Bamboo stick up your ass

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JIMIN opened the newspaper yet again and looked up at the building that he hoped to move into.

It was enormous, almost a skyscraper and he scarcely could believe his luck at having scored a steal of a price. He did wonder who his landlord or landlady was, as tucked a bit of his fake hair behind his ears. Would it be a salacious old man like Jungkook predicted, or would it be an angelic grandmother who needed a young girl to chatter away to?

Only time would tell.

And time really needed to make a move, because Jimin was one impatient bitch.

*

Apprehensive, Jimin waited for the landlord, or lady, to open the door after he rang the pristine door bell. It looked so polished that Jimin could see his reflection in it. And no, it wasn't made of metal but of humble plastic.

Whoever lived behind that door was definitely someone who liked his house clean and that was a great pity, since Jimin wasn't exactly the ambassador of WHO. Oh well, at least he wasn't Namjoon.

Oh well, it was still early days to make assumptions, especially when the mystery person hadn't made an appearance yet.

Just then, the door swung open and Jimin could swear he almost dropped his panties down for a second. He couldn't thank Hoseok enough for dolling him up to look like a pretty maid (even if it diminished his proud masculinity by a bit).

Before him stood a man that defied that all men are equal before the Almighty. Even if he was going to hell for being gay, Jimin couldn't thank his stars enough for making him live to see this day.

His landlord (a win for the gays) was a masterpiece molded in flesh by the most delicate hands in the world. The little mole adorning the tip of his nose was the cherry on top and Jimin most definitely wouldn't mind liking cream off his beautiful, long arms.

Oh, dear. He was already immersed in unholy thoughts.

"Yes?" The exquisitely crafted man asked, looking exactly like an exquisitely crafted Godiva chocolate and oh Jungkook's thighs, Jimin wouldn't mind letting him melt in his mouth.

Oh for the love of rainbows and the holy unicorn, snap out of it.

"I, uh, came here because of the ad in the newspaper? I am Park Jimin, we spoke on the phone?"

Jimin couldn't fathom how much he hated his disguise squeaky voice. The last thing any gay man needed, was to be treated as a woman (except perhaps on Twitter). And this felt like suicide to the teashop owner, as he shivered uncomfortably in his heels, dress (which reached his ankles) and wig.

"Oh yeah, I remember. Come on in," said the Greek God and oh mother's womb, how deep was his voice. Jimin wouldn't mind throating him as deep-

Now there was a line to even gay-dreaming. And you, you dirty, insolent mind, you've crossed that too.

"I said, come in," repeated his (hopefully) landlord.

Oh, he's a top alright. So far, so good.
Okay that's it, shut up pervert brain, Jimin thought.

"Is something wrong? Are you feeling well?"

"I'm feeling top-notch, I assure you! Show me around, your highness!"

And in that minute, Jimin wished he could kick his own bubbly butt.

And so did his landlord, but in his case it was the whole body and not just the ass.

"Very well," coughed the man, gesturing for Jimin to step inside.

Had Jimin been a more self-respecting man, he would have still endured some remnants of shame as he stepped into the drawing room. However, that wasn't the case and the minute Park Jimin lay foot in the drawing room, it felt like he had suddenly borrowed a gadget from Doraemon and that gadget allowed humans to enter a magazine.

Basically the house was photoshoot-worthy and needless to say, the unnecessary description was to increase the word count of this chapter. Jimin took a respectful pause to admire the little detailing that went into the house décor - the ivy green walls covered with glass shelves that held pretty porcelain teapots and ornamental pot plants, the curtains that rippled like water revealing a spectacular balcony offering a view to die for, the bookcase that looked like it was filled with loads of ancient literature but turned out to be a wine cabinet.  

"You have a beautiful house, Mr. ...?"

"Taehyung, Kim Taehyung. Yes, that's why you're here, right? Fancy a tour?"

Wow, rude.

"Sure!" Jimin smiled brightly, not unlike a doormat protagonist in a typical shoujo.

*

"I don't have words for your apartment. It's beyond amazing," Jimin admitted.

"Can you stop calling it an apartment? It's very clear that it's a penthouse, not an apartment," Taehyung groaned.

Sighing, he strolled into his aesthetic kitchen and started making some aesthetic tea in an aesthetic kettle. Once it began to sing, Taehyung removed it from heat and poured it into some aesthetic cups and carried it outside to where Jimin sat on the sofa, still flabbergasted about the fact that he would soon move into the apart - sorry, penthouse.

Even if the results of his interview were still in the dark.

"I hope you don't mind oolong?" Taehyung queried, as he set the cups on the small glass table in front of the sofa.

Jimin shook his head.

"It's personally a bit too sweet for my taste but its soothing aroma diminishes my dislike by a great deal," Jimin said, picking up a cup.

"I didn't expect you to know so much about tea," Taehyung said, clearly surprised.

"I do run a teashop for business," Jimin smiled, before he could stop himself.

It was only after Taehyung exhaled a puzzled "oh?", that he realized that he might have given away a little too much information.

"May I ask where?"

"In northern Seoul. Definitely not close to your home," Jimin lied, rather unconvincingly but Taehyung bought it.

"What about travel, then? Won't it be a hazard for you to move in here, if your shop is so far?"

Jimin cursed himself for not overseeing this question.

Composing himself, he glibly replied:

"It won't be too big of a problem; my employees are supposed to arrive before me, anyways. So this gives them time to clean up and prepare."

What a bunch of lies, Jimin spitefully added in his mind. Namjoon and Seokjin had sex first thing in the morning and then arrived an hour later than they were supposed to.

Again, Taehyung seemed satisfied with his answer. Since the silence was too excruciatingly painful for him, Jimin blurted:

"Well? When do I move in?"

Taehyung arched an elegant eyebrow.

"Are you certain you've got the "apartment", Ms. Park?"

"H-haven't I?"

"No, you don't match my qualifications for an ideal tenant. But congratulations, you've got the apartment. I expect the cheque by no more than a week after you move in," Taehyung drawled, picking up their empty cups.

"Wait, what?" Jimin stood up, almost forgetting his shrill voice.

Taehyung rolled his eyes.

"Did you actually think any girl in her right mind would even bother coming for an interview with an advertisement like that? Wait, you did. So, congratulations. I expect the cheque in no more than a week, unless you don't want to move in. Which is fine by me," he sneered and went back to his kitchen.

Now, whoever had shoved a bamboo stick up the attractive asshole's ass?

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