Work Text:
It’s not like the sex is the problem.
Well…it kind of is.
Okay.
Let’s rewind.
Yoongi’s hips piston into the tight heat that engulfs him, eagerly chasing for more with each fraction of a second that he pulls out. Deep in the throes of a scene like this, he’s so entrenched in his headspace that it turns every sensation rippling across the surface of his skin into something lethal. His perception is charged with an elevated level of intensity; he’s immersed in his role.
In this moment in time, he isn’t just another straight-laced, nameless, faceless accountant that barely registers on his co-workers’ radars. He isn’t the average joe that orders the same plain order – black, no sugar, no creamer – from the local coffee house just two blocks down. He isn’t the guy his doorman doesn’t even know the name of despite his having lived in the building for the better part of two years. He isn’t just anybody.
Right here, right now: he is Min Yoongi. Proper Noun.
A dominant with a responsibility.
The way a scene provides him with control and significance soothes the bone-aching burden he picks up during the week. Suffering through meaningless days puts a strain on his mind – there comes a point where one has to wonder where lies the purpose of it all.
He finds that purpose in the arch of Taehyung’s back, sloping and elegantly supple underneath his hungry hands,
He finds that purpose in the malleable flesh of Taehyung’s inner thighs, blooming like his own personal garden of greens and violets and yellow,
He finds that purpose in the pitch of Taehyung’s cries and pleads, as warbling and melodious as they are pathetic,
He finds that purpose in Taehyung’s submission.
Yoongi’s got Taehyung’s wrists clutched tightly above his head, rendering him completely and totally at Yoongi’s mercy – and Yoongi shows none. He fucks into him with expert strokes, each thrust a push closer and closer to both of their impending orgasms; he can feel the telltale clenching at the pit of his gut, can see the twitch in Taehyung’s thighs, the way he gnaws his bottom lip in anticipation, he’s so close, just a couple more seconds and he’s going to-
“Th-this all you got…huh?” It puffs out past Taehyung’s lips in a struggling pant as he attempts to speak stably.
Yoongi’s impending climax immediately ebbs. Warning bells sound distantly in his head; Taehyung’s bratty streak has always been a bit of a thing, but only recently has it surpassed its status as something-they’re-keeping-an-eye-on and moved straight into something-they’re actively-trying-to-work-on territory. They’ve talked about it before, and not because Yoongi is uncomfortable with brat-taming, because that’s just not what it is.
It’s…more than that. He’s hesitant even to label the behavior “bratty” in the first place.
Because, truthfully?
Taehyung gets…
Sadistic.
“Been – ngh! – been at it for a while ‘nd I still haven’t g-got off…do better, yeah?” The way he says it is – condescending? He’s looking Yoongi in the eye and smiling, telling him to “ do better.” It’s jarring. It throws Yoongi off his pace, hips stuttering where they’re now struggling to meet Taehyung’s ass. He tightens his hold on Taehyung’s wrists.
“Behave.”
“No,” Taehyung moans wantonly, “R-really. Could go out ‘nd find anyone for a fuck like this. ‘S jus’ sad. You-“
“Red.”
Before he’s even finished the syllable, Taehyung is shaking his hands free and using them to pull himself up on the bed; Yoongi slips out of him easily. They both sit like that for a minute, facing each other on opposite ends of the comforter.
Silence overtakes the room.
Yoongi kneads the fabric below him in a nervous tic he has yet to stamp down.
“Is it okay if I touch you?”
“Yeah, go ahead.”
Gentle hands crawl towards his own and ease them out of their fitful fidgeting with the sheets. Slowly, his fingers come to a stop underneath the comforting weight of Taehyung’s own. It takes him a minute to collect his thoughts before he speaks; he’s not exactly panicked, or overly upset, but he’s not…happy. He’s more than a little uncomfortable. And that is always cause for stopping a scene in its tracks.
He doesn’t feel any guilt, either. He and Taehyung have been screwing around for so long that he doesn’t feel bad about putting himself and his needs first. If he were to ask, he knows that Taehyung feels the same, both for himself and for Yoongi. When he allows himself to look up into Taehyung’s eyes, he finds concern etched into those familiar features.
Yoongi doesn’t give him the chance to do any coddling. “I don’t like that.”
The other man seems mystified by what he’s just said. “W-what? You don’t like me holding your hands, anymore?” His grip slackens on Yoongi’s fingers.
“The degradation, Taehyung. I’m not into it. Not on me.”
Taehyung’s features are still muddled in confusion for a couple of beats before morphing into something scared.
“…I. I didn’t even realize I was doing it this time. I’m so sorry…”
He looks…small. Frightened. His knees are drawn up protectively around himself now, and his mouth is severely downturned. There’s nothing Yoongi wants more than to cross the space between them and wrap him up into his arms to dispel the wave of negative feeling he’s literally just watched wash over Taehyung.
Despite how badly he wants to comfort him, however, there is still constructive conversation to be had. Yoongi keeps his distance.
“I know, baby. You still did, though, which makes me think that we maybe might need to…clear the air? Go back to the drawing board? Take a break?”
“A break? I mean, of course, obviously, actually I don’t even think the scene should be continu-“
“…A break from doing scenes, I mean.”
Any and all expression leaves Taehyung’s face. Yoongi almost regrets making the suggestion because of how fast he’s shut down.
“Come on, Tae, don’t do this right now.”
“Do what?”
“You know what,” Yoongi says patiently. “It’s not nice.”
The grip on his fingers tightens. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.”
“It’s not like we’re dating, or anything. I don’t know why I’m acting like this.”
Despite Taehyung’s deceptively monotonous voice, he looks shaken. Badly. Yoongi doesn’t resist the urge to reach out to him, this time. It’s easy to encircle the other boy in his arms, pressing his head gently against the steady thumping in his chest. It’s easy to comb through his hair and rub his fingers into the scalp in tight little soothing circles, eliciting sighs of decompression. It’s easy to comfort Taehyung. It’s always been easy, always been the one thing he’s never doubted his ability in.
To make someone happy is a simple science, Yoongi believes. All it is, is a matter of observing the likes and dislikes of an individual and acting accordingly. But to provide true comfort? That’s a more applied, acquired skill. Yoongi takes pride in the fact that where Taehyung is concerned, this comes to him as naturally as breathing.
He chooses his next words very carefully. “No, we’re not,” he whispers into the crown of Taehyung’s head. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t care about each other. I don’t think that’s what it means. Right?”
“Right,” comes the muffled reply smooshed against his bare chest.
“I don’t think the fact that we aren’t involved romantically should bar us from being compassionate. I think that would be counterproductive.”
