Jimin frequents a "shady" massage parlor to see one of their handsome masseurs he has a secret crush on. He always gets the same package when he visits the place until one day, Jimin decides to change things and avail the parlor's notorious "special service."
This is a commissioned AU. The commissioner picked it up for me from my list of prompts to finish writing the story.
• masseur yoongi au
• jimin is terrible at hiding his crush
• fluff, flirting, teasing
• sexual content
• sexual tension
• edging, handjob, anal sex
• prostate massage
• multiple orgasms
• aftercare ♡
“Mr. Park Jimin?”
Jimin stops fiddling with the strap of his bag when the receptionist calls him. Standing from his seat in the waiting area, he hears her say, “You may go in, sir. You’re on number 5.”
“Thanks.” Giving her a swift nod and a smile, Jimin walks through a narrow hallway before reaching forward to part the red beaded curtain hanging on the doorway.
Muscle memory takes him to the main room where a few masseurs are going back and forth carrying towels and baskets containing scented oil, lotion, and other stuff that Jimin hasn’t tried.
There’s a staircase leading to the second floor of the massage parlor but Jimin hasn’t dared book one of the ‘private rooms’ of the establishment. There was a small note at the bottom of the brochure in the reception area saying:
Special Service: ₩ 170,000
Choose your masseur.
Jimin knows exactly what that special service is, judging from the shady, downtown location of the place near the red light district. Honestly, Jimin wouldn’t have found out about this place if it weren’t for his friend, Jung fucking Hoseok, +
+ who went to this massage parlor three months ago to avail of the place's special service. But when Jimin asked what it was, the elder just smirked and told him, “You’ll find out once you try it.”
As calm, nature music filters through the cheap speakers mounted on the wall, Jimin opens the curtain on the fifth slot and takes his shoes off before stepping onto the elevated floorboards. There’s a massage bed on the floor and a tiny basket in front with lit scented candles.
Letting out a breath, Jimin closes the curtain and places his body bag in the rightmost corner of the tiny massage space, afterwards stripping off his clothes and hanging them on the wall-mounted clothes rack the way he usually does.
There are murmurs of a conversation to his left–a masseur talking to his client–but because of the partition separating each massage space, Jimin can only hear their soft, quiet voices over the small gap near the ceiling.
As Jimin proceeds to kneel on the mat, he hears a familiar voice coming from the other side of the curtain. “Mr. Park?”
Jimin’s heart starts to race. He’s been looking forward to hearing that deep voice all week. “Yes?” he says, lying prone on the mat.
“May I come in?”
“Yes.” Jimin takes a deep breath when the curtain slides open. Turning to look over his shoulder, Jimin’s defective heart does a tiny flip in his chest upon seeing the handsome masseur he’s been crushing on ever since Jimin booked his service.
For three months, Jimin has been going to this shady massage parlor once every week just to see his favorite masseur, Min Yoongi, who happens to be the main subject of Jimin's sexual frustration these past few weeks.
The guy is wearing a fitted white shirt and a pair of dark scrub pants that hugs his narrow waist quite sexily. His dark locks are bunched up to a bun behind his head, tied by a piece of hair tie or a spare rubberband he got from the reception area.
“The usual?” the masseur asks, and Jimin nods.
“The usual,” he confirms.
“Alright.” Light footsteps thump against the wooden floor as Jimin folds his arms together under his head.
An hour of full-body Swedish massage is the best way to end his week, with the service specially rendered by his favorite handsome masseur. There’s a familiar weight that settles on the back of his thighs, sitting astride Jimin's hips before a towel drapes over his bare ass.
“Lavender oil?” he hears Yoongi ask although he sees the man reaching for the bottle even before Jimin tells him his answer.
“Yes, please.” He’s been going to this massage parlor and availing Yoongi’s service long enough for the man to know his preferences.
It might be a little embarrassing to admit but no one has ever touched Jimin’s body in this place apart from Yoongi. When the man was off duty, Jimin would always opt to leave the session for another day when Yoongi would surely be there.
The sweet receptionist lady had giggled at him when she saw the look of utter disappointment on Jimin’s face when Yoongi wasn’t at work two weeks ago. Honestly, he thinks that the whole place already knows about his terrible and undeniable crush on the masseur.
Even Yoongi himself has probably caught a whiff of it because one, Jimin has always booked the same masseur ever since he started visiting the place, and two, Jimin is a horrible liar.
Hearing Yoongi rub the oil between his palms, Jimin lets out a sigh as his skin erupts with goosebumps when the masseur’s huge hands grip his waist, lathering the oil all over his spine before applying pressure on his lower back. “Mhn,” Jimin groans softly in his arms.
Yoongi takes his time pressing the pressure points on Jimin’s spine, taking particular care in unraveling the tense muscles of his lower back just the way Jimin likes it.
The patron next to him has finished his massage after five minutes, and when the curtain slides open to signal the customer’s exit, Jimin licks his slightly chapped lips and tries not to think that he’s probably the only person in his row right now.
