Chapter Text
A never ending nightmare.
It’s exactly what Jimin thought his life would be until his very last breath. Hell, he didn’t even believe he’d survive. Didn’t believe he’d escape the terror he’d been trapped in. He was so certain he’d die in that monster’s hands. On his way back to Seoul, a few days ago, he accepted it.
He accepted that this lifetime was over—that Park Jimin was no longer.
And yet... he’s breathing. He’s alive. Although sometimes it doesn’t feel like it—he’s alive. He wasn’t the one who escaped, it was all Taehyung’s help.
A savior. It had slipped from Jimin’s muted lips yesterday when he was waiting for Taehyung to come back from his evening shower. He wasn’t heard. Barely heard by his own self. But he talked. It slipped on its own, like his mind had just made that realization.
Savior.
That image sometimes appears in his sleep—the sight of Taehyung’s broad frame, soaked by rain and human blood, dripping relief in his eyes. When he thinks back about it, Jimin feels his heart race in his ribcage, threatening to burst and run away, rabid. A savior. Taehyung saved him.
Safety. Jimin learned the meaning of it, too. He thought he knew what it was about—thought it was having men dressed in black suit following him around everywhere he went without fearing for his life. No. It wasn’t this type of safety. The type that makes him sleepy. That makes him smile. That brings such a fuzzy and warm comfort inside him that he allows himself to be as vulnerable as he can be.
And that’s what he’s been feeling for the last few days. Taehyung has been taking care of Jimin in ways that felt so... natural. It’s never been forced. Never once Taehyung questioned Jimin’s actions or responses, and never once he demanded that Jimin forced himself into something he didn’t want.
Recently, they’ve made progress. Or, at least, Jimin has.
He doesn’t react as strongly when he walks past the threshold of the bathroom, nor does he flinch at the sight of the water at the bottom of the toilet bowl or the sink. It’s better, but not perfect. He still requires Taehyung’s presence, whether it is holding his hand, or feeling his breath fanning against the nape of his neck. It grounds him. It helps him.
The shower hasn’t yet been mentioned to him—he hasn’t been able to take this jump. And Taehyung never forces him to. The wet towels became a routine, and Taehyung always makes sure to ask—
“Is there anywhere you’re feeling uncomfortable?”
And that never fails to steal a small smile from Jimin. It hurts everywhere still—but not when you touch me.
It’s the fifth day already.
Five days spent locked in his penthouse. Or, rather, five days spent safely by Taehyung’s side. The thought makes Jimin’s lips curve into a smile.
The morning light seeps through the blinds, softly bathing the bedroom in warm hues. They’re both comfortably lying under the sheets—something Jimin had to silently make Taehyung understand that it was okay for him to sleep with him, too—and while Jimin wears a plain black oversized pajamas, Taehyung’s wearing Jimin’s own favorite baby pink ones. It’s funny; how Taehyung didn’t even argue last night when Jimin carefully picked the set out of his wardrobe and handed it over to him before he could shower. Obviously, Jimin’s frame is much smaller, and despite the fact that he almost swims in those very same pink pajamas, they fit Taehyung on the tighter side, especially around his broad shoulders.
Jimin’s smile widens. His dreamy gaze is set on Taehyung’s sleeping face, the sight enough to bring him comfort. Carefully as to not wake him, Jimin lifts a hand and brushes the pad of his fingers over Taehyung’s forehead, pushing the strands of hair away from his face. He traces down his cheekbone, his jaw. Counts the moles—on his eyelid, under his lip, on the tip of his nose. Jimin has never paid attention to Taehyung’s beautiful features before. He could be an idol if he wanted to.
Face so effortlessly beautiful that I want to paint it, trace it with my fingers all day long.
Cautiously, Jimin shifts a little closer, until he’s only a breath away from Taehyung’s face. He can feel the warmth of his body against his, not pressed together but touching slightly, and yet Jimin leans in for more. He brings his lips to Taehyung’s forehead, pressing a soft, light kiss there, a silent thank you.
When he pulls back—
He freezes.
Taehyung’s eyes are open. Looking back at him.
Jimin feels his heart leap to his throat as he realizes he cupped the side of Taehyung’s face into his hand to kiss him, the position and proximity too intimate for them to ignore it. And despite the fear, Jimin doesn’t pull back. He watches as Taehyung seemingly forces himself to clear his foggy and drowsy mind, enough to assess the situation and react by taking Jimin’s hand in his, and bring it even closer to kiss his palm.
The blood rushes to Jimin’s face. A vivid red now tainting his cheeks.
“I didn’t hear you wake up, today,” Taehyung rasps, sleepy and hoarse voice sending shivers down Jimin’s spine. He’s probably mentioning all the times Jimin woke up in cold sweats, screaming and crying.
Today, he woke up without feeling that knot cutting off his airflow.
“You’re already getting better,” Taehyung adds, and there’s a hint of relief in his tone. He appears less tense than he’d been these last days he spent worried sick about Jimin. “I’m glad.”
There’s something comforting about watching him take deep and slow breaths while moving Jimin’s hand against his cheek, as if the warmth of his palm against his face is all he needs to relax.
They’ve grown closer. Closer than Jimin ever thought they would. And it’s been so natural that he hadn’t even realized how intimately close they’ve truly grown.
“Today I have a call with the company,” Taehyung starts softly, his eyes closed as if he’s fully absorbing the warmth of Jimin’s palm. “If you want to tell them anything, would you like to write it to me?”
When he opens his eyes, Jimin winces. Unsure. The simple thought of having to go back to his previous life is daunting. It weighs down on him.
“It’s okay,” Taehyung assures when no response comes. “I’ll tell them you’re not ready for anything yet. I’ll tell them. It’s way too soon.”
Jimin presses his lips together into a thin smile.
Thank you.
Taehyung’s eyes snap wide open.
Jimin blinks confusedly.
“What did you say?” Taehyung asks, breathless, and Jimin isn’t sure if it’s the good or the bad kind of panic that’s now written all over Taehyung’s face when he pushes himself up to sit, hand still holding Jimin’s. “Did you talk? Jimin, did you talk?”
Jimin’s heart leaps. Did he speak? Parting his mouth silently this time, he slowly pushes himself up on his forearm.
“Please tell me this wasn’t a hallucination,” Taehyung pleads, voice cracking, like he’s terrified that this moment shatters. Like he’s scared to admit that he imagined it.
Jimin’s eyes shake, jumping from Taehyung’s hopeful gaze to the hand he’s still holding, as if Jimin will disappear the second he lets go.
“Jimin—”
“Thank you,” Jimin repeats, this time louder than before, yet still very quiet. Too quiet. He doesn’t sound like himself anymore—it’s the kind of voice that’s been hidden for far too long to sound like it always has. It’s a little rough, a little painful to let out, too, but... it’s still him.
Taehyung holds his breath. The moment slowly sinks in, and Jimin notices the relief washing over Taehyung’s eyes, bringing in shy tears with it. Tears. Jimin has never seen Taehyung cry before. It’s a little surprising. It makes him smile.
“Don’t cry,” Jimin manages faintly, weakly, and Taehyung chokes on a painful chuckle.
“I can’t believe this. I really thought you—” Taehyung exhales heavily, shaking his head. He lets go of Jimin’s hand to caress his arm instead, giving it a gentle squeeze, careful as to avoid the deep bruises. “I thought you lost your voice.” Forever.
Jimin’s smile grows warm. For a singer, to lose their voice is equal to one’s first death, and it’s evident that Taehyung has been thinking about it. Has been dreading it, more than Jimin has.
Another beat of silence settles over them.
And while Jimin sits up properly, Taehyung softly brushes his fingers through Jimin’s disheveled hair. There’s no rush in it. He takes the time to push it away from Jimin’s eyes, to brush it like he would if he were to make Jimin more presentable, and Jimin hums pleasantly at the softness of it.
It’s odd to think that the simple intimacy of this moment is something that would have felt so foreign before. Maybe even awkward. Misplaced, perhaps. Yet now, everything feels so... natural.
Like they’ve done this, time and time again.
