Chapter Text
The city lights are always so beautiful at night, Jungkook thinks. So many different colours, so many pinpricks of light on the horizon, just like stars in the sky. It’s beautiful enough to wrap around him and transport him altogether, to somewhere different, somewhere quiet and calm and radiant. That’s what he tells himself, anyway, stuck in the middle seat in the back of a taxi, in between his very loudly bickering roommates.
“I literally never said that,” Taehyung insists, leaning forwards to look around Jungkook, who in the moment, really, truly wishes that he was dead.
“No, see, what you’ve just done there is lie,” Jimin replies haughtily, arms folded. “So you’re a liar, now.”
“Oh, you want to talk about lying? I will text your mother right now and tell her where you really were that day in tenth grade when you were late for your dentist appointment.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“Try me.”
Jungkook takes a deep, long-suffering breath. At least they’re almost to their destination.
Namjoon and Seokjin had invited them all to another house party, though a much more intimate one, this time, just the seven of them, like before his performance with Yoongi. Jungkook is quite excited to spend more time with everybody, honestly, having really enjoyed the whole vibe last time they were all together. He’s a little bit excited about seeing Yoongi, too. Just a little bit.
Their last couple of weekends together have been - perfect, there’s no other way to describe it. Jungkook feels closer and closer to Yoongi every time he sees him, feels, dangerously, like his feelings for his hyung are mounting more and more. He’s in way too deep already, the water way over his head, and he doesn’t even miss the taste of fresh air.
Even during the weekdays, when it’s a little too difficult to see Yoongi, Jungkook feels like he walks with lighter steps. It’s easier to sit through the events volunteer meetings, easier to stare into Cheon Yejin’s stupid face without banging his head on the desk, easier to complete his projects on time, even with Jimin and Taehyung doing war reenactments throughout the apartment. Everything is just easier, everything makes total sense. And Jungkook knows why.
Yoongi and Hoseok are running a little late, according to Yoongi’s messages to Jungkook, so Jungkook has already resolved to wait outside for Yoongi, wanting to have a private moment together before they enter the party. Jimin and Taehyung will surely have something to say about that, but Jungkook doesn’t let himself think about it, not just yet.
“You know what, I know exactly where you hide your stash of takis, and I’m going to tell everyone.”
“Don’t you dare! I have to order those online!”
“Anywhere here is fine, thanks,” Jungkook says to the driver, loud enough to snap his idiot friends out of their bickering.
They clamber out of the taxi, Taehyung immediately forgetting the argument and trying to raid Jimin’s pockets for some mints.
“Coming, Kookie?” Jimin asks, smacking Taehyung away.
“I’m gonna wait here for Yoongi-hyung,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant.
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Ugh, of course you are. You’re disgusting.”
“Yeah, stop having feelings for people. It’s gross.”
“Just kidding. Love you.”
“You look great.”
They disappear into the building, the sound of their resumed argument echoing down the hallway until they enter the elevator. It’s a little chilly out, not icy, like last weekend, but still cold enough that Jungkook has to zip up his hoodie and shove his hands into his pockets.
It isn’t too long until another taxi pulls up, the door closest to Jungkook opening and a very excited Hoseok climbing out.
“Jay Kay!” he shouts, opening his arms wide in greeting. Jungkook has to laugh.
“Hi, Hobi-hyung,” he mumbles embarrassedly, returning Hoseok’s hug.
Yoongi climbs out next, immediately diverting Jungkook’s attention. Yoongi always looks hot in Jungkook’s eyes, but goddamn it, it’s something else entirely to watch him walking over, running his hand through his black hair, the way it kind of parts down the middle, drawing even more attention to those dark, feline eyes. He’s wearing an oversized, khaki green shirt under a military jacket, faded and ripped jeans and some air jordans. His jewellery has made a reappearance, several necklaces and rings glittering at his throat and on his fingers. Jungkook thinks he might die.
“Move.” Yoongi unceremoniously shoves Hoseok out of the way before he turns to Jungkook, smiling, his gaze raking over Jungkook hungrily as though trying to make up for lost time.
Hoseok squawks with indignation, heading into the building and muttering grumpily. Yoongi watches him leave before he steps forward, taking one of Jungkook’s hands in his own. “Hey, baby.”
“Hi, hyung,” Jungkook says, cursing the way his voice comes out an octave higher than usual.
“You look absolutely fucking ridiculous,” Yoongi tells him conversationally. He holds out their linked hands, looking again at Jungkook’s outfit. Jungkook hasn’t really dressed up, in his opinion, throwing on a big black t-shirt and tucking it into some very baggy jeans, his favourite belt tucked through the loops. He has an old favourite flannel shirt and a thick hoodie over the top, and his favourite pair of chunky black boots. He flushes at the compliment, all the same.
“You think?” he asks shyly, kind of preening a little bit.
It absolutely works, he thinks, when Yoongi reaches up and tries to wrap those long fingers around Jungkook’s waist. “I love seeing your waist,” he mumbles. “Tiny.”
“You look ridiculous, too,” Jungkook says, arms draping over Yoongi’s shoulders. “I like when you wear jewellery.”
“Yeah? You like that?” Yoongi grins, his voice dipping lower, moving closer. Jungkook’s stomach dips down to somewhere near his pelvis, as it always seems to do around Yoongi.
To avoid having to respond, Jungkook leans forward, pressing his lips against Yoongi’s. It’s so good after a week apart, so overdue, that he actually lets out a sigh against his hyung’s lips, and he can feel Yoongi smiling against him.
“C’mon, let’s go,” Yoongi says when they break apart, nudging their noses together. He finds Jungkook’s hand with his own and intertwines their fingers, keeping Jungkook close by his side as he guides them into the building. Jungkook has to admit, he kind of likes this, how their hands fit together, how the slightly rough pads of Yoongi’s fingers smooth over his knuckles.
Namjoon and Seokjin live up on the fifteenth floor, so the elevator takes a moment, but Yoongi seems to definitely want to make the most of that time, crowding Jungkook up against the wall and peppering his face and jaw with kisses until Jungkook is giggling like a child.
“What if someone comes in?” Jungkook splutters, trying to push Yoongi away but also, kind of, holding him closer.
“Practice for one of our shows,” Yoongi murmurs, grinning against Jungkook’s throat, and Jungkook nearly chokes to death.
As always, they can hear Hoseok’s screeching and Seokjin’s window-wiper laugh through the door, before they even enter the apartment. Yoongi squeezes Jungkook’s hand, fingers still woven together.
“Is this okay, in there?” Yoongi asks, turning to Jungkook, his eyes flickering down to their hands.
Jungkook isn’t sure what Yoongi means, at first, thinking - of course it’s okay, Jungkook has never wanted to go further than arm’s reach from Yoongi, not since their first date. Then, he realises - he means their friends. They haven’t really presented as a couple yet, not in front of the others. They’ve been a little handsy with each other, sure, but that doesn’t always mean a lot. Yoongi just wants to make sure Jungkook is comfortable, and Jungkook has no doubt that Yoongi would drop his hand at once if it was what he wanted, but - Jungkook can see hopefulness and sincerity in Yoongi’s dark eyes, and he just kind of melts.
“Yeah,” he replies, shifting closer to his hyung. He wants to say something, teetering on the edge of it, feeling a premature blush in his cheeks, before he throws all caution to the wind. “I want everyone to see that I’m yours.”
Jungkook watches the spread of colour rising in Yoongi’s cheeks, wanting to press his lips against the flushing skin, to see if it’s as warm as it looks. He also sees something possessive and warm glinting in Yoongi’s eyes, and the weight of the elder’s gaze is so intense that he has to look away.
Yoongi leads the way into the apartment, still holding on tightly to Jungkook’s hand. It’s a lot quieter than it was last time, Jungkook notes, remembering the sea of bodies and the strong smell of alcohol. The apartment seems a lot bigger, a lot cleaner now, the furniture modern and kind of masculine. He spots their friends; Namjoon and Seokjin digging in cabinets for cups; Hoseok and Jimin on the sofa; Taehyung sitting on the arm of the sofa, his legs in Jimin’s lap. Namjoon looks up at the sound of the door, beaming his dimpled smile in welcome.
“Hi, guys!” he calls, waving enthusiastically, sending a thankfully closed bottle of alcohol tumbling over. “Oops, sorry, hyung.”
“Good lord, Namjoon,” Seokjin grumbles, quickly grabbing the bottle. “Hey, kids. Go get comfy.”
Jungkook notices the way their eyes drop down to his and Yoongi’s hands, the slight smile on Namjoon’s face as he exchanges a pointed glance with Seokjin. It makes him shy, but kind of smug, too.
“Hyung, Jungkookie, come here,” Taehyung calls, waving them over. He has one arm around Jimin’s shoulders, one of Jimin’s arms tight around his waist. “Hobi-hyung has a cup of tea.”
“No, Taehyung, you just say ‘tea’, you don’t need to say anything about a cup.”
“But what is the tea in? What, he’s just holding it in his hands? He’ll get burns.”
Jungkook watches as Hoseok catches Yoongi’s eye, shaking his head with exasperation. He, too, notices the fact that they’re holding hands, and his face immediately splits into that warm, heart-shaped smile, but he mercifully chooses not to comment.
“Did you resolve your argument, then?” Jungkook directs his question to his roommates, dropping down into an armchair and slouching out of his hoodie and flannel shirt. Yoongi perches on the arm next to him, his hand slipping around Jungkook’s back to card through his hair.
“What argument?” Jimin frowns.
