#bangtanarmynetwork

He especially loved Treat Day. Once a month, the hospital gave the patients a special treat. Normally, it’d be candy, chocolate, popsicles or cookies (the good kind, not the usual lunch-time biscuits). Everyone would sit outside in the sun, playing games in the afternoon, and simply enjoy the outdoors. At night, they could enjoy a special movie in the TV room, something Jimin liked to do. Jimin loved it  when Namjoon spent the day with him. After his escape attempt, Jimin thought the hospital might separate them. He had after all broken into Namjoon’s house, had sex with him, and then left. But Namjoon had explained that the hospital director had changed his mind at the last minute. Jimin had wondered why, but Namjoon’s tone had kept him from asking. Not that he cared anyways. He was happy he could keep seeing his favorite doctor, and that the doctor returned his feelings too. 

“We have to be discreet when we’re outside this room,” Namjoon had told Jimin when they had cookies in his office one day. “Some people find our relationship to be inappropriate because you’re my patient and I’m your doctor.” 

“Relationship?” the prospect had made his eyes light up. 

Namjoon had smiled softly, his dimples dipping into his cheeks, “If you’d like that, that is.”

“I do, I do, I do!” Jimin had bounced around, then hugged and kissed him. Nothing made him happier. He knew Namjoon would not leave him like the others. He knew Namjoon was special. 

From that day, Treat Day became his favorite day. He and the other patients always looked forward to it. Well, those who were competent enough to understand. Jimin wondered what treat they’d get this week as the guards escorted him to Namjoon’s office. He hoped it’d be ice cream again. Nurse Hopskins brought this delicious peanut butter and chocolate chip flavor he’d fallen for. The flavor reminded him of his old sweet shop by the farmer’s market. He would’ve loved to use that flavor for mini ice cream sandwiches. People would have loved those. He’d get to see their smiling faces as they ingested they special treat. He might not even have sprayed his poison coating on them either. There were some treats Jimin could never bring himself to use in his games. 

He had truly missed those games. He remembered mixing the coating on all the sweets he sold at varying degrees. Sometimes people would simply become sick. Other times, they’d collapse, convulsing,bleeding, and vomiting. It was a gamble that Jimin loved. It was a special game and only he knew the rules. It gave him a rush that filled the void inside him. Love and loving another person always felt so special to him; being the object of someone’s affections sounded so nice. Being in love gave him a high he constantly chased. The game gave him excitement in between. But, he doesn't need that anymore. He had Namjoon, and Namjoon would never leave him. 

“Dr. Kim,” one of the guards called into the room, “We have your next patient.”

“Thanks, Phil.”

“We can stay with this one if you want-”

“-No, no, it’s fine. Jimin’s not a threat.”

“Alright then.” 

Jimin beamed brightly when he entered Namjoon’s comfy office. Plants and books were everywhere, and the warm-colored furniture brought a homey feeling to the place. His eyes scanned the room before they landed on Namjoon at his desk. He gasped as he took in the state of his boyfriend. Rather than seeing Namjoon’s kind smile, he saw pain. His lucious, full lips were split in a red gash. One of his sharp brown eyes was swollen and deep purple and black bruises went around the temple. One cheek had a bandage right on the upper half; Jimin spotted more bruising around his neck, underneath his shirt collar. He felt like crying,  his eyes teared up seeing Namjoon wince as he bent forward on his desk. 

“Namjoon!” he moved towards the older man, shock apparent on his face as he came to stand next to the doctor. “Oh god, Namjoon, what happened?”

“A patient got a bit rough,” Namjoon answered, about to move until Jimin put a hand on his shoulder to sit him down. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”

“Oh lord, Namjoon,” he brought over his chair to sit close to him. Seeing his wounds up close made Jimin’s stomach churn. “Namjoon, oh Namjoon,” he cooed, running a finger over one of the cut cheeks. “Who did this to you? Why?”

“Nobody,” he replied. “It’s not important-”

“-Yes, it is,” he said firmly. He tried holding back his tears as he said, “Who did it? Was it Hobbs? Was it Jones? Who hurt you, Namjoon?”

“It wasn’t them, and it’s nothing for you to worry about.” He saw Jimin’s watery eyes and chuckled, “Why are you crying, Jiminie?”

“Because you’re hurt,” he whimpered. He pecked Namjoon’s injured lips delicately, “Someone hurt you and you won’t tell me who or why. I hate seeing you like this. It hurts me too!”

Namjoon cupped his cheek, his knuckles also showing signs of bruising, “I triggered a patient and he got violent with me a few days ago. It’s why I cancelled our appointment last week. I went to the hospital and they gave me some pain medication to help. I’m fine now, Jiminie. Please don’t worry about me.”

“I can’t help it,” he sniffled. “I love you.”

“I know you do.” He grabbed a thermos from a desk drawer, “I brought you some lemonade from home. I know you like going to the garden and it’s hot out today, so you can have a drink.” 

Jimin, deep down, knew why Namjoon would not give a name. He took the thermos and set it on the desk. He gazed over Namjoon’s face again. Jimin pictured a faceless monster beating his large fists into his love’s beautiful face. He could almost hear Namjoon’s groans of pain and even possible sobbing. Jimin could not imagine the pain or the humiliation at being assaulted by a patient. “What did you say to them?” he asked, watching Namjoon take a painkiller in front of him. 

“I made the mistake of asking about something from their childhood,” he answered. “I thought we’d made enough progress to talk about it. I think it was an event in his life that created a pattern in his crimes as an adult. I suppose I dug a bit too deep and he, um...he, you know, did this.” 

“That bastard,” Jimin scowled. “When I figure out who it is-”

“-What do you plan to do, Jimin?” asked Namjoon, amused by his anger. “You’re small. This guy’s pretty big; he’d crush you.”

Jimin kept his thoughts to himself. He kissed Namjoon’s cheek, then said, “If you don’t want to talk about it right now, then that’s okay. You can tell me when you’re ready to. You know I’ll listen to you just as much as you listen to me.” 

Namjoon smiled gratefully at him, kissed him, and then they started their session. Namjoon asked his questions about his mother and their relationship as Jimin knew he might. Not liking the topic, Jimin thought about Namjoon’s attacker instead. He thought of all the large men who could cause so much damage to his sweet Namjoon. The thought of someone putting their hands on the love of his life made his blood boil. He had never been much of a fighter. Not even in school when the boys picked on him did he raise his fists. However, looking at Namjoon’s beaten face and seeing his twangs of pain, he couldn’t help but want to hurt that person in return. 

“Jimin? Are you alright?” Namjoon asked, noticing Jimin staring off to the window. 

“I want to kill them,” he muttered, his peppy tone gone. “I want to make them hurt as bad as they hurt you.”

“I told you it’s alright, Jimin. They’ve already been punished,” he said. “They’ve been in solitary for a few days now and from now on they will be attended by someone else.”

“That’s not enough,” he snapped. “What if they come after you again? What if they sneak out and hurt you? Namjoon, I-”

“-Jimin, I forbid you to do anything to anyone,” he replied firmly. “You’ve gotten into enough trouble after your escape. I managed to convince the directors you’re safe to be around, but if they think you’re dangerous, they might put you in maximum security and you’ll be taken care of by someone else.” He took a sip of his tea, then continued, “I appreciate you being concerned for me, but everything is fine.” He took hold of Jimin’s hand and kissed it, a gesture that made Jimin swoon. “Let’s focus on you for right now, okay? I wanted to talk to you about Yoongi again. He wrote about you on his blog, and I know for a fact you saw it.”

Jimin glowered thinking of his ex-boyfriend. He’d been the reason Jimin was caught in the first place. However, Namjoon’s mystery attacker once again clouded his thoughts. “How’d you know?” Jimin asked him. 

“Because someone named,” he double checked his clipboard, “‘ChimmyLover95 wrote a comment saying ‘you were a shitty boyfriend anyways. He’s with someone who’s much better than you’.’ Want to talk about that?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t care about him anymore.”

Jimin thought of the attacker again. If Namjoon would not give him a name, he’d figure it out himself. He spent the rest of their session talking about Yoongi and his engagement to Taehyung, the guy he left Jimin for. When their session ended, Jimin kissed Namjoon goodbye and went back to his room. He almost reached for his journal, but then realized the staff might read it should they suspect him. Jimin took a seat on his bed, a comfortable cot with soft sheets and a warm blanket on top, and thought quietly. 

His hospital housed dozens of criminal maniacs. There were low-level threats like himself, and then those in maximum security. Namjoon did have patients from that side of the hospital. It always worried him that one of them might hurt him one day, but Namjoon always insisted he’d be fine. He shuddered, imagining what might’ve happened if the guards had not been there. Namjoon was so good to those under his care regardless of how they acted towards him. Jimin remembered all the times he’d wrecked things in the doctor's office out of anger, and how calm Namjoon remained. When Jimin sobbed an apology, Namjoon kissed his tears away and assured him it was alright. Who would want to injure such a gentle man? 

He listed all the men he thought it could be: it was someone big, strong, and angry. There were many men capable of doing something so awful to Namjoon. He needed a list of Namjoon’s regulars from maximum security, but that’d be difficult to get his hands on. Then, as he drew hearts around a newspaper picture of Namjoon in his journal, he realized he only needed to find out who’d been in solitary recently. Seeing Namjoon’s handsome face staring at him in black and white made his heart ache more. Whoever thought they could harm his lover and get away with it had a big storm approaching. A very violent one. 

