Future Bois

1991

Taehyung was starting to get fed the fuck up. Did he feel bad for his actions? His wants and needs? Yes, one hundred percent, but his mind wasn't ready to admit that.

Maybe, just maybe, lusting after a future version of his boyfriend wasn't okay. And currently Jungkook wasn't ugly by any means. No, definitely not, not with his muscular thighs- toned from long nights at dance- and his chest so toned that once Tae hit it with his arm on accident and assumed it was a wall. It was just that- well, Tae loved Jungkook's arms. He clung to them constantly, rather it be on a walk in the park or as the man's biceps rippled under his hold whilst he sat on top of him during-...hanky panky.

He loved the way they pressed against the fabric of Jungkook's shirts, and how they so effortlessly lifted him around. He loved the pale skin, and how his contrasted against it- but,- he loved the sinful image of the same skin being covered bit, by bit, by bit with the ink of the tattoo gun. He loved that concept of commitment- the artist nature and the beauty behind each one. Even the ones that held no meaning to them. He also, of course, loved the way it would make others fear Jungkook. His baby suddenly seeming like a fearless protector.

So when he showed up to Jungkook's apartment three weeks ago, the boy's name scrawled in a tiny font over Tae's tanned skin, he was disappointed (despite that night's activities) when his boyfriend seemed to make no apparent plans to get one of his own.

Now it was Friday, and the tattoo-less man should be over any minute, so Taehyung was whining all his issues out to Jimin just so he wouldn't slip up and complain to the wrong person at the wrong time.

"A-and, he hasn't gotten a single one yet- or his piercing! I mean-" he stuck out his tongue, "We haff ourths!"

"Maybe he just isn't ready for that kind of commitment yet," Jimin shrugged, grabbing his coffee mug off his nightstand. "Like, you can take out a piercing, but you can't just wash off a tattoo."

Taehyung found himself deflating further onto his own bed- clad in Jungkook's hoodie and a borrowed pair of Jimin's shorts. Maybe Jimin was right- maybe the younger boy just needed a little more time. Yet Taehyung didn't care. For fucks sake, he was more permanent as the man's future husband than a fucking tattoo was!

"But- Min- they are so hot! And that man has the opposite of commitment issues- he started looking at apartments for us to move into next school year- without me, a year ago."

"Maybe he just doesn't like the design that much? Or he just doesn't know where to start? He probably wants his first one to be a good one, Tae," the small boy set his empty mug back down on his bedside table next to the expanse of other mugs. "Just give it a little more time. He probably wants to surprise you."

"Can you pierce my ass?" the younger deadpanned, turning his face to where his cheek was pressed against his mattress, "I'll show him surprise."

"I draw the line at waxing your ass, Tae," Jimin laughed as he stood up off his bed, picking up a bag off the floor. "Well, I'm headed to Seok's. Yoongi is over there right now. Don't go anywhere sketchy and get your ass pierced- I would rather not help you treat that infection."

"You're telling me not to go anywhere sketchy while you're going to Hobi's- I'm telling you his land lord had breast implants for an ass."

"Bye, Taehyung," Jimin chuckled, opening the door to the bedroom. "I love you."

"Love you too." Tae yelled back, muttering a quiet, "Even if you won't pierce my ass." after the door shut.

Once Jimin was gone, Tae sat up and reached over for his sketchbook. He didn't know when Jungkook was supposed to come over, but he knew that when the boy did, any free time to draw would be tossed down the drain. He sighed, flipping through the pages filled mostly with Jungkook and landscapes, stopping at one of the half filled pages. This page was his little secret- the words 'Koo's Tattoos' printed in the bottom corner. The sketches consisting of a few that Tae had remembered from their trip to the future, and few that he had made up.