“You’re kidding, right?”
Only a couple more to go.
“I mean, I ordered medium rare. This is raw.”
Yoongi looked at the pink insides of the filet. He released his breath. “I’m sorry about that. I can have them re-cook it?”
The woman’s face pinched. “I expect a brand new filet.” She looked Yoongi up and down, clearly unimpressed. “Can I speak to your manager?”
It was pushing eleven hours on his shift, and Yoongi was tired.
The overtime was nice, shit fuck he really needed it, but if he had to listen to one more stupid fucking person who didn’t know what the meaning of rare was give him an attitude over their correctly cooked to order steak, he was going to have an aneurysm.
His feet dragged as Yoongi entered the kitchen, and he dropped the plate on the counter with a clatter. “I need a new one. And Junmyeon.”
“You’re fucking killing me,” Seokjin said, waving one of the sous-chefs off with a spatula. “And Junmyeon is going to kill you if you get one more complaint. What’s your deal today?”
“I’m tired,” Yoongi snapped, bracing himself on the counter. “Shit, sorry. I’m just—” he shook his head, pressing his palms briefly to his eyes. “Kyungsoo keeps sitting all the fucking douchers on my side, and everyone is tipping like shit, and I’ve still got three more fucking hours, and I’m about to—” Yoongi took a breath and tilted his head back before levelling Seokjin with a look. “How’m I supposed to know that they mean well done when they say medium fucking rare? Jesus. At that much a plate, they should know what the fuck they’re talking about.”
“Okay, relax,” Seokjin said shortly, nudging the rejected steak back towards Yoongi. “Eat. You look dead on your feet. When’s the last time you ate?” He handed Yoongi a fork and knife.
“I gotta find Junmyeon,” Yoongi muttered, taking off a piece and eating it. It was fucking good. That lady was a fucking moron.
“Take three more bites at least. And drink some water,” Seokjin said. “And you know what, I’ll bring this out personally to them. What table is it?”
Yoongi squinted at him, taking another bite. After he swallowed, he said, “Seventeen.”
“Got it. Drink water,” Seokjin pressed. “Don’t you have class in the morning?”
“You relax,” Yoongi said, but he shot Seokjin a grateful look before Seokjin turned back to the stove to make a brand new steak.
Junmyeon took Yoongi off the server shift after the lady bitched at him for seven minutes, switching Yoongi with Kyungsoo. It’s how Yoongi found himself stuck at the host stand, absolutely boiling about the fact that he’d lost all chance of decent tips for the night. He’d just finished explaining to a customer that there was no way for them to have unlimited breadsticks on a to-go order, and no, they could not get a discount because of that, and his head hurt.
Fortunately, the restaurant was closing in ten minutes, and all Yoongi needed to do before going home was clean. No people, no customers.
He could taste his freedom. He could feel his mattress.
A burst of damp, cool air from outside blew into the lobby, and Yoongi looked up, wondering what the fuck kind of asshat was coming in so near to closing time, and already looking to see which table Kyungsoo had open so he could sit the fucker there.
It was one guy, bundled in a dark, expensive looking, waterproof coat that came down to his knees, dark jeans sticking out past the hem. There was a baby blue scarf pulled around his chin, and his hair was brown and sticking damply to his forehead.
Yoongi bit the inside of his cheek as the guy came to stop just on the other side of the host stand, pushing his hair back from his eyes and then lowering the scarf to reveal the rest of his face.
He grinned in greeting and when Yoongi opened his mouth, nothing came out.
“Hello, I’m picking up a to-go order?”
Yoongi closed his mouth, eyes flickering down to the computer screen, then back up at the guy. He was still smiling, eyes bright under the dark line of his brows as he looked right back at Yoongi.
The deep timbre of his voice was surprising, but Yoongi wasn’t one to judge, as many people were often surprised by the deepness of his own voice. This guy just seemed so—
Yoongi told himself to snap the fuck out of it. The jeans this guy was wearing looked like they were worth more than the entire menu.
“Name?” Yoongi said.
“Taehyung. What’s yours?”
“That’s not—” Yoongi grimaced, shaking his head as he clicked on the computer screen. “Yoongi.”
“Nice to meet you,” Taehyung hummed, leaning a little further over the counter so he could get a better look at Yoongi, who flushed and leveled Taehyung with his own look.
“Right,” Yoongi said. He paged through the screen, trying not to frown too deeply. “Taehyung—I don’t see an order here for you. When did you call?”
Taehyung straightened. “What the fuck, really?” he said, and Yoongi’s stomach dropped. Here we go.
Taehyung just seemed perplexed, but Yoongi knew from experience how often that could turn into frustration, and then anger, and he wasn’t really sure he was able to take that from someone as beautiful and sunny as Taehyung.
“Let me see,” Taehyung said, pulling out his phone. “I called—um—look, here, I called an hour ago, and they told me it would be ready in forty-seven minutes, so—”
Yoongi looked down at the screen, showing Taehyung’s call history. “That—you’re at the wrong location.”
Taehyung blinked, pulling his phone back towards himself. “What?”
Yoongi nodded at the screen. “This is the East location? The one you called is the West Downtown location? It’s, ah, like—” Yoongi’s lips pulled into a grimace, “forty minutes from here.”
“Oh my god,” Taehyung exclaimed. “Oh my god I’m so sorry.”
Yoongi blinked. “You’re what?”
Taehyung laughed a little, looking embarrassed. “Well, I just, came in here and asked for my food and you just had no idea what I was even talking about because my dumbass called the wrong fucking location—”
“Whoa,” Yoongi said, with his own small laugh. “You really—you really don’t need to apologize. Here,” he said, not quite sure what had overcome him but Taehyung looked sort of like nearly-drowned puppy. A very expensive, nearly-drowned puppy, one of the ones with a Louis Vuitton collar—but he wasn’t being an asshole, and he wasn’t giving Yoongi an attitude. “What was your order? I mean, I might be able to bully the chef into making it in ten minutes if you wanted to wait.”
Taehyung’s eyes widened. “Seriously? You guys are closing soon.”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi said.
Taehyung’s smile was coming back on his face. “Okay um, well, it was the—” Taehyung suddenly went pink, and Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “The—the filet mignon for two with a side of, ah, the garlic potatoes and asparagus, and, uh, a bottle of the 2010 De Laux red?”
Yoongi kept his eyes on the paper as he wrote down the order. “Okay, any appetizer or dessert?”
“It’s all for me,” Taehyung blurted. “Like, I’m eating this all. Only me. It’s just me. I mean I still want the two servings but it’s not “for two”, you know—"
Yoongi looked up. “Hungry?”
Taehyung blinked, then snickered at the joke. “Fuck. You’re cute.”
Yoongi tried not to the crinkle the paper with Taehyung’s order too much in his surprise. “Uh. Thanks.”
Taehyung flushed, but he was still smiling. “So, ah, Yoongi—I mean, I’ll just wait—”
“You can wait here,” Yoongi said, then felt himself flush too. “If you want. Um, there’s a bench over there, and I have to put in this order, but you can wait—”
“I’ll wait here,” Taehyung said with a laugh, shrugging off his jacket and pulling off the scarf completely to reveal a dark blue sweater that looked nicer than anything in Yoongi’s entire closet. Taehyung offered Yoongi another warm smile as he walked over to the coat rack next to the host stand and hung up his things.
Yoongi snapped out of his daze and turned on his heel to make his way towards the kitchen, berating himself. Half a dozen handsome rich guys walked into the restaurant every single day. There was no reason this should be any different.
“Can you make me two of the couple’s filet mignon dish?” Yoongi said after finding Seokjin in the kitchen. “Side potatoes and asparagus. Take-away.”
“I hate you,” Seokjin said, already going for the filet cuts. “Actually, I hate the couple that decided they needed bougie fucking steak at eleven o’clock at night.”
“The guy’s nice so, don’t spit in it or anything. Make it fast if you can.”
Seokjin raised his eyebrows. “Guy must be an angel if you’re defending him.”
“Just call me when it’s ready,” Yoongi called, already stepping out the door.
Taehyung was still standing by the host stand when Yoongi walked around the corner, his arms folded over the surface and his posture relaxed. He perked up when Yoongi stepped up to the stand again.
“Do you go to university?”
Yoongi tried not to stare at the little rain droplet quivering by Taehyung’s temple. “I’m graduating this semester, actually.”
“Oh,” Taehyung hummed, smiling. “So you’re older than me.”
“Surprised?” Yoongi said dryly.
Taehyung grinned. “If I say no, can I call you hyung?”
Yoongi didn’t know why that made him blush, but he blushed. Taehyung’s grin widened.
“Call me whatever you want,” he said gruffly, not meeting Taehyung’s eyes as he straightened up the clutter on his side of the host stand.
“I’ll keep that in mind,” Taehyung chuckled. “What are you studying?”
“Business management,” Yoongi said.
"I’m studying art. Second year,” Taehyung said. He reached over the wooden surface and put his hand on top of Yoongi’s.
Yoongi stared, at the contrast of Taehyung’s honey skin against his own, the slender extension of his fingers smooth and delicate compared to Yoongi’s knobby knuckles.
“Um,” Yoongi said. “They’re nice.”
Taehyung grinned lifting his hand off of Yoongi’s and putting it closer to Yoongi’s face. “I was showing you the charcoal. See? All over my fingers? It’s what I was doing tonight. And then I got hungry.”
“Oh,” Yoongi said, and immediately wanted to kick himself. He’d been so preoccupied with how pretty Taehyung’s hands were, he hadn’t even realized what Taehyung was trying to show him. “Right, yeah, so. You sketch?”
Taehyung chuckled, and then he brushed he fingers under Yoongi’s chin before pulling his hand back towards himself. “I dabble. Oh, shoot,” he said, leaning forward again and peering at Yoongi. “I got charcoal on you.”
Yoongi wouldn’t mind if Taehyung got charcoal anywhere, suddenly. “S’fine. I’m gonna have to shower when I get off anyway.”
“Here,” Taehyung said, grabbing his scarf with a flourish and then rubbing the cashmere under Yoongi’s chin.
“I have—napkins—” Yoongi said, trying to jerk his dirty chin away from the scarf but Taehyung tsked and followed the movement.
“I’ve got like six of these,” Taehyung said, pulling back the the scarf and smiling at Yoongi. “Don’t sweat it.”
Yoongi glanced at the scarf, catching the embroidered brand name on the end. “I hope charcoal comes out in the wash.”
“Doesn’t need to. It adds character.”
“You should’ve left it on me, then,” Yoongi said. He found himself smiling.
Taehyung grinned. “I thought you had enough character regardless. But if you’re complaining—” he swiped his thumb across Yoongi’s cheek, ducking back when Yoongi swatted at him. Yoongi was still chuckling when a heavy paper bag was put down on the stand to his left.
He and Taehyung looked around. It was Seokjin, who was looking between Yoongi and Taehyung with raised eyebrows.
“Thought I’d save you the trip,” Seokjin said to Yoongi, squinting a bit.
“Um, thanks,” Yoongi said.
“Mhm,” Seokjin hummed. “All right, well. Enjoy,” he said with a quick bow to Taehyung.
Taehyung bowed back, and Seokjin, seeming mollified, headed back towards the kitchen.
“Shit, the wine,” Yoongi said. “I’ll be right back.”
The wine room was just behind the host stand, and Yoongi was quick to slip in and find the bottle Taehyung had asked for. He balked a bit at the price tag. That was ridiculous, even for this restaurant.
He shook his head, wrapping it in brown paper and putting it in a logoed bag. When he stepped outside, Taehyung was waiting with a credit card in hand.
When Yoongi told him the total, Taehyung just smiled and handed over the card. It was matte, black, and heavy between Yoongi’s fingers. He swiped and handed it back with the receipt for Taehyung to sign off.
“I hope you have a nice night,” Taehyung said, filling in the lines and pushing the paper over to Yoongi.
Yoongi took the receipt back from him, smiling a little at the charcoal smudges on the white paper. “You—um, holy shit?”
Taehyung cocked his head. “What?”
Yoongi fumbled with the receipt. That was definitely one more zero than Taehyung had intended. “Oh, fuck. I mean—shit. Did you want to—I think that’s a mistake?”
Taehyung frowned, leaning forward to peer down at the receipt. “Is it? Did I miss an item?”
“No, ah—” Yoongi cleared his throat. He tapped on the receipt. “It’s just. This isn’t really—” Yoongi wanted to die, a tip this much was worth three months of an electricity bill. Even split between tonight’s staff, it would save his shit night.
Taehyung’s brow rippled. “You’re supposed to tip according to how great the service is, right?”
Yoongi pursed his lips. “Yeah…but—”
“Is it not enough?”
“Oh, fuck,” Yoongi said. “Taehyung, it’s a lot.”
“I liked your service a lot,” Taehyung said earnestly.
Yoongi flushed red.
“Oh,” Taehyung said, wrapping his scarf back around his neck and muffling a giggle into the cloth. “Not like that. Yoongi-hyung, you’d be worth a lot more than that. Not that I—but, I mean—”
Taehyung cleared his throat, looking at Yoongi in a way that had him flushing all the way down to his motherfucking toes, and Yoongi looked down at the number by the tip line. He looked back up at Taehyung.
“You think so?”
Yoongi didn’t know what had prompted him to fucking say that, but Taehyung’s smile stayed in place, and Yoongi didn’t really—regret it.
“I mean if I’m being honest, Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung said. “That number might be, ah, a little more than I’d normally tip because I think you’re cute.” Taehyung lifted one shoulder in half a shrug. "But no exchange of goods. Well, except, the meat," Taehyung pointed at the take-away bag.
Yoongi looked to the side. He felt warm. “You're fucking ridiculous.”
Taehyung grinned. “Oh, man. I think there’s a lot I could show you, hyung.”
Yoongi shook his head, pushing the receipt to the side and swallowing. “Your food is going to get cold.”
“Hm,” Taehyung said, swinging the raincoat over himself and zipping it up. “Well, thanks very much, Yoongi-hyung.” He hooked the loops to the takeout bag over his wrist. “I should get lost more often, if it means finding you.”
Yoongi allowed himself a smile. “Have a good night, Taehyung.”
Taehyung waved at him, grabbed the wine bag, and turned to leave. The door had barely finished shutting behind him before it was swinging open again and Taehyung was bursting back through, his hair a couple shades darker from fresh rain water.
“Hyung,” he said, and Yoongi startled. “Do you have an umbrella? It’s pouring.”
“I—” Yoongi threw Taehyung a bewildered look. “I won’t be out of here for at least an hour, it’ll probably ease up by then—”
Taehyung held up his hand. “Just wait here,” he said, and then he was dashing out the doors, leaving Yoongi gaping dumbly after him.
Junmyeon chose that moment to poke his head around the corner. “Hey, you can lock up, Yoongi. Close out the register, too.”
“Uh, yeah,” Yoongi said, glancing at the door. Junmyeon left with a nod, and when Yoongi was halfway through counting the cash in the register, the doors flung open, Taehyung whirling in through in a wave of cool air and water, brandishing a big, red umbrella.
“Yoongi-hyung!” he exclaimed, hurrying up to the stand. “Use this.”
Yoongi grabbed the umbrella out of instinct more than anything. “Taehyung—why aren’t you using it?”
Taehyung shrugged and smiled. “I don’t mind the rain.”
Yoongi rolled the umbrella between his hands. “You’ll get sick that way.”
Taehyung hummed, using two hands now to push his wet hair back from his forehead. “Are you worried about me, Yoongi?”
Taehyung breathed out a laugh. “Right, hyung. Just take it.” Taehyung bounced back, then slipped a little on the wet tile. “Oh—shit, look what I did—”
And before Yoongi could say a word, Taehyung was pulling off his scarf again, ducking down on his knees and using the cashmere to wipe up the excess rain water.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said, stooping to grab a roll of paper towels and coming out from around the stand. He dropped to all fours, knocking Taehyung’s scarf off the ground. “Fuck off, that shit is worth my water bill, get it off the ground.”
“What—” Taehyung said, bemused, huffing when Yoongi lunged across him to swipe up what was left of the water. It hadn’t been that bad. “It’s fine—”
Yoongi, at that moment, stretched out to reach the last of the small puddles, slipped, the hand that had been supporting him sliding along the tile.
He would have fallen smack on his chin, but Taehyung grabbed him quickly, shifting his body so that instead of smashing his face into the marble floor, Yoongi smushed it against Taehyung’s chest.
Yoongi shoved himself up with a grunt, flushing when he realized he was halfway straddling Taehyung, who’s expensive coat was all over the damp marble floor.
“Careful,” Taehyung teased. He smelled like spring rain, and underneath, something sharper, like a gardenia not yet bloomed.
Yoongi shifted back a little. “My manager would fire me if he saw this.”
Taehyung chuckled. “Not after I spoke with him.”
Yoongi scrambled off Taehyung’s lap, offering a hand to help Taehyung up, which he accepted.