****

It took some asking around to other patients, sneaking into the nurse’s station in the middle of the night, and poking through Namjoon’s office, but he had finally found the name: Carl Patz. Over six-feet tall, bald with a permanent grimace on his face, Carl was a man to be feared. Convicted of a slew of crimes, Jimin had read, he was brought to the hospital when the prisons didn’t appear to help him. Jimin had remembered the times he passed Carl in hallways; the way the man would smirk at him and spew something about Jimin being prettier than a girl. He had repeatedly boasted about the men he’d raped and killed over his lifetime. Jimin had heard it hit somewhere in the one-hundreds. He’d been convicted of five murders, but there were rumors of more. Carl had ended up under Namjoon’s gentle care when Carl’s previous doctor ended up badly injured. Nobody was certain how Namjoon had managed it, but Carl opened up to him somehow. Jimin guessed Namjoon hit a sensitive topic that had upset Carl that day. 

“Treat Day is coming up, Jimin! Are you excited?” 

He sat in the recreation yard with Hoseok, a fellow patient. Hoseok sat with a teddy bear in his lap, stroking it gently as he watched the other men around them. “Taetae and I are hoping they’ll give us cookies this time,” he said, “Cookies and milk at movie night. Sounds good, huh?”

“Yeah. Perfect.”

He saw Carl on the other side of the fence. Lifting weights by himself, the others kept their distance from him. He saw Carl’s muscles through his shirt, and imagined them bulging as he’d beaten Namjoon’s face. He almost heard the sort of insults and threats the man might’ve said to Namjoon. Yet, he noticed the light bruises on Carl’s face: he had one bandage over his eye and a swelling bruise on his cheek. A bit of pride filled Jimin’s chest knowing Namjoon had managed to defend himself at first. Jimin knew he could not physically harm someone like Carl. The man could no doubt throw him across a room with one hand. Jimin needed a sneakier way and he knew which way. It’s the way he’s known his entire life. 

“Hey Hobi,” he called the other, “Do you know anything about Carl?”

“Carl? You serious?” He looked at him incredulously. “I wouldn’t get near that guy even if you offered me freedom. He scares Taetae.” He brushed fur from the bear’s eyes, “Isn’t that right, Tae? Don’t worry, I won’t let him hurt you.” 

“I didn’t ask you to go talk to him,” he said, “I wanted to know if you know anything other than what people say about him?”

“Hm, not really.” They sat in silence for a second, “I know he gets special food.”

Jimin looked over at him, the words sparking something inside him, “Special food?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “There are people in the hospital who get special trays due to allergies or diets. Like, Taemin gets protein meals because of his weight loss from that hunger strike. Carl gets special blue trays.” 

Jimin knew what the blue trays meant: food allergy. It was far too good to be true. He smiled as he continued watching Carl. He saw the man’s large hands grabbing the dumbbells left on the ground and begin curling his arms. He wondered how much damage could those hands have done to Namjoon, the thought made him shiver in anger. Knowing Carl’s reputation, he would have violated the doctor too. He needed to know what that allergy was and fast. 

****

It did not take much work to find out what made Carl sick. Jimin only needed to ask the patients who helped out in the kitchen. Minhyuk told him that Carl received special desserts for dinner because of his peanut allergy. The shorter man cackled hearing it. It amused him that something as small as a peanut could take down a beast like Carl. Jimin was forbidden from kitchen duty considering his crimes, so he needed to get the peanuts another way. 

“Come on,” Jimin said to Minhyuk in the garden, “I just need a tiny bag of them.” 

“I can’t, Jimin,” the slim, blond man said. “They’ll give me another demerit if they catch me stealing. I already got two.”

“They won’t catch you if you pass it to me during lunch today,” he replied. “Namjoon really likes peanuts and I want to give him a special present.”

“Your relationship with your shrink is really weird, you know that?”

“No, it’s not. Give me the peanuts and I’ll give you this.” He looked around for security or nurses, then pulled out a cellphone from inside his waistband. “I heard you were looking for one. You have a boyfriend out west, don’t you? Wouldn’t it be nice to send him some naughty pictures so he never forgets you?”

“What me and Jooheon have isn't all about sex,” he snapped. He eyed the phone in Jimin’s hand longingly. Jimin heard how the pair were separated after they’d been caught in the sadistic dungeon under their house. He knew how it felt being apart from someone he loved. “Just one bag?” Minhyuk asked, taking a drag from his cigarette. 

“Just one little bag.”

Minhyuk stared at the phone a bit longer, then said, “Deal. Come through lunch tomorrow and I’ll give you the bag in your tray.”

“Thanks. I’ll give you the phone after I have the peanuts.”

Jimin and Minhyuk shook hands, then parted ways. He spent the rest of the day planning how to slip Carl the peanuts without the man wringing his neck. Carl was like an angry bear at a zoo. If anyone came close to him, he’d knock their teeth out. Also, being a maximum security patient, he’d be hard to get to in the first place. There were only so many times minimum and maximum shared spaces in the hospital. He could always pay Minhyuk to slip it to Carl instead, but thinking of it, that outcome would not satisfy him. When Carl came out of solitary, he gloated about what he’d done to Namjoon. Jimin tried not thinking about what he’d heard. 

“Is it true he tried to rape you?” Jimin blurted out during their session. 

The question caught Namjoon in the middle of a recap of their last talk. His wounds had mostly healed, but bits of yellow still covered his eye. “What?” he asked Jimin, stunned by the question. 

“Is it true that Carl tried to...to…” Jimin could not bring himself to say it a second time. “Oh Namjoon, why didn’t you-”

“-He didn’t do anything like that to me. He got a few hits in and so did I,” he interrupted. Jimin saw the annoyance written on the man’s face, “I told you I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, and I thought you’d respect that.”

“I’m sorry, Namjoon, but I needed to know,” he said, sniffing back sudden tears. “I can’t stand it. I can’t stand knowing he could’ve killed you if Phil hadn’t come in when he did. I can’t...Namjoon, he hurt you! Look what he did to your face!”

“I’ve healed up fine, Jimin,” he said, calm in the face of Jimin’s sobbing. “It’s fine. It’s all fine. Carl is being attended by someone else now, and he’s all the way in maximum. He can’t do anything to me.” 

He took both of Jimin’s hands. Jimin loved Namjoon’s hands. He saw the tiny cut on his middle knuckle on his left hand; he rubbed over the larger bruises still visible. Jimin’s small fingertips ran up Namjoon’s long digits, wanting to kiss and hold them. They were the most beautiful hands Jimin had ever seen. “You hit him back?” Jimin asked, admiring Namjoon’s hands. “I saw some bruises on his face too.”

“I threw a punch or two,” he answered. “He might be a mean son-of-bitch, but Carl is as human as the rest of us. He’s just stronger than most of the men he meets.” He rubbed his thumbs across Jimin’s fingers, “I’m fine, Jimin. Don’t worry about me any more. I’m worried more about you.”

“Why?”

“Joyce said you haven’t been eating a lot and you barely sleep. She sees you pacing in your room when she does her nightly rounds,” he said. “What’s bothering you, baby?”

He loved hearing that nickname from Namjoon’s mouth. Jimin met his eyes, seeing the worry and concern in them as they stared back. Namjoon had such a good heart, and Carl had dared to hurt him. “Just been restless,” he finally answered. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

“Oh Jiminie,” he kissed his knuckles again, “Don’t lose sleep over me. Somebody needs to sleep for the both of us,” he snorted. “Have you been writing in your journal?”

“A little bit. Nothing big or important,” he scooted forward to be closer to Namjoon. “What did you say to trigger him?”

Namjoon hesitated, looking back down at their hands. “I asked him about the men who attacked him when he was a little boy. It’s a very sore subject for him to talk about; I thought talking about it might make us both understand his hatred and anger towards people. Instead,” he gulped, “He kept changing the subject back to you.”

“To me?”

“Everybody knows what happened on Halloween, Jimin. They’re not stupid. It’s only because of what I told the director that you’re even here in my office.” He then continued, “He told me he wished he’d caught you on the outside. He, um, he…” Namjoon coughed his discomfort out, but Jimin turned over his hands to rub them comfortingly. “He started telling me all the things he’d do to you if he could. He told me he’d rip your ass in half, and choke you with his…”

Jimin saw Namjoon change in front of him. He saw the kind eyes he loved narrowed and he bit his bottom lip. His eyes blinked rapidly, and he tried keeping his face hidden. Jimin saw his jaw jut forward like it did when Namjoon was upset. “Namjoon?”

“I wanted to kill him,” he seethed. “I wanted to grab a pen and shove it in his beady little eye and watch the blood come out. It’s not like anybody would have cared. He’s a no good son of a bitch and nobody would blame me in the slightest. Shit, they would give me a medal for it…” He met Jimin’s eyes, and suddenly straightened up. “I knew he was just winding me up and getting back at me for bringing up a sensitive subject. I knew he was baiting me, and I gave into it when I shouldn’t have.”

“You’re human, babe,” Jimin assured him. “It happens to the best of us.” He kissed Namjoon gently, “It’s over now. He hasn’t done anything to me. I’m here with you now.”

“Yes…” Namjoon glanced down to his lips, “Yes, you are.” 

He leaned into Jimin and kissed him deeply. Jimin’s arms went around Namjoon’s neck as the other pulled him onto his lap. “I love you so much,” Jimin whispered over his lips between kisses. 

“I love you too,” he muttered back. Their kisses became hungrier, their hands roaming down and underneath clothes. 

