Some things you just can’t unsee.
They haven’t been back from the venue long; adrenaline from the show is still coursing through Yoongi’s veins, humming like a backtrack all through his shared shower with Taeyhung. His hands are still shaking with it, body thrumming. There is no way he’ll be sleeping anytime soon. So he’s gone to the room he shares with Seokjin to grab his laptop, intent on spending the night on the couch with the track he’s working on, when he’s stopped dead in the doorway.
The noise is the first clue: a soft hitching breath that makes Yoongi move towards Seokjin’s side of the room. Is he crying? They can all get worked up after a good show but no one has ever cried, not alone in their bedroom.
Yoongi peers around the divider, towel in hand as he dries his hair, and stops dead in his tracks.
Seokjin is definitely not crying.
It is obscene and beautiful. The long line of his body stretches across the bed, knees bent for leverage, hand moving just fast enough to be good, but obviously not enough. And his face – fuck, how does he manage to look so serene and yet utterly debauched at the same time? Yoongi can’t think, he can’t breathe.
The stammered “uh…” is a mistake. He hadn’t meant to interrupt, had meant to slowly back away and put on some headphones until Jin is done, pretend nothing has ever happened. But it’s too late for that now. Seokjin’s eyes meet his and he is glued to the spot. Fuck.
His voice is horse from a night of singing and days of practice, rough in a way that weakens Yoongi’s knees. He takes an unconscious step forward, unable to speak.
“Help your hyung?”
He isn’t sure when or how he’s made it to the bed. Seokjin is spread out before him like a meal and Yoongi is tempted to get down on his knees and thank whatever God is out there for it. His fingers trace a shaky pattern across Jin’s shoulder, unsure how exactly how his hyung wants him to help.
“What should I do, hyung?”
The hand tracing his bottom lip gives him a pretty good idea of exactly what Seokjin wants.
Yoongi shucks his shirt off and tosses it, not caring where it lands. He makes himself comfortable between his hyung’s knees, hands smoothing across the soft skin and appreciating the huffing breath that Jin can’t seem to hold back. When he parts his knees, spreads them further to give himself room to work, Seokjin lets them fall, more flexible than Yoongi’d realized. And it’s going straight to his dick.
He licks a stripe from base to tip, eyes locked on his hyung’s, teasing just the slightest. Out of all the pre-debut fooling around he’d done, it had never been with Seokjin. Seokjin was the beautiful boy on the pedestal and Yoongi was just another admirer. But now, he realized he’d been wrong – Jin deserved so much more than a pedestal. He deserved a fucking seat among the gods.
Seokjin’s soft moan pulls him out of his head. He’s been gently sucking on the tip of his cock without thinking about it, making no move to take more. With a wicked grin, Yoongi dips his tongue into the slit before sliding all the way down, letting the tip hit the back of his throat.
It’s been a long time since he’s had a dick in his mouth and he nearly moans from the heavy feel of it on his tongue. Over a year of celibacy comes crashing down on him all at once, making him hungry for it, for anything Seokjin is willing to give him. He bobs his head once, twice, again, before pulling off with a slick pop, lips wet with saliva.
“Hyung…” His voice is raspy and the whine more drawn out than he’s intended. Yoongi is rock hard in his shorts and desperate. All from sucking his hyung’s cock.
“Come here, kitten.”
Seokjin’s words are a command and Yoongi whines again, crawling up to press kisses to his hyung’s chest. Jin’s hands wander down his body, stopping to enclose Yoongi’s waist in long fingers.
“So small, kitten. So pretty.”
Yoongi practically mewls.
“Will you let hyung fuck you? Hm?”
He shudders, nodding his consent, unable to speak. Unable to breathe.
“Fuck, hyung, please…”
Seokjin rolls away, disappearing from his view for a moment. Yoongi only knows he hasn’t abandoned him entirely when he feels hands dragging him to his knees and hears the snick of the cap of a bottle of lube.