“Shower,” Jimin whispers, to which Taehyung doesn’t immediately react, though his hand stills. Jimin adds, just as quietly, “I want to try.”
It startles Taehyung. “What?”
“Show—”
“I got it, I heard you,” Taehyung assures, breathless. “You just—Are you sure?”
No . Of course not.
However, with Taehyung, nothing has ever felt this safe. Jimin believes that even though the simple thought of feeling the water dribble down his body is terrifying, he wants to believe that it’ll be safe with Taehyung by his side. He might be able to ground himself, to keep himself anchored in the moment rather than fall back into the traumatic events, over and over again.
“Try,” Jimin repeats, like he wants it to be clear. “With you.”
“Of course,” Taehyung breathes out. “Come on, let’s go together.”
Jimin moves almost instantly, afraid that if he would take any longer to move and think, he’ll regret it and back out. He even goes as far as to take his clothes off before they walk through the threshold, discarding them into the basket right away, and standing there as still as he can be when Taehyung turns around.
“O—Okay,” Taehyung breathes out, a little confused, but the surprise on his face soon melts into reassurance when he offers his hand. “Let me help you get in.”
Jimin stares at Taehyung’s hand for a moment, before meeting his gaze. “You?”
“Me?” Taehyung echoes with a confused frown. “I’ll hold your hand like I’ve always—”
“No,” Jimin shakes his head. Fear starts to seep under his skin, but he tries to push it away, chase it away and prevent his mind from being trapped. “Us.”
It doesn’t immediately register in Taehyung’s brain. That is, until Jimin hesitantly reaches for Taehyung’s collar. He closes the distance between them and, with clumsy fingers, opens the first button.
The second.
The third—
“Jimin,” Taehyung softly calls, covering Jimin’s hand with his. “You want me to shower with you?”
Finally. Jimin nods.
“Can you say it?”
Jimin inhales deeply. He slowly snakes his hand out of Taehyung’s hold and keeps opening his top. “Shower with me,” he murmurs weakly, the shirt finally opening to reveal Taehyung’s chest, “please.”
“Alright, come here,” Taehyung cups Jimin’s now bare waist to guide him back to sit on the closed toilet seat so that he can take his clothes off, too. And as much as Jimin wishes he can look anywhere around, he can’t—he has to keep his eyes on Taehyung to prevent his mind from sinking to the bottom of his memories.
Anything’s good to take his mind off those memories.
Anything.
Including gazing up and down at Taehyung’s naked body, lingering a bit under his belly button. Right. Even if it’s not the first time Jimin has been utterly naked in front of Taehyung, the opposite is completely new for them.
And somehow, this makes Jimin nervous.
“Jimin,” Taehyung clears his throat, visibly just as nervous, too. “Come with me. Let’s get over it quickly, alright? It’ll be better for you.”
Jimin doesn’t argue with that. He stands up on his feet, allows Taehyung to enter the tub first before he follows, albeit hesitantly. His eyes close as soon as he feels the cold touch of the porcelain against his skin, immediately clinging to Taehyung, fingers digging into the meat of Taehyung’s arms. “T—Taehyung...”
“I’m here,” Taehyung assures, reaching to cup Jimin’s face into his hands and encourage him to look at him. Jimin does. “I’m not leaving you alone. I’m here, and I’ll be careful. I won’t do anything you don’t want, do you hear me? We’re just going to clean ourselves up, that’s all.”
Jimin’s breathing picks up. “Not—” he starts, bringing his fingers to his neck where the bandage is still very much present. “Not the head.”
“I won’t wet your face,” Taehyung confirms, “or your wound, there.”
Wound. Jimin nervously chews the inside of his cheek. Although he’s felt the lines of that name carved in his throat when Taehyung cleaned and changed the bandage yesterday, Jimin never took a glimpse of it. He doesn’t know what it looks like. Doesn’t know if it’ll ever go away. Taehyung has always taken care of it for him, and as much as it reassures him, it also terrifies him.
What if it never disappears?
“Let’s sit,” Taehyung suggests. “I think it’ll help.”
Jimin nods. He lowers himself into the tub, waiting for Taehyung to sit first before he finds a place between Taehyung’s legs, back facing him. The porcelain might be cold against Jimin’s skin, and he might be fearing the sound of the water, too, and yet—he’s not afraid. Not when he can feel Taehyung’s breath fanning into the nape of his neck. Not when he can feel Taehyung’s body warmth wrapping around him.
Not when he feels a comforting hand caressing his arm, up and down.
“I’m going to turn on the water,” Taehyung warns.
Jimin nods, and instinctively holds his breath. Closes his eyes.
When he starts hearing the water flow, a very slow and soft steam, Jimin’s hands quickly find a way on Taehyung’s thighs. Squeezing to try grounding himself.
“You’re okay,” Taehyung whispers, and Jimin nods. He is. Of course he is.
A wet palm caresses Jimin’s arm, the touch meant to get him used to the feeling, before Taehyung slowly brings the shower head closer. The water barely drips over Jimin, however. Taehyung moves carefully, letting it trickle between his fingers before touching Jimin. His shoulders, his back, his arms.
It’s gentle.
So gentle that it confuses the part of Jimin that’s still trapped back there.
‘I’ll drown you if that’s what makes you speak.’
The tears start to spill from the corners of his eyes. Quiet. Silent. He doesn’t speak a word, lets them flow as Taehyung wets his body, hoping that his shivers and cries aren’t noticed.
“Do you want me to stop?”
Oh. Jimin shakes his head. He doesn’t think that if they stop now, he’ll ever be able to overcome this. “N—No,” he cries, fingers still squeezing Taehyung’s thighs, nails marking his skin with how tight he’s holding onto him, “keep touching me.”
And he does. Taehyung continues, taking the soap bar next and rubbing it between his palms before he lathers it over Jimin’s shoulders, down. Softly. Slowly. And Jimin could try to take some of it in his hands too, do it himself, but he’s melting into the touches, relaxing under the careful ministrations. He feels it—feels how scared Taehyung is to hurt him, as if he believes he could break Jimin at any moment.
“Still okay?”
Taehyung’s hands are rubbing Jimin’s inner thighs now. With a nod, Jimin hums, leaning further back to press his back against Taehyung’s chest, until—
“Sorry,” Taehyung immediately apologizes the very second Jimin’s eyes snap open, letting his head dip in shame, face hidden into the crook of Jimin’s neck. “I didn’t mean to,” he adds, hands now still where they rest over Jimin’s knees, “do you—do you want to change positions?”
Jimin blinks. The fear seems to have been replaced by... curiosity.
Arousal.
“You’re hard,” Jimin whispers in that same weak, hoarse voice, and it steals a breathless laugh from Taehyung.
“I’m so relieved you can speak again, but I didn’t need to hear that.”
Jimin bites down on a shy smile. He reaches for Taehyung’s hand, guiding it away from his knee and back to his inner thigh.
“Jimin—”
“Me too,” Jimin breathes out, guiding Taehyung’s hand closer until it brushes against his length. Half-hard. He shivers at the touch, looking up when Taehyung lifts his head and gazes between Jimin’s legs. “You can... touch me.”
“Jimin, I—”
“Please.”
There’s want swimming in Taehyung’s hazy eyes, but it blends with worry. The fear of crossing a line.
The line Jimin wishes to erase with his own bare hands.
He keeps his hand over Taehyung’s, watching as Taehyung wraps his fingers around him, and even the touch is so gentle that it makes Jimin breathe out a sigh of relief. The worries start to melt off his mind, his body relaxing into Taehyung’s, his head resting against Taehyung’s shoulder.
They don’t speak another word. It’s not like they need to; the silence speaks for them. Their heavy breaths. Jimin’s quiet whimpers.
Taehyung’s hand works slow around him, the soap helping with the wet slides. It’s almost shy at first, the pressure barely there, but then he starts sliding his thumb over the head, over the slit, making Jimin’s hips stutter and roll into his fist.
The pleasure coils up in the pit of Jimin’s stomach, pushing the remnants of fear away, memories replaced by the warmth of Taehyung’s body all over him. His mouth parts in quiet gasps, one hand finding its way to Taehyung’s hair while his other hand keeps himself steady where it presses on Taehyung’s thigh.
