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"That was good. Really good," says Yoongi as Jimin steps out from behind the microphone with his hot cheeks and barely-contained smile.
Yoongi stands from his chair when Jimin approaches, slapping his back in encouragement, and as he turns to leave the room, Jimin reaches forward, grips Yoongi's shoulder.
It's not that he's hungry for approval or even that he doubts his capabilities, nor is it that he's fishing for compliments. He just likes to be doted on, to have people voice their commendation. The feeling that it stirs in him is addictive, and it's a feeling that he wants to drown in, to bathe in, to experience ten times over.
And when it's Yoongi who's doting on him, that warmth that spreads throughout Jimin's whole body is unlike any feeling he's felt before.
"You really think I did good?" Jimin asks after stopping Yoongi from exiting, "You're not lying, are you?"
A furrow forms between Yoongi's brows as he cocks his head to the side, studying Jimin quietly, and Jimin wonders what's going through Yoongi's head, if he's questioning why Jimin's watching him with wide, hope-filled eyes, with anticipation etched across his features as he gnaws absently on his lower lip.
Yoongi smiles, "No, Jimin. I'm not lying." He strokes Jimin's upper arm gently, and the tiniest flutter of butterflies bursts in the pit of Jimin's stomach when Yoongi continues, lowly, almost knowingly, "You were so good."
Jimin flushes, a light, pink colour blossoming on the rounds of his cheeks, "Thank you."
When Jimin drifts off to sleep that night, his mind plays Yoongi's words back to him like a broken record.
They come together at the end of an arduous day, falling onto the sofa the moment they deposit their bags by the doorway, kicking off their shoes, uncaring as to where they land in the living room. Jimin always ends up near Yoongi, leaning against him, sitting in the silence that hangs heavy in the air as Yoongi occupies himself with his phone.
He finds it comforting to be in Yoongi's presence, especially when exhaustion seeps into his bones and he becomes softer, snuggly, even. His speech slurs from tiredness, and his movements become limited, and it's endearing, how Yoongi tries to play off the fact that he wants Jimin to lean into him, to cover him like a blanket when he positions himself with his back against the arm of the sofa.
Jimin goes to move, to make his exit, but Yoongi's quick to grip his wrist, to shake his head, "Ah, sit back down."
Jimin does. He sits, positioning himself in-between Yoongi's legs, taking initiative as he reclines back until his back is pressed up against Yoongi's front.
He can feel Yoongi's heart pound against his back when he's like this, can feel the warmth of his breath hitting the nape of his neck, sending small little shivers trickling down his spine.
It's routine now, for them to quietly experiment in the dim light of night, with few words and soft caresses aplenty. Yoongi's fingers find their way to the fuzziness of Jimin's hair, and Jimin's eyes flutter when he massages small circles into his scalp. He can't help but lean into Yoongi's touch, like a puppy leaning into its owner's touch.
He exhales quietly when Yoongi shifts, pushes himself up, Jimin in-turn sliding further down his front. His scalp tingles beneath Yoongi's fingers, and the tips of his ears have started to burn as that feeling in his stomach returns, that one that he can't quite pinpoint, that he couldn't even explain if he tried, but it's a feeling that he wants to experience again, and agan, and again.
A soft hum escapes him when Yoongi's fingers card in amongst the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck, his head lolling to the side when his touch trails lower, over his ear, snaking around the sides of his neck until his palms stay resting on his shoulders, fingers dipping beneath the collar of Jimin's shirt to rest on his clavicles.
It's nothing new, nothing that they haven't done before, but for some reason or another, Jimin finds his breath shallowing, his stomach twisting, a familiar heat beginning to brew at the base of his spine as the pads of Yoongi's fingers stroke lightly over his collarbones.
As Jimin's eyes slip shut, his attention shifts to the feel of Yoongi pressed up against him, of how comforting it is to have him so close, of how nice his touch feels. His hands move from Jimin's clavicles to rest on his shoulderblades, where Yoongi kneads lightly, and in-turn, draws from Jimin a soft sigh, his limbs becoming even more like putty than they were before.
"Is that nice?" comes Yoongi's soft husk, slicing through Jimin's thoughts and the darkness of night around them.
His stomach swoops, and he rolls his shoulders lightly, making a noise of affirmation in the back of his throat that could easily pass as a moan.
