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“Taehyung. Taehyungie.” Jimin pants. Taehyung sits beneath him, cock buried in Jimin. His shirt is unbuttoned and splayed open. His chest is flush and forehead beading with sweat. Shoes lie the floor, abandoned messily in their haste. The clock reads 5:30pm.
“Jimin.” Taehyung groans. “Jesus fuck. Shit.” His head falls back against the couch, eyes closed. Jimin rocks over him, his face contorted in a mix of anger and pleasure.
Taehyungs hands hold Jimin’s hips loosely, long fingers tan against Jimin’s pale skin.
“Hold me tighter. Hold me like you mean it.” Jimin snarls. And- does he mean it? Does he? How could he? Jimin’s not his to fuck anymore, and this truth is shown through the hesitancy of Taehyung’s hands. Everything else has been foregone, but his hands are still hesitant and Jimin hates it. He puts his own hand on top of one of Taehyung’s and curls his fingers to dig tightly around his waist.
Taehyung gives in. His grip tightens possessively around Jimin, pulling Jimin’s hips tighter against his own. Both of them gasp.
“Yeah.” Jimin groans. “Fuck me like you want it, might as well since we’re already here.”
“I can’t-” Taehyung’s face flushes and he turns away from Jimin.
“You can.” Jimin insists. He moves closer to Taehyung’s ear. “You already are.”
He’s centimeters from Taehyung’s face and can see a bead of sweat dripping down his temple. He feels drunk. He feels delirious. He leans forward and licks the bead of sweat.
“Jimin-” Taehyung groans. Jimin closes his eyes, the taste of sweat in his mouth. Salty, Taehyungie. He wants to lick all over Taehyung, he wants to burn the taste of his sweat on his tongue and carry it around with him, forever tasting him. Anybody could fuck Taehyung then. Anyone could fuck him and yeah, that would be shitty, but would they have the salty taste of Taehyung’s temple imprinted on to their tongue?
Not the prettiest part of Taehyung, not the sexiest part of him, but something more intimate. Would anyone else even want these parts of him on their skin forever? They can’t. Jimin thinks. It’s not even that he likes Taehyung more than anyone else, it’s that Taehyung is a part of him.
He bites Taehyung’s neck and Taehyung jerks away.
“Don’t-” he pants out. “Don’ leave marks-”
“Right.” Jimin says mockingly, leaning back and continuing to roll his hips. “He wouldn’t like that, would he.”
“Jimin don’t-”
“He wouldn’t like me bouncing on your cock either I bet. Most boyfriends wouldn’t.”
Taehyung’s face contorts.
“Have you told him that his baby still fucks Jiminie because he can’t get enough? Does he know how well I take it?”
“Jimin-”
“Bet he doesn’t ride you this well.” Jimin goes on. His eyes are locked on Taehyungs. “Bet he’s not as tight, he can’t take it every damn day like I did.”
He leans forward until his mouth is right next to Taehyung’s ear. His voice is low and venomous. “You had this every damn day , Taehyung. Does he do that for you?”
“Jimin’” Taehyung pants out again, eyebrows drawing together.
Jimin slaps his face, the sound sharp in the empty apartment. Taehyung groans.
“Tell me.” He says viciously.
Taehyung wimpers. “No.”
Jimin slaps him again. “No what? Use your words.”
“He doesn’t take it like you.”
“Of course not.” Jimin feels delirious again and tilts into Taehyung’s chest. He forces himself to slow his hips down and begins to circle them. “Because how could he, baby? When you’re cock fits inside me so perfect.” Jimin whispers, hands coming up to clutch the sides of Taehyung’s face. “Baby couldn’t stay away.”
Was it Taehyung who couldn’t stay away? Jimin can’t think about it too much, it will make him hate himself. Taehyung was never good for him, they fought all the time. About trivial things and serious things, stones thrown always with the intention of hurting. When you love someone you know just the words to hurt them, and they both wielded that knife with frightening precision. And then who else to pick each other up afterwards?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry. They’d say through tears and trembling hands. Baby you know I didn’t mean it, I’d never try to hurt you. They’d bandage each other up and promise to never do it again. Because nobody in the world understands it like they do. Nobody in the world understands the way that Taehyung is half of Jimin’s ribcage, he is part of the structure of Jimin’s body. Jimin gave up wanting be Jimin without Taehyung a long time ago. They were addicted to each other and vicious to each other right up until the day Taehyung cheated on him.