When the masseur’s hands slide lower, Jimin lets out a sigh when Yoongi’s fingers start massaging his asscheeks over the towel. The man’s touches remain professional, neither lingering more than necessary nor brushing against intimate parts.
And if Jimin were to say his mind, he actually thinks it’s kinda frustrating.
“Is the pressure okay?”
Yoongi’s deep and slightly gruff voice sends a pleasant shiver down Jimin’s spine. “Yeah.”
He feels the masseur’s hands sliding down his right thigh. “You have a lot of knots here,” he says and squeezes Jimin’s thigh. “Busy week?”
“Hm.” Jimin stifles a gasp when Yoongi’s thumb presses a particularly tight spot on his inner thigh. “Walked too much this week.”
A low hum reverberates from the masseur’s throat before sliding down to massage Jimin’s calf.
“Mhn, right there,” Jimin mutters with his eyes fluttered shut.
“Okay.” Yoongi takes a few minutes circling his thumbs on the tight muscles before sliding his hands all the way up to Jimin’s thighs, stopping right below Jimin’s asscheek and pressing on the bone hard until the taut band loosens up.
He manages to trap the embarrassing sound in his throat before it escapes his mouth but when Yoongi does it again, this time with his thumb ending too close to Jimin’s balls, the younger sucks in a huge breath and–
The masseur’s hands pause halfway down his thighs as pin-drop silence hangs above their heads.
Oh, God. Did Jimin just…?
“S-Sorry,” Jimin stammers out as his fingers dig into his arms, his round cheeks dusted with a deep shade of red because of utter embarrassment. He can’t believe he fucking moaned in front of his crush!
A low chuckle airs above him. “It’s okay,” the masseur tells him before switching to Jimin’s other thigh. “Don’t hold yourself back on my account.”
Jimin bites his bottom lip at that. What does that even mean?
“No, it’s embarrassing.”
“It’s not; it’s your body’s natural reaction.” Yoongi presses a tight muscle on his left thigh, causing Jimin to let out a breathy gasp. He… can feel something going hard between his thighs.
“I sound stupid,” Jimin tells him but the masseur contradicts his remark.
“You don’t,” Yoongi utters, sliding a thumb up the side of his thigh. “Your body’s being honest.” Another low chuckle. “It’s cute.”
Cheeks flaming, Jimin shuts his eyes tightly, burying his face into his arms as the masseur massages his lower limb. After about half an hour, Yoongi requests him to turn on his back, politely averting his eyes when Jimin moves to fix the towel to cover his private part.
“I’ll flex your right thigh,” Yoongi informs him, and Jimin nods.
Okay, now this is the part that always makes Jimin blush.
The masseur sits astride his left thigh as his hands grip Jimin’s other leg and bends the limb at the hips as far as it can go. Jimin doesn’t know if this is how you do a full-body massage in general –
+ or it’s just how things work here in the shady massage parlor – but their close proximity is making Jimin a little dizzy. “Okay?” Yoongi asks, making sure he’s not hurting him.
“Can I push more?”
When Yoongi bends his right leg nearer to his chest, almost touching it, the man lets out an amused breath and says, “You’re quite flexible, sir.”
The heat pooling in Jimin’s cheeks doubles. “I’ve been hearing that a lot.”
His response causes the masseur to lift a curious brow. “From whom?”
He wasn’t sure because of the dim lights but he thinks he saw Yoongi’s eyes drop briefly to his mouth when his tongue flicked across his bottom lip. “Just…” he hesitates. “From a few people.”
“Yeah?” Something glints in the masseur’s eyes that Jimin hasn’t seen before, and before another thought slips into his mind, his breath hitches in his throat when Yoongi hooks an elbow under Jimin’s bent knee and plants a hand beside the younger’s head, +
+ hovering on top of him until their faces are inches apart. “Do they bend you like this?” the masseur asks in a deep and gravelly voice that makes Jimin’s gut clench.
“I–” Jimin’s lashes flutter as he swallows hard. “No.”
Yoongi faintly lifts a brow. “No?”
Jimin shakes his head; it’s getting harder for him to breathe with his crush’s face hovering on top of him like this. “Can I know why?” he hears the man ask.
“They don’t…” Jimin’s hand reaches out to hold Yoongi’s wrist beside his head, attempting to pacify his erratic heartbeats. “Bend me this much.”
A light hum. “So I’m the only one who knows how flexible you are?”
Jimin squeezes Yoongi’s wrist. Shit, he can feel the man’s clothed erection pressing up against his balls–
“Yes,” Jimin answers although his voice comes out quite breathy between them.
There’s a brief twitch to Yoongi’s lips before the masseur pulls away to switch to the other limb but this time, he doesn’t go as far as hovering on top of the younger. He settles by holding Jimin’s left leg and pushing the limb until it touches his chest.
Jimin is left staring at the ceiling, still a bit stunned because what the actual fuck just happened?
