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The crowd cheers, a gut tugging, ear-splitting roar that shakes the ground and enraptures Taehyung, renders him speechless and scrambling to grasp for something to say. His chest aches, the smallest of fires igniting inside the pit of his belly and setting his body ablaze, creeping up into his lungs and squeezing. He gasps. It’s the good kind of suffocating.
“Tae.” He feels a nudge at his ribs, an encouraging push that shakes the weariness from his bones and the dazed haze clouding his mind.
Namjoon peers at him, the glint of his labret harsh beneath the glaring stage lights as he flashes him the smallest of smiles, the kind that brings out his dimples, and the fans go wild.
His head’s a little clearer now, the chants reverberating around the stadium not quite as deafening. He can actually think.
Taehyung clears his throat, grated raw after countless hours screaming, coaxing the audience to join in and sing along with them. He adjusts the strap on his shoulder, lowers his guitar — a well worn vintage bass his father had gifted him on his fourteenth birthday — and grasps the microphone stand.
He licks his lips, a heart stopping move he’d perfected after countless years observing his fan’s reactions, and relishes in the shrieks that cut through the hushed anticipation.
“Good evening, guys!” He pauses, nods along to the enthusiastic greetings they holler back, “did you enjoy the concert?”
Screams erupt across the pit, a wave of enthusiastic nods and flailing limbs.
But Taehyung’s always been a bit of a tease.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you.” He cups a hand around the back of his ear, the corners of his lips twitching up into a wicked grin, “what was that? You guys have fun?”
The stage trembles beneath his feet, the tremors travelling up his legs, along his spine and sending a delicious thrill through his limbs, adrenaline into his bloodstream. This is what he lives for. The exhilaration of standing before thousands and watching them stay, listen to him pour his heart and soul into every string he plucks and every note he sings. To think his dream of expressing his thoughts and ideas through music, a platform he never would’ve imagined he’d associate himself with, had come true — Taehyung’s still waiting for the day he wakes up and finds out that none of this is real.
He flicks his hair to the side, an unintentional jerk of his head that has the girls and boys in the front row choking on their water, their banners falling to the floor as hands come flying to smother flustered giggles. Beads of sweat trickle down his temples, taking the blue of his hair dye with them, and he dabs at his face with a small towel Jeongguk chucks his way.
He glances at him over his shoulder, ever the perfect picture of tall, dark and handsome with his inky curls in disarray, perspiration drenching his shirt and plastering it to a body borne of religiously hitting the gym and lugging around band equipment.
“Thanks.” He winks, pretending he doesn’t send his heart aflutter or tie his stomach into knots.
Jeongguk smirks, a pretty lopsided tilt of his lips flushed red from his habit of tugging at them with his teeth, and Taehyung looks away. He has to. The heat creeping up his neck’s a sure sign he’ll break into a smile so stupidly giddy if he doesn’t.
“I just really want to thank you all for coming, for travelling so far just to see us. It means the absolute world that you continue to support us in what we do and give us so much love.” He sweeps a gaze across the crowd, ensuring he looks at each individual person cramped within the stadium, however fleeting the eye contact may be. He wants them to know just how big a role they play, needs them to realise their impact on his life.
He fiddles with the guitar pick in his hand, runs it between his fingers as he tries his best not to get too emotional. He has quite the track record of letting his emotions get the better of him, and bursting into tears at the ends of their concerts. The constant supply of compilations on social media of him weeping into the sleeve of his shirt or into another band member’s shoulder is truly embarrassing.
“We truly would not be where we are without you. Everything we have, all that we have managed to achieve is all thanks to you.” Taehyung peers up at the fans on the balconies, squinting through the blinding beam of the spotlight, his vision be damned. They came here to see him, it’s only fair he see them too.
“Still feels like it was only yesterday we were composing songs for fun in Namjoon’s tiny little basement.” He chuckles to himself, nostalgia hitting hard and almost knocking him off his feet. Taehyung inhales sharply, a shaky breath that he struggles to get past the lump in his throat, “none of us could even read sheet music then.”
Everything they’ve accomplished is a true testament to how far a group of teenage misfits without a single ounce of musical background can reach with just the right amount of hard work, dedication and teamwork. That’s not to say they didn’t face their hardships on the way. It was a bumpy journey, one spattered with year long fall outs and severed relationships.
But at the end of the day, they’d made it. Together. And that’s all that really matters.
“I’ve actually been working on a new song.” He says, the cacophony of excited screams and surprised squeals only further fuelling the confidence he seizes and does his best to keep a hold of. Regardless of how long they’ve been producing music, releasing a new piece of work to the public never gets any less nerve wracking, especially if it’s something he’d written, himself.
He grasps the microphone, his grip as tight as the hold of anxiety around his throat.