“I would do anything for you,” he kissed Namjoon’s jawline, giving the spot a small nip, “I love you more than the air in my lungs. I’ve never felt as close to anyone as I do to you.” He loosened Namjoon’s tie and unbuttoned the top two buttons, wanting access to his warm, tan skin. “You make me feel so good about myself,” he licked a v-shape around Namjoon’s neck, dipping onto his chest before coming back up. “You make me happy. I think I’d die if somebody took you from me.”

Namjoon kissed his lips, “Nobody is taking me from you, Jiminie. Not even God himself could take me from you.”

“No, he couldn’t.” 

They enveloped each other in another deep kiss as Namjoon lifted him up. Jimin realized, as Namjoon settled between his thighs on the couch, that Carl Patz would pay greatly for hurting his boyfriend. 

****

After Minhyuk gave him the peanuts, Jimin waited until Treat Day. It was one of the few times maximum and minimum were around each other. The guards did keep the peace should the maximum patients get rowdy. Surprisingly, both sides kept to themselves a majority of the time. When the day came, he crushed the peanuts in a plastic bowl from arts and crafts, and took them to the recreation room in their plastic wrapper. 

“Jimin, they got us ice cream!” Hoseok beamed, TaeTae under his arm. Jimin noticed him holding a bowl of chocolate for himself and another vanilla one for the bear. No doubt it would just melt or Hoseok would eat it and pretend the bear had. “Chocolate, vanilla, strawberry,” he listed, “They got them all. You better get in line before the good ones get taken.” 

“Okay, thanks Hobi.”

Jimin saw the nurses standing behind the counter, scooping ice cream from tubs in a large kitchen cooler to the patients lining up. He saw the giddiness in some of his fellows, who loved the sweet treats as much as him. It brought him back to the old days. He’d loved seeing the people come into his shop and marvel at all the bright colors inside. People bought his special candy boxes for occasions, completely unaware of what could possibly happen to them if they ate it. They enjoyed his cakes without knowing the danger behind each bite. He liked putting smiles on their faces even if those smiles eventually faded away forever. 

Joining the other patients, he searched around for Carl and found him ahead in line. The person behind him purposefully stayed a few feet away, which pushed the line back considerably. A feeling he thought he’d lost suddenly built up inside him. Namjoon’s love never completely doused the thrill; it simply remained dormant. It was like reliving those good times again. 

“Evening Jimin,” Joyce, an older woman with salt and pepper hair, said when he approached her, “How are we today?”

“Good,” he smiled at her, happiness swelling inside him like a balloon. “I ate all my dinner tonight, and I feel loads better.”

“I’m happy to hear that. Dr. Kim and I were very worried about you,” she said. “Which one do you want, hun?”

He noticed Carl sitting by himself with a bowl of vanilla. “Vanilla, please,” he smiled. 

A small styrofoam bowl of vanilla came into his hands. He saw the toppings offered: sprinkles of chocolate and colors, cookies, chocolate chips and gummy candies. He dusted bits of the cookies on top with chocolate chips. It did look delicious. He imagined Namjoon would’ve gotten chocolate by now. He considered getting a second for them to share, but he knew Joyce would deny him one. He thanked the nurses for their kindness, then moved out of line. Normally, he’d go join Hoseok in the TV room for the movie, but he had other plans. He caught Carl sitting alone at a table, stuffing his ice cream into his mouth. He could eat the whole thing in two bites and get another one just as quickly. Jimin needed to act now. Standing by the drink station, he gently pushed some of the chocolate chips off the top. Lord, he smelled the sweetness and wished to eat it. But no, this was for Carl. Quickly, he dumped the crushed peanuts into the middle, then gently covered them with cookies and chocolate chips. 

“Um, uh, um, hi...Carl,” he approached him timidly. One might have thought Jimin was approaching an active bomb with how he moved. 

“What do you want, pretty boy?” 

“N-n-nothing,” he said. “I just, um, well, um...they ran out of chocolate and gave me va-va-vanilla. I thought you might want it?”

Carl gazed at him for a moment, his stare alone made Jimin uncomfortable. He thought of running away and hiding, but he couldn’t. Not when this man had hurt his Namjoon so badly and would have done worse to him if given the chance. 

“Why?” he asked. 

“Because, um, you like vanilla.”

He smirked, “Vanilla ain’t the only thing I like.” 

Jimin blushed, “That’s okay. I can just give it to, um, give it to somebody else.”

Carl snatched the bowl from Jimin and dug his spoon into the ice cream. “Get out of here,” he growled, “Before I fuck you to death with my fat cock.” 

Jimin did not leave. He stood watching that vanilla bean cream and cookie chips touch Carl’s lips. He watched that thin mouth chew and swallow. Jimin wondered how long it would take for the effect to kick in. He had never used allergies to kill someone before. His special poison mix took anywhere from fifteen minutes to an hour to work, but this was different. He wanted to sit and watch it happen. He wanted to see the allergy work its magic on the brute in front of him. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Carl’s rough voice cut through his thoughts. 

“Nothing…” he answered, calmly staring at him. “I’m just imagining those peanuts sliding down into your gut where they will eventually digest into your system. Then, I imagine your airways will start to close. Your face will swell up and you’ll struggle to breathe.” 

“What?”

“You have a peanut allergy, don’t you?” he felt a smile starting to curl on his face. “I heard yours is pretty severe. You have a special diet and everything because even cross contamination can cause a reaction. What happens to you? Do you choke or shit yourself to death?”

The realization hit Carl right as the reaction did. Jimin walked away before anybody noticed Carl clutching the hardwood table, choking as his throat started closing. Jimin snagged a bowl of chocolate from a table. He sat down on the far side of the room and watched. He laughed softly to himself, eating his sweet treat as Carl stood up, his chair skidding yards away from him. Hospital guards rushed forward and grabbed Carl by the arms, but it was too late…

For Carl. 

Jimin smiled seeing Carl’s eyes bulge out from his skull. He watched him clutch at his throat; his gasping echoed in the room. The tall man crashed around the room, knocking over chairs as the shock came over him. Jimin knew his pulse would eventually quicken the harder it became to breathe. He thought of the fear in Carl’s eyes when he crashed to the floor after tripping. Once the guards subdued him on the floor, Joyce and another nurse hurried over to administer his Epi-pen. Jimin knew it was too late when Carl went limp. The commotion riled up the patients in the room, who began hooting and screaming. It took some time for the nurses and guards to quiet everyone down and usher them into the TV room next door. 

He enjoyed seeing them cart Carl to the infirmary on a stretcher. 

****

Carl Patz died the following morning. Jimin heard about it when he passed the nurses’ station to Namjoon’s office. Joyce and another nurse whispered about the severe reaction taking hold of Carl so quickly, the medicine barely worked. They’d thought he’d be fine after receiving the special dose, but the shock took him out. Jimin hoped it’d been painful. Now, he couldn’t hurt Namjoon. That triumphant feeling of winning the game had filled him on his way to Namjoon’s office. He remembered the times he’d hear on the news that his candies had sickened a whole slew of people; he had felt so accomplished when he had won and they lost. Phil brought him to the office door and escorted him inside. 

“Your two o’clock, Dr. Kim,” said Phil. 

“Thanks, Phil.”

Jimin noticed the quietness in the office today. He saw Namjoon standing by the window. He wore his fitted white shirt and purple tie. It was the same tie he wore the day they’d met. Jimin could never get enough of him in that shirt and tie. Namjoon turned to look at him, but he did not smile. He noticed Namjoon’s jaw clenched and moved forward when he rolled his tongue in his mouth. Jimin sensed something stirring in his mind, and it made him squirm. 

“Namjoon?” he dared to say, “Are you okay?” 

“Carl died this morning.”

“I know. I heard.”

“They say he had an allergic reaction to the ice cream,” he said. “A vanilla one that had chocolate and cookies on it. The nurse who bought it swore the toppings were peanut-free. It said so on the label.”

“Well, you know these big supermarkets lie sometimes.”

“Jimin, don’t lie to me,” he said. He kept his eyes fixed on Jimin as he said, “We talked about this. I told you not to do anything that could get you into trouble.”

“But I didn’t get into trouble. Nobody came and asked me about it.”

“And I’m glad they didn’t, but I know you, Jimin.” He came closer to him, but did not touch him. “I recognize the signs: you've been distracted lately; you haven't been eating or sleeping right, and this happens to occur on Treat Day, your favorite day."

Jimin thought of a lie, but it never passed his lips. “He deserved it," he finally said, "Carl hurt you."

Namjoon wrapped his arms around Jimin and kissed his forehead. Jimin inhaled the fresh scent of his shirt and felt the softness of the fabric on his cheek. Namjoon’s voice vibrated his chest slightly as he spoke:

"I appreciate you going through all that trouble for me," he said, kissing the top of Jimin's head again. "It was sweet of you to try handling it on your own all because of me."

"Try?"

He lifted Jimin's head and kissed him. Jimin melted at the minty taste of his lips, and dived deeper into their warmth. He whimpered softly when Namjoon's hands smoothed down his back to his bottom and squeezed gently. Jimin pressed himself into Namjoon, who groaned into his mouth at the slight touch. He began untucking the crisp shirt while Namjoon felt underneath his shirt, brushing a thumb over his nipple as he did.

"Let me show you," he said between kisses, "How appreciative I am of you."

They crashed onto the sofa where Namjoon slid between his thighs once more. Heat spread from his cheeks to his neck, feeling Namjoon's lips leave his for his chest. Gentle, soft fingers rolled circles around his nipples while warm lips kissed down his front. Jimin trembled as Namjoon’s tongue slowly rolled around each nipple, causing tightness between his thighs immediately.  Namjoon slid his shirt up to his neck, exposing his chest and stomach as he continued kissing down. Being this close to him, feeling Namjoon’s hands and lips on his body, made Jimin feel so complete. Sparks of ecstasy came before his eyes as Namjoon slipped down his pants and underwear, revealing the semi-hard cock underneath. 