The first finger is not enough. The second is better but only serves to tease him mercilessly. The third has him keening and pressing back, begging silently to be taken. Fortunately, Seokjin is a kind hyung and doesn’t make him wait for it.
The press of his cock has Yoongi moaning into Jin’s bedspread, hands clenching the sheets as his hips roll to take him deeper. The slide is perfect, wet and just this side of too much, and everything Yoongi has ever wanted.
Seokjin is merciless, hips snapping in a rhythm that has less to do with finesse and more to do with chasing his pleasure. But Yoongi doesn’t care because the curve of his cock is pressed against that bundle of nerves that makes his eyes go numb and his hands give out holding him up.
He comes untouched, just how he likes it, with Jin pressed as deep inside him as he can possibly go. The clench of his muscles around him pushes his hyung over the edge, painting Yoongi’s insides white.
They both flop on the bed, sweaty, chests heaving in quiet unison, no sound but their matched breathing. Yoongi can feel Seokjin’s come sliding down his leg but he doesn’t care enough to do anything about it. Luckily, Seokjin’s a better person (or cares about the status of his sheets) and pushes his shirt into Yoongi’s hands too use as a rag.
He watches his hyung reach across the bed and switch off the light, plunging them into moonlit darkness, before pulling the blankets up around them. He throws an arm across Yoongi’s chest, head pressed to his shoulder, and presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Good night, kitten.”
Yoongi falls asleep to the gentle huff of his breath, a stupid smile on his face.
Yoongi had never looked at Seokjin that way. And then, suddenly, he couldn't stop.
The self-indulgent Yoonjin fic no one asked for.
Yet again un-beta'd because I'm impatient, so typos are mine.
When he wakes, Seokjin is gone. Granted, he’d always been an early riser compared to Yoongi and it’s easily half past noon now, but he’d somehow imagined he’d get to wake up beside him.
The rest of the week is much the same: Seokjin casually avoids sharing space with him, whether it’s a seat in the car or the chair next to him during show prep or even a seat at their kitchen table. The easy banter they’d established long ago seems to have vanished literally overnight. And he can’t understand why.
It takes him days to pin his hyung down, to get him in one place for a reasonable amount of time and without any of the other members present. It’s a legitimate reason, too – they need to finalize Seokjin’s vocals for the new version of ‘So Far Away,’ something that requires only them and the studio.
The first four takes are all wrong. Seokjin’s singing the song like he’s never heard the words before, stuttering and stumbling, despite the shortness of the lines. Yoongi can feel a headache taking up residence between his temples and he winces, hoping his hyung doesn’t notice. The last thing he needs is for Seokjin to think he’s wrinkling his nose at his vocals.
“Hyung, is there something wrong?”
“No. Why would there be?”
“Do you regret having sex with me?”
He’d meant to ask if he needed a break before they took another take but the wrong words tumble out of his mouth. It’s a talent Yoongi wishes he didn’t have. He can hear his voice echo through the recording booth and Seokjin looks like someone’s slapped him across the face.
“I need to go.”
The older boy is halfway down the hall before Yoongi realizes he’s fled. Shit.
He lets himself fall into a momentary stupor, gaze stuck woefully on the desk in front of him. The glint of light off a set of house keys pulls him out of it. Seokjin’s keys.
He takes the stairs down two at a time and manages to catch a glimpse of Seokjin’s backpack as he hurries out the door. Yoongi has no hat, no face mask, nothing to shield himself, not even his wallet, but he follows anyway, determined to at least give his hyung the ability to get back in their dorm. But Seokjin isn’t walking towards their dorm, he’s headed away, long legs carrying him in the direction of the small park nearby. Yoongi slows a little, keeping his distance but following him all the same. He’s more curious than anything else, wanting to see where exactly his hyung is going.
The park is designed for low-level businessmen on their lunch breaks and busy moms with toddlers but it’s pretty nonetheless. There’s a fountain in the center, bubbling cheerfully in the twilight, and Seokjin looks like he’s considering falling in face first. But he sits instead, trailing a finger through the water. Light from a nearby street lamp illuminates his face and it’s then that Yoongi notices the tear tracks. And it breaks his heart.
