•Filthy Shades of Park•

~Work~

Jimin P.O.V:

"Harder!" her nails dug into my back, making me hiss at the unpleasant sting.

My hips snapped into hers, bringing her closer to her release, but further away from mines.

Hell... I wasn't even fully hard anymore.

Eventually, I became much too bored to continue my efforts. So, I flipped us over, making her put in some work.

"Ride me," I said exasperated.

She giggled darkly, "My pleasure."

The only thing keeping my attention was the art that was spray painted above us. As her whimpers and moans no longer phased me, I had to keep my mind entertained during these long nights.

This was all like clockwork to me.

Get in.

Get out.

And don't forget payment.

So, I let my body be used. The only reason for this was to get the things I needed to supply my true passion.

Drawing, painting, sketching. Anything that let me express myself through artwork.

But this...

This entire experience held no joy for me... no intrest.

I looked away from the painting and down to her.

The strands of her reddish hair stuck to the sides of her face with sweat. Her cheeks brightly flushed and showing vibrant against her pale skin. Lips swollen from how she attacked mines earlier.

To any other guy this would be a dream, but it wasn't mine.

My eyes kept scowering her nude body, hoping that something would happen. But nothing did... it never did anymore.

God, I hope I'm still functional down there.

I looked over at the square clock that was hanging by the bathroom door.

This needed to end.

I lifted my upper half, leaning on my elbows so that I was propped up high enough to speak.

"Hey, are you done yet?" I asked, hoping that she would maybe catch the drift.

"J-Jimin," she moaned.

My head plopped back against the pillow, "Yeah yeah, I know what my name is."

Y/n P.O.V:

"Jackson will you just get your head out of your ass, and stop being a dipshit for once!"

He sat behind the desk, logging himself onto the computer.

"You gotta say the magic words," he teased.

Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head, "Fuck. You."

"Sorry," he continued typing, "Wrong words."

You started to pace the floor, hands rubbing your face that was riddled with stress.

"Okay," you took a deep breath, "Please," you virtually whispered.

The clacking of the keyboard stopped, as he peaked up from the screen.

"Sorry... I didn't catch that," he cupped his ear and leaned forward, "Wanna speak up?"

"I said 'sorry'," you gritted.

A satisfactory grin spread across his mug, "Mmm, lovely."

"So, are you gonna take her or what?"