“Just keep the umbrella safe for me,” Taehyung said, and, winking at Yoongi, he slipped his hand out of his grasp and ducked out the door for a second time.
It was still raining when Yoongi left an hour later, but the umbrella Taehyung had left him kept him dry until he got home.
It was maybe four days later, and Yoongi was balancing five plates of appetizers for a fifteen-party table when Junmyeon said to him, “Yoongi, there’s someone asking for you out front, he’s been pretty insistent, can you—?”
“Fuck,” Yoongi said, ignoring Junmyeon’s glare at the curse. “Just give me a minute.”
He was quick to pass out the dishes, took down nine more drink orders, and gave them to the bar on his way to the lobby.
Kyungsoo was working the host stand. Yoongi sighed and tapped his shoulder. “Hey. Junmyeon said—”
“He’s over there,” Kyungsoo said shortly, jerking his head by the front doors. “Told him not to waste his time with you but he insisted.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, changing direction. “Thanks.”
It was only a few strides to the bench Kyungsoo had gestured towards, and by the time Yoongi recognized Taehyung sitting there, he was only a foot away and Taehyung had spotted him before he’d figured out whether he wanted to be seen or not.
“Yoongi-hyung!” he said with a beam that was blinding. Today, he was wearing an olive green silk cardigan, black pants and a dark long sleeve underneath. There was another cashmere scarf wrapped around his neck, this one light grey nestled just under his jaw. Taehyung stood and, before Yoongi could even say hello, pulled Yoongi into a hug.
“You look nice,” Taehyung hummed into his ear.
Yoongi decided it wasn’t so bad, being seen by Taehyung. “Tae-Taehyung?”
“Oh,” Taehyung immediately pulled back, blinking sheepishly. “I was just, well, thinking about you a lot, this is embarrassing if you don’t remember me—"
“I remember you.” Yoongi paused. “I have your umbrella in my car.”
“Oh!” Taehyung said, blinking. “Right. Um, how about, after dinner?”
Yoongi tilted his head. “I thought you were asking for me because—”
“I’m hungry,” Taehyung said with a shrug. He glanced around the lobby. There was only one family of four waiting to be seated. When Taehyung looked back at Yoongi, he was smiling. “Could you put me in your section, possibly?”
Yoongi glanced around. “How many?”
“Rub it in, why don’t you,” Taehyung said with a groan. “As if my word vomit about my dinner for two being for one wasn’t enough indication of my lonely and single life.”
“There’s nothing wrong with being single,” Yoongi said, gesturing for Taehyung to follow him and ignoring Kyungsoo’s glare as they walked past his position. He led Taehyung to his section in the back corner of the restaurant. “Booth or table?”
“Oh, booth,” Taehyung sighed, collapsing into the cushioned benching with a huff and taking off his scarf with a flourish. He smiled at Yoongi. “That’s what people in relationships always say, you know.”
Yoongi chuckled, despite himself. “I’m not.”
Taehyung was far too coy for it to be accidental. “Not what?”
“In a relationship.”
“Oh.” Taehyung hummed, opening up the menu and perusing it thoughtfully. “Well, I guess we can be lonely together.”
“Is that how being lonely works?” Yoongi said, tapping on a wine he thought Taehyung might like, based off what he’d gotten on his first visit.
Taehyung’s eyes glinted. “If I’m lucky.”
“Stop,” Yoongi said, but he didn’t mean it all, and his voice gave it away.
Taehyung took an hour to decide on his meal and two more hours to finish it and leave, but on the final bill, Yoongi actually looked right past the ludicrous amount of zeros on the tip line to the ten-digit one across the bottom. Taehyung had drawn each number as though it were blooming from a field. It was a pretty good fucking drawing, actually.
Yoongi told himself that’s why he pocketed it.
“How was work?” Hoseok yelled from the kitchen as Yoongi walked into the apartment. “Kyungsoo still have a stick up his ass?”
“Um,” Yoongi responded, following the sound of Hoseok’s voice and what smelled like instant ramen being microwaved. “Try a full on tree trunk. Can you get one for me?”
Hoseok reached for the jumbo pack on the top of the fridge and tossed a ramen packet to Yoongi. “I told you not to sleep with people we work with.”
Yoongi walked over to the microwave with a sigh. “Right. Like I’d listen to you. How’s Park Jimin?”
Hoseok shot Yoongi a glare, sticking his chopsticks in the bowl and stirring around the noodles. “Flexible and trying to kill me.”
“Just ask him out and be done with it,” Yoongi said. “You’ve been talking about him for weeks.”
“I don’t date my students,” Hoseok groaned.
“It’s a dance class, at a gym, and you're like, a guide, not a teacher.”
“That's sort of rude, so fuck you." Hoseok shoved some of the ramen into his mouth. "Yoongi, he is so rich that I cry myself to sleep about it every night. I know we get crazy fucks at the restaurant too, but have I told you about his car?”
“A bridge I can never hope to cross.”
The receipt with Taehyung’s phone number crinkled in Yoongi’s pocket. “You’re depressing me.”
Some noodles plopped sadly into Hoseok’s soup. “If I hadn’t helped Jimin with a full straddle pancake today, I’d consider that my biggest accomplishment of the day.”
“I don’t wanna hear about your weird sex positions with your student.”
“He’s—youjustsaid—oh my god, fuck you.” Hoseok groaned. “I might—might consider it if he switches classes. But, I’m pretty sure he’s dating someone. Who is also gorgeous and rich. So so rich, Yoongi. How is life this unfair?”
With a steaming cup of noodles in hand, Yoongi sat down across from Hoseok. “How do you know he’s gorgeous?”
“I’ve seen him, he’s always dropping Jimin off or picking him up, and his car is even fucking nicer than Jimin’s, and uh,” Hoseok tapped on his phone. “I follow his Instagram. He and Jimin, are like, the sons of these, megarich motherf—”
“You follow him?” Yoongi scowled, reaching for the phone. “Give me that shit. That’s unhealthy.”
“There isn’t anything unhealthy about that guy’s face,” Hoseok said, unlocking his phone and pulling up the right app. He clicked a couple times, then spun the phone towards Yoongi. “Go ahead. Unfollow it.”
Yoongi looked down at the screen and promptly choked on his mouthful of hot ramen.
“Yoongi my phone!” Hoseok protested loudly, reaching over to grab his phone out of the line of fire. “I mean I get it but get a grip.”
Yoongi covered his mouth with his hand, hacking out the rest of what he’d just tried to swallow, glaring at Hoseok through watering eyes. Hoseok was looking down at his phone, wiping off the spittle with his sleeve and then flicking through the screens. He was already onto the next post.
“There’s this photo of him, Kim Taehyung and Jimin, it’s at least five months old because Jimin’s had blonde hair since I’ve known him, but, Yoongi, come on how could I ever compete?” Hoseok held the phone out to Yoongi, and Yoongi put his chopsticks back in the ramen cup and pushed it aside with a low sigh.
“You could at least pretend to not look like all hope is completely lost,” Hoseok said, then looked down at the phone and sighed too. “This is a power couple. Oh, great, and this one just went up two minutes ago.”
Yoongi was rubbing his temples when Hoseok shoved the phone under his nose and forced him to look at the picture Park Jimin had just posted.
“Baby,” Hoseok groaned.
Yoongi stopped rubbing his temples, stared down at the photo for a second, then looked up at Hoseok. “You seem awfully disappointed for someone who was harping on two seconds ago about not dating his students.”
Hoseok scowled. “You’re bitchier than normal. I told you—”
“No,” Yoongi said, then dug in his pockets and tossed the slightly crumpled receipt on the table. “It’s that. This. I know him. This guy came in to the restaurant today.”
Hoseok’s frown deepened, but he reached for the paper and brought it close to his eyes while Yoongi tried not to stare down at the Instagram photo. He subtly nudged Hoseok’s phone a few inches away.
“Holy shit is that—that’s his name here, Kim Taehyung, Yoongi, holy shit—”
The front door opened and Namjoon shouted his greeting.
“—is this his real phone number?”
“Yeah, in here!” Yoongi shouted back. “You worked la—Hoseok holy shit what the fuck are you doing?”
Hoseok violently kicked himself away from the table and out of Yoongi’s reach, then when Yoongi went to lunge over the surface anyway, jumped up and stretched his arm out to its full length, which was infuriatingly much too far for Yoongi to grab the phone in his hand.
It was still dialing. Yoongi scrambled to step onto his chair, but Hoseok jumped up on top of the table and nearly kicked Yoongi in the face in his efforts to keep him away. One of the ramen cups toppled over with a hot splash and Yoongi jumped back further.
“Look, we can get to the bottom of this right now,” Hoseok said, putting the phone on speaker as Namjoon came into the kitchen and froze in the doorway. “Namjoon, be quiet. Yoongi, ask him if he’s dating Jimin.”
“What?” Yoongi hissed. “Hoseok, you ask Jimin—”
“No fucking way.”
“Hang the fuck up right now or—"
The ringing abruptly stopped, there was a brief catch of static, and then a voice that was clearly Taehyung’s said, “Hello?”
Namjoon, still in the doorway with his bag hanging from his shoulder, looked from the phone to Yoongi. Yoongi was staring at the phone. His socks were damp from the spilt ramen.
“Uh, hello?” Taehyung said. Hoseok looked wildly from the phone to Yoongi. “I can’t quite hear you, is this a joke or—oh! Oh, is this—this isn't Yoongi-hyung, is it?”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi heard himself saying, then pressed a hand to his neck, as if that would take the words back. He looked down at his feet. It was ramen in his socks.
“I’m so glad you called, I’m sorry, I didn’t recognize the number, I’ll have to add y—”
“Oh, no, don’t do that,” Yoongi said, then clutched at his neck a little more.
“What?” Taehyung said.
“I mean this isn’t—my—don’t add this number. I’m, uh, I’m calling from—from a payphone,” he said.
“Oh, is that why your voice sounds all echoey?”
“Yup, um, yup, sorry, I just—”
“Aren’t you home yet?”
“Um, almost I just—”
“Couldn’t wait to call me? That’s cute,” Taehyung purred, and Yoongi flushed red all the way down to his toes, steadfastly ignoring Namjoon’s raised eyebrow and Hoseok’s wide-eyed look.
Hoseok out of nowhere began coughing loudly and dramatically, and Yoongi realized too late what he was doing when he abruptly stopped and grumbled out, in a very fucking poor imitation of Yoongi’s voice, “Are you dating Park Jimin?”
There was some shuffling on the other end of the line, like Taehyung was switching ears. “Am I—what? Are you okay, you sound funny? Is that the pay phone?”
Yoongi thanked the fucking cosmos that Taehyung probably had never used a payphone in his life and he could thus blame all problems on that fact.
“Yeah, sorry, it’s a bitch,” Yoongi said, throwing Hoseok the dirtiest look he could muster.
“Did you ask if I was dating Park Jimin?”
Almost all problems.
“Well, I was just—”
“You found my Instagram page! Did you like my pictures? You have to send me yours.”
“Jiminie and I aren’t dating, we’ve only had sex five and a half times and the last time was um, six months ago or something and he’s got a crush on his dance instructor anyway—”
Hoseok dropped his phone and it fell onto the table with a clunk.
“Shit!” Hoseok said, then slapped his hand over his mouth, scrambling onto his knees and picking the phone up from the soup puddle.
“Yoongi-hyung? Hello? Are you okay? I hope you’re not mad, um, shit, maybe I shouldn’t have been so—”
Yoongi grabbed the phone out of Hoseok’s hand and hung up.
Hoseok put his fingers to his mouth and stared down at the dark screen for a few moments. Two seconds later, it lit up with a text message.
“Holy shit,” Hoseok said.
“What the hell is going on?” Namjoon demanded from the doorway.
Yoongi pushed his fingers through his hair, tilting his head back and sighing up at the ceiling. “We’re kicking Hoseok out, that’s what.”
“Did you hear what he said about Jimin having a crush on—”
“Hoseok,” Yoongi said, snapping his head back down to glare at him. “I’m gonna fucking kill you. You better clean up this fucking shit fuck mess, fuck.”
Hoseok’s phone buzzed again. He looked back down at it, then hopped off the table with a grunt and held it out to Yoongi. “It’s him, he’s texting you. Or the payphone.”
Yoongi grabbed the phone out of Hoseok’s hand and looked down.
“What the fuck,” Yoongi whispered to himself, jerking the phone to his chest when Hoseok tried to take it back. “Wait, he might—”
“Then text him,” Hoseok said.
“Hello, I still don’t know what the fuck is happening,” Namjoon said, dropping his bag in the doorway.
“Uh,” Yoongi said, scratching his head. “So—uh—honestly, I don’t know.”
Hoseok let Yoongi keep his phone, hopping over the ramen puddles to grab a bunch of fast food napkins they had hoarded in lieu of paper towel rolls. “You know Jimin from my dance class?”
“The blonde guy with the baby blue Porsche?” Namjoon snorted, walking over to the fridge and digging through the drawers. “Yes. I remember him.”
“Well, I thought he was dating this other guy—”
“The lambo guy.”
“Yes, him, well, turns out that guy wants to date Yoongi.”
“Can I see?” Namjoon said, then plucked the phone out of Yoongi’s lax grip. Yoongi let him, idly moving a napkin around on the ground with his ramen-soaked sock.
Namjoon was quiet for a few moments, flipping through Hoseok’s phone. He looked up at them with a raised eyebrow.
“Are you telling me you two are crushing on Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin, as in Kim and Park from K&P Industries?”
Hoseok made a noise put his face in his hands and nodded, Yoongi literally felt the ball drop, knew Namjoon could see it click in his head when he handed the phone back to him.
Yoongi looked down. Namjoon had left the phone unlocked to Taehyung’s most recent Instagram post.
Of course he knew K&P. The company showed up every five chapters in half of his coursework at university, and being a business major, it was just—a company you had to know. Had to be dumb not to know. And Yoongi was—well he wasn’t going to call himself fucking dumb, there were lots of Kims and lots of Parks, and K&P was known mostly by the faces of Kim Jaekwang and Park Seohyun. The focus wasn’t ever really on their extended family.
Or their kids.
Yoongi remembered the financial figures he’d just been studying two weeks ago, remembered how K&P had been sitting in the top five, and felt a bit weak in the knees.
“Jesus,” he said. “This has to be a joke, right? Why would—he just wants to fuck, right?”
“Maybe,” Namjoon said. “I mean, he definitely wants to fuck you, based off my very recent and basic knowledge of the situation. But he seems genuine.”
Yoongi headed towards his room, pulling off his socks as he walked. “I’m going to bed.”
Before he left, he grabbed the receipt from the table.
Yoongi didn’t really like the idea of Taehyung continuing to text Hoseok’s phone and Hoseok being able to read those messages all because Yoongi had panicked and made up a stupid lie.
Which was a lot better than the truth; he was hoping to take that shit to his grave.
His teeth dug hard into his lip as he sent the text message.
Yoongi nearly dropped his phone when it buzzed loudly in his hands.
Taehyung is trying to FaceTime.
Taking a deep breath, Yoongi accepted the call.
“Yoongi-hyung, holy shit,” Taehyung said, swinging the cup in his hand around and going out of frame for a second, as though he were putting it down. He came back into focus and smiled warmly at Yoongi. “I’m so sorry to bother you.”
“I called you,” Yoongi said. “Aren’t you—out?”
Taehyung beamed. “Yeah, I’m out with Jimin, um, listen, about earlier—”
“You really,” Yoongi said, “don’t have to explain anything. “It was—it was dumb to call.”
Taehyung held the phone a little further away from his face. His hair was hanging in his eyes, and there was a faint glow to his cheeks, whether makeup or natural, Yoongi honestly wasn’t sure.
He was really beautiful regardless.
“I’m glad you called though,” Taehyung said. “I didn’t think it was dumb. I won’t keep you, but, um—can I text you?”
Even through the phone, his eyes were startlingly earnest, his voice deep and warm. Soothing.
Yoongi hoped Taehyung didn’t see him shiver.
He should say no. He could kind of hear it, a voice in the back of his head, no way, don’t you dare.
Taehyung bit his lip, still smiling. “When’s your next shift?”
“I—” Yoongi swallowed, fumbling his phone a little. He really hoped Taehyung hadn’t noticed that. “Tomorrow night.”
“Do you mind if I come see you?”
Yoongi exhaled. “I wouldn’t have told you when it was, if I minded.”
Taehyung released his lip, smiling a bit wider. “Just checking.” Taehyung brought the phone close to his face again. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, Yoongi-hyung. Ah, I said I wouldn’t keep you and here I am. I’ll text you?”
And with a final beaming look, the call disconnected.
His phone barely had a chance to go dark before a message was lighting up the screen.
Beet red, Yoongi put down his phone and thought, very firmly, fuck.
