adrenaline is singing in yoongi’s blood, since it’s finally the day of the glorious future of min yoongi’s career, or else referred to as the matches hosted by the korea taekwondo association. he’ll find out whose ass he’s going to kick or who’s going to kick his ass — which won’t happen, of course — today. in a dark and deep place of yoongi’s mind, he wishes for it to be jeongguk.
jeon jeongguk, whose laughter can be heard from where yoongi sits. yoongi snaps his head towards it, enthralled by the silvery sound. he’s chattering animatedly to his master, kim namjoon, the bitter nemesis of yoongi’s master and friend, kim seokjin. yoongi’s gaze hones in on jeongguk, though. even from this far away, he can see how jeongguk tips his head back when he laughs, eyes falling shut into crinkled half-moon silhouettes, the cute scrunch of his nose, and his adorable bunny-like teeth.
staring at jeongguk, yoongi gets a wild thought. he wonders why he isn’t the one making jeongguk laugh like that, because he knows full well that he could. then he’s thinking about the many ways he could make jeongguk smile, maybe by offering him red bean lollies and lamb skewers, like the old times where they used to—
“yoongi-yah!” seokjin’s commanding voice cuts through his train of thought. the hand on his shoulder startles him, snapping yoongi out of his reverie. he comes to attention quickly, finding seokjin with two water bottles and offering one to yoongi, who reaches out with a thanks, hyung.
seokjin sighs. “are you wallowing over him again?” he murmurs, looking at yoongi, then at jeongguk. his eyes narrow when he sees namjoon, lips twitching into a thin line. yoongi blushes, hiding it by twisting open the bottle cap, and takes a few gulps. “no,” he says.
turning his attention back to yoongi, seokjin shakes his head. “you should get rid of your little crush, yoongi-yah.” he tips his head back and drinks, adding, “it won’t do any good to your career.”
“i know,” yoongi nods, gritting his teeth. “i’ll work on it.”
seokjin seems slightly unconvinced, the crease between his eyes furrowing as he scrutinises his student’s face. yoongi has to work on his subpar lying techniques alongside getting over jeongguk, he realises. fortunately, seokjin doesn’t press it and moves on, to yoongi’s deep relief.
“have you seen the match arrangement?”
“not yet. are you curious?” yoongi grins, raising his eyebrows.
“of course i am. i’m not about to see my student’s ass whooped.”
“i think you’re talking to the wrong person, hyung.” yoongi snickers. “i’m the one whooping asses, not the other way round.”
“sure, champ. let’s go see, then.”
offering yoongi a hand, seokjin pulls him up. both of them walk to the board where the match arrangements are usually affixed. yoongi’s eyes widen when he sees who he's fighting against.
min yoongi vs jeon jeongguk.
he directs a pleading look to seokjin, who’s chortling loudly, and yoongi suddenly gets the urge to smack the manic smile off his hyung’s face as seokjin says with a shit-eating grin,
“good luck, yoongi-yah. you’ll need it.”
the waiting game before the taekwondo matches is always long and painful for jeongguk. he’s standing at a side, refilling his water bottle and taking large, refreshing sips to replenish his energy before he has to face up against the inevitable, his archenemy min yoongi.
sighing as he contemplates his odds (not very good, as of now, but he’s going to stay confident to every other martial artist who comes up to ask how he’s doing), he moves over to the stretching corner and does a few calf stretches, followed up by a few hamstring stretches. his hamstring is his weakest spot, he knows, and he can’t take any risks, especially not during this particular match.
he’s finishing up his leg workouts with some seated straddle stretches when someone clears their throat from behind him. jeongguk cranes his neck around, not wanting to move though his inner thighs are aching a bit, and decides instantly that getting up to greet this person isn’t worth his time. min yoongi smirks at him, corners of his lips twitching.
“you’re so bad at stretching it’s laughable. you’re as stiff as a board with that straddle stretch, little one.”
jeongguk bristles first at the insult, then at the nickname, which he hasn’t heard in years. he straightens up indignantly as yoongi snickers at his undignified struggling to get up, which is unfair because jeongguk’s legs hurt.
“wanna bet i stretch better than you do, jeongguk-ah?” yoongi taunts, laying a hand on jeongguk’s shoulder. jeongguk shrugs the hand off as if in disgust, and watches yoongi’s face fall a little. good. serves him right. “or are you too chicken to take that challenge, hm?”
“of course not,” retorting hotly, jeongguk grabs the side of yoongi’s taekwondo uniform and drags him down onto the stretching mat, which yoongi falls on with a slight oof. yoongi’s heavier than jeongguk expected, and jeongguk can feel the muscles bulging under the pristine white cloth — his biceps all sinewy and strong, giving jeongguk thoughts that should definitely not be directed towards min yoongi. “well, let’s try out some partner assisted stretches and we’ll see who’s the better out of the two, shall we?”
“yeah, yeah. see who’s the number one martial artist in korea, shall we?”
yoongi says it like it doesn’t stir up painful memories, like it’s not a reminder of the past. yoongi says it offhandedly like it doesn’t matter. and that fuels the fire burning in jeongguk’s chest.
“let’s start off with the partner assisted chest stretch,” deliberately ignoring yoongi’s pointed jab, jeongguk replies with something harmless instead. “you can start on me first. i haven’t done my chest stretches yet, anyway.”
“ah, alright,” yoongi murmurs, then all of a sudden he’s behind jeongguk, and jeongguk’s wrists are being hauled backwards with more force than is necessary— “ow! easy on the arms, dumbfuck, are you trying to kill me?”, and then slim hands grip his wrists together, pulling his torso back, back, back until jeongguk’s midriff begins to ache.
“you’re literally going to break my back this way,” jeongguk complains. “wanting to get an edge on me before the match begins is cheating.”
