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Being on his knees with a cock in his mouth first thing in the morning wasn’t exactly what Jungkook envisioned.

But it seemed Taehyung was in control of his fate, and as life would have it, Jungkook found himself dragged to the office, pushed to his knees, and soon enough, Taehyung was fucking his face. Nothing too unusual.

Except one little fact.

 This was the most Jungkook’s gotten from Taehyung in the past four or so weeks. He found himself cringing at the thought, but he’s been feeling almost neglected, and for that he blamed Taehyung’s preparations for the long awaited Puissance show.

No, not exactly blamed. He couldn’t blame Taehyung for wanting to do well and investing his time into pursuing goals that Jungkook could only dream of. If anything, Jungkook should feel motivated, because if watching Taehyung go about his day and chasing his goals with so much fervor that he tended to zone out here and there was anything other than interesting, it was motivating.

Yet all Jungkook felt was wronged. A little unfairly, that’s for sure, but he felt wronged. Not in a conscious sense, no, but sometimes, when Taehyung had to run out of a lesson twenty minutes earlier, or when he wouldn’t even talk to Jungkook because in the speed he ran by him in the barn he didn’t notice him, or, when despite all this unintentional ( or so Jungkook hoped) ignorance, Taehyung still found a few minutes to get his dick sucked, it got Jungkook feeling a little uneasy.

To be fair though, Jungkook mused as he softly choked at the feeling of his throat tightening upon swallowing around Taehyung’s girth, it wasn’t all too negative. There are two sides of a coin, and if anything, his skills at sucking cock have become more than proficient, and he wasn’t going to say he didn’t enjoy it.

To put it simply, he was feeling neglected as a student and as a lover, but he felt that anyone with a modicum of respect would step back and let Taehyung do his thing, for he had numerous potent reasons as to why he was so busy.

So, swallowing his urges, and Taehyung’s precum, for that matter, he remained silent, kept his head back, and let Taehyung ram the living hell out of his jaw.

“Fuck, Jeon-” Taehyung gasped with unexpected loudness when Jungkook decided to take the speed of Taehyung’s thrust in his stride and hollowed his cheeks. If it weren’t for the cock in his mouth, Jungkook would smirk.

Taehyung’s grip on Jungkook’s hair remained relentless, almost turning violent, as Taehyung started using the younger’s hair as a guide and rhythm control, chasing his high with his head thrown back and eyes closed.

Look at me, Jungkook thought before he got a chance to stifle his mind, not wanting the neediness he’d told himself off for to bother him, especially right now. After all, he was hard as fuck too, but after the few weeks of minimal attention to his sexual needs, he accepted he was going to have to deal with it himself. Or perhaps, ask Jimin.

 A low grunt tore its way from Taehyung’s throat as he slowed his thrusts down, an irrefutable indicator of him getting closer to the edge, as he would always bring the pace down to give Jungkook a chance to work his magic. With the wordless command, Jungkook started putting his tongue to work, almost mechanically, much like when he started thinking about the technique of his riding when he was with Taehyung. Doing his best, doing what he knew would evoke a positive response and maybe even get him some praise.

Adding the movement to his head, he started swiping his tongue along the underside of Taehyung’s cock, only to snag it under the head and press it in the overly sensitive spot, which earned him a hiss from Taehyung. God, if he was being honest, it was humiliating. Humiliating how forgotten he’s been feeling yet gave it little to no effort to confront Taehyung, and still considered getting his throat rawed the highlight of his day.

He hummed when he felt Taehyung’s cock contract under his lips, and took a second to look up, as if to get some sort of a motivation to finish it, successfully finding it in the way Taehyung’s head was thrown back in bliss.

“Fuck, fuck- ah-“ Taehyung got out, a little voicelessly, before he pushed himself to the hilt, oblivious to the tears springing in Jungkook’s eyes. Despite the tears, though, Jungkook found himself having to choke back a moan of delight as he felt Taehyung’s cock harden, laying heavy on his tongue for a second, before it hit the back of his throat and with rhythmical pulsing, blew a dose of cum so surprisingly large down Jungkook’s throat, that Jungkook was actually impressed at how quickly he managed to swallow. It was morning, after all, and Jungkook supposed Taehyung hasn’t been getting too many chances to cum lately.

“Shit, Jeon, you’re a fucking lifesaver,” Taehyung sighed as he pulled Jungkook off his cock by the hair, casting his gaze upon Jungkook’s swollen, glistening lips and trails of tears running down his cheeks.

Jungkook coughed feebly, wiped his mouth and got up. He hummed as a sign of gratitude of sorts.

“Are you-“ Jungkook began, averting Taehyung’s eyes as he reached for a tissue to wipe his face better, “are you in a rush?” The tone of the question was tentative, so tentative Jungkook almost regretted it, because he thought it could have blown his cover. He didn’t want to reveal anything, nor bother Taehyung, but his curiosity and desperate hope to get some sort of attention from Taehyung was always in the win.

“Yeah,” Taehyung answered as he buckled his pants, and Jungkook swallowed dryly over the bitter taste of disappointment, “as if there wasn’t enough shit for me to deal with, I got this new horse on my hands. Got in yesterday, Seokjin said it’s a fucking devil’s spawn.”

Jungkook hummed in acknowledgement, not sure what to say next. It felt so out of place and so inappropriate to ask Taehyung for something as superficial and irrelevant as sex, when he knew that after the Puissance is done, it will go back to normal. Or so he hoped.

“Thank you,” Taehyung exhaled as he hastily walked over to the corner of the room to put his boots on, “shit fucking sucks when I wake up horny, but I’ve been so busy that the only thing on my dick right now are the fuckers from DHS.” He spat it out quite resentfully, considering ‘the fuckers from DHS’ were organizing Million’s stalling during the show. Jungkook snorted at that.

“I know,” he murmured, looking down, and still frustratingly hard, but by now, sadly, trained to ignore it. So maybe he was being dramatic, and what about it. After getting A class dick on the regular, one comes to miss it. Jungkook only considered that natural.

“I have to run,” Taehyung said quickly as he zipped his other boot, “I still have to lunge that fucker before I get to ride. Might even hop on him, you never know.” Taehyung said it in a voice so cheerful and excited, that Jungkook momentarily remembered how Taehyung loved riding Helena through her bucking fits, purely because he found it entertaining.

He walked over to Jungkook and in a gesture a little softer than Jungkook would have expected, swiped his thumb over the younger’s cheek. Jungkook gave him a soft smile.

“Pull yourself together, Jeon,” Taehyung said almost kindly, and Jungkook had to physically stop himself from leaning into his touch. Then Taehyung dropped his hand, gave Jungkook one more telltale look and left the office, leaving Jungkook behind.

It was a downer, really. Not that Jungkook was feeling jealous, or unloved, or whatever. They were not dependent of each other, he reminded himself. Jungkook had considered, and then practiced, going to Jimin for the treats, which the dressage rider welcomed more than willingly, but Jimin was even more of a bottom than Jungkook, and it had never occurred to him that he doesn’t always have to be the one to take it. And, naturally, Jungkook was too shy, or perhaps to reserved, to explicitly tell him. A funny thing, considering he’d had his mouth on about ninety percent of Jimin’s body, but there was still the ever-lasting feeling that Jimin was someone who Jungkook should be mildly nervous around.

With a deep sigh, Jungkook stretched his arms above his head. There wasn’t a lot to do, anyway, all he could do was wait. A small, tempting seed of mischief bit at his mind that tried to convince him to give Taehyung a little nudge, but fuck, his morality was strong and in the way. He sighed once again. Fuck this.

He yawned, remembering he hadn’t slept much as he agreed to get to the barn sooner in the morning to help around with anything he could, because you know how it works, the more someone neglects you, even if unintentionally, the more you want to be up their ass. Jungkook was no different. And what, he’d admit it.

He looked around the office in a senseless attempt to find something to do. It was only around nine o’clock, too, so he absolutely didn’t feel like riding, especially with the looming threat of Helena firing him to the moon, given how fresh she always was in the morning.

He considered running to the showers to wake him up a little and get rid of his boner, but he sort of lost the enthusiasm. Once fucking again, he sighed.

Finding nothing better to do, he made the decision to roam the barn and hit the arena, hoping to catch someone he knew besides Taehyung, because he wanted to talk to someone, but obviously, Taehyung was not up for that task.

Much to his delight, he found Jimin in the arena standing a little to the side, as in the middle, Taehyung was very lowkey struggling to lunge a lean, fairly small grey horse. Jungkook tilted his head to the side, an involuntary and guilty grin creeping on his face when the horse drifted to the side, threw its head up and kicked to the inside, causing Taehyung to be slightly yanked in the motion.

Jungkook leaned on the gate and tried to hide his shit-eating grin while he watched, or at least until Jimin noticed him and walked over to him.

“Hey,” Jimin greeted him as he leaned on the gate from the other side right next to Jungkook, his eyes still fixated on Taehyung trying to get the horse to lunge nicely. “Came to watch the shitshow?”

