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Jimin’s rolling his crotch in the face of an alpha when Wonho decides to interrupt him.
“Boss is waiting for you.” Wonho leans his hip against the couch where Jimin is kneeling with his knees on either side of the alpha’s legs. One of Wonho’s dark, perfectly manicured eyebrows is raised and expectant, like his words should light a fire under Jimin’s ass.
Jimin casts a cursory glance over to the table where he always sits, and as expected, he’s there, watching Jimin with a hooded gaze. He’s wearing a suit today, the expensive watch on his wrist glinting in the flickering club lights, one hand twisting a glass of whiskey around and around on the table. There’s a cigarette dangling from his lips. The top buttons of his blouse are undone, revealing the gold chain around his neck and the edges of his colorful tattoos. His long hair hangs in waves around his face. Yugyeom stands at his shoulder, stiff and unmoving as ever.
Jimin scoffs and returns his attention to his customer, who is watching him impatiently. He puts a hand on her shoulder and rolls his hips right onto her lap.
“I’m busy, in case you didn’t notice,” Jimin says.
“You know he likes you to be ready for him.”
“Well, I didn’t know he was coming. And I’m in the middle of a dance.”
“You’re going to keep him waiting?”
There is an air of incredulousness to Wonho’s tone, like no one would dream of keeping Jeon Jungkook waiting. And it’s true that maybe no one would.
“If he wants me so bad, he can come here himself instead of sending a lackey,” Jimin huffs.
“Watch who you’re calling lackey, little omega,” Wonho bites.
“Hey,” says Jimin’s alpha customer. So far, she’s been good about the no-touching rule, but now her arm snakes possessively around Jimin’s waist. “He’s mine right now. Fuck off.”
Wonho’s lips twitch in sudden amusement. “Do you even know who you’re talking to? Look over there for a second.”
He waves his hand in Jungkook’s direction, and the alpha takes the bait. She looks over. Her face blanches. Without further delay, she pulls Jimin off her lap and flees without so much as a backwards glance. Jimin lands on the couch with an annoyed exclamation.
“Hey!”
Wonho only gazes at him with the same amusement. “You’re not busy anymore, so I’d suggest you get over there.”
Huffing and puffing, Jimin gets to his feet and straightens his clothes, brushing shoulders with Wonho when he marches by with a haughty sniff. Jungkook watches him come, his heavy gaze fixed on Jimin like there’s no one else but the two of them. Jimin’s belly stirs.
He stops a foot from Jungkook’s seated figure and puts his hands on his hips. “You lost me a customer.”
“What, no hello?” Jungkook puts his cigarette out and holds an arm wide in invitation. Jimin accepts it begrudgingly, perching on Jungkook’s knee. His hand rests on the small of Jimin’s back, where the hem of his cropped shirt and the waist of his shorts don’t meet. As always, the musky cinnamon and clove of his scent is overwhelming, and Jimin shuts his eyes briefly to collect himself.
“I’m not going to get paid for a half-finished dance.”
Jungkook smiles indulgently. “How much did I lose you, angel?”
When Jimin names the price, Jungkook waves a hand carelessly toward Wonho, who pulls a wad of cash from his pocket. He steps closer than necessary to Jimin and tugs back the waist of his shorts enough to tuck the cash inside. At Jimin’s indignant glare, Wonho only winks.
“Hands off,” Jungkook warns, and Wonho raises his hands in the air and steps back.
“It’s not about the money,” Jimin complains. “It’s the principle. You can’t just waltz in here with no warning and expect me to drop everything for you. I have a job to do, you know.”
“You’ve made it clear enough that I’m part of your job,” Jungkook says, his voice turning hard. He pushes Jimin off his knee and stands. “So do your job.”
He walks off toward the back rooms without waiting to see if Jimin follows. Jimin does.
Jimin doesn’t have to let the bouncer standing in the hallway know that Jungkook wants a private dance; everyone already knows that every time he comes, he wants Jimin in a back room and that’s it. But even if it wasn’t expected, it wouldn’t matter. No one would bother questioning him. The entire club belongs to the Jeon family, after all.
The part of Jimin that’s always eager to please wilts at the thought of Jungkook’s disapproval, even though a moment ago he’d been doing everything in his power to get it. Tugging the curtain shut behind him, he ushers Jungkook onto the couch and fetches him another glass of whiskey from the bar inside the room, wanting to get on his good side again. Jungkook settles in and watches him, but when Jimin hands him the glass, he sets it aside untouched.
“Come on.” His voice is softer than before. “Don’t make me wait any longer.”
