Park Jimin begins working as a secretary for the billionaire Min Yoongi and discovers a man of masculine beauty. He is introduced to a dangerously extraordinary playground, a place where the lustful executives are privileged and extreme fetishes are...
♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️♠️ Jimin had a big problem. The thoughts continued to drive through his mind as he danced at the club. He looked shyly into the crowd, imagining there was a certain Chairman watching him. The crowd roared as Jimin moved his hips, rolling them rhythmically to the beat. He straddled the chair, imagining he was sat on Yoongi's lap. Legs parted, it made him so whiney. He had never thought about things like this, not even with clients that hired him for a private dance. His moves began to develop erotically as Jimin slid his hands down his torso, thrusting to the beat. His mind was clouded with the thoughts of Yoongi filling his mind. It was filthy. Yoongi at most touched his hand, it had been brief and only to place an ice pack on his burns.
But temperature rose in the club, Jimin's sweaty body spun, earning more cash. More than he's ever earned before. Their dirty eyes followed his every move; it was disgusting, but Jimin continued to eye the chair he imagined Yoongi to be sitting on. There was the smirk, the look, the lack of words that drove him insane.
And he hated the love he had for that gaze.
It was so vivid, the memory sent chills wrapping around his spine as he spins again, ready to kneel on the floor. And this was the exact position Yoongi wanted him in on Monday. Kneeling, he throws his head back as he ran his hands down his chest. He looked back up, it was that chair again, and dancers weren't allowed to touch and be touched by clients. But that was Jimin's biggest problem. He wanted... no, needed Yoongi's physical touch.
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The music ended.
$324. That was how much Jimin earned for imagining Yoongi watching him.
Showers were difficult. He couldn't ignore his own erection as hot water ran down his toned back and dripped onto his aching cock. His thoughts were out of his control, his mind filled with the thought of Yoongi pressing him against the glass panels, cold on his chest, hot on his back. The water flowing between them like a thin sheet. And even then, the distance was too much. He would touch his cock and he hated that he was thinking of Yoongi as he did. He pumped the length, and he usually didn't have time to be thinking about masturbation. He used to work every single part time job he could find, working early into the day and ending late into the night. His thoughts focused on what he was doing, he continued to imagine what Yoongi would possibly do. He wondered how professional Yoongi would be in pleasing him.
"Jimin, hurry the fuck up," Yelled Joon Hee, "We all need a shower and would like to sleep!"
"I'm nearly done!" Jimin answered, he reluctantly pulled his hands away.
And there was the knock on the door telling him to hurry up from one of ten girls that lived here. One bathroom in a cramped place. He had no privacy as his mind was filled with Yoongi, his cock aching so much it hurt. He concentrated on the shower instead, turning the tap for cold water. It helped, the rushing ice cold water was enough of a distraction. He rushed to wash the soap away from his body, and for the only time that night, he didn't think about the Chairman.
Because at night, when Jimin's mind should be resting, he would wonder how Yoongi would touch him as he laid on the couch, his blanket pulled up to his cheeks. He imagined Yoongi hovering above him, slowly pulling the covers away. Yoongi would kiss him first, then slowly lead his lips along Jimin's neck. It was so vivid, it seemed almost real, and Jimin would grab onto Yoongi's back, hair, neck, anything that could keep him grounded. He wouldn't mind moaning Yoongi's name, he thought about the extracts he read. Would he get to try any of those? And the more he thought the more painful his throbbing cock got. He slept in the living room. Anyone could literally walk in to him. And from time to time, one of the bedroom doors would open. So Jimin painfully kept his hands away from his lower region.
His dreams were the worst. They would feel so real, like he was straddling Yoongi, bodies pressed together in that large office. He thought about running his hands down Yoongi's shirt, unbuttoning each pestering button. He already thought about pressing his lips on Yoongi's, he thought about hickeys and if he could give him the purple ones like Taehyung or the small pink ones that Jin got. He could only imagine what was under the white shirt, under the suit blazer, what was under the belt buckle and if he could have it fill him. Would it fill him good? He hated to think about these things. He knew it was so wrong, especially after all he had already said to Yoongi. No kissing, no oral, no sex. It was developing into torment and Jimin felt like he was abnormal in comparison to his colleagues. Everyone had some sort of physical relationship. Some were subtle, others not so much.
But everyone was satisfied.
Everyone but him. He didn't know why, but Jimin thought about pleasing Yoongi so much. He could only shamelessly imagine the satisfaction he would receive from any sexual touch Yoongi had to offer him.
Jimin would wake up to his own mess. It sucked, it didn't give him any real release, instead it made his want for Yoongi increase so much. He didn't understand. He never had a problem with this. He didn't have strong sexual urges. He wanted to blame the food basket. Anything he can to take the blame away from him. He rather something else made him physically hornier.
So, when Monday came, Jimin found himself obediently kneeling by Yoongi's desk like commanded. And the thought to review the contract entered his mind. The sun beamed through the glass, perhaps he was too early for work. He wanted to arrive before anyone mentioned anything about sex. He thought about the things that would turn him off. But all those thoughts dissolved as the door opened to reveal the man he whined for. He wore his favourite satin tie around his neck, the pristinely ironed white shirt combined with a dark grey suit. He brushed his hair back as he walked towards Jimin.
"Kitten."
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