Chapter Text
“No, seriously, Tae—where the fuck am I?”
The white Honda Civic bumped over pothole after pothole, the dirt from the road kicking up behind its tires in a plume of dust that was likely splattering all over the sides of the car. Park Jimin cursed as he swerved to avoid what looked like a crater in the road, praying that he wouldn’t have a flat tire or fucked-up alignment after all of this.
His best friend’s laugh echoed throughout the car, Kim Taehyung’s voice coming through the fancy Bluetooth system. “Min, this is insane. I thought you were meeting with an investor?”
Jimin glanced at the map on his car screen, then back at the road. He was seventy percent sure he was going the right way. “Kind of. It’s some company that wants to use us for marketing and PR.”
“And they sent you?”
“Jin bailed. I might kill him after this, honestly. What the fuck,” he murmured under his breath, braking as he began to see large trailers parked in the fields off to the left. Well, there were fields off to the right, too. There were fields everywhere. “Am I going to be kidnapped?”
“I hope not. I need to hear this story, so try not to die, okay?”
“No promises,” he said, before reaching over and cutting off the call. Hands rolling forward on the steering wheel, Jimin did his best to figure out where he was going. There were cars everywhere. Trailers and trucks were parked off to his left, while more regular vehicles were parked in the field to the right.
In the center of it all, straight ahead, was an arena.
Of sorts, at least. Jimin was used to giant arenas in cities, football fields and stages that jutted out in the center of a crowd of screaming fans. Those were the arenas he went to, at least, as an avid concertgoer. It was half the reason he’d agreed to this—he’d been promised a show by the company they were deciding whether or not to represent. Jimin had thought that show meant a concert. It wasn’t until he was already on his way that he’d been informed it was a rodeo.
A literal rodeo.
So here he was, in a violently rural part of Texas, dragging his Honda Civic through the mud to get to a rodeo inside a hockey arena. Pulling into an empty spot and parking, Jimin rifled through his things, trying not to gawk at the people walking by in full-on cowboy hats and boots. At least he was wearing boots of his own—they were heeled and black, but they looked good enough to his untrained eye.
Reaching into his bag, he pulled out a t-shirt, deciding last minute to swap his classic button-down for something that would fit in more. He pulled off a quick change in his seat, glad he’d worn jeans and throwing a jacket over his shoulder as he climbed out of the car. Those heeled boots hit the dirt and he cringed, feeling it squish beneath his feet.
Jimin pushed a hand through his blond hair, adjusted his clothing, and decided he could suck it up and go to a rodeo.
The crowd roared as he walked into the arena. He took a glance at the merch tables and debated buying a cowboy hat, just to blend in, before shaking it off with the knowledge he’d never wear it again. It took him a moment to find someone who worked there, smiling apologetically and holding out his phone to show his ticket.
The woman’s brows raised. “Well, would’ya look at that. Got ourselves a VIP here. Let me get you a badge, come along,” she drawled, smiling at him through a mane of blond curls.
Jimin accepted his phone back and followed her throughout the arena, dodging patrons with buckets of popcorn and giant cans of beer. The woman eventually reached behind a counter and pulled out a lanyard, watching as Jimin slipped it on and let it hang around his neck.
“VIP section’s right 'round there,” she said, pointing to a section down close to the floor. “Enjoy!” She ducked off without another word, leaving Jimin alone to struggle to get his bearings.
The place was utterly packed, people moving every which way, the clomp and clatter of cowboy boots echoing off the concrete. Dirt covered the entire center of the arena, down where the ice rink would be, and red pens had been erected on either side of the court. There was a loud banging, making Jimin flinch and peek up at the giant screens in the center of the arena.
A cowboy sat on top of a horse in one of the pens, the horse lunging at the gate and causing it to clatter loudly against its frame. The announcer was speaking indistinctly, and Jimin sighed, ordered himself a beer, and finally made his way down to the VIP section.
VIP at a rodeo. Taehyung was never going to let him hear the end of this.
Jimin guessed he could understand the appeal. It would be a fun event for people in this line of work, people who viewed this as entertainment. Not to agents of marketing firms that had just driven eighteen hours from Los Angeles to spend a week in Texas. He had no issues with Texas, of course, but—even after multiple stops and a good night’s rest in Tucson, Arizona—Jimin was exhausted.
Still, he apologized as he stepped over other VIP patrons, and settled into his seat. The rodeo had already started, apparently, as another pen opened just to his left and a horse bolted out, trying its best to buck off its rider. It succeeded, the rider tumbling to the ground and quickly hightailing it out of the way. Two rider-clad horses darted to catch the now-free horse, leading it toward the exit and setting up to do it all over again.
Jimin watched with mild interest, sipping his beer as the events passed. Lassoing—which was actually quite dramatic and fun—barrel racing, steer wrestling—which he did not like all that much—and bareback riding. They called an intermission, where Jimin got up to head to the restroom and snag himself another beer, texting Taehyung and Jin as he waited in line.
Park Jimin: I’m going to kill you both.
Kim Taehyung: What did I do??!!!?!?!?!
Park Jimin: You’re complacent.
Kim Seokjin: AHAHAHAHAHA
Park Jimin: You’re dead to me, Jin.
Kim Seokjin: Love you too <3 :*
With a roll of his eyes, Jimin tucked his phone back into his pocket, now next in line. There were two younger girls in line behind him, likely three or four years his junior, speaking loudly as they dug through their purses for cash. “I heard he took time off of the tour to come here. It’s his hometown, you know,” one of them said.
The other let out an appreciative hum. “Good, I didn’t want to have to travel all the way to Fort Worth to see him.”
“Fort Worth? For Jeongguk, Fort Worth is nothing. I’d have gone out of state.”
“True.” One of them let out a loud laugh. “He could ride me instead of that bull any day.”
Jimin raised a brow, mouth twisting as he hid his smile. Now that he thought about it, the cowboys participating probably got some major play after this. Like hockey players after games, he thought. Stepping up to order his beer, he paid the staff and collected his drink, still pondering the idea as he made his way back to the section.