Jimin climbs onto his lap, knees at his hips, and Jungkook grips his waist firmly before he can move. His gaze flickers over Jimin’s face, and he raises a hand to stroke his cheek. His scent is strong and heady, and Jimin swallows harshly.
“I missed you,” Jungkook says.
Jimin’s body heats up like at the flick of a switch. He doesn’t have to see himself to know his cheeks have gone pink, and he casts his gaze away, unable to handle the intensity of Jungkook’s for long. “You’re the one who takes so long to come.”
“I know.” Jimin can hear the regret in his voice. “You know I wish it wasn’t like that.”
“I know,” Jimin echoes. He winds his arms around Jungkook’s neck, spreading his legs wider so he can press their chests flush together. The line of Jungkook’s body is hard and firm against his, and when Jimin rolls his hips down, he can feel the way Jungkook shudders underneath him.
He presses his mouth to Jungkook’s ear, fingers curling into his long, thick hair. “I missed you, too,” he admits, his voice all but a whisper.
“Ah, shit,” Jungkook sighs, and Jimin pulls away so he can turn around and grind his ass in slow circles over Jungkook’s crotch. Jungkook’s calloused hands feel rough against Jimin’s skin as his hands slip up his shirt, stroking his bare sides. The no-touching rule doesn’t really apply to the Jeon family. Given that Jungkook is the only Jeon who ever comes to this particular club, Jimin doesn’t really mind.
“Don’t know why you keep coming back just to get blue balls and leave,” Jimin snarks, bending over and shaking his ass in time to the beat. Most of his customers pay for private rooms so they can come in their pants and leave. Jungkook always stops Jimin before he gets that far.
Jungkook wraps his arm around Jimin’s waist and yanks him back down into his lap, his chest pressed against Jimin’s back. Jimin grinds back against him, reaching behind to curl his fingers in Jungkook’s wavy hair as he moves.
“Don’t want you to make me come until I’m inside you,” Jungkook fires back, his breath tickling Jimin’s cheek. Jimin shivers, acutely aware of how close Jungkook’s mouth is to his scent gland. He wonders if Jimin’s honey and vanilla make Jungkook’s head swim the way Jungkook’s cinnamon and cloves do to Jimin.
“You’re never going to give up,” Jimin sighs. He turns his head to the side just to tease, and their noses brush, their lips so close their breath mingles. “I don’t do sex for money, you know that.”
“And that’s not what I want. You know that.” Jungkook’s mouth brushes the corner of Jimin’s mouth, but Jimin turns his face away. His hips snap back, and he can feel the way Jungkook’s cock has started to grow, fitting between his asscheeks. “Want more than that, baby. Want you every way.”
Jimin flushes, faltering despite how hard he tries to conceal the way Jungkook’s words affect him. Jungkook taps his hip, gesturing for him to turn around, and Jimin doesn’t want Jungkook to see the way he’s blushing, but he doesn’t want to refuse him either. He turns around, straddling his waist again, and Jungkook yanks him in flush and rolls his hips up the next time Jimin rolls his down.
Jimin’s breath stutters. Jungkook doesn’t give him the chance to catch it; he thrusts, and Jimin gasps, hands flying to to fist in Jungkook’s shirt, his firm chest at his fingertips.
“J-Jungkook -”
Jimin should stop him, but he can’t bring himself to. His mind is cloudy with Jungkook’s scent, hazy with desire, and he finds himself giving in, pressing their foreheads together as they rut against each other. His parted lips hover over Jungkook’s, and he wants so badly to kiss him, but he won’t. Can’t.
“Come on, baby,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth. “Let me take you home. Give me a chance, huh?”
“Not gonna – not gonna be the little prize on your arm just for you to throw me away when you get bored.”
A low growl starts in the back of Jungkook’s throat.
“I know how this goes,” Jimin continues through hitching breath. “I’m me and you’re you.”
Jungkook pushes him off abruptly, dropping him unceremoniously on the couch. He stands up, brushing off his wrinkled pants, and straightens his blazer. “Fine,” he hisses. “Have it your way.”
He tosses his payment on the table and leaves the room.
Jimin runs a hand through his hair in agitation. He marches from one end of the room to the other then back again. Jungkook isn’t the only one with blue balls this time. “Stupid alpha,” he huffs, marching out of the room and back into the club’s main floor. He nearly marches straight into Sana and Taemin, who are hovering by the side, most likely taking a breather before they hunt for more customers.
“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Taemin teases, yanking Jimin back toward them by his belt loops.
“What do you think?” Sana grins. “It’s the Jeon prince of course.”
“Ah,” Taemin says knowingly. “That’s who I just saw walking off in a huff.”