“I think so, too. I also think you’re right about the, um. The ‘taking a break’ thing. At least until we, uh, I figure out how to deal with – yeah.”
“I’m not angry or upset with you.”
“I know.”
Taehyung knows.
That’s all Yoongi needs from him.
After that, the conversation peters off for a while. Yoongi disentangles them from one another, at some point, just long enough to step into the adjoined bathroom to draw a bath for Taehyung. He can’t say he’s surprised when he’s implored to join by Taehyung’s muted, shy request. Their intimacy is usually confined to the bedroom – it always has been, and Yoongi doesn’t see a change in that in the foreseeable future. But today’s been A Day. He himself could do with a little more physical comfort, so he bends and gives in to Taehyung’s puppy dog eyes, and they bathe together.
The water is a welcome, pleasant sensation against his nude form. They’d sat naked on that bed for so long that their sexual fever had long since died down, giving way to a bone-chilling shiver. The first inch he sinks down into the water relaxes him exponentially, and there isn’t a twinge of anything but affection when he gathers Taehyung against his chest once more. He washes his hair like that: his lover pulled small and compact in between his legs as Yoongi grabs the Johnson’s baby shampoo from where he keeps it by the side of the tub specifically for Taehyung and lathers the suds before working it into Taehyung’s scalp.
It’s mostly silent between them for the next hour. The only sounds that fill the room are gentle waves of water pushing up against the sides of the tub with their movement and soft sighs from the sensation of being washed by the other.
Yoongi, suddenly, is struck with the question of why they’ve never done this before? Aftercare never included multiplayer bath time; at the very most it was a massage, or cuddling. Bathing together is a level of intimacy they haven’t unlocked.
Until now, a helpful voice in the back of his mind supplies.
Yoongi can’t say that he minds.
Yoongi can’t say that he doesn’t want this to become a regular part of their routine.
Taehyung is just so… malleable underneath him. He’s pliant and relaxed and on the verge of letting himself drift off; he looks at peace. Blissed out. Content. His lashes splay out so prettily on the tops of his cheekbones when he lets his lids flutter shut, and Yoongi is overcome with an intense urge to lay a gentle kiss to each of them.
He spends at least fifteen minutes gazing at Taehyung’s dozing face. He looks a little bit like a fairy. Everything feels kind of fuzzy, like nothing is real, and so Yoongi decides to indulge in these couple of moments of sweet illusion, lets the impulses and urges and wants and needs wash over him in waves.
“I can feel you staring. Quit it,” Taehyung hums, eyes still closed shut.
“My bad.” Yoongi speaks softly, like anything louder would wake him up from the dream he’s probably in. “We’re getting prune-y. Time to get out.”
They drain the tub. They step out. They dry off. Yoongi dresses Taehyung carefully, like he’s handling a doll. What’s exhilarating about it is how Taehyung lets him, allows him to be so intimate with him outside of a scene and well past the stages of aftercare. His fingers tremble as he smooths the silken fabric of Taehyung’s sleep-shirt over his stomach.
It’s never…like this.
“Come on, Tae, in you go. Under the covers. Nice and snug.”
They don’t…do this.
“’S cold, Hyung. Cuddles?”
“Yeah, baby. C’mere.”
And yet it comes so naturally.
“Uh…you don’t look so good.”
Namjoon is a fine co-worker. A little meddlesome, sure, but very respectful. Familiarizes himself with the boundaries once they’re set and never steps out of place again. Great to confide in. An all-around upstanding guy.
Right now, though? He’s definitely a problem.
Yoongi is working desperately to finish a presentation he’s slated to give in a meeting with his boss about thirty minutes from now, the local coffee house had been closed that morning due to a power outage, a particularly out-of-season rain had come down hard on his unsuspecting and umbrella-less self during the walk to work, and – oh, right. He hasn’t had a scene with Taehyung in about two weeks, which is the longest they’ve ever gone without seeing each other. It’s wearing him down.
It’s wearing him down so much so that he actually snaps. At Kim Namjoon, certified cubicle sweetheart.
“I’m doing very well, Namjoon-ssi, how about yourself,” Yoongi states flatly, eyes never leaving his laptop screen.
He doesn’t even have to look at him to know Namjoon is fiddling nervously with the tip of his tie. “You know, Yoongi, you can always tell me if something’s-“
Yoongi’s phone chooses that exact moment to kick off in the ringtone he has set specifically for Taehyung, some new girl group’s title track. It’s actually quite catchy.
“If you’ll excuse me. This is important, I’m afraid I’m going to have to take this. Good talk, Namjoon-ssi.”
He’ll feel bad about it later. Currently, his empathy reserves are running a little low, and he’s just a bit too excited at the prospect of hearing Taehyung’s voice again after so long – the possibility has him dizzy. He slips his phone out of his pocket and into the gentle cradle of his hands as he power-walks out of the cubicles and into the men’s room just a few paces away.
Upon entering, he locks himself in the furthest stall away from the door and hurriedly answers his phone just as it’s on the last line of the chorus. “Hello,” he breathes, desperately trying not to give away just how out of breath he is. “This is Yoongi.”
“Hey, Hyung. It’s Tae. You probably already, uh, knew that, though. Caller ID ‘nd stuff.”
God, he’s mumbling. He only does that when he’s nervous. Yoongi’s heart constricts in an overwhelming amount of affection – which is normal, mind you. He hasn’t seen his play partner for a couple of weeks, it’s nothing out of the ordinary to miss the intimacy associated with that.
“Yes, I knew. Still picked up, didn’t I?”
“…Yeah, you did.” The smile in his voice is audible. It’s soft, but it’s there, and it lights something warm in the pit of Yoongi’s gut.
“So, you…you need something, Tae?”
“Oh! Yes, well, I, um. I was doing some thinking, right? About the…predicament we – I keep having. And I was thinking…”
“Uh-oh,” Yoongi jokes.
“Oh, shut up. Anyways, as I was saying. I’m wondering…what are your thoughts on…possibly…maybe…perhaps…addinganotherpersonintoourscenes?”
Yoongi blinks. “Could you repeat that, please?”
“A-another person. In the bedroom. With us. See, I was thinking, and also doing some soul-searching, and I…really like degrading. ‘Nd being mean. ‘Nd a lot of other stuff, honestly, and it would make sense if we brought in another sub – a true sub, a masochistic one, I mean – and incorporate them into the scene. That way I’ll have someone to bully that isn’t…you.”
“Hm.”