“In the taxi, you were going on about - you know what, never mind,” Jungkook shakes his head, leaning more heavily into Yoongi’s frame. He feels warm, his movements heavy and slow, just from Yoongi’s body heat - he hasn’t even had a drink yet.
“We have never once had an argument,” Taehyung says, holding a hand to his chest, wounded. “Why would you say such things?”
“Anyway, Hoseok-hyung had something to tell us about Seokjin-hyung, something that concerns you two.” Jimin leans forward conspiratorially, dropping his voice and pointing at Jungkook and Yoongi.
Jungkook looks up at Yoongi, frowning, to see that his hyung looks as clueless as he does. Yoongi quirks an eyebrow, glancing towards the kitchenette to make sure the others aren’t listening, before he fixes his gaze on Hoseok.
“But hyung barely knows Jungkook,” he murmurs, fingers tightening on Jungkook’s nape protectively in a way that makes Jungkook’s breath catch in his throat.
“He knows him pretty well, from what I’ve heard,” Hoseok grimaces, leaning his chin on his hand. “Hyung, don’t get mad at anyone, okay? It’s nobody’s fault.”
“What is it?” Yoongi asks urgently, straightening up and leaning towards Hoseok. Jungkook can feel anxiety rolling off Yoongi’s body and he rests his arm over Yoongi’s lap, finding his other hand with his own.
“So, hyung messaged me a few days ago, really upset about something,” Hoseok whispers, glancing periodically over to make sure they aren’t overheard. “I called him, and he was like, freaking out. He said that he was -” Hoseok raises his hands, forming exaggerated quotation marks with his fingers. “- ‘browsing the internet’, when he came across a site, I guess your site, and he - well, he saw the link to Jungkook’s show. He recognised him. He’s real upset.”
Jungkook groans, burying his face in his hands, his cheeks burning with shame. He hears Yoongi swear somewhere above him, feels Yoongi’s large palm soothing over his shoulders.
“What did you tell him?”
“Well, he was mostly upset because he thought Kookie was doing it behind your back,” Hoseok replies. “I told him that you knew, but I didn’t say anything else. I think - I think he wants to stage some kind of intervention tonight. I wanted you both to know. To - be prepared.”
Jungkook resurfaces, turning helplessly to Yoongi. Nerves begin to roil, thick and heavy in his stomach. “Hyung,” he bleats sadly.
“I know, baby,” Yoongi shushes him, pulling him closer. “If it happens, we’ll talk to them. We’ll open up about everything, okay?”
“Jungkookie,” Taehyung says, his voice much kinder than usual. Jungkook looks over. “You told us, and we understood. We’re trying to be supportive. I’m sure that the hyungs can be supportive too, once they hear the whole story.”
“He’s right,” Jimin nods, fixing Jungkook with a sympathetic smile. “We’ll back you up.”
“Yeah, we will,” Hoseok adds, reaching out and squeezing Jungkook’s arm. “No worries.”
“Do you need a minute?” Yoongi asks, ducking close to Jungkook. Jungkook is still nervous, still feels the urge to crack his knuckles and chew at the flesh of his lips, but he feels - a little bit soothed. He’s touched, really, that his friends are being so kind to him, that Yoongi is right by his side, as ever.
“I’m okay,” he says, trying to smile. He looks around at everyone, nodding, taking a deep breath. “It’s fine. We’ll work it out.”
Just as some concern starts to lift from everyone’s faces, Seokjin and Namjoon appear close by, carrying a tray of shots and a box of beers. “Alright, children, if anyone spills on my furniture, I will be waxing your full body for charity and using the funds to have it professionally cleaned.”
“Sounds like you just want to see us naked, hyung,” Hoseok snickers, though he quickly stifles it after a look from Seokjin.
Everyone takes a shot of soju and clinks their glasses together, knocking back the sweet liquor. Jungkook catches Yoongi’s eye, just before he takes his shot, and he isn’t entirely sure if the low burn is from the alcohol or Yoongi’s gaze.
Someone starts playing music, the playlist switching between hip-hop, presumably for Namjoon and Yoongi’s benefit, to all manner of girl groups, which gets Jimin squealing. Jungkook makes his way through another few shots, a couple of bottles of beer, and he starts to feel pleasantly buzzed. From the looks of it, so does Yoongi, sticking close to his side, his smile turning lazier and lazier. Their friends, too, start to get a bit livelier, Seokjin continually supplying them all with alcohol, Hoseok’s limbs starting to explode outwards as they tend to do. Jungkook likes the company. They make him laugh, they make him feel safe. It’s nice.
A few more drinks later, and Jungkook finds himself perching on a kitchen counter with Seokjin and Hoseok, watching them animatedly debate about some k-drama they’d been watching.
“No, and that’s the thing, the twist was so obvious,” Seokjin says, gesturing wildly. “The whole thing with dramas is that,” he holds up his fingers, counting down. “One of them is either dead all along, some kind of mythical creature, a chaebol, or - secretly a different gender.”
“I didn’t see it coming!” Hoseok pouts. “I was really surprised!”
“This is why I think my new drama will be really popular, I keep telling everybody this,” Seokjin says, setting down his drink so that he can better explain. “So, I play a cop, right, and he’s a real hard-ass, but he’s secretly nice, okay -”
Jungkook tunes them out, sipping on his beer, his eyes scanning the room. Taehyung and Namjoon are wailing along to a ballad that’s playing, and Yoongi - Yoongi is leaning against the wall, looking extremely flustered, talking to Jimin. Jungkook strains his ears, trying to listen, or lip-read, whichever comes easier. Jimin is facing away from him, holding onto Yoongi’s shoulder with one hand, a beer in the other.
“I know, I know. I won’t, I promise,” Yoongi says embarrassedly, fingers running through his hair.
Jimin says something else, shoving Yoongi lightly, and Yoongi laughs, scrunching up his face as though hearing something extremely awkward.
“God, yes, okay, yes,” he laughs, blushing. His gaze flickers over to Jungkook, their eyes meeting, and Yoongi grins, biting down on his lip. He doesn’t look like he needs rescuing, however, as Jimin turns away, grinning mischievously, so Jungkook returns the smile brightly, waving.
When he refocuses to the hyungs at his side, Seokjin is stomping over to the sofa, presumably to try and shove something into Namjoon’s mouth to make him stop hollering. “Poor Namjoon,” Hoseok sighs, clucking sympathetically. “He tries.”
Jungkook sniggers, taking another swig of his beer. “He’s funny,” he says, watching as Seokjin changes the song to something much more upbeat.
“Hey, Kookie, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Hoseok says, and Jungkook notices the careful friendliness in Hoseok’s voice. Hoseok shifts closer to him, their arms almost pressing together. “About Yoongi.”
“Oh?” Jungkook says, those nerves returning in his stomach. His teeth clink against the mouth of the bottle.
“Don’t be nervous, it’s totally fine,” Hoseok smiles. “Just - how are you guys? Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, hyung. We’re great - I think, anyway,” Jungkook replies, laughing shyly.
“I know it’s a little awkward, because I’m his friend, but - you like him, right?”
Jungkook lets out a rather unsightly snort at that, because - understatement of the fucking century - before clapping his hand to his mouth. Hoseok raises his eyebrows but laughs, nudging Jungkook. “Sorry, um - yes, I - I like him a lot.”
Hoseok nods, still smiling, seemingly satisfied. “Yeah. I just wanted to check. He -” Hoseok glances over his shoulder, checking they aren’t overheard. “He really likes you, too. I’ve never actually seen him like this, with anyone.”
Jungkook flushes furiously, hoping that somehow, his bottle will grow twenty times over and hide him from the rest of the room. “You don’t have to tell me all this,” Jungkook mumbles.
“Nah, I know. You guys are cute together. Try and take care of him,” Hoseok says, a note of seriousness in his voice that has Jungkook sobering slightly. “He forgets to do it for himself sometimes.”
“I will, hyung,” Jungkook nods, trying to smile through the heaviness settling in his chest. It isn’t unpleasant, it’s more a realisation, of - okay, this is what we’re doing now. This is what we’re holding close to us, and taking seriously, making a priority.
Seokjin returns, content with his music choice, fresh beer in hand. “What are we talking about? You guys look intense,” he says excitedly, pressing up close to Jungkook’s other side. Jungkook laughs awkwardly.
“I was being very mean and accosting poor Jungkookie about Yoongi-hyung,” Hoseok coos, ruffling Jungkook’s hair until the boy squawks.
Seokjin swallows thickly, something close to discomfort flashing over his face, and Jungkook panics. He’s suddenly terrified that Seokjin is going to say something to him now, when Yoongi isn’t here, when he’s alone, and he isn’t sure he can navigate that by himself just yet. But the moment passes, and Seokjin’s face relaxes into his handsome, easy smile.
“Are you guys officially dating yet? It kinda seems like you are,” Seokjin asks curiously, in that way that all of them seem to, so casual about the things that make Jungkook’s cheeks burn.
“No, we’re not,” he replies, shrugging. “I haven’t thought about it, to be honest.”
“Why not?” Hoseok is looking at him closely now, swigging from his bottle.
“I - well, I don’t think it’ll really change anything,” Jungkook says thoughtfully, trying to choose his words carefully. “The people that we care about, you guys, you know our deal and we know our deal. That’s enough for me.”
Seokjin is nodding, smiling, looking rather pleased with Jungkook’s answer. Hoseok, on the other hand, looks positively teary-eyed.
