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Why is it that things always take a turn for the unexpected when Taehyung is involved? Then again, three months and Yoongi really shouldn't be surprised anymore. Taehyung has a penchant for the unexpected and to be completely honest, Yoongi doesn't mind. He might even concede to liking it if you catch him at an odd hour, when he's still drunk enough on sleep to admit that he likes the taste of Taehyung's smile, or the electricity of skin on skin as they brush passed each other on the courts. It's no secret that Yoongi dotes on Taehyung the most of all the first years; it's not like the upperclassmen are ever too discreet about their favoritism, really, but it's become an ongoing joke that Yoongi only ever cares about Taehyung.

Only partially true, if the late-night sexcapades are any measure.

But no one needs to know about that.

"You fucking dropped the key," Yoongi says, feeling the dark constrict around him. He's no stranger to the dark but there's something about small spaces that makes him feel like the world might be closing in. He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. Even in the forced darkness behind his eyelids, he can feel Taehyung grinning that blasted grin of his, the half-embarrassed, half imploring one that melts at his nerves so for the love of him, Yoongi can't get angry.

"Your ass was distracting me," Taehyung says, "Jimin's exercises really do--"

"Oh my god," Yoongi cards a hand through his hair as his eyes snap open. The storeroom is old and dark, but surprisingly clean. Jimin and Jungkook were on cleaning duty last week for all the headaches they caused Namjoon and they're nothing if not overzealous.

"Really!" Taehyung says, insistent. Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose and leans back on an upturned ball cart. It's just tall enough for him to sit on.

The silence gathers around them and Yoongi peers up at Taehyung (screw the first years and their damn height) through one eye and watches him rock on the balls of his feet, chewing on his lips. He would look pitiful if not for the alarming blush spreading across his cheeks.

"What are you thinking?" Yoongi asks, voice cautious, both eyes open now, sizing Taehyung up. Instead of answering, Taehyung points towards a shelf behind Yoongi and he turns around, following the line of Taehyung's finger. It lands on a plastic package, round and bulging. Yoongi squints, leaning towards the whatever-the-fuck-it-is before he makes out the words and jerks back.

"Holy shit."

"Yep," Taehyung says, almost laughing, letting the 'p' pop over his lips.

"I'm going to kill Jimin and Jungkook."

"For what? Dropping a travel-sized lube pack? I'd like to think that's serendipity."

Yoongi whips around and squints. Serendipity my ass, he thinks, Taehyung might as well have planned all this shit ahead of time. Lost the damn key on purpose. But before he has time to retort, Taehyung is leaning in, a hand curling around the back of Yoongi's neck, his lips already too close to the skin of Yoongi's collarbones, breathing out in a way that has Yoongi losing his.


Taehyung pauses. And pulls back.

"You don't want to?" He asks, sounding so injured Yoongi wants to slap himself for being the cause. He can't stand it when Taehyung's like this; it makes him feel like he's just kicked a puppy, or some other equally small and helpless animal though he knows that Taehyung is neither small nor helpless. Far from. Very far from.


Yoongi chews on his lips, heaving a deep breath. He softens.

"I... I didn't say--"

"Good," Taehyung says, brightening immediately, leaning forward to catch a patch of Yoongi's skin, fingers already treading through his hair, tugging ever so gently to tip his head back for better access. Protests, if there were any to begin with, die on Yoongi's lips as he swallows and closes his eyes, resigning to the heat of Taehyung's touch, the constant reassurance of his presence. Say what you might, but as eager to please a Taehyung is, he is all quiet dominance in matters of the bedroom variety (though Yoongi could probably count on one hand the number of times beds were actually involved; Taehyung likes to experiment), and Yoongi is all too happy to let go for just a while, to be pressed back into whatever surface is available at the time, close his eyes and enjoy the ride, so to speak.

And boy oh boy what a ride he gets to enjoy.

By the time Yoongi reels his mind back in enough to focus, Taehyung has got a hand up his jersey, finger flicking over his nipple in a way that has Yoongi gasping, body tensing from the sensation. Taehyung grins into his neck and keeps at it, tongue lapping at Yoongi's jugular, teeth skimming the skin there enough to bruise. Taehyung likes bruises; Yoongi doesn't mind them much either. They're really not as terrible as people paint them out to be--they could either be marks of hard work, long hours, experience earned (volleyball is a sport of many bruises) or something on the other side of secrets whispering in the dark, perhaps behind closed doors, perhaps even in storage closets with dropped keys.