“Please do anticipate it.”
“Please do anticipate it.” The mocking jeer echoes loud inside Taehyung’s inebriated head and he scowls, bemoaning his lack of self restraint when it comes to keeping his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to announce that, but he’d been running high on adrenaline, riding on the expectations people had from him.
The truth is he doesn’t have a song lined up; hell, he hasn’t even put pen to paper in a good couple months. Writer’s block is truly the bane of his existence.
“Shut up.” He snatches the nearest glass of soju, tosses his head back and chugs down it’s contents, slamming it back down onto the table with an indignant huff. It burns, in the back of his throat, and he swipes at the corners of his eyes, dampened with a tear or two. He never has been the best at holding his liquor.
The arm slung around the back of his chair slips down to his shoulders, bringing him into the familiar heat of one rosy cheeked drummer.
“S’okay, Tae.” Jeongguk drawls, teetering on the cusp between tipsy and full on hammered. His eyelashes flutter, a drowsy blink of his lids as he chuckles, “we all go through dry spells.”
Taehyung grunts, wrestling himself free from his grip. It’s too warm, too close, too dangerous. He’s afraid his alcohol ridden brain may just take advantage of his lowered inhibitions and act upon feelings he successfully manages to tamp down on the daily — that’s years of hard work down the toilet.
There’s a snicker from across the table, momentarily halting him in his attempts to push Jeongguk away — the boy sure does get clingy when drunk.
Namjoon takes a swig of his drink, gulping it down with a pinched expression.
“Speaking of,” he says, pointing to Taehyung with a mocking quirk of his lips, “when’s the last time you got laid?”
Taehyung balks, slow to process such a preposterous question.
He turns his head away with a haughty sniff, the snickers from around the table grating on his nerves.
“I don’t see how that’s any of your business.” He bites, finally unravelling himself from Jeongguk’s clutches and crossing his arms over his chest, a defensive stance that he’s wholly convinced will deter them from prying any further.
It doesn’t, especially not after Jeongguk decides to throw in his two cents.
“He hasn’t brought anyone home since our last performance.” He tells them, either completely unaware or just plain out ignoring the holes Taehyung bores into the side of his face.
Taehyung lifts his chin, eyes narrowing in challenge.
“How’re you so sure? You’re in your room by the time I get home.”
Jeongguk slides him a look, one that’s seemingly far too sober for someone who’d been swaying on his feet mere seconds ago.
“You’re not the quietest in bed, Tae.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up into a grin so smug, Taehyung can’t help the blush that spreads across the apples of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose. Jeongguk slips a tongue over his lower lip, worrying at the metal hoop there with his teeth.
“I’m just saying,” he shrugs, cheeks twitching as he tries and fails to maintain a straight face, “the apartment’s been awfully quiet these past couple months.”
Writer’s block, coupled with a pent up sexual frustration that Taehyung’s been harbouring for a good two months now, is driving him up the wall.
He’s in their studio where they have band practice, figures being in such an environment would stimulate his creative juices, get the ball rolling. But having sat here, on a worn leather couch they’d dragged all the way from Namjoon’s basement and refused to replace thanks to their weakness that is sentimentality, for the better half of a day now with barely one stanza scrawled across a notepad, hopelessness is beginning to settle in.
He groans, rolling onto his back and unceremoniously flinging his legs over the back of the couch. Why is composing music so damn difficult? He should’ve just been an accountant or something, anything that had a set routine, formulas to plug numbers into. It would’ve been so much more straightforward.
“Getting off to a good start, I see.”
He cranes his neck, the thump of a bag and heavy footfalls drawing his attention to the pair of clunky combat boots rounding the coffee table — another old hunk of wood barely standing on it’s four legs, spattered in coffee rings Seokjin hadn’t bothered to scrub off after repeatedly reminding them to use coasters. Taehyung likes to think it gives the worn piece some character.
The couch dips, Taehyung’s head tilting with it to thump softly against Jeongguk’s thigh, pressing into the synthetic material of his cargo pants, his favourite pair that he swears by.
“I actually have made progress, thank you very much.” He says as a matter-of-fact, waving his notepad in the air, right in front of Jeongguk’s face. He means to pull it back before he can see the questionably large portion of blank space, but Jeongguk’s snatching it from him before he can.
“Wha— Hey!”
He reaches up, effort minuscule, to take it back but Jeongguk simply raises it higher, out of his reach. It takes him all of five seconds to read over Taehyung’s handiwork.
“Really?” He clicks his tongue, shaking his head in mock disappointment as Taehyung pries the notepad from between his fingers, “you’ve been here since this morning.”
Taehyung scowls, running a hand through his hair and pushing back his headband with a huff.