“Jungkookie, that’s so sweet!” Hoseok gasps, bracing one hand on Jungkook’s knee. “I’m gonna cry. ”
“Try not to,” Seokjin interjects drily. He fixes Jungkook with a much kinder gaze. “I’m glad to hear you say that, Jungkook-ah. I can see you guys really care about each other. It’s kind of strange for us, that’s all.”
“Strange?” Jungkook asks, biting at the top of his bottle again.
“That’s right,” Hoseok nods, seemingly having gotten over his fit of sentimentality. “We never saw Yoongi-hyung date, not ever. He never seemed to want to.”
“It’s nice to see him so happy,” Seokjin smiles, looking over at Yoongi, who catches their gaze and, ironically, scowls.
“What?” he calls grumpily. “Why is everyone looking at me?”
Jungkook just laughs, hopping down off the counter. “I’ll go rescue him,” he grins. Seokjin pats his back warmly as he passes, heading towards Yoongi.
“Was your privacy just invaded? Because mine was,” Yoongi grumbles, scowl still securely in place.
Jungkook just laughs, winding his arms around Yoongi’s neck. He sees Yoongi’s expression lighten, just a little. “Yes, absolutely. I think they must have planned it,” Jungkook replies. He’s too happy to be mad at their friends, honestly, and it might be the alcohol, but he just takes advantage of the moment, being so close to Yoongi, to look at him, his pretty, deep brown eyes, his jawline, the downturn of his pink lips.
Yoongi finally looks over at him, his frown disappearing altogether now, his gaze dropping to Jungkook’s lips. He smiles, one arm slipping around Jungkook’s waist. “Are you having fun?”
“Yeah, hyung. Are you?”
“I am now you’re here,” Yoongi grins cheesily, laying it on just a little thick. Jungkook snorts and hides his face against Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Oh my god,” he groans. He can feel Yoongi shaking with laughter, those long fingers gently tickling at his waist. He resurfaces, ready to scold Yoongi, but - Yoongi’s face is so close, his smile so warm, his eyes so fond. Jungkook leans forward, gently kissing him, tightening his arms around Yoongi. Yoongi makes a small sound of contentment against Jungkook’s lips, his free hand reaching up to thumb along Jungkook’s jaw, his fingers toying with the hoops in Jungkook’s ears. Jungkook sinks into the moment, full-bodied, settling his weight into Yoongi’s hold, because he can. Because he trusts Yoongi, absolutely.
“Okay, let’s - enough of that please.” Seokjin’s voice interrupts and Jungkook makes a great effort to pull himself back up from where he was so blissfully sinking. Yoongi pulls back gently, keeping his hands on Jungkook, like he knew exactly what Jungkook was feeling and didn’t want to pull him out of it too sharply. Seokjin’s face is set like stone as he walks toward the sofas. “I wanted to talk to everybody. Together, please.”
Jungkook feels a flare of hot panic, his eyes darting to Yoongi. Yoongi looks afraid, too, but the smile he gives Jungkook is warm, comforting - it says, I’m here. It’s okay. I’ve got you.
Seokjin drops into one of the armchairs, and Namjoon drops into the other. Jungkook is only distantly aware of Yoongi pulling him over to the sofa with a gentle hand, of Yoongi sitting in the far corner of the sofa, of Yoongi tugging him down to sit between his legs. He feels the warmth of Yoongi’s chest against his back, though, he feels that clearly, and the arms that wind around his waist, so grounding, something protective in his touch.
Hoseok drops onto the sofa beside them, trying to look unaffected. Taehyung and Jimin sink to the floor, curled tight into tense, little balls, arms around their knees, their flickering eyes large and cautious.
It’s all a bit official, Jungkook thinks. Hoseok said that Seokjin was planning an intervention, and it feels like one. He feels like he’s in trouble, like he’s done something wrong. Only Yoongi’s fingers, soothing gently over his stomach, keep him from toppling over the edge altogether.
“So,” Seokjin begins, all eyes on him. Seriousness suits him, Jungkook thinks vaguely. He looks handsome like this, his eyebrows lowered. “So, I wanted to talk to everybody. Together. Because - it comes from a place of concern.”
Jungkook tries his best to control his breathing, but his heart is racing, his lungs straining under the weight of his nerves.
“And we’re all friends, let’s make that clear. We’re all friends,” Namjoon speaks up, fixing everyone with a very sincere look.
“Yes, of course -” Seokjin says quickly. “We’re all friends, and we need to interject when someone is doing something that could be damaging. You’d do it for me, wouldn’t you?” he asks, leaning forward, elbows on his knees.
“Sure, hyung,” Hoseok answers, nodding.
“Okay. So, Hoseok is aware of this already, but - we don’t need to get into the details of how, but I found a website that had - there were - revealing videos of -” Seokjin shakes his head, his ears turning pink. “This is difficult.”
“He found Jungkook’s camshow,” Namjoon finishes drily. “He was looking for porn and stumbled across it. He watched some of it, he says.”
“Of course some of it, Namjoon, you think I’d stick around?” Seokjin snaps, his words running together.
“Okay, hyung,” Yoongi interrupts. “What’s the problem?”
“What - what’s the problem? ” Seokjin near-screeches, and everybody flinches. “We have to intervene. He’s ruining his life. Things on the internet don’t just go away, they’ll stay there forever. Anybody could find it! Employers! Family!”
Something unpleasant and foul is settling into Jungkook’s stomach, and he feels silly, naive, stupid, like he’s being lectured by a teacher.
“That’s enough, hyung,” Hoseok says calmly, reaching out a cautious hand and resting it on Seokjin’s shoulder. “It isn’t all bad.”
Seokjin, to his credit, does take a moment to breathe, in through his nose, out through his mouth. Then, he looks up, his gaze suddenly hard, straight over Jungkook’s shoulder.
“I’m really surprised at you, Yoongi. Hoseok told me that you knew and you - you did nothing to stop him?”
“That’s right,” Yoongi replies, nodding. Jungkook glances back and sees a line of determination in Yoongi’s jaw. “Partially, because it’s none of my business what he chooses to do with his body. But also, because that’s how we met. I have a camshow, too.”
The tension in the room seems to tighten, like an enormous fist is squeezing the air from the room.
“What? You too? Has the world gone completely insane?” Seokjin exclaims, his voice grating against the bubbly pop music still playing underneath it all. “Am I the only person with any sense?”
“The thing is,” Hoseok begins carefully, his hand still massaging Seokjin’s shoulder. “The rest of us don’t care. We just don’t. If they’re choosing to do this, and they’re safe, then who cares?”
“Wait - everybody else knew?” Seokjin looks around incredulously. Taehyung and Jimin nod reluctantly, but Namjoon shakes his head very fast, as though afraid to get scolded, too.
The tightness in the air is getting to Jungkook. He doesn’t like that the dynamic is changing, he hates the uneasiness on everybody’s faces. He wants to try and help, if he can - he doesn’t want Yoongi to fight his battles. They should fight their battles together. Jungkook takes a deep, steadying breath.
“I’m sorry, Seokjin-hyung,” Jungkook says, his voice tiny. All eyes turn to him. “Really. We didn’t mean to keep anything from you. I - I really appreciate your concern, I really do, but we are safe. We wear masks, and nobody knows our real names. We get paid, but - it’s also kind of fun. For me, at least.”
Nobody seems to know what to say to that. Seokjin still looks uncomfortable, but he doesn’t appear to be about to shout anymore, which is definitely a plus. Yoongi’s arms have tightened slightly around Jungkook, as though Yoongi can sense the strength that it took for Jungkook to speak up.
“It’s just - it’s odd to me that you seem to encourage it, Hobi,” Seokjin says helplessly. He turns to Hoseok as though desperately seeking answers.
Hoseok shrugs, leaning back in his seat. “Why not? They have fun, and it helps hyung to pay his bills, pay tuition, pay for all his equipment. I won’t complain.”
“There are other ways to make money, though!” Seokjin replies.
“Yeah, but they like it. And it’s how they met. How can that be a bad thing?”
“It - well, of course it isn’t bad that they met, I’m happy for them, but -”
“I’ve bought toys for Yoongi before, for fuck’s sake,” Hoseok lets out a laugh which eases some of the tension in the room. Jungkook already feels like he can breathe more easily. “It was a joke, at the time, but I’m sure he got some good use out of it.”
Jungkook feels Yoongi shake with laughter. “I did.”
Jimin and Taehyung laugh at that, too, and even Namjoon has to hide his smirk behind his hand. Jungkook smiles weakly down at his roommates, for once, thankful for them.
“It’s okay, hyung. You don’t have to agree with it, but we’d appreciate it if you can try to accept it,” Yoongi says, a definite air of finality to his voice. He wants this put to bed as soon as possible, Jungkook knows, wants them to continue with their happy evening before things go too far. “If you have any questions, though, we’re happy to answer them.”
Jungkook nods quickly, eager to help out Yoongi however he can. There’s another silence, still uneasy, filled with anxious glances towards Seokjin, who appears to be having a deep, internal debate, but Jungkook feels a bit better. At least everything is out in the open, now.
“So,” Jimin speaks up, dropping his knees and leaning closer to Jungkook, his brow furrowed. There is a clear note of curiosity in his voice, one that sets Jungkook on edge. “Would you say it makes a lot of money? How much are we talking?”
“God, hyung, no, ” Jungkook groans. He feels, once more, Yoongi’s body shaking with laughter behind him.
“It could be a fun bonding activity for us!” Jimin insists, turning to Taehyung who simply nods, as though he agrees that Jungkook is being totally unreasonable. Hoseok, of course, simply looks on, thoroughly entertained.