Yoongi takes it a step further by bowing his head, by nuzzling his nose in amongst the hair at the nape of Jimin's neck, by inhaling and feeling intoxicated by Jimin's innate scent. With one hand remaining on Jimin's back and the other exploring lower, dipping over the bend of Jimin's waist to rest on his hip, Jimin's senses focus on that feather-light touch, that resting weight on his hip.
The hotness of Yoongi's breath makes Jimin shiver, and the fluttery feeling is returning, the one that Yoongi stirs with his words. He says Yoongi's name, just to fill the silence, to test the waters, to see if Yoongi will balk. But he doesn't, he definitely isn't spooked by Jimin's utterance, because his lips have suddenly pressed lightly against the skin just below Jimin's ear, and his hand resting on Jimin's hip has started to grip hard.
Jimin tilts his head to the side, and in doing so, exposes his neck for Yoongi's lips' taking, for bruised-looking splotches to be sucked into his skin.
He's scared to breathe, to ask Yoongi what he's doing, why he's doing it, why he just mumbled something incoherent into Jimin's skin. He's scared because he feels hot, like Yoongi's holding a match to their points of contact, setting his skin alight with his tender touches. "Hyung," he hears himself say shakily, tentatively, immediately regretting it when the smacking noise of Yoongi's lips against his skin halts.
He turns then, levelling Yoongi's gaze, glancing down to the pout of his lips and then back up to his dark depths. Yoongi makes no move to speak, instead waits for Jimin to continue, and Jimin had half-hoped that Yoongi would have known what he was going to say, that he'd twigged Jimin's little quirk long ago, what with him constantly seeking validation, approval, adoration.
Jimin swallows hard, pushes down the feeling of embarrassment that's made evident by his reddening cheeks.
"Could you... Speak to me?" Jimin asks, his heart skipping a beat when Yoongi's brows raise upwards. What he's asking sounds innocent enough, and he inwardly grimaces, because though his request comes from a place of curiosity as to how Yoongi will react, there's a conflicting part of him whose intentions are much darker, much bolder.
Yoongi frowns; it seems that he's not as observant as Jimin thought him to be (and Jimin really wouldn't mind if the earth swallowed him whole right there and then).
"Speak to you?" Yoongi repeats confoundedly, his other hand dropping from Jimin's neck to rest on his other hip.
He doesn't want to spell it out for Yoongi, not just because he's embarrassed, but because he doesn't know how exactly to go about broaching the topic, if he should flat-out say, 'The way you compliment me makes my heart want to burst out of my chest,' or if he should instead choose the more refined route.
He feels Yoongi's thumbs rub mindless circles into his clothed hips, and Jimin twists himself around to catch Yoongi's gaze, "Like you did the other day... In the studio."
If Jimin had access to a cricket-chirping audio, he would've played it as a means of explaining Yoongi's bemused countenance. "I can barely remember two hours ago, Jimin. You're gonna have to elaborate," Yoongi smiles, and Jimin visibly shrinks, shoulders drooping as his confidence wanes and his shame mounts.
But if he wants this, if he wants to hear Yoongi's sweet words, he has to dig down deep within himself, to throw his dignity to the wind. He inhales, twists all the way around until his legs are crossed and his knees are touching Yoongi's, "This might sound weird, but..." he stops, and his chest thumps as his heart-rate soars to alarming heights.
Yoongi's watching him, frowning, completely and utterly lost as to what Jimin's proposing. But Yoongi's hands rest on Jimin's knees in a quiet, supporting gesture, and his eyes are soft as he studies Jimin's expression, "What's so bad about weirdness?"
As he's always been one to allay norms and expectations of people, Jimin's struck by the realisation that this is Yoongi he's talking to. Yoongi, who is uncaring as to what's deemed, 'normal,' or what's not, Yoongi, who is, if anything, antithetical to 'normal,' Yoongi, who never passes judgment on anyone.
With newfound courage, Jimin sits tall, and delivers the words he'd been struggling to spill, "I like it when you compliment me," he bursts, "You have this way of saying things," he's staring down at Yoongi's lap, too afraid to meet his feline-like stare, "It's nice, how you validate me... How you tell me how good I'm doing at any given thing."
He fiddles absently with the sleeve of his hoodie, like it's the most interesting thing in the world, and the weight of Yoongi's stare is the heaviest its ever been.
He feels Yoongi shift, hears him clear his throat, "I see," Yoongi stops, drums his fingers against Jimin's upper thigh, and Jimin finally meets his stare. He's happy to find that Yoongi isn't frowning or pouting in contemplation, his expression is instead neutral more than anything as he mulls over Jimin's words in his head. "I can't remember my exact words, but I'll give it a go. I guess."
