Ideal Type|BTSxBTS

A Helping Hand

Jungkook held Jimin's arms above his head, pressing them against his bare chest while gently massaging the flesh of his palms.

The woman nodded. "Good, now hold him tight." She thrusted the large strap-on forward, pulling a cry from Jimin's lips. "We don't need our baby boy moving around and hurting himself."

—

Jimin's skin was clammy, overheated and drenched in the cold sweat of Jungkook's own trembling hands. The bed rocked with every thrust of the woman's hips, knocking the oversized wooden headboard against the concrete wall. Every dull thud a constant reminder of where they were and what was happening, forcing them both to be present.

No matter how badly Jungkook wished to slip into the crevices of his own mind. To focus on one corner of the grey room until his eyes slid shut and he was back in the dorms. All seven of them piled on their large couch, connected together like magnets, while some Netflix movie played in the background.

He wondered if that's what Jimin was doing, with his eyes scrunched shut, each wrinkle indicating just how in pain he truly was. If he was in his happy place, maybe in their dance studio, practicing choreography only to end up on the floor in a fit of laughter; as they often found themselves.

Except when does the pain become too much and the dance studio melts into walls of grey. Cries of agony echoing off the concrete, while their blood stains the stone and their tears are used to wash it all away. It was inevitable and Jungkook found it was happening to him sooner rather than later.

The thudding stopped, had stopped for awhile now, and Jungkook looked away from the corner to see the woman standing by the bedside. Oversized strap-on hanging heaving between her sweat slick thighs. She was panting, chest rising and falling with labored breaths, while her stringy black locks stuck to her forehead.

One of the scrub clad men approached her, pulling down his surgical mask to whisper near her ear. Her already thin lips pulled into a tight line and Jungkook found chills crawling down his spine when her gaze shifted to him. She waved the man away, annoyance clear on the lines in her face.

"Well...looks like the fun is going to be cut short," she sighed. "Our Jungkook is needed elsewhere."

Slowly, Jimin slid his trembling legs down the bed, leaving them outstretched before him. Jungkook didn't mean to look, had been actively avoiding it the second he entered the room, yet couldn't stop himself from following the line of his hyung's now stretched out legs. Up to his hips, where his swollen, practically purple cock laid curved against his lower stomach. A cock-ring sitting snug at the base, preventing any form of release or pleasure.

The woman undid the buckles of the strap-on, shameless as it fell from her legs to the floor. Jungkook adverted his gaze, dropping his eyes instead to Jimin's hands, which were still clutched in his hold.

"Do not let them leave the bed," the woman ordered, speaking to the two scrub clad men.

Jungkook's heart skipped a beat and he stole a glance at the men, who were nodding in agreement with her words. The woman said nothing more, as if Jungkook and Jimin didn't exist, and simply walked to the door. The keypad beeped, varying tones for different keys, and the door slid open into the pocket of the wall.

It was uncharacteristic of the woman, of the entire organization, to leave so abruptly. To end a session out of the blue and leave them basically unsupervised, a taste of freedom that had Jungkook feeling sick more than anything.

The door shut and the men marched forward, putting their backs to the exit with their hands held behind them, eyes staring at nowhere yet everywhere at the same time. It made Jungkook tense, as if they were being tested. To see if the fear they had been drilling into them was sticking, leaving them obedient pets that would never think of escaping, even if given the chance.