The mental image is almost too much for Jungkook. He shudders, full-bodied. “Just. No.”
“Yoongi,” Seokjin says, all eyes flickering back to him. He looks very uncomfortable. “I saw your boyfriend naked. Doesn’t that bother you? At all?”
“There’s thousands of people that have seen us both naked,” Yoongi says, shrugging. Jungkook can’t help but chuckle - he’d never thought of it that way. He wonders, idly, just how many people he’s walked past on the street that were wondering just where they knew that face from. “No, it doesn’t bother me.”
Seokjin looks more and more defeated with every passing minute, his broad shoulders slumping. “But I’ve seen him naked! I’m your friend!”
“It’s fine, we see him naked all the time!” Taehyung waves his hand, laughing. A deathly silence follows his words.
After what could be an eternity, Jungkook fixes his roommates with an icy stare. “...What?”
“Why ‘all the time’?” Yoongi asks. He doesn’t sound angry, rather - bewildered.
Taehyung raises a finger, fondly shushing Jungkook, who sees absolutely no reason not to launch himself at his hyung and choke him with his own shoelaces.
“You wouldn’t remember. You were asleep,” Jimin answers comfortingly.
“Had you been awake, you would have seen us naked, too, so you only have yourself to blame.”
“I hate everything about this,” Jungkook says miserably to the room at large. Hoseok has collapsed with silent laughter, and even Seokjin is smiling, though there’s still some tightness in his expression.
“Seeing your friends naked isn’t that weird,” Yoongi shrugs, trying valiantly to get the conversation back on track as he addresses Seokjin. Jungkook shifts so his back is against the back of the sofa, giving him a better view of Yoongi, who shoots him an embarrassed smirk.
“It’s kind of weird,” Namjoon frowns.
“Even if you live together?” Hoseok asks incredulously, having recovered from his fit of laughing. “I see Yoongi’s ass all the time.”
“You’re telling us that you never saw each other naked?”
“No, we have n-”
“Once,” Seokjin admits, his voice small and slightly traumatised.
This news doesn’t inspire silence, instead prompting a fresh wave of howling from Hoseok, a sudden barrage of questions from Jimin and Taehyung, and wicked laughter from Yoongi. The sound makes Jungkook laugh, too, some of the gnawing anxiety finally lifting from his chest at the sight of Yoongi’s open smile, his happy, crescent eyes.
“You - WHEN WAS THAT?” Namjoon bellows, easily drowning out the clamour of the others.
Seokjin shakes his head rapidly, his face turning a blotchy red that spreads down his throat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
The conversation is kind of derailed at that point, everyone hounding Seokjin to hear what happened. Jungkook could care less, quite frankly, and he could definitely do without the visual of Namjoon naked. He turns back to Yoongi, who smiles at him, cautious but warm and doting.
“You okay?” Yoongi murmurs, so quietly that the others won’t hear.
Jungkook nods, allowing the timid seed of relief that had been sprouting in his chest to spread throughout his whole body. He relaxes back into the sofa, lifting up one clumsy hand to stroke along Yoongi’s jawline. “Yeah,” he grins. “Thank god that’s over.”
He feels slightly less inebriated than he had before, the seriousness of everything sobering him up. He could use another drink. He fucking deserves it, after all of that.
“I don’t think hyung is totally convinced,” Yoongi says lowly, his eyes flickering behind Jungkook, presumably to Seokjin. “But I think he understands better than he did before. And most importantly, we’re okay.”
Yoongi nudges Jungkook with his knee, one hand reaching up to steal away Jungkook’s fingers from his cheek. He presses a long kiss to Jungkook’s knuckles, his eyes sparkling. Jungkook’s heart seems to swell until it strains dangerously against his ribs.
“We’re okay,” he repeats, nodding. He can’t keep the smile off his face, can’t stop gazing at Yoongi. He feels totally overcome with the strongest urge he’s ever felt to just lean forward and kiss Yoongi, kiss him until his soft smile is swollen and pink.
The rest of Jungkook’s very enticing train of thought is very quickly dispelled, however, by Taehyung leaping to his feet, gasping deafeningly loudly and gazing around at everybody, as though they’re expected to read his mind.
After a long pause, it’s Jimin that speaks up. “Well fuck, what?”
“Body shots,” Taehyung says, like it’s the simplest answer to the question that nobody was asking. “Why aren’t we doing body shots?”
There’s a dull smacking sound as Namjoon drops his head into his hands. “Taehyung, for fuck’s sake.”
Unfortunately, everyone has had too many drinks to come up with a logical reason why they shouldn’t do body shots, so, naturally - they’re doing body shots. Seokjin passes out a couple more shots of soju for everybody, declaring, angrily, that he’d rather be drunk enough to not remember what’s about to happen or, reasonably, everything that just transpired.
Taehyung and Jimin go first, of course, and Jungkook is torn between feeling deep shame and anguish at the behaviour of his roommates, and feeling a primal calling to record the whole thing on his phone and send it to everybody he knows.
They clear a space on the kitchen counter, moving things aside carefully under the watchful eye of Seokjin. Taehyung and Jimin play rock, paper, scissors to decide who will go first, and it’s Jimin who hops up onto the counter, wiggling until he’s comfortable.
“Good lord,” Yoongi mumbles, arms folded. Jungkook, who is hanging over Yoongi’s shoulders from behind, can’t help but laugh at the sight.
“I hope your skin doesn’t taste weird,” Taehyung muses, wrinkling his nose. “It doesn’t usually.”
“Nobody ask how he knows that,” Namjoon says flatly, whilst Hoseok collapses with laughter.
Jimin tugs his shirt up, giggling like a schoolgirl. Hoseok sprinkles some salt onto Jimin’s chest, Seokjin passes Jimin a lime wedge which he places delicately between his teeth, and Namjoon finds himself holding the tequila bottle, looking entirely uncomfortable with the hand he has been dealt in life. He passes it, without looking, to Yoongi, who contemplates for a moment, before taking it with a shrug.
“Ready?” he asks, smirking. Eerily synchronised, Taehyung and Jimin give a thumbs up, and Yoongi upturns the bottle onto Jimin’s torso, letting a couple of glugs drip over Jimin’s stomach and pool in his navel.
“Oh my god,” Jungkook gasps, appalled, unable to look away. Taehyung licks up the salt in one fell swoop, then slurps up the tequila that has collected in Jimin’s belly button and chases the drips that have fallen down Jimin’s waist and hips.
He grimaces at the taste slightly - Jungkook knows he’s never been one for straight liquor - then straightens up, moving to Jimin’s head.
“Hello,” Taehyung says, as though introducing himself.
“He-oh,” Jimin replies through a mouthful of lime. Taehyung leans down and bites the lime, pulling it out of Jimin’s mouth. Someone starts clapping, and Jungkook joins in half-heartedly - they did a pretty good job, he thinks. It’s hard to grade a body shot.
“Oh god, sour,” Taehyung says, smacking his lips together after sucking the juice from the wedge. “Okay, who’s next?”
“Obviously those two.” Jimin sits up, pulling down his shirt and nodding in Jungkook and Yoongi’s general direction. Jungkook straightens up, releasing Yoongi guiltily.
“I - that’s -” he stutters, gazing around for help.
“I’m down,” Yoongi shrugs, turning back to Jungkook with something dangerous flickering behind his eyes and a wicked smirk curling his lips. “If you are.”
Jungkook thinks he must black out for the next minute or two, remembering only that he nodded, numbly, accepting his fate. Next thing he is aware of, Yoongi is holding his hand, helping him to jump up onto the kitchen counter and lie down.
He’s nervous, of course - yes, he’d said he wanted everyone to see that he belonged to Yoongi, but this is taking it a bit far. This is a level of exhibitionism that he, a fucking camboy, finds to be a little bit much. There is a small part of him, however, that thrills with excitement that Yoongi’s full lips, his tongue is going to be on his body shortly, so he stays quiet.
“This is going to be excellent,” Jimin grins, snickering, getting a good seat for the show.
“This is turning into a house of sin.” Seokjin’s hopeless voice comes from somewhere by Jungkook’s feet.
“You okay?” Yoongi asks, standing close by Jungkook’s side. He looks kind of excited, but cautious, too, one hand finding Jungkook’s and squeezing.
“Shy,” Jungkook replies, smiling, just for Yoongi’s eyes. “But yeah.”
Yoongi smiles back, and Jungkook watches him take a deep breath, as though readying himself. He tugs Jungkook’s shirt out from beneath his belt and pulls it up, up to Jungkook’s throat. When he pulls back, he catches Jungkook’s eye, just for a moment, and winks. Jungkook thinks his blush must spread down to the bare skin of his stomach.
“Well, there’s no way I’m taking my shirt off after that,” Namjoon mumbles, gesturing to Jungkook’s body. “Are you kidding me?”
“Oh yeah, it’s awful living with him,” Taehyung nods sagely. “He’s hot.”
“Oh my god, stop,” Jungkook groans, scrunching up his face.
Jimin snatches the salt and wickedly, deliberately, sprinkles a generous amount directly over Jungkook’s nipple. Even the slight sensation of the salt dropping onto his skin has him flinching. He’s in for a difficult ride, that’s for sure.
“What?!” Jimin exclaims innocently. Jungkook glances over to see Yoongi fixing Jimin with a look of deepest loathing.
Yoongi holds out the lime wedge, gently bumping it against Jungkook’s lips. “Open up, babe.”
Jungkook complies, taking the lime and holding it between his teeth. He can taste how sour it is already, the juice pricking against his tongue. He tries not to pull a face.