Yoongi groans as Taehyung's hand skims down his stomach and pauses at the elastic of his shorts. His hips buck up of their own accord but Taehyung's palm keeps him flat-pressed against the overturned ball cart. A whine works its way from Yoongi's throat and he feels Taehyung giggling into the crook of his neck.

"You always act like you're not down," he says, tutting as he pulls back, leaning in for a kiss. Yoongi huffs, curling a hand around Taehyung's collar to pull him down, nipping at his lower lip. Taehyung groans and presses in closer. Yoongi shifts against Taehyung, their bodies had long since grown accustom to each other; Yoongi can feel Taehyung half hard against his thigh and grins through the kiss. It always gives him the utmost satisfaction to know that he does this to Taehyung and no one else.

"And you're always so eager," Yoongi says, pulling back just far enough to tug the jersey from Taehyung's back. They make quick work of their clothes, gasping at the friction and finally of skin on skin, remembering and re-remembering the last time, and the time before that, and the countless times before that, because bodies always remember more than minds do. They grow to know other bodies as minds might never.

"Only when it comes to you," Taehyung says, lightly, pulling away to give Yoongi a peck. The words sizzle against Yoongi's skin, making him boil right from the pit of his stomach up to the crown of his head. He goes lightheaded and almost whines out loud when Taehyung pulls away. Taehyung just grins and leans over to pluck the packet of lube up from the ground and finds a clean towel to wipe it on, ripping the plastic between his teeth. Yoongi swallows, mouth dry, eyes half-lidded, fighting the urge to grab Taehyung down for another kiss. Even here, even now, his pride mandates that he keep his facade of aloofness (he can't just break character halfway through; he's got a reputation to upkeep), biting back the need and urgency.

Taehyung leans in to catch Yoongi's lips, fingers working between his asscheeks, teasing, always teasing. Yoongi nips at Taehyung's lips.

"You're an ass."

"Nope, but yours is really nice," Taehyung counters without missing a beat, pressing his fingers into Yoongi and crooking them in a way that has Yoongi's head tipping back, knees locking. Taehyung contents himself with a pace that borders on excruciating, humming as he watches Yoongi squirm.

"F-fuck you."

"Nope again," Taehyung says, laughing and leaning forward to suck at the skin of Yoongi's shoulder, "That's all you," and then he adds another finger and Yoongi really is whimpering, his hips working up in tandem to Taehyung's fingers, his own cock painfully hard and unattended to.

"Hurry the fuck up," Yoongi says, hips jerking up as Taehyung brushes against his cock. His cheeks are too red and he thanks the Based God that the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling blew out months ago and no one has had the mind to replace it yet.

"Alright, alright," Taehyung says, still jovial enough to be talking about play tactics or the next day's lunch menu (two of his favorite things, next to Yoongi of course), slipping his fingers from Yoongi and reaching down into the pocket of his discarded shorts for his wallet.

"You keep condoms in your wallet?" Yoongi asks, a little more breathless than he would have liked but at this point, that's all really, really, really irrelevant.

"You don't?" Taehyung asks, quirking an eyebrow, ripping the package with a practiced motion, slipping it over his own dick and leaning in for a kiss. "Gotta be prepared for any and all situations, no?" he says, grinning against Yoongi's lips and he fits himself against Yoongi and pushes in with a soft grunt. Yoongi was going to say something, he swears he had the words right on his tongue, but for the love of all that is unholy he can't remember anymore. Not with Taehyung stretching out so slow and well like this. Not with Taehyung's clipped gasps and soft little moans dripping down his shoulder like this. Not with the scorching, scalding heat of Taehyung being so damn close, close enough to burn.


Taehyung murmurs something in agreement, snapping his hips forward, once, twice; Yoongi bites down hard on his own lips to stop from keening. This shit echoes. He would know; he gives it wide berth whenever Jimin and Jungkook go missing for more than half an hour together (Jungkook isn't called the energizer rabbit for nothing, and yes Jimin does in fact lift, not just weights either).

Yoongi curls his fingers into the muscles on Taehyung's back, grappling for purchase as Taehyung settles into a comfortable pace, not too fast, not too slow, just enough to keep the both of them going. The upturned cart grounds against the floor, shifting a few inches back as Yoongi locks his ankles around Taehyung's waist, forcing him to speed up and now Yoongi doesn't try so hard to mask his sounds of pleasure.