“Can you please turn around?”
“S-Sure.” Jimin wants to kick himself for stuttering like that but instead, he blushes and turns around to lie on his stomach again.
This time, however, to Jimin’s embarrassment (and secret delight), the masseur doesn’t avert his eyes. So when Jimin’s front hits the soft mat beneath him, he takes a moment to wiggle through his new position before reaching for the towel.
He’s lying prone on the mat butt naked with Yoongi’s eyes on him.
Jimin thinks he hears a little sharp intake of breath coming from behind him, resounding clearly in the private space they’re in. Pulling the towel over his ass /slowly/ to tease his crush, Jimin says, “I’m ready.”
He tries not to smile when it takes a few seconds before the masseur moves from his spot. In the past three months, this is the first time that Jimin let Yoongi see his bare ass in its full glory.
“I’ll start with a deeper pressure,” the masseur tells him as he climbs on top of him, sitting right on Jimin’s backside. “Please tell me if I’m hurting you.”
Biting his lip, Jimin says, “Okay.”
Yoongi presses his thumbs down and God does it hurt so /good/.
The man’s fingers are gentle and rough at the same time. The way his hands dig into Jimin’s muscles, applying the right amount of pressure to ease the tension on his back, makes the younger’s jaw clench with satisfaction and pleasure.
Yoongi is goddamn good with his fingers; Jimin is a living witness to that so he wasn’t really surprised when he knew that a lot of patrons book Yoongi’s service when he’s on shift.
A tiny part of his mind, one that is selfish and petty, frowns at the thought of other customers being able to feel Yoongi’s hands on their skin like this. But that’s just how it is. Jimin can’t exactly complain about that.
Besides, Jimin is fairly sure that many had availed of that special service from the parlor’s brochure and picked Yoongi as their masseur.
“The special service–” Jimin bites his tongue but it was too late. Fuck.
“Hm?” Yoongi hums, circling his thumb above his shoulder blades.
“I’m just curious.” Jimin clears his throat. “I’ve been seeing that note about the parlor’s special service and…” He pauses as a blush settles on his cheeks.
“And I kinda wanna know what it is.”
Silence hangs above their heads for a short while before the masseur tells him, “Sir.” His voice sends a pleasant shudder down Jimin’s spine. “Are you sure you don’t know, or are you curious about trying it?”
“That’s not what I–” Jimin plants a hand on the mat to push himself up a little, looking over his shoulder to give Yoongi a scandalized expression. “Look, I won’t try it. It probably isn’t worth my money anyway.”
An amused huff comes out of Yoongi’s nose. “How do you know it’s not worth it if you haven’t tried it?”
“I just know.” Jimin turns to look in front of him. Hoseok is wrong. If Jimin wants to get laid, then he can do just fine without letting a certain masseur get under his skin–
“I’ll give you a sample.”
“What?” Jimin asks, not quite getting what Yoongi meant.
But instead of answering, Jimin feels the man’s hand slide down to his waist, holding him still before–
Jimin gasps loudly when Yoongi bucks his hips against his ass.
“What the–?” Jimin’s eyes grow wide in shock. But then, the masseur does it again, and again, and /again/, each thrust harder than the last that Jimin feels his erection going hard between his thighs.
And to make matters worse, Yoongi takes the towel off his ass and thrusts again with a force that pushes Jimin forward on the mat. “A-Ah…” he moans brokenly before he can catch himself.
Oh, God. Jimin can feel a prominent bulge burying between his asscheeks.
“That’s a free sample, Mr. Park,” Yoongi tells him, sliding a large palm up and down Jimin’s spine which feels more like a caress than a massage. “Book me.” The masseur’s voice drops an octave lower. “And you’ll get the full service.”
Jimin feels like he’s tethering over the edge. He actually felt his teeth clack once as his hands curled into tight fists. Shit, he wants to touch himself.
“Your one hour is over.” Yoongi hops off Jimin’s back and pulls himself up to his feet. “I’ll get you a warm towel and a cup of ginger tea, sir. Please wait for me.”
And just like that, Yoongi exits the massage space with the curtain falling behind him, leaving Jimin alone on the mat with a dazed mind and a half-hard dick. He can’t believe Yoongi just dry-humped his ass like that.
“Shit.” Jimin buries his burning face in his arms. He fucking hates Jung Hoseok for pushing the thought of trying that ‘special service’ into his mind.
"So..." Jimin shifts in his seat and clears his throat, stirring the glass of iced coffee with a straw. "I've decided to try out the special service."
Hoseok blinks at him for a second before throwing his head back with a loud laugh.
Jimin blushes in embarrassment as several heads in the café turn in their direction, bothered by the sudden noise. "What made you try the special service?" Hoseok asks with his eyes twinkling with curiosity and amusement.
"One... of the masseurs told me to try it."
Because of Jimin's vague answer, Hoseok snorts and bites a piece of his banana chocolate chip bread. "You mean 'Yoongi.' Your favorite masseur."