“I fucking heard that,” Taehyung noted, right before he tutted at the horse when it yanked its head again. “Come do it yourself, Charlotte.”

“I’ll pass, George,” Jimin said with a bright smile, and Jungkook wheezed lightly when in midst of the chaos, Taehyung still took the effort to hold the lunge line in one hand to raise a middle finger at Jimin with the other.

Jungkook observationally slid his eyes over the horse to realize it was a gelding, quite small but lean, with obvious spring in his step, now finally cantering steadily. The broadness of his forehead and narrow muzzle pretty much gave away his breed, and the flared nostrils and high tail carriage signed for his current energetic mood.

“How did he end up here?” Jungkook asked conversationally, swiping his index finger over the surface of the gate, leaving a clean trail in the dirt. Jimin cleared his throat.

“You know Yoongi?”

Jungkook paused. “Yoongi? As in, Hoseok’s Yoongi?”

Jimin not-so-subtly rolled his eyes, but nodded nevertheless. “Yes, that Yoongi.”

Jungkook nodded as well. “Okay, yeah, him. What’s with him?”

“So, he was supposed to buy him, oh,” Jimin began, slipping a sound of appreciation when Taehyung managed to bring the horse to a trot, “but he only had him for a day when Yoongi, and Hoseok, for that matter, decided they ain’t got time for this shit. You know, getting engaged and all.”

Jungkook nodded, fondly remembering how last month, shortly after Hoseok started riding again, he had proposed to Yoongi. Since that day, Hoseok had been spending less time in the barn and more time at his and Yoongi’s ranch, because as he said, ‘he’s so fucking in love right now that he’s going to sacrifice a few hours of riding to be with his little barrel racer.’ They were so fucking sweet Jungkook considered stabbing himself with an insulin shot every time Hoseok opened his mouth.

“Anyway,” Jimin continued, “Hoseok, being the galaxy brain that he is, suggested Taehyung as a solution for this, because, you know. He likes to deal with anything that closely resembles a complete fuckery.”

Jungkook let out a laugh at that, nodding. It was indeed true, because moments after Jimin finished the sentence, the horse lost the relaxed trot that Taehyung worked so hard on and bounced off into canter, accentuating his statement with a buck. Taehyung growled at him, immediately followed by a ‘shh’, served more as a command than a soothing sound, yet still had a glimmer in his eyes that suggested he was immensely enjoying it.

“Except Hobi kind of forgot Taehyungie here has his hands full with the show,” Jimin sighed, almost sympathetically, then his expression blanked in annoyance, “and he also forgot that Taehyung is a fucking dumbass that won’t say no to a challenge.”

Jungkook couldn’t refrain from smiling, agreeing with Jimin’s statement.

“Hey Jeon,” Taehyung’s voice echoed in the moment of calmness when he finally managed to get the horse to canter steadily, his head low with the trademark bend of an Arabian’s neck. Jungkook lifted his head.

“Come try him,” Taehyung said, grinning widely and baring his teeth, “Arabs are your thing, right?”

Jungkook’s response to him was a profoundly sour face and sarcastic nod of his head. He redirected his gaze to the animal. While the horse was not giving Taehyung the best of him, Jungkook actually had a chance to admire the grace of his movement. Arabs had something in them that equally fascinated and terrified Jungkook. Maybe that’s how he ended up with a diluted version of an Arab, though he wasn’t sure if Helena could be called diluted in any context.

“So what now?” Jungkook turned to Jimin. “Is he going to just train him or buy him?”

Jimin hummed. “Probably just train him. Though you never know with Taehyung, I can literally see his ass itching to get on.”

“Oh, such resent,” Taehyung barked when he heard the last of Jimin’s tone, glaring at him.

“How old is he?” Jungkook asked to take the topic to something else and snip off any quarrel that was boiling between Jimin and Taehyung at the bud. And also out of genuine curiosity.

“Nine,” Jimin replied, with the same sympathetic tone as before. Jungkook involuntarily let out a small sound.

“Where is he imported from?” Jungkook asked, just as the horse apparently decided he’s had enough of this relaxed canter bullshit and sped up to the point of his gait becoming almost two-beat, not forgetting to spice it up with a kick that moved Taehyung an inch or two in the sand.

Jimin, watching this display with scrunched eyebrows and lips pressed into a line, just wearily replied: “Hell, probably.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Taehyung let himself be known, “just because you can’t handle anything that moves faster than ten miles per hour.”

“The car I’ll be driving you to the hospital with after mister Batshit here breaks your neck will certainly be going over ten miles per hour,” Jimin muttered

“Batshit would be a cool name,” Jungkook noted. “What’s his actual name?”

“Mountain’s Creed,” Taehyung answered in between woahs, trying to get the horse to come down to trot again, surprisingly successful, “boujee ass fucker, it’s like he’s a royalty or something. I call him Derby.”

Taehyung started shortening the lung line, effectively bringing Derby to a shorter trot. His light grey coat carried signs of sweating, dark patches on his neck and foam between his hind legs, but the huff tearing from his nostrils signaled satisfaction and a final decrease of energy. Jungkook wondered how is it that Taehyung can always get a horse to do anything he wants.

“Bet he’s going to ride him tomorrow,” Jimin grumbled, palming on his face. “The smallest sign of obedience and Taehyung already thinks he has a Shetland on his hands.”

“First of all,” Taehyung interjected as he lightly swung the rope to prompt Derby to keep trotting, as the horse now seemed almost reluctant to keep going, presumably as a consequence of running all his beans out, “I’m going to ride him the day after tomorrow, he’s still not used to anything here. Second of all, the amount of hours I still have to ride through with Million is more than I am convinced is in a day.” He wiped his forehead, the trickle of sweat from the strain on his arms from Derby’s earlier circus sliding down his temple.

“And third of all,”  Taehyung said with a sour face, “I’d rather fucking die than get on a Shetland. My specialization are interesting, green, and hard to train horses. If you want a Shetland, call the exorcist for that. ”

“Sometimes I just wonder if you listen to the words coming out of your mouth,” Jimin sighed, gesturing towards Derby who got profoundly pissed at the ground after he tripped and proceeded to get back at it by stomping. Taehyung laughed.

Jimin shook his head lightly, accompanied by a mumble of something. Then he turned to Jungkook, head leaned back to look him over properly.

“And what’s with you, huh?” he asked with somewhat of a scrutiny, though pretty much aware of what was going on. “Still dick deprived?”

Jungkook emitted a small snort from the back of his throat, hoping Taehyung didn’t hear Jimin’s question. He sighed. “Sort of,” he admitted, albeit he was unsure whether having a dick down his throat less than an hour ago could be classified as dick deprivation.

“Don’t take it personal or anything,” Jimin said airily, crossing his arms on his chest. His eyes were focused ahead, somewhere in the distance, even passing the point of Taehyung and Derby. “He has a lot of it right now. It’s not that he’s never done a Puissance, but he’s ready to tackle his personal this time.”

A small, fond smile appeared on Jimin’s face. “Always pushing his limits, this guy.”

Jungkook gave him a barely noticeable nod, fixing his eyes on Taehyung. Really, Taehyung was never one to settle for less, or even, the average. He always set his goals higher, aimed for more than one could deem possible, focused on always getting ten percent more than the most. Never satisfied, never tired. And that was one of his essences that got Jungkook equally intrigued and intimidated, right from day one.

“He’ll get back to you when the things are calmer,” Jimin said in a quiet, reassuring tone. “When most of the big stuff is off his plate. He’s giving you less time than he’d like, trust me on that.”

Jungkook wasn’t sure whether he really should trust Jimin on that. He’s never considered Taehyung especially invested in giving Jungkook time for the sake of it rather than just to get a good fuck, and it was nothing emotional, either. Which was, of course, fine by him. But it was kind of like a friend with benefits ditching you. He was also pretty sure that Jimin wasn’t talking about that matter only; Taehyung also hasn’t been investing too much in the lessons. Jungkook, for the hundredth time that day, sighed.

Meanwhile, Taehyung in the arena got Derby on a shorter lung line, clicking his tongue repeatedly and casting the horse with words of praise.

He whipped his head at Jungkook and jerked it as a gesture to call Jungkook to him. “Come over here, Jeon. I wanna show you what you should achieve with Helena, you know, the shit we talked about last week.”

Jungkook nodded hurriedly and got to opening the gate, but was stopped by a hand on his shoulder. He turned around at Jimin.

“I’m gonna go,” Jimin announced, and after earning a goodbye nod from Taehyung, he lowered his voice, and leaned in to Jungkook.

“In the meantime,” he said quietly, leaning right into Jungkook’s ear and sending a tickle of goosebumps down his neck, “I could help you out with that. You know I’m always down.”

With a small glint in his eyes and a drop of his hand from Jungkook’s shoulder to his waist, he turned around and left, teasingly dragging his hand from Jungkook’s waist upon his movement. The shiver that sent down Jungkook’s back pumped right back to his heart, which seemed to beat a little faster right away. He remained standing frozen for a short moment, breath catching in his throat only to come back in short and shallow pants the next second.