“Such a pretty boy,” the doctor moaned, kissing up Jimin’s thighs from his knees. Warm hands pushed then spread him open, revealing his center to Namjoon. “I’ve hardly touched you,” he said, pecking his lips across his hips and the dips of his pelvis, “And look at you.” 

Jimin’s cock twitched again when Namjoon kissed right above the base. The sensitive muscle grew harder having the man so close to it, kissing and licking everywhere around it. He massaged the outer parts of his thighs, planting more kisses on the inner sides before reaching to his member again. Jimin melted once Namjoon wrapped his hand around the shaft and slowly stroked. His eyes fell closed as he felt shivers of pleasure tighten the ball inside him; 

Namjoon continued kissing where he could while he stroked gently. The feather-like touches and kisses left Jimin wanting more. Reaching into Namjoon’s dark hair, he guided him towards the throbbing, reddening tip. Namjoon chuckled at his eagerness, but did not stop him. He gave the tip a soft kiss before a long, slow lick. When Jimin whined, Namjoon continued circling his tongue on the underside now standing fully up in front of him. Jimin could feel exactly where the tip of his tongue went along his length, and it drove him insane. Namjoon knew this. Jimin could tell that he knew. He bit his bottom lip once that warm mouth latched onto his tip. 

“Namjoonie…” Jimin muttered, squirming as small suckles made his back arch. “That feels...God, that feels so good.”

“I know, baby,” he groaned between licks. “You’re such a sweetheart,” he sunk his mouth further down Jimin’s cock, sucking a bit harder so Jimin could feel it. “You took care of him for me like that,” he sucked beneath him again, “when you could have gotten in so much trouble.”

“I-I did it because I lo-l-love you,” he whispered, pushing his hips towards Namjoon. “I’d do any-anything for you.”

“And I would for you.” 

Hearing those words made Jimin smile. Nobody treated him the way Namjoon treated him: gentle and caring. He watched Namjoon take him all the way to the hilt, and Jimin couldn’t take it anymore. He carefully began thrusting his hips upwards into Namjoon’s mouth, pushing all the way inside even if it made the doctor gag. The need for release became too great to focus on anything but chasing after his orgasm. Namjoon didn’t seem to mind, staying still as Jimin used him. The pleasure heightened when Jimin felt soft fingers cup his balls and rub very gently. His fingers tightened in Namjoon’s hair. 

His breath quickened, making his chest rise and fall in each breath, and the desire directed his body upwards. But still, it did not feel enough. He wanted more. Namjoon sensed the urgency in him, and sucked harder. Jimin looked down to see his dark, sultry eyes gazing back up at him. They admired his flushed cheeks and parted lips. They told Jimin how much Namjoon wanted him. He’d met people who had desired him; people who only wanted his body and nothing else. Seeing Namjoon kiss back up his body, undoing his pants as he did so, he knew Namjoon loved him for more than that. 

“Do you want me to?” he asked Jimin before passionately kissing him. 

“Yes...Yes, please,” he mumbled between kisses. “So much. Please.”

Namjoon reached over him to the side table next to the sofa, opening the drawer to pull out a single-use package of lubricant. Jimin giggled, “Have fun when I’m not around, Doctor?”

“Never,” he briefly kissed him, tearing the small package open. “I save it all for you.” 

Jimin blushed, then watched Namjoon coat the lubricant on his length. “Let me,” he told him, spreading the lube all over Namjoon. He sighed seeing Namjoon tilt his head back as he groaned deeply. “Gosh, you’re so big,” Jimin moaned, feeling it throb in his palm, “I always feel you for days afterwards.”

“That’s the idea,” he smirked in a breathy laugh. 

He spread the last bits of lubricant on Jimin’s entrance. The new sensation aroused him further. The excitement surged when Namjoon pressed himself to the tight ring. He prepared himself for the breach, anticipating the pain and pleasure Namjoon would give him. Distracting Jimin with a deep kiss, he slowly slid inside inch by inch. Jimin admitted the first plunge always twinged a bit, but he knew he’d get accustomed to it easily. He wrapped his legs around Namjoon’s waist to keep him close each time he thrusted inward. 

Pure bliss blossomed between them when they pressed chest-to-chest. Jimin’s arms went around Namjoon’s neck, trapping him there and keeping their lips together. The waves of pleasure crashing through them brought out streams of pet names, sweet nothings and moans. Jimin had never felt more alive. He felt all the safety and comfort the man had given him. He pushed himself down into the hips bottoming up to him. He needed Namjoon as deep as he could get him. He almost did not care who heard them; he wanted them to know that Namjoon loved him and he loved Namjoon. 

It did not take long for Namjoon to hit his prostate, where he saw stars and fireworks. His body tightened and clenched as his climax approached. Namjoon saw the signs and moved faster, angling his hips the way Jimin liked. Jimin continued bouncing onto the long cock pounding him into insanity. He could feel Namjoon’s balls slap onto his ass, which only aroused him further. He needed as much of Namjoon as he could get at that moment. 

“You want me to fill you, don’t you?” Namjoon groaned in his ear, that deep voice sending shivers down his spine. “You want to walk out of here with my cum dripping out of you, don’t you? That’s why you’re pushing down on me like that. You want to milk out all my cum with that tight ass, huh?”

“Yes,” he breathed, “Yes, Namjoon, fill me, please. I love it when you cum inside me. It feels so good when you cum deep and hard in my ass.”

“Oh yeah?” he knelt up, wrapping his arms around Jimin’s legs and bringing them over his shoulder. The new position gave him a direct angle for him to touch Jimin’s prostate, “Then make me cum. Come on, pretty boy, make your doctor cum in you...make me shoot my load all the way inside.”

Namjoon’s dirty talk sent him over the edge. Streams of white shot onto his stomach and chest. His knuckles turned white from gripping the couch underneath him, and his body tensed when his orgasm hit. But, even as he reached his peak, he pushed Namjoon onto his back and waited for him to settle against the pillows before riding him. His hands on either side of Namjoon’s head, he bounced himself on the pulsating, wet cock in his bottom. 

“Cum in me, Joonie,” he pleaded in a whine, “Please, cum inside me. I want you to fill me up and make me yours.”

It took a minute for Namjoon’s hands to grip Jimin’s hips and guide him the way he wanted. Finally, Jimin felt that familiar hot sensation that came with Namjoon’s orgasms. His jaw dropped seeing the tanned, toned abdomen tense and his full lips part into an O-shape as he came. He loved watching Namjoon completely unravel in front of him. It reminded him of their first time that Halloween night. It made him love Namjoon even more. 

Coming down from their highs, Jimin laid on top of Namjoon to catch his breath. He did not want to move. He did not want to leave Namjoon ever. Placing delicate kisses on Namjoon’s neck, he realized how worth the trouble and risk of killing Carl was. Namjoon was worth all the trouble in the world. 

“I love you,” Namjoon whispered to him, rubbing Jimin’s back and kissing his cheek. “I love you more than the moon loves the sun,” he said, “more than bees love pollen. You might’ve done a bad thing killing Carl, but knowing you love me that much...I just love you.”

“I love you too,” he beamed. “I’d do it again and again and again. You mean so much to me. I adore you, Namjoon. I’d do anything for you.”

“And I’d do anything for you.” He held the back of Jimin’s neck and kissed him softly, their tongues brushing together. “Even making sure Carl was actually dead.”

Jimin paused in the next kiss. He propped himself up over Namjoon and asked, “What do you mean?”

“An allergic reaction isn’t a guaranteed death,” he said. “They would’ve administered the Epi-pen that would’ve saved him from dying.”

“Namjoon...What did you do?”

Namjoon moved to open his mouth, but then a knock on the door caused them to jump apart. Phil’s voice came over the other side, telling him that the session was over and Jimin needed to be elsewhere. Jimin thought about poisoning the guard’s coffee for a second before he slid off and straightened himself again. 

“Don’t worry about what I did,” Namjoon assured him, zipping up his pants and kissing Jimin’s forehead. “You just focus on getting better, okay?”

Jimin looked over his lover again. Something in him seemed different now. Yes, he was still the loveable boyfriend Jimin knew, but darkness lurked behind those sweet eyes. It was a darkness Jimin knew well, and he beamed at him. 

“Okie,” he said, kissing Namjoon one more time, “See you Wednesday.”

“Wednesday. Love you.”

“Love you too.” 

Jimin opened the door and grinned at Phil, who ushered him away from the door. His spirits lifted, feeling his and Namjoon’s connection strengthen. His mind flooded with things Namjoon could have done to Carl. Perhaps he should’ve left Carl alone; that way Namjoon could have handled it himself. He’d love to hear all about it at their next meeting. 

He wanted to know everything about Namjoon. 

*****

Namjoon had felt guilty keeping the truth from Jimin. He adored the young man so much, it pained him to lie. Namjoon knew Jimin must’ve felt proud to get away with another murder; he’d originally planned on never telling the truth because he’d hate to crush Jimin’s accomplishment. But, when Jimin looked at him so lovingly, he could not lie. 

When he heard that Carl went to the infirmary for a severe allergic reaction, Namjoon knew exactly who was responsible. Hearing Carl ingested raw peanuts sounded odd to him. He knew for a fact that Carl, despite his size and personality, feared death. The thought of his life ending and the world going black terrified him, which is why he fought so hard to stay alive even if he hated it. So, he desperately avoided things that might kill him, such as his peanut allergy. Namjoon recalled the man recounting a story where he’d been force fed peanut butter as a child by cruel caretakers of his reform school. He would’ve died if the nurses hadn’t found him in time. 