“You can let go,” Taehyung whispers into Jimin’s ear, low and raspy, the kind that’s filled with desire, like he’s barely holding it in. It makes Jimin’s chest swell with satisfaction to realize that his broken and bruised body is still desirable.
That Taehyung finds him desirable.
With a stuttered breath, Jimin rolls his hips with little more intent as Taehyung sets a faster pace to help him reach his climax, thumb playing with the slit every time his hand slides up. He presses his nose against Jimin’s temple, his breath as heavy and loud as Jimin’s, as if the sight alone is enough to push him to the edge, too.
And Jimin doesn’t need much more to come with a silent cry, his body racked by the tremors and aftershocks, pleasure shooting down to his legs, down to his curled toes. While Taehyung keeps stroking him through his orgasm, much more slowly and carefully, his other hand caresses Jimin’s leg, easing him through it.
“T—Tae,” Jimin whimpers, breathless, eyes closed and brows furrowed with the slight oversensitivity that courses through him. His mind is high up there, foggy and hazy, and he doesn’t even hear himself beg, “Call me—” yours.
Call me yours.
Taehyung’s hand stills around him.
A beat of silence.
Jimin feels it at the back of his throat—a sob, threatening to escape if he doesn’t hear it.
‘Who’s your owner, pretty doll?’
“No, no. Please,” Jimin cries, heavy and hot tears spilling, and he’s spiraling back into the past again. He doesn’t even feel Taehyung’s arms wrap around him, embracing him tight from behind, caressing his chest in soothing rubs. “I’m not—not his, not his, not his—!”
“Jimin, calm down,” Taehyung urges calmly as he presses Jimin’s legs together with his own, trapping them there, keeping him in a position that would allow Jimin to feel that comforting and warm pressure all around him. “It’s me. It’s just me. Kim Taehyung.”
Jimin nods. Nods, nods and nods again. His chest spasms with the barely contained sobs he keeps swallowing, that voice still thumping painfully loud at the back of his head. He needs to get it out. He needs Taehyung to tell him Jimin is his. Not—
“You’re no one’s, Jimin,” Taehyung tries softly, though his voice is shaking, too. “You’re your own person. Nobody owns you. Do you hear me?”
No. No, he doesn’t.
Because that’s not true.
That’s not what the name carved into his skin says.
That’s not what the voices in his head scream.
“I’m yours,” Jimin keeps crying, his ribcage tight around his lungs. He wants to rip it open to be able to breathe. It hurts. “Please, please, tell me—tell me I’m yours.”
It takes another moment for Taehyung to speak. As though he’s unsure.
As though he refuses to admit something that isn’t true. And the simple thought of it kills Jimin.
“You can be mine,” he finally murmurs, nose pressed into Jimin’s wet cheek, rocking him back and forth every so faintly.
It works. Albeit agonizingly slowly. It calms Jimin down a little. “Yours,” Jimin breathes out, tears and snot mixing and rolling down his lips, making him slur the word. He wants the confirmation. He wants to hear it again. From Taehyung’s mouth—and no one else’s.
A hum. A heavy exhale. And finally,
“Mine.”
...
“You did what, now?”
Taehyung sighs as he adjusts the phone against his ear, looking over at where Jimin is now sitting on the couch of the living room watching over his performances, wrapped in a warm blanket. “Listen, can you just answer my question first? Please?” Taehyung insists a little desperately, voice quiet, walking further back into the corridors as to not be heard.
“What were you even asking me? I lost track of the conversation the minute you told me you touched him,” Jeongguk blurts out without any filter, causing Taehyung to choke on his own saliva.
“Don’t say it like that, you make it sound like I took advantage of him!”
“Well, didn’t you say he couldn’t speak?”
“He did—” Taehyung sighs heavily. “He has. This morning, he... he talked to me. And I didn’t want to cross this line, Jeongguk-ah, I—” fucked up, he means to say, yet he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t regret it. And that’s what’s fucking with his mind right now.
When did things suddenly change between them?
“So, shoot me that question again.”
“Jeongguk—”
“Come on,” Jeongguk repeats. “You and I know the answer, anyway.”
Taehyung closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. He pauses for a moment, pondering over taking his words back and switching the topic instead, before he asks again, more quietly this time, “How can you know you’ve fallen for someone?”
Jeongguk huffs into the phone. The kind that tells Taehyung he’s grinning like an idiot. “It’s all kind of things. The little things you notice on them that you don’t even care about in others—like the way they look at you. The way they smile. The way they laugh. It’s the way you can’t sit down and accept that they’re hurting in any shape or form—you want to take it all away. The pain, the sadness. You’re ready to set your own self on fire for them, because that would mean you’d both be together, and he won’t ever have to be alone through it.”
“You’re being overly dramatic,” Taehyung says, though his heart tightens. He can’t deny it, he’s felt the exact same thing for Jimin.
“Am I? I’ve never seen you go to such extents for anyone as you did when Jimin went missing.”
“I’d have done the same thing for you,” Taehyung argues.
“No. Not like that,” Jeongguk refutes. “You wouldn’t have reacted like this. I already went through tons of shitty situations—and no matter how close to death I was every time, you always dealt with the situation with much more calmness. You went bonkers this time, hyung, I’m not kidding,” he laughs, though it comes out a little pained. “It really looked like a part of you was ripped to shreds. You lost yourself a couple of times. I couldn’t even recognize you.”
Taehyung breathes out a baffled laugh. He can’t believe this. All this time, he never thought he’d ever believe in the type of love everyone boasts about. He never thought he’d ever find someone that would prove him that love does exist. It sounds ridiculous. It does. And yet—he can’t deny that what he’s feeling for Jimin is something stronger than what he’d ever felt for anyone else.
“I don’t know what to do,” he admits, running his fingers through his hair. “He’s not— fuck, he’s not the person he was before that fucker took him. It’s still him but not... healed. He’s vulnerable and sensitive, and I’m—”
“—terrified that you’re, in fact, taking advantage of that vulnerability he’s showing you?”
Talk about reading through one’s mind. “Yeah,” Taehyung admits. It’s not so much about doing anything that Jimin doesn’t want now. It’s rather about the possibility that Jimin is trapped in a vulnerable state of mind that makes him want to do everything that Taehyung wants. A way to protect himself from any more damage.
Taehyung fears that Jimin is living a reality that’s distorted by his own unconscious mind.
“I can’t say anything about that,” Jeongguk admits. “He’s never left his home since you found him. He’s only ever seen and talked to you.”
Taehyung presses his lips together. That’s exactly what he fears—that he’s forcing Jimin to think that he only needs Taehyung in his life.
He fears he’s doing the exact same thing that animal did to him.
“I had a call with the company earlier,” Taehyung says faintly. “They suggested that I book a trip for him, far from Seoul.”
“What? That’s...”
“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out like he already knows what Jeongguk was about to say. “They had a few destinations but I refused them all. I know they want him to come back to the promotion of his album, whether he’s fully recovered or not, and they think a trip is what will ‘wake him up.’ It pissed me off.”
Jeongguk snorts. “Yeah, no wonder. ‘can’t say I’m not surprised, though, they’ve been calling Namjoon at least twenty times a day because they can’t really reach you as much. They’re scared Jimin will leave them altogether.”
“And that’s not a decision they can make. Only Jimin can choose what to do with his career.”
“Sure, tell that to the money hungry companies out there. Haven’t they suspended your contract anyway?”
“Don’t talk to me about that,” Taehyung grunts. “I think the press held by Jang Jisung the other day scared them.”
“Right. That old man didn’t keep his thoughts to himself. I honestly thought he was going to hide what Junwoo did but in the end he really admitted that his grandson was a crazy ass criminal that needed to purge years of sentence behind bars.”
Taehyung hums. It’s not difficult to piece things together. Although no name was mentioned, the media knew to link back Junwoo’s crime to Jimin’s disappearance, especially now that the articles about Jimin’s first sponsor are resurfacing. It’s no wonder that the company is now under scrutiny for neglecting Jimin’s security, which now pressures them to give tangible proof that Jimin is currently undergoing medical and professional help.
