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It’s a Sunday in Busan, in every sense of the word. In the distance, a family laughs together as they descend down the hill leading to the beach. The sun, in the half-gold state lying between the ambiguous hours of not-quite-sunset, is warm enough to sooth the flush a quick breeze brings.
Jungkook polishes off the rest of his sotteok-sotteok just as a hand brings the face of a puffy-lipped fish before his own. Bungeoppang. Jungkook’s cheeks lift with his smile as his head tips back, meeting the crescent eyes of Jimin, who gives him a radiant smile of his own. “You’re not full yet, are you?” he asks, voice teasing. Wordlessly, Jungkook shakes his head, eagerly taking the fish-shaped bread from Jimin.
Jimin strokes his hair as he eats, in that way that would make him purr if he could, and when Jungkook glances at him halfway through, it’s to the sight of fond eyes fixed on him, lips somewhere on the verge of an endeared smile and a focused purse. “You wan’?” Jungkook remembers to ask, mouth full as he extends the bread. Jimin laughs, shakes his head, pushes it back towards him with a soft, “Hyung’s fine. You eat.”
Jimin lies down on the picnic blanket that is definitely too small for two men of their size, but he throws an arm over his eyes, inhales deeply, and settles with the contentment of a cat lounging in summer sun. Jungkook watches him, loving that he can just look without the worry of cameras catching him and analyzing the depth of his gaze or the flitting of it. And what a wonder Jimin is to look at. His grey hoodie rises up the intriguing ridges of his stomach, exposing the smooth, tan skin.
Jungkook licks the tips of his fingers, wipes them clean, and eagerly trails them up Jimin’s sides, under his hoodie. Jimin makes a small, amused sound, but is otherwise undeterred. Encouraged, Jungkook digs his thumbs into the flesh and massages the clean jut of Jimin’s exposed hipbones. He doesn’t know what it is about Jimin recently, but Jungkook just can’t keep his hands off of him. He’s far beyond his days of gruelling diets and self-neglect, and Jungkook could not be happier. Jimin glows.
Overcome with affection, Jungkook settles between Jimin’s legs, half of his body strewn carelessly on the grass, and rests his cheek on Jimin’s exposed stomach with a careful, pleased sigh. The skin is warm, the sparse hairs of Jimin’s thin happy trail tickling his face when he shifts, and it’s soft. Beneath the plush flesh lies unmistakable, toned muscle but Jungkook focuses on the slight give at the very bottom of Jimin’s stomach. Jungkook wants to bite. He turns his head, and does.
“Ey,” Jimin laughs, hand falling on Jungkook’s head in surprise. Jungkook looks up at him with wide eyes, caught but unapologetic, and nibbles on the flesh with his front teeth. “Aish, thought you were full?” Jimin murmurs, voice that smooth, gentle tone that has Jungkook melting against him, hands gripping his thighs just to have something to anchor him.
“Love your tummy,” Jungkook mumbles, half sleepy and wholly in love. Jimin ruffles his hair before carding through the thick locks with slow, consistent strokes, raking his nails along his scalp in a way that has Jungkook’s teeth sinking the slightest bit deeper in his skin. Jimin hums, pulling back Jungkook’s top lip to see how his teeth grips him, and giggles. Pretty, sweet. Jungkook sighs.
“You like it?”
“Mn.”
“You can have it.”
Jungkook wraps his arms around Jimin’s waist, palms flat against his back, and nuzzles his nose into Jimin’s navel with a decisive. “Okay. Mine.”
Jimin’s chuckle trembles like a tender ripple through his whole body, but Jungkook holds onto him like it is a wave. He peppers kisses down Jimin’s happy trail with no intention of venturing further, just wanting to be close close close. Jimin understands, stroking what he can reach of his cheek with how his face is smushed into his stomach and whispering. “My cute boy. Take it all.”
“I want it a lot, a lot, a lot,” Jungkook replies, almost reflex, slurring the syllables. He whines shortly when Jimin shivers with another laugh. Always happy. Jungkook allows himself a proud smile.
He drinks in Jimin’s natural scent and the last traces of his expensive cologne, the one he sprays delicately over his wrists and neck before shrugging his shoulders and showering all over his body. Jungkook’s seen it happen, has seen the droplets of the liquid settle on Jimin’s bare golden skin like a shimmer in the morning sun streaming through his window. It’s funny. (It’s exhilarating.)
“Love you so much,” Jungkook whispers as much as he wants to scream it. As an afterthought: “You and your tummy.”
Fingers trail down his ear, tickling him behind his lobe where the imprint of his heart lies tattooed. “We love you too, baby.”
And, how many things a few words can say.