He should have known Jimin might take matters into his own hands. He had specifically told Jimin to stay out of it; he could get caught and sent to a real prison. But, knowing Jimin, the thought would eat at him. This left Namjoon waiting until Jimin’s plan revealed itself. He’d anticipated a chemical poisoning or perhaps a terrible accident. Though, of course, Jimin was in a hospital where he had little access to chemicals, and Jimin preferred using natural methods such as the ricin he’d sprayed on his store sweets. When he heard it was the peanut allergy, Namjoon knew the allergy might not take Carl. 

And it didn’t. Joyce told him Carl would live but they kept him for observation. This meant that Carl, once his throat opened up more, could out Jimin as his poisoner. If not that, then he’d certainly retaliate. Having been at the end of Carl’s hammer-like fists, he knew the damage Carl could inflict on his petite Jimin. Namjoon could not, and would not, let that happen. Jimin was his whole world. He’d grown incredibly fond of Jimin, even when he had tried to fight the feelings to maintain their friendly relationship. But, after the night Jimin was recaptured, things changed between them. He had finally felt free to express himself to someone. Dr. Burgess always gave him a listening ear, but he kept his position professional and as a psychologist, not as a friend like Jimin. 

Sitting back on his couch, taking deep breaths as the exhaustion hit him, he thought back to Carl again. Dr. Burgess worried the attack might trigger Namjoon’s not-so-friendly side, but Namjoon assured him that his ‘twin’ stayed silent. However, he might’ve fibbed when he said it. 

‘I’d love to tear that little ass of his up. I bet I could break him in half if I went hard enough; I could probably choke him with my cock if I go deep enough.’ He could hear Carl’s rough voice spit out in his mind. ‘He’s no different than the others. Then I’d get my cock in you, Doc. I could break you both so easily.’

‘I’d prefer if we stayed on topic here, Carl. Why don’t we talk about why you assault the men you come across? Is it because you’re getting back at the men who hurt you when you were younger-” 

‘-I’d destroy him first though. I’d fuck him raw and hard-’

‘-Ca-C-Carl…-”

“-He’d be screaming for me to stop. He’d cry and beg, and I’d keep fucking him until I’d ripped a hole-’

‘-YOU’RE NOT GONNA DO SHIT TO HIM YOU MOTHERFUCKING SON OF A GODDAMN WHORE!-’

‘-What did you say you little-’

Namjoon flinched remembering the moment before he blacked out. Try as he might, he could not remember what happened. He just remembered waking up in the hospital in deep pain and groggy from his relapse. That was what Burgess called it: a relapse. He kept Namjoon in the hospital for a few days, strapped to his bed as Joyce tended to him. He thanked God everyday for the kind nurse; she’d been working at the hospital since it opened in the 50’s. She knew all its secrets, including Namjoon’s. 

‘You gave us quite a scare when you came in,’ she’d told him when she fed him his medication. ‘You were ranting and shouting. You called poor Phil every name in the book when he brought you in here.’ 

He did feel the humiliation of the attack afterwards. He was a doctor. He was supposed to be able to control himself, especially with his medications. But, he couldn’t stand hearing someone like Carl talk about hurting Jimin. . It didn’t help that he doesn’t recall the night Carl went into the infirmary either. 

Namjoon shut his eyes and focused on what he’d been doing that night: he’d been finishing up some papers and planned on going home that night. He recalled the pen in his hand and his lamp being the only light in the room. He’d been making notes in a patient report when he saw his face in a window reflection. He’d healed up pretty okay, with minor bruises left on his cheek and jaw. 

Somehow, the thought of Jimin in his position popped into his mind then. Carl could certainly kill Jimin with a few good hits. He’d remembered the threats Carl had made that day. What if Carl made good on them and brutally attacked Jimin? Namjoon could not live with himself if that happened. Jimin was so special to him. Jimin meant the world to him. If Jimin ceased to walk the earth, there’d be no point in being there. 

After that, he remembered nothing. Namjoon sat in his office, exhausted and drunk off of Jimin still, and forced himself to remember something, anything. The only memory he conjured was afterwards when he found himself in his room back home. He’d gotten all the way home without knowing it. No. No, he knew. He knew because when he found himself standing in his living room, he found a post-it note on the coffee table. 

‘You finished Carl,’ was written in joined up handwriting, nothing like his own. Namjoon’s stomach dropped at the idea. 

The thought of killing Carl might’ve been a fantasy of his, but he’d certainly never carry it out. Murder was illegal, and he’d be locked up in the hospital for good if they caught him. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, head in his hands, and he took deep breaths. He felt like a hypocrite. Namjoon always told his patients that the murders they’d committed were wrong, but here he’d done the same. 

No. Not him. This was not his fault. He’d done nothing wrong. It’d been Namu. Namjoon did not like acknowledging his other personality, but he knew the other was there. Namjoon took more deep breaths, trying to settle his nerves. He prayed that nobody saw anything. He prayed Namu had not done anything too crazy. 

Crazy? Namu never did anything ‘crazy’. He did things that were justifiable. He rapidly blinked his eyes as he found himself in the office. Namu rested back on the couch, his mind swarmed with visions of Jimin. Those last few minutes he was deep inside felt holy. He loved knowing he’d made such an infamous murderer a whimpering, pleading mess on his couch. Namu had never loved someone the way he loved Jimin. He adored him. He truly would do anything for the person who made his heart melt. 

Including killing Carl Patz. He’d waited until the nurse had left Carl’s room that night. Carl was lying on the bed, strapped down tightly, and slowly falling asleep. Namu noted the machines they’d attached him to so they could monitor him. How bad had his reaction been that they kept him overnight? All that happens is the windpipe closes and he loses a bit of air. Then again, Carl was incredibly allergic according to the reports. Carl noticed him walk in, and glared. 

‘Ha! I knew you’d come back! Come for round two, pussy? Let me out of here and I’ll knock your ass back to the ground, then fu-’

‘-Oh shut up, you miserable fuck. I’m done listening to you go on and on about how much you hate life and how badly you’re going to rape me because you’re a sad sack of shit.’ Namu remembered the words stunning Carl into silence for once. ‘I’m done listening to you brag about all the arson, theft, rape, and murder you’ve done. You act like it’s something to be proud of. I could handle it before because it was mostly towards me and other patients or people you didn’t like, but then...then you decided you’d talk about my Jimin and...and I can’t have that.’ 

‘That twisted fucker is the one that put me in this damn bed.’

‘I know, and normally I’d apologize on his behalf and give you hush money, but money can’t buy people like you.’ 

The fear in Carl’s eyes when he withdrew the syringe made him smile. Even now, sitting in the office with his shirt still askew and tie loosened, he smiled. He’d taken the monitor they stuck onto Carl’s finger, the one that records his heart-beat and pulse, and put it onto his own. It only took a small pinch to the IV for the bubble to go through. Namu stuck around to see Carl begin thrashing, but the sock stuffed in his mouth muffled his cries. The very thing Carl feared finally came, and Carl Patz died right in front of him. A wave of satisfaction came over seeing the man begin stiffening before his eyes. Of course, Namu left the room before anyone could see him. Then he drove home knowing Jimin was safe. 

“Namjoon?” a voice cut through his thoughts, and he saw Dr. Burgess poked his head in the door. “May I come in?”

The world came back to him hazily. “Um, yeah. Yeah, you can.”

Dr. Steven Burgess had been treating him since he was first admitted into the hospital at  nineteen. His black outs were far worse when he was younger, but he supposed talk therapy and his medications helped ease his moods. Namjoon straightened up in his seat, fixing his messy hair as the doctor took a chair in front of him. He tried shaking off the groggy feeling inside him. Burgess put a clipboard in his lap, crossed one leg over the other, and looked at him. 

“How are we feeling today, Joon? You look a bit flustered.”

“Oh, I’m fine. Jimin was just here, and we’d gone outside. It’s hot today, that’s all. Don’t worry about me.” 

“Have you been having any more black outs since we talked?” he asked, “Has Namu made an appearance at all?”

Namu was Japanese for tree, and his mother called him that because he was stubborn as one. Namjoon could never remember anything Namu did, but it normally ended in blood and pain. Burgess told him Namu was normally triggered by Namjoon’s negative moods such as rage. It’d happened more when he was bullied as a teenager, and he usually found it hard to keep his emotions in check. But then they met Jimin. Jimin brought so much peace and comfort that Namu was kept at bay. Namjoon often worried he might switch personalities right in front of Jimin, and Namu would hurt him. But the only times he did, Namu ravaged Jimin on his couch. 

He supposed his other personality loved Jimin too. 

He hoped Jimin understood why he’d lied. He’d done it to protect him and what they shared. Burgess and the hospital directors only allowed their relationship because of Namjoon’s condition. Since having his license taken away a few years ago, Namjoon was allowed to keep playing psychologist for his treatment. Helping others and focusing on work helped keep his emotions down, and distracted him from the negative. 

He typically saw more difficult patients who the other doctors did not want; Jimin happened to be one of them. The male doctors said Jimin became easily attached, obsessive and delusional. The female doctors could not get a word out of him. They thought some sessions with Namjoon might help treat those behaviors, but Burgess frowned when he learned Jimin and Namjoon fell in love instead. Separating them now might become dangerous for themselves or people around them.  

