“Wait, wait, wait, stop.”
Yoongi pulls away from the kiss to find his hookup—Taehyung—looking away from him, distracted. “What is it?”
“I can’t do this.”
“Oh.” Yoongi stops all movement and tries to shift away, but it’s a bit difficult with Taehyung practically pinning him to the mattress with his full weight. “Okay, if you don’t want to do this—”
Taehyung shakes his head, and his hips make a small grinding motion against Yoongi’s crotch, both of them gasping at the friction. “No, I want to, I just can’t—not with your cat staring at us.”
When they stumbled through the door, kissing and tugging at each other’s clothes, Hana was nowhere to be seen, but now that Yoongi glances to the side, he finds her sitting not two meters away on the coffee table, staring at them with wide, unblinking eyes. He sighs. “It’s a one-room apartment, so—there’s not really much I can do about it? Just ignore her.”
Yoongi tries to reel Taehyung back into a kiss, but Taehyung scrunches his nose and props himself up on his elbows, his eyes still on Hana. “No but she’s like… judging me. Can’t you put her in the bathroom?” He sounds whiny.
Yoongi sighs again. “I’ve tried that. Unless you enjoy having sex to the soundtrack of a cat screaming bloody murder and scratching at the bathroom door, I wouldn’t recommend it.”
There’s a pause, then Taehyung casts a measuring glance at the aforementioned bathroom door. “Well. We could go in there instead.”
Which is how Yoongi ends up braced against the washing machine in his small-as-hell bathroom, while Taehyung fucks into him from behind. It’s ridiculous, because his spacious and perfectly adequate bed is right there, but it also makes the situation more intimate. Hotter, somehow.
Taehyung lets out a breathless chuckle and sinks in again with a groan, fingers tightening on Yoongi’s hips. “You know, this almost feels like we’re sneaking around, doing something forbidden,” he murmurs with his lips against the side of Yoongi’s neck.
Yoongi hates how much the idea turns him on. He bites back a moan and rocks against Taehyung’s cock. “Oh yeah? That turn you on or something?” he quips.
Another breathless huff. “It kind of does.” Taehyung’s lips are on Yoongi's ear now. “Imagine if you had to be—” He pulls back, “—absolutely—” then sinks back in, “—quiet. Like—ah—not a sound.”
This time, Yoongi can’t help the moan that escapes his lips. “Fuck.”
“What?” The smirk on Taehyung’s face is practically audible. “That turn you on or something?”
“Shut up and fuck me,” Yoongi counters.
“Shh, they can hear us,” Taehyung whispers, which is just unnecessary teasing, but thankfully he also does as he’s told, rocking into Yoongi again, this time with more force. The next thrust slides right into his prostate, and Yoongi would crumple against the washing machine if it wasn’t for Taehyung’s hands on his hips.
“Ah, shit—” Sparks explode across Yoongi’s field of vision as Taehyung continues pressing right into that sweet spot on each inward movement. “Fuck, that’s good.” He wraps his hand around his cock and starts jerking himself off in time with Taehyung’s thrusts.
“You gonna come all over your washing machine, while we’re hiding in the bathroom, fucking?” Taehyung’s tone would be irritating if he didn’t also sound so far gone.
“Yeah,” Yoongi grits out. “Maybe I am.”
“Fuck, why is that so hot?” Taehyung gasps, his movements picking up speed. “And I’m gonna—come into you, fucking you—against your washer—in your bathroom, shit.” He’s getting louder now, voice raspy, rumbling deep in his chest.
“Weren’t we supposed to be quiet?” Yoongi asks. He tries to sound snarky but it’s hard when his hand is sliding up and down his cock and Taehyung is pounding into him, breaths falling heavy and ragged on his skin, and he’s starting to feel the tingling sensation that precedes an orgasm.
Taehyung’s responding chuckle sounds more like a groan. “Fuck, that’s hot. You’re hot. So close—”
Yoongi looks down at his hand around his cock, and the tingling sensation turns into pinpricks and heat washing through his body, muscles tightening in his core. He’s sweaty all over, and the slap of skin on skin is loud in the quiet of the bathroom. Taehyung’s cock keeps driving into him, the slide of it so good, and Yoongi almost doubles over when he slides his fist over his cock one last time and comes, spilling on top of his washing machine.
A few more thrusts and Taehyung’s rhythm falters, repeated gasps of ah-ah-ah rasped against the nape of Yoongi’s neck, and then he shudders and stills, pulsing inside Yoongi. Taehyung is breathing hard, pressing his forehead between Yoongi’s shoulder blades. “Whoa.”
Yoongi’s thighs tremble, body slumping as he comes down from his orgasm. Taehyung twitches subtly in him, one hand loosely grasping his hip, the other snaking around his body to pull him closer. Taehyung’s chest heaves against Yoongi’s spine, their sweat-slick skins sticking together.
For a moment it’s silent aside from their erratic breaths.
Then a pathetic meowing noise and the sound of the door being scratched from the outside makes them pull apart. Taehyung slips out of Yoongi, huffing out a laugh.
“Hana,” Yoongi mutters, glaring at the closed door. “Stop being a drama queen.” He straightens, slightly wobbly on his feet, and turns to Taehyung who’s in the process of tying the condom and discarding it in the trash. “She can hear us and she hates feeling left out.”
Taehyung looks up, clearly amused, and then steps closer to capture Yoongi’s mouth in a kiss, slow and searing. “Well,” he mutters against Yoongi’s lips. “Maybe we can do this another time at my place? I don’t have demanding pets but I have a prying roommate we could hide from.” He pulls away to give Yoongi a wink and a cheesy grin. “And then we’d actually have to be quiet.”
Yoongi’s cock gives an interested little twitch, and he smashes their lips together again. “I hate how much I like the idea of that.”
Taehyung laughs into the kiss. “So that’s a yes, then?”
Yoongi reaches around and behind, slapping Taehyung’s ass. It’s a nice ass. “Maybe? But first you have to meet the queen and get her approval.” He motions at the door.
Taehyung exaggerates a terrified face. “Oh, shit. I’m screwed, aren’t I?”
Yoongi grins. “Maybe next time.”