And even then, it didn’t matter. It didn’t change the way that Jimin is tied to Taehyung, that invisible red thread firmly knotted, binding handcuffs. It didn’t change the way that Taehyung calls Jimin his angel, it didn’t change the way that Jimin wants to imprint Taehyung’s sweat on his tongue to carry him around, lock him in his mouth, keep him there forever with his teeth clamped shut.
“Where does he think you are right now?” Jimin asks against Taehyung’s mouth. His hips move slowly, Taehyung's hands helping him ride through it.
“With Kook.” Taehyung makes out. His lips brush against Jimin’s as he speaks.
Jimin almost laughs in disbelief. “With Kook? Kook who’s not even in town right now? God, you’re sloppy. That would’ve never worked with me. At fucking Kook’s. He doesn’t know you like I do. Does he?”
This time, Taehyung is quick to shake his head. “Not like you, Jimin-” he groans. One of his hands moves down to squeeze Jimin’s ass.
“Yeah, like that, baby? Feels good, doesn't it.”
“Feels so good Jiminie, so good-”
“Show me how good, c'mon-“ Jimin whines.
“Shit, Jimin, feels so fucking good-“
And all the sudden Jimin is pulling off of him, getting off his lap to go grab something from the floor.
“Jimin?” Taehyung asks in confusion. He looks a mess, his hair askew and dick hard in front of him. Jimin imagines him coming home to his boyfriend tonight, smoothing down his hair and talking about what's for dinner. Wouldn’t his boyfriend be able to tell? Won’t Taehyung look fucked, won’t the telltale dazed look he gets after sex give him away? It certainly had before. Jimin had known right away.
Maybe they weren’t soulmates enough to stop from screaming at each other or to keep the promises they whispered to each other. But they were soulmates enough for Jimin to look into Taehyung’s hazy eyes and know. Soulmates enough that Taehyung couldn’t lie. Soulmates enough that Jimin swore he could feel someone else had been inside of Taehyung.
He’d bent Taehyung over the counter right then and there. Who was it? He’d demanded. Somoene else was here, who the fuck was it. Put his dick in his Taehyung and promised, This is the last time you’ll ever have me inside of you, and you’re going to think of it everytime someone else fucks you here, baby. You’re going to think of me every fucking time.
Yeah, they were soulmates enough.
Now, he grabs his sweatshirt from the ground. It’s large; he thrifted it. He’s methodical as he walks to Taehyung’s desk and grabs scissors.
“Jimin?” Taehyung asks again.
Jimin ignores him and brings the scissors to the top of the crewneck. It’s difficult to cut the fabric- the sweatshirt is thick and the scissors are cheap. He does it though, the blade slowly gnawing through navy cloth. He holds it back to look. There is a long incision from the neck hole to the middle of the sweatshirt. Jimin puts it on. Taehyung’s eyes follow him as he comes back to the couch. He lays down, a pillow beneath his head.
Taehyung reaches out and traces a finger along Jimin’s foot.
Jimin holds up the bottom of the sweatshirt, exposing his abdomen and aching dick.
“In.” Jimin says. He’s not asking Taehyung to be inside of him, not yet. Taehyung understands. Three are different forms of closeness. He crawls across the couch towards him, head going under Jimin’s sweatshirt to mouth at his stomach. His other hand curls loosely around Jimin’s dick, playing with the precome on his slit. Jimin folds the sweatshirt over his head, keeping him there.
“Yeah.” Jimin breathes. “You can mark me up, baby. I don’t have a boyfriend who doesn’t know I’m fucking my ex.” The skin around his hips is tender- he gasps as Taehyung bites him there. “That’s it, baby.”
His hand moves steadily up and down Jimin’s shaft. The room is quiet for a moment save for Jimin's soft gasps. Taehyung nips at Jimin’s skin, leaving small dark bruises. Jimin’s hands pull at Taehyung’s hair.
“You’re not a good person, Tae.” He says suddenly.
Taehyung exhales but keeps pressing kisses to him.
“You’re fucking selfish.” Jimin insists.
“Stop it Jimin. You’re here too.” His voice is quiet but Jimin can feel the words against his skin. You’re here too.