“Leave me alone,” Jimin grumbles. “You guys are so nosy.”
“When are you going to let him woo you, huh?”
“Poor alpha,” Sana tuts. “He’s been trying so hard.”
Jungkook’s interest in Jimin is no secret in their club. It’s one spoken of with a great deal of amusement and bitterness both; more than one dancer has turned their nose up at Jimin ever since Jungkook started coming around. It’s a big deal around here because no Jeon has ever frequented their club before Jungkook, despite owning the place. It isn’t a particularly nice club, and the Jeon family prefers to visit their other, fancier holdings. Their lackeys are the only ones who show up here.
But Jungkook had come one night six months ago, and somehow Jimin had caught his eye, and now he comes exclusively for Jimin.
“Quit playing hard-to-get,” Taemin tells him. His gaze conspicuously travels down to the very visible bulge in Jimin’s tight shorts. “You obviously have a thing for him, too.”
“I do not,” Jimin hisses. “I couldn’t care less about that arrogant prick.”
Sana and Taemin exchange a glance, then burst into disbelieving titters.
---
Jimin doesn’t see Jungkook for two weeks, and when he does, he’s with someone else.
Jimin has just emerged from one of the back rooms, fixing his clothes as he wanders back to the main floor to find another customer, when he sees them. Jungkook’s here, which is surprising enough in itself; Wonho always finds him the second Jungkook arrives, no matter what Jimin is doing. He’s sitting on a couch with another dancer in his lap - Hongjoong, an omega a few years younger than Jimin. Ordinarily, Jimin likes Hongjoong. They get along just fine.
But the sight of them together - Jimin’s hands clench into fists at his sides.
Hongjoong has a hand on Jungkook’s chest, the other at his nape, as he rolls his body sensually before him. Jungkook’s leaning his head back, long earrings glinting in the light, as he gazes up at Hongjoong indulgently. Hongjoong leans in to say something, and Jungkook laughs. Jimin can see the crinkles at the corners of his eyes from where he stands.
Only on the very first night Jungkook came to their club did he so much as look at another dancer. Since then, he’s been Jimin’s. Only Jimin’s. Taemin would say, look, that’s what you get for playing hard-to-get . He’s probably right. Jimin has done nothing but push Jungkook away, after all. But part of him had never really believed Jungkook would give up on him.
He’s been taking him for granted.
Jimin’s omega is split halfway between cowering in humiliation and marching over there to rip Hongjoong right off Jungkook. He hovers, caught between the two, bubbling with anger and frustration. Jungkook is his .
Hongjoong grinds his hips down, Jungkook’s lashes flutter, and Jimin makes his decision.
He runs a hand through his hair for good measure and beelines toward them with purpose. He knows Jungkook recognizes his scent well enough to pick it up right away, but he doesn’t so much as glance in his direction. Jimin stops right next to their couch.
“Hongjoong,” Jimin says, trying hard not to sound like he’s speaking through clenched teeth, “the boss is calling for you.”
Hongjoong’s eyes widen comically. He shifts as if to jump to his feet right away, but then he glances back at Jungkook. He hesitates.
“It seems important,” Jimin insists.
Hongjoong’s eyes widen a little further.
“Sorry,” Hongjoong squeaks, getting off Jungkook and bowing. Then he flees.
Jimin’s triumphant grin fades a touch when he finds Jungkook staring at him with narrowed, unamused eyes. He swallows harshly and climbs onto the couch, settling himself in Jungkook’s lap and playing with the chain around his neck.
“Why didn’t you send Wonho to get me?” Jimin leans in, nosing at Jungkook’s scent gland, eager to replace Hongjoong’s scent with his own. “You don’t need to call for anyone else.”
Jungkook’s hand fists in his hair, and Jimin’s lashes flutter. Then Jungkook yanks his head away from his neck. “You spend months pushing me away, and now you want to get possessive?”
Jimin flushes. “I’m not - ”
“You don’t get to string me along then decide you want me when I’m done with you.” Jungkook’s voice is hard. “That’s not how this works.”
“I’m sorry,” Jimin mumbles, feeling it acutely. “I just - ”
“Just what?” Jungkook demands.
He looks away, unable to hold his gaze. “I didn’t want you to get bored of me.”
Jungkook takes Jimin’s chin between his fingers, turning him back to look at him. “Do you think I would have kept coming back for this long if I was going to get bored of you so easily?”
“You like the chase,” Jimin insists. “That’s why you keep coming back.”
“Of course I like the chase,” Jungkook huffs. “But only because I think I’m going to catch you at the end of it.”