The aisles were still quite busy, but it cleared out the closer he got to the VIP section. Boots clicking on the concrete stairs, he got to his row, a bit glad his jeans were as tight as they were after seeing the spilled beer on one of the chairs—at least he could avoid it. Setting down his own beer, he lifted his arms in a cat-like stretch, the hem of his shirt lifting to expose a strip of his stomach. He finished stretching, ready to settle in for another hour of the rodeo, when he realized the pens in front of him were full.
With bulls.
Horses made sense. The steers and calves they were using made sense. But Jimin hadn’t considered bull riding. This must have been what those girls were talking about, which meant that one of the many men perched on the rails of the pen was this infamous Jeongguk.
Jimin took his time studying them. There wasn’t really much else to look at and, sue him, but there was kind of something about a man in a cowboy hat. There were six pens in total, with about three to four men sitting atop each one. It was hard to tell them apart, at least, as to who was the rider and who were his helpers, but the longer he looked the easier it became.
listen to: cowboy casanova - carrie underwood
Riders seemed to wear jackets, or at least protective vests, caged helmets in their hands. Some of them, at least. Jimin hoped they weren’t dumb enough to forego the helmet like most of the bareback horse riders.
He kept surveying, eventually circling back to the second pen, the one after the pen closest to him. That rider—at least, who he assumed it to be—was wearing a different jacket than the rest. It lacked fringe and had patches all over it. A closer inspection showed them to be logos. Wrangler, Yeti, LucasOil—the guy was a walking brand. He had a black cowboy hat on, dark hair peeking out from under it, blue jeans and dark leather chaps. The rider held himself tall, helmet dangling from his fingers, every inch the cocky, bull-riding cowboy.
Jimin raised an eyebrow, appreciative. Looked him over once more, boot to hat, and froze.
The cowboy was watching him.
They were close enough that he could just barely make out the smirk on the rider’s face. A man that was happy to be appreciated in such a manner. It was hard not to watch as he reached up, gently tipping his hat to Jimin with a wink.
Jimin scoffed and rolled his eyes, but a tiny smile lifted one corner of his mouth. There was no way in hell this specific rider wasn’t an absolute manwhore. Still, it was all in good fun, and Jimin let his eyes slide back. The rider was still looking at him, completely unashamed in his staring.
Maybe that was why Jimin felt bold enough to mouth, “Let’s hope you don’t fall off.”
It almost looked like the cowboy mouthed back, “I never fall off.”
Another snort and, shaking his head, Jimin turned to his beer as the lights began to dim once more. The announcer came back on, sitting atop his horse in the center of the ring with his microphone in hand. Once again, it was almost impossible to tell what he was saying. Maybe if Jimin was actually paying attention, he would’ve been able to make the words out more. Instead, he was too busy trying not to make it obvious that he was watching the bull rider in the second pen. And failing.
Still, he felt bolder now that the lights were slightly dimmed. It was still easy to see the pens, the riders, and the arena, but the lights above the crowd had lowered considerably. One of the bulls rattled the pen, making him jump.
This was insane. At least, no sane person would try this, right? The horses were enough. Shouldn’t they be enough?
Jimin watched in almost-horror as the first contestant went up—and was almost immediately thrown off the bull. It was hard to watch as the rider scrambled up and out of the way, dodging kicking hooves that could kill.
Again and again, riders sat on their bulls, holding tight with one of their hands and trying their very best not to get bucked off. Some lasted a few seconds, tops. Others barely made it out of the pen. And the crowd was going wild the whole time, a chorus of cheers, of “oohs” and “ouchs” echoing throughout the arena. Even so, none of the riders stayed on for the amount of time needed—eight seconds, apparently.
Then, it was his turn.
Jimin watched, beer forgotten in his hand, as the other men surrounding the second pen ducked down. The rider was already atop the bull, caged helmet on and hand working with the strap. One of the men was keeping him steady, while another was trying to keep the bull in place, and a clown was riling up the animal on the other side of the pen door. It was fascinating and saddening all at once—Jimin hated to see it, and yet couldn’t wait to see if the rider succeeded.
The bull rider was adjusting as the announcer droned on and on, hips shifting back and forth. Jimin raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t hard to let his mind sway to other things, grinding and riding and—fuck.
Over the loudspeakers, the announcer’s voice cut through his mind’s haze. “And off his tour, all the—” A raucous cheer. “Our one and only, Jeongguk Jeon!”
Ah. Jeongguk.
The rider—Jeongguk—settled. Nodded. And then the gate to the pen was swinging open, the bull was flying, and Jimin’s heart was leaping into his throat.
It was terrifying. Enthralling. Absolutely batshit insane. Yet, Jimin leaned forward in his seat, watching Jeongguk move with the bull as it spun and bucked violently. He had his helmet on now, thankfully, one arm up in the air while the other held onto the strap for dear life. It felt like it was going on forever, that Jeongguk was going to fall off any minute, that it was only a heartbeat and it was over.
Eight seconds. That was it. Eight seconds, and Jeongguk—the best, saved for last—was the only rider to succeed. At all.
The crowd was cheering, going absolutely wild. Two clowns rushed the bull as the buzzer sounded. Jimin watched with his heart in his throat as Jeongguk slipped his hand out from the strap and dove to the ground, getting up as quickly as possible and getting far out of the way. The bull was ushered back into the main pen, its show over, and Jeongguk, standing in the middle of the ring, pumped his fist to the sound of the roaring audience.
All of a sudden, Jimin kind of got it.
It was easy to get caught up in the rush, to lift his beer to his lips and drink. To set it down and stick two fingers in his mouth, whistling sharply.
Jeongguk turned. As if the whistle had called him, he searched the crowd, landing on the VIP section and, eventually, Jimin. The rider yanked the helmet off his head, dark hair falling into place as the announcer continued to rile up the crowd and the judges deliberated over the score. With an over-the-top wave of his hand, Jeongguk bent over in a bow.
They were close enough that, once he rose, Jimin could see his shit-eating grin.
He rolled his eyes, lifted his beer in cheers and acceptance, and cheered with the rest of the crowd as Jeongguk’s score echoed over the loudspeakers in the arena.
“The judges have decided to award Jeongguk eighty-nine points!”