“It’s all about quality, Jeongguk, not quantity.” He defends himself, skimming over the lyrics he’s come up with so far.
Jeongguk hums, nodding his agreement. Fair enough.
“Alright well,” he fiddles with the hairband on his wrist, a spare in case the one holding up his hair snaps like it had during that one bubblegum blowing incident — he shudders. It had taken him days to get it all out. “Do you want some help?”
Taehyung purses his lips, contemplating whether or not to admit to his lack of inspiration. He’s usually perfectly fine on his own, the lyrics practically writing themselves.
He glances at Jeongguk over the top of his notepad, still on the fence even as Jeongguk cocks an eyebrow up at him, “well?”
Well? Taehyung caves, hauling himself up into a sitting position and scrubbing a hand down his face, frustrated.
“Yeah, please.”
He’ll allow himself this much today, swallow down his pride and accept that everyone needs a little helping hand now and again. Teamwork does, after all, make the dream work.
Jeongguk turns, angles himself to face him, their knees knocking.
“So, what’s it about? What’re we feeling here, exactly?”
Taehyung wants to crack a joke, say it’s obviously their chemistry, but he isn’t too sure he’d be able to play it off as smoothly as he’d like. Not when they’re alone and close enough for him to pick out the details on Jeongguk’s face he’s already seared into his brain — the tiny scar on his cheek, the little mole beneath his lip, the crinkle of his nose when he laughs just a little too hard.
“An infatuation.” He says instead, although it isn’t all that much better. If anything, it just brings him to become highly aware of the heat of Jeongguk’s leg bleeding into his own, his hand planted between them on a couch cushion, a mere inch away from Taehyung’s exposed thigh.
Looking away and attempting to be as nonchalant about his discomfort as possible, Taehyung tugs at the hem of his shorts, cursing his decision to brave the wind and traipse down to the studio this morning in a pair of ‘borrowed’ workout shorts and an oversized hoodie. He’s sure he looks like an absolute nutcase, what with the leopard print headband pulling back his bangs dyed an electric shade of blue.
Though to be fair, it’s not like he has anyone to impress.
“Like a crush?” Jeongguk, bless his soul, doesn’t appear to be aware of the faint flush creeping up Taehyung’s neck nor does he seem to pick up on the awkwardness in his bandmate’s body language.
He leans forward, reaching out to swipe a stray piece of paper off the table and pulling a pen from his bag to scrawl something across it, the tip of his tongue peeking out of his mouth all too endearing.
“Yeah,” Taehyung knows wholeheartedly it’s more than a crush. His heart reacts too much, stutters and squeezes far too often for it to be something so casual, minute. He nods, “sure. A crush.”
Jeongguk jots it down, circling it in the middle of the page.
“And what do you associate with a crush? Does your heart skip a beat? Do you feel butterflies?”
Taehyung exhales slowly, taking in his profile. The adorable furrow of his brows, the refined slope of his nose, the way his mouth parts in concentration.
“Yeah, all of those.” He says, fiddles with his pencil, “but there’s other things too. The feelings beyond physical reactions, the more visceral stuff, y’know?”
Jeongguk looks up, a gleam in his eye and a smile tugging at his lips.
“I don’t, actually. Mind enlightening me?”
Hiding his feelings, pretending that everything’s okay becomes a whole lot more challenging when Jeongguk’s like this, playful. Because when he’s playful, Taehyung’s coerced into playing along and when Taehyung does, he risks being too flirty. He fears he’ll come across too genuine and at the end of it all, Jeongguk can just shrug it all off, pretend he hadn’t just dribbled Taehyung’s heart around like a basketball.
Taehyung can’t. And it hurts to plaster a smile to his face and laugh along, tamp down the hope that blossoms inside his chest each and every damn time. One would think he’d learn, but he doesn’t, doubts he ever will.
“Well,” he swallows, averting his gaze to the table because it’s easier not to get tongue tied that way, allows him to avoid the risk of giving away too much in his glances that oftentimes linger too long. “When he smiles, for example, I get this…” he gestures to his chest, feeling silly for admitting this all out loud, but he supposes it’s okay. It’s all hypothetical, for Jeongguk anyway.
He stares at the tabletop, practically glares at the cracks and splinters in the aged wood as he struggles to encapsulate the warmth that envelopes him, the fondness that settles itself comfortably into the space between his ribs every time Jeongguk’s face lights up. He’s not sure words could do it justice.
“When he smiles,” he tries again, chews on the inside of his cheek, “it’s like, nothing else matters. I could’ve had the shittiest day, made the stupidest decisions, but if he’s happy, it’s almost as if I feel it too?”
The explanation doesn’t come out the way he wants it to, it’s not enough, but Jeongguk halts his train of thought before he can overthink it.
“If he’s happy?”