A happiness unlike no other threatens to shine from Jimin, and he can't hide his small, shy smile when Yoongi gazes fondly at him.
They resume their previous ministrations, with Yoongi doing nothing more than rubbing his hand over Jimin's bicep, slouching forward and pressing their foreheads together. Jimin's breath stutters when Yoongi breaks contact where their foreheads were touched, and he presses the lightest of kisses to Jimin's plump cheek, "Thank you for telling me."
Thank him? If anything, Jimin wants to thank Yoongi, is willing to thank Yoongi in any form he wants to be thanked in.
Yoongi continues, and it's painful, how gentle he is, how careful he is with Jimin, making him feel like glass that could easily shatter.
"I don't need to ask you to be good for me, because I know you will be," Yoongi whispers, and honestly, Jimin could easily melt into Yoongi's embrace.
A sound akin to a soft whine sounds from Jimin as Yoongi descends downwards, his lips pressing feather-light against his pulse, his tongue licking across Jimin's skin, leaving a maze of wet trails in its wake. "What do you want me to do for you, hyung?" Jimin pants as he rests his hand on Yoongi's shoulders and feels a shock of bliss strike his very core.
Yoongi doesn't answer right away, instead thinks hard about how tonight should unfurl, how he should treat Jimin after learning of his little quirk. Yoongi lifts his head, a soft smack sound echoing through the living room when his lips pull off of Jimin's skin, "I wouldn't be opposed to gazing at you for hours on end, but that might be a tad unproductive," he says gruffly.
Oh, fuck.
The fluttering within Jimin, the heat, the fire licking at the base of his spine, the high noise threatening to burst from the pit of his stomach, fuck.
His throat feels dry, drier than its ever felt, and Jimin swallows to try and feel like he isn't in a sweltering desert. "Yeah?" is all he has to offer, but Yoongi doesn't seem perturbed, not when Jimin sees his tongue dart out to wet his lower lip, his eyes focused down in the direction of Jimin's chewed, pillowed lip, "Instead of watching me, you could kiss me..." Jimin suggests brazenly, and receives what he yearns as Yoongi's lips meet his.
They kiss languidly, lips gliding smoothly together, Jimin's soft noises slipping past his lips and into Yoongi's, into the air around them. "Those little noises are beautiful," Yoongi comments, each word punctuated by a kiss, "Like yourself," he adds, and Jimin has to entangle his arms around Yoongi's neck or else face collapsing into a puddle on his lap.
It's like Yoongi's words have filled a void within Jimin, an emptiness that he didn't know was there, an emptiness that needed to be filled with words of commendation. Yoongi tastes like peppermint and spices, and when his tongue gently parts Jimin's lips to swirl around Jimin's, Jimin allows his filter to fall. He whimpers, and bunches Yoongi's shirt up in his fist as Yoongi's tongue licks over his teeth, and then Jimin becomes acutely aware of Yoongi's hands flattening against his lower back, cascading downwards, resting on his ass and pulling him forward and onto his lap.
Yoongi hisses once when Jimin knees him by accident, and Jimin giggles shyly as he mumbles his apology against Yoongi's lips.
"Mmm, look at you," Yoongi drawls, fingertips digging into the clothed flesh of Jimin's ass, "You should take your shirt off."
He follows Yoongi's suggestion, perhaps a bit too readily as he makes quick work of his shirt in record time before tossing it aside.
The darkness in Yoongi's eyes grows impossibly darker, hungrier, even, as he places his hand flat against Jimin's tummy, drawing his bottom lip into his mouth as Jimin jolts when his cold touch reaches his searing skin. He doesn't like his state of undress and Yoongi's lack thereof, and he meets Yoongi's stare, raising one eyebrow to signal for Yoongi to follow suit, which he does. "Help me out of this," Yoongi commands, and Jimin, ever eagerly obedient, does so by popping open every button of Yoongi's shirt.
He pushes the shirt off of Yoongi's shoulders, discarding it behind him when he pulls the sleeve off of Yoongi's arm, and now, with his own honey-toned skin contrasting Yoongi's paler, golden tan, Jimin indulges himself by circling his hips lightly, feeling Yoongi against his ass, sighing contentedly when Yoongi's hands grip his hips tightly. "Jimin," Yoongi whispers, eyes focused down on the rolling, entrancing movement of Jimin's hips.
