nods, winks.
Jin kicks him again, but Jungkook dodges it, skips away.
"Next time," he laughs quietly, biting his lip. He's already halfway to his door, only being a few feet away and all, but Jin wishes he was further. Wishes he never met him, never answered the door, never shoved him off the chair, never entertained any of this.
Jungkook points at Jin, grins. "Next time, it's a date."