Fuck, call him sexually frustrated, but just this small gesture from Jimin got him feeling things.

“Oh my god, come on,” Taehyung hollered from the arena, shaking Jungkook back into reality.

“What is it?” Jungkook hummed as he came over to Taehyung, successfully avoiding Derby who sent out a little kick, perhaps out of dismay that a new person has decided to disturb the zone he started viewing comfortable.

“This,” Taehyung said at nothing in particular, but shortened the lunge line and started clicking his tongue, effectively matching the beats of Derby’s trot. “See the way his hind falls right into the print of his front? That’s how you know he’s got a pace, right?”

Taehyung looked over at Jungkook to confirm his understanding, and after earning a nod from the younger, he continued. “Helena generally has no trouble with getting a good pace, she exceeds it, even. It’s important from both sides, when a horse is rushing, you take it down to maintain energy. When a horse is just dragging its toes, you need to work up enough of a movement to achieve this.”

Jungkook tilted his head lightly to change the angle of vision, because from the constant watching of hooves alternating in the sand his eyes started swimming. Aside from that, there was still a shiver on his skin and Jimin’s ghost touch. He was pissed at himself, for the focus was being split between Taehyung’s words and his own horniness.

“But,” Taehyung went on and gently tugged on the lunge line, oblivious to Jungkook’s slight zoning out, “that’s neither Helena’s or his case, so about the distribution and usage of power…”

He trailed off and clucked, applying small tugs of pressure on the lunge line with flicks of his fingers, nodding approvingly when Derby relaxed his head and bent his neck inwards, giving Taehyung quite the collection for only being on a lunge line.

 “What we want to get with a generally quicker or fresh horse, is that you want to pack up the energy and use it for your benefit. You get jack fucking shit when a horse is just rushing and running with no organization, which is pretty often Helena’s case,” Taehyung commented, for which he earned a sheepish nod from Jungkook, who has finally managed to tune it a little more. It was nothing short of true, a countless examples of when Helena sped around a course with excessive energy and tragically insufficient organization.

“So this is what I’d like to see more of,” Taehyung said and pointed, ”the efficient usage or energy. He’s still pretty clueless, but I’d say he has a really good predisposition for managing the energy, at least in trot”

Taehyung made a barely noticeable movement with his fingers, letting the lunge line slip out ever so slightly. With the elongation of the lunge line came an elongation in the trot, and inevitably, a disturbance of the flow of the gait. Taehyung frowned and cursed.

“He fucked that up. See? There’s still tension in his back, because his step is not as flowy as we’d like.” Taehyung pointed to the front of Derby’s body, where the horse was slowly going back to steadying the trot, and Jungkook almost missed what Taehyung meant, almost missed how his front legs were a little snappy in their step, how his body rocked a little more downwards than forward.

“But overall,” Taehyung went on, “it was pretty nice. I want to see that on Helena. I want to see that energy compressed and organized, not just being emitted.”

Jungkook nodded, thankfully understanding what Taehyung was saying. There were good days when he had the privilege of riding Helena right after Taehyung flatted her, and the way she used herself over jumps was unrecognizable. She felt smoother, slower, but never less loaded, blissfully manageable through the strides but never in a decrease of power. And he’d be damned if those rides weren’t the best.

“How do I achieve that, though?” Jungkook couldn’t help but ask. “It’s always you that gets her into that state.”

Taehyung laughed fondly. “Rein work and seat, my friend. But we won’t get into that now, you need to hear that while you’re on her.”

Derby started slowing down again, snorting here and there. His nostrils relaxed a bit, but he still carried his tail high and his legs bouncy, though the energy seemed to decrease on the hind end.

“Look, this is perfect example of distribution here,” Taehyung jerked his head towards Derby’s hind end, and clicked his tongue to bring the pace up just a bit. “He was actually doing quite well with the distribution, but he’s getting a little tired, so he’s starting to rely on the forehand and dragging his hind just a tiny bit. I mean, it also depends on how a horse is built, right? He’s a little more downhill, so he feels better on the forehand. Can you see the difference?”

“Yeah,” Jungkook affirmed, actually clearly seeing how the motor of Derby’s movement transferred to the front.

“And that’s what we don’t want,” Taehyung announced and started repeatedly clicking his tongue which successfully got Derby’s hind legs working better, “but it’s harder off the ground. It’s way more efficient when you’re on and use your seat to make him rock back, which forces him to carry his weight on his hind more, we’ll get into that when you’re in the saddle.”

Jungkook already started imagining all the disaster scenarios that were bound to happen when he tries some advanced shit on Helena.

“Which reminds me, might have to work on this a bit more with Million,” Taehyung sighed and repeated a few woahs, softly brining Derby to a power walk, “doesn’t have as much motor in his ass as he should have, at least for jumping a fucking seven feet wall.”

Yet again, Jungkook was reminded what Taehyung is trying to tackle here. Seven feet? Fucking shit.

The horse snorted happily, ears perked up and turning, finally calm and relaxed. Taehyung gestured towards the animal, a small smile appearing on his face.

“His body is in a good state to be ridden right now,” Taehyung noted and turned to Jungkook, “relaxed, warmed up, engaged.”

He wishfully clicked his tongue and pursed his lips. “Tragically enough, there’s the five hours I have to ride with Million today, the trailering paperwork and new hay coming in, but the hay is coming in while I’m gonna be riding Million, and the trailer that we were supposed to take got a flat tyre so now I have to pay the deposit for that too, ” Taehyung complained as he palmed on his face.

Jungkook almost felt guilty for the way his mind kept being preoccupied with sexual frustration when Taehyung had bigger fish to fry. He fully understood it, anyone with common sense would, but his dumb, horny side couldn’t miss Taehyung’s shirt revealing his neck, nor the licking of his lips, and definitely not anything that came with cream breeches. Jungkook was so pissed at himself for his breath getting shorter and mouth getting dry every time he was closer to Taehyung that he considered simply avoiding him until the show is over.

“I’m gonna hose him down and ride Million, do you wanna come? Could be good for you,” Taehyung offered as he called Derby over. The horse came surprisingly obediently, and Taehyung patted his sweaty neck with a genuine smile.

I sure fucking do wanna come, Jungkook thought, and walked closer to let Derby sniff his hand. The horse curiously backed up, touching Jungkook’s hand ever so lightly with his nose, but eventually let himself be stroked on the nose.

Jungkook smiled for himself, and after he stopped petting the horse, Taehyung turned to him with his teeth sunk in his bottom lip.

“So?”

Jungkook gulped drily, giving it all of his effort to not grab Taehyung by the neck and make out with him until either of them breaks and they fuck right there.

He shook his head, cleaning his mind. Self-control is key. “I’ll pass, thanks,” Jungkook replied, giving Taehyung a fairly unconvincing smile.

Taehyung shrugged. “Fine then. If you change your mind, you know where I’ll be. See you.”

He turned to leave, with the horse following him.

And as Jungkook instantly failed the self-control part and glued his eyes to Taehyung’s ass, he already had a pretty solid idea of where he’ll be.

____________________________

The telltale banging of a loose door being rhythmically rammed into its frame resonated around the locker room, accompanied by a pair of weltering breaths and moans filling up the air.

“Ha-harder-“

Jungkook gripped Jimin’s slender waist in iron grip, securing his sweat-slick body to match the power of his thrusts, as he rammed his cock into Jimin in an increasing pace.

The second Taehyung had left the arena, Jungkook bolted the hell out, aiming it straight to the dressage end. With fervor that caught Jimin mildly surprised but definitely pleased, Jungkook grabbed the dressage rider by the wrist, dragged him to the locker room, slammed him into the door, and proceeded to fuck him like a ragdoll.

Jimin was always vocal, Jungkook knew that, but today, he was overcoming himself. Palming at the flat surface of the door, Jimin trembled with the force of Jungkook’s thrusts, perhaps so powerful due to his frustration, and his throat was constantly emitting high-pitched, quivery moans and pleas that echoed off the locker room walls. Jungkook tightened his grip, momentarily lowering his head to take a second and appreciate the way Jimin’s ass swallowed his cock up, slick and tight, and fuck, did it feel good.

He threw his head back in delight, a low groan escaping his lips, instantly followed by an especially powerful ‘fuck!’ from Jimin, when Jungkook’s cock hit his prostate in a perfect angle, one that always got Jimin’s thighs spasming even before he came.

“Fuck-fuck, yeah,” Jimin never let go of his pleas, once again helplessly palming at the door and even resorting to grabbing at the handle with almost scary rigor, because he was getting fucked so well he could barely stand. Jungkook knew that, Jungkook knew he could use his dick well.

He could use it pretty fucking great, especially when it came to Jimin. And Jimin could work it, alright. It had happened more than once, and it was always absolutely amazing, especially when Jimin came to Jungkook horny as fuck, clingy and begging to get fucked at the spot. Jungkook was more of a bottom, and generally submissive at heart, but fuck, when a whole Park Jimin came up to him in the tack room, grabbed him by the cock and whispered that he’s been horny the entire day and needs to get his ass railed, it was quite enough to persuade him.