Jeongguk raked a hand through his hair, tipped his head back to glance up at the giant screens, and waved a big “thank you” to the crowd. Helmet tucked under his arm, he ran back to the pens, handing over his helmet and hauling himself up and over the top of the gate.
Jimin couldn’t help but watch, appreciating his figure as Jeongguk took a seat on top of the pen, ready to watch the last ride. He couldn’t care less about the final rider, actually, unable to keep his eyes off the man who’d just won it all. Jeongguk placed his cowboy hat back on his head, rolled his neck, and flashed Jimin a cocky smile.
He swore he could hear Jeongguk’s mouthed words in his ear, a spine-tingling Southern drawl. Told you so.
The rodeo was over soon after Jeongguk’s show. The bull riding appeared to be the big finale, which made sense, but Jimin was not looking forward to the ride back to his hotel. He’d made some mental notes concerning marketing that he’d discuss with the interested party at their meeting the next day. He hadn’t completely hated his time, however, which was a surprise.
After making his way down the stairs, hoping to duck off to the side and wait for the masses to leave, he decided he liked a little alcove to the left. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time. Just after ten—with any luck, the parking lot will have cleared out a bit in a half hour, and he would be able to drive back without any egregious bumper-to-bumper traffic.
Park Jimin: That wasn’t horrible.
Kim Seokjin: Park Jimin, new rodeo connoisseur.
Park Jimin: New cowboy connoisseur.
Kim Taehyung: ARE THEY HOT
Park Jimin: Very.
Kim Taehyung: I knew it. You taking one home?
Jimin pointedly avoided that question.
Park Jimin: Someone google Jeongguk Jeon for me. It’s too cringe if I do it myself :(
Kim Seokjin: HAHA
Kim Taehyung: … Like, Jeon Jeongguk? The PBR guy?
Park Jimin: Uh. Sure?
Kim Taehyung: oh my fucking god no fucking way
Park Jimin: Big deal?
Kim Taehyung: I’m gonna strangle u
“I hoped you’d still be here.”
Jimin jumped, locking his phone and quickly stashing it in his pocket. He looked up to see the one and only Jeon Jeongguk, leaning against the wall across from him. Shoulders pushed back against the wall, long legs extended in front of him, cowboy boots crossed at the ankles. He looked different without the chaps on, more human. He still wore that dark jacket, the one with all of the logos, his hat sitting on his head and dark waves curling around his ears and neck.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Jimin raised an eyebrow. “Why’s that?”
“Wanted to hear what you thought. It’s your first rodeo, mm?”
“And how’d you guess that?”
Jeongguk made a show of looking him over. Black, heeled boots, tight jeans, white t-shirt and black jacket. The blond hair, the silver earrings hooked into his ears. The thin rings on his fingers, the necklace disappearing into his shirt. He settled on, “You don’t look like you’re from ‘round here.”
Jimin shot him a pointed look. “Neither do you.”
“Adopted,” he said with a slash of a smile. That explained the Korean name, then, as well as his looks. “I never got your name.”
“You didn’t ask.”
“Didn’t ask me for mine, either.”
“Hard not to know when you’re plastered all over the place. Taking some time off the PBR?”
Jeongguk cocked his head to the side, smirking. “Did you look me up?”
Fuck. “Friends did.”
“So, you’re talkin’ about me to your friends already?”
He’d really dug himself into a hole, here. Mentally kicking himself, Jimin did his best to play it off with a nonchalant shrug. “Only about the important things.”
Jeongguk didn’t pry, tipping his head back and looking at Jimin down the length of his nose. He sucked in his cheeks. “You got a name?”
A glance of his tongue over his lips. “Jimin.”
“Just Jimin?”
“Park Jimin.”
“Park Jimin,” Jeongguk repeated, tasting the name on his tongue. It sounded beautiful in that southern lilt of his. Cherished, not derogatory. Jimin felt himself melt a bit inside. “What’re you doing in the VIP section of the rodeo?”
Thirsting over you.
Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best response. He couldn’t actually tell if Jeongguk was flirting, or just curious. There was a low possibility it was the former, but if it was—
“Appreciating the merchandise,” he decided, quite enjoying the playful arch of Jeongguk’s brow. “I was invited as a marketing expert.”
“Ah, trying to bring the crowd, huh?”
“Pretty sure you do that just fine, all by yourself.”
Jeongguk raised one of his shoulders in a shrug. “Anything I can do to help.”
“And, now?”
“Hmm?”
Jimin waved a hand, gesturing around them. “What are you doing here, right now?”
“Talkin’ to you. What about you?”
“Waiting for the parking lot to clear out a bit.”
“Smart.”
“Yeah, well, you know.” He pulled out his phone, hoping for a distraction. More time had passed than he’d thought, actually, which was a good thing. Either way, he wasn’t quite done with Jeongguk yet.
It seemed the other man thought the same. Pushing off the wall, he stalked over to Jimin, boots clicking slightly on the floor. He wore them well. He wore it all well.
“Where you from?” Jeongguk asked, coming to lean against the wall beside him. One of his shoulders rested against the white-painted concrete. His hands were still pushed into the pockets of his blue jeans, faded a bit around the knees. With his golden skin and longer, wavy hair, Jeongguk looked like a wet dream come to life. Or, at least, one of the cowboys on the covers of the steamy books Jimin’s mother used to read.
“Originally? Or now?”
Another smirk. “I can guess the first.”
“Los Angeles. Drove in today.”
Jeongguk’s brows shot up in something like appreciation and awe. “All in one go? Damn, city boy. That’s a lot.”
He couldn’t help but roll his eyes. “No, I stopped in Arizona last night. Over twenty hours in the Civic wasn’t on my to-do list.”
“Good choice.”
“You’re from around here?”
“Now, where’d you hear that?” Jeongguk asked, dark eyes twinkling.
Jimin bit his lower lip. “Some girls were talking about you in the concession line. Couldn’t help but be curious.”
“Yeah?” Jeongguk leaned a little bit closer. “Superfans of mine?”
“Superfans that offered you a good ride,” Jimin said, testing the waters. It was just dipping a toe in. He would’ve rather dove in headfirst, but it was kind of fun to play with the bull rider like this.