“What are you gonna do now, though?”
Walking back toward the living room to make sure Jimin is still in the same spot, Taehyung speaks quietly. “We’re still going on a trip, I think. Not one that the company suggested, but one that’ll make him happy.”
“You think he’s gonna want to leave?”
“I don’t know,” Taehyung says honestly. “I have to find a place far enough for that bastard to not find us, and yet close enough to avoid long hours-drive.”
“Sounds good. Maybe it’ll really help him. Who knows?”
“Who knows,” Taehyung parrots, a smile curving his lips the moment Jimin perks up from the couch and mouths a ‘Come here, please.’ “I’ll let you know. Take care and no fights tonight at the Viper, alright?”
“Who do you think I am?” Jeongguk laughs before bidding goodbye and hanging up.
“Namjoon?” Jimin tries when Taehyung comes back to sit next to him, immediately settling closer until he’s leaning over into Taehyung, seeking that warmth.
“No, it was Jeongguk,” Taehyung smiles, brushing through Jimin’s hair a bit before he reaches for the tablet in Jimin’s hand. “What were you watching?”
“Concerts.” More specifically his very last one, held a few months ago in Seoul. But it’s not like Jimin sounds interested in talking about it. Instead, he makes himself even smaller into Taehyung’s arms, absent-mindedly brushing his fingers over Taehyung’s knuckles and holding his hand. As if he’d been waiting for exactly that—a touch that would ground him.
“Jimin,” Taehyung calls softly.
“Mh?” Jimin hums, resting his head against Taehyung’s chest.
“What do you think about... going out?”
The question is vague. He’s testing it, first. Doesn’t want to startle Jimin if he doesn’t feel ready, but even the simple mention of leaving the house seems to make Jimin tense, his fingers halting their gentle tracing over Taehyung’s hand. “Where?” he asks back quietly, like he’s unsure if he wants to know the answer.
“I’m not sure,” Taehyung admits. His thumb brushes over Jimin’s hand soothingly. “It could be anywhere. Do you want to choose? We can go somewhere calm. I’ll drive us there. If you want to go with someone els—”
“With you,” Jimin cuts him off breathlessly. “I only want to go with you.”
“Okay.” It’s not a surprise. The few times Taehyung mentioned having any of Jimin’s friends visiting him had always caused panic, and maybe it’s too early to encourage Jimin to see more people now.
Taehyung settles the tablet on his lap to search through the options they can have, allowing Jimin to silently play with his hand, and then his sleeve.
“I don’t want to walk,” Jimin murmurs.
Taehyung hums. “Then we won’t. What about a few days nearby? Here. A place with a nice view of the city, so we don’t have to leave if you don’t want to.”
Jimin shifts a bit to glance at the screen where Taehyung picked a two-stories villa with a private pool. A hint of discomfort flickers across his face, and he’s quick to press his cheek back into Taehyung’s shirt, going back to nervously playing with his fingers. “We don’t need... that much space.”
“We don’t,” Taehyung agrees easily.
They scrolled together quietly for a few more minutes. Though Jimin remains hesitant about booking a place with a pool, he eventually accepts to settle on a cozy hotel apartment, tucked a little less than a two-hour drive away.
It sounds like the best option they have.
“We don’t need to use it,” Taehyung assures as soon as the tablet is discarded so that Jimin can press himself closer to him, hiding his face into Taehyung’s chest. “The pool. We don’t need to use it. But in case you feel read—”
“I know,” Jimin murmurs, like he can read Taehyung’s mind and find the reason for that choice—to help him overcome his fear of water. His fear of drowning. “Thank you.”
A sigh of relief. Taehyung softly pulls Jimin onto his lap to hug him closer, a little tighter. Jimin’s arms find their way around Taehyung, his head finding a place in the crook of Taehyung’s neck, surrendering fully and making a home of Taehyung’s arms. The comfort and safety that comes from their embrace ease the tension on Taehyung’s shoulders.
Makes him believe that nothing and no one can ever break what they've built together.
They’re safe. They are. As long as they’ll have each other.
...
Jimin hadn’t foreseen just how much effort he’d have to put into keeping his mind focused on Taehyung and Taehyung only, to not let it spiral into the past.
It’s only been two weeks since he’s been back home, with no one but Taehyung by his side, and it’s been helping him. There’s been progress. He’s gone from being completely mute and paralyzed by fear to talking . He’s gone from being absolutely terrified by the sight of water to tolerating it.
It’s huge. It’s the kind of progress that Jimin wouldn’t have made on his own. Nor with anyone else.
But it wasn’t enough for him to avoid a violent panic attack on the way to the parking lot, or another as they arrived in the hotel. Yet, Taehyung’s been just as patient.
He remained by Jimin’s side, took care of him all the same—pulled him into his arms, rocked him in gentle motions that would turn into slow dancing until Jimin’s anxious breaths turned into breathless laughter and whispered thank you’s.
They settle in easily for their first night.
Room service brings their first dinner that they enjoy with a movie they barely pay any attention to. Jimin’s pick, of course, The Notebook. He’d seen it dozens of times, he knows it by heart by now, so he has a good excuse not to be paying attention. And, instead, he lets attention drift back to where he traces circles around and along Taehyung’s knuckles, sometimes intertwining their fingers to feel the warmth and squeeze Taehyung’s hand. And Taehyung lets him.
They fall into a gentle rhythm that didn’t require leaving the room to visit the city—Jimin wasn’t ready, and Taehyung never forced him to.
Instead, they enjoyed spending the time inside. With movies, with food, with quiet and lighthearted conversations at night about their likes and dislikes. About each other.
The first few days pass in a gentle blur.
The shower becomes their evening routine. Something that Jimin once feared became something he’d look forward to, every day.
The hotel room has a wide shower stall—big enough for both to move and stand without being crowded into each other’s spaces, although they do mostly stick their bodies together—and every evening, Taehyung guides Jimin in with the same reassuring steadiness, washing away the sharp edges of his fears. Softening them. Sometimes, they don’t speak a word. Other times, Jimin would be the first to talk. The first to flick water towards Taehyung’s face, only for them to break into laughter, and fall into a playful game of who’s gonna wash up first.
It’s easy.
Easy to feel like he’s picking up the pieces of himself again. Or, at least, pretend that he’s mending his broken self with Taehyung’s help.
“What do you want to eat tonight? I saw they have a great—Jimin? Are you alright?” Taehyung comes to a halt when he walks out of the bathroom, eyes on Jimin who perks up from where he’s lying on the bed. Hastily, Jimin closes the tabs he has opened on the tablet in his hands, pushing it aside and wiping the tears that have gathered at the corners of his eyes.
“I’m fine,” Jimin smiles, pushing himself up when Taehyung climbs on the bed to join him. “I was just looking at—articles.”
“Hey,” Taehyung cups Jimin’s face into his hands, thumbs softly sliding over Jimin’s closed lids. “Why would you? I told you that the media is handled by your publicists and the company, didn’t I?”
Jimin averts his eyes. That point didn’t matter—not when most articles attached to his name are about the possibility that Taehyung is behind Jimin’s disappearance. He hadn’t seen it before. Hadn’t realized that even pictures of Taehyung circulated and were used as proof that he’d done horrible things to him.
The thought alone twists Jimin’s guts.
There isn’t one article about that criminal. Nothing mentioning him. All the attention seems to be on Taehyung, and Jimin can’t accept it. Not when he’s the reason Jimin’s is still alive.
“Hey, you’re not falling into another panic attack, are you?”
Jimin’s eyes flicker back to Taehyung’s worried ones, before he breathes out a faint chuckle, leaning into the warmth of Taehyung’s hands against his cheeks. “No. I’m fine. And... not hungry.”
“I figured,” Taehyung hums. “Maybe we can do something in the meantime?”
Jimin closes his eyes, enjoying the soft caresses of Taehyung’s thumbs on his face. “I don’t want to leave the room.”
“I know, I’m not asking you to. But... what about the pool?”