Jimin's belt buckle hangs open from earlier exertion, and it makes a clanging noise with each movement of Jimin's hips. The cacophony is enough to send Jimin to a place in his mind that's wholly consumed by lust. He's growing hard, and he wants nothing more than to open his fly and wrap his hand around himself to relieve some of the coiling heat within him.
That's a lie. There is something that he craves more than his own pleasure.
"Yoongi," he begins, "I want to make you feel good."
With his own voice sounding tight and strained, Jimin marvels over Yoongi's sounding deep and gruff. "How so?" Yoongi asks, challenging Jimin, waiting to see how he'll elaborate, how he'll go about suggesting they go further than kissing, than mindless, animalistic, maddening rutting.
Jimin swallows, licks the dryness of his lips, and says, as clear and bold as day, "I want to suck your cock."
He grinds down against Yoongi to emphasise just how much he wants what's beneath Yoongi's trousers, and pride shoots up through him when Yoongi curses lowly, hips thrusting upwards to meet the light roll of Jimin's. He remains watching Jimin move atop of him for a moment, like his hips are a pendulum, putting him in a trance before he stops Jimin abruptly. "You wanna suck my cock?" there's a roughness to his voice now, his accent thick and heavy, wrapping around his words as a result of his clarity waning from lust.
"I do. I really do," Jimin nods eagerly, hips stilling, hands already getting to work on Yoongi's belt, but Yoongi's quick to stop him.
"Ah, ah," he scolds lightly, "I didn't give you permission yet, baby."
Jimin doesn't even try to contain his startled moan, nor does he try to hide the fact that Yoongi's 'baby,' just sent him teetering over the edge. "Sorry," Jimin offers, and holds Yoongi's stare when he suddenly feels Yoongi's thumb parting his lips, dipping into his mouth. He circles Yoongi's digit, teases the tip of his finger, and the euphoria that surges within him when he sees Yoongi watching him intently is like no other.
Yoongi's hand recoils, and he lightly bucks up against Jimin's hips, signalling him to stand, which Jimin does, albeit a bit wobbly. He looks down at Yoongi as he shifts, leans back into the sofa, planting his hands by his sides and parting his legs comfortably before finally meeting Jimin's stare. Yoongi smirks, "On your knees."
It hurts, the force in which Jimin connects with the ground in his eagerness, but only slightly, and he sits, waiting patiently for Yoongi's next command.
Yoongi grins, "I think you deserve it, don't you?" he says, "You want this?" he rasps, making a point to draw his lower lip in-between his teeth as he strokes the outline of his half-hard cock lightly through his trousers. Jimin watches with his tongue feeling heavy in his mouth; of course he wants to be rewarded with Yoongi's dick, "You've been so good for me this far, I think you deserve my cock, Jiminnie."
Fuck.
In his attempt to not come across as being too eager, too hungry for the taste of Yoongi's length, Jimin swallows hard, grounds himself, tries to ignore the twitch of his own pulsating member in his jeans. He nods, and it's enough for Yoongi to gaze down at him adoringly, and it's what Jimin wants, what he's always wanted; to be revered, to have his good behaviour recognised, to be commended for his complacency.
"I do deserve it, hyung."
"I want you to wait a bit, first. Okay?" Yoongi croons, and Jimin repositions himself so that his weight is more on his hunkers than his knees. Waiting isn't something he's prepared to do, but it's soon made better by Yoongi holding Jimin's gaze whilst unbuttoning his jeans, pulling his zipper down, and then having the audacity to smirk as he palms himself through his trousers before mewling, "You're going to watch me."
Jimin does. He watches.
He becomes captivated as soon as Yoongi frees himself, pushing his jeans down over his thighs and inhaling sharply as he finally, finally wraps his hand lightly around himself. He strokes himself, twisting his wrist just how he likes, thumbing through the pre-come collected at the head of his cock, hissing in response to Jimin forgetting himself and emitting a quiet curse.
Jimin wants so badly to scoot forward, to brace his hands on Yoongi's thighs and pepper kisses along Yoongi's shaft, he wants to show Yoongi just how good he can be. But Yoongi's intent on him watching, on him seeing how he looks pleasuring himself, and though it's hard, so fucking hard for Jimin to look and not touch, he obediently complies with Yoongi's wishes.
After stroking himself to full, aching hardness, Yoongi beckons Jimin forward, and Jimin's heart soars as Yoongi smiles dazedly down at him, "You waited. Good boy."