Taehyung stills, shoulders tensing.
“Planning on serenading someone, are we, Tae?” Jeongguk scribbles onto his little spider diagram some more, shaking his head in amusement, “you never told us you were in a relationship. Gotta give you props for keeping this one under wraps.”
It’s silly, absolutely ridiculous actually, that Taehyung feels even the slightest bit of disappointment in Jeongguk’s complete and utter indifference towards news of him being with someone. He wouldn’t have expected for him to react any other way, but it still jabs at his poor, little heart.
He stares down at his fingers, tries not to let the effect of Jeongguk’s nonchalance show in a flinch.
“We’re not together.” He mumbles, and he watches Jeongguk’s face crumple in the corner of his eye, hates the pity that he sees there. He clears his throat, waving his hand dismissively, “it’s no big deal. Just unrequited feelings, everyone has them.”
It comes out strong, barely a waver in his voice, and he gives himself an internal pat on the back for successfully brushing it off, pretending that it doesn’t sucker punch him in the stomach every damn time Jeongguk makes it blatantly obvious he sees him as nothing more than a friend.
“Just because everyone has ‘em doesn’t make it any less significant.”
He’d hoped they would drop the subject, but Taehyung guesses that was just wishful thinking on his part. They are, after all, supposed to be brainstorming for a song.
He shrugs, tugging at a loose thread on his sweater.
“I’ve gotten used to it.” He can't believe he’s actually talking about this to Jeongguk, of all people, “gets a lot easier after years of practice.”
He probably should’ve reconsidered his choice of words, the immediate flaw in his admission standing out like an eyesore after he shuts his mouth.
“Years?”
He lifts his head, tongue-tied and wracking his brain for a semi-plausible explanation.
“I… well, maybe not years —“
“Is it someone I know?” Jeongguk asks, wide eyes imploring and Taehyung shakes his head, a hurried whip of his neck.
“N-no.” God, he wouldn’t even believe himself.
Jeongguk frowns, placing a hand over Taehyung’s knee, a reprimanding squeeze knocking the air from his lungs.
“Tae, don’t lie to me.”
Taehyung sputters, traitorous cheeks flushing at their sudden proximity.
“I’m not! He’s no one.” He exclaims, heart racing as his adamant denial only further provokes Jeongguk, suspicion clearer now more than ever.
He snorts, “obviously isn’t no one if you’ve been pining over him for so long.”
Taehyung doesn’t get why he seems to care so much about this, struggles to wrap his head around what motive Jeongguk could possibly have behind this interrogation. He’d been so relaxed a mere two minutes ago.
He decides to be petty, unleash the anger and frustration that had been bubbling at the surface ever since he’d come to the realisation that he was, indeed, in love with his best friend.
“Why do you even care?” He snaps, the beginnings of a sneer twisting his mouth into a snarl, “I don’t believe it’s any of your business who I lo— like.”
That’s another little detail he’d rather not let slip.
“Is it our manager?” Jeongguk asks, completely disregarding what he’d just said, and Taehyung’s nose wrinkles in distaste.
So he guesses again, tries and fails over and over to pinpoint just who exactly Taehyung treasures so much.
“Is it that one barista at the coffee shop?”
“How about that guy that helped us out with the flyers for our first gig?”
“Is it one of us?”
Taehyung leans back onto the couch, throwing his hands up in exasperation.
“Gguk, would you quit it?” He grimaces, swallowing down the panic rising up his throat as Jeongguk keeps getting warmer and warmer. He’s treading into territory that’s far too close to the truth and Taehyung needs him to stop while they still can.
“Is it Joon?”
It comes out quieter than the other guesses and, had Taehyung not known any better, he would’ve said Jeongguk even sounded the tiniest bit frightened.
“What?”
Jeongguk blinks up at him from beneath long lashes and a curtain of overgrown bangs he swore he’d cut some time soon, but never did because Taehyung likes to run his fingers through them. He hesitates, gnaws on the silver hoop adorning his lower lip.
“Jimin? Hoseok?”
The palm on his knee squeezes, drifts higher, sitting heavy on a thigh Taehyung draws closer to himself.
He tears his eyes away, focusing on the wall behind Jeongguk’s head, over his shoulder.
“Is it—“ Jeongguk’s breath catches in his throat and Taehyung’s heart stops, stutters and begins it’s ascent into beating right out of his chest.
He hears him inhale, a shaky breath that has dread and anticipation swirling, fighting to overwhelm the other and wreak havoc inside Taehyung’s body.
“Is it me?”
Taehyung swallows, hard, the bob of his Adam’s apple a dead giveaway of what the answer to that question is. And he can tell by the hitch of Jeongguk’s breathing, the blunt press of fingernails on his thigh, that he knows.