He laughs coldly. “I don’t have a boyfriend who thinks I’m at Kook’s. I might be a slut but I’m not a cheater.” It feels good to say the words. It feels good to say them, to distract him from their actions. But. Jimin’s eyes are watering and -
“It fucking sucks to be cheated on.” Tears are coming out of his eyes, a lot of them, and a small sob escapes him. “It fucking sucks, shit.” He presses the back of his hand to his mouth to muffle the noise. He feels sick. Why the hell is here here, fuck. He should leave. His heart beats rapidly in his chest, a bird in a cage. Come live in my chest Taehyung, see what hell it’s like in there, he thinks.
Then Taehyung’s head comes up through the sweatshirt hole that Jimin cut to be bigger for this very purpose. It’s a tight fit, but he inches upwards till they’re both squeezed in tightly. Taehyung tries to pull Jimin’s hand away from his face but Jimin jerks it back in place.
“Shhh.” Taehyung soothes.
“I hate it.” Jimin makes out, pressing his shaking hand to his eyes. “It fucking sucks.”
When Taehyung’s lips find his, Jimin latches on to him desperately. Because he wants this, he wants it so bad, it’s all he’s ever wanted. Taehyung’s lips fit so well on his. They always have. Jimin is filled with a flood of possessive desire and he sucks Taehyung’s bottom lip into his mouth. The kiss is salty from Jimin’s tears. Pain and pleasure, they’re always hand in hand when they’re together.
Taehyung’s mouth moves desperately against Jimin, messy and demanding. His arms snake into the sweatshirt sleeves that Jimin’s are also in. Their hands weave together on either side of Jimin’s head.
The sweatshirt is big enough for them both to fit in, but only just. Taehyung’s chest is held tightly against Jimin’s chest, hot skin pressed to hot skin. Their dicks rub together. Yes. Yes, Jimin thinks as he falls. Mold your chest into my chest, let me sit in your beating heart and live there. Swap cells- mine are dripping with self destruction- can you feel what you did to me? Our cells can destroy themselves together. They’re soulmates aren’t they? It’s only right that Taehyung should take some of Jimin’s DNA as his own and be forced to carry its hatred.
Keeping their lips connected, Taehyung tugs one of his arms down between them. Jimin’s arm, in the same sleeve, follows. He gasps as feels Taehyung grab his own dick to line it up with Jimin’s hole. Jimin’s hand brushes against the inside of his thighs. They are wet with lube and precome from before. He bends one leg at the knee. As best he can, he spreads his cheeks with two fingers for Taehyung. They fumble for a moment. Then Taehyung finally succeeds in lining up his dick and is pushing himself into Jimin.
“Yeah, yeah-” Jimin finds himself repeating. “Oh shit, fuck Taehyung- you always feel so fucking good, shit-” Their arms return to the side of Jimin’s head once again. He feels Taehyung everywhere deep inside of him. In his guts. Good. Another place he can keep Taehyung locked away and unshared.
“God.” Taehyung grounds. “I can feel my dick pressing up on my stomach through your stomach.”
Oh fuck.
Now that Taehyung points out, Jimin can feel it too. There’s a slight slight bulge in his stomach from Taehyung’s fat cock pressed so deep inside of him. It's always there, but usually they aren’t pressed so tight together. Now, because of the sweatshirt, Jimin can feel Taehyung’s dick pressing up through his stomach to Taehyung’s own.
“Oh.” He whines. “Tae. Tae-“ He doesn’t know quite what he’s asking for. He just knows he wants more, he wants Taehyung even closer, even deeper inside of him. He yanks one of their sleeves towards his mouth, opening his jaw and putting a finger of Taehyung’s inside. One of his own is partially in there too. More, more. He doesn’t want to be his own person.
“You think,” Taehyung makes out, fucking into Jimin, to the extent that he can in the sweatshirt, “I don’t already know that I’m not a good person?” Jimin cries out a little around their fingers. “I know it. I fucking know it Jimin. And if I know it, you definitely know it. You know more about me than I do.”
Jimin wimpers again and nods desperately around their fingers.
“You know me more than anyone, angel.” Taehyung says. “And I know you more than anyone.” And then to demonstrate his point he shifts his hips and hits Jimin’s prostate straight on. Jimin’s mouth parts silently around their fingers.
“Yeah.” Taehyung says, rolling against it. “That feels good, doesn’t it. You fucked me and said I’d think of you evertime afterwards. You win, I guess. I do think of you when he fucks me, think of how nice your little cock fit in my ass. Even if I don’t want to think about it. Hell, sometimes I’d do anything to fucking forget. I can’t. So I guess you win.”
