HE'S MINE NOT HER'S  || JIKOOK ✅

18

JIMIN POV

When Jungkook pulls onto my street and before he comes to a stop, I already have my seat belt off.

The past hour and forty-five minutes were excruciating with only the fewest of words spoken between the two of us.

Mostly comments about what ever song had been on the radio
and mindless singing along.

I've really fucked everything up.

Why did I let him, okay fine beg him to fuck me that last time?

Why hadn't I realized we were already on the edge of friendship armageddon?

And why were we both practically paralyzed once we left that bedroom?

As the car comes to a stop, I hop out of the car, ducking my head back in.

"Thanks for saving my ass this weekend."

As soon as the words are out I want to yank them back but of course, that's impossible.

And why do I keep mentioning my ass? "Shit, um, I mean—"

Jungkook puts his hand up, stopping me and barely tossing
a glance my way.

"I know what you meant."

"All good."

"Yeah Cool." I feel like a total chump.

Jungkook deserved way more than a thank you, I should have been on my knees thanking him.

Of course, if I were on my knees, I'd want his dick in my mouth.

And here I am hard again. Fuck!

"I'll, uh, swing by in the next day or so to pay you the money I promised for the, performance."

"Not necessary. Really." He's now looking out the window and not even forward but away from me.

Fuck! FUCK! "But I promised."

"Don't Just don't, okay?" he insists, his tone shutting down any more protests.

"Okay."

"Thanks again For everything."

"You're the best friend a guy could ever have."

And I mean every word.

Jungkook only nods flicking the most rapid glances my way.

Taking my cue, I wave and close the door, then hop to the back to the trunk Jungkook had already popped open for me and grab my bag.

No sooner do I close the trunk, than Jungkook takes off down the street with a couple of toots from the horn.

Oh, this is not good at all.

He didn't want to be compensated which I guess
I can understand since it's like I'm paying him for the sex.

Probably would make him feel like an escort.

Why hadn't I just hired some two-bit escort to play the part?

Why did I have to put temptation in the way?

Why had all those feelings I thought I'd dealt with long ago re-surface?

Inside my loft, I do whatever I can to keep my mind off Jungkook and the weekend but that's damn near impossible.

How the fuck can I fix this?

Is repairing our friendship even possible?

* * *
JUNGKOOK POV

The ride home from Jimin's boss's party was excruciating.

I couldn't talk.

Jimin wasn't talking.

We let the radio fill the space.

When I got to his place, he would have jumped out of the car with it still rolling if I hadn't stopped.

What the fuck did I do?

How could I do that?

To my friendship with Jimin?

To Lisa?

I had turned it all over in my mind so much over the last six hours I was mentally exhausted.

I had no idea who I was anymore.

I'm five seconds in the door before Lisa is jumping on me in her 'monkey-style' and kissing me.

She thinks it's cute.

"I missed you!"

she squeals and a tone that I once heard as endearing is now more like nails on a chalkboard and unbelievably fake.

"And you missed incredible cakes I've never tasted anything so delicious."

Suddenly my memory is only of the taste of Jimin.

The taste of him. His skin.

His... Fuckin'-A! Knock it off!

I scold myself. Why can't I turn thoughts of Jimin off?

"You didn't get much sleep, did you?" she asks, smoothing her hands over my face.

"Were you up all night playing beer pong or some other juvenile bullshit?" she asks, dismounting me and pulling me to the sofa.

"Not beer pong but we were up until almost the break of
dawn." I confess.

My mind fills with not-so-faint images of being fucked by Jimin as the sky turned from pitch black to an early morning glow...

My ass clenches with its own recall.

"Tsk, tsk. Well, maybe the sample I brought home for you will energize you."

"Gail liked the strawberry creme filling but Jen was a hundred percent sold on the simple buttercream."

Lisa gets up from the sofa and heads to the kitchen droning on and on about the various flavors she and two of her bridesmaids sampled.

I honestly couldn't have cared any less. Cake is cake.

"But I brought home one I'm sure you'll think is the winner."

She rejoins me on the sofa with a box as pink as a bottle of Pepto-Bismol and opens it for me to see.

Inside sits a square of white buttercream frosting as far as I can tell.

She sinks a fork into the cube and lifts out a big corner of the cake and shows it off like a prize-winning bite at a county fair.

"Guava." she proclaims.

"Now open up." she coaxes and like some brainless idiot, I do as I'm told.

Where's the commanding, teasing man I was last night and this morning with Jimin?

I chew the cake but it has no flavor to me.

"Mmm Good choice." I mumble after I swallow most of it, trying to show how 'into' this I am.

I'm doing what I can to act the role of the good fiancé Of a straight man.

Fuck off! I scold myself.

You are straight.

This weekend and even this morning was just a... a thing.

A random. A 'one-off.'

She shoves the next bite in her mouth and makes it sound like she's having sex with the damn confection.

Whatever. What's the saying?

'Happy wife, happy life.'

If Lisa was happy, all would be good Right?

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