Jimin sucks in a sharp breath. He opens his eyes to look at Taehyung, his heart starting to race inside his ribcage, panic settling in. Right. He’d almost forgotten about it. It’s not like the pool is hidden—the wall-sized window of their room opens directly to the patio that includes their private pool. It’s not a deep one, they could still stand with their heads above the surface, from what Taehyung told him, but it doesn’t alter the fact that it’s a large body of water.
Even if Taehyung will never let him, Jimin could drown in it.
He could die in it.
“Hey, Jimin, stay with me,” Taehyung whispers when he senses the panic growing on Jimin’s face, pressing their foreheads together to try and ground him. “It can be just five minutes. I can be inside, and you can sit on the edge with just your feet in. How does that sound?”
Jimin breathes in shakily. “Okay.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“Okay,” Jimin repeats, a little louder. “Just... sitting. With you there.”
“I’m not leaving you for one second.”
I know.
I know you won’t.
Jimin nods. He lets the soft caresses through his hair calm him down before they move to change into swimming trunks Taehyung had apparently brought, just in case.
It’s a little chilly when they walk into the patio, the dark veil of the night above them barely allowing them to see a star or two, although Jimin’s attention remains on the hand Taehyung is holding all the way to the pool. Tight and soft and warm.
“You can close your eyes. Come here,” Taehyung encourages as he guides Jimin to sit on the edge of the pool, careful as to not startle him. Jimin keeps his eyes closed through it, tightening the towel around his shaky frame when the tip of his toes touch the slightly cold surface. “You’re okay. It’s just your feet. You can lower them.”
So Jimin does.
It’s a little cold at first, makes him gasp a bit, but it’s not terrible. At least not now that his eyelids remain closed shut, too scared of opening to a large body of water and losing his balance.
“I’m going in. Wait here for me.”
With another nod, Jimin waits. He takes a deep breath when he can’t feel the comforting weight of Taehyung’s hands on his shoulders, hearing Taehyung’s rapid footsteps before the sound of the water splashing around as he enters the pool.
Nervously, Jimin curls his toes, slightly moving his feet around in the water until he feels Taehyung’s fingers gently wrap around his ankles. He gasps, eyes snapping open and darting to Taehyung who’s now settling between his legs, a warm smile playing on his lips. “You’re okay?”
Jimin’s heart thumps in his eardrums. He doesn’t think he’s okay. But it’s not for the fear of being pulled down and drowned, it’s... something else. “I think so,” he breathes out, chewing on his bottom lip when he feels Taehyung’s hands travel lightly along his bare calves.
“Good.” Maybe it’s Jimin’s imagination, but he swears he hears Taehyung’s voice drop so much lower than it ever has. It causes him to shiver a bit as Taehyung’s thumbs trace small circles as they work their way up to Jimin’s knees. “We can stay like that for a little more. If you don’t feel good, we’ll leave. And if you want to try more, I’m here. I’m not leaving you.”
Jimin swallows thickly. Gives another shy nod.
He tightens the grip he has around the towel, hiding half of his face into it but peeking over. His hazy eyes linger over Taehyung’s face, trace each detail—his moles, his kind and sharp eyes, his double eyelid. He watches as the droplets cling to Taehyung’s skin, trace down his neck, get trapped on his collarbones. His hair is damp, too, and Jimin guesses he dipped his head underwater before coming to him—it sticks to his temples, runs haphazardly over his forehead too, and Jimin can’t help but reach out to brush them away.
Taehyung’s smile widens, his eyes sparkling, the blue and purple lights of the patio caressing his skin.
He looks beautiful beyond words.
“You don’t have to go any further if you don’t want to,” Taehyung softly reminds him when Jimin lets the towel drop from his shoulders, very slowly pushing himself closer to the edge. “We can do this any other time.”
Jimin doesn’t think he’d have it in him to do it another time if he doesn’t do it now. Clasping his hands on the edge of the pool, not once taking his eyes off Taehyung, Jimin asks in a daring breath, “Can you lower me?”
Taehyung’s brows raise in surprise, hands immediately finding their way up to Jimin’s waist to support him. “Are you sure?”
No. “Yes.”
With a nod, Taehyung helps Jimin off the edge, very carefully lowering him. Jimin’s hands instantly move to Taehyung’s shoulders, gripping them a little too hard as he feels the cold water lap higher up his legs, forcing his eyes to remain on Taehyung to ground himself and not fall into panic.
“You’re okay,” Taehyung whispers the moment Jimin gasps and loops his arms around Taehyung’s neck for safety.
It’s only half-way there, the water reaching his waist, but it’s already too much. He should have known. He shouldn’t have tried just because—
“Jimin, look at me. Look at me,” Taehyung insists, his hands still holding Jimin’s waist. “Open your eyes. Look at me.”
It takes a moment for Jimin to swallow down the sobs that get caught in the back of his throat. He inhales shakily, opening his eyes to meet Taehyung’s soft ones. “I’m okay,” Jimin lies, exhaling heavily, “keep lowering me. Don’t—don’t let go.”
“I won’t.”
With one last surge of courage, Jimin lets himself be lowered all the way until his feet find the bottom of the pool, and for a split second, he holds his breath in fear. It’s instinctive. Like his body has learned to perfect this, time and time again.
He clings to Taehyung with everything he has, gasping for air like he would if he were resurfacing after minutes of drowning, and Taehyung is quick to pull him tightly close against him until there’s no remnant of space between their bodies.
“You did it,” Taehyung breathes out into Jimin’s ear, soothingly rubbing his back. Not letting go. Never letting go. “You’re in, with me. You did it.”
Jimin muffles his cries into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, body still trembling in fear. He knows he won’t be pushed down, he knows, and yet his mind screams at him to run away. To escape. To call for help.
“Jimin, listen to me. You have to let it go, do you understand? You’re with me, now. Nothing’s going to happen. I won’t let you slip. I’ll catch you, if you do. You’re safe with me. Do you hear me?” Taehyung tries, over and over again, and Jimin doesn’t realize Taehyung’s been slowly moving them around the pool before he manages to open his glossy eyes.
They’re in the center of the pool.
They’ve moved that far without Jimin even noticing. And nothing happened.
He didn’t drown. He didn’t die.
He’s safe.
“Look at me. Look at me, not the water,” Taehyung urges, cupping the side of Jimin’s face.
Jimin’s gaze locks with Taehyung’s for a moment before he leans forward to bump his forehead against his, the impact stealing a faint chuckle from Taehyung, until they fall into a comforting silence.
Jimin’s cries slowly fade, melting into the gentle touches and soothing caresses on his waist, his breath finally slowing.
It takes more time than he thinks.
He feels Taehyung guide him a little further, then a little closer again. Towards the edge, away from it.
Jimin lets him, feeling his own heart calm its erratic course in his throat.
“Taehyung—”
“Mh?”
“Stop,” he murmurs breathlessly, and Taehyung immediately stills. His hands are securely holding Jimin’s waist, still rubbing soothing circles there, never stopping. Jimin brings his hands to Taehyung’s cheeks, cupping them, finally feeling safe enough to not cling to him like a lifeline. It seems that the thought has Taehyung smiling. That beautiful, beautiful smile.
Jimin swallows at the silence that settles over them. His eyes linger over the soft curve of Taehyung’s lips, over the tiny mole on it. His gaze travels up to the mole at the tip of his nose, the one beneath his eye. He’s retracing every part of Taehyung’s face like he’s never seen it before. Like he’s photographing it, printing it in his mind, framing it forever.
Time slows.
The water softly lapping around them fades into silence, too.
Jimin’s thumb caresses Taehyung’s cheek. Slides over his eyelid. Slides down to his lips.
Taehyung lets him. Looks between Jimin’s eyes and his lips—and Jimin does just the same.
Another beat of silence.
A shiver.
A stuttered breath shared between them.
Jimin leans in without another thought, every ounce of fear melting into something he can’t quite name yet as his lips find Taehyung’s, a touch so gentle yet burning with so much desperation that it hurts.