And it’s absolutely terrifying because he doesn’t say anything, simply watches as Taehyung’s defences crumble, regret rearing its ugly head and urging him to make a run for it. He should’ve kept his mouth shut.
“Listen, Gguk, I—“ he feels it then, the tentative press of lips to his cheek, and stills, heart pounding and drowning out the voice in the back of his head that had always kept him in check.
He feels it again, on his jaw this time, then another right beneath it, along the column of his throat and Taehyung has to fist at his shorts, bite his lip to muffle a treacherous whimper. Jeongguk’s lip ring’s cold, biting against the skin of his neck, flushed pink and feverish. And when he opens his mouth wider, kisses more firm, purposeful, and dares to run a tongue over the words inked across Taehyung’s collarbone, Taehyung can’t stop himself from moaning. It’s a quiet one, barely lasts a second or two, but it’s enough of an indication for Jeongguk to keep at it, nipping and sucking and driving Taehyung absolutely insane.
He isn’t quite sure how it happens, but somewhere between fighting to maintain any semblance of self control he may still have somewhere deep within the recesses of a mind clouded by a desire long since withheld and throwing his inhibitions out the window just this once, he finds himself seated atop Jeongguk’s lap, shed of his shirt and moaning shamelessly into his ear.
His hands are hot on his skin, fingers and palms calloused from years of playing the drums deliciously rough as they drag across his stomach, the narrow slope of his waist.
Taehyung peers down at Jeongguk’s head, bowed as he ducks it to pepper kisses along his chest, following the path of vines and flowers that wind around his chest and across his rib cage. He bites his lip, tugs the drummer’s hair free from it’s updo and buries his fingers into the silky strands that fall over his forehead. He loves Jeongguk’s hair, how soft it feels between his fingers. It falls to just below his chin now and he knows Jeongguk’s always wanted it longer. He’s just not sure if his heart will be capable of handling that.
He can’t see what Jeongguk’s doing from here, so it’s a surprise when lips encircle one of his nipples, wet and tugging at the bud in a way that has Taehyung’s knees weak, his legs quivering. Thank goodness he’s already sitting down. His knees may have buckled otherwise.
“Fuck.” He gasps, mouth dropping open as Jeongguk tugs, twists at the other with his free hand, the one that’s not beneath him and kneading at Taehyung’s ass through the thin material of his shorts.
His chest’s always been a weak spot, his nipples particularly sensitive and with the way Jeongguk nips at them none too gently, Taehyung may just actually come like this.
Jeongguk bites down a little harder, enough for the sensation to border on painful and Taehyung jolts, a subconscious yank on Jeongguk’s hair earning him a surprised hiss that sends a delightful shiver up his spine. So, Jeongguk’s a sucker for pain.
“Gguk.” He wraps his arms around his neck, nudging his head up and biting his lip as Jeongguk looks at him, pupils blown wide and hooded in an emotion strangely resembling that of the one he has on stage, after they’ve just finished a set, running high on adrenaline and the hype of doing what he loves most.
Taehyung can’t help himself.
He shuts his eyes, pushes past the hesitance that still pulls at his gut, and kisses him.
And God, is it everything he’d thought it’d be and then some.
Jeongguk’s lips aren’t the softest, his habit of chewing at them leaving them a bit rougher around the edges, but it’s okay because Taehyung’s just as bad. He tilts his head, giggling into Jeongguk’s mouth as they knock noses and it’s all so clumsy, but they never really have been anything but. A pair of rebellious misfits from the start, perfect poise and textbook accuracy was never their thing, but it didn’t matter because whatever they did, they did with gusto.
Taehyung kisses with everything he has, everything he’s kept to himself for years, countless nights spent in the arms of others to try and sate his need, his desire for hands that are rougher and more familiar on his skin.
And Jeongguk repricocates with just as much ardour, surging forward until their lips bruise and swell, meeting again and again in a clash of teeth and broken moans.
It’s all too much, too fast and Taehyung pulls his head back with a gasp, heart thundering inside his rib cage, his lungs all but screaming at him to breathe. Because this is actually happening. Jeongguk’s kissing him and it’s all real. He’s here, his palms a solid weight on his hips, his thighs hard, flexed beneath him and Taehyung has to grip Jeongguk’s shoulders, squeeze at his arms just to have something to hold onto and ground himself with lest he float away.
He sinks his teeth into the plush swell of his bottom lip, watches as Jeongguk’s eyes fall to it, distracted, and rolls his hips. An experimental shift that knocks the breath from his lungs and ignites a flame deep inside his belly.
Jeongguk’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into the jut of Taehyung’s hip bones as he does it again, building up the subtlest of rhythms that turn his bones to jelly.