“oh, is it now?” the deep tone of yoongi’s voice sends shivers tingling at the base of jeongguk’s back because yoongi is close, way too close, his breath ghosting over the back of jeongguk’s neck and making the hairs there stand up. “you’re doing well, little one. don’t tell me it’s too much for you? too intense? if you’re that weak… mmm, i’ll ruin you in the tournament."
yoongi definitely knows what he’s doing. he knows what he’s saying. he knows the way his hands are grasping jeongguk’s wrists, knows how his lips are just inches away from jeongguk’s neck. then yoongi draws away, releasing jeongguk abruptly, and a gust of cold emptiness hits jeongguk’s back. jeongguk bites back the insane urge to let out a whine at the loss of contact.
he’s going crazy.
“okay, seeing as you’re so bad at stretching, why don’t you help me do it?”
yoongi’s voice pierces through jeongguk’s thoughts and jeongguk refocuses, to see yoongi quirking up an eyebrow at him.
“fine, fine,” jeongguk huffs, praying his cheeks aren’t as red as he thinks they are, and crawls closer to yoongi. “what do you have in mind, then?”
“why don’t we try the groin stretch,” and what the fuck, yoongi definitely has at least some idea of what he’s doing to jeongguk because the way he enunciates the word groin is not helping with jeongguk’s thoughts, which begin to run wild again. he conditions himself not to look downwards as yoongi spreads his legs wide open and jeongguk rests his feet on yoongi’s ankles. “good, it’s a relief that you know the stance at least. you can start pushing.”
jeongguk immediately begins pushing yoongi’s legs wider apart from each other, intending to cause him as much undue pain as he’s done to jeongguk. but yoongi’s smile just grows as jeongguk continues to force his legs into a split, until jeongguk’s staring in disbelief at yoongi’s legs which are spread into a 180. or even wider. jeongguk is too much in shock to gauge it.
“not bad for someone older than you, hmm? i’m quite flexible, you should know.”
“i— wow—okay,” jeongguk stammers, all too aware of the blood pounding in his temples and rushing downward to god knows where. “um, i did not need that information. thank you, though. wow. okay.”
jeongguk is pretty sure steam must be coming out of his ears, or some equivalent of that. yoongi retracts his unfairly strong, flexible (jeongguk suppresses a groan) legs and yawns unconcernedly, stretching his arms above his head in a gesture that’s almost feline. the older man bites back a grin as he nods to jeongguk, eyes roaming over jeongguk as if in clear satisfaction, then striding away to meet his friends.
jeongguk proceeds to bury his head between his bended knees and lets out a silent scream.
the tournament begins before jeongguk can even blink.
he’s circling yoongi in the fighting square, weight heavy on the blue padding as yoongi eyes him like a predator sizing up his prey. jeongguk’s concentration is momentarily broken by the sound of yoongi’s feet scraping against the floor, and in that second it takes for him to lose focus, yoongi launches into a spinning hook kick that hits jeongguk straight in the gut.
he’s too strong, alarm flashes through jeongguk’s mind as he tries to catch his unsteady breath while staring with glazed eyes at yoongi. the older grins, the smile almost feral and cat-like. he squares up, readying his stance and jeongguk doesn’t see the flying back kick before it comes. yoongi leaps up powerfully and the heel of his foot connects with jeongguk’s sternum painfully, causing jeongguk to lose his balance and let out a low hiss.
“oh fuck you,” jeongguk wheezes, pressing a hand on his hip in a last-bid effort to stabilise his body. the pain flares up in his limbs again. “you’re way too cocky for your own good. wipe that goddamn smirk off your face, yoongi-yah, or you’re going to know hell in the next few minutes.”
he aims a well-placed roundhouse kick at yoongi, which the older dodges expertly.
“how about you call me by the right honorifics, you impertinent brat?”
“how about you get the fuck off this taekwondo mat and let me win this competition once and for all? everyone knows nobody wants your ugly face on the winners’ board again. it’s time to give someone else a win for once.”
“well, that someone has to earn their win,” yoongi’s smirk curls contemptuously, and the older cracks his knuckles as they circle each other on the mat, their black belts swaying with the movement. “how about you let me destroy that pretty face of yours for once, because i’m sure that victory would taste sweeter if you were the one i took down.”
“d-did you just call me pretty—”
“rule one of taekwondo, never let your opponent catch you off guard.”
the snide, pointed remark is the only warning jeongguk gets before yoongi aims an axe kick at him, the heel of his foot coming up towards jeongguk’s shoulder blade in a well-aimed position, and jeongguk moves into a cross block in alarm, hyperaware of the fluidity of yoongi’s motions and the dexterity with which he moves.
god, he’s not one of the best black belts in korea for nothing.
suddenly yoongi is close, way too close to him for jeongguk’s own good, and jeongguk’s senses spike in surprise as yoongi’s arm ghosts over his for a second. he’s readying himself for a direct punch to the gut, and jeongguk’s glad he’s seeing this before it comes. confident this time round, he moves to try a knee strike, wanting to take yoongi down once and for all. the knee strike would surely work since they’re in such uncomfortable proximity to each other.
to jeongguk’s absolute horror, his knee strike aims wide.
yoongi’s impossibly white teeth flash in victory and the resulting uppercut he delivers has jeongguk sprawling onto the taekwondo mat, head spinning and dizzy, disoriented with the painful blow just to the right of his chin. ears ringing and temples pounding, he can only lie flat as yoongi pins him down, effectively caging him and positively straddling jeongguk with the position they’re in.
then as yoongi’s hands lock him in place on either side of him, a hot sensation floods jeongguk’s senses and he can’t help the sharp gasp that leaves his lips as he registers it. it’s stemming from the hungry press of yoongi’s fingers at his waist, an insistent burning that pools in the pits of his stomach. no, fuck, no, that can’t be.