The blush on Jimin's face deepens. "Well, yeah. He told me to book his service."
"Is that so." Hoseok rubs his chin, seemingly pondering on a thought. "That's surprising. Namjoon told me Min Yoongi doesn't do special service."
"Namjoon?" Jimin raises a brow. "The tall and lean guy?"
"Yeah." His friend smirks. "/My/ favorite masseur."
'Huh,' Jimin thinks. So Namjoon is Hoseok's type of guy, huh?
"How was he?"
"Oh, he's good." Hoseok his eyebrow as a mischievous smile stretches across his lips. "/Very/ good."
"I was referring to his massage routine, but I shouldn't have fucking asked." Jimin rolls his eyes.
Then, the younger decides to backtrack and ask about what Hoseok said earlier. "You said Yoongi doesn't do special service?"
Jimin purses his lips. "That's weird. He seemed pretty confident when he told me to book him."
Yoongi has a lot of patrons during his shift, so it won't be a surprise if the guy gets to do a /lot/ of special services during his employment period. But then again, no matter how shady the parlor is, the masseurs have the freedom to accept or decline a patron's booking.
"Well, as far as I know, Yoongi did accept special bookings a few times before in the past, but the chance of landing a mutual agreement with him is lesser than you eating mangoes."
"I fucking hate mangoes with a passion." Jimin makes a disgusted face.
"That's what I'm saying!" Hoseok laughs and points at Jimin. "The chance of getting a special service from Yoongi is slim to none."
"Namjoon told you this?"
"Yeah." His friend smirks. "FYI, Namjoon and I are on /very/ friendly terms. We talk about a lot of stuff."
Taking a sip of his iced coffee, the younger asks, "You hang out with him?"
Hoseok shrugs. "I don't only book him to have sex with me. We hang out sometimes."
"So you're admitting that the special service involves having sex." Jimin huffs.
"Yep." Hoseok grins at him. "Technically, it's about that, but not all the time. You and your masseur have the freedom to do what you please with your time alone. You can just ask Yoongi to give you a massage in a more secluded place, hence the private rooms."
"And sometimes, Namjoon and I hang out outside of the parlor." Hoseok whistles. "We already went on friendly dates a couple of times."
"Friendly dates. Right." Jimin snorts. "You mean friendly dates with benefits."
"Semantics." Hoseok waves a dismissive hand.
Staring down at the dissolving ice in his drink, Jimin licks his lips as an intriguing thought invades his mind. "Did–" He hesitates. "Did Namjoon tell you anything about those special bookings Yoongi accepted before?"
An amused and knowing look settles on his friend's face, and the other man lets out a teasing smirk. "Jealous now, are we?"
"I'm not." Jimin frowns. "Just curious."
"Curious." Hoseok snorts at the word. "Don't worry about it, Jimin. Namjoon told me Yoongi hasn't accepted a special booking in two years. Apparently, being a masseur is just a part-time job for him."
"Really?" Jimin's brows go up to his hairline in surprise.
"Well, if you're really 'curious' like what you're claiming to be." Hoseok leans closer over the table. "Why don't you ask the man in question? I'm pretty sure he'll tell you because he seems to like you."
Jimin's cheeks heat up because of that. "Don't say that."
"Come on! Why else would he do another special service after two years? Besides, you didn't ask to book him; he /offered/."
"Well." Jimin rubs a hand on his neck. "If you put it like that..."
Maybe, his friend is right. Maybe, Yoongi does like him.
"Maybe, he just likes my ass," Jimin says jokingly.
"Understandable." Hoseok folds his arms and nods three times. "Your plump peaches are to die for. It's one of your greatest assets."
"Ya!" Jimin cackles and kicks his friend's leg under the table.
"You know I love you, but I have a very platonic relationship with your lower half." Hoseok shrugs. "I have my own peaches, and Namjoon once told me that he was incredibly fixated on them."
"Is that so." The younger lets out an amused breath through his nose.
"I guess he and Yoongi are friends after all." Jimin grins. "Because my favorite masseur usually takes extra time massaging my peaches, too."
Hoseok laughs out loud because of that.
He's been going to this massage parlor for more than three months already, but this was the second time that Jimin felt uncomfortable again after his first visit to the place. He usually avails the same thing, but today–
"Yoongi," Jimin says, blushing. "Special service, please."
Perhaps, it isn't discomfort but embarrassment. Jimin is embarrassed about going to the parlor to get fucking laid by his favorite handsome masseur. God. Okay, fuck.
"Oh." The reception lady chuckles behind a dainty hand. "Mr. Min informed me about it."
"Yes." She nods with a smile. "This way, sir."
As the receptionist asks one of the assistants to usher Jimin upstairs, he wonders if Yoongi was indeed expecting Jimin to book his special service because he had already informed the receptionist beforehand.
Okay, is Jimin's crush on him really /that/ obvious?