“You don’t have to say yes right away! Or at all!” Taehyung squeaks, clearly put on edge by Yoongi’s lack of a response. “I was just saying. It’s a suggestion, kinda. I just…I really want it to work out. I like doing scenes with you, Hyung, I don’t wanna ruin that…”
“You haven’t ruined anything, baby,” Yoongi is quick to reassure him. Taehyung’s sadistic tendencies weren’t exactly Yoongi’s cup of tea, but that isn’t to say they won’t be someone else’s. Yoongi…can see where he’s going with this idea of his. Adding another person into the mix would provide Taehyung with someone who actually enjoyed the degradation he dealt, and Yoongi with someone who obeyed. It’s definitely a thought.
“You haven’t ruined anything,” he repeats. “This is actually a really good idea, you know that? I’m proud of you for using our break to think productively. Good job, Taehyungie.”
“Thank you, Hyung.” Yoongi can practically see him squirm happily in his seat.
“You’re welcome, good boy.”
“Ah, Hyung…”
And Yoongi would recognize that tone of voice anywhere.
He can’t deny the affect talking has had on him either; hearing Taehyung so visibly pleased directly in his ear is sending some signals down south. Discreetly, he unlocks the stall door to confirm what he thinks he already knows – the bathroom is empty save for him. He’d lock the main door if he could, but that requires a master key from downstairs, and phone sex is never that serious. Besides, he’s almost positive he can get away with this without any unwanted witnesses.
“Yeah, honey?” Yoongi simpers as he retreats back into the stall, “you have something you want to tell Hyung?”
It’s not a scene, so this technically won’t interfere with their break.
“Just…nothing…’s okay…”
“You sure? Where are you right now, babe?”
Yoongi’s already palming himself through his slacks. He could get off on talking sweet to Taehyung and that alone – especially with the way the other whines high and strangled in the back of his throat like he’s trying to hide it. Silly boy. Yoongi throws his head back into the tiled wall behind him as he lets his fingers slip underneath his waistband.
“’M at home, y’know how I have Wednesdays off...”
God, has it been a long time since he’s seen Taehyung – fuck that, since he’s heard his voice. He sounds just as desperate as Yoongi feels; he gets whiny when he’s needy for something, voice high and tight as he struggles to string together coherent sentences. It drives Yoongi mad, how his baby makes such a mess of himself just trying to speak clearly. “I know, sweetheart. So you’re all swaddled up in bed? Taking it easy, huh? You deserve that, you always work so hard. I’m so proud of you, such a good boy.”
“Nng, well…I…hh,” whispers Taehyung intelligently. “Hyung, can I touch?”
Yoongi’s got his pants down around his mid-thighs by now, fucking his cock through his fist and imagining something tighter, something hotter and wetter and slicker and more inviting. He thinks of how Taehyung always smells of lavender and how his favorite flavored lube is strawberry. He thinks of how Taehyung likes to spritz on body mist before he comes over, always looking for a compliment about how nice he smells, how good he looks, how much Yoongi wants him. Oh, how Yoongi wants him.
“Yeah, sweet thing. You can touch.”
“Thank you, Hyung, thank you, thank you, so – much – oh…”
“Can’t come ‘til I say,” Yoongi grunts out, hips stuttering off of their perch against the wall, “don’t even think about it. You wanna be my good boy, don’t you?”
“Yes, I, yes. I do. Oh, please, it feels so good, Hyung…”
He thinks it’s funny, really, how easily Taehyung has him hanging onto his every word. It’s a little pathetic, sure, but he doesn’t pay that any mind. He’s got bigger fish to fry at the moment. “What feels good? What’re you doing over there, Taetae?”
“Usin’ my f-fingers…pretending ‘s you. Not working. Nothing as good as you, Yoongi-hyung, nothing.”
Yoongi fucks faster into his fist at that, invigorated by Taehyung’s appraisal. His skin feels like it’s on fire; Taehyung is a literal work of art. Yoongi’s lucky enough that they were intimate just once, let alone regular partners for – what was it, a year and change, now? Two years? Shit. He twists his hand on the upstroke and teases just under the head with the tips of his fingers and feels himself unravel further.
“Oh,” he pants, “my baby’s so kind. S-so well behaved. Trained you so well, huh, pet?”
“Nnn, close! Close! Please!”
“Nuh-uh. Almost there, Tae. Can you be good and wait for Hyung?”
Taehyung’s voice cracks on a long, drawn-out moan over the line. Yoongi wishes so badly that he could be there to hear that in person, to feel it against his lips. His thrusts come faster now.
If it were Taehyung he was fucking into, he’d grip him by the hip bones hard enough to bruise and fuck him into the mattress, smother his cock against the sheets below and make him feel so good he sobs. He’d bring a hand up to wrap around the base of his throat, he knows how much Taehyung loves to have his airflow cut off. Yoongi would hold him like that: like a doll to be used and fucked into. Yoongi wonders if Tae would let him fix him up in a dress and everything, one time. Like a real doll. Wonders if he’d let him fuck him like that, too.
He’s gonna come. Groaning low in his throat, he wrenches his head to the side to feel the cool tile of the wall behind him on his cheek. His hips jerk forwards once, twice, three times, and he’s spilling all over the expanse of his fist and wrist. He uses the ejaculate as lubricant to keep tugging at his cock, the shockwaves of overstimulation working over his body in debilitating pleasure.
“Fuck,” Yoongi breathes. “Go ahead, baby. Come now for Hyung.”
Taehyung yells as if acting on command, and Yoongi can tell from the pitch and length that he’s come. “Good boy,” he praises, “always following orders. The perfect pet for me. Just for me.”
“Just for you.”
Butterflies are unleashed from the bottom of his stomach, fluttering their way upwards through his ribcage and into his heart, accelerating its speed tenfold. He allows himself a wide, gummy smile in the empty restroom stall.
“You did well, Taetae. I’m proud of you. I’m sorry I’m not there to help you clean up, but make sure you do, alright?
“Yes, yeah, I will.” Taehyung is still a little bit out of breath, and pants cutely into the receiver. “That was – wow. Wow. I missed you lots.”
The butterflies increase in their fluttering. Yoongi struggles to choose his next words.
“Missed you, too. Your idea is a good one. Let’s reconvene at mine later tonight and we can talk more?”
“ ’Reconvene,’ ” Taehyung laughs, “it’s so easy to tell you work in corporate when you say stuff like that, Mister Fancy Accountant Man.”
“We can’t all make a living off of thrift shop wages.”
“Don’t knock it ‘til you try it.”
“Fair. Alright, how does eight sound?”
“Sounds perfect. See you then, Yoongi-hyung.”
“See you, Taehyung. Take care.”