Namjoon didn’t know what he’d do if Jimin was forced away from him; not after the other man brought him so much joy and comfort. The hospital could be so cold and unfeeling; with Jimin, it was a bright, warm place where he could be with someone who truly loved him. 

“Bonjour eomma,” Namjoon smiled, answering his phone, “How’s Paris?”

“Dreadful. We’ve lost one of our models and can’t find a replacement. Our DJ hasn’t shown up yet to set up, the lighting cues are off and rehearsal is going through a second run. Lucas misplaced the chiffon-diamond dress and I can’t find the shoes for it,” she replied. “The show is in six hours, Joonie.”

“I’m sure you’ll find all that before then,” he said. 

“And how are you, sweetheart? You didn’t call me on your lunch break.”

“I was busy with, um, interviews. They went longer than I thought.”

“Interviews? For what?”

“Interns. One of ours quit, so I’ve been looking for someone to replace him.”

“Honey bear, can’t you get along with three? All they do is file papers, make coffee and ask ‘need anything else, Mr. Kim?’. You don’t need a whole staff for that.”

“I need four…makes an even number.”

He heard the sigh she held back. “How are your sessions going? I hope you’re actually talking to Dr. Young and not sitting in complete silence.”

Dr. Young. Professional psychiatrist with several awards, certificates and degrees. His mother insisted he see one after the family reunion last year. She had he’d appeared so withdrawn and emotionless around his family. He told her it had nothing to do with his cousins, uncles, or aunts. It was Him. His father. Everything about the man made Namjoon tighten up. His deep voice, his cold eyes, and the words behind them. Oh his words are the worst part about him. ‘You know, Eleanor’s son just graduated from Cambridge University. He’s getting married this fall.’ ‘Derek Jung is the same age as you and already has a wife and son. He’s also just landed a deal with a group of wealthy English investors. What’s the point in being fluent in English if we have no English-speaking clients?’ 

“She’s been helpful.”

Dr. Young broke through him somehow. He guessed she’d started with the family he does love: his mother, sister and grandmother. She said Namjoon needed more social interaction despite having friends he can talk to. She insisted he try finding a roommate maybe or meeting new people. Namjoon is bad at both. 

“That’s good.”

“So, you’re saying there’s something wrong with me and I need help.”

“No, I am not saying that. I suggested it to you because there’s a lot going on with you, Namjoonie. You’re so anxious all the time; you hardly ever go out. You live like your father.”

“No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do. You both live by a tight schedule, are ruled by your work and are obsessed with orderliness. I don’t…I don’t want you to end up like him. I want you to smile more. You have such a sweet smile and those cute little dimples make people melt.”

“Eomma…”

“I mean it. You should find someone who will make you happy. I only want you to be happy. I want you to have all the happiness in the world; you deserve it. You and your sister both.” 

He smiled softly. “I know.”

“Anita has a friend coming from Hong Kong,” she added. “I can set you up with him. He’s very handsome and successful. He owns one of the biggest shipping companies there.”

“I’m not interested.” 

It started as a joke. He’d gone out to lunch with Yoongi and Jin and told them about Dr. Young’s advice. He’d considered a roommate, but how does one go about that sort of relationship? What if he didn’t like them? He can’t simply kick someone out onto the street. Yoongi then joked that perhaps he should get a ‘sugar baby’. Pretty men and women who will be his companion in exchange for money. They’re bound by contract which he can cancel at any time. All he needs to do is be nice and get them gifts. At least, from what he’d seen from them. Yoongi absolutely spoiled Jungkook, buying him designer clothes and camera equipment. Jin spent nearly all his time with Taehyung and showered him with affection. Namjoon can be nice; he has no problem giving gifts. He gets his social interaction and not need to be attached. He even made it a rule. 

It’s the perfect situation.

“Well, your sister’s wedding is in January,” she moved on from the subject. “Should we put you for a plus one?”

He thought about Jimin. Should he take him? What if they didn’t last long? What if he finally realizes how weird Namjoon is and leaves like the others? They’d just met. “Maybe. I don’t know yet.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ and put one down …oh thank God! Yes! Lucas found the dress, baby, I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“Love you, honey bear.”

“Love you.”

He heard the buzz of the fashion world suddenly die. He realized it was four-fifteen. He’ll be late if he didn’t hurry. 

*****

It’s five-thirty. Jimin isn’t home. Where the hell did he go? He’d told Namjoon he was in the apartment when he’d called earlier. Namjoon comes home to find it empty. Their reservation is for six-ten. It takes only ten minutes to get to Toshi’s. Knee bouncing, Namjoon sat in the living room staring at the ugly pink gift bag in front of him. Jimin took the card, it seemed. He must’ve gone shopping, but how long does that take? He got off the phone with him at three-fifty-seven. Jimin is pretty; getting ready to go out takes a while for pretty people. They’ll be late. 

His head perked up when the door opened. Jimin walked in with several bags on each arm. He recognized the furniture store brands. 

“Oh hey,” Jimin grinned at him, putting his sunglasses on his head, “You’re back.”

“I told you I’d be home by five. We have dinner reservations for six-ten. You never told me you’d be going out, otherwise I’d changed the time,” Namjoon tried keeping it together. “Now, we’ll be late if you don’t hurry and get changed.”

“Don’t worry so much. It’s only five-thirty-two,” said Jimin. “I get changed quick.”

“Good. I already took the liberty of picking out your outfit for you.”

“You what?”

“I wanted you to look nice on our first dinner together.” He saw the confusion on Jimin’s face, “Does that bother you? You can always pick something else. I thought perhaps it’ll make things easier for you. Then we won’t be so late.”

“It’s not like they’ll cancel our reservation because we’re a minute or two late.” Jimin turned to the stairs and left him. The tension knotted up in his shoulders. It’s Jisung this time. Jisung never cared about being on time either.  

“It doesn’t matter if they do or not,” called Namjoon from the bottom of the stairs. “It’s the principal of the thing. If you make plans, you should be courteous and be on time. It’s called having proper manners.” 

“I lost track of time at the store. I’m sorry, alright?” 

“How long were you there? How many things could you possibly need that warrant being gone so long? I got off the phone with you two hours ago and you’re just getting home now.”

“This place has absolutely no color, no texture, and is boring to look at,” Jimin replied back. “I wanted to get things in the right color scheme so it looks nice. Sorry for wanting to spruce up the place.”

“You couldn’t have gone tomorrow when there’s more time?”

“There wasn’t much to do after I unpacked.” Jimin remained quiet for a while, then said, “I’m sorry for being late. I should have called you and told you I’d be.”

“Good. You’re forgiven.”

At least he apologizes. Jisung threw tantrums whenever Namjoon became upset; he’d try turning it around and saying Namjoon is too uptight. He’s not “uptight”. There’s nothing wrong with him. He’s fine. It’s normal to be this way. 

‘He’s always been a bit odd. When he was a boy, he used to organize his toys by usage and age recommendation’.

He shook his father’s voice out of his head and sat back down. Dr. Young says there isn’t anything wrong with a bit of order, but he should try relaxing. That’s the whole point of this social interaction nonsense, isn’t it? So he can relax? If that’s true, then why did he feel more wound up than ever? He’s gone out with people before; it’s not an issue. He continued bouncing between checking the time and looking at the top landing. He’d picked out the outfit for him. What’s taking so long? Maybe Jimin is upset by what he said. Why? He’s the one that was late. Namjoon took another deep breath as a surge of annoyance came up his spine. 

“I’m ready now.” 

It was five-forty-two when Jimin came back downstairs. “You’re not wearing what I picked out,” said Namjoon. 

He’d picked out a nice black suit and white shirt for Jimin to wear. Instead, Jimin came down with a navy blue blazer lined in red and white over a striped sweater of the same colors. The shark on the pocket gave a sailor vibe combined with his light blue jeans. “I know. I didn’t like it, so I picked out something for myself. Don’t you like it?”

“You’re wearing jeans and sneakers to a fancy restaurant?”

“Psh, Toshi’s isn’t that fancy,” Jimin rolled his eyes. “It’s casual-dressy. I see lots of people wear stuff like this over there. Also, black and white is boring. I like a bit of color.”

“I can see that.”

“Plus, your rules never said anything about you picking out clothes for me,” he added. 

“You’re right.” He’d hoped Jimin might stick to the plan in his head and wear the outfit. He bit the inside of his lip and said, “Let’s get going. We’ll be late. Chaewon is already downstairs.”

The pair got into the elevator and he pressed the lobby button. They stood in silence for a good while, but then Jimin asked, “How did work go?”

“Fine. I managed to pay all your clients off,” he said. “It’s funny that some of them willingly gave you up. I offered one man-Howie, you called him?-a pretty big amount of money and he said to keep it.”

“He did?”

“Yeah. He said something about his wife finding out about you and how he can’t see you anymore anyways. He said he’d wire the check from your weekend trip to you soon. Probably when his wife isn’t looking at his bank statements anymore. I don’t see why it matters anyways. It’s about the money with you guys, right? Howie clearly saw it that way.”

He caught sight of Jimin’s frown in the elevator reflection. Why’s he upset? Shouldn’t he be used to that sort of behavior? “Did you like him?”

Jimin stayed silent a moment, looking away from the door. “No. He’s a client. I’m paid to pretend I like him.”

“As it should be. I mean, you’re living and going out to dinner with me because I paid you, not because you seriously want to.”