It’s Taehyung who holds the tequila bottle, much to Jungkook’s chagrin. Yoongi looks suspicious, too, moving closer to Jungkook protectively.
Taehyung pretends to wipe away a tear. “I feel like this is your wedding and I’m the - what is it called? The conductor.”
“That’s definitely not it,” Hoseok snorts.
Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Uh, yeah, I’m pretty sure it is, hyung.” He exchanges a look with Jimin that quite clearly says, these people are idiots.
“Hurry up,” Yoongi snaps. “Jungkookie might get cold.”
Jimin pretends to vomit behind the counter at his words, but Taehyung simply shrugs, turning the bottle over Jungkook’s body.
It’s fucking cold, is the first thing Jungkook notices, followed by an instinctive panic as the liquid quickly spreads over his torso. It dips down towards his jeans, drips down the sides of his waist, making him squirm.
Yoongi gives Jungkook a look that is equal parts apologetic and wicked, before he ducks his head, lathing his tongue ever so gently against the salt on Jungkook’s nipple. Jungkook has to scrunch his eyes shut and he seems to fall completely deaf.
Jungkook isn’t sure what he’d prefer - if Yoongi went quickly, the salt scratching over his sensitive flesh, to get it over with, or this, the slow, soft, wet sensation of Yoongi’s tongue, lapping up the salt, flicking the hardening bud of his nipple again and again. It’s torturous, and Jungkook sends a brief prayer to gods he hasn’t even heard of that he won’t, won’t get hard.
Yoongi relents in his attack on Jungkook’s nipple and moves down slightly, his tongue now sliding over Jungkook’s chest and stomach. It’s a strange feeling, the cold of the alcohol being replaced by the heat of Yoongi’s tongue. Jungkook expected to feel drier, but he doesn’t, just feels the wet of Yoongi’s mouth spreading gradually down.
Surely, surely Yoongi is moving so slowly on purpose. Surely he’s intentionally tracing the outlines of Jungkook’s stomach muscles with his tongue, because it can’t be a coincidence. His hand reaches up to take hold of Jungkook’s waist as though keeping him in place as his tongue moves further south, and Jungkook distantly realises that he’s been squirming again.
The lower Yoongi’s tongue moves, the harder Jungkook has to focus on willing the blood away from his crotch. It’s just far too reminiscent of - of other moments, but of course, those moments took place when they didn’t have an audience of their closest friends, when they were alone, in bed, welcome to give in to each other. Right now - well, Jungkook can only hope they’ll have time to themselves later.
Yoongi resurfaces into Jungkook’s field of vision, and Jungkook isn’t sure if he’s pleased or not that Yoongi looks just as flustered as he feels, if not more so. There’s a pretty petal-pink flush high on his cheekbones and his lips are swollen and glossy from the salt and tequila. Jungkook can see, even from here, even from this angle, that Yoongi’s pupils are blown. He imagines he must be in a similar state.
Yoongi leans close to him and just fills his senses, becomes the only thing he is aware of anymore. He’s smirking, Jungkook notices, and those dark eyes gaze purposefully into his own as Yoongi dips his head. Jungkook can feel Yoongi’s lips against his own. His breathing catches in his chest. All he knows is that he’s almost shirtless, Yoongi’s hands are on his bare skin, and Yoongi is close enough to kiss him. He forgets everything else.
Then, Yoongi bites into the lime before pulling back, and the sourness explodes on his tongue. As though someone turned up the volume in the room, Jungkook hears his friends clapping and whooping, and Yoongi pulls back, still working on his lime wedge, looking extremely pleased with himself.
Jungkook sits up at once, hastily pushing his shirt back into his jeans.
“I’m going to go and check the windows haven’t steamed up,” Seokjin says distractedly, heading over to the far wall. “From this heinous display.”
“Okay, I totally get it,” Hoseok nods, looking quite impressed. “I can see why people want to watch you guys fuck.”
Jungkook just kind of splutters, made even worse by Jimin and Taehyung nodding along. “We got a private show,” Jimin mumbles. “Should we, like, pay you?”
“Alright, that’s enough,” Yoongi says, holding out a hand to help Jungkook down from the counter. Jungkook takes it, but immediately drops it once he’s on solid ground again. The last thing he needs is more skin contact with Yoongi.
He immediately pours himself another drink, a strong one, and takes a long, purposeful gulp. It’s true that he sobered up after the conversation with Seokjin, but everything that just happened has him feeling a totally different type of drunk. His head just swims with Yoongi, so much so that he feels kind of shy. So he hides in the corner of the kitchenette, facing the wall, pretending to do something on his phone and nursing his drink, until the sounds of life drift to the other side of the room.
“Hey.” Jungkook turns his head at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, seeing his hyung leaning against the counter. He looks concerned. “Is everything okay?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath and tries to smile. “Honestly, yeah, I’m fine. Just overwhelmed, again,” he says truthfully. “I feel a little shy. There’s been a lot of - of focus on us, tonight.”
Yoongi nods thoughtfully. “There has,” he says. “I think everyone is just excited for us. That we’re - y’know. But I understand. I can take you home, if you like.”
Quickly, Jungkook shakes his head. “No, hyung, please. I’m fine. Just, like - give me a second?”
“Of course,” Yoongi smiles. He leans over, pressing a kiss to the corner of Jungkook’s mouth, then returns to their friends. Honestly, Jungkook hadn’t really meant that he needed time alone - he wouldn’t have minded if Yoongi had stayed with him, but this works too.
He finishes his drink and takes his time pouring another, then sets about pouring out some shots for everyone, mostly for something to do. When he finally reenters the party, it’s to a chorus of welcome, to eager hands grabbing for shot glasses, and to Yoongi’s waiting arms. Jungkook takes his shot with everybody and takes his place between Yoongi’s legs again, perhaps a little heavier than necessary, but Yoongi just beams at him.
From that point, things start to run together for Jungkook. He isn’t wasted, far from it, but his laughs come more easily, his voice becomes more confident, he feels lighter. He has an incredibly intense conversation about a specific dream that Hoseok had involving receiving a take-out pizza topped with teeth, and what it could possibly mean. He laughs way too long at the way Seokjin scolds Namjoon after he accidentally snaps a stem of Seokjin’s aloe vera plant with a particularly experimental dance move.
Jungkook doesn’t even complain when Jimin switches to his dance playlist, mostly songs he learned to warm up, though there are a few songs in there that Jungkook remembers learning with Jimin and Taehyung on particularly restive nights in their apartment. He’s having fun, his blood too syrupy thick with alcohol to connect the dots.
Then, Jimin plays ‘Roll Deep’ by Hyuna, and - well. Jungkook’s drunk. What is he supposed to do?
Taehyung howls, immediately crossing the room and grabbing Jungkook, dragging him to his feet. Jungkook is just going along with it, honestly, not really sure about what’s happening. Jimin herds him into position, barking instructions at him that only half-register in his bleary mind, Taehyung at his side, taking this much more seriously than him.
Jungkook can’t help but laugh. It’s a silly dance for three grown men to be doing in someone’s living room. Hyuna looks great doing it, of course, and - Jimin, even as drunk as he is, he’s making a valiant attempt. But Jungkook, he can’t stop cracking up - especially when they have to drop down to their hands and knees, and they have to do that a lot.
He isn’t sure if it was intentional, but they’re kind of performing for an audience at this point. Hoseok stands in front of them, copying the moves he knows, collapsing with waves of cringe at the sight of certain dance moves. Namjoon and Seokjin clap along good-naturedly, ‘wow’-ing at all the right moments. Jungkook’s eyes rest on Yoongi, and Yoongi - Yoongi looks troubled.
It takes Jungkook a moment to register what he sees, his mind still processing the next dance moves obediently. Yoongi is sitting with his elbows on his knees, his face is lax, his lips parted slightly. His gaze is unreadable, but seems to be fixed on Jungkook’s body, not his face. His eyebrows are drawn together in - focus? Concern?
The dance wraps up, mostly without Jungkook, who falls to his hands and knees for the last time and can’t seem to make it back up, collapsing with laughter and rolling onto his back. He has to catch his breath - he’d forgotten how taxing some of these girl group dances can be - made all the worse by the laughter that won’t seem to stop, and by Taehyung, falling heavily onto his stomach.
Some minutes later, another song is playing and the attention of the room is diverted elsewhere, and Jungkook is still lying on the floor. It’s nice and cold, he reasons, cooling his skin through his clothes. It’s also kind of comfortable. He could stay here.
Yoongi’s face floats into his view as his hyung leans over him, still looking slightly pained.
“Hi,” Jungkook grins.
“Hello,” Yoongi replies tightly. “Come on.”
Yoongi reaches out for Jungkook’s hand and helps him to his feet. “Thanks, hyung,” Jungkook says. Yoongi’s expression doesn’t soften, and Jungkook feels a pinch of worry in his stomach. “Come and get some water with me?”
Yoongi follows him over to the kitchen, where Jungkook fills up a clean cup from the sink. Yoongi is quiet at his side, that little crease still set firmly between his eyebrows. Jungkook takes a hesitant sip of water. Did he overdo it with Jimin? He was only dancing, just having some fun, but - maybe he was being too much. God, he hopes Yoongi isn’t embarrassed by his behaviour.
“Hyung, I’m sorry,” Jungkook says softly. Yoongi’s head snaps up to look at him. “I was just fooling around. I won’t do it again.”
“What?” Yoongi says, shaking his head confusedly. “Do what again?”
“The - the dancing,” Jungkook mumbles. “Was I embarrassing?”
