Pieces of You - BTS smuts

A Taste (NamjoonxReader)

You've been flirting with him for weeks, the new sushi chef at the little dive just down the street from your office. The unfairly hot, ridiculously sexy new sushi chef. The man is sin on two long, gorgeous legs, every bit as much of a meal as the sushi he expertly serves up each night.

His teasing smile, shy laugh, and good lord his dimples, have, on more than a few occasions, featured in dreams that have you waking up in the middle of the night in need of more than a cold shower.

Tonight is one of his slow nights. Very few patrons would be seated at the bar and even fewer at the half dozen tables scattered around the restaurant. You would be one of those patrons if it weren't for the damn project that had been thrown in your lap at the last moment. Rushing down the street, cursing your bad luck and your manager's terrible timing, you spot your sushi chef at the door, locking up the restaurant for the night.

"Clo...closing early?" You have to gulp in air as you come to a stop. Running in heels is a bitch.

His welcoming smile almost knocks the air right back out of your lungs as he turns to you and nods.

"No sense in keeping it open if no one's there to enjoy it." He tilts his head slightly, his eyes softening as he raises his eyebrows at you. "Unless you're hungry, of course. I can open back up if you want."

"No, no that's okay. It'd be silly to open up the whole place just for one person."

You shake your head, heat blossoming in your cheeks that has nothing to do with your little jog over here. You curse yourself inwardly. The hot sushi chef is offering to open the restaurant just for you and you're turning him down? Have you lost your mind? Cold showers here we come! Wait, did his smile just fade a little?

"But you're hungry right?"

"Well, yeah, but it's no big deal, really. I have ramen back at my place. I can..."

"No way. C'mon, I'll make you something."

With a grin, he takes your hand and unlocks the door with the other, even as you protest weakly that he really doesn't have to. His hand is warm and far softer than you expect and for a minute you completely lose your train of thought. Once inside, he turns and locks the door before releasing your hand and tossing his jacket over the back of the nearest chair. When you glance from him to the door and back again, he laughs, and that shy, playful sound warms you all the way to your toes.

"I said I'd open up for you, not anyone else."

The wink he tosses you turns your knees to jelly and you have to grab the nearest chair to keep from embarrassing yourself by wobbling like a newborn deer. You steady yourself only to be caught off balance again when he grins at you over his shoulder, flashing that damn dimple at you.

You realize with a start that this is the first time you've seen him without his uniform. You knew he was well formed, but damn. His black t-shirt hugs his chest, back, and shoulders in all the right places and his jeans had to have been painted on those long legs and perfect ass this morning. But even those observations pale in comparison to what else he's wearing around his chest. The purple of the leather is brilliant against the black of his shirt, the silver buckles gleaming in the low light of the bar. A harness, one single strap over his right shoulder and one around his chest, wraps snuggly around his body, a tail of leather hanging freely under his arm, like it slipped loose from its loop. Your heart skips a beat and you bite your lip until you taste blood, fighting back a whine. Did he read your diary?

"You coming?"

Yes, in about three seconds if he's not careful.

You nod quickly before coughing and looking away, at the floor, the ceiling, the shades pulled all the way down over the windows, anywhere but at that spectacular body as he moves behind the bar. Not that you're fooling him with your obvious display of disinterest, the smirk on his lips as he preps making it perfectly clear that he caught your hungry stare.