Jeongguk hummed, pouting his lips a bit, like he was mulling it over. Eventually, he shrugged. “Yeah, I’m from the area,” he said, moving on just like that. Jimin barely held in his groan of annoyance. “West of Austin. ‘Bout thirty minutes north of here, give or take.”
“Ah.”
“Why? Tryin’ to come check it out?”
That was a line. Jeongguk was definitely flirting, there. With the lilt of his voice and the clench of his jaw, the way his eyes tracked over Jimin once more—the odds he was gay increased tenfold.
Jimin’s phone buzzed. Angling it away from Jeongguk, he pulled it out with a curious furrow of his brow, catching a text from Taehyung. His best friend had only sent over a link to an article, accompanied by a winky face.
Jeongguk Jeon: On Being Out as a Professional Bull Rider.
Ah. Well, that was it, then. Open season.
Tucking his phone back into his back pocket, he relaxed against the wall, messing with his blond hair a bit. If he licked his plush lips and tilted his head to the side, well—he just knew his charms, that was all. “I don’t know,” he murmured, twisting his mouth to the side. “My hotel room bed is calling me.”
“Oh, well, I’m sure I can’t compete with that.”
“Yeah?”
“Mhm. Maybe another time, then.” Jeongguk made no attempts to leave.
Jimin felt warmth beginning to flow through his veins. “Maybe. I’m sure I can find someone to show a city boy like me around these parts. Shouldn’t be too hard.”
Jeongguk shifted, a muscle fluttering in his jaw. “You’d like that, would you?”
“I’d rather have it be you. I’m here for a week, you know.”
“Mm. Might have to make use of that.”
“Maybe,” Jimin trilled with a catlike grin. “I like your hat, Jeongguk.”
Jeongguk tipped his head down, showing it off a bit. “So do I.”
“Suits you,” Jimin said. “Bet it would suit me, too.” Reaching up, he gently pulled it off of Jeongguk’s dark waves, treating it like a prized possession as he set it onto his own head.
Jeongguk looked him over, amusement written across his features. Like there was some joke he was laughing at, one Jimin hadn’t yet been let in on. One of his eyebrows was raised, and his tongue slid across his lips, an appreciative hum sounding in his throat. “It does,” he said, voice rough.
Jimin narrowed his eyes at him. “What?”
“Know what that means, darlin’? You wearin’ my hat?”
“What?”
Jeongguk pulled one of his hands out of his pocket. His arm snaked between them, a finger curling in one of Jimin’s belt loops and easily hauling him closer. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy.”
The response left him in a single rush of air. “Oh.”
“Mhm.” Jeongguk tweaked the hat, pulling it down a little bit in the back, as though he wanted to see Jimin’s face beneath it. His voice pitched lower as he murmured, “I think you should come check out my place.”
“Trying to secure yourself a good ride?”
“Actually, I’m trying to show the pretty city boy what he’ll be marketing.”
Jimin looked up at him, the weight of Jeongguk’s finger in his belt loop strong enough to pull him off a cliff. He was about to fall into this very bad decision. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, Jimin patted Jeongguk’s chest. “Who am I to turn down a tour from an insider?”
A grin lit up the rider’s features. He looked sweet, much more boyish when he smiled like this. “Okay,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”
This was quite a bad idea. And, yet, Jimin couldn’t find himself regretting it as Jeongguk pulled him through the arena and out into the parking lot. They caught some glances, which made Jimin pause in confusion until he realized they were in an arena full of cowboys and he was still wearing Jeongguk’s hat.
Flushing, Jimin let the other man lead him around, a very warm and gentlemanly hand on his elbow. Eventually letting go as they reached a powder-blue truck, Jeongguk leaned against the driver’s side door. “You want to follow me? Or ride along?”
He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “Shouldn’t leave my car here.”
“Yeah. Right. Here, let me give you the address, then.”
Handing over his phone, Jimin watched as Jeongguk plugged the address into his GPS. He held the phone back out, their fingers brushing as Jimin took it in exchange for Jeongguk’s hat, which he plopped back on the rider’s head. His earlier bravado was quickly fading in the cool glow of the parking lot—parking field, really—spotlights. A black boot twisted in the dirt. “See you there.”
“See you, darlin’.”
Jimin barely held back his shiver, teeth pressing into his bottom lip. He took a step back, then another, before turning on his heel and walking back to his Honda. It wasn’t too far, thankfully, but he heard the rumble of Jeongguk’s truck drive by, a blue flash under the spotlights. Hopping in, he gripped the wheel, dropping his head to the cool leather and exhaling.
Well, it looked like he was going to fuck a cowboy. Taehyung and Seokjin were never going to let him hear the end of this, that was for sure.
Jeongguk hadn’t been lying. Thirty minutes later, Jimin was cringing as his Honda bumped along a dirt driveway. The car wash he planned to get after all of this was over was going to be absolutely wonderful.
White fences lit up under the warm glow of his headlights, pastures that seemed to span most of the property. A large house stood to his right, imposing in the dark. The lights were off. Jimin frowned, looking down at his navigation, which was telling him to go further. He knew he was on Jeongguk’s property, based on the large sign that read “Golden Hands Ranch” that he’d passed just around a quarter-mile ago but, apparently, he hadn’t reached Jeongguk’s actual home yet.
Continuing down the dirt road, he went just a little bit farther, quickly noticing a white, ranch-style house sitting off to the left. Jeongguk’s truck was parked out front, the porch light was on, and the windows were emitting a warm glow from inside the house. It was late enough that Jimin didn’t think he’d be getting to the hotel that night. Pulling up beside the powder-blue truck, he quickly called the hotel to let them know he wouldn’t be there that night, but that he’d be there the next morning and would pay to hold the room.
The door to the house opened, and Jeongguk leaned against the frame. His hat was nowhere to be found, neither were his boots. He looked quite normal, standing there in just a black t-shirt and blue jeans, a belt with a thick buckle accentuating his figure. His hair curled around his forehead, parted in the middle, some longer pieces tucked behind his ear.
Jimin swallowed. Reached into the back to grab his bag with the essentials, rolled his shoulders, and climbed out of the car. He took a moment to rest his arm on the open door of his car, jerking his chin toward the dark house down the road. “Who’s house is that?”