“Shit.” Jeongguk hisses, jaw set as he guides Taehyung’s hips, pulling him down right where he wants him and he watches, in awe, as Taehyung’s eyelids flutter shut, his mouth dropping open in a quiet sigh.
It feels good. So good, but Taehyung’s eyebrows knit together in frustration as he huffs, grinding harder against the bulge in Jeongguk’s trousers.
It’s not enough.
“Do you…” he swallows, embarrassment tinting his cheeks a pretty pink, “do you have any lube?”
The length beneath him twitches and Jeongguk’s nodding, pecking him once, twice as he leans over to snatch his bag from the floor, rifling through the pockets until he finds what he’s looking for.
Taehyung cocks an eyebrow up at him as he pulls back with a packet of lube and protection.
And Jeongguk flashes him a grin, far too aroused to be embarrassed at this point.
“For emergency purposes.” He winks and Taehyung purses his lips, biting back a smile because Jeongguk is, quite honestly, the biggest dork he’s ever met. Though he supposes that might just be why he’d fallen head over heels for him in the first place.
Jeongguk pats his thigh, lube warming between his fingertips, “take your pants off for me?”
And really, who is Taehyung not to comply?
He stands hurriedly, almost tripping over his shorts in his haste to slip them off alongside his boxers and it doesn’t help that Jeongguk’s watching him, drinking up the sight of golden skin, smooth and unblemished except for the rose swirling up around Taehyung’s thigh, over his hip bone.
Jeongguk kisses his teeth, fumbling with the zipper of his own pants and exhaling sharply as he tugs them down just far enough for his cock to spring free, achingly hard and flushed the same shade of red that tints his cheeks. The cold air’s harsh against his tip, where he’s most sensitive, and he bites back shudders as Taehyung clambers back on top of him.
Taehyung forgets there’s nothing keeping them apart and gasps, a choked noise, when he accidentally sits down a little too hard, too hastily and Jeongguk muffles a groan into the side of his neck. He’s hot and hard beneath him, curving to slot between Taehyung’s cheeks and Taehyung nibbles on his lip, grinds down enough to feel his cock slip against his entrance. The fleeting pressure has him biting back a whine.
“Fuck.”
He does it again, builds up a rhythm that has them moaning, panting into each other’s mouths and Jeongguk has to still Taehyung’s hips with a reprimanding squeeze.
“You,” Jeongguk pecks his lips, latching onto his lower one and tugging, “you are driving me fucking crazy, y’know that?”
And Taehyung grins, happiness blooming inside his chest, a fond, steady trickle that warms him from the inside out.
He tilts his head, giving Jeongguk ample room to nuzzle and nip at his neck.
“I’ve been told I have that effect on people.” He says cheekily, a surprised yelp toppling from between spit slicked lips as Jeongguk takes a handful of his ass and squeezes.
“Is that so?” He peppers kisses down Taehyung’s throat and along his clavicles, pink and red bruises already blooming across tan skin. And Taehyung sighs, relaxes as best he can as Jeongguk slips the first of his fingers inside him.
It takes a bit of getting used to, the foreign sensation of having something inside him. Taehyung’s not new to this, by any means. It’s just been a while since he’s taken a guy home.
Jeongguk kisses his shoulder, lips brushing over the stem of a budding flower Taehyung had had tattooed back when his first boyfriend had given him a nickname he still finds endearing to this day.
“You alright, petal?”
He jolts at the term of endearment, cock twitching between their stomachs, and he can feel Jeongguk smirking into his neck. Taehyung huffs. He knows how much that word gets to him, the little shit.
But he replies nonetheless, knows Jeongguk won’t go any further otherwise.
“Yeah,” he breathes, knees spreading a little further and Jeongguk nods, the tips of his fringe tickling Taehyung’s chest as he paints the rest of his chest red, the blunt press of his teeth distracting Taehyung from the second finger that dips past his entrance.
It only takes a few more thrusts, Jeongguk’s fingers expertly crooked at just the right angle, for Taehyung to find himself bouncing on three, a fourth teasing at him, circling around a fluttering hole just begging to swallow up something a little bigger, a little thicker.
He’s not quite full yet.
“Jeong— ah,” his hips stutter, stomach clenching, “J-Jeonggukkie, enough.” He ceases his movements, although Jeongguk continues to rub his fingers against his walls, the drag of calloused fingertips over his soft spot mind numbing.
“Hmm?” He has the nerve to act clueless, thumbing at Taehyung’s perineum as a tongue comes to flick across a nipple flushed a deep crimson.
Taehyung lifts himself, wincing at the loss of his fingers, and wraps a hand around Jeongguk’s cock, revelling in the hiss that reaches his ears as he gives it a few pumps. He thumbs over the head, at a drop of precum that had collected there and brings it to his mouth, half lidded eyes meeting that of Jeongguk’s as he licks his finger clean. And Jeongguk curses, stealing a kiss from his lips as he brings Taehyung closer by the hips, guiding him to hover over his lap right where he wants him.