"You're in the last room, sir," the assistant utters as he leads Jimin upstairs and down the end of the left corridor. The second floor of the massage parlor is more richly decorated than the ground floor.
Ornaments and paintings hang on the red-painted walls as cheap glass chandeliers cast dim lighting along the corridors, complemented by gentle music playing through the wall-mounted speakers and potted bamboo plants lining the right wall.
When the assistant opens the door, he says, "Please take off your clothes and lie down on the bed provided for you." Jimin steps into the room. "Your masseur will be here shortly. Have a pleasant session, sir." He bows and closes the door, leaving Jimin alone in the room.
The private room isn't big but not small either. There are glass lotus candles on a nearby table as a white-covered massage bed stands in the middle, serving as the room's centerpiece. This is the best place in the whole massage parlor for Jimin so far.
Stripping off his clothes, Jimin folds them neatly and places the discarded garments on the table. The lavender scent of the candles hits Jimin's nose, and the younger lets out a soft sigh in return. Did Yoongi place these candles here because he knew that Jimin likes lavender?
Standing stark naked in the middle of the room, Jimin rubs a conscious hand up his arm before finally hopping onto the bed to lie face down on the mattress. The cushion is totally different from what he's used to.
Instead of a floor mattress, this one looks like an authentic massage bed that he only sees in spas and high-end massage parlors. Not that he's complaining. He paid a few thousand won extra for this shit.
Then, Jimin hears someone knocking on the wooden door.
"Mr. Park Jimin?"
Jimin tenses up upon hearing that familiar deep baritone. "Yes?" he answers.
"May I come in?"
"Y-Yes." Jimin winces when he stutters over his reply. Calm the fuck down, he berates himself.
Swallowing thickly, Jimin lifts his face from his folded arms to look at the newcomer, and /God/. His breath hitches horribly in his throat.
Yoongi isn't in his usual white shirt and scrub pants. Instead, he's wearing a white tank top and a pair of fitted dark boxer briefs.
The prominent bulge on the masseur's lower half is hard to miss, and fucking God did Jimin almost topple over the bed when Yoongi locks the door shut as his dark eyes connect with Jimin's shocked gaze. "Hello, Mr. Park," the man greets him with a mysterious uptilt of his lips.
Jimin has to clear his throat /twice/ for he can't get the words out because of how shocked and aroused he is at the moment. "Hi," he manages to say before averting his eyes from the man.
"Is the room to your liking? Do you have any requests?"
With his nails digging lightly into his arms, the younger utters, "Can you... dim the lights a bit?" Jimin is becoming a little conscious, so if he's going to do this session until the end, he wants to do it with dimmer lighting. It's a matter of preference for him.
Jimin's heart is pounding hard in his chest as he waits for Yoongi to dim the lights of the wall lamps while leaving the lotus candles flaming among the shadows. The ambiance becomes warmer and more reserved as a piece of sensual violin music starts playing through the speakers.
Jimin takes a deep and slow breath when he hears Yoongi's footsteps approaching the bed. "Lavender?" he hears the man ask.
"Yes, please," Jimin replies as his whole body pulses in anticipation.
With a low hum, the masseur opens the lid of the bottle and pours a generous amount on his palm, letting some of the oil drop on the back of Jimin's right thigh. As the warm liquid hits his skin, Jimin's lashes flutter shut as a soft sigh escapes his lips.
Then, instead of asking /normally/ like he usually would, Jimin feels Yoongi's slick palms caressing up his leg to grip his right thigh as his low voice whispers near Jimin's ear, "Shall we begin, Mr. Park?"
Pressing his lips together, Jimin nods shakily and utters, his voice sounding breathy and aroused to his own ears, "Yes."
The first ten minutes with Yoongi looks like what a normal massage session with him would be.
The masseur begins by oiling Jimin up from neck to foot, his thumbs sometimes pressing down on the tight muscles on Jimin's legs and back and eliciting contented sighs from the younger.
However, when they reach the twelve-minute mark, Jimin feels Yoongi's hands sliding down his backside, cupping his cheeks and digging his fingers into the plump flesh as if kneading a bread dough.
"Ngh," Jimin whines against his arms at the pleasurable sensation, licking his lips as blood slowly starts to fill the shaft between his thighs.
Then, Jimin feels it: the first 'touch' of Yoongi's special service.
With his eyes closed, Jimin's jaw drops when the masseur's thumb presses against his rim, slowly massaging the puckered entrance with varying pressures that both tickle and arouse Jimin.
"Mhn..." he moans softly against his arm when he feels the tip of Yoongi's thumb inserting past his rim, the digit staying there for three seconds before trying to push in deeper. Jimin winces at the slight stinging pain that the intrusion brings him.
It's been a while since he got laid, so his backside needs a little bit of warm-up before they can get things going.
"Relax," Yoongi tells him as the man pulls his thumb out to lather lavender oil all over the younger's hole. "Tell me if you want to stop, Mr. Park."