yoongi’s eyes are glinting and dangerous as they stare him down.
the older’s wrist is heavy on jeongguk’s side and jeongguk can’t mistake the telltale signs anymore. the weakening of his legs into jelly, the bolt of arousal that shoots straight to his core and the trembling of his lips as he gasps, inhaling and exhaling in panic. his cock starting to harden painfully beneath him, straining for some semblance of friction.
to yoongi’s questioning gaze, jeongguk opens his cherry-red lips and closes them when he realises all that’s going to spill out of them is a needy whine which he absolutely must keep inside him for the good of humanity. he screws his eyes shut and musters all his strength, ramming his knee into yoongi’s middle and leaping up for good measure.
too bad he isn’t able to mask the moan that escapes his mouth as he does it. a moan that’s low and deep and wanting, loud enough to stop yoongi in his tracks as jeongguk faces him once more.
yoongi thinks the kick jeongguk aimed at him might have given him slight hearing damage, because he most definitely did not just hear jeongguk’s grunt turn into a restrained moan. he immediately releases the grip he has on jeongguk’s waist, and as jeongguk struggles to a standing position, they both quickly take a few steps back from each other.
yoongi decides not to dwell on what the fuck that moan exactly was.
“tired already, ggukie?” the nickname falls easily—too easily—from yoongi’s lips, which stretch out into a cheshire smirk. and if yoongi notices how jeongguk’s eyes slightly widen in surprise, no one mentions anything. “i thought you were better than this,” he taunts, wanting to get on jeongguk’s nerves. “namjoon-gwanjang's best student, huh?”
it works, because jeongguk’s face morphs into something like rage, and he cocks his head, tongue poking into the inside of his cheek, replying, “don’t get so full of yourself, old man.”
yoongi sees jeongguk getting his stance ready to launch a back kick, twisting his body to the right and facing away from him. jeongguk looks over his shoulder and lifts his leg up, but yoongi attacks him with a strong roundhouse kick to his side, sending jeongguk collapsing down to the floor with a howling moan.
what the fuck, thinks yoongi, walking towards where jeongguk is sprawled out on the mat, before bending down to look into his face—which is red, flushed, down to his chest, visible from the opening on his uniform. jeongguk is panting heavily, hot puffs of air coming from his mouth, glistening and bitten-red.
“you good, kid?” he asks, concern heard quite clearly in his voice. yoongi doesn’t want to actually hurt jeongguk, because that could cost him his place in being seokjin’s ace student. he gets no response, though, jeongguk still busy trying to regulate his breathing. so, yoongi gets down to his knees, meaning to check if jeongguk’s okay. but turns out, he gets too close, because his knees accidentally touch jeongguk’s waist—and jeongguk moans. an ah that gets cut off in the middle because jeongguk clamps a hand over his mouth, and yoongi blinks.
looking over to the middle section of jeongguk’s body, yoongi doesn’t expect to see the strain in jeongguk’s pants and a little wet patch forming there.
however, yoongi doesn’t have time to ask jeongguk about it, since the judge blows the whistle and announces yoongi won the match.
jeongguk gazes, eyes limpid, up at yoongi who’s towering above him. his cheeks are flushed over with the exertion of keeping his moans of arousal inside him. he can feel the heat pooling in his groin and the wetness seeping into his taekwondo uniform, causing the blush on his cheeks to rise till the tips of his ears are seared with embarrassed red.
yoongi must notice the state jeongguk is in as well, because his eyes are wide and unblinking as he drags his gaze slowly and purposefully over jeongguk’s body, causing a thrill to run up jeongguk’s spine and leading to another rush of heat southward. there’s something like pity and oh, fuck, a few threads of what seem like lust swirling in yoongi’s eyes.
“mmm, is this actually happening? do you, jeon jeongguk, perhaps want me?”
“fuck you,” jeongguk replies, but it’s weak and shaky, a breath escaping out of his lips as yoongi’s hand grasps both of his wrists firmly and tugs him up from where he lies supine. “nobody wants you in any way, dickhead.”
“how impertinent,” yoongi tsks, signaling to the judge that jeongguk needs help and hoisting one of jeongguk’s arms over his shoulders. “you’ll have to learn your lesson about respecting me sometime later.”
yoongi’s other hand loops around jeongguk’s waist for support.
“ah — please —" at that, jeongguk bucks desperately in yoongi’s grasp, his hips jolting forward into yoongi’s side, and buries his head into the older’s shirt as a cry escapes his shuddering lips. “please, yoongi-hyung, not there. anywhere but there.”
“what? what did you just say?”
yoongi’s confused, because jeongguk does not reply but instead slumps into his arms, weak and pliant, the wet spot on his taekwondo uniform growing. as they limp to the changing rooms amid cheers from the crowd, yoongi feels jeongguk’s hair tickle his chin as the younger presses into him, practically rutting into yoongi’s muscled thighs as they limp to the changing rooms. jeongguk’s growing erection brushes needily against yoongi time and again, and yoongi fails to find the words he needs to comprehend this situation. so he opts to ask jeongguk himself.
“jeongguk-ah. ggukie, look at me. chin up.”
he jerks jeongguk’s face towards him forcefully, and jeongguk’s expression tells him everything. the younger’s eyes are lidded, positively clouded over with desire as he rakes his gaze over yoongi’s features, his breath coming in small, short, heated puffs.
“ah, i see. i didn’t know you were so desperate for me.”
lips twitching, yoongi pulls them into the changing rooms and closes the door with slight difficulty. he gently lowers jeongguk onto a bench and mistake — his slender fingers grip jeongguk’s impossibly tiny waist in a bid to stop him from falling and jeongguk throws his head back, keening loudly and obscenely.
