Summer PT -1

The sound of an approaching car pulled Jimin from his daydream, making him painfully aware of the heat causing his skin to stick to his bedsheets and the weight of his best friend, Taehyung, on his chest. He huffed, knowing exactly what the sound of the car meant. His father’s new apprentice was here, and he still had not finished moving his clothes into his new room for the summer. The tiny, cramped storage room which his parents had somehow managed to refurbish into a single bedroom. This room and his own bedroom shared a common bathroom with wooden doors separating them. The doors were slightly ruined now considering how old the house was, being covered in cracks.

He stroked Taehyung’s hair, causing the younger seventeen-year-old to hum. Tae was half asleep, the humidity of the summer air causing him to become drowsy. Jimin could not help but smile at the cute sound that came out of his mouth. Taehyung was also from Korea, like Jimin was, but his family had moved to Italy when he was around eleven. Jimin remembers the day they met. It had been Taehyung’s first summer away from his friends and he was so excited to be able to properly communicate with someone in his mother tongue. Throughout the years, Jimin had taught Taehyung how to speak both French and Italian, allowing them to communicate with each other without anyone overhearing. It was like their own secret language.

Jimin had grown up in a family that had been well-versed in languages. His mother had been able to speak German, Italian and Korean. His grandfather was Korean, while his grandmother came from Europe, her parents being German and Italian, so they had passed their multiple languages down onto their child. His father spoke French as well as Korean, but since both his parents were Korean, he had taught himself how to speak French. It amazed Jimin just how smart his parents were. Jimin could fluently speak Italian, French and Korean. His German was still a bit questionable – he could understand it and write it perfectly, it was just the pronunciation of the words that confused him sometimes.

“I need to go and sort out my clothes and bring them back here.” Jimin said softly. Taehyung nodded and allowed the older boy to sit up and stretch before making his way to his own bedroom, his bare feet padding against the wooden floor. He and Taehyung had been swimming in the lake a few hours before but when the slide of hands on bare, golden skin had become almost unbearable, they made their way back to the villa for some lazy making out, the warm summer breeze brushing over their skin as the soaked material of their swim shorts caused dark patches to form on the bed sheets.

The approaching car’s engine became louder as Jimin set his pile of clothes down on the empty chair by his desk. The desk looked out onto the grounds of his family’s villa, giving him perfect views of the peach trees and rolling grass hills that led towards the meadows and lake a few miles away. It was beautiful and calming – the perfect place for him to read or transcribe his music.

Jimin moved towards the window and looked down. A car pulled up below, blowing up clouds of dust that just missed the ledge of his window, which he was happy about. He didn’t want his lungs to be filled with those choking particles. As the car stopped at the main entrance, a young man stepped out of the car, wearing a billowy black shirt with an open collar, and sunglasses balanced on the bridge of his nose. Jimin frowned to himself. This one seemed different. He had an air of something that Jimin could just not put his finger on. He noticed his bare legs and saw that although they were skinny, they were well-defined with slight muscle.

He turned to Taehyung, pushing his fingers through his blond hair. “L’usurpateur.” He spoke in French. The usurper seemed like the perfect word to describe this man. He definitely seemed confident with himself. Taehyung jumped up to come and stand next to him, also looking down. Jimin could feel the heat radiating off his bare chest and smell the water of the lake as well as a hint of sweetness from the peaches they had consumed earlier.

Jungkook, the grandson of their gardener and handyman, appeared below followed by Jimin’s parents. Jungkook was around a year or so younger than Jimin, but he was already being trained by his grandfather to take over his job when he inevitable passed away. Jungsik was already in his late seventies but still seemed as fit as a fiddle – still being able to carry heavy machinery and fix the family car when needed, as well as ensuring that the peaches were harvested as well as the other crops that grew on the grounds. Jimin’s father, Jaehyun, was already in his fifties, but he was still a distinguished and vigorous gentleman, well versed in literature and classical music, and of course in his wife, Minjung, who was in her mid-forties. Jimin’s mother was kind and caring. She was always seen with a cigarette, but Jimin did not think anything of it. He would occasionally smoke himself when he was out with his friends. Coming to think of it, he hadn’t seen Hoseok, Namjoon and Seokjin yet. The five of them would always hang out, sometimes bringing Jungkook with him if he wasn’t too tired, going out to one of the local bars and dancing, drinking and smoking, enjoying each other’s company.

“Welcome! Welcome! Oh, my, you are much bigger than your picture.” Jaehyun greeted the newcomer. Jimin cringed. His father was always full of compliments, thinking that they were the way to make someone feel comfortable in their home, but from the way the man held himself, Jimin could tell he already had a huge ego that did not need to be inflated even more.

“Dove è Jimin?” Minjung asked her husband. Jimin’s eyes widened as he remembered that he had to be there to greet their guest and help him bring his luggage up to the room.