How could Jimin ever ask Yoongi to stop if the man already got him so fucking hard and aroused like this? "K-Keep going," he utters breathily.
At Jimin's favorable response, a low chuckle escapes from the masseur's mouth. "Alright." He smiles. "I'm going in."
Jimin’s mouth drops wider as the masseur slowly inserts his middle finger, completely lubed up to the knuckle to make the slide smoother and easier. “Mhn…” Jimin’s teeth dig into his bottom lip when he feels the digit moving slowly inside him.
Then, after a while of swirling around and dragging the digit along the younger’s clenching walls, Yoongi announces, “I’m adding another finger.” When Jimin nods in approval, the masseur pulls out to let his index finger in together with the middle one, +
+ slowly easing into Jimin’s hole and stretching him carefully as Yoongi keeps running his other hand all over the younger’s oiled back, massaging the tension out of Jimin’s muscles to help him feel comfortable despite the obscene act they’re committing.
“You’re tight, Mr. Park,” Yoongi whispers in his ear, causing goosebumps to rise on Jimin’s skin.
“It’s… been a while,” Jimin replies with a soft gasp when he feels Yoongi’s fingers graze the edge of his sweet spot.
A low and pleasant hum vibrates in the masseur’s throat. “Should I be more gentle, then?”
Jimin wants to chew the pillow under his head. “No. J-Just do it like usual.”
“Usual.” Yoongi chuckles as his fingers finally brush against Jimin’s prostate, massaging the gland slowly. “I don’t have ‘usual,’ Mr. Park. Do you know why?”
Jimin is having a hard time processing their conversation because of how fucking good it feels to have his most sensitive spot massaged like this. “N-No,” he manages to breathe out.
Then, Yoongi pulls out halfway to insert a third finger. “Because I rarely do special service,” he utters in a low voice as his fingers slide deep into the younger’s hole, settling deep inside him and making Jimin’s thighs shudder for a moment.
“But when I do, it’s always just a quick jerk-off session or a prostate massage. I don’t let my clients touch me.” Jimin’s right hand grips the white sheet, feeling his arousal twisting painful knots in his gut.
And after a moment of enduring the pleasurable grinds of Yoongi’s fingers against his sweet spot, Jimin can’t hold back any longer.
He /moans/, and the obscene sound reverberates along the four walls of the small private room.
“Beautiful,” Yoongi praises as he circles his fingers inside Jimin, gaining speed and pressure until it drives the younger mad and writhing on the massage bed.
“Y-Yoongi!” Jimin gasps loudly when white-hot pleasure shoots up his spine. “Shit…”
“You’re feeling it,” the masseur whispers before brushing his lips on Jimin’s bare shoulder. “Should I do your front, too, Mr. Park?”
Jimin swallows to wet his parched throat. “No.” He wants to come untouched. “And c-call me ‘Jimin.’”
The masseur lets out a pleased and breathy sound through his nose. “Jimin,” he utters, and there’s something inexplicably satisfying in hearing his name fall from the other’s man. “So you want to cum from the back, is that it?”
A tinge of embarrassment colors the younger’s flushed cheeks. He nods.
Yoongi’s free hand kneads his asscheeks. “Okay,” he says, thrusting hard into the younger’s hole. “I’ll make you come hard, Jimin.”
“Ah!” Jimin moans out loud when he feels his orgasm building up fast with every movement of the masseur’s fingers. His hot walls clench against the digits as if his hole is greedily sucking them deeper.
Then, after just a few strokes, Jimin reaches his high with trembling thighs, convulsing on the bed as Yoongi milks every last drop of cum out of his twitching shaft.
“Ngh…” Jimin closes his eyes as he basks in the afterglow of his orgasm, feeling the fingers inside him change their pace to a languid one, keen on dragging on Jimin’s pleasure as much as possible.
When Jimin’s hip twitches at the oversensitivity, Yoongi drops a firm kiss on Jimin’s right asscheek before slowly retracting his fingers from his hole.
“Good boy,” the elder praises.
Jimin could feel his rim fluttering around nothing, and the mere thought that Yoongi had practically finger-fucked him so thoroughly that he would stay loose for a couple of hours made his soft cock twitch back to life a little.
After wiping his hands with a towel, Yoongi steps on a stool and hops over the bed to sit astride Jimin’s thighs. He pours a generous amount of lavender oil onto his palm before proceeding to massage the younger’s back again, +
+ pressing against the pressure points and tense muscles with skilled fingers.
“Mhn.” Jimin sighs in satisfaction. “You’re very good with your fingers.”
Another low and airy chuckle. “I get that a lot.”
Jimin wants to roll his eyes. “I’m sure you do.”
He doesn’t intend for it to sound like a scoff, but a pang of jealousy gets the better of him and makes him forget his place for a second. It’s not like they’re together or anything, so Jimin doesn’t have the right to be annoyed about such things.
To his grave embarrassment, Yoongi somehow manages to pick up his mood and tells him in a teasing tone, “I’m good with my fingers.” A short pause. “But I’m better with other things.”