“What? ” Yoongi says again, taking a step towards Jungkook and resting a hand on his chest. “Oh my god, is that what you thought?”
“Well - yeah, you look really mad.”
“Jungkook,” Yoongi begins. His expression finally softens, just slightly, a slight smile curving his lips. “I have never wanted to drag you into the nearest bed and make you come until you cry, more than I want to right now. Holy shit.”
Jungkook doesn’t know what to say to that. “Wh- sorry?”
“That fucking dance,” Yoongi laughs, pushing his hair back from his face. “You’re killing me. You’re literally the sexiest person in the whole fucking world. I want to fuck you so bad. You thought I was pissed at you, jesus, Jungkook. I was trying not to get hard in front of our friends.”
Jungkook gulps, his cheeks colouring. He thought Yoongi was mad, but - “You - you were turned on?”
“I am turned on,” Yoongi corrects him, his smile turning sheepish. “I’m - absolutely dying. It’s all your fault.”
“Then -” Jungkook starts, needing to pause to take another drink, his mouth suddenly very dry. “Then let’s go.”
Yoongi laughs again, his hand dancing up over Jungkook’s chest to his neck. “Alright, alright.”
“I’m not kidding,” Jungkook says. His heart is pounding in his chest. He’s having fun with their friends, he really is, but hearing Yoongi’s words has all kinds of things bubbling low in his stomach, things that he pushed down after the body shot but are resurfacing now. Maybe it’s the alcohol, but he feels a spike of bravery. “Let’s go. Show me how hard I made you.”
Yoongi freezes, a dangerous look in his eyes that makes Jungkook tremble. “Jesus,” he whispers. He swallows thickly, then speaks again, his voice low and liquid velvet. “Okay. Let’s get out of here.”
Jungkook downs the rest of his water and washes his cup, chewing on his lower lip as Yoongi heads back to their friends.
“Hyung, what was the name of that -” Hoseok begins, but Yoongi talks over him.
“Don’t know,” he says loudly. “Seokjin-hyung, thank you for having us, but we’re leaving now.”
“Oh? Okay,” Seokjin says, looking over at Jungkook, who flushes and drops his gaze. “Get home safely! Let’s do this again sometime.”
“I’ll just -” Hoseok seems to pick up on the energy between Yoongi and Jungkook, and wrinkles his nose. “I’ll crash at Jimin and Taehyung’s place. You guys have fun.”
“Hobi, don’t be gross,” Namjoon chides, but his face pales with horror when he sees Yoongi nodding.
“That’s a great idea. Bye, guys,” he says flatly, grabbing Jungkook’s shirt and hoodie from the armchair before turning on his heel and striding purposefully towards the door. He reaches out his hand to Jungkook as he walks by, and Jungkook hurries to keep up with him.
“Bye, hyungs,” Jungkook calls, cringing as his voice comes out unnaturally breathy and high.
They barely make it into the elevator before Yoongi crowds Jungkook up against the wall, infuriatingly choosing not to kiss him, instead trapping Jungkook with a thigh between his legs and one hand loosely wrapped around his throat. Jungkook’s head hits the wall and his mind starts to fog.
“We can’t get in the habit of this,” Yoongi murmurs, lips so tantalisingly close to Jungkook’s. “Leaving plans early to go home and fuck. We’ll get a reputation.”
Jungkook rolls his hips against Yoongi’s, letting out a moan at the relief it brings to the ache building between his legs. “I know, I’m sorry,” he gasps, eyes squeezing closed when Yoongi’s fingers tighten ever so slightly. “We - we stayed a while. It’s past midnight.”
“You’d better stay quiet, then,” Yoongi breathes. “Don’t want to go waking up the neighbours. Think you can stay quiet tonight?”
Jungkook shakes his head helplessly. “I can’t,” he bleats. “I can’t help it.”
Yoongi smirks, the sight sending a throb to Jungkook’s rapidly hardening cock inside his jeans. The elevator reaches the ground floor, and Yoongi yanks Jungkook by his hand, guiding him out into the cold, quiet night air.
Jungkook has to keep a tight hold on Yoongi’s arm, feeling a little light-headed from the drinks and from the lingering feeling of Yoongi’s hand on his throat, something he hadn’t even thought about before but - now, he doesn’t know if he’ll ever stop thinking about it. He thinks, idly, that Yoongi could probably do anything to him with those perfect hands, and Jungkook would be more than happy to take it.
Yoongi guides him into the back of a taxi, sliding in beside him. Jungkook tries to tug Yoongi closer, hating the distance between them, but Yoongi shoots him a look and he stops. The ten minutes in the taxi must be the longest ten minutes of Jungkook’s life. He just gazes at Yoongi, watching his features flash in the passing streetlights, wanting so desperately to have those hands on him once more. He knows he’s being a little bit desperate, however, knows he gets that way after a few drinks, so he tries to be patient.
The taxi pulls up outside Yoongi’s building and Jungkook just follows Yoongi obediently, clinging to his hyung’s fingers like a lifeline. He can feel himself slipping already, slipping hard. He doesn’t yet know what it means, not really, but he knows that it only happens with Yoongi, and he always feels safe. He feels foggy, though, feels like he has to hold back just a little, at least until they’re behind closed doors.
Yoongi doesn’t do anything more than hold onto his hand and drop his jacket onto the back of a chair until they’re in his bedroom, but the second his door swings shut, Yoongi pushes Jungkook up against the back of it with a force that knocks the wind from Jungkook’s lungs.
“What do you want?” Yoongi asks quietly, his hand taking hold of Jungkook’s chin and forcing him to look into his eyes.
Jungkook has to catch his breath before he replies. “I - kiss me, please,” he gasps.
At once, Yoongi crashes their lips together in a bruising kiss, his tongue teasing at the seam of Jungkook’s lips with no hesitation. Jungkook falls into it, lets Yoongi swallow the whimpers and moans tumbling from his mouth. Yoongi’s hands on his body could be the only things tethering him to this world. When Yoongi lets out a groan against his lips, he can feel the vibration of it through his chest, all the way down to their hips, pressed so tightly together that there’s no room even for Jungkook to rub up against Yoongi for some relief.
“Hyung,” he gasps, breaking the kiss with a wet sound. His lips feel numb from their kiss, and finds himself wanting Yoongi to abuse his lips again, and again, until they’re swollen and slick and aching. He wants - he wants -
Jungkook gently pushes at Yoongi’s chest and Yoongi releases him at once, taking a step back. He looks concerned, worried, like he’s about to speak, but Jungkook simply takes his shoulders and guides him backwards until Yoongi sits down heavily on the edge of the bed. “Baby?” he asks, confused.
Jungkook doesn’t reply. He sinks to his knees in front of Yoongi, gazing up at his hyung to make sure that - that it’s okay, that Yoongi’s okay, too. His fingers shyly find their way to the fastening of Yoongi’s jeans, and Yoongi just - gulps.
“Please,” Jungkook breathes. “Please can I?”
Yoongi looks down at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Jungkook settles more comfortably on his knees, folding his feet beneath him. He likes this, being on his knees, he realises. He feels small, in a good way. He feels like he’s in Yoongi’s hands. It doesn’t hurt that Yoongi looks - so good from this angle, the sharp line of his jaw thrown into contrast by the shadows and the light overhead.
Yoongi swallows thickly again, then he reaches out one hand and pushes Jungkook’s hair back from his face. His hand drops down to Jungkook’s mouth, his thumb swiping across Jungkook’s lips and dipping inside to press over his tongue.
“This is what you want?” Yoongi murmurs. They make eye contact, and Jungkook finds himself unable to look away. “You want to be on your knees for hyung?”
Jungkook’s fingers tug Yoongi’s jeans down his thighs, just a little. “Show me,” he insists, his voice small, his gaze on the unmistakable swell in Yoongi’s underwear.
Yoongi bites down on his lower lip and leans back on one hand, his other hand easing beneath his boxers and pulling out his cock, hard and beaded with precum. Jungkook just stares, his mouth watering. Yoongi looks so hard, his skin pulled taut and flushed a dark, aching pink. Yoongi watches Jungkook’s face closely, his hand lazily stroking his length. “What are you thinking about?” Yoongi asks suddenly.
Jungkook doesn’t know how to answer that, not right away. He’s so caught up in watching Yoongi, the slow movement of his hand, the way his chest heaves with his breaths. Yoongi is just a vision, he really is.
“Nothing,” Jungkook says, without thinking. “I mean - how can I? Look at you.”
Yoongi grins, teeth still pressed into his lower lip. “Do - do you want to watch me?”
Jungkook’s stomach plunges into his pelvis at the thought of that - he’s watched Yoongi’s shows before, sure, but watching Yoongi come right before his eyes, getting to hear every delicious moan, everything just for him, it’s a tempting idea. But Jungkook still wants, he wants to make Yoongi come, wants to make it happen, not just watch it.
“Right now,” Jungkook says slowly, still planning his next words. He has to really focus on speaking, pulling his consciousness down from wherever it keeps swimming to. “I want this.”
He gently eases Yoongi’s jeans and boxers further down and off his legs, then spreads his hyung’s knees further apart. He knocks Yoongi’s hand aside and shifts closer, closer, until the head of Yoongi’s cock presses so softly against his lips.
“God, Jungkook,” Yoongi groans quietly. He leans back on both of his hands now, just watching. There’s something molten in his gaze that brings back that boldness that Jungkook felt earlier. “So pretty.”