He pauses to slide his fingers in and out of Jimin’s mouth. “But I don’t even need to pull the same little stunt you pulled. I know you think of me every time someone fucks you. I don’t even need to tell you to. I just know. ”
Jimin sucks desperately on Taehyung’s fingers. If Taehyung thinks of Jimin everytime he gets fucked, and Jimin thinks of Taehyung evertime he gets fucked, isn’t it kind of like they’re fucking each other then? There it is again, that red string pulled taught, chaining them together. It doesn’t matter whose hands are on Taehyung, in his mind they will always be Jimin’s.
Taehyung is everywhere around Jimin. Inside his mouth, inside his stomach. Chests wrapped tightly together from the sweatshirt, elbows fused. The couch presses up on Jimin’s back. Taehyung messily takes their fingers from Jimin’s mouth and replaces it with his lips instead. They kiss, Taehyung pulling Jimin’s bottom lip into his mouth. Have we swapped cells yet? Jimin wonders. Do I make up a part of your eyelid? The hair follicles on your head?
Jimin shifts his bent leg to wrap around Taehyung’s back, pulling them impossibly closer together. The angle shifts Taehyung slightly, hitting even deeper inside Jimin.
“Oh- oh-” Jimin whines. “Right there- Taehyungie- baby- yes baby don’t stop-” Waves of pleasure wash through his body. His hands are clenches so tightly around Taehyung’s that they’re white. His nails leave half moon indents on Taehyung’s knuckles. And is it hatred or love that washes over him? He loathes how good it feels. He digs his heel into Taehyung’s back. His cock slides tightly between them.
“Oh god- mfft.” He says against Taehyung’s mouth.
“Open.” Taehyung says, nudging at Jimin’s jaw. Then he spits in his mouth. “Swallow. To take for later.”
And oh. Oh shit. Jimin swallows.
The saliva burns on it’s way down, thick and warm. To take for later. Hot, hot. Jimin feels so warm, so blissfully delirious. Spit in his guts, sweat on his tongue, he and Taehyung in the same clothes. They never could get close enough. Jimin feels himself tipping over the edge.
“Taehyung, I’m gonna-”
“That’s it angel.”
"Taehyung, I’m coming, I’m coming-” His body goes tenses, twitching underneath Taehyung as white spurts of cum spill between them.
“That’s it-that’s, oh fuck,, Jimin, Jimin, Jimin, Jiminie-”
He can feel the moment Tarhyung also comes, filling his insides with a wet warmth.
------
It’s quiet as they clean up. Taehyung straightens the couch. Jimin wipes himself off with a paper towel and then pulls back on his jeans. He’s sure as hell not showering here.
“I…” Taehyung clears his throat. “I should go soon. We’re meeting at 6:30. I shouldn’t be late.” Jimin doesn’t need to ask who we is.
His eyes flit up to fix Taehyung with a piercing stare. “No, we wouldn’t want you to be late. God forbid.” He zips up his fly. The action makes him feel dirty and somewhat used. This whole situation makes him feel dirty and somewhat used.
Taehyung’s spit burns in his stomach.
“We should stop.” Jimin says bluntly. He stares vacantly at the clock. 6:15.
Taehyung studies Jimin, his eyes trailing over him. The clock ticks in the quiet apartment.
“Do you want to stop?” Taehyung finally asks.
“Oh, fuck you. ” Jimin spits. A tear threatens to spill over his cheek. “This is so fucked up.”
“Jimin…” Taehyung starts. “You’re not doing anything wrong, it’s me.”
Jimin’s eyes flash. He remembers the feeling of finding out Taehyung had let someone else fuck him.
“Yeah, you would think that.” Besides, if you’re doing something wrong, I’m doing something wrong. You’re in my ribcage Taehyung. One of us starts where the other ends.
“You won’t say anything?” Taehyung asks.
“Seriously?” Jimin laughs hollowly. “No, I won't say anything because it’s fucking embarssing for me.”
“Okay.” Taehyung says. Jimin doesn’t know if he’s looking at him- he can’t bring himself to check. Another stretch of silence. “...Get home safely then, the weather’s shit. I’ll see you… sometime, I guess.”
“Probably not.” Jimin says before he shuts the door behind him. He can taste the lie on his tongue. And if he can taste it, Taehyung can definitely taste it too. If they can both taste it, are they tasting each other? Jimin clamps his teeth shut hard.
He heads back to his car parked two blocks away from Taehyung’s apartment. Snowflakes fall and he burrows into his ripped hoodie. He rubs his tongue against the room of his mouth. The red string winds ever tighter.