Jimin swallows thickly as a new wave of arousal starts filling up his groin. “Like what?” he asks, even though Jimin knows exactly what the man is talking about.
The corners of the masseur’s lips twitch up, and Yoongi lowers his torso onto the younger’s back to whisper near Jimin’s ear, “A lot of things. Lips. Teeth. Tongue…”
Jimin’s breath catches in his throat when he feels a hard bulge digging between his asscheeks. “And this,” he hears the man say. “These are the things that my clients don’t know about.”
And when a soft whine comes out of the younger’s throat as his hips instinctively push back against the masseur’s clothed erection, Yoongi teasingly bites the shell of Jimin’s ear and licks the flushed skin before whispering, “Do you wanna know, Jimin?”
With his hands trembling on the sheets, Jimin licks his lips and turns his head to the side to brush the tip of his nose against Yoongi’s cheek. “Yes,” he breathes out. “Tell me something your clients don’t know, Yoongi.”
The muscles in the masseur’s arms tense up, and the man says, “Not tell.” Pressing a kiss on the oiled golden skin of Jimin’s nape, he mutters, “I’ll show you.”
Everything happens quickly like a motion blur.
Jimin sees Yoongi tossing his tank top over his head and displaying his toned muscles under the warm candlelight, his chest and abdomen contoured with shadows and orange glows that can make Jimin drool even in his sleep.
He stifles a gasp of surprise when the masseur pushes his boxers down to let his hard cock spring out as his heavy balls hang between his thighs. Stroking the long shaft, Yoongi lets out a relieved sigh before rolling a condom down without taking his eyes off Jimin’s face.
God, Yoongi looks so goddamn perfect.
“Yes,” Jimin whispers as he briefly takes his bottom lip between his teeth, feeling a heavy wave of arousal stirring his gut. “Fuck, give it to me.”
With an amused chuckle, Yoongi plants a hand on the massage bed and slowly slides his hard cock into Jimin’s hole. The girth and length of the shaft are too much, and the masseur’s erection stretches Jimin to his limit until he feels the head settling inside him.
“Oh, fuck–” Jimin moans and grits his teeth. “Y-Yoongi, you’re so– nghh!” God, Yoongi is so deep inside him that he can feel the man’s pulse throbbing against his walls.
“You’re clenching around me.” The masseur nuzzles the skin between his shoulder blades.
“Fuck, you feel so damn good, Jimin.”
“Ah…” Jimin blinks through the haziness in his vision, trying to look over his shoulder to catch a glimpse of the man’s dark eyes. “Move,” he utters shakily, pushing his ass back and feeling the hard erection inside him twitch in interest.
“Give it to me, Yoongi.”
Smirking, Yoongi says, “As you wish.”
The sudden movement of Yoongi’s hips isn’t unexpected, but the sheer force of it still pushes Jimin up the massage bed and knocks the wind out of his chest. He feels the masseur’s large hands sliding down his spine until they grip the sides of Jimin’s waist, +
+ pinning him down the bed as Yoongi continues to piston in and out of him.
“Fuck!” he almost yells out when the blunt head of the masseur’s cock hits his sweet spot dead on.
“There?” Yoongi asks in a devilishly sweet and low voice. “Am I hitting you right, Jimin?”
“Y-Yes.” The younger sucks in a breath when the masseur snaps his hips sharply. “Right there. More— ngh!”
As Jimin’s erection twitches back to life, his gut stirs heavily with arousal as the man continues to plow into him +
+ until he feels the beginning of his orgasm slowly dawning upon him. “Close,” he grits out, holding the sheets tighter with white knuckles. “I’m– gonna come.”
Then, to his utter dismay, Yoongi’s thrusts suddenly halt to a stop.
“Noooo,” Jimin whines as the buildup starts to fade like receding saltwater from the sand. It’s fucking frustrating. “Don’t stop.” Propping both elbows under him, Jimin attempts to chase the prior stimulation by pushing his ass back to the masseur’s cock. It’s not enough.
“Yoongi,” he calls out weakly.
“Tell me how much you want it,” the masseur says, placing a hand on Jimin’s lower back to push him down the bed, cutting off the younger’s movements. Yoongi begins to thrust slowly.
“Want it–” Jimin bites his lower lip. “So bad.”
Yoongi releases a low hum. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes.” Jimin’s hips try to wriggle free of the elder’s hand but to no avail. He needs Yoongi to fuck him properly, or else he’s gonna lose his mind.
“Wanna experience the best orgasm of your life?” the masseur whispers as he gives the body beneath him a sharp thrust, punctuating his question with a hard hit to the younger’s sweet spot.
Trembling, Jimin licks the drool off the corner of his mouth and says, “Yes.”
His response pleases Yoongi, and the masseur tells him, “Then, I’ll give it to you.”
The cool air inside the private room bites on Jimin’s heated and sweaty skin as the lewd sound of skin slapping against skin fills the air together with Jimin’s grunts and breathy moans.