“what in the actual everloving fuck are you doing, jeongguk-ah!”
yoongi whisper-yells, clamping a panicked hand over jeongguk’s wet lips. jeongguk mumbles something indiscernible into yoongi’s palm and attempts to pry yoongi’s other hand off his waist. yoongi glances down to where jeongguk’s frantic fingers are clawing fearfully at him and something clicks in his mind.
“oh, so that’s it, am i right baby?”
smirking, yoongi decides to press down firmly on jeongguk’s waist, practically trailing his touch all over the younger’s midriff. even yoongi’s hand couldn’t muffle the whimpers and moans from jeongguk, or stop the steadily leaking wetness on jeongguk’s pants. “how sensitive you are. how pathetic. let’s see how i can help you with that, shall we?”
ignoring jeongguk’s muffled protests, yoongi loops two fingers around jeongguk’s pants and eases them down, exposing the younger’s milky-white thighs, bunched up with the exertion of trying not to tremble — and his angry red cock, which springs out of the fabric, fully erect and leaking precome from the tip that dribbles uncontrollably down jeongguk’s legs. jeongguk hides his face in his hands as yoongi stalks closer, grinning in satisfaction at the delicious sight of jeongguk spread wide open for him.
“now you’re embarrassed, hm? that won’t do. come on, take your hands away. look at me when i’m right in front of you, brat.”
jeongguk won’t budge, his shoulders shaking as he buries himself further in his hands and turns his face away from yoongi. yoongi lowers his lips to jeongguk’s cock and, on impulse, presses a fleeting kiss to the tip, which makes jeongguk jerk in surprise. a bit more precome spills down his shaft. snickering softly at the hair that stands up along jeongguk’s inner thighs, yoongi ghosts his fingers along jeongguk’s waist again, and lifts jeongguk’s taekwondo uniform on impulse, curious as to why it’s suddenly become an erogenous zone for the younger.
what yoongi sees stops him in his tracks.
a tattoo is emblazoned across jeongguk’s waist, the imprint of a set of hands interlocking around his midriff. the long, slim fingers are interlaced together right at jeongguk’s belly button, as if claiming jeongguk as theirs, as if binding jeongguk to them. the shape and form of the hands are oddly familiar, the rise and fall of the knuckles somehow not new.
after a heartbeat, in which jeongguk desperately tries to tug his uniform down and yoongi incapacitates him by tracing sensual patterns over the tattoo (which elicits even more moans from the younger), yoongi realises the truth. he places his own palms over the set of hands, and finds that the outline fits him perfectly.
when yoongi aligns his hands completely with the tattoo, his hands tugging over jeongguk’s waist, jeongguk arches his back and “ah, y-yoongi-hyung! don’t — please, it’s too much — ” comes out of his lips as a desperate wail. and yoongi knows the truth.
“well. what have we found here, then?” yoongi hums thoughtfully and leans close, very close to jeongguk, till he can practically count the number of eyelashes on jeongguk’s eyes which are screwed so very tightly shut. “didn’t realise we’re soulmates, my little one.”
the force with which jeongguk suddenly surges up is palpable, because jeongguk’s lips are crashing angrily into his, a tidal wave of need and want, and jeongguk mutters while pushing hard against him as if he’s trying to take every drop of energy from yoongi, “shut the hell up, hyung, give me what i need if we’re what you say we are, okay?”
as quickly as jeongguk’s lips are on yoongi’s, they’re gone again and jeongguk is crashing back down onto the bench, body thrumming with desire. he glares yoongi straight in the eye as he leans back, back, and licks his lips as he angles his chin upward. in one fluid motion, jeongguk’s hand comes down to grasp his own cock and he blinks at yoongi, a challenge evident in his eyes.
“if you’re not going to do anything for me, guess i’ll have to — ahh —" jeongguk’s eyes flutter closed as he pumps himself once, luxuriously, slick sounds filling the room, “— deal with this myself, shall i?”
yoongi acts quicker than he thinks. he surges forward, one hand wrestling jeongguk’s hand away, preventing him from touching himself, and another tugging the taekwondo black belt out of jeongguk’s uniform. he swiftly binds jeongguk’s wrists together with the fabric, tightly, as tight as he can make it. jeongguk cries out at the sudden force, the violent motion catching him by surprise as he’s turned around forcefully and tied up without any escape.
“now tell me ggukie,” the nickname takes on a new meaning as yoongi noses into jeongguk’s personal space and presses his lips to his cock once more, the humming coming from yoongi’s voice driving jeongguk crazy, “how are you going to deal with this yourself, now?”
“eat shit, yoongi-hyung,” jeongguk responds, but yoongi’s hands on the tattoo again sends him into spasms of ecstasy once more.
“you like it when i touch you here, hm?”
jeongguk wriggles, trying to move away from yoongi’s wandering hands. yoongi gives him a chuckle. “you can’t go anywhere, baby,” he tells jeongguk, fingers trailing over his chest, and gives a little tap to jeongguk’s nipple, chuckle turning into an amused one at the sharp ah! leaving the younger’s mouth. “sensitive, aren’t you?”
yoongi repeats the motion on jeongguk’s other nipple, but this time, his index finger stays there, pressing a little harder, before his thumb joins in to pinch the hard nub. he hears jeongguk suck in an urgent breath as the younger arches his back, pretty, pretty, pretty , mouth falling open, giving yoongi a loud wanton moan. yoongi likes that sound.
the black belt strains when jeongguk tugs, the bind yoongi did is tight, though, staying perfectly intact no matter how hard he tries to break free. “please,” he asks yoongi.
yoongi licks his lips, asks him back, “please what, bun?”
and oh, oh. jeongguk likes that. his skin breaks into goosebumps, and his body shudders, pretty eyes falling shut. he’s biting his lips. they’re wet, cherry-red in color. yoongi briefly wonders if they taste like cherries, too. he pinches a nipple, making jeongguk release his bottom lip in surprise, a moan tumbling out. yoongi surges forward, one hand cupping jeongguk’s face and he leans in to capture his lips. they don’t taste like cherries. yoongi thinks it seems more like hints of strawberries, or something along those lines.
so, he pulls away to ask, “do you wear strawberry chapstick?”, resulting in jeongguk making an exasperated face.