“You forgot your keys.”
It’s a dumb thing to stay and Seokjin jumps at the sound of his voice, but takes they keys anyway. Yoongi chews on the inside of his lip, unsure if he should sit or not.
“Why are you crying?”
Seokjin laughs, dark and ugly, as if the reason should be obvious. He wipes at the tears with the back of his sleeve and runs a hand through his hair.
“I’m fine, Yoongi. Go home.” Yoongi has never been good at following directions, especially from Seokjin, so he sits instead. His hyung rolls his eyes. “Seriously, go. I don’t want to do this right now.”
“This. Talking about…that. About us. Just let me get it out of my system and I’ll be fine.”
Confusion tugs Yoongi’s mouth into a frown.
“Hyung, I’m really confused and I’m kind of worried about you. You just ran out –“
“I like you, okay? I like like you. I’m not mad because we slept together or because I regret it or whatever it is you think. I have feelings for you, Yoongi, and I just want to drown myself in this fountain and maybe get drunk and go back to pretending none of this ever happened before you have a chance to freak out and never speak to me again, okay?”
Realization crawls under Yoongi’s skin and he can feel his mouth hanging open but his brain isn’t connecting enough to form a response.
Seokjin’s words are bitten off and Yoongi can feel how much his hyung hates himself in this moment. This isn’t beautiful, self-assured worldwide handsome Jin – this is Kim Seokjin, just as human as anyone else and all the more lovely for it. Yoongi kind of wants to kiss him. So he does.
This kiss is different from the ones on Seokjin’s bed; this is timid and hopeful and salty from the tears on his face only moments ago. Seokjin’s face is stricken when Yoongi pulls away, as if he’s tasted something he knows he’ll never have again. Yoongi’s heart breaks a second time.
“Why do you just assume I don’t like you too?”
His fingers are tracing Seokjin’s elbow, heart thudding behind his ribs. He’s never admitted to ever having a crush on Seokjin, to ever thinking about him in anything more than a brotherly way. But he wants him to know, to know he isn’t alone.
“Don’t mess with me, please. I don’t think I can take it.”
His hyung’s brown eyes are focused on his knees, puddles of tears building beneath them, not quite to the point of spilling over. Yoongi brushes them away with the callused pad of his thumb.
“I’m not messing with you. Hey, look at me.” He gently lifts his head with a finger crooked under his chin and lets their eyes meet. It almost takes his breath away, how open and vulnerable Seokjin is right now, how beautifully crafted his face is. “I’m not going to lie to you and tell you that I’m secretly head over heels for you or want to get married tomorrow or whatever but…I dunno, this isn’t coming out right.”
Seokjin lowers his gaze again, bracing for rejection, but Yoongi dips his head to catch them again.
“What I’m trying to say is that I’m willing to try it. I want to try it. What we had the other night was fucking incredible and not talking to you all week has been hell. Kissing you all the time wouldn’t be the worst thing ever. And if we got to like, spend more time together too, then that sounds amazing.”
It isn’t exactly what he wants to say, not as eloquent as he’d have preferred, but the smile on Seokjin’s face is spectacular and easily makes up for it. Yoongi is pulled into a kiss before he can even smile back, Seokjin’s arms wrapping around him tightly.
They shouldn’t be doing this in a public park but their picture can be front page news tomorrow for all he cares. At least he has this.
Seokjin’s hand slides into his own, fingers tangled until Yoongi can’t tell where Seokjin’s end and his own begin. They wander slowly back to the studio, silent mostly, heads down to avoid the gazes of the few travelers out this late. No one seems to notice them, lets them float like ghosts down the sidewalk, wrapped in their own reality.
They fall into the studio and slip off their shoes, tumbling onto the couch with no urgency. Seokjin lays with his spine pressed to the back of the couch and holds out a hand – an invitation for Yoongi to join him. And join him he does, turning so they’re almost nose to nose, breathing each other’s air and smiling like fools.