Because who would? The last person who willingly went out with him didn’t answer his calls afterwards. He told Namjoon-once he did answer-that they’re not ‘compatible’. Namjoon knew what that meant: ‘You’re too weird for me’. He’d only wanted the date to be perfect. He’d set up an itinerary so they can enjoy themselves. Yoongi told him having a basic plan is fine, but mapping out a time table? It’s off putting to some people. Everything about him is off putting. It’s why Jimin will eventually leave. He can already tell. Maybe they rushed into this too fast. He should have given Jimin time to think things over. 

They reached the bottom floor and got into the car. Sitting apart, he wondered if he should reach for Jimin’s hand. He should comfort him, right? That’s what people do for someone who’s upset. But what if Jimin doesn’t like that? “Jimin-”

“-You know something,” he faced Namjoon in his seat which made Namjoon nervous. 

“-Jimin, you should put on your seatbelt and sit properly. You can get hurt if we crash-”

“-I don’t get you.”

“Well, nobody does. That’s why I’m buying a boyfriend instead of looking for one actively.”

“I looked around your apartment. Don’t worry, I didn’t go to your side of the house,” he rolled his eyes. “You label your tupperwares. All your furniture is symmetrically and strategically placed. Everything is spotless and white. It looks like nobody even lives there. Why have such a big place if you’re rarely ever there?”

“I like the view and it’s next to the park. I also like the garden area outside my room for my plants. I go jogging on Sunday mornings, so the park is ideal for that.”

“The building has a gym and pool.”

“Too many people there in the morning.”

“And there’s nobody in the park in the morning?”

“Nobody who will stop and talk to me.”

“You don’t like your neighbors then?”

“I don’t know them. How can I not like them if I don’t know them?”

“You also have a schedule sheet in your kitchen. Not even just a calendar. It’s a notepad with your schedule on it.”

“So you know where I am and what I’m doing.”

“Why would I care about that?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to know where you are.”

“Again, why?”

“Because it’s what my grandma used to do for me. She liked knowing where I was, who I was with and when I’d be back so she knew I was safe. I’m not being controlling or invasive. You don’t have to tell me what you’re doing. I just like to know where you are in case something happens to you.”

Jimin relaxed in his seat, slightly stunned. “I know…” Namjoon took a deep breath, “I know I might seem strange to you. I’m strange to everybody. It’s natural to be curious, so if you have any questions, you can…you can ask me.” Jimin is still sitting sideways facing him with his body. Chaewon is a good driver, but other people aren’t. He wished he’d put on the belt at least.  

“You lived with your grandma then? What about your parents? Did your sister live with you too?”

Namjoon gripped his knees. Ah Nari… “You found her Instagram?”

“She’s not hard to find. She’s pretty popular. Plus, you have pictures of you guys in your apartment.”

“Very popular. Always has been,“ he hardly noticed his grip on his knees. "Will you please sit correctly now? And put on your seatbelt, please?”

Jimin did as he asked, seeing Namjoon relax in his seat slightly. If only slightly. “But, you lived with your grandma?”

“She lived with us. My mom said she didn’t like the idea of a stranger taking care of us when she was away.”

“And your dad?”

“He didn’t care much.”

“So, she’s your mom’s mom?”

“She’s from my mother’s side of the family, yes.”

Jimin is seeing right through him. The boy has a gift. Jimin learned all these things simply from searching around the house. Not that it’s unexpected. He’ll be living with him, so he should know. He coughed awkwardly, and said, "What about you? Do you have any siblings or anything like that?”

“Oh no, I’m an only child.”

“That’s interesting. Your parents must have spoiled you rotten,” he gave a nervous laugh. Toshi’s is ten minutes away, but it felt like an eternity 

“I can’t say for my dad, but my mom didn’t. She didn’t have the money to.” He then continued, “I like to think she would have if we lived a different life. She says she wished she’d become a sugar baby like me when she was young. She could have given me all the stuff she never got to have.” 

“So you’re from a poor family then?”

The words hit Jimin again, but he said nothing this time. “I guess you can say that. We got by better than most families. She gets a good check and a good amount of tips, but that only stretches so far.”

“What does she do?”

“She’s a dancer.”

“What kind? Ballet?”

“No, exotic.”

“She’s a stripper?”

“She likes to say exotic dancer.”

“Hm, then my cousin Eddie is a exotic pharmacist.”

Jimin narrowed his eyes, “Not all of us can have fashion designers for moms, you know. It’s not the most elegant or proper of jobs, but it puts food on her table.”

He’s offended him again. He never gets anything right, does he? “I’m sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t judge. But, is she the reason you like dancing?”

“Kind of. She used to practice her moves in this dance place with girls from work. I’d sneak out to see the ballet classes down the hall. The girls there danced so elegantly and graceful compared to the kind of dancing my mom did. I wanted to be like them; to be free to express myself and lose myself in music, you know? She put me in the tap dances because they were cheaper than ballet, but once I started making money, I paid for ballet classes. My mom didn’t want me to be a stripper either, so I became a real dancer.”

“What sort of jobs can you get with dancing anyways? I can’t imagine any beyond maybe ballet.”

“I can be a dance teacher or a choreographer. I can work behind the scenes as maybe a stage manager or costume designer. There’s a lot more work than people realize.” 

“Sir, we’ve arrived,” Chaewon said from the front. 

Thank God! Namjoon checked his watch, “Five-fifty-two. Thankfully I have a permanent reservation.”

“Hold on,” Jimin called, “You have a permanent reservation here? You have a reservation that won’t be given up regardless of being on time or not?”

“Yes. I’m friends with the owner.”

“And you complained about me being late coming home when it didn’t matter either way?”

“It does matter. I like being on time. I don’t understand why that’s a bad thing. Now, come on.”

Jimin is a little rougher than the others, Namjoon saw. Walking through Toshi’s paper and wood doors, he realized Jimin is the challenge Dr. Young will accept. She’ll tell him it’s good to have an opposing force in his life. He can’t always be surrounded by yes-men. His previous sugar babies pretended to like his rules and went along for a time. Then he got “too demanding” and “unfair”. How is this being unfair? What’s wrong with having a structured lifestyle?

“Evening, Mr. Kim,” the hostess recognized him when he came to the front. “Table for one?”

“Table for two actually,” he nodded to Jimin who stood behind him. 

“Ah okay,” she nodded, putting it down in her book. “You’re just in time. Your table is ready as usual. Follow me.”

Toshi’s Sushi Restaurant and Bar is Jin’s first personal business. He bought it after the bank seized it from the original owners. Kim Seokjin comes from a line of wealthy entrepreneurs and landowners, so he easily negotiated for a cheaper price. They’re not old money like Namjoon’s family, but they are well-respected still. He gave the place an “oriental” vibe by displaying a Japanese mural stretching from one end of the place to the other. Paper lanterns gave light to the black tables below. There’s normal height tables for people sitting more comfortably, but people could choose the lower tables and sit on the ground. Jimin said he’d come here once already, so he must’ve liked it. Namjoon hoped so anyways. 

“Here you go, Mr. Kim,” she showed him to his table next to the windows. Outside, Namjoon’s table viewed the zen garden outside. Colorful flowers, trees and a small koi pond took the center outdoor area. “Here is your usual menu,” she handed him a special menu. Namjoon preferred choosing from a small selection of his favorites, rather than the extensive regular menu. It kept things short and simple, “And will your guest be needing a food menu?”

“Um, yeah. Thank you,” Jimin nodded as she handed him one. 

“Sarah will be with you in a second, sir.”

“Thank you, Amanda.”

When left their table, Namjoon opened his menu. Did Jimin like wine? Maybe he’s prefers sake to go with his meal? Perhaps soju instead? 

“They have brandy here,” Jimin spoke first. “They have that brand you carry in your bar. Do you normally get that?”

“How’d you…?”

“I looked under and found your stash. You have other drinks, but you mostly drink from the brandy bottle. I’m not judging you. It’s a good after-dinner drink. I’m assuming you drink fancy wines too, since there’s a small shelf behind the bar.” 

“You were quite thorough in your search.”

“I like to know things about my clients before they tell me. It helps me to service them better.” He turned a page in the menu, “I’ll be fine with whatever you pick.” 

Namjoon gulped. Had he found The Room in his search? It’s in his part of the apartment, so maybe he’d gone out of curiosity. Namjoon rarely has guests over, and when he does they stay in the downstairs guest room. At first, he’d disguised it as a normal room. Though as his interest grew, he began buying more items. Most of his sex toys sat in labeled containers in the chest. His whips and restraints hung in the wardrobe by the door. There’s a bathroom to wash up in afterwards too. The best part is the bed. He’s positive Jimin will recognize what kind of bed it is once he sees it. His other lovers didn’t. He’d caught them off guard when he removed half the footboard to show acted as a stock for their head and hands. Yoongi joked he’s like Christian Grey but without the abusive, stalkerish behavior. He’d started out honestly: telling them his likes and dislikes, making sure they understood his hard stops or boundaries. He’d talked to them about theirs too. Communication is important. But then Colin admitted he never fully enjoyed it because it hurt. Namjoon told him it’s supposed to hurt; that’s the point. If he didn’t like it, why did he not say anything?

‘Because I thought you’d be mad. You’re always so stern and stiff. I thought you’d get angry with me for not wanting to keep going.’

Colin quit shortly after that. He’s a freak. It doesn’t matter if millions of people all over the world indulge in BDSM…it’s weird if Namjoon likes it. His father said proper gentlemen don’t indulge in that sort of behavior. Sex is meant for procreation not recreation. He stopped mentioning it in his profile. It’s not important anyways. He can enjoy sex without the restraints, paddles or toys. Jimin will appear willing now, but what about when Namjoon wants to strap him to a spanking horse or put him stocks or edge him for ages? Will he want to then? Namjoon pushed the idea from his mind and ordered wine and started salads for them both. Jimin didn’t object, but instead continued watching him.