The line clicks dead and Yoongi lets out a heavy sigh. He – he’d needed that. Not even the phone sex; he’d needed to hear Taehyung’s voice again.
Grimacing, he rips some toilet paper from the dispenser and cleans off the cooling ejaculate from his right hand before disposing of the soiled paper in the toilet. Pulling up and fixing his pants is quick work, and he goes about it silently and efficiently. He takes a moment to spare a glance underneath the stall, just to make sure nobody’s walked into the bathroom in between now and the last time he’d checked, and his eyes roll in irritancy when he spies a familiar pair of black oxfords.
There’s no avoiding this confrontation, then.
Yoongi swings open the stall door to reveal Namjoon’s scandalized face.
“I-I-I,” he stutters, “came to see if y-you were alright, I- “
“Thank you for your concern, Namjoon. I’m doing quite fine, as I think you’ve gathered at this point. Well, back to work, am I right? This presentation won’t give itself.” And then Yoongi is slipping past Namjoon with a firm pat to his shoulder, out the door before Namjoon can say anything else to even further embarrass himself.
Yoongi should be as equally scandalized. He should at least feel even just the tiniest bit remorseful for doing something so risqué on company time and property.
Strangely, though?
All that plagues his mind is thoughts of seeing Taehyung tonight. In person. For the first time in two weeks.
He works through his PowerPoint with a giddy smile. The meeting with his boss goes well. During his lunchbreak, he takes a stroll in the sunny midday weather to the local coffee house and orders a Frappuccino for the hell of it.
He’s not nervous. Nerves aren’t the problem.
That would be a little too much. He’s got Tae right beside him, holding his left hand in an act of mutual comfort, which is enough on its own to bring his anticipatory levels down to ground base. The choice to meet up at Yoongi’s favorite coffee house was also strategic in that sense; it’s hard to be worked up with anxiety when he’s surrounded by his blessed sanctuary amidst the bustling streets of Seoul.
So, no, he wouldn’t say he’s nervous. Just a little…eager, maybe?
It’s not like they’re walking into a blind date; they’d both found the guy through their little community circle. Jimin, Taehyung’s best friend and Yoongi’s fellow dominant, had personally referred them this guy they’re supposed to be meeting up with. Before they’d scheduled an actual in-person conference they’d spoke on the phone, albeit briefly, and from what Yoongi could discern, this Jeon Jungkook was a little bit of a sweetheart, he has to admit. The pictures Jimin had sent them weren’t too bad, either.
To his right in the leather seated booth they’re occupying, Taehyung sips at his tea before setting the cup down and drumming his fingers anxiously at the wooden tabletop. The corners of his mouth are held tightly.
“Hey,” murmurs Yoongi under his breath, “you’re feeling alright?”
“I just really want this to work out,” Taehyung says. His gaze never leaves where it’s focused on his cuticles.
“Look at me, Tae.”
Taehyung obeys.
“Even if this Jungkook guy isn’t the one, he isn’t our only option. If this goes south, we’ll just go back to the drawing board, or ask Jimin if he can think of anybody else to recommend. Okay?”
“’Kay.”
“Say it like you mean it.”
“Okay, Hyung.”
“Good boy.” Yoongi squeezes their hands where they’re interlocked and brings them up to his lips to kiss. It paints a small, soft morning glow of a smile on Taehyung’s face and that’s all Yoongi needs for now.
Their heads shoot up at each jingle of the overhead bell above the front door that signals a new customer. Yoongi slips his phone out of his coat pocket to check the time. It’s a quarter past four. They’d agreed to meet fifteen minutes ago.
They do have Jungkook’s number, though. Just as Yoongi is beginning to type out a message asking if everything is alright, the front door opens rather forcefully and their heads are not the only ones to pop up and look.
In the doorway stands Jeon Jungkook.
Honestly? Truthfully? Yoongi was expecting something a little different. Jimin warned them that Jungkook was a little bit of a jock head, but he’d thought the comment was made in jest – he hadn’t thought that Jungkook actually…
Well.
Jungkook comes barreling into the place in a matching soccer jersey and athletic shorts set, both a deep shade of mauve and the jersey sporting “01 JEON” on the back. He’s still got his cleats on, and the eye black on his cheekbones appears to have been hastily scrubbed at, but ultimately unmoved in its position on his face. His hair’s a sweaty black mop atop his head, and his temples still gleam brightly with perspiration as he tumbles into the booth seat in front of them, valiantly attempting to control his panting.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” he gasps, “game ran into double overtime and I-“
“Breathe-“
“-didn’t have time to shower, sorry, I know I smell like crap-“
“It’s okay-“
“-promise I don’t always come in like this-“
Yoongi feels a little like he’s in the backseat, right now. Partly because he’s frozen as Taehyung reaches across the table to grab at Jungkook’s hands to get him to calm down, and mostly because his frozen state is due to how hard his heart pounds in his chest.
Jungkook is cute, objectively so, but he’s also endearing in how he’s a lumbering college jock looking so small in his seat as he apologizes profusely for tardiness. The juxtaposition makes Yoongi’s head spin.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Taehyung says slowly, “It’s not a big deal. Are you alright?”
“Y-yeah.” Jungkook looks like he’s in a bit of a trance as he gazes wonderingly at Taehyung’s face, and then Yoongi’s.
“Then it’s alright. Nobody’s upset.”
“I’ve literally never in my life seen people as pretty as you guys. Shit, that was probably very uncool of me to say. Please forget I just said that. I’m very cool, usually, I promise.”
“Oh no, he’s cute. We’re keeping him. I hope that’s alright with you, Tae.”
The both of them giggle at that, and Yoongi feels a little bit more in control of the situation.
“More than alright with me,” Taehyung continues easily, grinning rather wolfishly at Jungkook.
And Jungkook – blushes. It starts as a gentle blossoming of pink on the apples of his cheeks, but as Yoongi and Taehyung continue to stare at him with all of the want that pools between them, it spreads across the bridge of Jungkook’s nose and up to the ridges of his ears and down the side of his neck and before long, he’s a hodgepodge of reds and pinks. He’s shrunken into himself, too, so he sits tiny and his hulking shoulders cave in a little bit. He’s giggling and blushing and looking small and – oh. Yoongi could eat him up.
A glance to the right of him shows Taehyung looking equally as enamored, possibly even more so than Yoongi. He looks ready to pounce. Yoongi’s never – seen him like this before.
It’s kind of hot.
“So Jungkook, what sport do you play?”
“Football, Sir. Fuck.”
Yoongi grins a feral grin, leaning back in his seat and relishing in how the stiff leather gives way underneath him.