Two and a half hours into his shift the next night, when Yoongi was on his way back from delivering an entree to a table, Junmyeon stopped him. “Hey, there’s a—something for you out front. It’s—can you go get it out of the way?”
“What?” Yoongi said dumbly, but Junmyeon was already walking away.
Yoongi quickened his step as he neared the front, where he knew, fortunately, Hoseok was working the stand. Hoseok had actually been working at the restaurant longer than Yoongi, although his hours were now cut in half since he started doing classes at the gym downtown.
Yoongi stopped short when he spotted what was in front of the stand, in the center of the lobby.
A giant, stainless steel vase was sat on the gleaming floor, and it was so large, the vase alone was almost half as big as Yoongi. The dozens and dozens—and it was truly, dozen upon dozens of white roses stuffed into the vase were so tall, so numerous, they were level with the top of the host stand, and Yoongi could literally smell the floral fragrance the moment the flowers came into sight.
“What the fuck,” Yoongi said, looking from vase of white flowers to Hoseok, who was gaping.
“Um, there was—a letter, or—a note—” Hoseok shook his head, handing a folded piece of paper to him. Yoongi grabbed and it and opened it to read.
Some bullshit came up with my family
I’m going to text you to reschedule
(I’m so sorry I SWEAR this is not normal)
I don’t know if you’re a rose or even a flower person
But I thought these were fucking pretty
Kinda like you
Yoongi folded the paper, feeling a light blush dust his cheeks.
“So do we like this, or, not so much?” Hoseok said, crossing his arms.
Yoongi couldn’t look away from the vase. The few people waiting in the lobby were all looking too, not only at the roses, but at Yoongi, who was still holding the note and inching a little closer, just enough to touch the petals of the nearest flowers.
There was a warmth simmering in his veins at the eyes of everyone on him and the roses, and Yoongi couldn’t believe that something like this was for him, and better yet, that everyone knew it.
Shit, he was fucked, he was fucked.
“Like it, got it,” Hoseok said, and Yoongi rolled his eyes, hard enough for it to twinge.
But he didn’t deny it.
Taehyung came back to the restaurant on Yoongi’s next shift, announced by a perplexed Junmyeon while Yoongi was hiding out in the kitchen with Seokjin.
“Why is Kim Taehyung here to see you again?”
Yoongi looked up, and Seokjin gasped.
“That’s why that guy looked so familiar—the cute wet boy you were flirting with the other night, that was Kim Taehyung.” Seokjin smacked Yoongi across the shoulder. “Are you kidding!?”
“Ow!” Yoongi snapped, hopping away from him. “No I’m—I’m not—? Why are you saying his name like that?” Yoongi looked at Junmyeon. “Is he really here?”
“He’s very adamant about seeing you,” Junmyeon said, squinting. “So, you two are....”
He didn’t complete the statement, trailing off and looking at Yoongi hopefully as though he were going to finish it for him.
Yoongi didn’t, rolling his eyes and heading towards the door, ignoring Seokjin’s indignant squawk as he exited the kitchen without providing any clarification.
When he rounded the last corner before reaching the front room, he could see Taehyung was talking with Kyungsoo at the host stand, a serious look on his face. Kyungsoo was looking down at the computer screen, scowling as he spoke.
“—like you has better things to be doing than this, don’t you think?”
“Well, I guess if you’re just looking to have your fun and leave, Yoongi’s perfect for you.”
Weirdly, Taehyung smiled. “Oh. What did he do to you? I should have known he was a heartbreaker with a mouth like that.”
Kyungsoo looked up sharply, and Yoongi quickened his pace.
“A heart—he didn’t—”
“Or maybe you just weren’t fun enough for him to keep around,” Taehyung said airily. “I appreciate your concern, but I don’t know, I don’t think that’s going to be a problem for me.”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said, cutting off Kyungsoo and putting his hand on Taehyung’s arm without thinking.
Taehyung turned to him and his smile brightened. “Yoongi-hyung. Hi.”
“C’mon,” Yoongi said, shrugging at Kyungsoo’s furious look and leading Taehyung away. “Are you staying for dinner?”
Taehyung placed his hand on top of Yoongi’s, still wrapped around his arm. “Hm? Oh, not tonight. I wanted to see you though.”
Yoongi had never felt such a strange mix of disappointment and elation before. “You really pissed off Kyungsoo. Even I’ve never made him that mad.”
Taehyung tsked. “Is that the guy at the host stand? He’s not nearly as friendly as you.” Taehyung squinted. “What happened there?”
“Um, we fucked,” Yoongi said, ducking into section of restaurant with only a few patrons sitting around and pulling Taehyung over to an abandoned register in the corner. “And I didn’t want to fuck again. He’s pissy about it. I shouldn’t have done it.”
Taehyung tilted his head. “Why not?”
Yoongi lifted his hands. “I don’t know. I was drunk, and I don’t even like him like that, and we work together?”
Taehyung scoffed. “Well, he was talking bad about you and annoying me. Trying to convince me to not ask for you.”
“Well,” Yoongi said, looking up at him. “I’m here. For better or worse. You’ve been warned.”
Taehyung straightened. “Stop being cute, it’s distracting.”
Yoongi opened his mouth, but Taehyung continued quickly. “I wanted to apologize again. About Jimin? I bet you seeing our photos right after I was flirting with you was, um, confusing.”
“I mean,” Yoongi said slowly. “It’s…it’s okay. We’re not dating.”
“Well about that,” Taehyung said. He looked down at his feet for a second, then up, right into Yoongi’s eyes. “I want to take you out on a date, Yoongi-hyung.”
Yoongi stared at him.
“I’d like to sit across from you and you know,” Taehyung smiled, nodding at the restaurant around them. “Not have you be my waiter.”
“You don’t like the uniform?” Yoongi asked with a crooked smile.
The lighting was dim as was normal for the restaurant, but even so, Yoongi saw Taehyung’s eyes glint.
“I do,” he said, unhesitating. “I like it a lot, hyung. But I think I’m biased.”
Yoongi chewed on his lip, leaning against the wall a bit. Junmyeon would kill him if he saw, but his focus was elsewhere.
Like with the way Taehyung was looking at him.
“You barely know me,” Yoongi said. “I could be trying to—uh—” Yoongi paused. “What’s the word? Cat fish? Gold fish?”
Taehyung stared at him, then leaned forward, snorting his giggles into the back of his hand. “Are you trying to say gold dig?”
Taehyung’s eyes were warm. “Mhm. I think I’ll take my chances.”
“Based off what?”
Taehyung shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t need a laundry list of reasons to want to get to know you, hyung. You’re beautiful and nice, and make me laugh. Isn’t that enough reason to take you on a date?”
Yoongi ribbed his lips together. “You don’t just want to fuck?”
Taehyung hummed, leaning his head on the same wall Yoongi was resting against, bringing their faces a bit closer. “Do you just want to fuck?”
Yoongi’s felt his breath tickle over his lips as he exhaled, eyes flicking up and down Taehyung’s face. “I asked first.”
Taehyung grinned a little, eyes falling to Yoongi’s mouth. “I want to kiss you, honestly. Ever since I met you I’ve wanted to. I really like your mouth.”
Yoongi’s lips parted, and he tilted himself a bit closer, without thinking. His cheeks flushed when he felt Taehyung’s fingers circle his wrist gently.
“But I’d like to take you on a date first,” Taehyung whispered. “Although about halfway through, because I know I won’t really want to wait, I’ll kiss you. If you let me.” Taehyung’s eyes glittered. “Would you let me?”
Yoongi looked down at Taehyung’s lips, and slowly, he nodded.
“And maybe when the date’s over,” Taehyung said, his voice dropping in pitch so Yoongi had to lean even closer to hear. “I’ll take you home, and then I’ll fuck you.” Taehyung rubbed his thumb in a soft circle over Yoongi’s wrist. “If you’ll let me.”
Yoongi twisted his hand until he was able to slide his fingers in between Taehyung’s. “Taehyung…”
“And maybe if you like, I’ll fuck you again,” Taehyung’s smile was warm, confident, slow. “And if you’ll let me, baby—take you out on a second date.”
“You’re not slow start kind of guy, are you?”
“I’d like to take you on a date to start.” Taehyung glanced down at their intertwined fingers. “But you gotta say yes.” Taehyung didn’t look up. “You can say no, and I’ll stop bothering you.”
Yoongi waited for the voice in the back of his to tell him, no way, don't you dare.
He met Taehyung’s eyes, and it didn’t come.
Yoongi’s own voice was quiet, but his grip around Taehyung’s fingers was firm. “Okay. Take me on a date.”
Yoongi had thought there was a chance, considering the fact that Taehyung had told him he was going to kiss him mid-date, that he wouldn’t be worrying about when it was going to happen.
But then Taehyung knocked on the front door of his and Namjoon and Hoseok’s shitfuck apartment, and when Yoongi opened it he was standing there in jeans too perfectly fit to cost anything less than two semesters of Namjoon’s post-graduate classes, a would-be casual jacket pulled over a T-shirt that was suspiciously wrinkle free, all crisp and white. His lips were shiny and pink, and Yoongi thought, when is he going to—
That was the question, when is he going to? a tickling thought in the back of Yoongi’s head as he tried not to let his his gaze linger too heavily on Taehyung’s mouth.
When the doors of Taehyung’s Lamborghini opened vertically, when the place where he was taking him for dinner ended up being on the rooftop of a sky scraper, when the wind blew Taehyung’s hair across and then away from his forehead, Yoongi could hear it, faint, but insistent, when is he going to?
The waiter whisked away with their order, and Yoongi tried to focus. Taehyung was swirling the wine around, somehow managing to look cute and not obnoxious, putting the glass close to his face and watching the legs of wine drip down along the curved bowl.
“Do you take all your first dates here?” Yoongi asked.
Taehyung peeked at him over the rim of the wine glass. “I don’t usually date.”
Yoongi paused. “What’s different?”
Taehyung took a sip before gently placing the glass down. “You.”
Yoongi smiled a little wryly, rubbing his hand over one arm as another breeze whistled past. “You just think I’m pretty.”
Taehyung leaned forward and began to pull off his jacket. “I honestly think you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” He stood, waving a hand to ward off a waiter who had jumped to attention at his movement before draping his jacket over Yoongi’s shoulders. “Don’t hold it against me.”
Taehyung’s jacket was warm, and the fragrance that tickled Yoongi’s nose was sharp and floral. Seated as Yoongi was, the ends of the jacket rested past his mid thigh.
Taehyung went back to his chair and looked at Yoongi expectantly.
“I guess I’m just not sure what you’re getting out of this.”
Taehyung smiled, slightly teasing. “You, baby. If I’m very lucky.”
Yoongi choked, pressing the back of his and immediately to his mouth and muffling the sound. Taehyung’s grin widened.
“Call me whatever you want,” Yoongi finished. “I know it’s—that’s—” He took a deep breath, and Taehyung promptly cut him off.
“That is, if you’re okay with that,” Taehyung said.
Yoongi released his breath. “You know I’m poor as fuck, right?”
Taehyung traced the rim of his wine glass with one finger. One eyebrow raised. “You know I’m rich as fuck, right?”
Yoongi glowered. "So?”
Taehyung laughed. “Exactly.”
As it turned out, Yoongi was the one to kiss Taehyung.
They had made it to dessert, and Taehyung was kind of murmuring in excitement as he brought a bite of chocolate towards his mouth and closed his lips around it.
Yoongi couldn’t limit it to just one thing that prompted him to lean forward. There was a lot of good things. The bit of the chocolate smeared on Taehyung’s lower lip, the way the wind was rustling his hair, the stupid fucking jewel encrusted tiger ring on Taehyung’s finger, glinting in the dim glow of the lantern between them. How well the night was fucking going.
Taehyung seemed—what was the word Namjoon had used—genuine. He asked Yoongi questions, was eager for what Yoongi had to respond, and Yoongi wasn’t used to someone staring at him with such unabashed interest. Especially not someone like Taehyung. Taehyung, who only had to straighten and look around for the waiter before they appeared at the side of their table, who spilled a bit of wine on his designer white T-shirt and shrugged with a smile, who looked down at the menu and cheerfully suggested they get four side orders of lobster because why not.
Who spoke to Yoongi with such a warm fondness that Yoongi forgot to ask himself why does he like me? and instead found himself thinking he likes me.
But Taehyung still hadn’t kissed him, and Yoongi was getting impatient.
There was the chocolate, still smeared along the pink of his lower lip. Taehyung had barely finished swallowing before Yoongi was surging across the small table. His fingers brushed under Taehyung’s jaw, so lightly, barely even touching, but Taehyung let himself by guided by it, tilting his head up in Yoongi’s hands so each of them only had to shift forward an inch further before they were kissing.
Yoongi nearly knocked over the lantern in between them, had to angle himself so he didn’t get his elbow in the chocolate cake, but the way Taehyung’s mouth felt against his made all of that insignificant.
There wasn’t a moment of hesitation from Taehyung, just a soft flutter of breath as he hummed “oh?” before he was fully kissing Yoongi back, lips soft, tongue teasing.
Yoongi didn’t remember closing his eyes, but when Taehyung pulled away just enough to stop their kiss, he ended up having to open them.
Taehyung grinned, leaning forward in his chair. “That was bold, hyung. Everyone is staring.”
“You took too long,” Yoongi replied. “And if you cared about people staring, you wouldn’t have picked me up in that car.”
Taehyung’s eyes glinted. “I want to kiss you again. But they’re gonna watch.”
“Let them,” Yoongi said in a rough voice, and although he beat Taehyung to the next kiss as well, Taehyung was the one to hook his finger in the collar of Yoongi’s shirt and tug, gently urging him to lean across the table a little more and bring them closer.
They didn’t make it back to Yoongi or Taehyung’s apartment.
It was fucking ridiculous, and Yoongi felt like a fucking teenager, but they didn’t even make it out of the parking garage.
They were on one of the nicer levels, one that cost extra get into, closer to the ground level and with more widely spaced parking spots. Despite that, they were nearly all full.
Taehyung held Yoongi’s hand as they walked back to his car, fingers fitting comfortably against Yoongi’s, even with the various rings he had on. He swung their hands a bit as they walked, sneaking a couple kisses to Yoongi’s neck that Yoongi didn’t even bother pretending he didn’t enjoy.
He was very grateful to see the bright red paint of the Lambo, doors already rising in response to the button Taehyung clicked.
They were quick to duck inside and pull the doors shut, and Taehyung hadn’t even switched on the engine before Yoongi was sliding over the console, straddling Taehyung’s lap, and kissing him hotly.
“I’m so—” Taehyung said against Yoongi’s mouth, giving up when Yoongi didn’t stop kissing him, shoving his hands through Yoongi’s hair and tilting his head for him.
Yoongi rocked his hips heavily in Taehyung’s lap, knee knocking against the side door. Taehyung broke away from him with a gasp, scrambling to tilt the chair back as far as it would go.
“Fuck,” Yoongi whispered, already working at the button of his jeans. “Fuck me, fuck.”
Taehyung tried to help, then seemed to get distracted by the expanse of Yoongi’s neck. As Yoongi struggled to push both his jeans and underwear down over his hips, Taehyung pressed kisses up and down his neck, flicking his tongue and sucking little red marks into the skin. When Yoongi got his jeans and underwear half hanging off one leg, he thought that was good enough.
He belatedly realized how quickly he'd gotten out of his pants, then saw the way Taehyung was looking him up and down, lips slightly parted and eyes focused, and didn’t care.
Yoongi bent forward. “Do you have lube?”
Taehyung nodded, because of course he did, thank god he did. He reached right in the driver’s side door of his fucking Lamborghini and came back with a bottle of lube, which he was quick to squeeze out onto his fingers.
“If you’re too loud,” Taehyung said, something like excitement brewing in his voice, “anyone on this level will hear you. Maybe even a couple up.”
He didn’t, Yoongi noticed, tell him not to be loud.
And Yoongi didn’t offer.
“Come on,” Yoongi hissed. “Fuck me.”
“Oh my god, hyung,” Taehyung groaned, reaching up with his clean hand and pulling Yoongi down by the neck to kiss him.
Taehyung didn’t tease very much, which Yoongi absolutely adored. He fingered Yoongi open just as they were, with the driver’s seat tilted back and Yoongi sat right in his lap, the lights of the parking garage fluorescent in the background. Taehyung’s hand stayed on Yoongi’s neck and he kissed him as he worked his finger in and out, then a second, in and out, Yoongi’s noises getting muffled around Taehyung’s tongue.
“Oh my god,” Taehyung whispered again, briefly pressing his cheek against Yoongi’s and rolling his hips up. He nudged two fingers back in, circling, teasing a third around the rim. “Fuck, baby. You’re—"
“Fuck,” Yoongi choked, and then the sound of a car door slamming close by had him jolting against Taehyung.
“Hyung,” Taehyung murmured, pushing in the tip of the third finger. Yoongi bit down on his lip. “You sound pretty.”