Taehyung’s lips are warm, so impossibly warm, and Jimin clings to them as if he’s terrified of losing this moment if he doesn’t hold on tight—until he feels him press back into him, kiss him with much more fervor than Jimin had first intended to. Taehyung’s hand rises to cradle the nape of Jimin’s neck, pulling him impossibly closer against him.
It might be their first, but it feels like it’s their last time. They’re falling so easily into the kiss, so deeply, so desperately, that they start gasping into each other’s mouths, desperate to get more, to take more, to feel more.
And Taehyung— god, Taehyung tastes like sweet cherry balm. Like home. Warm and soft. Everything Jimin didn’t even know he’d been craving.
Jimin's fingers hold on to Taehyung's face, gasping against his lips when he's suddenly lifted off his feet and guided back against the edge of the pool, trapped between that edge and Taehyung, feeling his heart race against Taehyung's chest. Loud and erratic.
“Kiss me,” Jimin gasps as soon as Taehyung's lips part with his in a wet smack, chasing after them and fearing that it'll be over forever if he doesn’t.
“Out of the pool,” Taehyung says, though he makes no effort to pull away when Jimin's mouth finds his again, tongue slipping inside, tasting him, craving more. “Back to the room.”
Jimin’s mind grows hazy, slipping away so easily. He gives himself fully to Taehyung, letting him guide them out of the pool, scoop him up from under his thighs, and cover him with the towel he left back.
“You’re gonna get sick,” Taehyung breathes out against Jimin’s lips when the towel falls from Jimin’s bare shoulders before he can even walk back inside the room, but Jimin doesn’t care. He doesn’t even mind the way the cold air bites his skin and makes his entire body shiver.
He’ll get sick—then so be it.
He’s not about to let go of Taehyung, not now, not ever.
Jimin doesn’t realize they’re back inside before his feet touch the floor again, the warmth of the room allowing him to breathe again, although he barely does with how desperately he tries to capture Taehyung’s lips, to flick his tongue inside, to get more and more of him.
“Off,” Jimin whimpers when Taehyung pulls their hips flush together, the wet fabric uncomfortable between them. “Off,” he repeats. He gasps for air as their lips part with a thin string of saliva, while Taehyung hurries to take his swim trunks off of him, helping Jimin out of his own.
They’re drenched. They’ll soak the sheets, and it’ll be uncomfortable—Jimin knows it. He does. But he doesn’t allow Taehyung to finish the sentence he starts with a “We need to show—” and instead, falls back into the bed, pulling Taehyung down with him.
He loops his arms around Taehyung’s neck, pulling him closer, and gasping in surprise when he’s suddenly pushed higher up on the bed so that his head rests on the cushion underneath.
“Jimin,” Taehyung rasps, and it’s so incredibly low that it causes Jimin to jerk in response, rolling his hips into Taehyung’s when he settles between his legs, bodies flushed together. “Jimin, Jimin, Jimin.”
Urgently, Jimin runs a hand through Taehyung’s hair, gripping it as he tilts his head to capture his lips wetly, desperately, while he wraps his legs around Taehyung’s waist, the heels pressing on his lower back to pull him even closer. The water dribbling down their skin helps smooth the wet slides as they rock into each other, so hard and burning hot.
Taehyung’s hands are everywhere on Jimin—sliding down his sides, caressing his waist, running up and down his thighs. And the touches burn. They burn so good.
“I want you,” Jimin admits when their foreheads bump for them to breathe in each other’s air, loud and ragged as if they’ve pumped all the air out of their lungs. Jimin keeps rolling his hips with more and more intent, searching for more friction, loving the way he can feel Taehyung slide against his own cock, against his belly. “I want you, please.”
Taehyung cups Jimin’s cheek, pulling back just enough to look into his eyes, desire pouring out of his own. Despite the dimly lit room, Jimin notices how flushed Taehyung’s face is, the sweat and pool water mixing, drops of it falling onto Jimin’s cheeks. “I don’t have l—”
“In my bag,” Jimin cuts off breathlessly, guessing the rest of Taehyung’s sentence. “In my bag, outside pocket.”
Though he looks confused, Taehyung doesn’t wait. He pushes himself off the bed, nearly stumbling with how fast he moves to get the lube from Jimin’s bag before he climbs back on the bed, back between Jimin’s legs. “You carry this with you?”
Jimin chews the inside of his cheek, face flushed. “I’ve been thinking about it since...” you know.
“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out. “Me too.”
Chills spread over Jimin’s body at the confession, something deep and burning hot coiling up in the pit of his stomach. He brings his hands back to Taehyung’s chest, missing that warmth against him already, and he watches as Taehyung uncaps the bottle and squeezes an unnecessary amount all over his hand, all over Jimin’s crotch. It’s cold to the touch. It steals a few breathless whimpers from Jimin, as it’s carefully smeared all over his inner thighs, over his length, and between his cheeks. Taehyung’s hands are warm and so, so gentle on him that Jimin can’t help the tears spilling from the corners of his eyes.
“Why the tears?” Taehyung whispers against Jimin’s lips when he leans down to kiss him, wet and slow this time, while his fingers slide between Jimin’s cheeks to coat his rim.
‘Because you’re the first to treat me so gently.’
‘Because you make me feel safe.’
‘Because I love you.’
“I’m happy,” Jimin says instead, though his shaky voice sounds a bit too overwhelmed to be happy. But he isn’t lying—he’s over the moon. He’s never felt this desired, loved, cherished. “I’m—” his jaw falls into a silent moan when Taehyung’s finger tentatively pushes inside him, and the slide is... easy. It sinks deep, up to his knuckle, and it makes Taehyung gasp in surprise.
“When did you—?” finger yourself?
Warmth bursts in Jimin’s chest, shyness taking over. “E—Earlier,” he admits, rolling his hips to encourage Taehyung to move inside, which he does slowly. “When I told you I wanted to try showering on my own.”
“I could have helped you.”
Jimin clenches around Taehyung’s fingers. He gasps. His heart is thumping erratically in his throat, rendering him dizzy, his hands moving to grip Taehyung’s arms in an attempt to ground himself. “No,” he sighs, eyes screwing shut at the way Taehyung’s finger presses against his walls to try slipping another alongside the first.
It’s not that the idea of Taehyung helping him clean himself thoroughly embarrasses him, after all he’s been the one cleaning every part of Jimin since the beginning, but this—this is different.
“You need more than this,” Taehyung breathes into Jimin’s mouth, pushing a second digit past Jimin’s tight rim, and slightly stretching them apart to show what he means. It’s tight. “Let me take care of you.”
Jimin whines when Taehyung’s lips leave his to slide along Jimin’s jaw, down to his neck. The bandage is still there, a bit wet, but Taehyung wets it even more as he mouths it, spit dribbling down. It doesn’t hurt Jimin anymore, it’s started to heal and the wounds closed up for the most part, but he can’t help the sob that escapes him. His hands fly to Taehyung’s hair, gripping tightly as he feels Taehyung’s fingers slowly pump in and out of him while his neck is being kissed, licked, mouthed at.
Claimed.
As if Taehyung’s blurring the name cut into Jimin’s skin, erasing it and replacing it with his own. It’s everything Jimin has ever wanted. Replace that name with Taehyung’s.
Replace those memories with the ones made with Taehyung.
And replace the marks of violence with the burning touches and kisses of love Taehyung leaves on his skin.
Jimin pushes his head back into the cushion when Taehyung moves down to his collarbones, leaves open-mouthed kisses all over Jimin’s chest, before he reaches Jimin’s lower stomach.
“W—Wait,” Jimin whimpers, chest heaving and heart thumping loudly in his eardrums.
Taehyung waits, head nestled between Jimin’s thighs while his fingers keep softly massaging his walls. And like this, damp hair sticking to his sweaty skin, eyes filled with lust and love, Taehyung looks like a dream. It makes Jimin’s chest spasm with a shaky breath.
“Hurts?”
Jimin shakes his head. It’s not that. He slowly releases Taehyung’s hair to slip a hand over his lower stomach, like he’s hiding a part of him. It’s ridiculous, he thinks. It shouldn’t be a big deal. But it makes him nervous.