Jungkook eases the tip of Yoongi’s cock between his lips, his tongue softly laving over the hot, hard skin. Yoongi’s head drops back in relief, a moan escaping him. Jungkook stares, at the column of Yoongi’s throat and at his broad shoulders and pretty, pearlescent skin, not enough of it on show.
Jungkook pulls off and moves his focus to the base of Yoongi’s cock, flattening his tongue against the underside and dragging it slowly upwards. Yoongi hisses under his breath. He looks down at Jungkook once more, panting slightly through swollen lips. One hand comes up to the nape of Jungkook’s neck, not pushing or guiding, just holding, lightly squeezing at the muscle there. Jungkook sighs contentedly.
He can feel the ridges and veins pulsing beneath his tongue. His mouth feels wet with the taste of Yoongi’s precum, musky and heavy. Jungkook reaches the head of Yoongi’s cock and begins to sink down once more, lower and lower, until his nose presses against Yoongi’s stomach, until he feels his throat contracting in protest around Yoongi’s length.
“Oh god, baby,” Yoongi groans. His eyebrows draw up and together, his tongue flashing out to wet his lower lip. A hot rush of arousal floods Jungkook’s body at the sight and he moans around Yoongi’s cock, pushing his hand into his crotch.
Jungkook starts to bob up and down, not too fast, but making sure to keep the seal of his lips tight, the ministrations of his tongue wet and hot. He knows he’s making a mess - he can hear it, the wet sounds of his mouth bringing a flush to his cheeks. He can feel it, too, the saliva gathering at the corners of his mouth.
Yoongi notices, too, grinning lazily. “Messy baby,” he sighs, burying his fingers in Jungkook’s hair and pulling his head back slightly so he can see better. “So cute. That’s okay, bunny. You let yourself drool on my cock.”
Jungkook flushes furiously at Yoongi’s needling, but part of him gives into it, his eyes drifting closed. He makes a show of it, just for Yoongi, pushing his tongue out past his lips to rub against the underside of Yoongi’s cock once more. It’s wet, he can tell, and he feels something akin to shame sparking inside him, but it’s sweet, it’s pleasant, it’s small and helpless and it spreads thickly through his body.
The weight of Yoongi on his tongue is grounding, and the taste of him coats his mouth. Jungkook is hard inside his jeans, too hard, just from this, just from listening to Yoongi’s deep moans. There’s a steady ache between his legs and in his jaw, and he’s desperate for relief, but first, he wants to make Yoongi feel good. Yoongi deserves to feel good, he thinks. Yoongi is so good to him.
Jungkook pulls off Yoongi’s cock with a wet ‘pop’, seeing, with a vague jolt of surprise, that his saliva is dripping steadily down Yoongi’s length.
“What is it, sweet thing?” Yoongi slurs, his voice thick with arousal.
Jungkook isn’t sure he can form the words, so he reaches for Yoongi’s hand wordlessly and secures it more firmly in his hair. Slowly, watching for Jungkook’s reaction, Yoongi tightens his fingers and tugs. A sweet, aching pain spreads down Jungkook’s neck, dripping like honey, and he lets out something between a whimper and a sob. Yes, he thinks, that’s what I wanted.
Yoongi guides Jungkook back to his cock with that hand still tight in his hair, and Jungkook sets up a steady pace, bobbing his head back and forth. Still, Yoongi doesn’t push him, but helps his motions, his hand tightening in time with his twitching thighs and hitched breaths.
“So good,” Yoongi moans lowly. Jungkook makes a great effort to look up at Yoongi through his lashes, holding Yoongi’s gaze. “God, baby, just like that.”
The ache in Jungkook’s jaw is getting a little too intense, so he wraps his hand around Yoongi’s length, taking hold of what he can’t comfortably take into his mouth. Yoongi seems to like this, Jungkook notices, his head tipping back again, a deliciously pretty string of moans slipping from those lips. God, he wants to make Yoongi come, wants to watch him unravel.
Jungkook moves faster, torquing his wrist on every downstroke. He’s rewarded with such lovely sounds, sighs and gasps and deep, velvet moans that shoot straight to Jungkook’s naval. Yoongi’s hand tightens just so in his hair, and Jungkook shivers, full-bodied, moaning helplessly around Yoongi’s cock.
“You’re gonna make me come,” Yoongi pants. He’s still holding himself up by his arm, but Jungkook can see him, can see how tightly wound he is.
Jungkook pulls back just long enough to breathe, to wipe away the drool on his chin with the front of his t-shirt, and to say, “Come in my mouth, hyung.”
He doesn’t hold back, working Yoongi’s cock good and wet and sloppy, his tongue laving over the tip of Yoongi’s length and lapping up his precum. Yoongi’s thighs shake either side of him, his hand pulls so tightly in Jungkook’s hair that his eyes water.
“Fuck, so good for me, love.” Yoongi’s voice hitches dangerously, lower and breathier than usual. Jungkook maintains their eye contact, loving the way that Yoongi has to fight to keep his eyes open, as though he longs to give in to pleasure but doesn’t want to miss this view. “God, Jungkook, your mouth, just like that, that’s it - fuck, I’m - I’m gonna -”
Jungkook just moans again, long and deep, trying to encourage Yoongi to come for him. He wants it so badly that his mouth waters even more, his hand covered with saliva and precum and sweat, god, he’s so messy, wants this so bad. Yoongi’s hips start to roll upwards in time with Jungkook’s strokes, and Jungkook feels his whole body tense, his head dropping onto his chest, his hair falling into his eyes.
Yoongi spills into Jungkook’s mouth and Jungkook keeps going, slower, gentler but deliberate, dragging the pleasure out bit by bit. Yoongi lets out a sob framed by Jungkook’s name, his moans tailing off into deeper, guttural growls when Jungkook swallows hard around Yoongi’s cock. Jungkook waits until Yoongi is spent, until he’s swallowed every drop, until he pulls back, cleaning off Yoongi’s length adoringly and gently with the tip of his tongue.
“Oh my god,” Yoongi gasps, gazing down at Jungkook with heavy, lust-blown eyes. Jungkook smiles shyly, wanting to say something, but - Yoongi’s leaning down, his hands taking a firm hold of Jungkook’s cheeks, and before Jungkook can do so much as take a breath, Yoongi’s kissing him, fierce and wanting.
Jungkook’s lips are pushed apart and Yoongi’s tongue slips into his mouth. There’s a heady moment for Jungkook, a rush of heat as he realises that Yoongi can taste himself on Jungkook’s tongue, and he moans helplessly into the kiss. Jungkook’s hands weakly grip onto Yoongi’s forearms because he needs to hold onto something, feeling the very real and sudden fear that he might drift away.
The kiss breaks, and Jungkook is left reeling, his face hot and Yoongi’s eyes blazing into his own. “Was it okay, hyung?” Jungkook breathes. He thinks he knows the answer, but he also just wants to hear it.
Yoongi brings his thumb to Jungkook’s lower lip, like he always does, pressing into the swollen flesh. “It was more than okay. You always make me feel so good,” Yoongi says softly. There’s a level of sincerity in his eyes that Jungkook hasn’t seen before, and it makes his chest ache sweetly. “Come up to bed, baby. Let hyung take care of you.”
Jungkook lets Yoongi help him to his feet and onto the bed, following his hyung up to settle with their heads against the pillows. It’s comfortable, and Yoongi’s so warm, his movements a little clumsy post-orgasm but also firm and deliberate. Jungkook tries to settle against Yoongi’s chest, but Yoongi is kind of manhandling in, or at least, trying to, struggling a little with still-weak arms and Jungkook’s body weight.
“Turn around,” Yoongi grumbles, clearly getting tired of the struggle.
“Okay?” Jungkook replies, unable to keep the question out of his words.
Yoongi chuckles breathily. “Is it okay if I use my fingers on you, sweetheart? Want you to come on my fingers.”
Jungkook feels like his heart just punched straight through his lungs. A strangled moan escapes him, along with all of the air he had in his whole body.
“God, yes.” He can’t keep the note of pleading out of his voice, even now, even this soon. Yoongi definitely hears it, a new strength to his movements as he positions Jungkook neatly in front of him, his back to Yoongi’s chest.
Yoongi presses a quick kiss to the nape of Jungkook’s neck, then he pulls back. “Take your clothes off,” he says. Jungkook is all too eager to kick off his jeans which have been cutting off blood flow to his dick since before they got home. Behind him, Jungkook sees Yoongi rummaging in his bedside table beside him, having dispensed of his own shirt already. Jungkook takes a moment to just look, to reach back and brush a gentle finger over Yoongi’s chest, his crescent moon tattoo, the firm lines of his stomach. One look from Yoongi, however, and Jungkook is back on task.
When Jungkook settles down once more, Yoongi’s arm winds around his shoulders, pillowing his head. With his free hand, Yoongi reaches down and gently tugs on Jungkook’s thigh, encouraging him to bend his leg up to his chest and rest it down on the mattress. Jungkook feels a little exposed, but Yoongi is closing the distance between them, pulling Jungkook back to press against his chest, and he shivers at the sensation.
Jungkook sees a bottle of lube appear close to his face as Yoongi uses his other hand to coat up his fingers, warming the lube between the digits. “Is this position okay?” Yoongi murmurs, and Jungkook feels lips in his hair.
It’s different, but it is okay, Jungkook thinks - it’s more than okay. It feels intimate, the way Yoongi’s body frames his own, the sheer amount of skin contact, how small and safe he feels in this moment. Jungkook loves that he can feel Yoongi’s breath against his neck and his shoulder, even his hyung’s heartbeat thumping through the muscles of his back.
