You'll Be Mine
Authour: StoneOnThe_Beach
Retrieved from: Ao3
Words: 1763
Ship: Jimin×Yoongi
Summary:
Yoongi doesn't mind staring and the short boy with bright red hair, for now. He knows by the end of the night, that boy will be in his arms.
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The music is loud, verging on too, and the bass keeps shaking the floor boards under his feet. Yoongi’s calves have gone numb nearly 20 minutes ago from the constant vibrations and his ass is threatening to follow soon (no thanks to the uncomfortable wooden stool he's currently sitting on). The bright lights of white, yellow, red, and orange, are too intense and every minute or so he has to close his eyes as a stray beam of incandescent illumination flashes over his face.
“Want me to get you a new one?” A voice says from behind him and Yoongi almost misses it because the hook just dropped and the bass became deeper (Yoongi wasn't even sure that was possible). Slowly he turns, glancing at the bartender who, in turn, is glancing at the warm bottle of beer in Yoongi’s hand.
Yoongi hums a sound which translates as something similar to ‘nope-I’m-good,’ raises the bottle in a mock cheers of affirmation before giving a quick smile and taking a swig.
Fucker needs to mind his own business. He asks me every fucking time.
Yoongi has never been a fan of cold beer. There was something about it that put him off. Maybe it was the frostbitten bottle against his fingers or the sharp sting to his tongue. Whatever it was, he didn’t like it. Besides, warm beer tasted better anyways. The taste was crisper, the flavors more distinguishable, and the alcohol hit him harder.
Slowly Yoongi turns back around, eyes skimming over the dance floor in front of him, searching for the one particular figure that had been entertaining his eyes for almost 30 minutes before he was so rudely distracted.
It takes a while before he sees the figure again but when he does, Yoongi can’t help the breath of awe that escapes his mouth.
Slowly, Yoongi inhales, forcing his lungs and heart to calm the fuck down as he lets his eyes admire the small frame before him. The man is shorter than the other patrons of the club yet only a centimeter shorter than Yoongi’s 165cm stature. Even with the black boots the man is wearing (with a good 3cm heel on them) the top of man’s fire engine red hair just barely reaches the chins of those around him.
The man has on a plain black shirt, sleeves reaching the middle of his bicep while the hem falls sinfully over a rounded and plump ass. He’s got on a pair of skinny black leather pants that look perfectly scandalous hugging his legs. Yoongi doesn’t even care if he’s going to hell for the way his mouth waters and his dick obviously feels the same.
And it doesn’t help with the way the man’s body is framed in muscle like it was custom molded to his form. The muscle shifting under the skin of the man’s arms is distracting and, the way the chest muscles ripple the man’s shirt, Yoongi almost forgets to breathe. The legs are just the icing on the cake, muscles bulging in all the right places against pants just a size too small. The thighs are thick as well, just a little plumper than average and Yoongi lets his gaze linger a little longer on that particular area. Yoongi knows the man’s abs are perfectly chiseled as well, that slightly too tight shirt riding up to reveal them only minutes before.
Slowly, Yoongi takes another sip of his beer, watching the man take a swig from his own, a gracious present from one of the several males clinging a little too close for Yoongi’s comfort.