Except today, the tables have turned, and it was Jungkook who was pretty much fully hard when he ran up to Jimin. The real deficiency in his life was a cock up his ass, sure, but for now, just for these few minutes, his body would surely be appeased with this. And so, he ended up pounding Jimin into the door.

“Y-yeah, yeah, god-“ Jimin went on relentlessly, eyebrows scrunched and mouth unhinged, “I’m fucking close, harder-“

Jungkook took in a sharp inhale as he slid his left hand, previously planted in Jimin’s silver, damp locks, to his side, now steadily holding him around the waist and wasted no time using his grip as a guide to ram Jimin’s body against his. He licked his lips with relish at the way Jimin’s ass jiggled against his hips with each impact, turning cherry red from the repeated contact with his skin. He tentatively changed the angle of his thrust, to which Jimin instantly responded.

“Shit! God- yeah, more-“ Jimin whimpered against the door, and generously granted Jungkook with a momentary blackout from pleasure when he clenched around Jungkook’s cock, receiving pressure in all the right places.

“Fuck, Jimin-“ Jungkook attempted a warning of sorts, mostly because he could feel his orgasm coming for him, the well-known tingle rippling through his body and blanking his mind.

“Yeah- inside, please, please-“

Jungkook knew Jimin wanted him to cum inside, he always did, he always begged to get filled up, and Jungkook would be damned if Jimin’s wiped out face when he got pumped full of cum wasn’t one of the hottest things he’d ever witnessed.

Jungkook reached forward in an attempt to help Jimin reach his orgasm, blindly reaching for his cock, but got weakly pushed away, his hand stopped by Jimin’s own smaller one, shaking with exhaustion and pleasure.

“No, god- untouched, I’ll come untouched,” Jimin panted with his eyes squeezed, and Jungkook could do nothing more than dumbly nod his head and groan, the struggle of his quivering legs so evident and so painful, but so fucking pleasurable.

It took no more than a few well-aimed thrusts right to Jimin’s prostate, and he was coming in white ribbons right on the surface of the door, his body stuck in convulsions and tongue damn near hanging out. Prompted by the delicious pressure around the girth of his cock, Jungkook followed with a low, broken moan, pushing himself to the hilt. His orgasm took him violently, boiling every single worry about sexual frustration out of his brain for just this little while, and he clenched his fingers on Jimin’s waist hard enough to leave marks.  As he strained forward in a cramp, his belly tightening, he made sure he could see Jimin’s face when he came.

Surely enough, the second Jungkook came, maybe even before that, upon feeling the flexing of Jungkook’s cock and the consequent explosion of warmth against his walls, Jimin lost himself to a long, shaky groan, his eyes rolling back in an expression of dumbing delight.

It took a second for both of them to come back to earth from their high, especially Jimin, who was still caught in some sort of involuntary spasm, his thighs quietly trembling. The heat of the moment was so evident now, their sweat-slick skin emitting so much warmth from the beads of sweat that Jungkook found it hard to take in air. He sucked for it hungrily, giving his best effort to ignore the roar of blood in his ears and his heartbeat pulsing in multiple places in his body.

“Fuck, you’re throbbing,” Jimin voiced out his thoughts with almost tragical tone in his voice, “pull out or I’ll get hard again.”

Jungkook let out a weak, wheezy laugh, and proceeded with Jimin’s request. Upon the movement, a small hiss escaped both of them, immediately followed by a long, breathy ‘mnh-’ from Jimin when he felt cum slide down his thighs.

“Ah, shit-,” Jimin moaned quietly, still with the same rueful tone, and Jungkook almost had to laugh.

Jimin was a damn exemplar when it came to sex, especially like this. Jimin always commented everything, always let everyone know how he was feeling, mainly when he liked what he was feeling. It always served to get Jungkook’s heart rate up even if it was decreasing, always stirred something in his stomach, because it was so, so easy to be turned on by Jimin.

Jungkook hummed, mostly to get Jimin, who was still stuck in his slightly bent over position against the door, to move.

“Fuck, I have no words,” Jimin breathed with a small giggle, “that was so fucking good.”

Jungkook huffed in weak agreement as he began to stumble to the showers. A minute pang of worry shot through his chest, because he knew that once the striking levels of dopamine in his body tone down, he would start thinking again. He would start being dissatisfied again, and he didn’t want it. He didn’t fucking want it, but it was so painfully inevitable that he practically started slipping into it involuntarily. God, he was being really, really fucking dramatic.

Carefully, he stepped into the shower, with Jimin shamelessly following him. The hum of water running drowned out the silence Jungkook wanted to avoid, but also effectively woke up all the memories of Taehyung fucking the consciousness out of him in the showers so, so many times.

It was evident Jimin was feeling little to none of the tension that slowly but surely started plaguing Jungkook, and with carefree and relaxed motions, he started washing himself up.

Jungkook mindlessly slid his gaze over Jimin’s body, his eyes dumbly following the motion of Jimin’s hands gliding over his body, and his mind clouded a little.

Fuck, Jimin was fucking hot. It was no secret, it was no riddle, anyone with eyes could see. He had an absolutely ravishing waist, rising to a toned chest, adorned by the two pink nubs of his nipples that Jimin was so deliciously sensitive to, topped with clean, silky neck, collarbones and jaw, so tempting to bite, with skin so smooth it got one’s mouth salivating to think about kissing it. He had a plump, thick ass that was practically made to take cock, made to be squeezed and spanked, followed by the suppleness of his muscular yet soft thighs. Jungkook’s sight traveled to Jimin’s face, symmetrical and throat-cutting features, his round and full lips that looked and felt oh-so-wonderful wrapped around his cock, and for a second, Jungkook’s mind was in a small war.

Why?  Why, when Jimin was sex personified, he still felt as if he was lacking something?

Maybe because he was, his mind offered, and he knew what it was. He knew it was a cock up his ass, rawing his walls until he went limp. It was being manhandled so hard his entire body was aching the next day, it was being slammed into the nearest surface and pounded from the back like a piece of meat, and it was with great regret that he realized that this was something Jimin could not give him.

Jimin could give him a soul-snatching blowjob, Jimin could ride his cock until he was seeing stars and losing his breath, Jimin could deepthroat him so hard he wasn’t sure how many times he’d come. Jimin could do so, so much, and it was always highly welcome, but it was never hundred percent.

It was never what Taehyung could do to him, and fuck, he couldn’t wait until the show was over.

Because Taehyung could do unbelievable shit to him, Taehyung could get him hard and shaking in the middle of the barn with but a touch or a whisper, Taehyung could rail him like the sorry whore he was, Taehyung could mark him, control him, ruin him, and god fucking damn it, he missed it.

“Is..is everything okay?” Jungkook got ripped out of his thoughts by Jimin’s careful, inquiring voice, and he raised his head to notice the smaller man looking at him questioningly.

Jungkook found himself nodding hurriedly, pulling a small smile.

“Yeah,” he replied, and reached for the shower gel bottle to occupy himself. “Just thinking.”

Jimin, seeing right through his shit as usual, sighed melodramatically.

“Yeah, I know, you want Taehyung to rearrange your guts,” Jimin hummed and shook his head gently. Jungkook snorted, sliding his hands over his stomach and thighs, washing off the sweat and dried body fluids. He grimaced.

“I-“

“I get it, Jungkook. Okay? I fucking get it,” Jimin interrupted him with a sigh, sounding almost irked. Jungkook wasn’t going to say that didn’t catch him off guard, especially when Jimin put his hands on his hips, the gesture strangely comical with Jimin being naked and with traces of soap on his chest.

Then, he looked up at Jungkook, his expression softening momentarily, but his voice remained sure and firm.

“I get it,” he continued, “because I’ve been fucking him for some time. I get it, because I know he’s fucking amazing, I get it, because I know what it feels like to have him fuck you six ways to Sunday until you can’t see. And trust me, when he’s free, I’ll go get some right away. But damn it, Jungkook, not to sound full of myself, or anything…” he trailed off, his face softening some more.

He looked up, just for a second, avoiding Jungkook’s face, only to refocus on it again, and went on: “But don’t you think I’m pretty great to fuck?”

Jungkook’s lips twitched in a weary smile.

“You are, Jimin,” he replied simply, reaching for the shorter man, and ran his hand through Jimin’s silver locks. “You’re pretty fucking amazing to fuck.”

He was not lying. There was not a single untrue word in what Jungkook said. Jimin was incredible to fuck. There was no discussing it and no doubting it, Jungkook was painfully aware. With one small problem – currently, all Jungkook wanted was to take Jimin’s place and get pounded, get ruined, and he’d be damned if the sight of Jimin’s blissed out face while he was getting dicked down wasn’t making him envious.

Jimin, despite a blush that crept on his face as always when he got praised, remained looking serious. “So what’s the problem? I know you want to get fucked, god, it’s obvious that you’re in serious need of a good dicking,” he sighed fondly, and reached for Jungkook’s hand in his hair, sternly pushing it down, down, until Jungkook’s palm hugged the supple curve of Jimin’s ass, sprinkled with water droplets.