Not only the body he has right now is still tainted by those bruises, he’s also— not baby smooth down there. And it’s the first time it has happened to him. He’s not used to having a single hair between his legs, always smoothly waxed, and somehow that makes him nervous.
When Taehyung finally understands, he breaks into a soft smile and takes Jimin’s hand away. “You’re beautiful,” he rasps, voice dripping with want, before he nuzzles at the base of Jimin’s cock. “All over. A dream. My dream.”
Relief washes over Jimin. He trusts him—he trusts Taehyung’s whispered praises that he presses against his skin, along his length, and down to where Taehyung mouths eagerly. A hand pressing down on Jimin’s thigh urges him to spread his legs a little wider, allowing Taehyung to settle more comfortably, exposing himself fully.
It’s not new. Taehyung has seen every part of Jimin for days, has wiped him clean more times than they can count, but it’s never been... sexual. It’s never been this intimate.
“A— Ah—!” Jimin almost jerks in surprise when he feels Taehyung’s fingers dig into the meat of his cheek, spreading him open to fit his tongue right on the stretched rim. And it’s such a foreign feeling, something no one has ever done for Jimin, that he allows the tears to spill again.
“Pretty, beautiful,” Taehyung keeps whispering, probably feeling Jimin’s thighs shaking under him. He kisses the thin skin there, mouths at it, before he slips his tongue in, alongside his fingers. It’s wet with the lube and the spit, Jimin can hear it as Taehyung starts to work his tongue in and out, the pleasure prickling Jimin’s skin.
It coils up fast in Jimin’s belly, the blood rushing to his already aching cock, and he has to grab the sheets with the hand that’s not gripping Taehyung’s hair, twisting them. He arches his back a little, unable to keep himself from whimpering, high and desperate, as Taehyung works him open.
It starts slow, as if Taehyung’s carefully testing Jimin’s limits, before his fingers begin to pump at a faster pace, his tongue licking deep inside.
The wet squelches make Jimin choke on a moan. It’s loud, so much so that he hears it above his heart beating in his ears, and the satisfied moans muffled against his hole assure him that Taehyung is enjoying it just as much as he is.
Embarrassment melts into pleasure. His mind escapes from his own control, faster and faster, his body shaking. He’s barely making any effort to keep his hips from jerking and rolling when Taehyung adds a third finger, tongue lapping on the base of Jimin’s cock instead.
“So good,” Taehyung moans against his length, and Jimin barely manages to glance down for a second to catch the way Taehyung’s hazy eyes are set on him—constantly checking. Making sure that Jimin feels good.
Jimin digs his heels into Taehyung’s back the moment Taehyung finds his prostate, a shock coursing through his entire body, causing him to arch his back off the bed and cry out in pleasure.
Taehyung holds him down when he slowly stretches his fingers inside, enough to make Jimin feel it burn—the sweet, best kind of burn.
“I know, pretty,” Taehyung’s quick to shush when Jimin reaches down to grip Taehyung’s wrist, unable to speak and warn him that he’s close, so close to cum on his fingers. “I wanted to make sure you’d be stretched enough for me. I don’t want to hurt you.”
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’ It echoes in Jimin’s head.
Again.
Again.
Until it twists into another voice.
‘Don’t make me hurt you.’
It bursts before Jimin can control any of it. The tears. The sobs.
Taehyung pulls his fingers out instantly and pushes himself up, scrambling to climb on top of Jimin again, his cleaned hand cupping Jimin’s cheek so softly, so gently, that it only makes it worse.
“Hey, hey, what happened? Did I hurt you? Jimin, hey, look at me.”
Jimin’s chest is heaving with the cries. Between the sudden lack of stimulation inside him and the softness of Taehyung’s voice, Jimin can’t seem to get a hold of his breathing, nor his mind. It’s too much at the same time. He tries, really tries to snap out of it, to come back to the hotel room, come back to Taehyung. He manages to hold on to him, fingers and nails digging into Taehyung’s back as he feels the weight of Taehyung’s body pressing down on him. Keeping him safe.
“Jimin, I need you to breathe,” Taehyung tries again, pressing his nose into Jimin’s cheek while he caresses the other, gently, slowly. “Come back to me. Talk to me. I beg of you.”
Another hand is delicately stroking Jimin’s side, from his ribs down to his thigh, and up again. It’s soothing. It’s helping.
“That’s it,” Taehyung sighs softly. “Come back to me. You’re safe in my arms, pretty. Do you hear me? You’re safe.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Don’t,” Taehyung cuts off immediately, nuzzling into Jimin’s cheek. “I don’t want to hear you apologize. I just want you.”
Jimin chokes up on the breath he takes. Tries to take another one, and fails miserably. He opens his eyes, guilt gripping his heart at the broken sight of Taehyung looking back at him with so much love and worry. He’s hurting, too—and Jimin’s doing that to him.
“Don’t get back into that head of yours,” Taehyung whispers like he could read Jimin’s mind. His thumb wipes the tears wetting Jimin’s face, before he leans in for a chaste kiss. A faint press of their lips. “Focus on me.”
Jimin tries. His mind is still foggy when he trails his fingers up until they run through Taehyung’s damp hair to gently cup his head and try to blink the tears away to focus on Taehyung’s face. To retrace every part of it, like he’s done before.
“Hey, Jimin, talk to me.”
“I still want you,” Jimin manages in a shaky breath, “...inside me.”
Taehyung’s eyes widen in surprise. Staring, for a second.
Before he hides his face into the crook of Jimin’s neck to muffle his chuckle. “Yeah, you’re definitely back.”
Jimin smiles at him, breathing still a little choppy and shaky.
Taehyung presses a kiss against Jimin’s jaw before he pushes himself up enough to glance down, hips rolling into Jimin’s. They’ve gone a little soft, as expected, but the breathless moans they let out at a particularly sharp thrust of Taehyung’s hips into Jimin’s is enough for them to fall back into each other, arousal spiking rapidly.
“I need condoms,” Taehyung rasps, mouthing at Jimin’s chest, tongue flicking over his nipple and stealing the sweetest moans out of him. “I don’t have any.”
Jimin’s fingers twist the strands of hair they grip, enough for Taehyung to look up from where he’s eagerly licking. “I’m... clean.”
“Min-ah,” Taehyung starts softly, the nickname sending hot shivers down Jimin’s spine. “I am, too, but—”
“We don’t need them,” Jimin concludes.
Taehyung huffs softly. He brings a hand to Jimin’s nipple instead, playing with it while he keeps pressing his cock against Jimin’s. Slow but eager humping. “I don’t want to argue with you.”
Jimin’s breath stutters. “You want them?”
“I don’t want them, but I think you’ll feel more comfortable if I don’t come inside you.”
“No,” Jimin shakes his head. “I won’t. I want to feel you. I want to—” smell like you.
Taehyung hums, like he isn't convinced Jimin isn't just speaking words he thinks Taehyung would like to hear. He sneaks a hand between their hips and wraps his fingers around their cocks. Both of them. The touch makes Jimin moan high in his throat, feeling the heat pooling in his stomach again, arousal burning his skin as Taehyung begins to stroke them. It's smooth, wet with the lube he poured earlier and the precum he smears up and down their lengths.
“No condoms?” Taehyung asks again when he's back up, smiling at how Jimin pulls his face closer to lick into his mouth.
“No condoms,” Jimin confirms.
“I'll clean you up, then.”
Jimin breathes out a chuckle of relief, his mind finally settling to allow him to focus on Taehyung. On the taste of his lips, on the burning touches of his hand around him. The wet sounds of the kisses blend with the wet squelches of Taehyung’s hand, Jimin’s small whimpers barely heard above.
Taehyung softly caresses Jimin’s side, down to his waist and down to his inner thigh where he applies a gentle pressure to guide Jimin into parting his legs wider open. “You want to be on your stomach?”
Jimin shakes his head slightly, shivering at the loss of warmth around him before he feels it between his cheeks, warm and wet fingers rubbing the lube there, checking if he’s ready. “I want to look at you,” only you.
You, you, you.
