男孩: Boy

章节: 2 - Many Meetings

Namjoon left. Returned back to Korea. "Good riddance." Jimin lied to himself in his bitterness. Now there's no one to constantly remind me of home. He thought but tears began to roll down his pale cheeks as he realized his loneliness. He wiped the tears away as soon as they had reached his jaw and chin, and chuckled at the pure irony. He palmed his face softly as he pondered how pathetic his life had become - so quickly too.

He but bowed twice to his new master before he had dismissed Jimin to his quarters. The boy seemed to dislike him as well. Not that Jimin cared, his eyes were on the boy's father, hoping he was a pervert - an old enough man to have grown foolish and weak-willed so that the Korean beauty could weasel his way in to the family ranks through him. He had read of many such concubines, who had, with great amount of wit and cunning, managed to fool their masters to endow them power.

He went over the events of the day as he laid on the mattress of his rather generous room. Often times concubines didn't receive more than a closet's worth of space that they'd then share with a handful of other servants. But Jimin was special, a golden flower, and even as he despised the big eyed boy, he was delighted that he too had acknowledged his worth and given him a room of his own. A beautiful room at that - where the Chinese lacked in sturdiness and will, they did have a knack for fashion and architecture. His room was painted dark green - green being his favourite colour, and the pillars and edges of the walls were decorated with gold in true Chinese fashion.

The mattress he softly sobbed and laid on was red unlike everything else in his chamber of gold and green colour. He laid there stripped, pale skin welcoming any master who would come collect him - that was why he was bought by the Jeon family after all. He spread his body on the mattress expectantly, but not happily. In all honesty he just wanted to get it over with - with Jeon Jungkook that is. He knew he'd have to lay with him, but as said, it was the father he really sought after with such seductive poses.

He pretended not to have heard the sliding doors open. He pretended not to have smelled the intoxicating scent of this mysterious substance so common in China. He'd notice it a lot during those few days he had spent in the Nanhai district. It mixed beautifully with the scent of the only man allowed to enter his chamber. Jungkook wore a scent that was both fresh and masculine, perfect for such a young, springy boy.

"Jimin-ssi?" He spoke unsurely, with his boyish voice. So perfectly smooth, that instead of fretting being spoiled by the Chinese man, he now feared he'd be the one to take away this youthful charm that, to most, was just so ephemeral and irretrievable. He rose from his lay though, pretending to have been napping, stretching his arms invitingly. The boy looked at his bare body wordlessly for a while, before managing to protest shyly: "Could you please put something on." He tried to sound assertive.

It was then Jimin's turn to ogle the other wordlessly, before begrudgingly bringing his, admittedly still sheer, robe to cover what little the younger hadn't already seen. He then turned to the boy waiting for him to speak his piece if it in fact wasn't his body he had come to claim. The Jeon family had spent a pretty penny on Jimin, so he could hardly understand why the other would have him cover up, ever, actually - he too was still young, his body pliant, smooth and his skin paler than Jungkooks's. His pink, blushing body practically begged for rougher hands to explore its plains and crevices. Hands Jimin wasn't sure the younger possessed.

"What is it Jungkook-nim?" Jimin sang most politely, trying to conjure as much warmth to his demure smile.

"Just-, just Jungkook is fine." He spoke to the ground, hand coming to massage his nape. A nervous habit. Thought Jimin. Too easy. He had to smirk internally as he examined the boy. He was well beyond attractive for a Chinaman and his boyish shyness was endearing to the the older male. "You're older after all..." Jungkook mumbled to himself more than Jimin. Jimin dared a step closer.

"What is it? Jungkook." Jimin asked softly, warmth then easier to conjure than before as the boy before him was becoming increasingly cute.

"Um, well," he mumbled "it's tea time, and I was wondering whether you would like to join?" His tone rose as did his expectant eyes, shortly connecting with Jimin's, before falling to the ground again, expecting a speedy refusal from the smaller boy.

"Oh, that sounds lovely! Will anyone else be attending? Or... just us?" Jimin accepted with a flirty, kittenish flare to his suggestive tone, yet his question hoped only a certain answer. Your father, tell me he's attending.

"Uh, just me and my grandmother." He revealed nervously, seemingly understanding the suggestion yet disappointing Jimin nevertheless with the answer. He thought to decline as soon as he learned Jungkook's father wasn't attending, but realized how impolite that would've been. He'd have to struggle through a whole cupful of the grandmother's yapping, and worst of all, Chinese tea. "She doesn't speak Korean though..." Jungkook admitted, looking up at Jimin to see his reaction.

"That's fine." Jimin's answered coldly, becoming quickly disinterested with their discussion. "I speak Chinese well enough."

"Oh, that's not what I meant at all!" He jumped, throwing his hands in the air apologetically. Funny, he thinks he offended me. "I'm sure you do! Your pronunciation too, the other day, beautiful!" He tried to convince Jimin, but he only managed a lazy smile in return to let the younger know to drop the subject.

"Well, what are we waiting for then? The tea's probably cold by now." He tried to muster a comforting nature to his voice but was already so utterly disinterested that it came out more an impatient remark.