For the second time in a week, Yoongi falls asleep in Seokjin’s arms.
It's been almost a year and a half since I updated this because I'm really bad at follow-through but I got motivated and inspired again so here's another chapter. I'm almost done with Chapter 4 too so that should be up shortly. And it will be a lot sexier than this one. (Yes, I am bribing you to continue reading... ;D)
Anyway, as usual, enjoy!
They should probably stop but, honestly, Yoongi could really care less. Seokjin has a knee pressed between his thighs and he’s sucking a mark just a little too high on his collarbone and Yoongi should probably be concerned that the cordi-noonas are going to murder him but he’s not. For once in his life, he just really doesn’t fucking care.
It’s been a week since the park, since the night spent on his couch in the studio, and Seokjin is utterly insatiable. Not that Yoongi is complaining. But keeping their new found attraction (and, consequently, their blossoming sex life) from the members and their staff is getting exhausting. Not that they’re doing a particularly good job at hiding it. They’re currently backstage at a fan sign, down some random side hall, humping like a couple of teenagers.
“Hyung…” Seokjin cuts him off with the press of his lips and Yoongi groans, hands tangling gently in his hyung’s hair. He’s a sucker for Seokjin’s lips, for how full and plush they feel against his own, for how they taste. “Hyung, seriously, they’re going to come looking for us.”
Seokjin whines, honest-to-God whines like a child, and it goes straight to Yoongi’s half-hard dick, but he finally pulls away. His knees weaken at just the sight of him - lips red and swollen, shiny from the way Yoongi was just sucking on them, hair a total mess. Yep, Yoongi is destined to be murdered by one of their stylists. It’s a fate he can live with.
“I think I killed your hair.”
He reaches up and tries to fix the mess he’s made, tongue caught between his teeth in concentration. Seokjin laughs, soft and amused, as he pulls Yoongi close and kisses him again, albeit much more chaste than before.
“I can’t believe I get to kiss you.”
The words make Yoongi’s heart ache. If he were better with words he’d tell Seokjin exactly that, tell him how falling for him has been so easy, like falling into a bed with fresh sheets, how the lyrics in the black notebook he keeps shoved in his bag have gone from harsh words about the world and fame to musings on happiness and feeling wanted. It’s a little surreal, actually, considering it’s been a week. A week and he’s a total goner. Who knew Min Yoongi could fall so hard?
“You can kiss me whenever you want. After the fan meet.”
Seokjin groans and kisses him again anyway, and Yoongi doesn’t do a damn thing about it. Who is he to resist such perfect lips anyway?
Yoongi’s back hits the wall with such speed and force it pushes the air out of his lungs, leaving him sputtering ungracefully behind Seokjin’s back. Jimin is staring at them both like they’ve grown extra heads and Yoongi has to fight down the urge to tell his dongsaeng to beat it. It’s clear that Seokjin is mortified already; no need to add to it.
“I think they’re ready for us to line up…” Jimin eyes them both like they might start making out uncontrollably in front of him again. “Jin-hyung, you have Yoongi-hyung’s lip balm on your neck.”
Fortunately he leaves after that.
“Fuck, we’re so dead.”
Seokjin’s clearly in panic mode, hand scrubbing at his neck so hard he’s left a red mark. Yoongi carefully takes it in his own. It’s weird to be the one calming the panicking person, rather than being the panicked one. He laces Seokjin’s long fingers through his own, trying not to marvel at how much he likes them there.
“Jimin’s not going to say anything to anyone. It’s fine. It’s not like they weren’t going to find out anyway.”
Seokjin sags against the wall, head in his hands, the fragility that Yoongi loves about him but sees so rarely back to the surface.
“I just thought we’d have more time to...I dunno. Be alone.”
“It’s fine. I promise.” He kisses him once, chastely, trying to make it more than just a kiss. The smile that blooms across Seokjin’s face tells him it’s worked.