Taehyung's palms are squeezing at his thighs, one hand traveling up in between them to palm at Yoongi's dick. He jerks and has to bury his head in the crook of Taehyung's neck to keep from yelping out loud. He works his hips up in tandem to Taehyung's thrusts and feels Taehyung shudder as he tightens around him.

"Ah-ah--" Yoongi is breathing too hard, too hard, his eyes squeezing shut as Taehyung jerks his head back for an open-mouthed kiss, licking right into Yoongi's mouth, sucking softly on his tongue. Taehyung's thumb presses against Yoongi's slit and he shudders, clenching around Taehyung hard enough for Taehyung to yelp. It gives Yoongi a simmering satisfaction that he can meld Taehyung any way he likes to, if he chooses to do it. He knows that Taehyung would just as willingly play follower as he does leader, and that's why they work so well. They bend but never break (not themselves at least), leaning about each other’s bodies, every dip and shift, every hush and gasp, till they are experts at breaking each other.

"How long--do you think--it'll take them--to--find--us?" Taehyung asks between breaths, pulling back just far enough to press their foreheads, rutting Yoongi straight into the ball basket with a lopsided grin on his face.

"D-dunno--mm!!" Yoongi's head tips back as Taehyung's hand grabs his ass and shifts it up, dick hitting his prostate hard enough for Yoongi's lips to fall open. There. Taehyung grins and keeps Yoongi lifted, bracing himself over Yoongi's body as he thrusts back in--thump, thump, thump goes the cart against the wall behind. Anyone with in a 20feet vicinity could have no doubt as to what's going on but that's a worry for another day.

"C'mon," Taehyung says, palm slicking up and down Yoongi's dick, thumb pressing hard against his slit, wetting his entire head with the pre-cum leaking out. Yoongi glares at him through lidded eyes before Taehyung pulls him back up for another kiss, hand jerking him off so hard and fast that Yoongi really does cry out as he comes, painting Taehyung's stomach in ropes of sticky white.

"Fuck-fuck-fuck," Taehyung buries his face in Yoongi's shoulder, teeth clamping down, his fingers digging into Yoongi's ass as his hips jerk out of tandem, faster and faster till Yoongi feels him swelling inside him, the heat filling him in the most pleasant of ways. Taehyung's hips jitter to a stop, leaving the both of them floating in a bubble of breathless heat, heads still spinning, bodies buzzing, still too high-strung for coherence.

Yoongi's muscles feel so melted he might never move again, but that won't do--they have a game this Saturday.

"Think people heard us?" Taehyung asks, voice muffled by Yoongi's shoulder.

Yoongi lets out a soft laugh, "The fuck are they gonna do if they did?"

Taehyung laughs, pulling back to nuzzle at Yoongi's nose. Yoongi grins despite himself.

"Nothing, probably. You'd have their asses if they tried anything, not literally of course, only I'm allowed to do that--" Taehyung rambles on till Yoongi has the good sense to cut him off with another kiss.

"You're too damn talkative."

Taehyung just smiles and hums against Yoongi's lips.

They are halfway through with putting their clothes back on when a sharp rap comes at the door, followed by the unmistakable jingle of a key in the keyhole.

"I swear to god it's in here," Jungkook's voice says from the other side of the door. Jimin's voice follows after.

"I can't believe you dropped the last packet of--"

The door swings open and Jungkook freezes, looking as if it were him and Jimin who had just been caught in the supply closet with their clothes half on. Taehyung just grins, scratching at the back of his head as Yoongi adjusts his shirt and shorts with a noncommittal grunt, as if they hadn't just had sex with the packet of lube that Jungkook and Jimin seem to be looking for.

"Senpai--" Jungkook blinks too fast, cheeks flushing.

"Hell yeah Taehyung," Jimin says, leaning over with a shit-eating grin on his face, a hand raised up for a high-five. Taehyung claps him a good one with a matching grin as Yoongi scoffs, ducking under Taehyung's arm and pushing passed the pair of first years.

"Sorry about your lube," he says, waving over his shoulder, "Upperclassman privileges."

He grins at the sounds of Jungkook sputtering behind him, the loud cackle of Taehyung's laughter, and turns the corner, leaving the three first years to bustle it out amongst themselves because right now, Yoongi needs what he always needs after really great sex, or at any point in time, really--a great, long nap, and maybe a cup of the Min's.

And it'll be a day well spent.

Serendipity indeed