Oh, yes. They’re definitely going to be keeping him.
“You seem nervous,” Taehyung notes softly, “Why is that?”
“I-I-I’ve just never been with a c-couple before, and I-“
“A couple?” Both Taehyung and Yoongi speak at the same time, equally as bewildered. Yoongi has no idea what on earth would have given Jungkook the impression that they’re together, at least in that way.
The faltering, confused puppy expression Jungkook wears is a direct hit to the gut. “You guys…you’re a couple, right?”
They turn towards each other and assess their hands that are still joint beneath the table, the way their thighs and shoulders press together due to their close proximity. Yoongi thinks of how easily they speak in tandem, how they rarely feel the need to use complete sentences, as the other always seems to know what one is trying to say.
“No, we’re not.”
“We’re just play partners.”
“O…kay…” Jungkook draws it out, face still contorted in confusion. “Well, er, this is still my first time doing a scene with more than just another person, so I’m kinda…nervous, I guess.”
“And that’s normal. I hope you’ll trust us enough to believe me when I say that we are professionals and there’s absolutely nothing to be worried about. We’ve individually been in the community for a decade, and we’ve been playing with each other for upwards of two years. We won’t let anything bad happen to you, okay?”
When Jungkook meets his eyes, Yoongi can tell that his pupils are shaking. How badly does he want to cross the table and draw him into his arms, this boy he’s known for but a couple of days! He already feels a sort of connection to him, an instinct to cover and protect.
“Okay. Yeah. Yes, Yoongi-ssi.”
God, he just looks so small. Not dainty, certainly not fragile, but – small. Even in just the way he sits: legs crossed underneath the table, hands tucked snug under his thighs, shoulders hunched in and pushing his chest back in against the seat behind him. He gazes up through his doe-like lashes, peering past the sheet of bangs that threaten to obstruct his vision, straight to Yoongi, completely unaware of what it’s doing to his heart.
“None of that,” says Yoongi firmly, but warmly. “You’re to call us your Hyungs. We’re here to take care of you.”
Jungkook blushes again, and this time it’s even more deeply than the first.
I just really want this to work out, Taehyung had said. Like he was afraid of losing something. Like he had something to lose at all. Yoongi thinks about that – the way he’d looked when he’d said it, how his voice hiccupped a little bit on the vowels and clipped the consonants – and he falls asleep at nights wondering just what it is Taehyung had wanted to work out.
Finding a play partner you’re completely compatible with is rare. Yoongi and Taehyung are lucky to have their high functioning level of synchronism. Maybe that’s what he’d meant? He’d been afraid that if Jungkook wasn’t the one, he and Yoongi would have had to call it quits and stop playing together?
Well, that’s ridiculous in its own right. They’ve been involved with each other for a substantial time, and they’ve been exclusive for almost all of it; Yoongi would want to split up even less than Taehyung would. To throw all of their natural chemistry and hard work put into the relationship away like that would be an unnecessary waste; a slaughtering of what they’d built together.
If Yoongi’s being honest – like really honest – he…can’t imagine playing without Taehyung. This fact should be setting alarm bells and red flags off in his head, but he’s strangely content to be intimately acquainted with this information. It feels like he’s known some variation of it for as long as he’s known Taehyung.
See, his affection and want for Taehyung doesn’t end with the threshold of their bedroom. He finds himself yearning to take care of and be taken care of in their everyday lives; thinks about picking up some sprigs of lavender on the way home from work because he knows it’s Taehyung’s favorite scent; instinctually turns up the heat in the apartment three degrees as soon as he steps in because he knows Tae runs cold, like him, but likes to be encompassed by warmth; finds himself stocking up on more Johnson’s No Tear baby shampoo even when he’s not due to see Tae for another couple of days, because just the bottle is enough to remind Yoongi of his presence.
He avoids work dinners and parties because he knows he can’t take Taehyung – or rather, he’s too chickenshit to ask if he’ll accompany him. He never sits alone when he goes out for food, always grabbing an extra chair or sitting in a booth just in case Tae magically appears before him. He used to think he’d developed this habit because he doesn’t like to be alone, but he knows now that he’s content with being by himself. He’d just rather be with Taehyung if given the choice.
The problem he faces is bigger than just sex, or annoying coworkers, or misplaced nerves.
The problem is that he might – no he does – really really like Taehyung. In a very non-platonic way.
That’s the problem.
It’s a late Saturday afternoon, perfect timing for their needs. Yoongi’s off of work on weekends, Taehyung gets off on Saturdays around four, and Jungkook doesn’t have any classes until the week starts.
Currently, they’re gathered in Yoongi’s rather spacious apartment to tackle the finer working details of their arrangement. A discussion of limits and kinks is always a necessity before any kind of scene; that’s how Yoongi and Taehyung did it the first time and continue to do every couple of months just to check in, and that’s how they’ll do it with Jungkook. They’ve both found that in order to facilitate healthy communication about what goes in the bedroom, it’s important that they’re all on the same page.
“Alright, Jungkookie. You told us you made a list?”
Jungkook’s habit for flushing so easily at the slightest bit of provocation is something Yoongi will never tire of. “Y-yeah. I mean, yes. I did.” He fiddles nervously with the hem of his Messi jersey with one hand as he uses the other to slip his phone out of his pocket, unlocking it and swiping along the surface of the screen quickly as he presumably navigates to his list.
“Would you like to share with us?” Asks Taehyung gently, reaching over from where he’s sat on the couch next to the younger to lightly stroke his forearm.
“Okay…I can do that…”
“Good boy.” Yoongi ruffles his bangs and relishes in how Jungkook whines cutely. “Now, let’s go through hard and soft limits first.”
“Right. Well, um, there’s not many…No blood, please, and no…heavy bathroom stuff. I’m okay with bladder control, but other stuff is…yeah, no. That’s about it for hard limits.”
Yoongi nods. “Alright. Soft now?”
“Um, I think for right now, let’s maybe take it easy on hitting and slapping? I usually like it, b-but this is kind of new and I’d like to wait to establish m-more trust before getting into heavy stuff. Please.”
He’s so well-mannered. Either he was trained by an impeccable master with a penchant for discipline, or he’s just this way naturally. Yoongi’s inclined to believe it’s his natural disposition, but maybe he’s just a dreamer. It doesn’t matter which theory is correct, honestly. Jungkook’s knee-jerk obedience is something he could definitely get used to.
Jungkook scrolls down with his thumb and his face burns brighter. “Okay, so for kinks…hh. This is a lot, so just, uh, stop me if I get to one you aren’t feeling and I’ll make a note?”