“is that even important right now? i’m literally hard and you’re asking me what chapstick flavour i wear? you need to step up your game, old man.”
this brat. yoongi slides his hands over jeongguk’s body, settling on his waist, where the tattoo of his own familiar hands resides. he rests his hands over it, grip steady, making jeongguk release a trembling breath. “are you really in a position to be acting up, baby?” he flexes his hands, playing with jeongguk’s body, relishing in the different moans he gets every time he presses just right.
jeongguk’s strangled, “n-no, please, hyung!” sounds like music to yoongi’s ears. he’s flushed, all the way down to his pretty chest, hard pink nubs inviting yoongi to put his mouth on them. he doesn’t, though, focusing on jeongguk’s waist instead.
“such a pretty tattoo you have here,” he comments. “i wonder why the hands look so familiar.” he smirks when jeongguk glares at him, retorting, “you already know why.”
“i want to hear you say it, though.”
yoongi waits for a few seconds, but jeongguk seems to be keen on keeping his mouth shut, so he just squeezes jeongguk’s waist. hard.
the resounding panicked, high-pitched yelp from jeongguk makes yoongi snicker. “you were saying?” he lets jeongguk catch a breath, releasing his iron-grip from the younger’s waist. yoongi’s thumbs hover over it still, not wanting to let go.
jeongguk’s pretty eyes are closed, not wanting to look at yoongi when he mumbles, slurring over the words in his embarrassment, “it’s because they’re y-yours.”
“see, that wasn’t so hard, gguk-ah.”
“that was a weak comeback.”
“you better use that mouth for greater purposes, old man, my dick’s not gonna—ngh! ”
the thing is, yoongi’s not only fast on taekwondo mats, he’s fast everywhere . one of his hands suddenly moves to touch jeongguk’s hard, blushing cock. he brushes the tip, which leaks more precome, making the body wet as it glistens under the light. jeongguk can’t finish his remark as the only things coming out of his mouth are keening whines and incoherent streams of pleasepleaseplease—but yoongi doesn’t care, keeps tapping jeongguk’s slit, loves to watch jeongguk fall apart beneath him, under his very own hands.
jeongguk’s knees spread out more, more , giving yoongi better access. he cries out, “hyung, please, please, touch me.” he’s not above begging at this point. yoongi has been edging him for more than thirty minutes.
yoongi growls. “look at you,” he breathes, “all spread out, pretty and pliant, all for me, hm?” he pumps jeongguk’s cock, hears jeongguk’s begs, sees how his toes curl, too lost in the pleasure he’s finally getting after so long.
but yoongi’s not going to give it to him that easily, not after how much jeongguk riled him up—so he stops, removing his hand from jeongguk’s cock. the younger’s hips cant up, chasing yoongi’s hands as a defeated wail leaves his lips. “hyung, you’re so mean.”
yoongi holds his thigh, giving it a little slap. “behave,” he warns.
“i’ll cry,” threatens jeongguk, and when yoongi looks at his face, it’s true, jeongguk’s eyes are glazed, pupils dilated, unfocused.
“you’re so cute, baby.” yoongi murmurs lowly. “but this is a punishment because you’ve been naughty before. so, you’re gonna be a good boy and take it.”
the elder leans down, presses a kiss to the tip of jeongguk’s cock, making some precome smears on his lips. he licks them, telling jeongguk, “you taste like strawberries, g ggukie.” not really, but jeongguk doesn’t have to know that—he’s too busy begging for yoongi to just fuck him anyway.
“c’mere,” yoongi beckons to jeongguk, but instantly realises that the younger definitely isn’t in a state to get up from his crumpled position. sighing, yoongi bends, unties jeongguk’s hands, and scoops him up bridal style, much to the astonishment of the younger. jeongguk lets out a squeak of protest as he’s lifted into the air and nestled in yoongi’s arms. “if you can’t move by yourself — how weak for me, hmm,” this earns a petulant whine from jeongguk, “then i’ll have to carry you out on my own. how tiresome.”
jeongguk struggles a little when yoongi starts striding out purposefully, but his head brushes against yoongi’s broad, defined chest and he quickly decides this isn’t a bad position to be in at all. he snuggles in deeper to yoongi’s embrace, nuzzling the side of his cheek against yoongi’s hard abs playfully and sighing blissfully as he’s met with resistance.
yoongi stops in his tracks, almost jolting jeongguk out of his grasp. jeongguk fairly screams and clings on to a shred of yoongi’s taekwondo uniform for dear life, exposing a sliver of his chest.
“hyung, hyung, be careful! i don’t want to die by bridal style drop! you almost released me.”
pouting, jeongguk pushes indignantly against yoongi’s chest, but yoongi stills again and a tremor goes through the older’s body. yoongi’s lips open and close, then when jeongguk elbows his glassy-eyed hyung in the chest again, yoongi responds with a choked-off moan, low and sensual, that shocks jeongguk so much that he almost falls off yoongi’s grasp of his own accord.
“quit it, guk-ah. fucking quit it right this instant,” yoongi grits out, his teeth clenched as his breath comes in erratic gasps. his face reddened with exertion, his eyes glazed over with yearning. “if you don’t — ah — want me to drop you, then stop.”
jeongguk realises his hand is still resting against yoongi’s chest, which is heaving very unevenly. a smirk spreads across his face and he increases the pressure from his hand, causing yoongi to bite into his lip so hard that it draws blood.
“stop what, hyung?” he giggles innocently, tapping yoongi’s chest once, twice, thrice and he sees the lust in yoongi’s eyes flame. “are you okay, yoongi-hyung? you seem very unhinged.”