“My parents’. My sister lives there too, though.”
With a nod and hum of acknowledgment, Jimin slammed his car door shut and strutted over to the porch steps. Jeongguk met him halfway, gently taking the bag off his shoulder and swinging it over his own.
The house was, frankly, beautiful. Jimin assumed it would look stunning in the morning light. White siding, black windows, dark roof. Wooden pillars held up the roof over the wraparound porch, and an exposed brick chimney jutted up from the front of the house. The porch creaked just right under their feet as Jeongguk held the door open for him—ever the gentleman—and Jimin tried not to gape at the hardwood floors and cozy interior.
It was all just so— big.
His apartment in Los Angeles was a shoebox compared to this, and that was a two-bedroom steal. Even from a quick glance, it was clear Jeongguk had taken the time to make the house feel like home. The soft, warm lighting melted Jimin’s heart a little.
At least, until a flash barrelled past him, making him gasp in shock and back up right into Jeongguk’s chest. The man caught him with a hand on his hip, kindly nudging him to the side as he said, “Sorry, sorry. Should’ve warned you ‘bout that.”
Jimin could only blink and stare as Jeongguk raised his voice and called, “Bailey! C’mon, back inside!”
Pounding footsteps, and then a multicolored dog rushed up the steps of the porch, coming to a graceful halt by Jeongguk’s side. He reached down to give her a good scratch around the collar, before glancing up at Jimin with a smile. “This is Bailey. She’s a really good girl, but she’s young and still gets excited when I come home.”
Bailey was beautiful. Long snout, folded ears, and a gorgeous coat that was perfectly long and fluffy. She was mostly dark brown, with some golden patches and white on her front and stomach. Her tail wagged as she looked up at Jeongguk, nothing but pure adoration and love in her eyes. Jimin was ready to steal her when he heard the pattering of more four-legged footsteps.
Jeongguk looked up, the slightest frown on his features. “And this is Bruno.”
Clearly, Bailey and Bruno were the same breed, though Bruno was far older. Strictly black and white, Bruno’s muzzle was flecked with grey, showing his age. He also walked far slower than Bailey, taking time to stretch in the middle of the hall, as though he’d just woken up from the nap of the century.
Bruno trotted over, bumped Jeongguk’s leg with his nose, and immediately came to greet Jimin. His coat was soft and silky beneath Jimin’s hands. “They’re gorgeous.”
“They’re Shetlands,” Jeongguk said, standing up straighter and puffing out his chest a bit. “They help out on the ranch a lot, but Bails here has been all throughout Texas with me. Isn’t that right, baby?”
Bailey did a quick spin, before sitting at Jeongguk’s side once more. Jimin couldn’t help but smile. “Trained her well, I see.”
“Quite good at it.” One of Jeongguk’s eyes closed in a wink. “Giving orders takes practice, you know.”
“Of course.” He bent down to hide his flush. “How old are they?”
“Bailey’s just about three. Bruno is—well, he’s older than ten, now.”
“Wow,” Jimin breathed. He squatted down, gently caressing Bruno’s face, cooing at the dog. “Still working and being strong, huh?”
“He does his best. The horses recognize him and don’t give him a hard time,” Jeongguk murmured, smiling a bit. “He was my mom’s.”
Ah. He’d landed on a bit of a sore spot, then. Jimin picked up on that use of past tense quickly, rising and rolling his lips into his mouth. “Sorry.”
“Nah, don’t be. The truck’s hers too. I wouldn’t have picked that color.”
“It suits you.”
“Well, thank you, then.”
It was silent for a long minute. Jimin, leaning back against the wall with his hands braced behind his ass, stared at Jeongguk, who stood tall even without his boots on. Finally taking the time to look at him, Jimin was able to study the tattoos that flowed down one of his arms. He would have never been able to see them under that jacket of his, but now that the jacket was nowhere to be seen, it was easy to pick out the different designs that created a whole sleeve. It was surprising. Far outside of the character Jimin had created his image of Jeongguk to be.
One of his thumbs rubbed across his bottom lip. Oh, fuck—they were actually going to do this. Jimin was going to fuck a cowboy after a rodeo.
Bailey stood up again, nudging Jeongguk with her snout in parting, then trotting off into one of the other rooms. Bruno, who had quickly fallen asleep on the floor beside Jimin’s feet, stayed. Just looking at the older sheepdog had Jimin yawning.
He tried hiding it behind his hand, but Jeongguk caught it nonetheless. It spurred him into action, his right arm reaching out to likely walk Jimin further into his house, when it stuttered. Jeongguk winced, but clearly pushed through it, causing Jimin to sidestep out of his reach with a frown. “I saw that.”
“And I saw you yawn,” Jeongguk countered. His arm returned to his side, far too gingerly.
Jimin wasn’t having any of that. “What’s up with your arm?”
It took a long moment, but then Jeongguk sighed, deflating. “It’s my shoulder, actually. I got stuck the other day while riding—threw my shoulder trying to get out. Shouldn’t have ridden today, but—” His left shoulder rose in a shrug. “It’s for the county.”
“Doesn’t it hurt? You should get that checked out.”
“Like a bitch, but I’m sure it’s fine. A few days off and it’ll be good. Just sore.”
He raised an eyebrow, but his severe look was thrown off as he hid another yawn. “You’re not going to fuck me with a bum shoulder.”
Jeongguk smirked, running his tongue over his bottom teeth. “I wasn’t going to fuck you at all when you’re fallin' asleep on your feet.”
“I’m not!”
“Yes, you are. Darlin’, let’s just admit it—it’s not working out for either of us tonight.”
Somehow, that was both a devastating revelation and an extreme relief. Jimin blew out a breath, nodded, and held his hand out for his bag, which Jeongguk had set down on the floor beside him. “I’ll get going, then.”
“Nope,” Jeongguk clucked, toeing Jimin’s bag farther out of his reach. “It’s too late.”
He gaped at the man. “Are you—are you trying to kidnap me right now?”
“Nope.”
“Okay, so—” Jimin splayed his hands in confusion. “Let me go.”
Jeongguk grinned. “Nope.”