Both Yoongi and Taehyung nod in agreement.
Jungkook then proceeds to read off his list.
They don’t stop him once.
Which is something just short of a miracle; to be this in-tune to a partner’s sexual preferences is something quite rare. Yoongi thinks it has something to do with the kinks not being standalone concepts but being associated with Jungkook himself – ordinarily, he doesn’t really have strong feelings behind asphyxiation. But the thought of wrapping a hand around Jungkook’s neck? Squeezing around the girth of it and watching the blood drain from Jungkook’s face as he struggles against the grip? Being able to bear witness to Jungkook’s eyes rolling back into his skull at the pleasure of it all, mouth open wide and choking on nothing?
“-oongi-hyung? Yoongi-hyung?” Taehyung’s voice snaps him back to reality.
“Yes! Sorry, I’m a little fatigued from the workweek.” Yoongi adjusts his position on the couch and strategically crosses one leg over the other. “I don’t have an issue with any of those, Jungkook. Tae?”
“Nope, me neither. You really are a sub, aren’t you?”
Jungkook practically bursts into flames, the fire engine red of his face matching the hue of his Adidas track pants near perfectly. “I-I mean…”
“I guess that’s why we have you here, though, huh? You already know this, Jiminie filled you in when he set us up, but I’m a bit of a bully.” Taehyung laughs a little conspiratorially, reaching up to play with a lock of Jungkook’s overgrown bangs. “Will you let me be mean to you, Jungkookie? Will you let Hyung do that to you?”
Yoongi should intervene.
Instead?
He observes.
The way Jungkook melts in the wake of Taehyung’s gentle toned teasing is captivating. A full body shudder wracks through every bone he has in him, and Taehyung coos in response. They’re holed up in the opposite corner of the couch from him, and Yoongi physically cannot take his eyes off of the two of them; how they play into each other, how Jungkook’s masculine, compactly built form is hunched in on itself as Taehyung’s slimmer build wreaks havoc.
Yoongi is starting to think that he’s got a little voyeuristic streak going on. At least when it comes to Taehyung and Jungkook. He could see himself spending entire scenes off to the side, getting off on watching the two of them play together.
It’s the dynamic.
Taehyung looks so different to how he usually is for Yoongi, face contorted into pleasure as he begs with teary eyes for release. With Jungkook, in this element, he acts…predatory. A little mean. Like a bully. It’s turning Yoongi on, to see him overpower someone so easily.
“Y-yes, Hyung,” Jungkook stutters unevenly. His breath is coming a little too quickly and he’s got a sheen of sweat building up high on his brow. His lashes flutter like he’s going to pass out. Yoongi is enraptured by the sight of him.
“Good boy, Kookie,” murmurs Yoongi, and Jungkook nearly sobs. “Color?”
“Green,” he whispers, restlessly scuffing his Nikes on the carpet beneath him, “So, so, so green.”
He’s just so cute. Yoongi wants to put him in his pocket and feed him milk and sweets for the rest of his life. This tiny boy of a jock. Who would have thought it? The local university’s senior star quarterback likes to be made to cry during sex, likes to be hit and to be taken from until he has nothing left to give. The prospect of being on the other side of that equation – to be the one inflicting that upon on him – is such a power trip. It makes Yoongi lightheaded just thinking about it.
“Do you wanna do this right now, baby? Wanna get messy for Hyungs?”
They’ve all gone over their limits and kinks. It’s a little cliché to end a negotiation session with sex, but they’re all consenting adults, and they can do it if they want to. And by the feel of the room, God, do they want to.
The kind of attraction they feel is a bit out of the ordinary, especially with having only known each other for a little over three weeks.
And yet.
And yet.
And yet, Yoongi feels like it’s only right to have Jungkook here and underneath Taehyung. Yoongi feels like it’s only right to watch Taehyung speak down to him like he’s nothing, like he’s only there for their entertainment, like all he’s good for are his tears.
He couldn’t think of anyone else he’d rather have between them. Jungkook just fits so neatly into their dynamic, works so perfectly for what they need, and he adds his own little bit of flair to things as well.
Yoongi can’t help the little twinge of something dangerous in his chest.
“Y-yes please,” Jungkook whines, toeing off his shoes and kicking them to the side of the coffee table. Taehyung laughs and comments on how eager Jungkook seems to be, to which the younger flushes and ducks his head. Taehyung guides him by a finger underneath his chin to lift his head back up and make them eye level.
Taehyung speaks at a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”
“Please,” breathes Jungkook.
Their lips meet, and it socks Yoongi straight in the gut.
“Oh,” he sighs, but it’s not like the other two boys can hear him. They’re too busy sucking face to even notice Yoongi’s said anything. Taehyung sneaks a hand up to grip at the hair at the back of Jungkook’s head and pulls hard, eliciting a guttural whimper from the younger. The noise is drawn out of him involuntarily, and he has to break the kiss to let it past his lips properly; Taehyung eats it up like he’s been starved and dives back in to continue the kiss, all the while gripping and pulling Jungkook’s jet black hair.
Yoongi quickly realizes that if he doesn’t intervene, they’re going to end up fucking on the sofa which is not a viable option. He hosts company on that sofa. When his parents come every year to visit, they sit on that sofa. He will not have it desecrated, thank you very much.
“Come on, you two,” Yoongi calls, pushing himself up off the couch. “Let’s move.”
The pair reluctantly part from each other and stand, awkwardly shifting from foot to foot and placing their hands in front of their crotches in an attempt to hide the obvious. Just for kicks, Yoongi smirks and leans in to bat away Jungkook’s hands and grope him through his track pants; he relishes in the long, unabashed whimper it earns him, and he squeezes just tight enough for it to pinch. He’s no fool. He noticed how brightly Jungkook had blushed when he’d told them about his masochistic fantasies. Yoongi knows exactly what his brand is.
He lets go and turns on his heels without a word, smiling in satisfaction when he hears socked footsteps trail behind him on the way to the bedroom.
Upon entering, he immediately makes a beeline to the closet and goes for the chest of toys he keeps hidden in the back. He pulls it out and unlocks it, flipping the top over to expose the vast array of sex toys he and Taehyung have amassed over the months. He already has an idea of what he wants tonight to look like, so he grabs a few choice items along with condoms and lube before closing the chest, returning it to its place behind the shoe rack without so much as a word.
When he turns around, he’s greeted with a pleasant sight.
Taehyung and Jungkook are stripped naked and lay on the bed kissing like they’re stuck to each other; they barely even register Yoongi’s presence above them. Their arms are entangled together, working between their bodies as they reach down to feel at the other man and tug at his cock.