Yoongi buried his face against Taehyung’s neck, rolling his hips back against Taehyung’s fingers as he moaned.
“So beautiful,” Taehyung said against Yoongi’s head. He slid his hand down Yoongi’s body until he was holding his hip. “God.”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi whispered, hearing voices heading their way, lots of laughter and shouting. “Fuck—"
“Tell me to stop and I will,” Taehyung said against his temple. His fingers stilled inside Yoongi, and Yoongi shook his head, gasping against Taehyung’s neck.
Taehyung went to pull out, but Yoongi jolted, reaching back to grasp Taehyung’s wrist and keep it in place.
“I told you to fuck me,” he whispered.
Taehyung leaned back to look at him, eyes flickering over Yoongi’s shoulder to peek at the group that was now walking right by the car.
Taehyung looked back at Yoongi and crooked his fingers.
“Fu—” Yoongi pressed his mouth back against Taehyung’s, groaning into him and wiggling his hips back and forth in his lap.
“Wow,” Taehyung said. The voices outside were louder than ever, but no one was gasping or freaking out, so it didn’t seem like they’d noticed. The windows, already tinted, were actually starting to fog up.
But they could still hear very clearly.
Taehyung scissored his fingers and in Yoongi’s struggle to swallow his moan, Yoongi whimpered, a high-pitched noise that somehow seemed even louder than a normal moan would’ve been.
Taehyung’s response was a growl. “Fuck, hyung. You like that? You want people to hear?” He fucked his fingers in hard. “Want them to see?”
“Want you to fuck me,” Yoongi said, his voice breaking at the end when Taehyung fucked his fingers back into Yoongi and kissed under his jaw. “Want you to fuck me in this obnoxious fucking car—”
The way Taehyung chuckled against Yoongi’s neck, low and husky, had Yoongi’s blood burning hot. He lifted himself a little, just enough so that when he unbuttoned Taehyung’s jeans he was able to tug them open and down far enough to reveal the tight-fit black cloth of Taehyung’s boxers. In the background, the group of voices slowly faded.
Yoongi pressed his palm down against the swell of Taehyung’s cock, eyes flickering over the name in small white font across the band.
“How much did you spend on these boxers?” Yoongi asked.
Taehyung pressed Yoongi’s fingers against the waistband, urging him to tug them down over his cock. “They’re Saint Laurent. Guess.”
“Fuck you,” Yoongi laughed, pulling them down and scraping his teeth slowly over his bottom lip as Taehyung’s cock was exposed. “Fuck me.”
Breath trembling on his next exhale, Yoongi dragged a finger up the line of Taehyung’s dick before he reached for the back pocket of his jeans, still hanging from his left leg, to tug out his wallet. Taehyung watched him quietly, fingers still working inside of him, but teasing now, shallow dips in and out that had Yoongi fumbling as he sifted for the condom wrapper. He tossed his wallet somewhere on the passenger side and held the foil square up between two fingers in front of Taehyung’s face.
“I might be in love with you,” Taehyung whispered, sounding awed.
Yoongi snorted, twisting enough to put on the condom, biting on the inside of his lip as he turned back to face Taehyung, who had both his hands in Yoongi’s hips now, gaze heavier than ever on Yoongi’s face
“What,” Yoongi whispered. Around the corner, an engine rumbled, and Yoongi shivered visibly when the headlights rounded the corner and briefly flashed through the back window of their car.
“You,” Taehyung said back.
“Fuck,” Yoongi muttered as he adjusted his hips, grabbing the lube and spreading more on his fingers, dipping those back over his entrance and slathering more over Taehyung’s cock. “Gonna get—fucking lube all over this—fucking Lamborghini—”
Taehyung laughed outright, surging up to kiss Yoongi and giggle into his mouth, “it’s nothing, baby.”
Yoongi nipped on Taehyung’s lip before swiveling his hips back, the tip of Taehyung’s cock brushing up over his sensitive skin. Taehyung made a noise, lifting one hand temporarily off Yoongi’s hip to guide himself. Then the head was pushing against Yoongi’s rim and—
“Ohshit,” Yoongi moaned as Taehyung rolled his hips up, shifting himself inside over halfway in one quick motion. “Taehyung, fuck.”
“Hah,” Taehyung gritted, heading falling back against the headrest, neck arching as Yoongi pushed onto him a little more. “Hyung.”
Yoongi’s head fell back as he sank down the rest of the way, a searing warmth pulsing through his body when another beam of headlights flashed across the car’s interior.
“Oh, god yes,” Taehyung laughed as Yoongi scrambled for purchase on the driver’s window, the other hand coming down on Taehyung’s chest.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi whispered. He leaned down to kiss him, his breath shivering between their mouths as Taehyung smoothed his hands over Yoongi’s back and began to roll his hips up, in a burning, slowly building rhythm.
“Oh fuck,” Taehyung hissed, nails scratching into Yoongi’s skin as he squeezed him. “You’re so fucking tight. Yoongi-hyung—”
There was another engine purring, slow and steady, and instead of rushing by the car like the others had, this one drove by at a snail’s pace before swinging into a parking spot a couple cars away.
Yoongi turned his head to look, feeling his cheeks flush warm when the engine cut off. Then Taehyung snapped his hips up and Yoongi’s shout was far, far too loud for the echoing quiet of their surroundings.
“Fuck,” Yoongi hissed, bowing forward and biting at Taehyung’s lower lip again. Taehyung grinned through it, even as he nipped right back, flicking his tongue over the tender skin, then into Yoongi’s mouth.
“They’d be lucky to hear you,” Taehyung said against him. “I’m lucky to hear you. Can you be a little louder, baby?”
“Ah,” Yoongi moaned when Taehyung’s tightened his grip on his hips, holding him steady as he guided Yoongi’s movements in his lap. A few feet away, the car door slammed shut. Yoongi’s breath stuttered.
“Hyung,” Taehyung murmured, and Yoongi had barely turned back to Taehyung before he had a mouthful of his tongue and Taehyung was fucking up into him without hesitation. Yoongi could hear the steps of the person from the just parked car getting louder as they walked close by the Lamborghini. He could feel his voice swelling in his throat, wanted to just open his mouth and let it come gasping out.
“Fuck, you’re tight,” Taehyung said, his own voice rough in Yoongi’s ear, and when Yoongi choked out a moan, although it was low, there was no way it wasn’t heard with how close the stranger was. The footsteps quickened, and Taehyung giggled into Yoongi’s mouth. “Oh, I love that.”
“Fuck,” Yoongi groaned, even more loudly. His blood felt like it was singeing his cheeks, even more so when Taehyung chuckled against his skin again.
“That’s right, gorgeous, that’s right, what a good—” and then the palm of his hand landed flat on Yoongi’s ass, “—tight little ass—”
Yoongi’s hand slid with a squeak down the window, fogged with their breath, but Taehyung moved quick to keep him from losing his balance. His eyes were bright and alert on Yoongi’s face. “Sorry, I should have—” Taehyung gasped. He was trying to still Yoongi, but Yoongi shook his head violently, wriggling against Taehyung’s hands and fucking himself back on his cock.
Taehyung’s eyelashes fluttered, eyes not opening as wide as before, leaving them heavy lidded and glittering under feathery black strands.
“Come here,” Taehyung whispered fiercely, pulling Yoongi down to him.
They kissed open mouthed, wet, and sloppy, Yoongi moaning into Taehyung’s mouth, then again louder when Taehyung smacked him again.
“Fuck, again,” Yoongi whined. “Motherfucking—Taehyung—”
“I know, I know—” Taehyung muttered, clamping down on his lower lip, then surging up to do the same to Yoongi’s, tugging and sucking and licking as he fucked into him faster and harder. “Oh—hyung—god, are you real, are you really here?”
“What the fuck,” Yoongi laughed a little wildly, kissing at Taehyung’s teeth and gasping when Taehyung’s cock brushed something deep inside him. “I’m here, but th-there, there—”
“I wanna—fuck you properly, holy shit, hyung—s’so fucking cramped in here—wanna bend you over the hood—”
Something jumped inside Yoongi, something hot and heavy and needy, and that was when Taehyung curled a hand around his as of yet untouched cock and pumped.
“I’m—I’m gonna—make a mess—” Yoongi groaned, struggling to talk clearly so close to Taehyung’s mouth but not wanting to stop kissing him.
“You're gonna make a mess for me?” Taehyung grinned.
“Not like—” Yoongi gasped, throwing his head back and swallowing thickly when Taehyung latched his lips onto his neck, rocked his hips up strong and quick. “—that, I mean—might get on the car—”
“Fuck the car.”
Yoongi had never been more turned on in his life, but then again, he’d never been with someone like Taehyung before.
And not in the sense that he was rich as all flying fuck.
It was him.
The low pitch of his voice, the way his lips curved when he smiled, how every expression touched his eyes, made them gleam, glitter, glow. The way he’d not batted an eyelash at the shit state of Yoongi’s home, how he’d put his jacket over Yoongi’s shoulders without a second thought. His single-minded, unabashed way of doing everything.
The way he was looking at Yoongi right now.
“Tae—” Yoongi said, scrambling at Taehyung’s wrist and trying to slow his movement. “Tae—”
“Don’t hold back, don’t—” Taehyung said, gently nudging Yoongi’s hand away and pumping him faster. “Hyung.”
Yoongi was moving his hips in tandem with Taehyung’s, rolling back each time Taehyung fucked up, and there was a muted slapping sound every other time their skin came together. They moved so violently against each other that Yoongi could feel the steering wheel bump his back every so often, feel the way the car was subtly shifting. Fuck, if someone walked by now, there was no way they’d be able to get away with it, or stop—
And Yoongi didn’t want to stop. And he wouldn't.
“Fuck,” Yoongi whispered, hips jerking and breath hitching. His gut curled, his cock pulsed, and then he was coming without warning, spurting all over Taehyung’s fist, cum landing on the white of his shirt, even some up by his neck.
Yoongi moan was loud, his body locking up as he orgasmed, clenching around Taehyung, still thrusting, and continuing even when Yoongi melted against Taehyung once it passed. And still, Taehyung fucked him roughly through it, muttering low praises in his ear (good boy, good boy hyung, coming so messy all over me)
Their mouths were still close, open and panting against each other. Taehyung flicked his tongue over the bow of Yoongi’s lip, eyes flashing when Yoongi whispered, “don’t stop, Tae.”
“Yoongi,” Taehyung whispered. He kissed Yoongi so hard their teeth clacked, but Yoongi didn’t care, opened his mouth wider for Taehyung, feeling a low moan building and pushing out of his throat as Taehyung rucked Yoongi’s hips back, rolling his hips hard and fucking into Yoongi without restraint.
“I’m so lucky,” Taehyung whispered. “Getting to see you—like this—”
“Taehyung—” Yoongi moaned. “Fuck me—fuck—”
Taehyung’s eyes darkened, his grip tightened, he did what Yoongi asked, fucked up into him hard enough to push another cry out of Yoongi. He felt boneless, fucked out, and sensitive, and Taehyung was holding onto him with one hand now, keeping the other, still soaked in cum, held away from Yoongi so as not to get it on his clothes.
It was this simple move, that Taehyung was even thoughtful while he fucked the brains out of Yoongi that prompted Yoongi to move, a new fire surging in his veins. He pushed himself into more of a sitting position, grabbing Taehyung’s filthy hand as he did and bringing it to his mouth.
“Yoongi—” Taehyung gasped as Yoongi swiped his tongue up two fingers. He sucked the tips into his mouth, popped them back out, and fucked himself down onto Taehyung’s cock, bounced up, then down again.
“Fuck,” Taehyung grit, gripping Yoongi by the chin with a couple fingers and pushing the rest into his mouth. “Fuck, you filthy—fucking—”
“Filthy what,” Yoongi whispered around Taehyung’s fingers, voice hoarse and shaking. Sweat rolled down the back of his neck and he felt so full. “What about cumslut, hm? D'you like that, Taehyung?”
Taehyung cursed again, hips fucking up once, twice, three more times, and then he was sighing loud and rough, pulling his hand out of Yoongi’s mouth to hold his hip again and keep Yoongi in place as he fucked himself through his own orgasm, laughing breathlessly when Yoongi collapsed on top of him again.
For what felt like ages, but was probably only a minute or two, they laid there; Taehyung with his pants barely pushed past his ass, Yoongi with his still hanging off one leg. The air in the car was muggy, and smelled like sex, but Taehyung had his arms around Yoongi waist and was tracing patterns on the small of his back as he pressed gentle kisses across Yoongi’s neck.
“I want to take you out again,” Taehyung said.
Taehyung shifted, hugging Yoongi close with one arm as he reached forward with the other to start the car. “You want to, for real?”
Yoongi laughed, kissing Taehyung by the corner of his mouth and hiding his blush by tumbling gracelessly back to the passenger seat and shimmying his way back into his jeans. “Why wouldn’t I?”
Taehyung beamed. “So you had fun tonight?”
Yoongi leaned back against the car seat, looked at Taehyung, and nodded with a small smile.
“I did too,” Taehyung breathed, leaning over and kissing Yoongi fully on the mouth. He pulled back, then did it again.
“I like when you call me that—”
“Cute, but your dick is still out and the condom’s still on.”
“Oh,” Taehyung said, collapsing back into his seat. He grinned, pulling it off and gratefully accepting the condom wrapper Yoongi had ripped open. He shoved in the used condom and tossed it behind him, then wiped what was left of the dried cum off with his shirt.
“I’ll get it all cleaned tomorrow,” Taehyung said defensively at Yoongi’s unimpressed look, arching off the seat for a second as he pulled on his pants properly. His expression shifted into something hopeful. “You want me to take you home?”
Yoongi reached over and took Taehyung’s hand. “So soon?
Yoongi had never been river rafting, but he imagined the experience was quite similar to falling in love with Kim Taehyung.
It started steady.
Steady, but not slow.
Slow was the wrong word.
A better word was—sure. With purpose.
Yoongi wasn’t positive what number date it was when Taehyung picked Yoongi up and, just as he was locking the front door to his apartment, held out a delicate silver necklace worth more ten years of Yoongi’s current rent.
“Are these diamonds? On the links?” Yoongi croaked, leaning back against his the door with the chain hanging from his fingers.
“Do you not like diamonds?” Taehyung asked, sounding worried.
“Taehyung, I don’t think—”
“You said I could get you gifts.”
“I thought you meant things like—like flowers. Like, like the roses.”
Taehyung frowned. “You don’t like it.”
That wasn’t it. Yoongi thought the necklace was fucking incredible, had mentioned in passing to Taehyung a few dates prior that he’d liked silver and his nicest necklace had broken at the clasp a year prior and he hadn’t gone in to fix it yet—
But this was more than he’d ever imagined having even in his wildest dreams.
Similar to Taehyung himself.
He felt a pleasant warmth bubble in his veins as he let the chain sift through his fingers.
“I like it,” Yoongi said. He reached out, cupped the side of Taehyung’s face with his free hand, an action that was almost instinctive already. “But Taehyung, this is worth more than—” Yoongi laughed. “More than me. Literally, if I died, you’d get more for this necklace than me.”
Taehyung looked down at the necklace, up at Yoongi, then back down again, his forehead wrinkled, as if he couldn’t make sense of what Yoongi had just said.
“That doesn’t sound right.”
“It is,” Yoongi said again, breathing out another laugh.
“Not to me,” Taehyung said fiercely. “Sorry it was—Jimin said I should get you a carnation—”
“Jimin can suck Hoseok’s dick.” Yoongi swallowed, feeling blood spread in his cheeks. “Shit. Put it on.”
Taehyung looked at the necklace as Yoongi held it out, then back at Yoongi. He smiled slowly before taking it from his hands, leaning forward as he looped it around Yoongi’s neck. “Don’t tell Hoseok, ‘cause then Jimin will probably find out I told you, but—”
“He already got his dick sucked. I heard.”
Taehyung chuckled, sneaking a kiss to Yoongi’s jaw as he clasped the necklace in place. “Scandalous. He’s Jimin’s teacher.”
“Instructor. It’s a class in a gym.”
“Let me have the scandal.” Taehyung leaned back, trailing a finger down the chain, smile deepening. “It looks good.” Taehyung’s brow creased. “You deserve a lot more than this, you know.”
Yoongi nudged Taehyung. “I have you, don’t I?”
Getting Taehyung to look down at his feet and blush was becoming one of Yoongi’s favorite things.
And the river was always moving forward.
There was the door slamming open and then Jimin’s voice carrying clearly even through the expanse of the penthouse, “When will I get to sit on Hoseokie-hyung’s motherfucking dick!”
“I’m here, you know?!” Yoongi shouted.
“You invited him?” Yoongi gasped to Taehyung over his shoulder.
Taehyung, face in Yoongi’s ass, barely looked at him. “Mm—m’almost done—”
“Tae—” Yoongi hissed, muffling a moan when Taehyung reached around and began to jerk him off.