“You’re insufferable.”
“Absolutely. But no gentleman would let you leave at this time of night, and it’s probably half an hour to your hotel. I’ve got a spare room upstairs.” Jeongguk bent down to pick up Jimin’s bag, whistling as he strode farther into his house.
“Hey!” Jimin called, going to rush after him, stopping to take off his boots to be polite and losing precious time. Once he was back on the move, he found Jeongguk by the stairs to the second floor. “Uh, I’m not staying here unless this is a one-night stand. That’s an ultimatum.”
Jeongguk, who had already made it to the second stair up, turned. Raised an eyebrow. Shrugged, then quickly descended the stairs, dropping Jimin’s bag lightly onto an armchair. He didn’t stop moving as he approached Jimin, slid a hand around the side of his neck, and kissed him.
It was far too easy for Jimin to melt into the touch, to part his lips and let Jeongguk tip his head back just a little to deepen the kiss. Jeongguk sunk his teeth into Jimin’s lower lip, pulling a gasp from his throat and answering with a content hum of his own. Wrapping his arms around Jeongguk’s back, Jimin slid his hands into the pockets of his jeans and hauled him closer.
Jeongguk’s tongue swept into his mouth. Not overbearing, not too much—just enough to have Jimin’s knees weak and his stomach flipping with arousal. Maybe, maybe he wasn’t too tired for this, actually. If this was the way Jeongguk kissed—
A moan slipped from his throat as Jeongguk placed a leg between Jimin’s own and ground their hips together. He could feel the man smile against his mouth, all teeth and victory. Jeongguk pressed a searing kiss to his lips, another to his jaw, then his throat, and then he was pulling away. His lips were flushed, plump and wet, and Jimin was sure he didn’t look all that much more put-together.
With his hands in Jeongguk’s pockets, he tried to pull the cowboy back in for more, but Jeongguk only stroked his finger over the hollow of Jimin’s throat and murmured, “There. Now you have to stay.”
“You’re the worst,” he said, breath still a bit ragged.
“Come find me in the morning.” With a wink, Jeongguk stepped away, grabbed Jimin’s bag, and climbed the stairs.
Absolutely dumbstruck, Jimin stood in the middle of Jeongguk’s house with his mouth open for a minute. Then, realizing he had no idea where he was going, he quickly followed Jeongguk up the stairs. The upstairs was just as cozy and beautiful as the floor below. Photos in white frames lined the hallway, a little living space resting at the top of the stairs with doors leading off in multiple directions.
Jeongguk leaned in one of the open doorways. “This is the guest room, your bag’s on the chair. That—” He pointed across the way. “Is the bathroom. You need a shower?”
“I’m good.”
“Okay, then I’ll let you do your thing first. My room’s across the way if you need anythin’. Bailey!” There was a pattering of footsteps as Bailey ran up the stairs, wagging her tail at them both before ducking into Jeongguk’s room and leaping up onto the bed. Jeongguk rapped his knuckles on the doorframe, then crossed to his own bedroom, pausing to shoot Jimin a sheepish grin. “She’s a bit spoiled. Gets fussy if she doesn’t sleep with me.”
And, oh, Jimin’s heart melted at that grin. At the love in Jeongguk’s eyes. At the softness in his stature, even though he was considerably larger. All of that work on the ranch had to be keeping him in good shape. Jimin was nothing if not appreciative.
“Hey,” he murmured, watching as Jeongguk paused just before entering his bedroom and turned around with a look of faint concern. “Thank you. Really. This is—kind of you.”
Jeongguk’s lips tugged upwards in a grin. “Of course.”
“Just, don’t kill me, okay? That would really suck.”
With a loud laugh, Jeongguk shook his head and ducked into his bedroom.
There was nothing else to do, then. Jimin raised his eyes to the ceiling, blew out a breath, and went to wash up.
There was something wet on his face. It felt like—licking?
Jimin groaned, waving the nuisance away and trying to roll over. It came back with a lick to his ear that had him awake immediately, almost squealing in disgust. Opening his eyes, he was met with a grinning sheepdog, and all of it came back at once.
“Oh, fuck,” he huffed, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Fuck.”
Bailey flopped down next to him, bumping her snout into his shoulder.
“Yes, hi. I see you.” His voice was rough as he rubbed at one of his eyes, then reached over to give her a good scratch.
How’d she even get in? A quick look at the door showed it to be open. It couldn’t even be that late, yet, based on the faint glow of the sun. He closed his eyes again, ready to fall back asleep with a buddy this time, when he heard more movement outside the door.
“Shit.” Jeongguk’s gruff voice met his ears. “Bailey, c’mon. Out.”
“She’s fine,” Jimin muttered, opening his eyes once more. Jeongguk was standing in his doorway, chest bare and sweatpants hanging low on his hips. The sight was mouthwatering.
“Forgot to tell you she can open doors.”
“Yeah, that would’ve been nice.”
“Sorry. She just needs to go out.”
Jimin hummed. “What time is it?”
“Just before six.”
“Jesus fuck.”
Jeongguk snorted, then clapped his hands once. Bailey leaped out of the bed, coming to his side and standing at attention. “I’ll let you sleep,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Bailey, apologize.”
Jimin watched as she sunk to the floor, threw a paw over her snout, and whined. It was absolutely adorable, and he couldn’t help but smile as he said, “It’s okay, Bailey. Thank you for the snuggles.”
“Let’s go. Come on down whenever you’re up, Jimin.” With that, he shut the door behind him, leaving Jimin to sleep more.
It would have been nice to sleep in, actually, but after dozing for a few minutes, he climbed out of bed. Bailey had been the most effective wake-up call—he couldn’t rest enough to fall back to sleep. With a quick check in the mirror to make sure he was mildly presentable, he threw on a sweatshirt and a pair of sweatpants, slowly making his way downstairs with a yawn.
The smell of coffee met his nose. A breeze fluttered over his face—the back door had been left open, the morning air crisp and clean. It must be nice to have this every day, the clean air, chirping birds, back door left open. No honking traffic, no smoke, no rush.