Jungkook’s physique is nothing to sneeze at. He’s ripped. Bulging biceps and pectorals, and a defined six pack Yoongi can’t wait to lick all over. He could overpower either of them, or both at once, really, with minimal effort.
Yet he chooses to arch his back and moan like a bitch. When Taehyung’s string bean of an arm comes down behind Jungkook to force him to fuck into the loose hole his fist is making, Jungkook follows like he has no other choice. God, just watching them is enough to have Yoongi popping his button and zipping down his fly to tug himself out of his pants for some release.
“Aw, look at that,” Taehyung simpers, “baby just wants something to fuck. With that little thing? Who do you think is gonna let you in them, hm? Would they even be able to feel it?”
Jungkook throws his head back onto one of the pillows behind him and whimpers high.
Yoongi concurs.
Watching Taehyung handle someone like this…it’s beyond erotic. Yoongi can feel his brain leaking down and out through his ears.
“Don’t give him too much of a hard time, now, Tae,” he hums, dumping the two toys onto the bed as he clambers on to join them. “Look. Poor thing’s about to cry.”
It’s true. Jungkook’s eyes are as wide as they are glassy, filled to the brim with unshed tears he attempts valiantly to hold back. He sniffles and goes to cover his face, but Yoongi catches his hands before they can make it up all the way and tuts, guiding them to his cock in one fluid motion. “None of that, little one. You wanna make me feel good?”
Jungkook nods.
“Nope. Use your words, I know you can.”
“Y-yes, Sir.”
“Good boy. Now put this ring on for Sir, Jungkookie.”
Yoongi grabs the cock ring from the pile of supplies sitting to their right on the bed and places it in Jungkook’s hands. The younger easily strokes Yoongi’s length as he slips the ring on, taking care to fondle just underneath the head of his cock as he does so. A moan builds deep in the pit of Yoongi’s gut at the combined sensations of Jungkook’s hand on his cock and the way his eyes look up at him, all doe-like and innocent and teary. It makes Yoongi want to wreck him. It makes Yoongi want to see him cry properly.
“Come here. Let Sir show you something, okay? Grab the lube.”
Jungkook does as he’s told, and Yoongi rewards him with a kiss on the cheek as a reward. Despite the lewdness of their current situation, the kid still has the audacity to blush. Yoongi is enamored.
They’re positioned behind Taehyung, who Yoongi has grabbed by the hips and propped into a face-down-ass-up position. He takes a moment to land a slap down across his ass and pull his cheeks apart just to watch his hole flutter in anticipation. “You see this, sweetheart?”
“Yes, Hyung.”
“You wanna fuck Taetae? Make him bend over for you and take you like the good boy you are? You’ve done nothing but follow directions without question, such an angel. He has a thing or two to learn, doesn’t he?”
“I-I-“
“You can help teach him for Sir, can’t you?”
He reaches forward to tug at Jungkook’s hard cock, thumbing him at the head and spreading precome down around the shaft to lubricate the process; he twists his wrist on the upstroke and rotates it the opposite way as he goes down, just to watch Jungkook’s face melt in pleasure. “I said, can’t you?”
“K-Kookie can! He can, Sir, he can!”
Oh.
How fucking cute.
Yoongi uses his free hand to snag the lube from where it rests in Jungkook’s slack fist. He uncaps it with one finger and motions for Jungkook to open his palm, squirting a liberal amount into the center when he does. He squirts some into the cleft of Taehyung’s ass, for good measure, and then closes the cap and discards the bottle.
“Go ahead, honey, spread it around. There you go, get it all over. Perfect. Now I want you to give him a finger, just one – he hasn’t earned any more than that.”
“I hope he’s warming me up for you, Hyung,” moans Taehyung from below, “there’s no way he could handle fucking anything other than a toy.”
Jungkook’s cock jumps at the degradation, and he lets his head fall back as he whines pathetically into the heated air of the bedroom. Yoongi distantly wonders how they’d lucked out and managed to find such an angel, so good for what they need, for what he needs. Jungkook follows Yoongi’s instructions as easy as breathing, slipping one finger into Taehyung and moaning with him in tandem as he breaches his hole. Yoongi doesn’t stop fondling his cock, only brings up another hand to rub at his back encouragingly as he whispers praises into his ear.
“Just like that, Kookie-baby, you’re doing so well. Go ahead and curl it nice and tight for us. Oh, there you go, hear how Taetae loves it? Just listen to him. Give him another one, honey, he’s begging for it.”
Taehyung arches his back even further and claws into the mattress below. He tries sneaking one hand down his stomach to work at his cock, but Yoongi’s sharp eye catches the movement and snatches up his wrist before he can make it. “Don’t you even think about it,” he murmurs lowly, “have you done anything to deserve the right to touch yourself? Answer me.”
“Ngh – Nn – I, d-don’t know, you tell muh – me –“
“He’s showing off because we have company,” Yoongi comments disinterestedly, rolling his eyes as he snags the lube bottle up from its previous resting place and squirting a generous dollop onto his palm. He spreads it around his fingers and then slides in his middle finger alongside Jungkook’s ring and pointer. Taehyung screams, hands coming up to tug at his own hair as he thrashes around underneath them.
They pump into him for a couple moments longer – not because Taehyung needs any real preparation, as he’d fingered himself before he’d come over (as he always does,) but because of the sensuality inherent in foreplay. As they draw their fingers out, he whines long and high, hips pushing backwards in their direction in a silent plead for more. His hole gapes open, wide and empty and fluttering. Everything about him is just so pretty. Yoongi’s heart hurts.
Before he can get overemotional about the way Taehyung’s ass looks, he quickly busies himself with finding a pair of condoms among the pile of supplies he’d brought over to the bed. He locates two before too long and rips one open, sliding it out and onto Jungkook before either of the boys are left waiting for too long.
“Go ahead, little one,” whispers Yoongi. “Take what you need.”
Jungkook enters Taehyung slowly, like he’s going to come if he goes any faster. It tugs at something deep down in Yoongi’s heart; the baby looks spent already. Brow soaked in sweat, lip pulled tight between his teeth, swollen arms trembling as he eases his meager inches inside Taehyung at a snail’s pace. The moment their hips connect, he lets out a loud cry and doubles over, clinging to Taehyung’s back like a second skin. Beneath him, Taehyung his shaking like a leaf, muffling his sounds into the pillow.
Yoongi wastes no time in slipping a condom onto his own length and slicking himself up before spreading Jungkook’s cheeks and pushing in. Tight heat engulfs him almost immediately, and all three of them cry out when Yoongi pushes through his first thrust.