“We’ve got 60 seconds, c’mon babe,” Taehyung said against his rim before licking inside.
Yoongi had already been close, had felt the familiar curl in his gut begin before Jimin had burst into the apartment. Yoongi could hear shuffling from the other end, surely Jimin putting his shit down and making his way to the living room where they were. There was a movie Yoongi couldn’t name playing on the television.
They hadn’t really been paying attention.
“Fuck,” Yoongi said into the cushions, hips thrusting forward and then he was coming right on the couch, Taehyung’s growling into his ass and gripping onto one thigh to keep him close. Yoongi’s head whirled from the sudden rush.
“Thank you,” Taehyung hummed after a moment, kissing Yoongi’s back before reaching to grab a tissue from the coffee table and patting Yoongi’s twitching dick down. When he was done, he tossed the tissue where the rest of Yoongi’s orgasm was, then put a pillow over it.
“The cleaning crew comes tomorrow!” Taehyung said in response to Yoongi’s glare.
“We’re picking up that tissue —”
“Don’t put on your clothes for me, assholes,” Jimin said as he entered the room, and Yoongi scrambled to yank on his boxers the rest of the way, right before Taehyung fell on top of Yoongi with a contented sigh.
He was hard, and pressing right up against Yoongi’s backside. Yoongi squirmed, still trying to catch his breath, Taehyung’s weight doing nothing to help.
Jimin dropped with a huff into the armchair a few feet away from the couch.
“What’s wrong, Jiminie?” Taehyung said, giggling when Yoongi gave up trying to shift Taehyung off and simply collapsed onto his front.
Jimin shot them a peevish look. “You guys are disgusting.”
Taehyung sounded smug. “You’re the one that asked if you could watch las—”
“Shut up,” Yoongi groaned.
“You fucking liked it,” Jimin shot at him. “Nasty. Anyway. Answer my fucking question?”
Yoongi tried to move out from under Taehyung, only so he could breathe. “I’m not answering that. It’s not a real question.”
Taehyung shifted onto his side, pulling Yoongi flush against his front. “He’ll let you sit on his dick when you stop taking his dance class.”
Yoongi waved in agreement.
Jimin rolled his eyes. “God. That’s so annoying.”
“Just go to a different one,” Yoongi said, unsympathetic. “You already sucked his dick and he nearly fucking quit afterwards. Get out of his class and then fuck his brains out.”
“He’s the best teacher who teaches when I’m available,” Jimin whined. “And he’s so hot. Oh my god, I wanna die.” He sighed, slouching further into the chair. “Just a little bit longer. I’ll just keep pretending I need help with my splits.”
“You’re evil,” Yoongi said, and Jimin grinned at him.
“Hey,” he said, straightening. “Yoongi-hyung, how’s your internship going?”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi said. “I wish it was fucking paid, and I’m working doubles at the restaurant, but it’s fine.”
“You know you could just sell that monster on your wrist and you’d be set, right?” Jimin said, nodding at the Rolex on Yoongi’s arm.
Yoongi resisted the urge to press his hand against his chest. “I’m not selling this.”
“Because Taehyung got it for you,” Jimin sing-songed.
“Shut up, yeah?” Yoongi said. He showed Jimin his middle finger, and Taehyung, sounding amused, tutted into Yoongi’s neck. “Why are you asking about the internship?”
Jimin showed his right back. “Because. I was just at a meeting at K&P, and they’re gonna be hiring for internal positions in the next few months, and they’re looking at someone who meets your qualifications, and if you can get a recommendation from your internship then I can get you a fucking interview.” Jimin put down his middle finger. “Dick.”
Yoongi blinked. “I—K&P never does outside hires for corporate positions, it’s always internal.” Yoongi shook his head. “And I already told Taehyung that—”
“That you’re ‘not gonna let your connections with his family give you an unfair advantage’, blah blah blah, whatever, hyung—look, I can get you a fucking interview. It’s gonna be hard and you might not get the job. Probably won’t.” Jimin pointed at Yoongi. “But I can get you an interview, if you can get a good recommendation.” Jimin shot Taehyung a sweet smile. “It’d be in the Park building, Kim.”
Taehyung grumbled, but squeezed Yoongi around the middle. “Hyung. Can you get a recommendation?”
Yoongi’s reply was slow, well-thought out. “Yeah…”
Taehyung nosed into the back of his neck. “Do it.”
“Maybe,” Yoongi said, feeling his stomach flip. He looked at Jimin. “Can you get me more details on the job?”
“You’re gonna want it. You already do,” Jimin said. He stood. “But yes. I will. I’m gonna go to my bedroom,” he said, referring to the spare bedroom in the apartment that he had claimed as his own. “I’m gonna shower and shit, so like, take the time to fuck so I don’t have to watch Tae dry hump you all night.”
Taehyung stopped shifting and Yoongi glared at Jimin’s retreating back until he couldn’t anymore.
He bit back his gasp when Taehyung began to bite and suck on his neck, then didn’t bother when Taehyung pushed his hands down the back of Yoongi’s boxers, teasing at his entrance.
“Can you get the lube?” Taehyung said into Yoongi’s ear.
Yoongi was already reaching for it, somewhere on the floor near the couch, and he nodded, finding it and practically tossing it at Taehyung.
“Um, I’m so glad we don’t have to fuck with condoms anymore,” Taehyung muttered, wetting his fingers with lube and pushing two into Yoongi firmly. Yoongi tilted his head back, and Taehyung put his lips at his neck again. “Hyung?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi gasped.
“Will you please let Jimin help you get an interview?”
Yoongi laughed, pushing his boxers down to make it easier for Taehyung to fuck his fingers into him. “You’re asking me that—two fingers deep—s’not fair—”
Taehyung bit his ear. “This is very fair. Want me to show you not fair?”
Yoongi shivered. “Fuck. I’ll—I’ll get the recommendation.”
Taehyung kissed beneath his ear. “You really will?”
“Yeah. Still want you to fuck me.”
Taehyung laughed. “Fuck, hyung. I…”
He didn’t finish.
He didn’t have to.
When the rapids come, a rush of adrenaline, the water splashing and raft rocking and the fear of tipping over or crashing into rock.
“Your mother fucking hates me.”
Taehyung was watching Yoongi struggle with the tie in front of the floor to ceiling mirror in his closet. The cloth was like satin under his fingers, and it slipped under his skin and made it impossible to get a proper grip, get that perfect triangular knot.
Taehyung knew better than try and help him. Not yet, at least.
“What’d she say to you?”
Yoongi jerked at the tie. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Taehyung’s eyes were keen. “I know you’re lying, baby.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes, jerking the tie apart and starting over with a purse to his lips. “She hates that you’re fucking me and not Jimin.”
Taehyung shook his head, and Yoongi shifted his attention back to his own reflection in the mirror rather than Taehyung’s, who was lounging on the bench seat on the closet’s interior, slouched back against the wall. He was nearly ready, a palette of something glittering and silver held loosely in his palm, his finger tips glistening with the powder.
“She’s shallow,” Taehyung said plainly. “But she can go wipe her tears with her Balmain.”
“It’s like,” Yoongi muttered, pulling the satin through the loop, “if you’re not gonna ‘produce an heir’, you could at least fuck a guy with money.”
“Hyung,” Taehyung protested, frowning. He closed the highlighter palette and let it drop on the seat next to him. “I don’t see it like that. Isn’t that what matters?”
Yoongi let his hands drop from the tie, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. “Yeah.”
There was the sound of fabric rustling, and then, warm hands on his neck, trailing down the satin fabric over his chest. “Can I?”
Yoongi sighed. “Please.”
He opened his eyes slowly, taking in the way Taehyung lightly chewed on his lower lip as he undid Yoongi’s tie and started from the beginning, flipping and looping the material with practiced ease. When he slipped the knot up to the collar of Yoongi’s neck, his eyes flickered up to his face.
“You’re so gorgeous,” Taehyung murmured, and with smile tugging at the corner of his mouth, he tugged Yoongi closer and pressed their lips together, keeping him close with his fingers still twisted around Yoongi’s tie.
“You’re perfect,” Yoongi muttered, raising his chin and kissing Taehyung again. Taehyung hummed, tugging him closer, one hand still on his tie, the other on his hip.
There was a sharp knock on the door. Taehyung turned his head just enough to say, “yeah!” before turning back to Yoongi and kissing him again.
“Tae—” Yoongi said just as the door opened and Taehyung’s bodyguard poked his head through.
Taehyung grinned, scraping his teeth over Yoongi’s jaw before turning to the doorway. “Jungkook, you only have to call me sir when my parents are around. You can come in, you know.”
Jungkook opened the door a little wider, and Taehyung nosed up Yoongi’s neck. Yoongi swallowed a shiver, his grip on Taehyung’s shirt tightening.
“Sir—Taehyung—we should go in about five minutes, if we’re going to make it on time.”
Taehyung huffed. “We’ll leave in ten.”
“We still have to pick up Jimin and Hoseok,” Yoongi said, proud of how steady his voice sounded with Taehyung kissing up and down his neck.
“Ten,” Taehyung said. He lifted his head from Yoongi and offered Jungkook a sweet smile. “Okay, Jungkook?”
Jungkook bowed and nodded, then bowed again.
“Jungkook—” Yoongi said, then broke off when Taehyung bit down on the skin just under his jaw, sucking a sliver into his mouth. “Ah.”
Jungkook looked away, face carefully constructed into something that would have been expressionless, if not for the pink tinge in his cheeks.
“I think he likes that,” Taehyung teased into Yoongi’s ear.
“He’s gonna let someone kidnap you for ransom if you keep—”
“I wouldn’t do that,” Jungkook said, and Yoongi startled a bit, thinking he’d been quiet enough to not be overheard. When he looked at Jungkook, the kid’s eyes were fierce, almost insulted. “Anyone who tries to touch you or Yoongi-hyung will get fucked up. Sir.”
Taehyung pulled away from Yoongi at that, casting a fond smile in Jungkook’s direction. “Taehyung.”
“Will get fucked up, Taehyung,” Jungkook corrected.
Taehyung grinned. “You’re cute, Jungkook.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes and Jungkook cleared his throat, stepping out of the room with a, “I’ll come back in ten minutes.”
The door clicked shut. There were more footsteps as Jungkook let himself out of Taehyung’s actual bedroom, then another door shutting as Jungkook left that as well.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow at Taehyung.
Taehyung threw up his hands. “I told you he’s the one that came to me and said he didn’t mind hearing us fuck and offered to stand guard from inside the bedroo—”
“That is not,” Yoongi interrupted. “What I’m talking about. Quit flirting so much. He’s already the most attractive person in this universe, apart from you.”
“I’m gonna tell Jimin you said that and he’s gonna smack you. Also, there’s you. I’ll smack you.”
Yoongi tried not to roll his eyes again. “Speaking of Jimin, we should really go sooner, because—”
Yoongi broke off when Taehyung lifted his feet off the ground, grasping at Taehyung’s shoulders as he walked them out of the closet and into his bedroom, depositing Yoongi onto the four poster bed and clambering on after him.
“Taehyung, if we’re late, your moth—”
“I don’t care,” Taehyung whispered, straddling Yoongi’s waist and kissing him, kissing him until Yoongi couldn’t breathe, kissing him until Yoongi forgot where they were supposed to be going, kissing until Yoongi was tightening his knees around Taehyung’s waist and holding him closer.
When they finally broke apart, Taehyung’s lips were pink and swollen, and Yoongi was sure his looked no better.
“Hyung,” Taehyung said softly. “Hyung. Do you know this? You’re the one the matters.”
But the rock never comes. The boat on the river never capsizes.
The fear is still present – the anticipation of a crash. The unsettled water, broiling underneath—
It bothered Yoongi, that Taehyung would never try and go further with his art, be taken seriously for it because of his family, the way he was portrayed by the media. Money can buy you anything they’d say. Said. People only like it because of his name.
And that just wasn’t the fucking case.
Sometimes, when Yoongi came over, he had to buzz the bell six times before Taehyung finally yanked open the door, charcoal smeared up to his elbows, streaked and gray across his cheeks.
“Sorry,” he’d whisper, leaning forward and kissing Yoongi before turning in a flurry and striding back to his art studio.
Yoongi would close the door and lock the latch behind him before grabbing a bottle of water from the cabinet and following Taehyung’s path slowly until he reached the studio door.
Nine out of ten times, Taehyung would leave the door cracked open.
But sometimes, like now, it was shut, with the bright light on the inside barely managing to peek through the crack underneath the door.
Yoongi stepped inside regardless.
Taehyung drew in lots of different positions. Flat on the wood floor, standing up by his easel, on a pad in his lap by the floor to ceiling window, legs criss-crossed in the middle of the floor, back hunched as his hand flew over the big white pad, charcoal making soft thrushing noises as he moved it back and forth over the paper.
That day, Taehyung was facing the window. The sun was setting just out of sight, but the sky was a bright glow, a violent yellow haze bleeding over the buildings’ edges as it lowered over the horizon.
There was a lamp on the floor by Taehyung’s sketch pad, a couple of differently sized chunks of charcoal sitting next to it. The lamp was shining directly onto the drawing. Yoongi could make out a set of hands, fingers interlocked.
He lowered himself to the floor behind Taehyung, placing the water bottle behind the lamp and dipping forward to kiss the hair around Taehyung’s ear. There was a pretty black onyx stone hanging from his left ear in the shape of a tear drop. Yoongi flicked at it, and Taehyung’s hand paused over the paper before he looked over his shoulder at Yoongi.
“Hi,” Taehyung said. His voice was hoarse.
Yoongi settled more comfortably on the floor. “Hey.”
Taehyung turned back to the sketch pad, then moved his leg out of the way, tilting the book so Yoongi could see the drawing. It was a pair of hands, the fingers of one digging into the knuckles of the other, fierce and desperate and with a startling amount of detail, despite the smears of grey by the edges of bone.
Yoongi looked at Taehyung. “That’s fucking beautiful.”
“Thanks,” Taehyung said, letting the pad drop gracelessly to the ground, pushing himself back with his heels until he was flush with Yoongi, back to Yoongi’s front. He curled into himself a bit, curled more deeply into Yoongi at the same time.
Yoongi made a soft noise against Taehyung’s hair, a quiet “hmm?”
“Had that meeting,” Taehyung said, mouth squished a bit against Yoongi’s arm, crossed in front of him. He held Yoongi in place when Yoongi made to move. “Missed my classes today. Teacher’s fucking hate me but won’t fail me because dad donates to the department.”
Yoongi looked at the sketch pad sitting crooked a couple feet away. “They won’t fail you ‘cause you’re good.”
“I guess,” Taehyung said, his voice level.
Yoongi squeezed Taehyung tight to him, looking around. There were sketches everywhere, self-portraits, sketches of Yoongi, of Jimin, of Yoongi and Taehyung, of the city sky line, of flowers, of the ocean. The lack of color didn’t matter because each drawing was bleeding with life.
“You know you are,” Yoongi said. “Which is why it sucks you missed class.”
Taehyung tilted his head back and smiled, but at that angle, it was upside down. “Dad knows I’m shit at this corporate stuff. He’s trying to find me something that fits but it’s—” Taehyung rolled his eye and shook his head, letting his head drop back down to a normal position. “Mm. It’s fine.”
Yoongi kept his lips against the top of Taehyung’s head. “Your dad has said lots of times you don’t need to work at the company.”
Yoongi didn’t follow it up with a question. He knew he didn’t have to. He sat there quietly, and waited for Taehyung to turn the words over in his head before finally responding.
“I know. And I know he wouldn’t cut me off, like Jimin’s would. And even if he did, I’d be okay,” Taehyung said. His voice was low, controlled “But it’s not about not wanting to, hyung it’s—not being able to—” Taehyung laughed, holding up his hands and rubbing them together, smearing the charcoal further. “Not being able to do anything useful.”
Yoongi was quiet for a moment. His arms were still around Taehyung, and he could feel how carefully Taehyung was breathing, like he was purposefully trying to exude calm. Be calm.
When Yoongi moved, he did so slowly, lifting his hands and putting them gently over Taehyung’s still weaving in and out of each other. Under Yoongi’s palms, Taehyung stilled, letting Yoongi guide them down to the tops of his thighs.
Yoongi put his lips against the shell of Taehyung’s ear. “Do you know what you do for me every day?”
Taehyung’s breath quieted, like he was holding it. “What?” he whispered.
Taehyung’s laugh was wet. “Is that all?”
Yoongi lifted one of his hands from Taehyung’s and lightly dragged his fingers under Taehyung’s chin, gesturing for him to look his way. Taehyung obliged, and his eyes were wet too.
Yoongi’s brow furrowed. “I’m being serious. You’re amazing. Fucking amazing. And you don’t owe anything to anyone. If you want to work at K&P, fine. If you want to draw, fine. None of it is gonna be easy, Tae,” Yoongi said gently, stroking Taehyung’s cheek with one palm. “But I’m going to be here.”
