🎐I Still Want You | Vmin

9🎈

🎐🎐🎐

"He misses the thing he doesn’t have any control over.

Touch."

 
****

As days pass, the weight keeping Taehyung’s heart trapped seems to grow heavier.

He finds himself longing for the next moment he’ll be able to touch Jimin’s hair. For the next moment he’ll be able to trail his fingers down Jimin’s arms and trace that same line with his lips. It happens randomly again and again and catches them by surprise every single time. 

The first time; when Jimin accidentally drops his brush on Taehyung’s lap. The second time; when Taehyung touched Jimin’s nose with the pad of his finger following a light joke. The third time; when Jimin stopped Taehyung from leaving by wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s wrist. 

It kept happening, over and over again, frustrating them to the point they decided to never try touching again. A decision on a whim that, obviously, only lasted a day before Jimin, from the corner of the studio, shyly asks Taehyung to try running his fingers through Jimin's hair. 

Whispers were exchanged. Sad smiles and apologetic looks followed too.

“Maybe next time, Taehyungie.” “Perhaps the time is wrong.” “It’s fine, let’s try again tomorrow.” 

Taehyung couldn’t agree. It wasn’t fine. His mind kept loudly reminding him of that day, of the feeling of Jimin’s skin against his, and it became unbearable.

He has seen the way Jimin’s eyes flash with a burning desire to feel Taehyung closer. He knows that he isn’t the only one desperately waiting for that day to come. 

He knows it and soon, Jimin confirms it. 

⚠️ Warning ️⚠️
"Mature content"

It’s a strangely hot afternoon despite the cold season. The curtains are slightly pushed to the side while the window stays wide open, letting the warm air fill the studio. A heavy breathing, slowly growing quicker, catches Taehyung’s attention the moment he enters the loft. It’s been a day since he came here; he notices the easel in the middle of the room hasn’t changed its place. 

Neither has Jimin, apparently. 

Sitting on the high ebony stool, Jimin is looking at the canvas he has in front of him with a dazed gaze. He has put the brush back on the easel, a hand resting behind him to keep him from falling as his free hand travels almost unconsciously towards his clothed crotch. 

The heat grows heavier, sweltering. Taehyung wonders if that’s the reason why Jimin’s cheeks are flushed, plump lips tinted with a vivid red and drops of sweat already beading down his temples. His light shirt is also sticking to his chest, yet he doesn’t seem bothered by that, attention completely focused somewhere else. 

“Jimin...” Taehyung calls, meeting Jimin’s eyes the moment he turns his head towards him, “have you been painting me?” 

With a nod, Jimin hums. His hand starts to grow more insistent, fingers tightening around himself as if he’s trying to stop the natural reaction that Taehyung immediately caught in a glance. “Do you know... how long it has been?”