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kissing him tastes like a popping-open sugar burst of the world’s sweetest candy.
it’s the hint of wet cherry, of dripping strawberries, in their bathroom one winter morning –
taehyung snug between jimin’s knees where he sits atop the counter.
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it’s the hint of wet cherry, of dripping strawberries, in their bathroom one winter morning –
taehyung snug between jimin’s knees where he sits atop the counter.
the glossy balm sits not a moment& #39;s breath on the bow of jimin’s lips before taehyung is dipping in, crowding him back.
fingers gentle, but hungry, where they cradle jimin’s face, kissing the flavour clean away til jimin’s shoulders are hiccuping in a whine behind his teeth.
fingers gentle, but hungry, where they cradle jimin’s face, kissing the flavour clean away til jimin’s shoulders are hiccuping in a whine behind his teeth.
a lick of blue-raspberry vodka in the dark corner of a nightclub bar, at an after party that neither of them have any real care for at all.
taehyung’s grip dimpling the curve of jimin’s thick thigh as he hitches it up tight around his waist, and jimin’s hands curled in his hair
taehyung’s grip dimpling the curve of jimin’s thick thigh as he hitches it up tight around his waist, and jimin’s hands curled in his hair
to melt taehyung in closer.
always, always closer.
it’s licking lollipops in the syrup-sticky heat of a summer’s afternoon, the sky a melting swirl of lemon-orange ribbons above their heads.
always, always closer.
it’s licking lollipops in the syrup-sticky heat of a summer’s afternoon, the sky a melting swirl of lemon-orange ribbons above their heads.
the sun spills buttery along the grass to the skirt of their picnic blanket, where jimin cradles taehyung’s head in his lap, stroking gently the wavy, golden halo of his hair.
he sings to him, soft little songs, like kisses that he butterfly-dusts slow over taehyung’s face.
he sings to him, soft little songs, like kisses that he butterfly-dusts slow over taehyung’s face.
“all of the world’s love songs,” taehyung whispers, fingers lifting to trail the pink apple of jimin’s cheek, “did you know that they’re all written about you?”
jimin’s eyes blossom bright with the smile that he hides shy in the palm of taehyung’s hand.
jimin’s eyes blossom bright with the smile that he hides shy in the palm of taehyung’s hand.
purple, on a day where heaviness of depression drags taehyung’s shoulders down, where ice kindles white-hot and choking behind his ribs.
bellies of the clouds soot-soaked in their threatening sag, but jimin holds him as close as their bodies will allow.
and then more.
bellies of the clouds soot-soaked in their threatening sag, but jimin holds him as close as their bodies will allow.
and then more.
he thumbs away the tears gentle where they cling to taehyung’s swoopy, tired eyelashes.
the fairy tales that they sometimes read promise of the cure and the warmth of this love, but taehyung…
taehyung feels nothing, on these days.
the fairy tales that they sometimes read promise of the cure and the warmth of this love, but taehyung…
taehyung feels nothing, on these days.
and he wonders, if the authors of those tales know sadness of this kind, of sadness that carves broken-glass edged into the hollows of his chest to gut him inside out.
he hopes not.
but he hopes jimin keeps kissing him.
he hopes not.
but he hopes jimin keeps kissing him.
kissing him is the shiver-sugar of peaches and cream on a fluffy blanket in the moonlight speckled kitchen of their new apartment.
no table assembled yet, no lights hung, no nothing, but… breakfast food and an old vanilla candle crooning soft between them.
no table assembled yet, no lights hung, no nothing, but… breakfast food and an old vanilla candle crooning soft between them.
cross-legged and sticky fingered as they feed bite-sized nibbles of fruit and chocolate chip pancakes to each other.
“wanna go buy decorative pillows tomorrow?” taehyung asks, lips holding a fond smile as he strokes a freckle of cream off jimin’s cheek. “for our bedroom.”
“wanna go buy decorative pillows tomorrow?” taehyung asks, lips holding a fond smile as he strokes a freckle of cream off jimin’s cheek. “for our bedroom.”
jimin blinks open his fluttered-shut eyes, where they’ve closed through his humming of joy around a slice of pancake.
our.
.... our.
our.
.... our.
he’s helpless to do anything but push himself up wobbly onto his knees, to lean across their pitter-patterned blanket, to whisper the words like they would be in any way possible of capturing the meaning: “i love you.”
and kiss the sweets right off taehyung’s waiting lips.
and kiss the sweets right off taehyung’s waiting lips.