Taehyung turned a little, so he could face Yoongi easier. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize,” Yoongi said. “Tae, you’re allowed to feel bad.”
Taehyung didn’t say anything.
Yoongi stroked over his cheek again. “I’m serious.”
Taehyung looked down. “I just feel a little lost.”
Yoongi’s heart jumped. Taehyung.
Taehyung turned fully so he could wrap his arms around Yoongi, pressing forward until Yoongi was forced to lay down on the floor. He kept his arms around Taehyung’s middle so he ended up laying sprawled on top of Yoongi.
“I feel like I’m just floating,” Taehyung mumbled. “Sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes it’s like—like there’s so much around me, and I feel like I’m going to get lost. Like I already am.”
Yoongi closed his eyes, syncing his breathing with Taehyung’s, still purposefully slow, purposefully calm. “I’m here,” he said again.
“When I'm with you," Taehyung said into his neck. Steady breaths, in, out, then in again. "I don't feel lost.”
Taehyung shifted, and when Yoongi opened his eyes, Taehyung was looking down at him.
“Hyung,” Taehyung whispered, and his voice shook, breath coming out in a sudden, hitching gasp.
Yoongi’s voice was steady and low.
In the beginning, Yoongi had assumed that he and Taehyung would end up at the younger boy’s apartment more often than Yoongi’s. Not only did Taehyung live alone, but his place was obviously nicer. The fucker had three bathrooms. For one person.
Taehyung, however, quickly made it apparent he wanted to spend as much time at Yoongi’s as possible, although it took seven official dates for Yoongi to invite him properly inside. And, the second he entered, Taehyung made himself completely at home. He’d politely demanded Namjoon and Hoseok provide their phone number, laughed for an hour and half when he realized he already had Hoseok’s number saved as payphone yoongi-hyung, whined about their terrible eating habits until they traded sugared cereal for some vegetables, and claimed a drawer in Yoongi’s dresser as is. With the clothes still inside.
“They’re mine now,” Taehyung had said, grinning at Yoongi. “Like you.”
And Yoongi had blushed, and given him the drawer.
Several months later, the only thing that had changed was that Taehyung had started to mix some of his clothes in with Yoongi’s.
It made that night, the night, like any other night. Yoongi and Taehyung were pressed together in Yoongi’s bed, a cheap mattress he had gotten from Seokjin a year earlier. The bed frame it laid on was even cheaper, and missing enough screws that Yoongi was pretty sure it was one hard fuck away from collapsing in on itself completely. There was a movie playing on Yoongi’s laptop, sitting on his desk chair right beside the bed.
“I met him once,” Taehyung whispered, pointing at the actor on the screen. He was pressed up against Yoongi’s backside, his chin digging into Yoongi’s shoulder and leg thrown over Yoongi’s hip. He was wearing one of Yoongi’s T-shirts, and nothing else. Yoongi’s fingers were curling around the leg thrown over his own.
“What was he like?” Yoongi mumbled, puckering his lips when Taehyung’s fingers drifted over his mouth.
“Very nice, actually,” Taehyung said. He pressed his mouth against Yoongi’s neck and chuckled when Yoongi shivered. “Is that nice, hyung?”
“You swear, what,” Taehyung goaded, and then Yoongi was being flipped onto his back, Taehyung sliding onto his lap, eyes glimmering. “What, baby? Tell me.”
Yoongi looked at him, the way his hair, recently bleached, feathered across his forehead, waved around his ears. The playful curve of his lips. The happiness in his voice.
“I,” Yoongi said.
Taehyung raised an eyebrow. “Yoongi—?”
“I’m in love with you.”
Taehyung snapped his mouth shut immediately, eyes widening. One strand of hair sticking up around his middle part, actually seemed to fall down a bit, and Yoongi felt his heart slam against his ribs in his sudden panic.
Taehyung was staring at him.
“You’re…in love with—”
Yoongi paused at Taehyung’s words, the inflection he put on me, as if he couldn’t understand why Yoongi would be in love with him.
“Yeah,” Yoongi said. His heart was pulsing in the center of his throat, his tongue felt thick, and his cheeks on fire, but there was nothing else to say.
Only yes. Of course Yoongi was in love with Taehyung.
Taehyung was staring down at him, eyebrows sort of rippling, and Yoongi really didn’t know what to do with that expression, really, just wanted to lean up and kiss Taehyung—
“I love you, too,” Taehyung said.
Yoongi felt his heart, still in his throat, stop. His breath stopped, too, his mind, everything except, Taehyung, now leaning over him a little, looking down at him with his hair a gold halo around his head, his mouth curving softly when he said it.
I love you.
— eventually, that river opens into an ocean.
Yoongi had never been in love before either, so what did he really know, but—
he imagined, it felt something like that.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said. He pulled his sweater a little further across his chest, lifting his eyes instead of his head as he took in the bay, the port, sea salt thick in the air, and the boat floating in the water directly in front of them. “Taehyung, this…”
Wasn’t a boat.
It was a yacht, and Yoongi didn't know shit about them, but it seemed big, even for a yacht. Three visible levels, maybe four, the top being mostly a deck for standing and sunbathing. The one directly underneath was half covered, half exposed. The interior of the second level likely had the bridge, maybe a kitchen and lounge area too. There must’ve been stairs as well, as there was a completely enclosed level below deck. In the exposed part of the deck, Yoongi could see a set of tables by the stern, and a white bench seat curving around the perimeter of the bow.
Yoongi gaze flickered to the words along the side of the yacht, then at Taehyung, who looked a little nervous, more excited. Yoongi looked back at the yacht name.
“Taehyung holy shit. You bought a fucking yacht. And named it—that.”
“It’s for us,” Taehyung said, flushing dark and looking at Yoongi anxiously. “This is what our trip is, ocean sailing. I told you to request off ten days—”
“I did, Tae, but Jesus, how much did y—?”
“And my parents are fine about it, shit, my dad let me take two crates of some really nice champagne, it’s like on of our client’s prototypes for the next Armand de Bri—Jungkook, can you actually go make sure the thing is set right?” Taehyung waved Jungkook off towards the yacht cheerfully, turning back to Yoongi and smiling at his incredulous face. “And hyung, my mom is actually good, she’s been a better, especially since Jimin and Hoseok moved in with each ot—”
“This thing is huge, Taehyung, we need a fucking crew—”
Taehyung grinned. “Well, I know the basics, we have a captain, one other guy who knows what the fuck they’re doing and making sure the boat won’t sink—and a cook.” Taehyung hummed. “Jungkook also knows the basics. He was insistent on joining, he thinks some modern pirates will come fuck us up or something.”
Yoongi looked down at the Yacht-Master Rolex Taehyung had given him exactly one month prior. Thought about how much it cost. Thought about how long Taehyung had actually been planning this. “Holy shit, Tae.”
Taehyung smiled at him. “Happy six months.”
Yoongi put his hand over his eyes. “You’re so fucking gross. Our six months was two weeks ago.”
“We are still in the month,” Taehyung insisted. He flushed, looking excited all over again. He glanced from the yacht to Yoongi a couple times. “Do you like it?”
Yoongi peeked at Taehyung through his fingers, unable to stop his grin. “What did Jimin have to say?” Jimin always had something to say.
“Said I should have just cooked a meal for you. He also forced me to sit down the staff and explain to them they were going to see and hear us fucking. Constantly.”
Yoongi flushed scarlet. “You seriously did that?”
Taehyung leveled him with a deadpan look. “Would you rather we just surprise them?”
“Please, anyone who’s been working for you in the last eight fucking months must know—”
“It’s polite,” Taehyung insisted. He pouted a little. “Do you like the Gucci Wave or not?”
Yoongi smiled wryly. “Of course I do.” He held out his hand, and Taehyung took it. He was already tugging Yoongi forward when Yoongi said, with a smile, “lead the way.”
Yoongi had never actually been on a boat.
He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to go on another boat ever again in his life. Similar to its purchaser, the Gucci Wave had ruined him for anything else.
It seemed even bigger once they boarded, Taehyung chattering excitedly about how his dad and Jimin had helped him buy it, how there’d been a lot more paperwork than he’d thought, but did Yoongi know there was a proper kitchen on board, a hot tub just around that corner on the second deck, and below deck had a bedroom, a bathroom, and there were two showers, one above deck and one below, and did he want to see this part of the deck where the floor was made of glass so perhaps they could see the fish—?
There was a table near the back end of the boat, half under the awning jutting out from the side wall, and there was a spread of breakfast food laid out across the surface, a bucket of ice sitting at the end, holding two large gold-plated bottles of champagne.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said, stopping short.
Taehyung hooked his chin over Yoongi’s shoulder. “Do you like it, baby? If you want to just stay in harbor, we can do that, or book a hotel and do something else, but I thought it’d be nice to go—”
“Tae,” Yoongi said, feeling his heart swell painfully. He turned, pulled Taehyung down until he could kiss him properly, bracketing Taehyung’s waist with his hands and kissing him until he had to take a breath.
Yoongi pulled back. “Let’s lift anchor, or whatever they fucking say.”
Taehyung made a noise of excitement, grabbing Yoongi around the middle and lifting him off the ground. “Hoist the anchor!”
“Jungkook, tell Chanyeol we’re ready to set sail. Or, lift off.” Taehyung hiked Yoongi up a little higher. “Take off?”
“I thought you knew the basics,” Yoongi said to Taehyung.
“I don’t know the terminology,” Taehyung said to Yoongi, who was over a head taller than him now, with how Taehyung was holding him up.
“We’re going to die at sea,” Yoongi said. “Romantic.”
Taehyung puckered his lips and tilted his head up towards Yoongi. And Yoongi, feeling warm and gross and so fucking in love, obliged, kissing him.
Yoongi wasn’t big on champagne, sort of thought it all tasted the same, but whatever the shit was that they had two full crates of didn’t taste half bad, and, four glasses in, fingers slipping around the dewed glass of the flute and the wind whipping at his face, Yoongi felt like he was flying.
After breakfast, Taehyung had brought a bottle and a couple glasses up to the top deck, where they’d been able to sit and watch Gucci Wave leave port and pick up speed as it set out into the open ocean.
Taehyung’s hair, freshly toned and bright blonde, was flying all over the place as he leaned over the railing, champagne in hand, one bare ankle crossed behind the other. He was wearing white, and with the cloth flapping against the pretty gold of his skin, and the sun shining down on him like god’s own personal spotlight, he looked other worldly.
Taehyung turned his head and caught Yoongi staring. Yoongi secured his cap more firmly on his head with one hand, toasting Taehyung with the other.
Taehyung grinned, tossing back the rest of his drink before setting the glass carefully down on the ground. He stayed low, crawling on his hands and knees over to where Yoongi was sitting on one of the benches along the far railing.
Taehyung pushed Yoongi’s knees apart and settled between them, propping his chin on Yoongi’s thigh and looking up at him.
“You’re the love of my life,” Taehyung said seriously.
Yoongi ran his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, still whipping all over the place, blonde and long and unfairly smooth. “You’re mine.”
“Finish that,” Taehyung said, nodding at the glass in Yoongi’s hand. His eyes shone. “We have to christen the Gucci Wave. One deck at a time.”
Yoongi smirked, tilting the glass up and finishing the rest in one swallow. He put his glass down too. “How do you want to do that?”
There was, in fact, a small section of the yacht on the second level, where a couple panels of the floor were comprised of glass, through which, when the water was clear enough, they could see underneath the yacht. When it went slow enough, or was stopped, as it was now, somewhere in the middle of bright blue waves, through the glass was colorful ocean life.
The thing was, it was hard to focus on the vibrant colors of the fish, the coral, swimming and swaying in the water through the glass, with Taehyung splayed out underneath Yoongi, legs wrapped around his waist and head tossed back as Yoongi fucked into him.
“Yoongi,” Taehyung moaned, moaned loudly, and the yacht was big, but not big enough for Yoongi to have no doubt that every single person on board could hear that, hear them. How their skin sounded coming together, how wrecked Taehyung sounded saying Yoongi’s name, calling him hyung.
Yoongi’s hands were holding Taehyung’s thighs so tightly, he knew he was sure to leave bruises, and he gripped tighter, because he knew that’s what Taehyung liked.
“Oh my god, holy shit,” Taehyung said, voice throaty. He scrambled, gasping, “—let me—please—want to see the water, s’like you’re fucking me in the middle of the ocean—”
“Right, but like this—” Taehyung crossed his arms on the glass, and made a small sound when something swam by, pillowing his chin on his arms and arching his back.
Yoongi rubbed his lower back, curling his fingers by Taehyung’s hip and pulling him back. Taehyung was stretched thoroughly, his hole slicked with lube, and Yoongi had to bite back a gruff noise when the tip of his cock briefly dipped inside. “If you stop in the middle of this to ask me if I saw a fish swim by, I’m gonna slap you.”
“Please do,” Taehyung tossed over his shoulder, wiggling his hips. “And please continue.”
Yoongi knew the crew could hear them, knew there was not a shadow of a doubt as to what they were doing, all the time. The bridge wasn’t far, the crew’s quarters not far from that, and the only reason Jungkook wasn’t standing on the deck near them was because he was eating in the kitchen—which again, was close.
But when Yoongi snapped his hips forward, it was hard, and when he said Taehyung’s name, it was loud.
“Baby,” Taehyung moaned back, scrambling, reaching back with one hand, trying to grasp at Yoongi’s thigh, keep him closer. “Fuck, yes, fuck, please harder—”
Yoongi fell back into the rhythm quickly, picking up from when Taehyung had interrupted to switch positions, fucking Taehyung so hard his skin pulled against the glass as he was rucked up it.
Taehyung was loud, always loud when he was getting fucked, so loud that each time it surprised Yoongi a little bit, despite the fact that he knew what to expect by now, enough to actively look forward to it.
“Can you imagine if this glass broke?” Taehyung gasped, palms squeaking as they slid up.
“Fuck,” Taehyung gasped. “We’d probably be fine—we’ve got Jungkook—”
“Tae, you’re not gonna be fine if you don’t fuckin—”
“Shut up?” Taehyung teased, his grin wicked, sharpening at the edges when Yoongi smacked him hard on the ass. “Yes—fu-ck—”
“Shit,” Yoongi said, reaching forward and tangling his fingers Taehyung’s hair and pulling until Taehyung lifted his head, neck arching back, letting Yoongi use this grip to keep him in place.
“Y-yeah—” Taehyung groaned, whining when Yoongi fucked into him at the same time he tugged on his air. Yoongi kept his hold tight and did it again, glancing down to watch how Taehyung was taking his cock, so well, just a mess of lube and spit. Taehyung’s back was tanned from the sun, damp from the ocean, and his hair was a wild mess, the bleached strands now slightly stiff from the exposure to the sun rays and salt water.
No matter who was doing what, when Yoongi and Taehyung fucked it was always all encompassing. Now was no different. All he saw was Taehyung’s gorgeous silhouette against the turquoise of the ocean, all he heard was the sound of his body sticking against the glass floor panel, his low-loud voice coming from deep in his chest. All Yoongi felt was Taehyung. Warm around him, underneath him. Warm like the sun.
Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung.
“Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung choked, head bowing forward towards the glass covered ocean. “I’m gonna—oh please—”
Yoongi jerked on Taehyung’s hair one more time, enough to pull him up off his hands until his back was pressed against Yoongi’s front, enough so that Yoongi could twist his head around and kiss him. It was unrefined, and sloppy, more tongue and teeth meeting than lips, but Taehyung whined into Yoongi’s mouth, hips swiveling back against Yoongi’s and, when Yoongi curled his fingers around Taehyung’s cock, let out another loud whine to signal he was coming.
“Oh shit—” Taehyung whimpered, hips stuttering forward into Yoongi’s fist and back on his cock, and then Yoongi was shoving him back down, grasping his hips and, while Taehyung was still clenching tight around him, continued to fuck into him, fucking himself to his own orgasm, fucking him until Taehyung was moaning breathlessly underneath him, begging hyung inside come inside me, please, please—
All Yoongi could say was Taehyung’s name. Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung—
All around him, all for him, all Taehyung.
Yoongi was sitting at the edge of the bed below deck, Taehyung’s legs on either side of his. Roughly halfway into their trip, Yoongi had faired surprisingly well in way of ultraviolet rays by wearing a lot of T-shirts, hats, and sunscreen.
It was impossible though to avoid it altogether, and the aloe Taehyung was rubbing into his back was cold, soothing to his heated skin, almost better than the light kisses Taehyung was pressing to the back of his head, the side of his face.
“It doesn’t look so bad, I promise” Taehyung insisted, making an apologetic noise when he pressed another dollop of aloe along Yoongi’s mid-back and began to spread it. “Sorry, I know it’s cold.”
“S’fine, it feels nice.” Yoongi sighed, kicking his legs a little, glancing down at them next to Taehyung’s. “You don’t even look burnt.”