Jimin made a small step, just a tiny one, enough to stretch his neck and place his lips millimeters from Jungkook’s neck, right under his ear. Upon feeling his hot breath tickle his wet skin, Jungkook took in a sharp breath, his mouth falling ajar. Jimin was, once again, coming for him. Jimin always got what he wanted, because Jimin was persuasive.

“But for now, pretty,” Jimin dragged, his voice drastically changing from serious to sultry, dripping like syrup, and Jungkook found his breath catching in his throat at the name Jimin granted him with, one that started it all, “this is what we’re left with. And I like it. I like it a lot. So until our favourite eight incher is available, you’ll have to make the most of what you have.”

Mind wiped out, Jungkook automatically squeezed Jimin’s ass, fingers running over the smooth, soft skin. Jimin, seemingly very pleased with how his persuasion was going, pinned Jungkook’s hand on his ass, forcing him to squeeze harder, to knead, to grab. And Jungkook did, god, he did.

“Because let’s be honest,” Jimin now whispered, his lips running along the side of Jungkook’s neck, accompanied by a quivering inhale of delight when Jungkook’s fingers teasingly ran over his hole, still fluttering with need and sensitivity from their previous action,  “it’s not like it should be a punishment to hold on just a while longer. Don’t tell me you’re not seeing stars when you pound my ass, pretty.”

Crowning his statement, Jimin latched his lips right under Jungkook’s jaw and started kissing it, granting it with a gentle scrape of his teeth, ever so often a bite. Jungkook tilted his head to the side, giving Jimin access, and he cursed the sensitivity of his neck when he felt his cock twitch in interest after Jimin planted a painful yet blindingly pleasurable hickey right into the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, you’re unbelievable,” Jungkook breathed, admitting defeat, and as he moved his other hand to Jimin’s ass, Jimin pulled a smirk that went unnoticed.

“I know,” Jimin sighed, the grin evident in his tone. He never ceased his ministrations, still sucking on the skin of Jungkook’s neck, even going as far as pushing up against him harder, closer, until they were aligned with every single body part.

And for now, Jungkook had to admit that it could be handled somehow. Although with awareness that his pathetic neediness is going to come back, for now, it could be handled.

“Now, fuck me again,” Jimin breathed, almost aggressively pawing at Jungkook’s nape to pull his head down and crash their lips in a tangling mess of breaths, “fuck me again, fuck me any way you like, so it makes the wait easier for you.”

It might have been just the heat of the moment, and the fact that he was aware of it, must have meant something, it definitely must have meant something. Jungkook knew it would come back eventually, he knew that once he gets home tonight, he’ll have to shove something up his ass to satiate the need, he knew that when he sees Taehyung anytime soon, his cock will get a heartbeat again.

But as he firmed the grip on Jimin’s ass and pressed their bodies together, smashing the heat between their chests and letting their now fully hard cocks rub against each other, he would swear he there was no Taehyung on his mind.

______________________________

Jungkook walked out of the locker room with messy hair, empty balls, and three hickeys on his neck.

So naturally, it was a perfect constellation for running into Taehyung in the first ten seconds.

It seemed as though Taehyung missed his disheveled appearance at first, and Jungkook wanted to sprint, to avoid conversation, to not be there. God, was this karma?

But it was blatantly obvious that Taehyung knew too well what went on, an eyebrow raised in some sort of a pitiful expression being an evidence of it. Nothing ever slipped past him, Jungkook knew it, though he doubted that his fucked out appearance would slip past anyone.

“Wow,” Taehyung exclaimed, something resembling a smirk playing on his lips, “okay.”

There was no bite in his voice, yet Jungkook sensed a touch of passive aggression, and he would swear he saw Taehyung’s jaw clench before anything. Or maybe he was imagining it.

“Taehyung-“ Jungkook attempted, his hand almost flying up to pull up his collar and hide that one hickey that he knew Jimin placed way too high on his neck, flush creeping up his face.

“I mean, if you consider this more enriching than coming to watch how to properly engage the hind end in the saddle, be my fucking guest,” Taehyung said with a snort and light shake of his head, and there was nothing in the world that Jungkook wished for more than to disappear off the face of the Earth.

“No, that’s not it-“ Jungkook tried again, his face falling apart in complete shame, “I just-“

“Just what?” Taehyung turned to him, crossing his arms on his chest, something Jungkook has learned to recognize as a gesture of stubbornness.

He remained silent, chewing on his lip from the inside. Just what? How the fuck could he justify this?

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Listen, Jeon,” Taehyung sighed, pinching the root of his nose, but the smile returned to his face unexpectedly, “I don’t- god, I don’t care, okay? I’m busy, you’re horny. Just thought it was fucking funny to go here rather than basically get a free lesson. I was gonna let you get on Million towards the end, but okay.”

In that moment, Jungkook officially lost the control of his hand and hid his face into his palm, consumed by how fucking stupid he felt. The crowned idiot of the year, really. It was always like that, always, once he’s orgasmed and had a clear head, everything seemed different, and every single choice seemed better than the one he’d made.

“Why-“ Jungkook squeaked, feeling so frustratingly dumb and regretful that he wasn’t even able to finish the question. Why would Taehyung let him ride Million, why-

“Because,” Taehyung said, clapping his hands to accentuate, “I wanted you to see it, and then, after you’ve seen and listened to the theory of it, to try it. I wanted you to try it on a horse that responds to the cues and engages his hind end, so you could feel what it’s like when it works.”

Jungkook nodded with a sigh so profoundly dramatic, that Taehyung giggled.

“God, Jeon,” he laughed, “it’s not the end of the fucking world.”

Jungkook nodded again, pursing his lips, but none of his tragic expression went down, prompting Taehyung to tut.

“Oh come on,” Taehyung rolled his eyes and out of nowhere, landed a small smack on Jungkook’s ass. Jungkook jumped, a small yelp escaping him. Absolutely not, he thought when his body took all of a millisecond to react, a tingle zapping through his lower body, the familiarity of it so annoyingly effective.

Rolling his eyes again, Taehyung snickered: “I’ll ride tomorrow again. And the day after tomorrow, and the day after that too.” Upon finishing the statement, his eyes smile comically dropped and his eyes widened, showing some of the first signs of panic Jungkook had ever seen on him.

“Fuck,” Taehyung spat out, “I only have four days. Oh my fuck.”

Jungkook, once again, was overwhelmed by the shame he felt from feeling like his needs weren’t satisfied, when in reality, they were something so insignificant, and all that was asked from him was a little bit of patience, and maybe chastity, while Taehyung was the one with actual worries on his  hands. Taehyung had three days before the Puissance, not to mention they had to trailer out the day before the actual show, so the time pressure was setting in heavy on him, and Jungkook was being so ignorant towards it, that at that moment, he swore he’s not going to bother Taehyung in any way until the show is done with. Not with his thoughts, that ultimately only bothered himself, not with his own sexual frustration, hell, maybe not even the lessons.

“You’re gonna kill it, as always,” Jungkook said quietly, in an attempt to ease the mood and make himself feel less shitty. He looked down, trying to prevent his gaze from sliding all over Taehyung’s body. Selfish.

He heard Taehyung snort, almost scoff.

“I know,” he said, and Jungkook had to smile fondly at the typical ‘Taehyung’ attitude, “I’m still fucking stressed.”

When Jungkook finally looked up, Taehyung had a gentle look on his face, though unreadable in a way, and he scrutinized Jungkook from head to toe. There seemed to be something sitting on his tongue, evident from the way he kept poking his tongue around his mouth, and it got Jungkook wondering if he’s going to say it.

He almost made the first step to get Taehyung to say something, but was stopped by a hand on the side of his neck, fingers caressing his nape. He took in a sharp inhale, body unintentionally and automatically pressing forward to assert the desire for physical contact, one that he was so starved for when it came to Taehyung. It was tiring, how the rationality he wanted to have always ended up chucked on the floor the second Taehyung touched him. He wanted him so fucking much.

“Though I gotta say,” Taehyung hummed, and something dark flickered in his eyes, “that those are some wack ass hickeys.”

And with the spark those few words ignited in Jungkook’s body, with the need to speak and moan and beg that pushed on Jungkook’s tongue, Taehyung pulled away, instantly, as if he’d been burned by Jungkook’s skin.

Jungkook wanted to say something, wanted to, needed to, wanted to tell Taehyung to make them better, then-

“Tomorrow, two o’clock in the arena,” Taehyung said, now with a straight face, and turned around so fast Jungkook dipped his head to the side in confusion.

Before Taehyung sped from Jungkook’s sight, he ran his hand through his hair, faintly brushing the black headband on his forehead, and Jungkook couldn’t miss the way his hand came back to wipe his temples with the back of it.

Jungkook was caught in a dead end here, so confused by Taehyung’s behavior, when it was so odd and at the same time so predictable.  He shook his head for himself, and yanked the collar of his shirt a few times, suddenly feeling uneasy and too hot.