Jimin's skin tingles, the hairs on his arms stand to attention, a whine catches in the back of his throat as he inches closer to Yoongi's deeply flushed cock.
Yoongi grasps the base of his cock, and with his other hand, curls his fingers in amongst Jimin's hair, uses Jimin's strands to inch him forward, to guide him to his cock which he takes into his mouth with a contented sigh.
Yoongi's head knocks back against the couch, a whoosh of air leaving his lungs as he feels Jimin swirl his tongue around his cock's head, dipping into the slit there before turning his attention to Yoongi's thick girth. He throbs within Jimin's wet heat, and it feels so good, it feels amazing to be filled with Yoongi, to hear his quiet noises that are less needy than Jimin's, more gravelly.
"That's it," Yoongi encourages as Jimin begins to bob shallowly, "Just like that. Fuck, you're good."
He is. He's so so good.
"Look at you," Yoongi mewls, "With your pretty lips stretched around my cock. Even now, you're fucking beautiful."
He pops off of Yoongi's cock with a whine, and his hand replaces his mouth's movements as he fixes Yoongi a stare.
In Yoongi's eyes, all Jimin can see is intense, maddening arousal.
It's difficult, watching and hearing Yoongi become succumbed to these feelings, and it's even more difficult to ignore the sensation of the butterflies fluttering within his own stomach, knocking against his ribcage with each and every one of Yoongi's words that are laced with praise, that are spilling with adoration for Jimin and Jimin only.
When Yoongi orders Jimin to touch himself, Jimin's more than happy to hastily unzip himself, and it's almost painful, as he wraps his fist around his cock, his body jerking as the friction he provides himself with is almost too much for his sensitive length. Yoongi leans forward to watch, to indulge himself in the sight of Jimin stroking himself off vigorously, chasing after the pleasure that he's kept at bay for far too long.
"Hyung," Jimin whimpers as he fists himself, pressing his forehead against Yoongi's knee, squeezing his eyes shut. Yoongi knows what he's asking of him, knows perfectly well why Jimin's searching his eyes, silently begging, silently waiting for the next command, the next order.
"Shh," Yoongi hushes him, soothes him, his own voice sounding strained as he jerks himself off in long, languid strokes. "You're such a good boy, Jimin. You've been so g-good for me tonight," his filter has crashed, his words are spilling forth, there's no going back after this, nothing will redeem him after tonight's crude, spoken words, "Let me come in your mouth, baby."
Jimin stands, stumbles, falls next to Yoongi onto the couch, scrambles for a comfortable position as he elevates his mouth over Yoongi's cock in wait.
It's a beautiful sound, to hear Yoongi cry out euphorically as white spots of light burst behind his eyelids, and it's a beautiful experience to have Yoongi's hand force Jimin's mouth down onto his cock, fucking into his wet heat shallowly, spilling himself down Jimin's throat, repeating Jimin's name like a mantra, like he never wants to forget it.
Jimin comes whilst his mouth's still wrapped around Yoongi's cock, his hand moving erratically along himself when white spurts of come spill onto Yoongi's thigh, the couch. The vibrations of his cries reverberate throughout Yoongi's entire body, furthering his climax, his moans of pleasure.
Yoongi tucks himself back into his trousers when the cloudiness in his mind has subsided, and Jimin does the same, and it's all silent. There's no words laden with want like there previously was, there's no soft encouragements from Yoongi or needy replies from Jimin, and initially, it makes Jimin panic.
Has he ruined what they had? Has he broken boundaries that should never have been broken? Has his little quirk weirded Yoongi out?
His thoughts are soon dispelled by Yoongi slinging an arm around Jimin's shoulders, hugging him closer to him, and it's a relief, to know that Yoongi isn't spooked, that he isn't put off after what has just transpired. "All of these times when people have been complimenting you," Yoongi shakes his head fondly, grinning when Jimin lightly slaps his thigh, "I would've never thought much of it before tonight."
Jimin pouts, "I like the validation. That's all."
Yoongi's grin still hasn't fallen, and he presses a small kiss to Jimin's cheek.
Then Yoongi coughs, shifts awkwardly before speaking lower, like he's revealing a secret, "You're my good boy. You know that, right?" he seeks confirmation, and Jimin snuggles in closer against Yoongi, seeking the protective, comforting warmth of his body, of his whole entire being.
A blush pervades Jimin's cheeks as he nods, confirming, "I'm your good boy."