“i’ll show you unhinged, brat. you know what you’re doing to me,” yoongi growls, before his legs give way underneath him and they sink onto the taekwondo mat, jeongguk still curled up in yoongi’s strong, lean arms.
yoongi’s taekwondo uniform rides up in the process, jeongguk cheekily grabs hold of one end of the uniform, leaving yoongi’s chest fully uncovered.
then jeongguk sees it. yoongi’s soulmate tattoo, the one that is an answer to his.
yoongi’s tattoo is fire.
fire, an inferno. blazing flames scorching across the left side of yoongi’s chest and dipping down to his midriff like the duck and weave of a dragon’s tail, the details of the fire so meticulous and beautiful. it suits yoongi, jeongguk thinks idly, how majestic the tattoo is, how elegantly it rests on his skin.
“ah,” jeongguk gazes up at yoongi with clear doe eyes, admiring. “so pretty, hyung. your tattoo is so pretty, just like you.”
gaining a surge of boldness, jeongguk crawls forward and leans in, pressing a fleeting kiss to the tip of one of the flames on yoongi’s chest. then another, and another, until he’s peppering yoongi’s exposed skin with heated butterfly kisses and the older fists his hands in jeongguk’s hair, letting out sinful moans of satisfaction.
“you’re bold, you know that gguk-ah? oh god — don’t stop — yes — just right there — you’re going to be the death of me, bun.” yoongi’s rambling now, hands locking around jeongguk’s body, and jeongguk’s tufty hair tickling his tattoo makes him feel a wave of want straight in his core. “you’re going to end me just like this, aren’t you?”
jeongguk smiles, eyes dropping purposefully to the growing bulge straining against yoongi’s pants. the younger moves wickedly and cups yoongi’s bulge with a hot palm, sending tremors pulsing relentlessly through yoongi’s groin.
“hyung, but i wanna ask you something,” jeongguk drawls sweetly, stopping momentarily in his ministrations.
“depends on whether it’s about me giving you your release, to which i’m going to say no until you stop teasing me with my tattoo.”
“no, not that,” jeongguk laughs a bit, amidst the haze of their desire. he looks up at yoongi, eyes all round and blinking cutely. “you know how they say soulmate tattoos represent stuff? like how your hands around my waist symbolise how much you love my waist because it’s so sexy.”
jeongguk winks, all pretenses of innocence and purity flying out the window as he darts his tongue out to wet his lips at that statement.
“if you don’t shut up and stop flirting i’m going to eat you whole, little one,” yoongi replies, unsure whether to laugh or cry at jeongguk’s blatant words.
“okay, okay! but yeah, as i was saying. the fire seems so… blackened and charred,” jeongguk’s finger touches yoongi’s skin lightly, following the morose curl of the fire around where yoongi’s heart beats. the younger’s finger rests there for a few seconds, feeling yoongi’s heart thump thump thump beneath his sensitive skin. “why is it like that? it seems like a sad fire. not at all bright and glowing.”
and yoongi finally knows what jeongguk is trying to get at. the fire is subdued. it burns in a ring around his heart area, crushing him. giving him pause. yoongi knows exactly why the tattoo manifested in that way. because once upon a time, the fire burned so majestically, until one day when the fire died out, changing into a twisted, saddened form.
yoongi’s face darkens, his jaw locking. jeongguk sees, and he swallows in trepidation as yoongi’s eyes flash irritably.
“stop asking questions, brat. you’d be better off not saying a word at all.”
there’s a glossy sheen to yoongi’s downcast eyes which jeongguk can’t miss. yoongi’s head is lowered, his eyes not meeting jeongguk’s, the set of his mouth thin and firm.
jeongguk’s heart drops in dismay, and he inches forward, hand coming to grasp yoongi’s palm delicately, intertwining their fingers in an effort to calm yoongi down. he inhales in shock when yoongi retracts his hand like he’s been burned. the rejection tastes bitter in jeongguk’s throat and he speaks softly, throat clogged with sudden unhappiness.
“hyung, ‘m sorry, very sorry. didn’t mean to ask you a sensitive question. please don’t cry, hyung. please. i don’t want you to be sad, okay?”
he reaches up and brushes the corner of yoongi’s eyes, catching the tears that are threatening to fall.
yoongi jerks away from jeongguk’s tentative hands, turning his face to the side. he tries not to think too much about it, about why the tattoo on his chest is of fire, of flames. how it’s a symbol of pain, scorched into his chest, an everlasting memory of how his soulmate—jeongguk—hurt him.
“i’m sorry, hyung, i didn’t me—” jeongguk starts again, only to get cut off harshly by yoongi’s “drop it, jeongguk-ah.”
this makes the younger recoil, like yoongi’s slapped him across the face. yoongi cringes internally, thinking, was i too harsh? but he sucks it up, clenches his jaw, and shakes his head to clear his mind from the muddiness of the pain.
even though yoongi’s told him to, jeongguk won’t drop it. the younger tries to look into yoongi’s eyes and murmurs, “but, hyung—”
yoongi snaps, voice booming out loud, reverberating off the walls. “i said drop it! ”
he realises belatedly how hard he’s breathing. it’s hard to ignore the throbbing pain in his heart when the source of said pain is in front of him, is his own goddamn soulmate, jeongguk.
jeongguk, who’s beginning to shake, eyes screwed shut as his hands cover his ears. yoongi notices the younger’s shoulders trembling fast, breathing quickly to try calm himself down. seeing him like this, yoongi feels like he’s been shot in the heart, feels like a jerk for hurting jeongguk. he lets out a low, ragged fuck, runs his hands over his face, and approaches his soulmate.