Oh, well.

Tomorrow is going to be a lot of fun, Jungkook mused, trying to breathe through the wave he got stuck in. Because he already knew that feeling like this, he won’t be able to focus on anything, let alone work with a horse like Million.

With a small knot in his chest, he set course for the tack room, half-excited to do some good old stress cleaning.

______________________________

 It was not the slightest of surprises when on the next day Jungkook barely walked into the barn and already heard yelling from the arena. With a sigh, he passed the crossties and tossed his bag on the floor, eager to investigate what Jimin and Taehyung were quarreling about this time.

“Rustle with that fucking wrapper one more time-“

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head. Of course.

He walked over to the gate of the arena, peeking inside, but what he saw made him step right into the arena and pause for a second.

Taehyung, in all his glory, was sitting on Derby – the horse he swore he would not ride today. He looked strangely big on such a small horse, his legs below the girth as opposed to when they reached halfway down Million’s side. With ears perked up and nostrils blown, it was evident that Derby was loaded like a machine gun, which, per usual, didn’t faze Taehyung in the slightest, as he held the reins loosely in his left hand while he gesticulated towards Jimin with the right.

Jimin, standing right next to him, had a profoundly displeased look on his face and a Twix bar in his hand, prompting Jungkook to realize that this was probably the wrapper Taehyung mentioned.

“This is my first meal in eleven hours, and would you like to know whose fault is that?” Jimin tilted his head to the side and took an especially deliberate bite, making sure to rustle the wrapper on purpose.

“Just throw the fucking wrapper away!” Taehyung pleaded, his eyebrows scrunched in a desperate expression.

“Just throw the horse away,” Jimin muttered, “I don’t need to be a Grand Prix bullshit whatever to see that this is a lost cause. No horse gets spooked at a Twix wrapper.”

“Throw yourself away,” Taehyung replied with a shake of his head. “And the next time Thalia is left unattended, we’ll test that theory. Hope you have enough money in your piggy bank, vets cost a lot these days.”

Jimin finally proceeded to pop the remainder of the bar into his mouth and scrunched up the paper between his hands, once again effectively rustling it. Derby didn’t seem especially fixated on the wrapper, but he was alert.

“So do funeral services,” Jimin said, unbothered, popping the tip of his finger in his mouth to lick the chocolate off, “you’re the one that’s going to be in the way when the -what is the word? - tank, spooks.”

Jungkook let out a mash between a gasp and a snort when Taehyung, with no joke, took his shoe off and threw it at Jimin, completely disregarding the fact that this might actually spook Derby way more. Jimin haphazardly dodged the shoe, doubling over with laughter.

“The fuck is going on here?” Jungkook decided to finally interject. The gate opened when he pressed into it, accompanied by an unrealistically loud creaking noise, which, quite predictably, sent Derby dashing for at least ten meters before Taehyung stopped him. Wearing only one shoe, too. Naturally, not even this managed to throw Taehyung off, though when he turned around, he had a frown on his face.

“Jeon!” he roared, finally shortening the reins and grabbing them in both hands. “The fuck do we do when we enter an arena?”

“Whistle,” Jungkook answered sheepishly, just now remembering that he didn’t announce his arrival in any way. That could spook a regular horse, let alone a young, freshly imported Arab. He wondered how much this continuous dumbness of his is going to affect him when he gets on Million. He was terrified to even imagine how a horse like that would react to his common mistakes.

“Though I think it doesn’t fucking matter, he’s still shitting it at everything that moves,” Taehyung muttered, presumably to himself, and shortened the reins some more. Then, he turned to Jimin and walked over.

“Didn’t you say you weren’t going to ride him?” Jimin grimaced and waved his hand in the air when Derby’s nostrils came too close to him, sending a whiff of hot, wet air in his direction. After all, Derby looked quite spiked up since the moment Jungkook came, and he just now noticed the patches of dark grey fur under the girth, on his neck and around the straps of the bridle. Jungkook frowned lightly. Taehyung had probably ridden him already.

“Didn’t you say that about your trainer last year?”

“You haven’t had something broken in a long time, huh?”

“So small and so aggressive. You should get a pony, y’all would get along.”

“Maybe I will. I’ll still do better than devil’s nutsack over here.”

“Not creative, not funny, not insulting,” Taehyung responded and reached for his discarded shoe, which was very reluctantly being handed to him. Jimin, before he loosened his grip on the shoe, whacked Taehyung’s shoulder with it. Again, Derby spooked.

With the shoe remaining in the sand after Jimin dropped it, Taehyung rolled his eyes, an expression that Jungkook managed to catch between his own snorts and giggles, and with his hands firm on the reins and heels deep in the stirrups, he transformed Derby’s impromptu rodeo show into a fairly sedate and collected canter. With a bit of fuss, of course, Derby’s ability to push his hips under himself wasn’t too spectacular, but still.

Taehyung, with his mouth now stretched into a wide grin, cackled.

“This is literally the worst fucking canter I’ve ever had the honor of sitting,” Taehyung spat, but bared his teeth in a smile nevertheless. He rose up into two-point, elbows pulled to his body, and started gently playing with the reins, touching ever so lightly to get Derby’s head to relax and neck to bend. “It feels like sliding down a pile of rocks on a wooden plank.”

Derby tossed his head up, resulting in the reins looping, and in that second, he missed a beat in the canter, dropped his shoulder to the inside, and abruptly transitioned into an unpleasantly fast trot. Taehyung growled. “Or on another rock. Rock with three legs.  Jesus fucking Christ, hollow that back one more time-“

Jungkook curiously walked over to where Taehyung began to circle, attempting to get some sort of a bend. He tentatively swiped his outside leg a little further back, tickling with his heel just some behind the girth, and hummed in triumph when Derby transitioned into canter again.

“Has he even been started under saddle?” Jungkook asked jokingly and crossed his arms on his chest.

“That’s a good fucking question,” Taehyung grumbled with a lot of emphasis on the swear word, even more than usual. He gave it one more small attempt – the little play with the reins, the prominent inside leg, shoulder out, hips in, and Jungkook would’ve deemed it satisfactory when Derby’s gait came back to an almost regular one. Not Taehyung.

“God, the next time I see Hoseok, I’ll tie him to the horse’s ass and come out with a lunging whip,” Taehyung huffed. “He’s going to be a good horse, really, but I ain’t got the fucking time right now. I really wish I did.”

With a groan, he came down to a walk, and tossed the reins on Derby’s neck. When he let go of them with both hands, Jimin giggled in the distance.

“Shit, where did I put that wrapper-“

Jungkook’s lips tugged into a small smile at that, and decided to join in.

“I have a plastic bag in my pocket, hold on,” Jungkook teased, and his chest immediately shook with a fit of laughter when Taehyung’s expression changed from pissed to betrayed.

“Yeah, you try that,” Taehyung nodded with raised eyebrows, “I’m never gonna eat your ass again.”

Jungkook sighed contentedly. “You’ve made this threat multiple times before and never stayed on it.  We both know that it’s you who would suffer from that.”

“Suck my dick,” Taehyung threw back, amusingly at a loss of words. He sighed tiredly and swung his leg over Derby’s back, sliding from the saddle. He frowned when he realized his right foot was still shoeless, and proceeded to walk over to where it was discarded in the sand, not paying much mind to walking around in a sock.

“God, I would,” Jungkook exclaimed dreamily. Jimin threw him a look.

Taehyung seemed to either not notice or pointedly ignore Jungkook’s note, and made his way back to them. He jerked his head to the side a few times, cracking his neck.

“Fuck, if I’m not dead by Friday, I’ll suck someone’s dick. Can’t believe my vertebrae aren’t scattered around my fucking body yet,” he groaned, reaching for his neck and started rubbing his fingers on the back of it in circular motions. Jungkook suddenly remembered his injury.

“You should take it easy,” Jimin pointed out, caring at once. Taehyung let out a wheezy laugh that meant all but amusement. More like desperation.

“Jimin, Jimin, Jimin,” Taehyung exhaled, wincing when he pressed a spot on his neck, and he looked somewhere in the distance. For a second, it looked like he’s going to let out a deep and heartfelt complaint about how much work he has, and how he wishes he could lay off, but instead, he locked his eyes with Jimin’s and with a straight face announced: “I can’t, you fucking dumbass.”

“Unbelievable,” Jimin flailed his arms, and shook his head at Jungkook, “for once I try to be nice to this motherfucker and look what I get.”

“Then try to be nice with less stupid solutions,” Taehyung suggested with a wink. Jimin promptly punched him in the shoulder.

“Then, don’t take it…so hard?” Jungkook tried with a touch of empathy.

“God, shut up or I’ll take you hard,” Taehyung said without missing a beat, causing Jungkook to blink. With a dry gulp, Jungkook froze for a second and locked his eyes on Taehyung, who was sedately pulling the stirrups up, as if he didn’t even say it. It came out…quickly. Automatically. Like Taehyung knew exactly what he wanted to say. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Anyway, what are y’all up to?” Jimin decided to swing onto a different topic, which Jungkook was, honestly, thankful for. Taehyung tutted.