“Are you okay?” asked Jimin. 

“Yes, yes I’m fine,” he nodded. “Just a bit distracted. Sorry.”

“By what? Work?” he forked some of his salad and munched quietly. 

“Yes, work,” he said before eating some of his. “I have an important meeting coming up soon and I’d been thinking about it on the way home.” 

“Ah okay,” he said, returning to his salad. Indifference to his work. Not a lot of people cared about his job. “Is there really a point in having a job when your family owns billions of dollars in real estate and land development?”

He glanced up from his dish, “You looked into me.”

“I did. There’s tons of articles about you, but it’s your sister who gave me a better picture of you. Since you don’t do social media, I looked up your mom and sister instead. I had no idea Kim Sungmi was your mom. She’s like one of the biggest fashion designers in the world.”

“She is very successful.”

“And your sister is this big social media influencer. She has thousands and thousands of followers on all her pages. I honestly never thought people can have that many followers.”

“I’ve told her being an influencer isn’t really a job.”

“She seems to make a good amount of money off it.”

“I don’t think she’ll have so much time when she gets out of medical school. I’m surprised she has time now.”

“Have you met her fiance? He’s very handsome.”

“Of course I have. Harold’s a nice guy.”

He truly did like Harold. His family owns a billion-dollar resort chain, he’s currently in law school and is absolutely crazy in love with Nari. He’d been glad to hear of their engagement. As long as his little sister is happy, Namjoon is happy. 

He finished chewing before he said, “Your dad, though, he seems a bit…sour. Is he always-”

“-Yes.” Quickly he said, “To answer your question, yes it’s important to have a career and do something with your life. It not only helps financially, but not having a career only makes life harder.” He really did not need to work. He can always be his cousin Nick, who sits around in luxurious yachts with bikini-clad women drinking cocktails. Maybe his other cousin Rachel who spends whole days shopping and buying million-dollar jewelry. He’d end up inheriting everything once his father dies anyways. “I like working. It keeps me busy.”

Sarah and another waiter arrived back at their table. She took their orders while the other cleared their table. Namjoon his usual: the new york steak teriyaki, rice and mixed vegetables. He waited to see what Jimin might order. 

“I’ll have the spicy crab legs, but do they put the sauce on the crab or on the side?”

“You can have it either way.”

“On them, please. Also, may I get a side of your veggie rice? The seasoned one?”

“Absolutely.”

“Okay, thank you,” Jimin smiled, handing her the menu back. 

Poised and well mannered. It’s a step up from some of the ones before him. He swore one of them must’ve been born in a barn. Jimin used the proper utensils, put the napkin over his lap, and sat up straight. He said his ‘please’ and ‘thank you’s. Just because he came from a poorer background did not mean he ate like a savage. Clearly eating together won’t be a problem. They ate their dinner in relative silence, focused on their meals. Jimin requested dessert and Namjoon didn’t see why not. They had enough time. 

“I’d like a print out of your schedule once you’ve chosen your classes for next term,” Namjoon said. “Then I can try matching it to my own. I’d also like it if you told me about any extracurricular activities you do as well. Surely you do more than sit around looking pretty all day.”

Jimin smirked, “You think I’m pretty.”

“I’m only stating a fact. Men wouldn’t spend hundreds of dollars on you if you weren’t.” 

Jimin finished off his dessert, “I guess that’s true. My beauty is the first thing they notice.”

“I didn’t mean to offend you-”

“-You didn’t. It’s been like that since I hit puberty. It’s the only thing people saw when they looked at me, so I took advantage of it. I suppose you can say my good looks became a weapon. Definitely got me through high school, lemme tell you. A lot of those homophobic jocks liked cornering me behind the bleachers, if you know what I mean.” 

“What would you be doing there?”

“Ditching class to hang out with friends or meet up with said jocks. I gave them hand jobs and they left me alone.”

“You…You prostituted yourself that young?”

“No, I didn’t. It was a way to survive,” Jimin defended. “I’d rather have been their fuck boy than their punching bag. I saw how other gay kids got it at school; even ones who weren’t but seemed it because they did not conform to society’s vision of masculinity. I wasn’t going to be their target, so I used their boners against them. You know, because it’s not gay if it’s a handjob…though some of them eventually wanted more than my hand.”

“So when you got older it became easier to do that sort of thing but for money? Didn’t you try getting a real job?”

“I did for a bit, but working minimum wage barely gets you by these days. I quit after this rich guy came to the restaurant I waited tables at. He slipped me a note with my current agency’s number on it saying if I wanted to make big money, I should see him at his office. Then, I applied and got the job.”

“You were okay having real sex for money?”

“It’s not like that. Alright, most of my clients wanted mostly sex from me but the much older ones didn’t. I had one client whose son died a few years before and he’d lived with him. I guess in a way I was more of a son-for-hire than a boyfriend. We went fishing, went to baseball games-he was a huge baseball fan-and just did ‘guy stuff’. He never touched me once or even asked to see me naked. That’s the problem with this lifestyle: everyone thinks I’m getting pounded twenty-four-seven. I mean,” he gave a small smile, “That honestly sounds awesome if I’m with the right partner, but it’s not always about that. Some of them are lonely and want companionship. They want someone who will listen and understand; they liked being entertained. I sell more than my body, Namjoon. I sell my skills.”

“Skills?”

“I had a Japanese client who liked watching me dance and hearing me sing. We’d sit, drink tea, eat snacks and talk. We never had sex either. He was very respectful towards me.” He then said, “I mean, isn’t that why you hired me? You wanted another person to fill your big apartment so you don’t feel so alone? Sex clearly isn’t the only reason even if you do schedule it.”

He paused again. Why is he so good at reading him? He didn’t like it. “Sarah,” he called the woman right when she passed, “The check, please.”

“Right away, Mr. Kim.”

Jimin did not press the issue. They left the restaurant and headed back home. It’s eight o’clock. They should be home in time to shower and go to bed. They remained quiet on the way. So, Jimin enjoyed selling himself that way? He’d done it that long? Namjoon did not want to judge. He personally uses his own skills at work. His father did not approve, but Namjoon took charge of the company charities/projects when the department head quit. Not everyone is so quick to hand over their money. They arrived back to the apartment and Namjoon turned to Jimin. Namjoon turned to see Jimin already taking off his jacket, keeping on his sweater and pants. 

“Well, um…” Namjoon’s cheeks and ears grew hot once Jimin came near. He should show him the guest room at least, so he’s aware that’s where they’ll do it. Not tonight. He won’t prove Jimin right by having him their first date. He’d like to know him first. “Goodnight.”

He lightly pressed his lips to Jimin’s. They’re as plush as they look. He’d like to keep kissing them. He’d gone a long time without this sort of touch. Yet, he refrained. “You know,” Jimin smiled, seeing his blushing cheeks, “You’re allowed to kiss me. You paid for that.”

“I know,” he said. 

Jimin came closer, putting his hands on Namjoon’s shoulders. He smells sweet though it didn’t overwhelm him. It might be from his mother’s perfume line. “Then kiss me,” he removed Namjoon’s jacket for him, “We can kiss here or in my room or wherever you like. I already told you I don’t mind.”

“No-Not tonight,” Namjoon reluctantly took Jimin's hands off him. “It’s time for bed. I have a long day at work tomorrow.”

“But don’t you want to put that sex dungeon of yours to use?”

“Wait, what?”

Jimin laughed at his shocked expression. “You seriously thought I couldn’t tell? The bed? Your toy chest? Your little erotica collection in the side drawer? What will we do with them? Will you read me dirty bedtime stories?”

“You saw those?”

He nodded, “I mean, I only read a passage from one of them. I mostly looked at your movie collection.” He traced the front of Namjoon’s tie from chest to neck, loosening it. “I’d pegged you as more of a basic vanilla guy, but then I saw the video in your DVD player. I think it’s called Bound Boys?”

“That’s not mine,” he immediately explained. “Colin, the guy before you, must’ve left it there to embarrass me or something. I’m not…I’m not into that.”

Jimin took off his tie, then gently massaged his chest. His fingertips burned through the dress shirt. “Your extensive bondage porn collection tells me different. It’s okay to like that stuff. I just wished you’d put it in your profile.”

“I didn’t know how you’d feel about it. A lot of the others didn’t like it but only did it because I did.”

“They didn’t like being tied up and spanked?” Jimin popped the first button. He’s mouthwatering. “I know I do.”

“No, they liked that. It’s…It’s other things.”

“Like the X-cross and your spanking horse? Do you like hardcore stuff?”

“Not super hardcore. I just, um, you know, like…I like doing that sometimes. I’m not a fanatic or anything.” He unpopped the next button, revealing more of Namjoon’s chest. He found it hard to concentrate on anything else but his hands. 

Jimin looked over him again. “We don’t have to have sex tonight. I told you. You paid for my company too. You can watch me shower or give me a bubble bath. That guest bathroom is definitely made for two.”

The idea of Jimin fully naked, washing himself underneath a steamy shower made Namjoon gulp thickly. Years ago, Namjoon would have turned into putty in Jimin’s soft little fingers. Not now. Now, he’s a man. He’s a strong man who can resist them. “Stop,” shaky hands pushed Jimin’s away, “Stop, stop, please.”

“Okay, okay,” Jimin moved away, seeing Namjoon’s breathless, nervous look. “We don’t have to tonight. We can do it whenever you’re comfortable.”

“Right. Yes. Of course. Maybe another time. I have to go to bed. Good night, Jimin.”