With a hum, Taehyung licks Jimin’s swollen lips and guides the tip right against Jimin’s hole, teasing at first before he breathes a faint and amused, “Sorry,” at the frustrated whimper Jimin lets out, only to push inside.
Inch by inch.
Until he stops the moment Jimin clenches impossibly hard around him, punching a struggled moan out of Taehyung’s throat. He’s not even half-way in.
“Does it hurt?”
Jimin’s holding his breath. He stopped licking into Taehyung’s mouth when he felt him splitting him open—it’s thick. It fills him up in a way that he can feel how red and stretched he is around Taehyung. It’s a lot. A lot for his foggy brain. Not only has it been so long, he’s also never taken someone so... big.
“Jimin,” Taehyung whispers, his tongue lapping along Jimin’s jaw, his hips rolling every so slightly to push the tip in and out, just enough to make Jimin get used to the feeling, to make that ring muscle melt around him. Jimin’s nails scratch down Taehyung’s shoulders, his thighs quivering. “I should have taken more time stretching you open.”
“No,” Jimin breathes out heavily, tears spilling. “I’m— fine.” He arches his back in high-pitched whimpers as Taehyung keeps moving slowly inside him, like he’s carving a place inside just for him. Molding Jimin’s insides for him and him only. “Tae—”
“I know. Open up for me, pretty.”
Jimin parts his mouth eagerly, his body relaxing enough to let Taehyung push another inch in, the burn stealing a high moan swallowed by Taehyung. His hips work slowly, long and deeper drags each time, and the wet, open-mouthed kisses combined with the gentle caresses on Jimin’s thigh help him get used to the thickness inside him.
“That’s it, just a little more,” Taehyung praises, “you’re taking me so well.”
A hiccup prevents Jimin from answering, his breathing ragged and his mind high in bliss.
The painful burn turns into overwhelming pleasure. He doesn’t even realize Taehyung has pushed himself deeper, so much deeper that he sinks to the hilt. They both gasp in relief when Taehyung’s hips press flush against the swell of Jimin’s ass.
They remain like this for a moment, sweaty foreheads pressed together, heavy and ragged breaths shared in the intimate space between their parted lips. Pleasure courses through Jimin’s veins when Taehyung swivels his hips, just enough to push the tip of his cock against that sweet bundle of nerves, the sensation punching a high-pitched moan out of Jimin’s lungs.
“There it is,” Taehyung chuckles breathlessly. He digs his fingers into the meat of Jimin’s thigh, brushing the tips of their noses together when he asks, “Can I move, pretty?”
“Please.”
Taehyung doesn’t need to be told twice. He plants a kiss on the tip of Jimin’s nose, on his lips, and begins drawing his hips back, half-way back, half-way in. It’s slow and controlled, the kind of pace that lets them enjoy and feel every drag, and it’s so overwhelmingly good.
Jimin’s body melts under Taehyung, sweet moans spilling from his spit-coated lips. Even though their chests, sweaty and burning hot, are already pressed flush together, Jimin loops his arms around Taehyung’s neck to keep him there, close. His legs wrap around him too, allowing his body to be gently rocked forward into the bed with each thrust that grows deeper, and a little sharper.
The air grows heavy—but it’s the kind of heat that fills Jimin’s chest with euphoria.
“Focus on me. On us.”
“I am,” Jimin assures between two strangled moans, “that’s why— ah! That’s why I’m—” crying. He holds onto Taehyung tighter, head thrown back into the cushion, pleasure coiling up in his stomach. If his mind wasn’t gone, high in pleasure, Jimin would have voiced out the reason for his tears. And it isn’t that he’s falling back into the past, rather falling for the gentle and loving touches; something he’s never experienced with someone else.
Gentle love.
Their lips barely catch each other, too wet and slippery with saliva, mouths open to moan and gasp at a particularly well-angled thrust. Jimin clenches and unclenches his fists into Taehyung’s hair, letting himself be taken as Taehyung starts mouthing down his jaw.
He doesn’t realize the bandage around his neck as started to loosen before he feels Taehyung’s warm breath fanning against his now exposed skin, the bandage discarded somewhere. Jimin gasps, but he doesn’t have the time to panic about the wounds that Taehyung is already lapping at it. Eager and careful drags of his tongue, mouthing and kissing. Biting his own name into it all over again.
Kim Taehyung.
“Tae—Taehyung,” Jimin stutters between breathless moans, rolling his hips to meet Taehyung’s halfway down before he’s rocked upward on the bed, that sweet bundle of nerves inside being hit over and over again, pushing Jimin close to the edge with each thrust. “Call me— Ah—! Call me yours... please.”
It’s been a few days now since he’s first begged Taehyung to do it. They haven’t talked about it yet, nor has Taehyung ever asked about the reason behind this need to be claimed and owned, but each time he refused or remained silent, Jimin would be right on the doorstep of another panic attack.
They should talk about it. They should.
“Mine.”
They’ll talk—but not now.
“Mine, mine, mine,” Taehyung rasps, each word deeper than the other, sinking into Jimin’s skin, into his bones.
The pace grows a little quicker. Taehyung pushes himself up just enough to lean on his forearms, caging Jimin’s head and leaning down to kiss him again, having a better leverage to slam into him, hips smacking wetly against Jimin’s cheeks.
Jimin starts to writhe under him, feeling it rush to his cock trapped between their chests, constricting his balls. His jaw drops into desperate moans, chest heaving, and his hands grapple to grasp at something, anything, but it’s never enough. He runs his fingers down, scratches Taehyung’s shoulders, down his back, and trails them back up again to cup the nape of his neck.
“You’re beautiful,” Taehyung praises, voice so deep that it almost sounds obscene in Jimin’s ears. It blends with the wet smacks of their skin slapping, blends with their moans and whimpers, and makes Jimin teeter around the edge of his orgasm. “Gorgeous. Don’t keep that voice down, let me hear you.”
“Yours,” Jimin reminds him, toes curling as he feels it, right on the edges.
“Mine,” Taehyung indulges him, leaving open-mouthed kisses down Jimin’s jaw. “Mine to protect. Mine to love.”
Jimin’s orgasm hits him right on that word, white dots shooting up in his vision as he drops his head back in a shout, his body locking up. His eyes roll to the back as Taehyung keeps rolling his hips, deep and slow to help him ride his orgasm, mouth clasped to Jimin’s clavicle before licking up his neck.
A sob breaks past Jimin’s throat as his thighs quiver around Taehyung, pushed to oversensitivity. He struggles to find Taehyung’s lips again, hands clumsily cupping the back of Taehyung’s head, and Jimin cries in relief the moment he feels the wetness and warmth of Taehyung’s tongue back against his.
“A— ah!”
“Sorry,” Taehyung huffs breathlessly, one hand pinning Jimin’s hips down as his own stutter to a halt. It’s only then that Jimin feels it—hot and wet, filling him deep. Jimin moans at the feeling.
It takes him a while to come down from his high, the weight and warmth of Taehyung’s body keeping him safe. While Taehyung’s hands caress Jimin’s waist down to his thighs in slow, soothing rubs, Jimin lets his fingers play with Taehyung’s sweaty hair.
The kisses slow down, too. Jimin breathes in each time they part, each time Taehyung catches his bottom lip between his teeth and releases to softly lick it.
It’s silent, apart from their loud breathing and the wet noises of their lips and tongues moving together.
Time slows down.
Jimin’s mind floats, satisfaction coursing through his entire body, from the tip of his fingers down to the tip of his toes. He feels Taehyung slip out of him, the fleeting discomfort quickly melting into pleasure again when Taehyung kisses him deeply and gives light squeezes up and down Jimin’s thighs—a way to keep him there, in the moment. With him.
“‘m sleepy,” Jimin ends up admitting, his head heavy, his body no lighter. He hears a chuckled breath, but even that sounds so far away.
“Sleep, pretty. I’ll wash us up.”
“Sleep w’ me,” Jimin slurs the words.
“I just did,” Taehyung teases, but none of it registers in Jimin’s mind.
He hums, instead. Tries, in a breath barely above a whisper, “‘love you.”
He doesn’t hear the response.
His mind’s drifting away.