“Riding Million. I’ll give this fucker right here a lesson on him, too,” he said with a jerk of his head towards Jungkook.

Jimin raised his eyebrows. “You’re gonna put him on Million?”

Taehyung shrugged. “Yes. And?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Jimin raised his hands in defense, “I’m just wondering which one of them you want to die first.”

Jungkook whipped his head to Taehyung, his eyes wide in disbelief. “Pardon me?”

“Jimin thinks he’s being funny again,” Taehyung shook his head and upon moving closer to Jungkook, smacked his ass. “You’re gonna be okay.”

A gentle shiver went down Jungkook’s body as he winced from the feeling of Taehyung’s hand landing on his ass so briefly. This was getting absolutely fucking tiring, the physiological reactions his body couldn’t let go of when it came to Taehyung. Of course, it was Taehyung who was being a fucking tease with the smacks and remarks, but fuck, Jungkook wished he knew how to control himself.

“He sure is,” Jimin nodded. “Million though? Not so much.”

“Hey!” Taehyung dragged. “Stop talking shit about my student. Only I can do that.”

Jungkook felt some sort of contentment at Taehyung’s words. Yeah, he was fine when Taehyung talked shit about him. After all, that’s how the fuckery between the three of them began - he couldn’t stand that Jimin had even the slightest of remarks on his riding.

“Anyway,” Taehyung said as he turned to walk away, giving Jungkook a fleet scan, “I’ll go get my horse.”

“Tack him up all nice, that’s gonna be his ghost outfit forever,” Jimin couldn’t help himself.

“Too bad you’re dressed like a hobo, because this will be your ghost outfit too after I fucking kill you.”

“My boots cost more than your rent.”

“Yet they’re still fucking ugly.”

Giving up a verbal response, Jimin reached for a lunging whip, presumably to attack Taehyung with it, but one gesture of Taehyung’s hand towards Derby standing next to him, and Jimin abandoned his idea. Taehyung gingerly grabbed Derby by the reins and set course out of the arena.

“You,” Taehyung said as he turned around and walked backwards, jabbing a finger in Jungkook’s direction, “stay here. And you,” his eyes redirected to Jimin, “do whatever the fuck you want. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

Jungkook remained turned to the side, his eyes lingering where Taehyung left the arena.

“Good luck,” Jimin’s voice sounded from behind Jungkook, tearing him back to reality.

“I’ll fucking need it,” Jungkook exhaled, once again shivering with the oh so familiar anxiety he knew so well from his earlier lessons with Taehyung. He almost thought he got used to it, that he finally started seeing through Taehyung’s methods and categorizing them as nothing but his personality that never meant any harm, but as it would seem, it slipped back. He wasn’t sure why or how, perhaps because of the drift Taehyung’s business caused, but he didn’t like it.

With an encouraging pat on the shoulder, Jimin walked past him. He had a sway in his step, a light, worriless gait. Jungkook wished he could get some of that.

“I can’t believe he’s letting you ride Million,” Jimin scoffed on his way out, his back turned to Jungkook, “I’ve known that fucker for seven years and not once he let me get on any of his horses.”

Jungkook started mindlessly shuffling around, tracing patterns in the sand with his shoe and letting his mind become the aggravating, tiresome whirlwind that it’s been for the past few weeks. He recognized that it was not that bad, it was not unbearable either. He still got to hang around Taehyung, still got to enjoy the dynamic of his lessons, still got to be told off for sitting like a solidified ballsack in the saddle. Taehyung didn’t change and Taehyung wasn’t going to, Jungkook knew that. The situation was not half as unpleasant as Jungkook was making it out to be, and the worst thing was that he acknowledged it.

 Taehyung got back in what was certainly more than ten minutes, and Jungkook had a good idea why -  Million was tacked to perfection. Taehyung’s stunning French jumping saddle wonderfully complemented Million’s shiny, light bay coat, accompanied by a breastplate and belly guard girth. Jungkook had to snort at Taehyung’s expensive ass when he noticed that Million was equipped with a brand new Micklem bridle, the nose band padded with sheepskin. Atop of it all, Taehyung changed his previous attire as well. Instead of the worn-out grey breeches and black Vans that he’s been throwing around before, he was wearing those god forsaken cream breeches  that absolutely wonderfully cupped his ass, his Italian boots and – Jesus fucking Christ – Seokjin’s spurs. Jungkook would recognize those anywhere. Seriously, why hasn’t Taehyung bought his own spurs yet?

“Get your ass up,” Taehyung ordered as he leaped onto Million’s back from the mounting block, “set me a triple and a wall. Get those pretty legs moving.”

While he was warming up, Taehyung flailed his arms around, directing Jungkook at what height to build the jumps. As he placed one of the blocks with a huff, Jungkook’s mind got stuck at how fucking tall the wall was, and he couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that a horse can actually jump this and not stop in front of it. And that a rider can go with it.

After fifteen minutes of Taehyung yelling from the other side of the arena and zooming past Jungkook while telling him he set this and that wrong, Taehyung finally got to the practice.

Aside of a knocked block here and there, there were very little issues, or at least none that Jungkook could see, and so by the end of it, Jungkook sat back into the chair and watched Taehyung trot out.

After Taehyung stopped, Jungkook started kicking the tips of his shoes into the sand in relaxed swings, looking down at the sand flying around.

He was torn out from his peaceful little moment when four hooved legs with white markings slid into his field of vision. All of the previous relief and comfort was gone in a second, and a rigor came to his body. He looked up at Taehyung looking absolutely divine in the saddle.

“Get the fuck up,” Taehyung said, grinning, as he looked down at Jungkook, and was already kicking his stirrups out, “you have a horse to ride.”

_______________________________

“Put those fine ass legs to use and get some fucking impulsion!”

“I know it’s hard with an ass that thick, but please tuck it under yourself.”

“That was really good, I wish it wasn’t just luck!”

“You’re lucky that’s a GP horse, if this was Helena, I’d be driving you to the ER right now.”

“Too slow, too slow, faster, faster, faster! And leg, harder, harder- God, I sound like you- “

“His hind has more power than your fucking car, GET HIM MOVING!”

“Listen, this is easy with him, so if you don’t get this right I’m never letting you suck my dick. And that’s gonna hurt me too, so please, get it right.”

It was fine. All was fine. Nothing out of the usual. A few common mistakes, the usual repertoire of Taehyung’s phrases, a horse that Jungkook had no fucking clue how to control at first. Besides that, all was fine.

Well, all but Taehyung’s continuous and profoundly distracting mumbles, zoning out and behavior so unusual to him, that Jungkook was convinced that half of his fuckups were Taehyung’s fault.

Taehyung was the same as always, loud, all over the place, his confidence and dynamic amplified by the fact that Jungkook was sitting on his horse.

The only difference were the mutters. The remarks. Not the innuendoes laced into his explaining and training methods, no, those were old news. It was the quiet gasps. The stutters that happened here and there. Jungkook wasn’t sure what was more confusing – Million or Taehyung.

Jungkook cantered past the center, for once thinking his equitation wasn’t half terrible. Million’s gaits were drastically different from Helena’s – they were firm, flowy, stable. Bigger, that was for sure, but oh-so-comfortable. And Jungkook, surprisingly enough, began to get the hang of making them even better by getting Million’s legs to work properly. Jungkook was really doing fine, until upon a small jerk of Million’s head as he tried to soften the bit pressure that Jungkook was overusing ( a bad habit from Helena), he got pulled up a little, which resulted in him rising a little higher from the saddle than he should be. Taehyung, naturally, didn’t fail to notice.

“Sit that fine ass down, I don’t have to see it,” Taehyung called out, but as Jungkook was in what he thought was a safe distance, he looked down, eyebrows knitted together, and mumbled: “I’m having a hard time as it is.”

Jungkook, of course, didn’t react to this. He didn’t react to anything Taehyung was saying, he just complied, but something was not fitting. Something was throwing Jungkook off, and it was more than a hunch that Taehyung was being flirty again. In a different way, but there it was again, the way he had to add a small mumble after everything that he thought Jungkook didn’t hear.

It was confusing, frustrating, and maybe a little empowering. Because the last time, remarks like this lead to Jungkook getting fucked six ways to Sunday.

As Jungkook, upon Taehyung’s request, sat down, he felt the tension in the reins dissipate and the canter felt softer yet again. Mindlessly, he relaxed his hips into the motion. It was out of Jungkook’s habit to sit a canter so big and fluid, so in an attempt to sink into it better, he leaned back into the saddle and tried to sit the rocky movement as best as he could.

Apparently, not good enough.

“Stop that dick riding motion, God – “ Taehyung lamented, clapping his hands together.  “Trust me, I’d like to see you do that too, but now you’re in a saddle, so quit it. Don’t overdo it, just relax and add weight.”