Yoongi was wrong. Jimin definitely told everyone.
“Okay, so it’s come to my attention that we need to talk as a group about our relationships with each other.”
They’re sitting in a circle in their living room, the go-to space for group meetings. Usually the topic of concern is rehearsals or someone being ill; they’ve never had a reason to talk about relationships before, romantic or otherwise. Namjoon looks tired, his face the same one he wears when he’s trying to appear leaderly and stern. Yoongi doesn’t have the heart to tell him that, after this long, it doesn’t work on any of them anymore. The rest of them are more casual than their leader - Jimin at home in Hoseok’s lap, Jungkook and Taehyung not paying attention at all in favor of something on the maknae’s phone. Seokjin and Yoongi are seated a respectable distance apart, not making direct eye contact. Though, Yoongi can’t resist inching his hand over so their fingers brush. It makes him feel better, a little, and it makes a shadow of a smile push its way onto Seokjin’s lips.
The oldest had nearly broken down when Namjoon had called the meeting. Yoongi knew he felt some sense of responsibility towards the group, especially when it came to setting a good example. And being caught making out with another member in a public hallway wasn’t exactly that. It took Yoongi repeatedly reminding him that they weren’t really breaking any rules or doing anything wrong to get him to agree not to call the whole thing off and just be miserable. The idea had made his heart pound a little harder, made it a little harder to breathe. Seokjin must have noticed because he’d pulled Yoongi into a sweet kiss and promised he wouldn’t end things before they’d begun. Yoongi had kissed him back a little harder, wondering how the hell he’d gotten so attached in under a week.
So now they were here, sitting cross-legged on the floor of the share living space, trying to look reasonably chastised at being caught.
“I know that we’re a bunch of guys living together and that it’s totally normal that some of us are into dudes,” Namjoon began. “And it sucks that we’re not allowed to date or anything but making out backstage at a public event is probably not okay.”
Despite loving Namjoon like a brother, Yoongi has to suppress the urge to punch him in the glasses.
“Probably not or really not? Because I’m good with my odds if it’s just probably not.”
He shouldn’t be trying to pick a fight with Namjoon, especially since he means well, but Yoongi doesn’t do well when backed into a corner. He calms a little, backing away from his knee-jerk reaction, when Seokjin winds their pinkies together. It’s a reminder to be nice, to remember that Namjoon is a friend who doesn’t care if he likes men. That he’s just trying to protect them.
“I’m just saying that someone less understanding than Jimin could have seen. What if Jeongguk had walked in on you?”
Jeongguk makes an affronted noise, not bothering to look up from his phone.
“I’m literally an adult. I’ve seen worse on your computer.” Namjoon’s cheeks go pink. “I really don’t care if Yoongi-hyung wants to suck Jin’s dick or not. As long as I don’t have to do it.”
Yoongi wants to hug him and smack him, the little shit.
“Jin-HYUNG,” Seokjin sputters, chopping at the younger boy’s neck with his hand as punishment. But Jungkook just laughs and dodges it like he always does.
“We already know we have gay members. Who the fuck cares? They’re allowed to be happy.” Jeongguk is already on his feet, pulling Taehyung up with him. “Fortnite tournament. Have fun talking about hyungs’ sex life.”
Seokjin throws a couch pillow at their retreating heads. Namjoon just sighs like he’s still not sure how he ended up here.
“I think you’re cute together.”
Jimin’s smile is so bright and sincere that Yoongi honestly believes him. Seokjin is clearly pleased, judging by the way he wraps an arm around his dongsaeng’s shoulders.
“It’s nice that you’re happy. It, I dunno...it gives me hope.”
Jimin shrugs when he says it, like it’s a casual comment, even though Yoongi knows its not. He makes a mental note to check on the younger boy later. He gets down on himself so easily. His dongsaeng has a special place in his heart, not that Yoongi would ever admit it out loud. He’s always felt the urge to protect him, ever since they all moved in together and Jimin informed them all he was gay, demanding that they be okay with it. Yoongi had just shrugged and told him he was into men too. The bond had been instant, though a little weird at first. Yoongi was not the gossiping, talk-about-your-feelings hyung Jimin had hoped he’d be but they’d managed alright.
