"They say all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you." -Heaven (Julia Michaels)
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The naked flesh of Jimin's body rested on the cold counter top with his legs hanging around Jungkook's naked shoulders. With his head thrown back and lips parted he was in the bliss of being teased by his dominant boyfriend. His fingers were holding onto the edge of the counter top for support because if he didn't hold himself, he'd fall back.
Jungkook sprayed a line of whipped cream onto Jimin's cock from the base to the tip and crouched down to teasingly lick the red tip of the erected member. "If I say I may regret something I did, would you care?" he asked before hollowing his cheeks and going down on the elder's shaft tasting the sweet whipped cream against the soft skin.
He chose his words carefully, knowing not anyone at all could bring him the pleasure the man in front of him brought him.
"Ah~ Depends—Mmh," hummed the writer.
Jimin's tip twitched at the first contact of Jungkook deep throating him. The cold whipped cream already warmed up at the contact of the dominant's tongue and wet cavern.
"Mmeugh~" Jungkook bobbed his head twice, slow and sensual sucking on the length and swirling his tongue around the tip inside of his wet mouth. He retracted his head until only the tip remained in contact with his lips and he gulped, then he sucked and sucked on the red tip wanting to hear how he could drive the elder into overstimulation before he could cum.
"Ahh! Ahh! Jeongguk-ssi!" Jimin moaned without care or embarrassment, his reddened cheeks flaring up.
Their evening went on like this, pleasuring each other, tasting each other, some would say it was perfect for these lovers, but some would disagree. The sweat of their bodies rolled down through the heat, it was a sweet intoxication for both. They weren't on Earth anymore, but on their own utopia where nothing mattered, just them, the dominant and the submissive. Jungkook's plans were broken, for the first time he didn't achieve what he had wanted to. What he had said didn't matter anymore.
As Jimin laid resting his head against his neck for support, he panted. Reddened cheeks flaring as his hair sticked to his forehead with sweat. Jungkook had just finished the entire bottle of Whipped Cream and their connected bodies were wet and creamy. Believe it or not, they had only achieved their first climax before something unexpected happened.
"Samgyeopsal," the writer muttered, feeling light headed.
Jungkook stopped his movements before moving his hips back to slide out of Jimin's wet creamy hole. He asked, "Jimin?" as he heard the continuous pants of his submissive, the dominant's right hand raised the elder's chin somehow gently. He noticed the brown eyes were on the verge of closing as he kept panting out of breath, he had never reacted like this, that's until he noticed the reddened cheeks flaring up with heat. "Oh no. Shit," he cussed.
He brushed Jimin's bangs away from his forehead and placed his hand above it to check the temperature. The palm of his hand began warming up at the contact indicating one thing. Jimin had a fever. "Do you have a thermometer?" Jungkook questioned and let him rest his head against his neck as he held onto the writer's waist and bottom to carry him to his bed.
Weakly, the reply Jimin gave was, "In my bathroom, the top shelf of the cabinet." Jimin's voice was low, in emotion and spirits. One orgasm was all it took to rob him of his energy and as he was laid on his bed—still naked—he now saw the whole ceiling going in circles.
Jungkook walked to the bathroom and on the top shelf of the cabinet was the thermometer. He felt some deja vú crawl through his mind as he walked back to the bed and clicked on the only button in the thermometer before sliding it under Jimin's tongue.
"Are you feeling warm or cold?" he asked the writer while heading into the elder's closet.
"I dow kno," Jimin mumbled. The after effects of climaxing were still evident in his body so it warmed him up, for the moment. Now, the writer really really cursed upon his choice of clothing for the day, in the second week of January, he had chosen knee shorts. KNEE SHORTS. And then, he stayed watching the view still feeling cold, now here were the consequences of his actions.
"What does it say?" the elder asked, not able to see well through his rotating vision. Jungkook returned with a white-silk pajama outfit and some black Balenciaga briefs neatly folded and placed the clothes on the bed, not yet giving them to the writer.
"Thirty-nine point two degrees Celcius. Hyung, your fever's high. Why the hell did you choose to wear shorts today? How are you not dead?" the actor read, taking off the thermometer from under the writer's tongue.
"I don't fucking know. Can you pass me the—"
"First, I'm showering you. You should've listened to me, Baby, instead of going back with Taehyung. Now, look at you. You're sick. Aside from the fever and exhuastion, what else do you feel?" scolded the younger.