“You don’t either,” Taehyung said. “Just a little red.”
“That’s burnt skin, Tae,” Yoongi said, twisting his head a bit and only getting a kiss on the mouth instead of the cheek.
“We’ll just have to put on more sunscreen,” Taehyung said, spreading another bit of aloe along Yoongi’s lower back, rubbing his nose against Yoongi’s neck. He kissed him again. “Are you excited for the island tomorrow?”
“Mm,” Yoongi said, resisting the urge to fall back against Taehyung’s chest so as to give the aloe more time to sink into his skin. Taehyung closed the cap behind him, putting on the ground and went to trailing his fingers up and down Yoongi’s thigh. “I don’t know how everyone who works for you is so young and attractive and highly skilled at what they do.”
“Who are you talking about this time?” Taehyung asked, sounding grumbly. “If you compliment Jungkook again, I’ll think you have a crush on him.”
“I was talking about Chanyeol, the captain finding us an island in the middle of no where.”
"It's not that impressive, it's an actual private resort."
Yoongi looked at Taehyung. “Don't get snippy, you’re the one who flirts.” Yoongi poked Taehyung playfully in the middle of the forehead. “You’re a tease.”
“Not when it matters,” Taehyung said, shifting closer. He kissed Yoongi, deep and slow, guiding him gently onto his side. For a while, they laid there like that, kissing without urgency, but still filthy, wide mouths and heavy tongues.
“Yoongi,” Taehyung whispered eventually, pulling back. His cheeks were flushed, and he was breathing hard. “Jimin called me today.”
Yoongi opened his eyes a little wider, hand dropping down to curve over Taehyung’s hip. “Uh. Okay.” He paused. “How is he?”
Taehyung pursed his lips. “About the job, hyung.”
Yoongi felt his heart thump hard. “Oh.”
Taehyung curled his fingers around Yoongi’s.
“You got it.”
Yoongi’s mouth popped open a little.
Taehyung grinned. “You got it. You’re working for the enemy.”
Yoongi shoved Taehyung. “Oh my god, why the fuck didn’t you tell me this right away? What kind of lead in is that, you little punk—”
“He called me when you were showering above deck.”
Yoongi resisted the urge to smack him. “That was two hours ago, Tae!”
“You’re the one who decided to shower on the deck while everyone was out there,” Taehyung growled, poking Yoongi in the chest. “You knew what that would do to me.”
“I didn’t know Jimin had just told you I got the job—holy shit you—I—I can finally quit the restaurant, move into a new place—”
Yoongi stopped, widening his eyes at Taehyung. “What?”
Taehyung squeezed his hands, eyes big. “Move in with me,” he said. “Hoseok is living with Jimin, and since Seokjin moved in his room he and Namjoon have started dating, so you could—I want you to—” Taehyung scooted closer, “live with me. We could—we could pick a new place, if you don’t like where I’m at, I don’t care, whatever you want, if you even want to—”
“Tae,” Yoongi said, shaking him gently. “Hey. You idiot. Of course I want to. You think I’d agree to be on a boat with you for a week in the middle of the ocean if I wasn’t okay with living with you?”
Taehyung smiled. “Well, this is a yacht, and, we’re not technically in the middle—”
Taehyung draped his arm over Yoongi’s waist, tugging him a little closer. “You really want to?”
Yoongi raised an eyebrow. “Did I really get the job?”
Taehyung laughed outloud, sliding his arm fully along Yoongi’s waist and rolling him up onto his chest. “Yes, baby. You get your own office.”
“That I have to share with three other people,” Yoongi said, but he was grinning.
“That’s even better for when I come to visit,” Taehyung said, a purr in his voice. He rolled his hips under Yoongi’s. “Me, coming into the Park building.”
“It’s the same company.”
“Traitor,” Taehyung said, but they were both laughing now, Taehyung tickling Yoongi’s sides and Yoongi swatting at him with the corner of the blanket. Taehyung pushed himself into a half-sitting position, kissing at the corners of Yoongi’s smile. “I’m really proud of you. You know that was all you, right? My dad’s gonna be so pissed you aren’t going to work for him.”
“Conflict of interest,” Yoongi said against Taehyung’s mouth. “Want to earn my way.”
“You’re so hot.”
“Never, ever ever.” Taehyung kissed Yoongi’s nose. “I have something for you.”
Yoongi’s eyes narrowed. “Do you.”
Taehyung scrambled out from under Yoongi, stretching over so he was half hanging off the bed, far enough to reach his suitcase and rifle through it. He came back, sidling up close to Yoongi and pushing a box his way.
“This isn’t in correlation to the job,” Taehyung said as Yoongi ran a finger over the black suede, nondescript cover of the box. It was soft to the touch, felt expensive. Yoongi raised his eyebrow at Taehyung.
“I just mean I really didn’t know about the job, but I had this anyway, I just didn’t have a reason.” Taehyung blew out a puff of breath. “I hate needing to have reasons to give you things.”
”You just don’t need to buy every single thing you see—“
“But I can buy every single—”
“—and I let you get away with giving gifts for stupid reasons—”
Taehyung pinched Yoongi’s cheeks. “Take that back. I have no stupid reasons.”
Yoongi leveled Taehyung with a deadpan look. “You bought me a Cartier ring the day after I wore mittens on our—”
“Those mittens were adorable!” Taehyung exclaimed, sounding insulted. “You can’t judge me for the ways I express my feelings—”
Yoongi leaned forward, cutting Taehyung off with a kiss. “Let me open the damn thing.”
Taehyung’s cheeks darkened a little, and he nodded, eyes flickering down to the box then up at Yoongi.
Yoongi bit his lip, pushing open the lid and releasing his lip in a silent gasp as he took in the bracelet resting on top of the dark blue velvet interior of the box; the metal was bright and delicate, and came together on one end in the shape of an anchor.
Yoongi straightened up in the bed. “Taehyung…”
Taehyung’s cheeks looked pink, but his face was determined. “I think of you like—”
“Oh, I’m going to kill you—”
“—my anchor,” Taehyung whispered. He was grinning, entreatingly, shuffling closer to Yoongi. “I know, no, listen, it’s dumb but I’m—before you, I was drifting. I was. Y’know, eating dinner for two alone, my art was shit, I didn’t even try with the company…”
Yoongi’s eyes softened. “Taehyung…”
Taehyung pressed closer, lifting the bracelet from the box and holding it out to Yoongi. Wordlessly, Yoongi held out his wrist.
”And,” Taehyung continued, unhooking the latch carefully and looping the chain around Yoongi’s forearm. “Maybe it’s because I’m in love with you, or maybe it’s because I see how hard you work every day, or maybe I’m in love with you because of that, I mean, not just that, shit, Yoongi—” Taehyung latched the bracelet, immediately surging forward to cup Yoongi’s face between his hands and kiss him.
Yoongi kissed back without hesitation. He held in a shiver, at the coolness of the bracelet sliding down his forearm as Taehyung’s mouth moved over his, intensely, lips dragging across Yoongi’s, tongue tracing between his lips.
“—but you…” Taehyung pulled back, curling his fingers in the dark strands of Yoongi’s hair and pulling back so they could look at each other. “You keep me centered.”
Yoongi’s lips curved. “I love you.” He glanced at the bracelet. “Is this—?”
Taehyung grinned, giggling when Yoongi kissed the palm of his hand, still cupped around his cheek. “It’s platinum.”
“You always go all out. You don’t have to.”
Taehyung settled deeply against him. “You deserve it.”
Yoongi ran his fingers through Taehyung’s hair. “I really love you.
“I love you." Taehyung nuzzled Yoongi’s neck. "We gotta celebrate properly tomorrow.”
Yoongi hummed. “Nap on the beach.”
You know you can’t nap on the beach all day, right?”
“Try me. It’s the best way to celebrate.”
“Well actually,” Taehyung said, pulling Yoongi back on top of him with a bright look. “I can think of another way to celebrate. And we don’t even have to leave the bed.”
“Jimin is kinda gonna be your boss—”
“He barely goes into the office, and it’s not even the same department—”
“Are you gonna call him sir?” Taehyung giggled. The lights on the boat deck were dimmed, the main source coming from the hot tub they were both sitting in. They were anchored for the night, and the air was cool, and quiet, just the sound of waves lapping against the hull and their own voices.
There was an ice bucket of champagne sitting just outside the tub, easily within arm’s reach, and although they each had a glass, their attention was on the blunt between Taehyung’s fingers.
“Fuck no,” Yoongi said. “If he’s a little shit like usual, I’ll tell him.” Yoongi coughed around a cloud of smoke. “Okay, I might not tell him that. I wouldn’t put it past Jimin to fire me.”
Taehyung made a grabby motion for the blunt, and Yoongi gave it to him, sinking a little further down the wall of the tub, eyes feeling heavy.
“He probably would,” Taehyung snickered. “Aw, baby. Guess you’ll have to get along.”
Yoongi tilted his head back, amazed at the number of stars he could see glowing across the black of the sky. “Umhm. You remember what he said to me when we met?”
“No,” Taehyung said innocently.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “‘Taehyung said you were a better fuck than me and I really think I’d need to see it to believe it.’” Yoongi lifted his head and, in an exaggerated imitation of Jimin, winked at Taehyung, who burst into a fit of giggles and nearly dropped the blunt into the steaming water.
“Oh my god hyung, you know that’s not how I told him about us!” Taehyung pushed himself off the wall, floating over to where Yoongi was slouched. “Hyung,” he whined.
Yoongi tried not to smile too much. “I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what you told him.”
Taehyung grinned. “But you are a better fuck.”
“You’re such a shit.”
Taehyung stuck out his tongue. "You're the one who pretended to not know your roommate was the same Hoseokie-hyung Jimin was crushing on."
"Oh my god, I told you—”
Taehyung prompty cut him off by surging upwards for a quick kiss, his fingers sliding smoothly up Yoongi's inner thigh. “You wanna sit up on the edge here?” Taehyung said, patting the outer wall of the tub with a sweet smile on his face.
Yoongi raised an eyebrow, looking at the blunt. Taehyung held it up to his lips, and Yoongi breathed in, nice and slow. As he exhaled, he looked around, able to make out Jungkook through the smoke standing along the side deck, no more than twenty feet away.
Yoongi looked back at Taehyung, took the blunt from him, and, slowly, water making small splashing noises as he lifted up out of it and sat on the edge, his calves still in the water, toes brushing the underwater bench seat.
Taehyung moved with him, so that when Yoongi settled, one hand on Taehyung’s shoulder, the other holding the blunt to his lip, Taehyung was still right between his legs.
“You’re exactly where I want you,” Taehyung cooed.
He was quick put his mouth on Yoongi’s cock, slower to take it off, and in fact, didn’t pull off again until Yoongi was coming. Taehyung swallowed the first spurt before shifting back and pumping the rest across his cheeks, nose, and chin. Then, face still slick with cum, Taehyung turned Yoongi around and fucked him like that, bent over on the hard wood surface of the hot tub’s edge. The warm water splashing and Yoongi’s gasps were amplified across the open water.
There was no opportunity to feel lost, no chance to feel fear, not with Taehyung's warm weight behind him and his soft hands firm on his skin, keeping Yoongi, above all else, centered.
Yoongi almost felt as though he were on a honeymoon. Which was silly, since, really, there was no predetermined reason for this trip. It wasn’t actually six months, Yoongi had gotten the job after the fact, and Yoongi had graduated three months earlier. There was no special event or task or reason.
Just each other.
That was the thing about Taehyung. He could make ordinary days special, every day. He could look at Yoongi with so much fucking tenderness in his eyes, so much adoration that Yoongi felt weak with the power behind it. He touched Yoongi like he was something precious, to be treasured, to be loved.
Yoongi wanted these things, desperately, and because he was greedy, he wanted more. Wanted Taehyung to treasure him and love him, but to fuck him and ruin him too.
And because Taehyung was Taehyung, unabashed and forward moving, a river of flowing calm and rushing rapids, Taehyung gave Yoongi exactly what he wanted, what they wanted.
There were times like now, where Yoongi was on all fours on the white leather bench surrounding the inner bow as the hull cut its way through the waves.
Yoongi was sweating, his shirt crumpled on the floor at their feet, his skin flushed, whether from the sun or his own boiling blood, it wasn’t quite possible to say.
“Why don’t you answer me?” Taehyung said, too sweet to be safe. “Hyung? Did you want that? Want me to fuck you out here like this?”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi muttered, looking over his shoulder, then freezing in place when Taehyung slapped him. His ass stung with the force behind it and Yoongi buckled on his elbows, breath stuttering in his throat.
“Don’t move,” Taehyung purred, fingers digging into the waistband of Yoongi’s swimming trunks. He tugged, and Yoongi, instinctively, went to hold it in place, all too aware of Chanyeol just behind the glass of the cabin less six yards away from them inside the bridge, of the other two crew members somewhere in the interior, of Jungkook standing six feet away from them on the deck, against the portside railing.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said again, muffling his cry when Taehyung smacked him a second time. Yoongi glanced at Jungkook. He was standing still, perpendicular to them as he looked across the deck. His eyes didn’t flicker their way, sprawled across the leather couches at the stern, but that didn’t mean he didn’t see them. Definitely didn’t mean he couldn’t hear them.
“I know you like it,” Taehyung breathed, and succeeded in tugging Yoongi’s trunks down over his ass. “Remember when we fucked in that auditorium at your uni?” Taehyung chuckled, pressing his lips against the place he’d smacked. Yoongi shivered. “There was a class due to start in twenty minutes, but you begged me, hyung. Begged me to fuck you right in the middle of that stage.” He kissed Yoongi gently, then reached over to the silver platter of drinks and food just past Yoongi’s reach. His long fingers wrapped around the unopened champagne bottle sitting in a bowl of ice.
“Or what about when I fucked you on my dad’s limo outside that dinner party, a couple months ago?” Yoongi could hear the grin in Taehyung voice, his body flushing from it, from the memory of the metal against his cock as Taehyung fucked him over the hood, the sound and music from the dinner party all too audible from the back porch of the four-story house.
He squeezed his legs together thinking about it, trying to find some relief for his aching cock. Taehyung tutted at him, and Yoongi heard the pop of champagne.
“Taehyung, what—” Yoongi started, and then something ice cold splashed over his heated back. “—the fuck—?” Yoongi gasped, biting back a moan at the cool temperature of the champagne, the way the liquid felt on his burnt skin, the way the bubbles burst as they slid down his back. “Taehyung th-that—that bottle cost—like—”
“A lot,” Taehyung hummed, and another splash of it washed over Yoongi’s back. He moaned, burying his face in his arms as Taehyung yanked off his bathing suit the rest of the way, leaving him completely exposed on the very-visible-from-all-parts-of-the-boat, open air deck.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi groaned.
“It's worth every drop, love,” Taehyung said. “Besides. I’m not wasting it.”
That’s when Taehyung shifted behind him and tilted the bottle up again. The open end of it was positioned right in the center of his lower back, so when the champagne spilled out, it ran right down between his cheeks and onto Taehyung’s tongue.
Yoongi cried out, hips automatically trying to rut forward, but Taehyung growled, tossing the bottle carelessly to the side so he could grasp Yoongi’s thighs and hold him still. The bottle clattered against the deck, loudly, and Yoongi thought he saw Jungkook standing by the rail glance over. His face burned with embarrassment and arousal because holy—holy fuck. Holy fuck. Taehyung was—
Taehyung was eating him out and there were people all around and Yoongi had expensive champagne drying and sticking on his back and the wind whistling across his skin as they jetted through the water. Taehyung was licking the champagne out from between his cheeks, lapping at him, and Yoongi wanted more, wanted everything, anything Taehyung would give him.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said, the name coming out of him like he’d been punched. He gasped, trying to push back against Taehyung now. “Tae, Tae, Taehyung—"
Taehyung made a sound, like he was wholly enjoying the taste, sucking and licking at Yoongi’s rim until Yoongi was moaning wordlessly against the white leather, feeling spit wetting the corners of his lips, cracked and dry from the blaze of the sun.
“God, you’re so pretty,” Taehyung said, voice rough with want. He dragged his tongue up Yoongi’s crack, kissing and licking at the places where the champagne hadn’t dried, suckling at the places it had. Yoongi could feel how sticky he was already, and he squirmed under Taehyung’s mouth, burying his face fully in his arms.
“What, are you shy?” Taehyung said, his breath hot on Yoongi’s neck. “All of a sudden?” Taehyung laughed, kissed him there, then wound his fingers in Yoongi’s dark hair and pulled.
“Ff—fu-ck,” Yoongi said, gasping at the pain, his blood running hot.
“Baby,” Taehyung cooed, pressing his lips, still soft as satin even after days in the sun, against Yoongi’s flushed cheek. “You’re beautiful. Beautiful.”