“baby,” he starts, softly. jeongguk still has his eyes closed. “i’m so—hyung is so sorry,” rambles yoongi, licking his lips, nervous. “i didn’t mean to yell at you, bunny, please look at me?”
jeongguk does, slowly, unsure, like he’s scared that yoongi will shout at him again. yoongi gets closer and closer, until he kneels down next to jeongguk. “i’m sorry for saying all of that. here, baby, let hyung take care of you, okay? just relax for me.” he presses kisses along jeongguk’s cheek and neck and the edges of his eyes, catching the pearly tears that roll down and tasting saltwater on his lips, rough, chapped, painful.
“h-hyung,” jeongguk chokes out, “just wanna make sure you’re okay with this. okay with us… making love to each other. i won’t say anything if you don’t want me to. i know we’re not on the best of terms right now, but you—” he catches himself, swallowing down a hiccup. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry if i’m not the soulmate you wante—”
“gguk-ah!” yoongi’s gaze flashes in alarm and he bends down to capture jeongguk’s lips, shushing him, not letting him finish that thought. they don’t taste like strawberries anymore. it makes the tattoo on yoongi’s chest burn, as if the flames rose up to live, searing him with agony. “ggukie, baby, of course i want you. the universe gave you to me, and you shall be mine, like how everything should be, like how it was destined. now be a good boy and just turn around for me, okay? hyung will make you feel good, and that’s a promise.”
jeongguk lets out a quiet sob, nods, and obliges, getting on his hands and knees, while yoongi runs to the cupboard for the necessities, and grabs a tub of aloe vera gel—intended for burns and scratches—while he tries not to think about how it might scar him after this if he ever has to use it.
“you still good for this, baby?” he places a hand on jeongguk’s lower back, adding as an afterthought, “so patient for me, huh, ggukie? waiting obediently while i get the lube.” yoongi sees jeongguk answer him with a nod, and he tuts. “words, bun. or we stop right here.”
“please!” jeongguk almost yells, panicked. “i don’t want to stop. i want you, hyung.”
“good, because i also want you too. now hyung will prep you first, okay? so it won’t hurt.”
“m’kay, hyung. gentle, please?”
“of course, baby.” yoongi twists the lid of the tub open, scooping a significant amount out. it’s enough to coat his fingers, making them shiny and wet. he warms it up a little in his hands, before spreading jeongguk’s cheeks and prodding a finger into his rim.
jeongguk keens, flinching away from yoongi. “cold!” he cries out, and yoongi replies with a sheepish sorry . “what are you using, hyung?” jeongguk asks, curious, glancing around so he can look at yoongi.
“uh,” grabbing the tub with his clean hand, yoongi shows it to jeongguk. “aloe vera gel?” jeongguk blinks, then turns his head towards the front only to throw it back in a chorus of amused giggles. yoongi puts the tub down, letting out a chuckle of his own, relieved at how jeongguk seems to feel better already. “what?” he drawls the question out, sensing his cheeks grow hot, fuck—he’s blushing.
“wow,” says jeongguk, amusement clear in his voice. “you know your stuff.”
“shut up, brat.” yoongi retorts. “i had to find something, okay, wouldn’t want you to hurt.”
“shutting up.” wiggling his ass, jeongguk tells yoongi, “can you put your fingers in me now? i’ve been waiting for too long, hyung. i might be as old as you when we g—”
inserting his index finger into jeongguk’s hole, yoongi effectively shuts jeongguk up. he goes slow, pushing in and out for a while. when he feels jeongguk opening up more, he adds a second finger, keeping an eye out for any signs of discomfort from jeongguk. when there’s none, he asks, “good?” to which jeongguk replies with a breathy, “ah, yes, hyung. please move.”
yoongi moves his fingers, slowly at first. when he can feel jeongguk starting to loosen up and pushing back to meet yoongi’s thrusts, he speeds up, scissoring his fingers to prepare jeongguk nicely. when he adds a third finger, jeongguk lets out a soft whimper, “ngh,” and he collapses, chest colliding with the blue mat below, face buried in his crossed arms, ass still up, held firmly by yoongi’s strong hands. he chokes out, “hurts,” when yoongi keeps pushing in.
“god, you’re so tight,” comments yoongi, stopping to let jeongguk relax, one of his hands releases the grip on jeongguk’s hip to run circles over jeongguk’s ass. “relax, bun,” he tells jeongguk, “relax for hyung. you’re good.”
jeongguk takes a shaky breath, exhales, and tells yoongi, “it’s—it’s been quite a long time.” he rests his lips on his forearms, so his words come out muddled. yoongi hums idly, urging him to continue. “just—don’t really have time.” a small sigh, then—“and don’t really have someone,” the younger adds. “can we just—don’t wanna talk about it, hyung. want your cock in me.”
all the talking seems to have calmed jeongguk, at least. groaning, yoongi moves his fingers again, faster, eager to grant jeongguk’s very wish. jeongguk’s body goes slack under yoongi’s touch, and soon, yoongi pulls his fingers out to grab his own cock, getting a whine in return.
“what, i thought you wanted my cock in you?” he can’t help but tease, grinning when jeongguk mumbles a whiny, “hyung. ” yoongi scoops out some more lube, slicking it over his cock, letting out a low hiss at how good it feels already.
“i’m gonna put my cock in you, ggukie,” is all the warning yoongi gives jeongguk, before lining the head of his lubed cock up jeongguk’s rim, and thrusting in. he feels more than hears jeongguk’s gasp as he throws his head back, red-bitten mouth agape. even from behind, yoongi thinks he’s pretty. yoongi thinks jeongguk’s pretty everywhere. he keeps sliding in until the hilt, letting out a groan of pleasure of his own, hips flush to jeongguk’s ass, and waits for jeongguk’s signal.
it takes jeongguk a few minutes to adjust to yoongi’s girth, then he nods and tells yoongi, “you can move, hyung.”
yoongi gives him a couple of short thrusts, feeling jeongguk’s heat. he moans, “you feel so good around me, baby.” jeongguk replies with a wanton moan, legs spreading, knees already beginning to shake. yoongi grabs his hips, pulling jeongguk back to meet his thrusts. he pounds, harder, faster. he can’t get enough of jeongguk’s wet and tight heat sucking him in. jeongguk keens, only able to let out broken ah-ah-ahs from how hard yoongi’s fucking him.