Jimin frowns, hit with the sudden realization of how silly he’s been. Seeing Jungkook with someone else feels like a wake-up call. He wants Jungkook. He doesn’t want to keep running away.
“I’m sorry,” he says, nosing Jungkook’s cheek, fingers clutching his shirt loosely.
Jungkook’s hand curls in his hair, his lips brushing Jimin’s jaw. “I would treat you like a king,” he tells him, “if only you would let me.”
Jimin bites his lip, lashes fluttering as he breathes in Jungkook’s overwhelming scent. “You won’t get tired of me?”
“I could never get tired of you, baby.” Jungkook seals his promise with a kiss to the corner of Jimin’s mouth. “You’re all I think about.”
Jimin turns his head, and Jungkook catches his mouth with his own, kissing him in a way that has Jimin’s toes curling. His fingers twist tighter in Jungkook’s shirt as he fights to keep up, mind growing hazy, melting into Jungkook’s embrace. He really has been a fool. He’s wanted Jungkook so badly for so long, resisting only because he was afraid. But the leap of faith feels entirely worth it already.
They break apart to breathe, foreheads pressed together, and Jungkook traces Jimin’s face with a light touch. “Come home with me,” he says, and Jimin nods before he can let himself second-guess.
Jungkook sets him on his feet and stands. He threads their fingers together and leads Jimin out.
---
Jimin wakes up alone.
He rolls around groggily for a while before he forces himself out of bed, slipping into the robe Jungkook must have left on the bed for him. He pads to the bathroom to wash up then slips through Jungkook’s large, spacious penthouse, admiring it more thoroughly than he had the night before. He finds Jungkook in the kitchen, unpacking bags of takeout. He’s shirtless, sweats hanging low on his hips, and his tattoos run from his collarbones down to where they disappear beneath his sweats.
Jimin steps up to the counter, peeking over. “Hey,” he says, feeling a little shy.
Jungkook beams at the sight of him. “Morning, sleepyhead.” He holds an arm out, and Jimin falls into it, curling into the warmth of his side. “You were knocked out,” Jungkook says into his hair. Jimin can tell he’s grinning without having to look at him. “Wonder what got you so tired.”
“Oh my god,” Jimin huffs, swatting his stomach. He accidentally on-purpose lets his fingers graze Jungkook’s abdomen as they slide down. “Shut up.”
“I can’t cook to save my life, so I had someone go for takeout. You hungry?”
Jimin’s stomach grumbles as if on cue. “Yes.”
“Oh, I’ll bet you are,” he says, wicked, and Jimin swats at him again.
They take the food to the couch, laying it out on the coffee table, and Jimin tries to sit down by Jungkook’s side but is tugged promptly into his lap instead. He wraps an arm around Jimin’s waist and uses the other to grab a bite of rice, holding the chopsticks to Jimin’s lips.
“You’re too much,” Jimin mumbles, but he lets Jungkook feed it to him anyway.
“Told you I’d treat you like a king.” The warmth in his gaze darkens briefly, his nose brushing Jimin’s cheek. Then he pulls back to feed him another bite. Jimin’s heart stutters in his chest. “If I’d known all I needed to do was make you jealous, I would have done this ages ago.”
Jimin nearly hisses just at the thought of it. He leans into Jungkook, resting a possessive hand on his chest. “You better not look at another omega again. You’re mine.”
Jungkook looks pleased, the corner of his mouth curling up. “Yeah? Am I?”
“Yes,” Jimin grumbles, nuzzling into his neck. “Took me ages to get his scent off you last night.”
Jungkook grins, kissing his temple. He reaches into the bag of takeout and pulls out a jewelry box. He presses it into Jimin’s hands. “For you,” he says, and Jimin’s eyes widen.
He opens it and finds a pair of thin gold hoops. His breath catches in his throat. “Jungkook - ”
“Don’t look at me like that.” Jungkook’s fingers run down his cheek, and Jimin shivers at the light touch. “I’m not trying to buy you off, baby. Just thought you’d look pretty.”
Jimin takes them out carefully and puts them on, acutely aware of Jungkook’s heady gaze fixed on him. When he’s done, Jungkook takes his chin between his fingers and turns his head to the left and right, inspecting him with an intensity that has Jimin shuddering. He slips two of his fingers through one hoop, tugging lightly. Jimin licks his lips.
“Beautiful.” Jungkook’s voice is low, has Jimin’s belly stirring.
“Thank you,” Jimin breathes, and Jungkook leaves a searing kiss on his neck. His lips trace their way up to his ear, tonguing his lobe.
“You’re mine, too,” he promises, and Jimin nods.
“I’m yours.”