Yoongi bit his lip, but still, a small sound escaped, desperate and raw. The sun was high in the sky, glinting off the endless expanse of the ocean, and Yoongi was overwhelmed by how small he was, in comparison. But the way Taehyung whispered in his ear, touched him, loved him, fucked him, made him feel like he was the only thing in the world.
“You’re mine,” Taehyung said, biting down on Yoongi’s shoulder and laving at the skin there.
“Yours,” Yoongi grit, neck aching deliciously, face tilted up towards the sun. “Fuck.”
“My love,” Taehyung breathed, pulling at Yoongi’s hair even more, forcing him to arch his back. He made a small sound, hiccupping when he felt Taehyung’s cock push at his rim. “You got nothing to be shy about. You’re so fucking gorgeous, hyung.”
“Stop,” Yoongi groaned, unable to tell now if the heat in his cheeks was coming from Taehyung’s words or the sun beating down on his face. “Fuck, Taehyung.”
Taehyung slowly released his hair. “Don’t hide,” Taehyung said finding a new grip on Yoongi’s hips. “Don’t try and be quiet either.”
Yoongi glanced over his shoulder at Taehyung, licking his lips and swallowing.
Taehyung leaned forward, the tip of his cock just barely pressing into Yoongi. He ran a thumb over Yoongi’s chapped lower lip. “Thirsty?”
“Champagne’s gone,” Yoongi pointed out, breathless.
Taehyung hummed. “Jungkook,” he said, turning towards the guard. Yoongi flushed, going to whip his head back around and press it against his arms, but Taehyung chuckled and hooked his fingers under Yoongi’s jaw, keeping his head up. “Can you get us another bottle?”
“Yes,” Jungkook said, his voice calm and level. He stepped away from the railing and headed towards the stern, where the entrance to below deck was.
Taehyung didn’t wait for Jungkook to fully disappear before he re-secured his hands on Yoongi’s hips and fucked into him in one hot, fast motion.
Yoongi let out an embarrassing noise, something very high-pitched and completely opposite from his usual low timbre.
He was still loose and wet from earlier, when Taehyung had told Chanyeol to fuck off for a minute so he could fuck Yoongi against the helm in the bridge. They’d gotten lube all over the wheel and the boat controls, and, giggling, Taehyung had pulled Yoongi away from trying to clean up the mess, insisting someone else would take care of it. He was such a little shit, sometimes, and when they came out of the room to Chanyeol standing there with a towel and cleaning spray, Yoongi, with grit teeth and a flaming face, had practically ripped the items from his hands and bullied Taehyung back into the room to help him clean up.
And they had, after Taehyung fucked Yoongi again.
So yes, the stretch was bearable. Tender, sensitive, but, his fingers digging into the leather cushion underneath him, Yoongi pushed back against Taehyung, trembling, and said in a low voice, “again.”
“Oh?” Taehyung grinned, even as he fucked into him again, hard enough to push another little cry out of Yoongi. “What happened, love? Not shy anymore?” He squeezed Yoongi’s waist, their skin slapping together loudly on his next thrust. “Are you just that desperate?”
Yoongi wasn’t going to answer, not yet, but then Taehyung snapped his hips forward, harder than before, and the “yes” that burst out of Yoongi’s lips was unbidden.
“Pretty,” Taehyung said. Yoongi looked back at him again, just to see that smile, bright and wicked taking up Taehyung’s face. His smile widened when their eyes met, and he said, “my pretty baby, aren’t you, hyung?” He leaned forward, whispered in Yoongi’s ear. “You’re still a mess from earlier. Pretty little cumslut.”
He slammed his hips forward. “Yeah,” Yoongi gasped.
“Gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Taehyung growled, beginning to find a pace. “Gonna show everyone how lucky I am, get to have you over and over and over again.”
That was when he heard footsteps, and Yoongi froze, thighs clenching up. Taehyung gasped shallowly behind him, pausing for just a second as Yoongi tightened up around him.
Then he began moving again.
“W-wait—” Yoongi said, feeling the blush high in his cheeks as Jungkook’s figure reappeared, brand new champagne bottle in hand.
“It’s okay, baby, you know Jungkook doesn’t mind,” Taehyung cooed, running a large hand up Yoongi’s sticky, trembling back. “You're doing so good.”
“Tae,” Yoongi moaned. His entire body was trembling, and despite the fact that Jungkook was coming closer and Yoongi felt like he should duck and hide, he was rock fucking hard between his legs, and he was doing the exact opposite, arching his back, leaning his head into Taehyung’s grip—because an entire other part of him wanted so desperately to be seen.
“Good boy, that’s it,” Taehyung breathed. He was fucking Yoongi without a damn care that Jungkook was closing the distance between them, each solid tap of his boots against the deck somehow carrying over the noise of Yoongi’s harsh breathing, his and Taehyung’s skin smacking together, and Yoongi’s cock ached almost in tandem with the sound, like a sick echo of his footsteps. “Take it hyung so fuckinggood, hyung.”
“I—I—Taehyung—” Yoongi whined, slapping a hand over his mouth because he should, because Jungkook was right fucking there—
Taehyung grabbed him, holding his arm behind Yoongi and using it to pull him back onto his cock. “Fuck, you sound so good, don’t—don’t hide it, hyung—”
Yoongi closed his eyes against the sun, heard the sound of Jungkook pushing the champagne bottle into the ice, and then Taehyung said, voice breathless, “No, Jungkook, give it—give it, here.”
Taehyung released Yoongi’s arm, and he just barely caught himself on the leather bench, panting, neck burning with some hot cross between shame and arousal. He glanced over to see Jungkook, face stupidly stoic, hand the bottle over to Taehyung, still buried to the hilt inside Yoongi.
Taehyung met his eyes again as he opened the bottle. “Jungkook,” he said, and Jungkook stopped midturn, pausing to look back at Taehyung. “He’s pretty, isn’t he?” he said, slowly untwisting the wire stopping the cork.
Yoongi glared at Taehyung, heart pattering when Jungkook said, calmly, “Yes, s—Taehyung.”
Taehyung’s gaze briefly slid over to Jungkook. “Looks good getting fucked, doesn’t he?”
Jungkook shifted on his feet, and for once, it looked like he was actively avoiding looking at Yoongi. Yoongi swallowed, squirming a little, but Taehyung landed a warning slap to his ass, stilling him. Yoongi’s cock throbbed at that. “It’s okay, Jungkook,” Taehyung said, going back to working the cork off. “You can look.”
Jungkook paused for another beat, then his gaze slid over to Yoongi.
Yoongi knew he looked—well.
He could feel the sweat clumping the roots of his hair, the shakes in his thighs, the way his mouth hung open just slightly, and, of course, Taehyung’s cock currently rocking into him.
He looked absolutely fucked out.
“Yes, Taehyung,” Jungkook said, softly.
“I know,” Taehyung said, sounding possessive and proud all at once. Jungkook gave a jerky sort of nod before he finally walked away and settled at his original position, up against the portside railing.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said. The cork popped off, and Yoongi could feel the foam bubbling over drip onto his flushed back.
“Here,” Taehyung said, tipping the bottle towards Yoongi’s mouth.
“You’re unbelievable,” Yoongi gasped, but opened his mouth anyway, letting Taehyung pour the liquid down his throat, sputtering a little when Taehyung tilted the bottle too much and some champagne escaped out the corners of his lips.
“Me?” Taehyung answered. He pulled the bottle back, and Yoongi gasped when he tipped more over where their bodies joined. “You like him watching,” Taehyung said, voice almost a growl. Yoongi shuddered at that, at the ice-cold champagne getting fucked into him as Taehyung moved his hips. “You like him and everyone seeing you fall apart like this. Hm?”
“I don’t,” Yoongi grit out.
“What’s this, then?” Taehyung said, wrapping his fingers around Yoongi’s hard cock and pumping several times. He splashed more champagne between them before putting the bottle aside and pressing their bodies together as he ground into Yoongi.
Yoongi’s cry was breathless, his back sticking against Taehyung’s chest as they moved together. “Are you a little slut and a liar, hyung?” Taehyung said into his ear.
“No,” Yoongi moaned. He ground back against Taehyung, gasping. “I like—people seeing—you fuck me.”
Taehyung’s gasp was harsh, and then he was wrapping his arms around Yoongi, adjusting him until he was forced to hook his arms over the railing at the very front of the boat, over looking the ocean.
“God, you’re so fucking perfect,” Taehyung whispered, kissing up the sweaty, sticky skin of his shoulders, his neck, sucking Yoongi’s pierced earlobe into his mouth, fucking into him deeper. “Love you so fucking much, hyung, everyone wants you, y’know? But you’re mine.”
Yoongi’s voice broke on a sob when Taehyung found his prostate, his stomach pressing against the hot metal of the railings when Taehyung fucked forward, the ocean crashing under the bow below them.
Unbelievable, Yoongi thought.
Because Taehyung was the one everyone wanted, and Yoongi was the one that was lucky enough to fucking have him. Yet he knew, he knew Taehyung loved him, and Yoongi loved him back with such an intensity that he didn’t give a flying shit, when it came down to it, about anything but Taehyung, not the money or the yacht—he just wanted Taehyung.
However, Yoongi didn’t have a hope for articulating this, not right now, not when Taehyung was growling into his ear in between hot licks, his hips slamming against Yoongi’s ass.
“Your little cunt is so tight around my cock, hyung,” Taehyung hissed, digging his fingers into Yoongi’s hips. Yoongi in turn, scrambled for a grip on the railing, head bowed forward and knees burning against the leather cushions. “Sloppy little hole, fucked full of my booze and cum—do you like that?”
Yoongi gasped, hot with shame, dizzy with pleasure. He arched his back as best he could manage.
“Tell me,” Taehyung snarled, and one hand found its way to Yoongi’s throat. Not pressing enough to stop the airflow, but it jerked Yoongi into a response, made him clench around Taehyung as he told Taehyung yes he did, he fucking liked it, he fucking loved it.
“M’gonna come,” Taehyung said, fingers pressing briefly against Yoongi’s neck, the nails on his other hand scratching at his hips. “Want you to come too, hyung.”
“I know, I know, Taehyungyes,” Yoongi whispered, words slurring. He felt engulfed in all senses – the heat from the sun, the scent of salt in the air, the crashing of the waves against the hull, and just Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, whispering to him, fucking him, loving him.
“Love, love, Yoongi-hyung, come for me,” Taehyung breathed into his ear.
He came with a violent shudder, hips jerking back against Taehyung’s, who bit down on his shoulder as he fucked him hard against the railing, a muffled moan into his skin his signal that he was coming too. “S’good, fuckYoongi,” Taehyung moaned, shoving Yoongi roughly against the metal, fucking them both through their orgasms. Broken little whimpers, short, raspy ah-ah-ahs were tumbling from Yoongi’s mouth, out into the open ocean air, and he felt so fucking alive, with Taehyung as close to him as was humanly possible, with the sun beating down on his face, with Taehyung whispering I love you, I love you, I love you into his neck, hair, his jaw.
Dazed, Yoongi realized some of his cum must have just arced into the ocean, and the thought had him laughing, slightly delirious, as he let his head fall back against Taehyung’s shoulder.
“What,” Taehyung mumbled, kissing up and down Yoongi’s neck. “What’s funny?”
“I just,” Yoongi chuckled, weakly, sagging a little against Taehyung, who supported his weight easily. “Just came. Into the ocean. At the front of this fucking yacht.”
Taehyung was quiet for a beat and then he was giggling too, smothering his chuckles into Yoongi’s shoulder, then not bothering to hide them, pressing Yoongi against the railing again, more lightly this time, as he leaned forward to laugh.
“My own pretty king of the world, hm,” Taehyung said with a grin, hugging Yoongi tightly to him. Yoongi grunted, failing to stifle his own laughter. “Got you off right at the front of the boat. We’re like. Titanic.”
“That,” Yoongi said, “is a terrible comparison.”
“Just the first part of the movie,” Taehyung said, still beaming. He kissed Yoongi wetly on the cheek, then, slowly, pulled out. “Oh, shit, it’s sticky.”
“What’d you expect,” Yoongi said, tossing him a look over his shoulder. He still felt flushed, a little tipsy, very much more aware of Jungkook still standing several feet away. “Can we shower?”
“Mhm,” Taehyung said. “I’m just gonna get you dirty again, though.”
“Then we’ll shower again,” Yoongi said. He shifted, legs wobbling as he stood.
“Hey, you’re my king, right?” Taehyung said, and then, before Yoongi could protest, swung him up bridal style into his arms. “Kings don’t walk.”
“Taehyung,” Yoongi said. He was blushing again, furiously. “Put me down.”
“In a minute,” Taehyung said, walking them towards the living quarters. He ducked down, nuzzling Yoongi’s nose. “Let me take care of you, Yoongi.”
Yoongi flushed darker when Taehyung smiled down at him, but, save for a few very weak kicks, he didn’t try to leave Taehyung’s arms, maybe even pulling Taehyung down for a kiss right as they walked by Jungkook.
It was their last night on the water.
Yoongi woke up alone, a groggy glance at the Yacht-Master telling him it was around two in the morning. He was slow to get up, muscles a little sore, although nothing he didn’t take a small pleasure in.
The yacht was going slowly through the water, barely fast enough to create a breeze, Yoongi noticed as he climbed onto the deck, looking around. Everyone, even Jungkook, at Taehyung’s insistence, was asleep in the crew’s quarters, save for Chanyeol at the helm. The light from the moon made it possible to walk, as they’d shut off most of the lights onboard for the night.
Yoongi couldn’t quite see the top deck from where he stood, but he didn’t need to see to know. He made his way to the step ladder, climbing carefully, muscles still waking up.
The night breeze didn’t feel quite so cold when he cleared the last steps and saw Taehyung sitting on the floor in the middle of the deck, facing the boat’s stern where the yacht left behind a small, white wake. Taehyung’s head was relaxed back, eyes cast up to the night sky.
Yoongi sat down next to him and mimicked the position, swallowing when he took in the lights overhead, a plain of stars and constellations, swirls of stardust and red-tinted planets. To the left, high up in the sky, the waxing moon shone, casting a line of white across the black water. As Yoongi’s gaze scanned across the ocean, he could see that the sky overhead was reflecting in the water too, and, sitting up here at the topmost part of the yacht, surrounding by nothing but darkness and stars, Yoongi felt bit like he was—
“Holy fuck,” Yoongi whispered, his voice loud in the night. He looked at Taehyung, feeling his body warm considerably when he saw Taehyung was already looking at him.
“What?” Taehyung said.
Yoongi gestured at the ocean below them, the sky above them. The stars, the moon. “It’s—it’s like we’re in space.” He bit his lip, leaning back a little, not quite sure when he’d straightened. “It’s fucking beautiful.”
He peeked at Taehyung again. Taehyung was still looking at Yoongi.
Yoongi’s lips twisted a little, a smile he tried to fight as he pushed Taehyung’s shoulder. “Don’t even. Don’t.”
Taehyung smiled. With the way the moon was shining, his eyes really were glowing. “You’re fucking beautiful.”
“I told you, don’t,” Yoongi groaned, but he was fully grinning now. “You giant fucking cliché. I’m going to puke over the side of this boat.”
Taehyung grinned too. “It’s a yacht,” he responded, turning his eyes back towards the night around them. “You’re right, though. This is another world, hyung.”
Yoongi took the chance to look at Taehyung for a moment, taking in the way his hair was curling at the ends, bangs so long they were actually hanging in his eyes, catching in his lashes when he blinked. His eyes were darting over the water, constellations shifting in his irises.
Yoongi turned his head and looked up.
They sat in silence like that for a while, not touching, but Yoongi felt no less close to him than he had all week. It was quiet, nothing but the gentle purr of the engine, the splash of the water as the boat cut through water, and, so soft it was nearly lost to the passing breeze, Taehyung breathing beside him.
“Feels like we’re flying, doesn’t it?” Taehyung said after a long while, his voice soft as the sea breeze.
Yoongi stirred, letting his head fall to the left a bit, enough so he could look at Taehyung better. Taehyung mirrored his position completely, from the tilt of his head down to the stretch of his legs across the deck.
“I thought floating.”
Taehyung’s smile was warm and Yoongi really, really couldn’t say if the glimmer in his eyes was from the sky all around them or his own making.
"I kinda thought," Taehyung said. "That that was a bad thing, for a while. But," his hand slipped into Yoongi’s. "I think now that's it's all right, so long as you're somewhere nice."
Yoongi squeezed Taehyung's fingers back. "I think I'm somewhere nice. You're here."
“I am,” Taehyung said. He leaned forward until, instead of the endless expanse of ocean in front of him, there was just Taehyung.
Yoongi tightened his grip. Didn’t close his eyes until the last possible moment, so the last thing he saw before Taehyung’s mouth pressed against Yoongi’s was ocean stars in his eyes, and then, with his eyes shut and body weightless, with nothing around him, nothing to keep him in place in the open sea—
There was Taehyung.