“Fine, look, it’s okay that you’re together or friends with benefits or whatever it is you’re doing, just, please, not in public. You know how the public will react if they find out.”
They both nod, dutiful. From anyone else, the statement might sound like Namjoon was trying to protect himself but Yoongi knows him better than that. Namjoon is his best friend and possibly the purest human being he knows. He honestly just wants to protect his members from hardship. They probably don’t deserve him.
“No one will find out, Joon-ah. I promise.” Seokjin looks appropriately solemn as he speaks. “We’ll be careful.”
Yoongi sighs and puts a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, trying his hardest to also be a reassuring hyung to their leader.
“I promise not to suck Seokjin-hyung’s dick in public.”
The way Namjoon’s ears turn red is worth it. Hoseok and Jimin dissolve into a pile of laughter while Seokjin looks seriously affronted that his dick has been brought up a second time in a group conversation.
“What did I do to deserve this?” Namjoon moans into his hands.
It’s a rhetorical question but Yoongi can’t help but answer as he stands and helps Seokjin up with him.
“It’s karma for Expensive Girl.”
And if he’s laughing a little too hard at Namjoon’s expression as he pulls Seokjin into their room and locks the door, well, he can’t be blamed.
This chapter is purely smut. With a sprinkling of plot. Enjoy.
Yoongi lets himself fall face down onto Seokjin’s bed the moment he walks through the door. It’s been one of those days, one of those where nothing is really wrong but nothing is right either, the kind of day that sucks for no reason at all. Days like this make him feel helpless again, like it doesn’t matter what he does, he’ll never be good enough. His dark mood has been lingering since he woke up and now he wants nothing more than to fall back into his bed and sleep until everything is okay again.
Or he can take a bath. The dorm is quiet for once, one of those rare nights where everyone is busy or preoccupied, and Yoongi can have a moment to himself without interruption. Namjoon and Hoseok would likely be in their studios until after midnight, both working on individual projects. He feels a little guilty for not joining them but he’s had enough of listening to melodies that just won’t form into songs for one day. Seokjin is with the vocal line, treating them to dinner in an effort to get out of cooking for the night. He’d texted Yoongi earlier to ask if he wanted to come but he’d ignored it, afraid the older boy would catch on to his bad mood and be worried. The last thing he wants to do is worry Seokjin with his own drama so soon into their relationship.
He pulls off his clothes slowly while the water runs, letting the sound of it crashing into the tub pull him out of his head a little. This is one of the few rituals that really calms him, even when he’s worse off than today. There’s something soothing about warm water and soft, foamy bubbles and just being still that makes him feel at peace. He sinks into the water with a satisfied groan, eyes falling shut, senses overcome with the smell of jasmine and sandalwood. Perfection.
It’s an hour or a century or maybe just a minute before he hears someone else enter the dorm. The chime of the keypad on the door pulls him out of his reverie, startling him just enough to send a few bubbles over the side of the tub. Whoever is home is quiet, meaning it can’t be the vocal line. Likely it’s just Namjoon grabbing dinner before returning to work. Yoongi lets his eyes fall shut again and his head lay back against the edge of the tub.
“You look comfortable.”
Water sloshes over the side of the tub as Yoongi starts, head smacking against the tiled rim.
“Holy shit, hyung, what the fuck!”
Seokjin cackles, ignoring the pointed glare his dongsaeng sends him as he clutches his head. Yoongi doesn’t find it as funny, an embarrassed blush spreading across his cheeks at being caught.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The older boy kneels beside the tub and presses a kiss to Yoongi’s head.
“I thought you were out with the kids.”
Seokjin shakes his head and deposits himself on the edge of the tub, fingers playing with Yoongi’s hair.