The elder hits him perfectly as his hard and fast thrusts grant Jimin little to no reprieve from the stimulation, causing the younger to whine and writhe under the masseur’s heavy and muscled body.
Just as when Jimin thinks he’s going to come, Yoongi slows down his thrusts once again as newfound frustration coils deeply in the younger’s gut. “Yoongi!” he complains, fisting the sheets in a wave of fury. “I swear I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” The masseur starts grinding against his ass slowly. “Tell me what you’re gonna do, Jimin.”
“I… I will—” Jimin lets out a moan when he feels the blunt head rubbing hard against the swollen gland. He’s aching all over, and he wants an outlet for his painful arousal, but the masseur is edging him so fucking bad that frustration starts to pull at his mind.
“Hm?” Yoongi continues circling his hips, grinding against the younger’s ass faster and faster until Jimin is a writhing and moaning mess under him. “What do you want, baby?”
The little endearment tugs something inside Jimin’s chest, and he lets out a soft moan before uttering, “You.” He swallows hard. “Want you, Yoongi.”
The masseur licks his lips as a dark glint flashes across his eyes. Planting a kiss on the younger’s bare shoulder, Yoongi answers, “Then, you’ll have me.”
Jimin’s knuckles turn white on the sheets as he holds the fabric tightly to ground himself, taking every hard and fast thrust the elder gives him without mercy. It feels so fucking good, and Jimin feels that familiar buildup once again, +
+ but this time, the climb to the edge seems more intense than ever. Jimin has never felt so aroused and frustrated like this.
“Oh, my God. I—” Jimin bites his bottom lip. “Shit, I’m—”
“Come.” Yoongi caresses his side, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder. “Let go for me, baby.”
And, fuck, Jimin did.
His orgasm travels from his gut up to the tips of his toes, making his legs tremble in pleasure as electricity hums pleasantly under his skin. He can feel the electrifying sensation in his scalp and the roots of his teeth as cum spurts out of his cock, +
+ ruining the sheets under him as the masseur continues to fuck him until the younger whines for him to stop. Dropping another kiss on Jimin’s shoulder blades, Yoongi pulls out and quickly takes the condom off to stroke himself to completion.
With his head thrown back, a low groan comes out of the masseur’s throat when his orgasm hits him as thick white ropes of cum spurt out of his hard erection, painting the younger’s spine like a prized artwork.
“Mhn.” Jimin wets his lips. His whole body feels like floating.
Hopping off the bed, Yoongi takes a clean towel to wipe the cum off Jimin’s back. He tosses it to the basket and takes another one to gently wipe the oil off Jimin’s skin. “How are you feeling, Mr. Park?” he asks, his broad chest layered with a sheen of sweat and lavender oil +
+ and heaving a little from the exertion. “Do you want tea?”
Jimin huffs as he pushes himself up from the bed, frowning. “I told you to call me ‘Jimin.’”
The towel freezes on Jimin’s thigh, and the masseur lifts his eyes to the younger’s face. After a moment of heavy silence, the elder opens his mouth. “I thought it was just a spur of the moment.”
“Dirty talk,” Yoongi clarifies as he continues to serve Jimin his aftercare. “I thought it was a part of the special service.”
‘Part of the sex,’ Jimin clarifies through his mind. Yoongi thinks that Jimin asked him to call him by his name for sex.
Pressing his lips together, the younger utters, “You called me ‘baby.’” He reaches out to touch Yoongi’s wrist.
/ “I don’t let my clients touch me.” /
Yoongi’s voice echoes in his mind, and even though the other told him that and the skin that Jimin is currently touching burns, the masseur doesn’t make any attempt to wave him off.
Staring right into Yoongi’s eyes, Jimin asks, “Was it part of the special service, too?”
There’s a thin blanket of fear looming above Jimin’s head, dreading that Yoongi will say yes and just break everything off just like that. But the masseur stays silent as his gaze drops to Jimin’s hand around his wrist, seemingly deep in his thoughts.
Will Yoongi reject him?
Jimin blinks and watches the elder raise his eyes to meet his gaze once again. “It wasn’t part of the special service,” he hears the masseur say. “I meant to say it.”
Something light and warm /tugs/ at the younger’s heart, and before he can bite his tongue to stop the words from falling out of his traitorous mouth, Jimin manages to ask, “I know I’m just a client but…” He swallows and decides to throw all of his shots in the air.
“Are you free this Saturday?”
Yoongi’s feline-like eyes widen for a second before an amused chuckle airs out of his mouth, coloring his pale cheeks with a healthy pink hue. “You’re not just a client,” he says, pulling his wrist from Jimin’s grip to twine their fingers together.
“As I’ve said, I don’t let my clients touch me.”
With his heart leaping up a thousand miles, Jimin sees a beautiful gummy smile blossoming on the masseur’s face as the elder utters, “And yes. I’m free this Saturday.”
- the end -