“Babies feel good, huh? Is it too much? Can you two be good and take it?” He’s panting as he says it, one hand on Jungkook’s hip and the other on Taehyung’s as he begins to fuck forward in earnest. They both moan something in return, what exactly they say, he cannot discern; he’s too overcome with the urge to have something on his mouth, now.
He’s been thinking about it ever since they’d met up with Jungkook in the coffee house all those days ago. How nice his plush lips would feel against his own, the supple flesh of them giving way underneath Yoongi’s hungry canines; how pretty Jungkook would tear up for him if he bit too hard, the lovely whimpers and whines that he’d swallow right from his mouth when he licked it better. Yoongi can’t wait for another second, is no longer satisfied with simple fantasy. He needs to taste Jungkook for real.
The whole thing plays out like it’s in slow motion.
Gently, Yoongi pulls Jungkook up by the shoulder and guides him in by his throat, fingers curling affectionately at the hairs at the nape of his neck. He’s stretched around a little uncomfortably, so Yoongi acts quickly and presses their lips together, and everything seems to click into place.
He tastes like milk and honey. Like jasmine hand lotion and the morning dew on a freshly cut soccer field. Like home. Like every enigma Yoongi’s lust-addled brain can construct in the approximate six seconds they lock lips for. It feels like a lifetime and the blink of an eye and he doesn’t know how he’s going to recover from this. He’ll never be able to forget the way Jeon Jungkook kissed him, the way he kissed Jeon Jungkook, how they joined together like two stars colliding in the night sky, combining and combusting in a sea of celestial fireworks.
Jungkook pulls softly back, lips sliding off of Yoongi’s with a mild click, and they stare at each other motionlessly for what feels like hours.
Yoongi’s fucked for him. Completely and truly.
Taehyung’s whining snaps them out of whatever reverie they’d been in, and they both resume in their thrusting. It doesn’t take long now, especially not with that kiss invigorating the lust that pumps through their veins.
It’s Jungkook who ends up coming first, actually. Poor thing is too overwhelmed with the amount of stimuli interacting with him and he climaxes balls deep in Taehyung, the long-awaited fall of the tears in his eyes doing absolutely everything for Yoongi. He sounds so pretty when he sobs for mercy.
“P-please,” Jungkook groans, flopping like a ragdoll between where Taehyung bucks his hips back and Yoongi bucks his forwards, “I c-can’t, Hyung, Kookie, he-“
“Color, Jungkook?”
“Green. So Green.”
“Be a good boy and please us,” Yoongi grits out.
“It’s all you’re good for, anyways, Kookie-honey. Don’t you ever forget it.” Taehyung laughs a little sinister laugh into the sheets as he takes pleasure in grinding back on Jungkook’s spent cock, humming in pleasure as the younger cries out. He’s writhing in overstimulation between the two of them, so far gone into his headspace that he keeps whining about Kookie can’t do this and Kookie can’t handle it.
He’s such a precious little thing. To hear him choked up and begging for leniency is a privilege, and Yoongi doesn’t take it for granted. He grips Jungkook by the jaw with one hand to hold him still as his other comes up to wipe his tears. “Shh, it’s alright, angel. Just a bit more. We’re almost there, now, yeah? Here, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Go ahead and touch Taetae’s nipples. He’s extra sensitive there. Just like that, there you go. Oh, Good boy, Kookie’s such a good boy.”
“O-oh, wait, w-wait, Hyung, c-can I please come, please-“
“Oh I know you can ask better than that, Taehyungie. Let’s try again.”
He sees the fight leave Taehyung’s shuddering form once he realizes that Yoongi is the immovable object to his unstoppable force. What Taehyung has in tenacity, Yoongi matches in patience, and in order to come, he’ll have to give in. It’s a battlefield he has to choose to die on during every single scene, and each surrender is ridiculously arousing in its own right. Yoongi damn near comes, himself, when Taehyung asks him so pretty, “May I please come, Hyungie?”
“Well. Since you’ve asked so nicely. Go ahead, good boy.”
As if on command, Taehyung convulses underneath the two bodies atop him and ejaculates into the sheets. It’s a silent orgasm, which lets Yoongi know that it is a powerful one for him. He’s close himself, so he doesn’t plan on drawing this out for much longer – maybe another day, but not today.
Swiftly, he pulls out of Jungkook and Jungkook gratefully slips out of Taehyung with a relieved sigh.
“You two aren’t done just yet,” slurs Yoongi as he spins around to sit comfortably against the head of the bed. His legs are spread, arms resting over the top of the wooden accessory behind him, and he gestures with a jut of his chin to where his cock still presents tall and proud. “Come and finish up, pups.”
They look beautiful between his legs, sharing him like they’re hungry for it. They’re both fucked out and sloppy, so the blowjob is more of a shared kiss between the two of them and Yoongi’s cock just happens to be in the middle of it all. It’s so hot that he could die. Their heads bump together and they knock into each other’s noses and elbow each other to get a better spot and it’s as messy as it is every bit of a fantasy Yoongi didn’t know he had until literally right now.
Jungkook looks up at him with gorgeous puppy dog eyes begging, imploring Yoongi to give him an appraisal for a job well done. He looks like he’ll start crying again without it. Yoongi keeps his mouth shut and watches as Jungkook crumbles in on himself around Yoongi’s cock, licking up the sides of it and stopping to suckle at the head as he lets his tears fall once more.
He looks every bit of the angel he really is, weepy and teary with his red-rimmed eyes and his swollen lips and rosy cheeks. It makes Yoongi want to own him. Permanently.
To the right of him, Taehyung looks just as inviting. He’s working along Yoongi’s cock like he can’t get enough, like this is a reward for good behavior. Yoongi supposes it is. Even though it’s him who’s really the recipient of a reward, here – two of the most beautiful boys he’s ever seen between his legs and eager to please him, sucking him down like it’s the last thing they’ll ever get to do.
“You’re so good, my babies,” Yoongi babbles, delirious, one hand in the hair of each of the boys, “Such good angels for me, I don’t deserve, oh, oh, oh-“
He comes, then, the hardest he ever has; while making direct eye contact with the both of them.
They’re gracious enough to pull the condom off of him and tie it off and throw it over the side of the bed, presumably (hopefully) into the trash bin, as they do with their own.
The three of them lay like that, Taehyung and Jungkook curled up under one of Yoongi’s arms, and there will be time later for a bath, and for massages, and whatever other pampering the two of them could possibly require from him.
But for now,
“Let me take the two of you on a date.”
Jungkook squeaks. Taehyung snickers,
“Took you fucking long enough to ask.”