He kisses him one last time.
“You sure this is okay?”
Taehyung cups his cheek, as sincere as he could possibly be.
“More than.”
And Jeongguk doesn’t waste any more time, tearing at the condom packet with his teeth and slipping it on with a grunt. It’s hot, seeing him all strung out like this. With his lip caught between his teeth and a furrow between his brows that only deepens as Taehyung finally sinks down onto him with a breathless moan.
“Oh, fuck.”
It burns, an ache settling at the base of Taehyung’s spine and he bites out a curse, stock still once Jeongguk finally bottoms out, Taehyung’s ass flush against his thighs.
“S’okay, Tae. You’re doing so good, petal.” Jeongguk peppers kisses all over his face — his forehead, his cheeks, his nose — and it’s all so endearing that it momentarily distracts Taehyung from the length stretching him open, splitting him in two.
After a moment's hesitation, he circles his hips, shudders as he feels Jeongguk in all his entirety inside him, hot and throbbing against his walls.
And Jeongguk, despite the tension in his forearms and the harsh set of his jaw, stays absolutely still, patiently waiting for Taehyung to make the next move.
Taehyung thinks he falls just that little bit harder.
“Okay,” he sucks in a breath, the first bout of pleasure shooting down his spine and straight to his cock that curves against his stomach, “you can— ah, you can move.”
Jeongguk’s tentative at first, so extremely gentle with his hold on Taehyung’s hips so feather light, it’s almost as if he’s not even touching him. And Taehyung smiles, biting back a laugh as he leans in to nibble on Jeongguk’s ear, tugging lightly at the piercings dangling from his earlobe with his teeth.
“You can go harder, Gguk.” He reassures him, emphasises it by meeting one of Jeongguk’s shallow thrusts, punching a moan straight from his mouth, “I won’t break.”
It seems that’s all the instruction Jeongguk needs to let go, shifting to lay Taehyung on the couch and slotting himself between his legs.
Taehyung doesn’t even have time to gather his bearings before Jeongguk’s picking up a brutal pace, each snap of his hips burying him in so deep, Taehyung swears he feels him inside his tummy.
“F-fuck, Jeongguk.” He throws his head back, clenching down on his cock as one particularly sharp thrust jostles his entire body, hits that one spot inside him that has pleasure coiling tight inside the pit of his belly. Taehyung’s mouth drops open, “right there.”
And Jeongguk, like always, listens, hooking one of his legs up over his shoulder and pressing open mouthed kisses to his ankle, his calf. And his hips don’t stutter, the slap of skin on skin loud and obscene inside their practice room.
There’s a fire in Taehyung’s belly, licking at his insides and setting him aflame. It’s all so hot, the backs of his thighs positively burning, but he wants more, needs for the heat to swallow him whole.
“Feel so good, petal.” Jeongguk brushes back sweat dampened hair, his chest rising and falling in tandem with the wild race of Taehyung’s heart inside his rib cage, threatening to beat right out of his chest. And Taehyung swears he could’ve come right then and there, the lewd view of Jeongguk hovering over him with that look in his eye, like he wants to devour him, an image he knows he won’t be able to erase from his head any time soon.
He grips his hips, fingers no doubt leaving bruises on the jut of Taehyung’s hip bones, “gonna come.”
Taehyung swallows, hands flying to grip at Jeongguk’s wrists as he continues to piston into him, driving Taehyung further and further up the couch.
“‘m close too.” He says, that familiar heat twisting inside his gut, coiling tighter with every brush of Jeongguk’s cock against his soft spot.
Jeongguk’s stomach clenches, the muscles in his abdomen rippling as exhaustion begins to weigh at his limbs, settling deep inside his bones.
He leans down, interlacing his fingers with Taehyung’s on either side of his head as he slants his mouth across his, swallowing down the whimpers tumbling past Taehyung’s lips.
The pressure’s starting to build, steadily growing inside Taehyung’s belly as Jeongguk’s thrusts grow hurried, desperate and he whines, writhing beneath him as he feels himself teetering on the edge, so close, but not quite there yet.
“G-Gukkie.” He sobs, wrapping his arms around his neck, his legs around his waist. He needs to hold him, just has to know that this is real and that Jeongguk’s really here, with him.
“Shhh, I’m here.” Jeongguk brushes his hair back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, hips unrelenting. He slips a hand between their bodies, slick with sweat and laden with love bites, to wrap a hand around Taehyung’s cock, jerking him off with quiet reassurances and encouraging whispers.
He nuzzles against the side of his neck, mouths at his ear.