“I like it,” Jungkook breathes. He nestles further back into Yoongi’s hold. “I really like it.”
“Mmm,” Yoongi sighs contentedly. He noses along the length of Jungkook’s shoulder, his lips pressing feather-soft over the skin there. “Maybe one day I’ll fuck you like this.”
Jungkook moans at the very idea of it, of Yoongi grinding his cock into him like this, of Yoongi’s hand in his hair, forcing his head back - then, the sound hitches into a gasp, as Jungkook feels the first press of Yoongi’s fingers against him.
Two warm, wet fingers stroke firmly over Jungkook’s rim, circling slowly. Jungkook rocks back into the feeling, wanting, already, those fingers sliding inside, anticipating the stretch and aching for the deep, sparking pleasure that comes after.
“Please,” Jungkook whimpers, so quietly. Yoongi shushes him gently, and then Jungkook feels it, one finger pressing inside, so slowly that he keens.
“We gotta take it slow, baby,” Yoongi says, his voice low and liquid. “Remember, it’s only the second time you’ve done this.”
“N-no,” Jungkook pants, without thinking. Yoongi freezes, just for a moment. “Hyung, don’t stop -”
“‘No’? What does that mean?” Yoongi asks. Mercifully, his finger probes ever so slightly deeper, pushing and rubbing rather than sliding in and out, and - Jungkook already feels impossibly full. He could come just from this.
“I - hyung, please -”
“No, you’re gonna tell me.” Yoongi keeps up his relentlessly slow assault and Jungkook is writhing on the sheets, squeezing Yoongi’s free hand. “You don’t want me to stop, do you?”
Jungkook burns, everywhere Yoongi is touching him, and his cheeks, his chest, he burns rosy pink with shame and desperation. “I - myself, a few times, I did it myself.”
“You fingered yourself? How many times?” Yoongi pushes, his voice becoming rough at the edges. It’s so close to Jungkook’s ear that he shivers at the intimacy.
Jungkook tries to speak, he really does, but Yoongi’s finger probes deeply inside him, threateningly close to that spot , and he whines, breathless again. Another finger starts to circle his hole, soothing the stretch.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that, baby.” Yoongi’s hand shoots to just below his jaw, angling Jungkook’s face back and towards Yoongi slightly. There’s no pressure, not on his throat, he can definitely breathe just fine, but the thought of Yoongi’s hand tightening around his neck has his cock throbbing dangerously.
“I - I don’t know - three, four times,” Jungkook babbles desperately. His voice kicks higher as Yoongi pushes in another finger beside the first, moving his focus back to slowly stretching Jungkook out.
“And how was it?” Yoongi asks. Jungkook can feel Yoongi’s lips against the shell of his ear. “How did it feel?”
“Nice,” Jungkook answers. “Not as good as hyung’s fingers.”
“Did you come?”
Jungkook whines. “Yes,” he says at once. “Yes, I -”
“Pretty baby,” Yoongi purrs. His fingers are so firm, unrelentingly so, moving so slowly, twisting and scissoring apart. Jungkook feels like he can’t get enough breath in his lungs. “You’ll have to show me sometime, how you make yourself come on your fingers.”
“Ah, Yoongi-hyung,” Jungkook whines. He’s flushing so furiously that his skin must surely be burning Yoongi where he presses against it. His stomach roils with a cocktail of mortification and pleasure at Yoongi’s words. He can’t help the way his hips rock back onto Yoongi’s fingers, trying to tempt them deeper, deeper.
“What do you think about?” Yoongi asks. He sounds calm, almost unaffected. “When you fuck yourself, what do you think of?”
“I - ah, I think of hyung,” Jungkook admits weakly. “I think of you touching me, making me feel good, I think of your voice, oh god -”
“Ah, that’s right,” Yoongi continues. “You get off on my voice, don’t you? I forgot about that.”
Jungkook can only moan, long and high and needy. Finally, finally, Yoongi slides his fingers out, his knuckles catching deliciously on Jungkook’s rim, and then back inside, slowly, slipping ever closer to where Jungkook so desperately wants them.
“You must be enjoying this, then.” There’s a smile in Yoongi’s voice, a rumble in his words that Jungkook can feel in his bones. “Do you like when I talk to you, bunny? You like hyung’s voice, hm? Does it make your cock all hard?”
“Yes, yes,” Jungkook rambles, in response to both Yoongi’s question and the way his fingers have started pumping in and out, not too fast, but firm, and so deep that Jungkook’s whole body shakes. He spreads his legs a little wider, his cock trapped beneath him on the sheets.
“Like when I called you during your show,” Yoongi goes on. God, he sounds fine, sounds almost amused by the situation, like he isn’t knuckle-deep in Jungkook’s hole right now, like he isn’t pushing Jungkook closer and closer to release with just two fucking fingers. “You were pretty worked up, huh? You listened to everything hyung told you to do.”
“Be-cause,” Jungkook hiccups between his words as Yoongi’s fingers catch so wonderfully against him. “Like to be good for hyung.”
“Oh, you are.” Yoongi’s voice is suddenly so warm, so close, and his fingers probe right there, right against Jungkook’s prostate. Jungkook can’t see, he can’t breathe, can only hear the deep silk of Yoongi’s voice and feel the dizzying, blinding pleasure inside him. “So good. Such a good, pretty boy.”
Jungkook sobs as Yoongi pulls his fingers back. “Please, please, please,” he begs senselessly. “Please, fuck me, please make me come, I can’t take it, please -”
Yoongi chuckles lowly. His hand moves from Jungkook’s jaw to his hair, burying his fingers comfortably. “Okay, love. Hyung’s got you.”
At once, Yoongi knots his fingers and pulls on Jungkook’s hair, tugging his head back so sharply that Jungkook can’t hold back his whimper, wrenched straight from his chest. At the same time, Yoongi lets go of all restraint, forcefully fucking his fingers into Jungkook. The wet sound seems to echo in Jungkook’s ears and he’d blush, he really would, if he had even a shred of sense left.
“You sound so pretty, darling,” Yoongi purrs, his tongue and his teeth curling and tugging achingly softly on Jungkook’s earrings. “Come on, let me hear you, that’s it.”
Jungkook has no choice in the matter, he can’t help the sounds that escape him, the keening moans and the full-bodied whimpers and sobs as Yoongi presses right against his spot with every thrust. He’s been on the edge for so long, and now he feels the warmth inside him peaking and mounting dangerously, like a fist in his navel is tightening and squeezing everything higher and higher, like a rubber band that might snap any moment. Desperately, Jungkook claws behind him, pulling Yoongi until his hyung is half-draped over Jungkook, the weight of his body grounding him but doing nothing to calm the waves of thick, heavy pleasure crashing over him.
“Gonna come,” Jungkook manages to choke out. His scalp is starting to burn where it strains against Yoongi’s fingers, that must be why Jungkook’s eyes are brimming with tears again, not because Yoongi is fucking him so good, so deep.
“Fuck, yes, come for me,” Yoongi pants. There it is, Jungkook thinks, finally hearing the ruin edging its way into Yoongi’s voice, rough and curled at the edges like burning paper. “So fucking hot Jungkook, coming untouched all over yourself, come on, good boy, good baby -”
Yoongi keeps up the litany of praises and pet names against Jungkook’s ear. Jungkook can’t even make sense of the words anymore, just clings to the sound of Yoongi’s voice and grips onto Yoongi’s forearm. All it takes from Yoongi is one merciless, deliberate swipe across his prostate, and the waves finally crash over Jungkook’s head, his hips rolling back onto Yoongi’s fingers and down into the mattress as he comes, hard, so powerfully that blood vessels burst in his eyelids like collapsing stars and the taste of iron fills his mouth.
The fingers inside him don’t still, not for several long moments, and Jungkook finds he can’t quite stop, his hips still working, his fingers still digging into Yoongi’s flesh. He realises distantly that the choked gasping he can hear must be coming from him, it must be, because Yoongi is still whispering such lovely things to him. The waves keep crashing, softer and softer but still heavy, still pushing his head down where there is no air to be found. The stars keep bursting, more calmly, now, but still vibrant enough to send tremors through his whole body.
Yoongi’s fingers relax in his hair, and Jungkook takes a deep, trembling breath. He feels so very hot, all over. Where Yoongi presses against him, their skin slides together with sweat. Behind him, Yoongi is pressing kisses down his spine, over his shoulders. Yoongi’s hand finds his own and interlocks their fingers tightly.
“I’m gonna pull out, sweetheart,” Yoongi whispers against his skin, and he waits for Jungkook to nod before he gently slides his fingers free. “Can you turn over?”
Jungkook does his best, pushing himself onto his back with shaky hands. Yoongi helps, manhandling him again until Jungkook’s face is pressed against Yoongi’s shoulder, his arms weakly snaking around his hyung’s waist.
“Hyung,” he sighs, tiredly but also contentedly.
“I know,” Yoongi murmurs. “Don’t worry. Not going anywhere.”
Jungkook’s brain still seems to be thick with fog, his limbs still tremulous with exertion. He sighs again as Yoongi presses a kiss to the top of his head.
“Like you so much,” Jungkook breathes.
At first, Jungkook thinks maybe Yoongi didn’t hear him. Then, he thinks - maybe that isn’t a bad thing. He doesn’t mean to get so sappy right after sex. They haven’t been going together long, after all. But Yoongi’s voice comes from above him, tight with barely restrained feelings caught in his throat.
“Me too, bunny.”
Jungkook has to bury his smile into Yoongi’s collarbone.