“Il faut que je descende.” Jimin brushed a hand through Taehyung’s hair before making his way towards the stairs while Taehyung changed into some clothes so he could cycle back home. Taehyung lived in the village, a few miles from the Park villa, but he would always cycle over to spend time with Jimin. It was just their friendship dynamic. Jimin’s mother had taken to calling them soulmates since they would do everything together, and would talk every day, even if they were in different countries. The phone bills were astronomical, but it was a sacrifice their parents were willing to make for the happiness of their sons.

At the end of the stairs, Jimin saw the apprentice being walked into his father’s study. Jimin loved spending time in the study, helping his father and reading his papers. There would also be times when Jimin would sit in his study and allow his father to just talk to him and explain what he was thinking, sometimes incorporating the roots of a word, just to fuel Jimin’s brain with more knowledge that he loved to take in.

Minjung saw Jimin approach and gestured towards the suitcases, pulling him from his train of thought.

“Aiuta Yoongi a portare le sue cose in camera tua.” Minjung ordered her son gently. So his name was Yoongi. It suited him. There was something alluring about Yoongi; it drew Jimin in like a fish to water, and that was confusing to Jimin. He never thought about any of his father’s apprentices in this way, he never allowed himself to, but there was something about Yoongi that was making him lose his self-control. Jimin shook his head as he entered his father’s study.

And there Yoongi was, lounging on the sofa, the exact place Jimin would sit, drinking a glass of fresh water. Even though he looked exhausted by the heat, Yoongi remained elegant and ethereal. He had removed his sunglasses and pushed them to the top of his head, causing strands of his dark brown, almost black, hair to stick up. His almond shaped eyes were piercing, and looked as though they had seen many things, lots of stories and knowledge were observed by them. Jimin wanted to hear every single thing. He wiped his palms on the material of his shorts which were still slightly damp as Jaehyun introduced the two formally.

“Jimin, Yoongi. Yoongi, Jimin.” Jaehyun said, allowing the two to shake hands. Yoongi’s hands were huge, engulfing Jimin’s small ones entirely, but that did not really surprise Jimin since he had quite small hands. Taehyung was constantly teasing Jimin about the size of his pinky, always comparing it to the size of his.

“Hello.” Jimin said softly.

“Hi.” Yoongi was non-committal which Jimin had to admit did hurt slightly. He wanted Yoongi to be taken aback by his looks. Jimin knew he was pretty. It was something he had always been confident in. He knew how enticing his plump lips were and how much his abs caused distraction whenever he was out with his friends playing volleyball or swimming in the lake So why did Yoongi not seem interested? Maybe it was his age, but Jimin did not care. Yoongi looked to be around twenty-five, but that eight-year age gap did not phase Jimin at all. If anything, it spurred him on even more.

“Make yourself at home. Our house is your house.” Jaehyun said to Yoongi, placing a hand on his shoulder as he left the study, presumably to find Minjung.

Jimin and Yoongi headed up the stairs together. Being the ever polite host, Jimin lunged for the heavy suitcase, allowing Yoongi to take the backpack. He didn’t have to know that Jimin had the ulterior motive of showing off his muscles, especially since he knew his well-defined biceps were pretty much completely visible under the shirt he was wearing.

“And my room is now your room. I’ll be next door.” Jimin explained, his bare feet making a small sound when they came into contact with the steps.

He smiled when they met Taehyung coming down the stairs. There were more introductions, Jimin revelling in the scent of Taehyung and Yoongi mixing. Taehyung always smelt like summer and peaches, whereas Yoongi had a slightly sharper smell of his cologne and the underlying hint of city. Jimin never thought that that would be a good mix, but he loved it, the sweet and sour scents working together harmoniously.

Taehyung kissed Yoongi on both cheeks, a common European greeting. Yoongi was curious about her and looked back as he continued to walk up the stairs. Jimin noticed this and swayed his hips slightly, knowing full well that Yoongi had a good view of his plump ***.

They entered Jimin’s, well now it was Yoongi’s, bedroom. Yoongi dropped his backpack and crashed onto the bed, exhausted. Jimin lay the suitcase next to the bed.

“We’re sharing the bathroom. It’s my only way out…” Jimin began, but Yoongi was not listening. He was already asleep, his lips parted as he breathed softly. Jimin longed to cuddle up in his arms, allowing himself to feel smaller and safe in his arms. He wanted Yoongi’s large hands to hold onto his waist, hold him down while they fucked. He wanted Yoongi to pound him into the mattress, making him cry from the immense amount of pleasure. Jimin lightly cleared his throat and walked out, closing the door that separated their two rooms. He wanted to leave before he did something stupid. He needed to be smart about this. But he knew one thing for certain, by the end of summer, Yoongi would be his

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