“We had dinner but they wanted to go out after for drinks and karaoke. I’m too old and tired. And I was kind of hoping you’d be home.”
Yoongi looks up at that, cheek against his hyung’s palm.
“Mm. I was worried about you. You seemed off this morning.”
Leave it to Seokjin to notice the one thing Yoongi tried to hide.
“It was just a shitty day. I’m fine.”
“Let me make it better, hm?”
Long fingers thread through his hair and tug a little. It sends a shiver down Yoongi’s spine, making his cock throb with interest. Seokjin has never been anything but delicate and sweet with him; he can’t deny he’s curious where this is going.
Wordlessly, he lets Seokjin guide him from the tub and into their room, wrapped in a fluffy towel like a child. He sits him on the edge of his bed and carefully dries his hair before tossing the towel to the side and disappearing into their closet.
“Hyung?” Yoongi moves to join him, curious.
“Did I say you could move?”
He stills, eyes wide, watching his hyung as he returns. A thin, black tie is wound through his fingers.
“I heard once that the best thing you can do when you’re having a hard time is to let someone else be in control for a while.” Seokjin straddles his lap, the denim of his jeans rough against Yoongi’s freshly washed skin. “Would you like me to be in control for a bit, Yoongichi?”
He nods too quickly, too eager, and Seokjin’s laugh goes straight to his dick.
“Be good, kitten, and lay back for me. Put your hands against the headboard.”
The way he weaves the tie around his wrists and through the headboard is like art, the silky black material a stark contrast against pale, pale skin. When he’s done, Yoongi can only tug against it in vain, unable to do anything more than twist helplessly. He loves it.
Seokjin pets him like he’s a fucking cat, hand stroking over his hair in a way that’s comforting and humiliating and infuriatingly not enough. Yoongi whines low in the back of his throat, already desperate for more.
“Shh, kitten, it’s okay. I won’t leave you like this for long.”
Watching his hyung undress is like watching someone unveil a marble sculpture for the first time. Clothes don’t do his figure any justice. An old pink t-shirt reveals broad, sculpted shoulders, and denim falls away to show a tiny waist and thick thighs. The black Calvin Kleins are the last to go, letting Seokjin’s cock spring free. Yoongi thinks his mouth might actually be watering.
Seokjin’s cheeks pink at the compliment and he hushes Yoongi with his lips.
“I’m the one who’s supposed to be taking care of you, not the other way around.”
“It’s fucking true, though.”
He silences him again, though this time it’s with the drag of his tongue over the head of Yoongi’s dick. But he doesn’t stay there long, body moving down the bed until he’s got both of Yoongi’s legs over his shoulders and his breath is ghosting over his entrance.
It’s embarrassing, being examined so closely like this, almost as if Seokjin is contemplating whether or not he actually wants to follow through. But it’s doing things to Yoongi, making his hole twitch in anticipation, and he can hardly stand it.
“You don’t have to, if you don’t want.”
It’s not everyone’s cup of tea, even though Yoongi loves it. He hasn’t been rimmed in literal years, since the last time he had a friend with benefits, and he hasn’t eaten anyone else out in just as long. It gives him ideas for later.
“Oh, I want to.” Seokjin traces a finger around the pucker of his rim, barely applying pressure, teasing. “I’m just admiring how tiny you are. I can’t believe you can take me.”
Yoongi blushes and whines but it’s cut short by the first swipe of Seokjin’s tongue against him. There’s no timidness or hesitation; the older boy eats him out like a man starving. His hands pull against the restraints, body shaking at the stimulation. Seokjin’s tongue is inside him and he’s rolling his hips down to meet it, riding his face.
“‘Please’ what, kitten?”
He’s not playing fair, not when Yoongi’s already this far gone and Seokjin’s licking his lips like it’s the best meal he’s ever had.
“Fuck me, please, hyung...I swear, I’ll be good, just please...I need you…”
He cuts off Yoongi’s rambling with a filthy kiss and Yoongi can taste himself on his tongue. It’s fucking hot.