It was easy to find his way into the kitchen. Jeongguk was leaning against the counter, a mug of coffee in his hand and his phone in the other. He looked like a walking wet dream. One of his dark eyebrows raised when Jimin walked in, but he didn’t comment on his early start. “Want coffee?”
God, that southern drawl was even tastier in the morning. All gruff and dripping with honey. Jimin nodded, watching as Jeongguk turned to pour him some from the pot. “Milk’s in the fridge. Sugar’s on the counter. Have at it,” he said, passing the mug to Jimin from across the counter island. “Breakfast? I can make eggs, or Dad will be makin’ pancakes for Winter soon at the big house. Your choice.”
Jimin took a sip of his coffee—he thought it would wake him up more if he left it black—then paused. “Who’s Winter?”
“My sister. She’s home from college.”
He decided that meeting the family was a bit too much. “Eggs are fine. Thanks.”
“Got it. You mind calling Bailey and Bruno? They’re out back.”
“Mhm.” Climbing off his stool, he carried his mug into the living room, standing at the door to peer out over the land.
Rolling hills, pastures, and fields. It was beautiful, to say the least. He could imagine Jeongguk here every morning, sitting on the step with his coffee, watching his sheepdogs roam the land. Bruno might curl up at his feet while Bailey runs around, eventually coming back to ask for some love. Jeongguk would spend the day on his horse, doing—well, whatever it was he did.
“Just whistle once. They’ll come,” Jeongguk called from the kitchen.
Two fingers in his mouth, Jimin whistled. In the distance, he could see Bailey whirl around and begin running back. Bruno turned the corner, clearly sticking close to the house. He reached Jimin first, asking for a scratch, then stepping inside and heading straight for his water bowl. Bailey ran like a bullet, but slowed before she bowled him over, leaping gracefully into the house and darting into the kitchen to look for her master.
Now that they were finished, Jimin slid the back door shut. It moved quickly, without a single squeak, clearly greased and well-loved. Even the smallest things had been attended to in this house.
“How long have you been here?” He asked, padding back into the kitchen.
Jeongguk was at the stove, frying up some bacon as he cracked eggs into a separate skillet. His bare back flexed as he moved and, further down, two dimples were showcased by the sweatpants that hung low on his hips. The lines of him were mouthwatering. “Forever. Built the place myself.”
Jimin blinked. “You built a house? ”
“Well, no. Kind of. Some of the guys helped, and we had contractors, but a lot of it is my own doing. Or input.”
“Wow. Are you here a lot? I heard you were touring.”
Jeongguk glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “You keep hearin’ these things about me, huh?”
“Shut up.”
“Yeah, I’m here most of the time,” he said, shoulders shaking with a laugh as he turned back to the stove. “Dad needs help, you know. And it’s not like I’m there every weekend—I’ll do some nights here and there, all of the ranked rides too.” The spatula he was holding scraped against the pan. “But, yeah. I’m usually right here.”
Jimin shifted his grip on the mug in his hands. “It must be nice.”
“Yeah? You travel a lot?”
“No, it’s just—” He waved a hand, gesturing at the space around them. Jeongguk, with his back turned, didn’t see. “Your house, the ranch. The view. The air. Your family. All that stuff is just nice, you know?”
A shrug. Jimin noticed his right shoulder was moving a bit better. “Never really known any different. Don’t really know how to do anything else.”
The words settled like a weight between them. Jimin swallowed, doing his best to think of a good response—and failing miserably. Eventually, he just shot Jeongguk a weak smile when the man turned around, pan in hand.
Jeongguk pointed to a cabinet with his spatula. “Mind grabbing some plates?” Shaking his head, Jimin hopped to it, opening the cabinet and collecting two plates, setting them down opposite one another on the counter island. Jeongguk shoveled some eggs onto each, dark eyes flicking up. “Silverware’s next to the sink. Bacon?”
“Yes, please.” He did as he was told, even if Jeongguk hadn’t actually requested it, pulling out the drawer next to the sink and grabbing a knife and fork for each of them.
It was quiet as they settled across the counter from each other. Silverware scraped against their porcelain plates as they ate, Jimin checking his phone while Jeongguk snuck Bruno some bits of bacon. The air felt—light. Easy. Comfortable and warm.
Jimin attributed it to the fact that they hadn’t slept together the night before.
Everything was so much more awkward after hooking up. Seeing someone naked felt irreparable, sometimes. And while he was a proud supporter of one-night stands, this morning with Jeongguk felt almost innocent. Like a bed-and-breakfast, or something. He wasn’t completely sure. It didn’t matter.
He checked his messages and cringed.
Kim Taehyung: Are you dead???? Did Mr. Cowboy’s dick ruin you????
Park Jimin: I wish. But no. We didn’t fuck.
Kim Seokjin: Lame.
Park Jimin: Good morning to you too!
Kim Taehyung: … why does your location show you’re at a house though …
Park Jimin: ttyl
Kim Taehyung: HEY GET BACK HERE
Biting down on his lower lip to hide his grin, Jimin set his phone to the side, letting it buzz furiously for a minute or two. Jeongguk glanced at it with a raised eyebrow, but didn’t comment. On that, at least. “So, marketing, huh?”
“Mhm,” he hummed, taking another sip of his coffee. It was quite good. “Marketing, PR, the whole thing.”
“You love it?”
Jimin shot him a scathing look. Jeongguk only laughed, leaning back on his stool and drumming his fingers on the table. “Forgive me for asking.”
“Do you love your job?”
“Ranchin’? Or ridin’?”
“Both.”
“Yeah,” he said, like it was final. His eyes almost gleamed as he turned to gaze out the window over the sink. “I do. All of it, actually.”
That wistful gaze had Jimin’s attention completely leaving his phone, his friends, his job. “What about it?”
Jeongguk snorted, shooting him a sideways glance. “Are you going to use this for your PR schtick?”
“Maybe,” he hummed with a wink.
Another laugh, but the man conceded with a sigh. “It’s—calming. Like something I’ve just been born and bred to do. I’m sure I’ll do it for the rest of my life, just like Bruno and my dad.”
“And, you’re okay with that? No desire to do anything else?”
“Like what? Marketing?”