Jungkook wrapped Jimin's arms around his neck and held him, both of them still naked but neither felt arousal or lust for each other even if the pull of gravity held them against each other. The actor stopped, his emotions were frozen in time the moment the safe word was said. The submissive's health was the most important at the moment, he needed Jimin to be alright.
"Dizzy," the elder replied as Jungkook lowered his legs onto the shower tiles and began washing his submissive's body first with colder water to help lower the fever of his boyfriend.
Whatever Jungkook felt at the moment of lowering a sick Jimin onto his bed fully clothed and refreshed after a shower, was new. He had never done this to any of his submissives, no one had ever gotten sick while having sex or had already been sick, and because of him. He knew he shouldn't have left him like that, he should've given him his own black coat but he didn't. The writer was given some medicine he had after a few minutes and Jungkook laid up beside him, checking from time to time if the wet towel on Jimin's forehead was still cold.
"I'm sorry," Jimin mumbled after a long silence.
"Don't be. I should apologize," Jungkook said sternly, not believing his words yet not retracting them. He just went with the flow and did not explain himself; he never should. Dark black eyes haunted his mind the moment he replied, so he shut up instead and flexed his right arm to use lay it under his head on top of the pillow.
"Why?" Jimin yawned, eyes were on the verge of closing.
"Just because," Jungkook responded and closed his eyes. "If I get sick too, I'm going to punch your arm. We just started shooting today," he added with a chuckle, not really meaning his words towards the sick male.
They fell asleep beside each other physically but emotionally distanced, not Jimin but Jungkook. He couldn't bring himself to continue feeling the constant dark eyes haunting him, traumatizing him.
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I can't feel my legs. My heartbeat is resonating throughout my whole body, vibrating against each corner from my chest to the tip of my fingers, but I can't find the strength in myself to move. How is this possible? This dark room is slowly consuming my soul into oblivion, but my body hasn't given up yet. Even if my legs can't move, my arms are holding what is most dear to me; my salvation. I seek the warmth of her chest as her arms are tightly wrapped around me for protection. Her soft benign hands hold me close enough for our bodies not to leave a single space between them, but it still isn't enough. Save us.
Through whispers I've heard since birth, her voice almost inaudible, she keeps forcing it to reasure me, "I'm sorry Gguk-ah... I shouldn't have dated him."
I can see the reflection of her shimmering eyes, we're both scared to death and we can't hide it. Knowing well how she can't hear my voice but feel the vibrations of it, I loosened the hold of my right hand to curl my ring and middle finger letting the other three fingers out. I press my hand against her chest tapping continuously against it mumbling a series of: "I love you's," my body is slowly giving up on me.
"Bring the boy to the Boss' bedroom and I'll take her to his office."
The voice of an unfamiliar man echoes in the background of my sobbing and my mother's. With my eyelids falling heavy and my body failing me, I can't take control of the murk overpowering my vision. Her warm and trembling body is gone from mine, shaken away with force. I can't see her; I can't hear her whispers; I can't feel her hands; I can't do anything to help her.
"He's all yours, Min Woo-ssi."
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Sweat dripped down Jungkook's long messy locks as he jolted awake and sat up. Thankfully, Jimin was still asleep with a minor fever now. Through the moonlight that crept up from the windows, his cheeks glimmered and heated up. He couldn't stop the tears that escaped his eyes but tried cleaning them by rubbing his right hand against them while his lips trembled.
"Fuck, this hasn't happened in years. Why now?" he hissed.
Not knowing why his mind decided to replay a long locked memory from the depths of his mind, he felt the water in his eyes slowly cease; just another nightmare from Jeon's fucked up world.
"I am not feeling guilty," he sniffed and got up from the bed with the sudden thirst for water. Eyes red, nose pink, cheeks warmone thing could be infered-and a contagious fever was passed onto him. "I chose to do this," he mumbled while feeling his throat begin to feel sore. Hating falling in sickness, the actor walked towards the kitchen cursing upon how he let himself fall sick as well as the writer—peacefully sleeping—instead of giving it thought that this was his karma.
"Just great. Now, I'm sick too," Jungkook complained with a nasal voice followed by clicking his tongue given his nose decided to become stuffy after waking up while crying. He drank a cup of water at room temperature hoping for feeling better in the morning so he could practice his lines with Jimin; the nightmare of locked memories sealed in the depths of his mind just like before.