“Since you asked so nicely…”
Yoongi has no idea where the lube comes from when Seokjin drizzles it over his ass but the chill of it against his skin has his hips canting. His hyung laughs, hands pushing his hips back down. He presses one long finger inside him, then another, then another, purposefully avoiding the spot he knows will make him feel good. Yoongi almost doesn’t care, is satisfied enough at finally being full.
Seokin’s cock is better than his fingers, though - the blunt pressure of the head as he pushes inside, the way it curves against his prostate just right, the way he can see it push against the taut skin of his stomach when Seokjin pushes in hard and deep. Yoongi’s got his knees locked around his waist, head thrown back as Seokjin pounds into him with more force than Yoongi even realized he was capable of. It’s so fucking good, so perfect, has his eyes rolling back in his head, and he hasn’t even touched his own dick.
“Will you come for me, kitten, hm?” His voice is strained with the effort of fucking him. “Can you come just from hyung’s cock? You look so pretty, kitten, so good with me inside you.”
It’s becoming sloppy, devolving into a search for pleasure instead of his previous finesse, but Yoongi doesn’t care. No one’s ever been this deep inside him, never spoken to him like this. His head is fuzzy, his whole world narrowed down to the feeling of Kim Seokjin’s cock inside him.
He thrusts hard, cock fully sheathed inside him, and Yoongi is coming, head thrown back and sobbing Seokjin’s name. He barely registers the feeling of his hyung coming inside him, warmth flooding through him as stars crowd his vision. He’s floating, untethered from the world, body light as a feather and heavier than stone. Gentle hands are untying him, rubbing at his wrists, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Yoongichi?” A kiss is pressed to his forehead. “Baby, are you okay?”
Yoongi smiles, dumb and sated, completely and utterly happy. He’d forgotten about this headspace, about how good it could feel.
“I love you, hyung.”
He reaches out and traces his fingers over the soft blush on Seokjin’s cheek.
“Mm, yeah. I fucking love you.”
There’s a soft laugh and a kiss to his nose.
“I love you too, Yoongichi.”
“Will you stay for a while?” Yoongi shuffles closer, legs still wrapped around Seokjin’s waist to keep them connected. “Don’t pull out.”
The smile he gets in return is warm and amused.
“You really fall hard, don’t you?” Yoongi blushes but nods. “It’s adorable.”
Seokjin maneuvers them onto their sides but stays close, wrapping Yoongi in his arms tightly.
“You’re so cute, Min Yoongi. I don’t think I can stand it.” Long fingers brush hair from his forehead. “So perfect.”
They kiss for a moment, wrapped in each other and the moment and their own little world. Yoongi is bone-tired in the best way but still wants more, wants to be close to Seokjin still, would climb inside his heart if he could.
“Can I...do you care if I take a picture? Of us?”
Seokjin’s voice is unsure so Yoongi kisses him. No one has ever wanted a photo of him before, not like this. Not for reasons that aren’t purely sexual.
“Like a naked picture?”
He raises an eyebrow at the request, curious if he’s going to become part of Seokjin’s spank bank if they’re ever apart. But the older boy shakes his head.
“No, just...a picture of us. Proof. That I get to have you like this. That you actually want me too.”
Yoongi takes the phone from Seokjin’s hand and aims it, pushing the button as he presses their lips together, kiss fierce and perfect. When he finally pulls away and looks at the image, he smiles. It’s grainy, too close in a room too dim, but it’s clear enough: Yoongi is kissing Seokjin like he’s the last breath of air he’ll ever take, Seokjin’s arms wrapped tightly around him, bare chests pressed together and flushed from previous activity. It’s perfect.
“You’re the only person who gets to have me like this.”
He reaches down and pulls the blankets up around them, not caring that they’re both sweaty and in need of a shower. They can worry about that later. Seokjin is smiling, cheeks pink.
It’s probably a terrible idea to fall in love with his hyung but Yoongi can’t help it. He’s never been very good at doing what he was supposed to.