“I’ve got you, petal.”
And Taehyung comes, painting their stomachs white with a cry of Jeongguk’s name and gripping onto him so tight, his nails leave angry red trails in their wake.
Jeongguk follows right after him, muffling a loud groan into the hollow of Taehyung’s throat as he finally comes to a stop, languid rolls of his hips milking Taehyung dry.
They lay there for a bit to catch their breath, basking in the post-orgasmic bliss that brings forth a weariness that tugs at their lids and invites them to cuddle instead of talk. Because goodness knows they’ll have to talk.
It’s only after they’ve cleaned themselves up and Jeongguk’s buttoning up his trousers that Taehyung finally looks over at him, a ball of anxiety weighing heavy on his lungs, blocking off his airways.
“Jeongguk,” he calls, timid and so utterly terrified he’s ruined a friendship built upon decades of trust and years of self control.
The boy turns, tee shirt grasped between his fingers.
“Yeah?”
“Can we,” Taehyung gulps down the regret, the sob bubbling up his throat because this isn’t what he wants at all, but it’s the only way he can think of preserving what they have, “just forget about all of this?”
Jeongguk tenses and the hairs on the back of Taehyung’s neck bristle. Oh God, he’s already messed everything up. He reaches for him, flinching as Jeongguk rises abruptly, standing from the couch and yanking his shirt on a bit more aggressively than he’d intended.
“Gguk, please.”
Jeongguk turns on him, an expression so torn, it knocks the breath from Taehyung’s lungs.
“If you want to forget it then fine, that’s on you.” He fumbles with his belt, fingers clumsy in his haste to get dressed as fast as possible and get out of here. He shakes his head, quick to slip on his boots and sling his bag over his shoulder, “but I can’t.”
“Wait!” Taehyung’s running after him, blocking off the doorway with a sharp shake of his head and hope blooming inside his chest, only it’s thicker this time, almost suffocating.
Jeongguk frowns, tries to push him aside, but Taehyung won’t budge.
“Taehyung…” he sighs, knuckles white as he grips onto the strap of his backpack. Hard.
“I like you, Jeongguk.”
He inhales sharply, the confession knocking him back a step. He’d known, but hearing it out loud, so unabashed leaves Jeongguk stumped.
But it doesn’t stop there. Taehyung’s had enough of keeping this to himself. If it ruins what they have, chases Jeongguk away and out of his life then so be it. At least he doesn’t have to keep on counting the days it takes for him to summon up the courage to confess, pondering on ‘what ifs’ that really only serve no other purpose than to keep him up into the early hours of the morning.
“I’ve liked you for a while now, actually. Ever since you convinced me I was worth more than what people told me. And I just, I thought that forgetting all of this would be better for you. I don’t want you to have to feel sorry for me or…” Taehyung throws his hands up, gestures wild as panic begins to take a hold of his words, “or I don’t know, force you into thinking you have to pretend to like me just to avoid hurting my feelings—“
“ Pretend to like you?” Jeongguk stares at him, incredulous and a touch offended.
And Taehyung frowns, “well, yeah.”
He surely doesn’t expect for Jeongguk to close the distance between them, his bag dropping to the floor with a thud that resounds throughout the vinyl panelled room and crowding him up against the doorway.
“What makes you think I haven’t liked you back for just as long?”
Taehyung’s heart stops.
And Jeongguk leans in, propping a forearm up on the wall by his head.
“What gives you the idea I haven’t wanted to hold you, kiss you, make love to you ever since you cried at our first gig?”
Taehyung’s eyes glisten, wide as he peers into Jeongguk’s, seemingly searching for something. He has to be sure. It’s too surreal.
“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” He says, voice trembling and he swipes at a tear that falls from the corner of his eye, the dastard thing.
There’s no way Jeongguk likes him back. He knows him like the back of his hand. He hadn’t dropped a single clue, a single sign indicating he saw Taehyung as anything more than their lead bassist, a childhood friend.
Fingers grasp his chin, coaxing his head up and Taehyung can’t swallow down the sob that bubbles up his throat this time, at the way Jeongguk handles him so gently.
“I’m in love with you, Tae.” He breathes, looking every bit as terrified as Taehyung feels, “and I’d like to prove it to you, if you’d let me.”
Taehyung’s bottom lip trembles, even as he goes to press a kiss to Jeongguk’s, disbelief still clouding his head and keeping him sceptical. But he pushes it aside in favour of taking a hold of the anticipation that curls his toes, the excitement that sends a pleasant buzz through his system, thrumming through his veins.
“Yeah,” he nods, the corners of his lips tugging up into the smallest of smiles, the very same one Jeongguk had fallen head over heels for back when Taehyung had first approached him in the school cafeteria, “I’d like that.”