Jimin got the point. “Yeah, alright. You’ve got me there.” He went quiet, finishing his coffee and setting his mug down. After a beat, he pushed off his stool, collecting his plate and Jeongguk’s own, moving to wash them in the sink.
Water spilled over his hands as he scrubbed the plates, feeling as though he should do his part. It didn’t feel like a chore, not when he could stare out of the giant window before him, at the pastures and the sun breaking over the horizon. It framed the big house up the road in an almost holy glow. Jimin’s ears strained to hear the honk of a car horn, coming up empty. Nothing but that quiet stillness, the occasional chirp of a bird.
The heat of a gaze burned his back. Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Jeongguk watching him, one elbow propped up against the counter island. All toned, golden muscle and soft brown eyes. Bailey padded into the kitchen, looked between the two of them, and flopped onto the floor in front of the oven.
“What?” Jimin asked, lips twisting to the side.
“Nothin’.”
He could feel his cheeks heating. “Stop it.”
Jeongguk’s tiny smirk finally broke into a grin. “I do have a dishwasher, you know.”
Ah. “Yeah, I know. I’m right here.”
Jeongguk seemed to like that one, shaking his head with a little chuckle. He rose off his own stool, stretching—which caused his sweatpants to slide lower on his hips, which then caused Jimin’s mouth to water—and bending down to ruffle the fur on Bailey’s stomach. Jimin finished drying the dishes, putting them back where he’d found them, as Jeongguk’s voice sounded in his ear. “I’ve got to tend to the horses. You in?”
Horses? Jesus.
Turning, he caught Jeongguk leaning his hip against the counter, only a breath away from Jimin’s side. The rider looked coy, playful. Like it wasn’t before seven in the morning. Like Jimin wasn’t basically a stranger in his home, blond and proper and manicured. “I should get back to the hotel. Get ready for that meeting.”
“Sure.”
“Sure?”
Jeongguk pushed his tongue into his cheek, jerking his chin upward once. It was almost debauchery. “Sure.”
He didn’t bother to contain his scoff. “Oh, fuck off.”
“What? What’d I do?”
“You know what you did.”
“Yeah?” Jeongguk leaned closer, breath grazing Jimin’s jaw. “What’s that?”
He should have moved away. Should have rolled his eyes and stepped out of Jeongguk’s warmth.
Instead, he reached up, catching Jeongguk’s lower lip between his thumb and forefinger, tugging gently. Lowered his voice and purred, “You want to fuck me so bad.”
Jeongguk snapped his teeth. “I do.”
“Guess you’ll just have to find another excuse to call me, then.” Swiping his thumb over Jeongguk’s lips once, Jimin stepped away, biting at the inside of his cheek. “Let me go collect my stuff.”
Jeongguk threw his head back with a groan, but let him go, waving him off with a grumble. It was hard not to laugh at his dramatics. Still, something warmed in his chest as he climbed the stairs, hand sliding up the banister. A patter of footsteps had him turning to see Bruno following him up the stairs.
Crouching down at the top, Jimin gave him a little love and a kiss between the ears. He’d never had pets of his own, but he could see the appeal, now. A little part of him was mourning his departure, he realized as he packed up his duffel. The beautiful scenery, the silence, the house, the dogs, Jeongguk—it was all too tempting.
It didn’t take him long to finish. He changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt that just brushed his waistband, sliding on his boots. Remaking the bed and zipping up his bag felt oddly final, even with Bruno by his side.
“Alright there, city boy?”
He jumped at the sound of Jeongguk’s drawl, shaking his head and grabbing the strap of his duffel. “All good.” There he was, leaning against the doorframe, still shirtless and still oh-so-handsome. He raised a single eyebrow, and Jimin sighed, gazed to the ceiling, and added, “I’m a bit jealous.”
“Of?”
“You. This.”
Jeongguk softened, rolling off the doorframe and striding closer. He eased the duffel strap off Jimin’s shoulder. “You could stay, you know. I wouldn’t mind.”
“I couldn’t impose.”
“And I’m tellin’ you that you can.”
Adamant, Jimin shook his head. “No, I paid for the hotel. I’ve got meetings in the city, and—”
“And a lot of excuses,” he said, smiling softly. “I get it. I’ll walk you to your car.”
Something deflated in his chest. “Yeah. Okay.”
It was a quiet walk outside. Jeongguk in his bare feet, Jimin dressed and ready to check into his hotel, Bailey and Bruno at their feet. Unlocking his Civic, he let Jeongguk set his duffel into the backseat and close the door. The birds chirped overhead, and Jimin swore he could hear the horses huffing in the stables down the path. He almost wished he’d seen them.
With a faint smile of goodbye, Jimin went to climb into his car, but Jeongguk caught his belt loop and held him back. “Wait.”
His stomach flipped. “What?”
“Let me give you my number.”
Jimin’s smile was wry. “For whenever I’m back in Texas.”
Jeongguk’s other hand came up, wrapping around Jimin’s waist and squeezing. “For whenever you want. Whatever you want.”
It wasn’t a hard decision. Not really. “Okay,” he murmured, fishing his phone out of his jeans and holding it out.
Jeongguk removed his hands from Jimin slowly, as if it pained him to do so. He took the phone with a reverence Jimin hadn’t yet seen, plugging in his number and handing it back almost shyly. Those hands found him once more, one finger hooked in his belt loop and a thumb brushing over his cheekbone, reeling him in. Breath fluttered over his cheek as Jeongguk murmured, “See you, city boy.”
Jimin’s exhale was shaky as Jeongguk unraveled himself and took a few steps back, one corner of his lips quirking upwards. With a half-hearted glare, Jimin opened his car door and called, “I’ll be watching you on TV, you know. So you better win.”
Sliding into his car and slamming his door with a huff, he watched through the windshield as Jeongguk’s shoulders shook with a laugh, his chin dropping as he nodded in acquiescence. With a small smile of his own, Jimin started his car, watched Jeongguk call the dogs back inside and lift his hand in a final wave, then shifted into reverse and began his way back down the road leaving Golden Hands Ranch.
He only looked back once.
Jeongguk was standing on the porch, leaning forward with his forearms braced on the railing, watching him leave.
Something twisted violently in his chest, and Jimin didn’t look back again.