“we should be quick, because we don’t want people to come in and see us like this, hm, baby?” yoongi spreads his hands all over jeongguk’s perky ass, grabbing them and giving them a little squeeze.
the elder doesn’t miss the little shudder jeongguk’s body gives, so he says, “oh, you like that?” smirking, he reaches out to grip jeongguk’s leaking, hard cock. “you want your friends to see you like this, huh? all pliant and wet for me. what would they say when they found out that the best student of namjoon-gwanjang was reduced to no more than a whiny mess under his very own rival, hm?”
and it’s true, jeongguk is reduced to no more than a whiny mess, body shaking in pleasure, fluffy hair all mussed up and messy. broken little moans keep tumbling out of his mouth, punched out of him by the force of yoongi’s thrusts.
“ah!” jeongguk gasps at a precise snap of yoongi’s hips, letting him know that he’s found the younger’s prostate. yoongi feels a smirk curling on his lips. “there?” he doesn’t wait for jeongguk’s answer, immediately pulling out only to thrust back in, dead on jeongguk’s prostate, again, again, again, satisfaction fueling him from hearing jeongguk’s groans and moans which are getting more and more high-pitched.
“please,” jeongguk begs, “i’m gonna come if you keep—ngh!—doing that, hyung!” he sounds panicked, leaning on his elbows now, hands scrambling on the mat, trying to grab something to no avail. his nails leave marks on the mat. yoongi hopes no one will notice them tomorrow.
“you can come if you want, baby.” yoongi goes faster, and the sound of his hips colliding with jeongguk’s ass is loud, resounding in the practice room. idly, yoongi thinks jeongguk might have purple bruises blooming on his ass by tomorrow. he moans, feeling himself getting closer to release. “been so good for me, huh, ggukie? good bunny.”
jeongguk sobs, back arching beautifully. he throws his head back, and the moans that escape his hot, parted lips are frantic and filled with pleasure, “ ah—yoongi-hyung, i’m coming—” and he is, hard, legs spasming as he’s flooded with sudden bliss, cock jerking and spilling all over the taekwondo mat. as jeongguk rides out the ecstasy of his release, his hole clenches, the hot and wet heat making yoongi let out a choked groan. yoongi slaps jeongguk’s ass once, crying out as he comes inside him.
shuddering with the aftershocks of his orgasm, yoongi pulls out, letting go of jeongguk’s hips and setting him on the ground as gently as he can. the younger slides on the blue mat, utterly spent. yoongi lies beside jeongguk, turning the younger over to face him. “so?” he asks, after he lets them both catch their breaths. “so?” jeongguk returns cheekily. yoongi’s eyes widen, blinking, and he lets out a surprised snicker. “you are such a brat,” he scolds, getting a small giggle in return.
“sorry not sorry,” jeongguk smiles wickedly. “your dick was very amazing, yoongi-hyung. is that the answer you wanted?”
“i mean, you could do without the call out, but, yes.” sidling closer, one of yoongi’s hands lifts to remove a strand of hair from jeongguk’s eyes. “i’m glad my dick made you feel good.” they both laugh, and yoongi adds, “you made me feel very good, too, baby, thank you.”
closing his eyes, jeongguk blindly reaches out for yoongi’s hand, tangling them together. he smiles, mumbling, “i’m really glad you’re my soulmate, hyung.”
that comment from jeongguk, knowing it comes from the bottom of his heart, makes yoongi sigh contentedly. the flames on his chest crackle, this time not with agony, but with the warmth of love, love, love. “so am i, gguk-ah.”
jeongguk snickers, and it’s a silvery sound that brings a rush of warmth surging into yoongi’s heart.
“hyung, i still can’t believe this was the way we finally found out, through our largest taekwondo match of all times.”
“i mean, that just shows how we’re destined, no?”
yoongi’s overwhelmed with a sudden wave of affection as the tips of his fingers trail lovingly down jeongguk’s still-warm, lightly flushed cheeks. mine, he thinks smugly, the gossamer of jeongguk’s skin pleasing under his touch. mine and mine only. he bends down, wanting to taste the sweet dips and curves of jeongguk’s face, and presses kisses everywhere. light ones on jeongguk’s temples, left and right. heavier ones, mouthing along his jawline and neck, into the hollow of his collarbone, the occasional nips of yoongi’s teeth eliciting gasps from jeongguk that sound so adorable to yoongi’s ears. mine, mine, mine. yoongi leans down to finally capture the younger’s plush lips in his, tasting the residual notes of desire on jeongguk’s mouth and teeth and tongue. did you know the hands on your waist mean that you’re mine?
yoongi knows that there’s a lot for them to work on. the fire on his chest, for example. the fire that seems to spark when yoongi pulls away and cups jeongguk’s cheeks tenderly in his hands, relishing the way jeongguk gazes up at him with soft eyes. but also the fire that needs to be explained, the long-buried pain inside yoongi’s chest that needs to be uncovered once again.
but for now, yoongi is content to let jeongguk lie in his arms, fragile, curled up like everything he’s ever wanted, like all the nights in each other’s embraces they have missed out on so far. and somewhere in the distance, a fire ignites.
“is this okay?”
“very okay, yoongi-hyung,” an exhale of breath, sweet and yearning. yoongi’s hands drift down to hold jeongguk’s supple waist once more. “we’re going to be okay.”