Jungkook gulped drily, senses tingling at Taehyung’s words, but went with it nevertheless. He stopped the forced motion altogether and let himself be carried. Momentarily, he remembered to keep his hips tucked in, and Million’s instant response to that was unreal. With no fuss and no arguing, his back rounded, neck bent, hips not once untucking, hind powering forward.

“Fuck yeah! That’s an engaged seat there,” Taehyung hollered appraisingly, and jabbed a finger in Jungkook’s direction. “That’s it, you got it. Feel how he’s softening into the contact? That’s because he’s maintaining the hindleg energy, you’re not losing it with every stride, so he doesn’t have to push into or break the contact. Fuck yeah.”

Jungkook grinned happily, and after a dismissing wave from Taehyung, he came down to a walk. Million’s walk felt like an armchair, it was ridiculous how different from Helena his gaits were. He was also bigger and sturdier than Helena, so much that Jungkook’s heels were halfway down his sides. He liked it. He liked a larger, more solid horse. Even if the only reason for that was that Million was practically all ready for him. If he had to get on a horse of Million’s size and Helena’s temper, he wasn’t so sure he’d be too jolly about it.

“That was nice,” Taehyung noted, albeit a little absentmindedly, his eyes fixed on Jungkook, who was hypnotizing the pommel of his saddle in an attempt to avoid Taehyung’s gaze.

It was annoying, the way he knew exactly what was going on. He knew that Taehyung slipped back into the same way of teaching he had right when Jungkook started, because in retrospect, Jungkook recognized it as identical. And he knew the reason for it too, he knew it all too well, but precisely as he was in the beginning, he was too tongue-tied to do shit about it. So he bottled it up and got a better hold of the reins, anticipating orders.

Admittedly, riding difficult horses or having to work harder had a silver lining – he couldn’t think about anything else. All his mind was fixed on was what’s his next leg movement going to be, what’s his hand going to do, how to keep his shoulders just right to not let the horse surge forward or block him. But, of course, it always slapped him right back in the face when he was taking a break, like now, so he started getting jittery to receive more orders.

“Um, show me a walk to canter transition and a few circles here, and we’ll call it a day,” Taehyung hummed and encouragingly jerked his head up, goading Jungkook on.

Jungkook instantly gathered it all in his brain, and it took way less than he thought it would – shorter reins, power walk, shoulders back, inside flex, heavy seat, outside leg, relaxed hips – and it happened. So smoothly and quickly, not a single piece of hesitation, not a single rein-looping moment or a step of trot squeezed in.

“God, that was- yeah, that was really good,” Taehyung got out, eyes drifting somewhere along Jungkook, “that was very nice. Didn’t expect that, actually. Circle and try to two-point to get his back up more, just to fuck around.”

Jungkook nodded to himself and got to it. He feathered a touch on the inside rein and rose up, his weight shifting into his heels and knees. Shoulders back, he remembered, and in a sense of routine, he made sure to keep his joints flexible and able to cradle his body with the motion without bending him too much.

To his left, in the middle of the circle, Jungkook heard Taehyung slip a barely noticeable ‘fuck’, and he knew he wasn’t supposed to hear it, so he acted like he didn’t, but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t make his pulse jolt a little.

“Shit, I mean- yeah, good, but hold your knees and close your hips a little more, you can’t have all of your weight in the, uh, the stirrups,” Taehyung mumbled with a flail of his arm, one that he immediately afterwards brought to his forehead to wipe it. Jungkook rose an eyebrow but carried on as Taehyung told him to. It was quite odd, because he felt in such little control in the two point, as Million could essentially carry himself with a lot more freedom, but all he did was carry his head a lot lower and back rounder.

“Okay, try a light seat,” Jungkook heard, and gently lowered himself into a light seat, surprised at how different Million’s gait felt now. “Two-point puts him on a forehand and makes it difficult for him to make a tighter circle. So, uh, sit light and make the circle smaller.”

Taehyung licked his lips upon finishing his sentence and sent a nod towards Jungkook. He had his hands in his pockets, and it made Jungkook pause just for a millisecond – yet another gesture he’s never really noticed on Taehyung, one that seemed as if he was trying to calm himself down.

Jungkook decided to slip back into the pleasant zone of thinking about nothing but his actions. A better seat, tucked in hips. He tentatively tickled Million with the outside leg, effectively pushing him inside. Also effectively pushing his shoulder out, of course.

“Hey, the fuck, ” Taehyung, of course, came through, “where’d you leave the outside rein? His shoulder ate dirt just now, keep the reins flexed.”

A small smirk and a scandalised shake of his head escaped Jungkook when he realized that Taehyung only truly tuned in when something was wrong. Every time Jungkook fucked up, Taehyung came right up with a reminder.

Wordlessly, Jungkook flexed the outside rein as told, successfully getting Million to make the circle smaller slowly and gradually without falling in.

“That’s fucking better,” Taehyung mumbled, and with a corner of his eye, Jungkook noticed he pulled out his phone, his eyes momentarily flicking to the screen.

“Um, aight, now give me a full seat, a nice transition, and we’re, uh, we’re done,” Taehyung said without looking at Jungkook, the avoidance strangely evident but a little confusing.

Jungkook sank bank into a full seat, recalling the exact same thing he’s been doing before, and opened his hips into the motion. With leg right where he left it and cemented to the side, all he did was pull his elbows in and chest out, and Million’s gait returned to the ridiculously lofty canter, ironically effortless as this was the point where Million was trying his hardest. Jungkook glanced down for a second, awestruck at Million’s neck and the muscles tensing on his shoulders, and for a second, he couldn’t believe it was his doing.

“Walk,” Taehyung piped, eyes now fixated on Jungkook, opposing to a few seconds ago. Jungkook made the transition, as smooth as the previous, upward one, and with a relieved sigh tossed the reins on Million’s neck and patted it. For a moment, he leaned back and kicked his stirrups out, just relishing in how wonderfully deep he was in the saddle, how strangely secure and comfortable it felt despite being a jumping one, and just let himself be carried by the gliding of Million’s walk.

“Uh, hop off, I’ll walk him out,” Taehyung gestured towards Million, “I’m gonna put ice wraps on him anyway.”

Jungkook nodded contentedly, and deciding to try it just to fuck around, he let go of the reins and leaned back to see if Million would stop just by his seat. He, obviously, did.

Smiling, Jungkook patted Million’s neck once again, surprisingly happy with himself and the results, and also with the fact that he now better understood how a horse’s body is supposed to respond and work when properly engaged. He kicked his leg over Million’s back, landed in the sand, and turned around.

And in that moment, Taehyung’s lips were on his.

Hungry, violent, demanding, impatient.

In that second, his heart rate went up and blood went down, eyes flying open and body freezing in momentary shock but never in resistance, and when he felt Taehyung grab a proper handful of his ass, he was gone.

Why now? How did Taehyung break so easy? Why now, why now? There was an utter fucking whirlwind of thoughts and feelings inside Jungkook, body pulsating with want as he pressed himself closer to Taehyung, a gentle moan caught in the back of his throat.

Unsurprisingly, Jungkook felt his cock throb into his pants when Taehyung moved his other hand to his ass and grab so violently and so dominantly, with a sense of ownership that got Jungkook’s knees buckling.

Mind out of the window, Jungkook kissed him back, his hand immediately finding its way into Taehyung’s hair to tug at it in a gesture of urgency, and this time, a whelp unsurprisingly escaped him when Taehyung bit at his lower lip and pressed his tongue into Jungkook’s. The taste and the familiarity of it were numbing, and he would’ve lost himself to it if Taehyung didn’t pull away with a loud smack.

“God, you’re so fucking hot-“ was the only pant Taehyung managed before his lips were on Jungkook’s neck, sucking with so much fervor and need that a shaky gasp left Jungkook’s lips, his pulse jumping at the thought that Taehyung was so, so much better at it than Jimin.

“Fuck, what- ah-“ Jungkook stuttered out, interrupted when Taehyung strengthened the bruising hold on Jungkook’s ass, kneading and squeezing, pressing him closer until they were up against each other, and Jungkook desperately rutted his hips into Taehyung’s.

He was fucked, right fucked, and frustrated, because Taehyung offered no explanation, but damn it if he wasn’t feeling accomplished. He completely forgot about a whole ass horse standing right next to them, too.

“Taehyung-“ Jungkook attempted again, but was stopped by yet another kiss, Taehyung’s tongue in his mouth instantly, and Jungkook almost blacked the fuck out when he head Taehyung moan. In that low, delicious voice, a sound that was not too common from Taehyung, because he wasn’t the vocal one here. If he was, it was with his cock up Jungkook’s ass, not at kissing, and shit, Jungkook was losing it.

“Taehyung, fuck me,” Jungkook finally got out when Taehyung pulled away for air, clawing at his nape and searching for any sort of friction, grinding his hips into Taehyung’s, so pathetically hard upon a few seconds of kissing that he would almost roll his eyes at himself. But not now, fuck, not now.

“God, I wish- I will,” Taehyung whispered right into Jungkook’s ear, followed by another low grunt that sent nearly a painful twitch into Jungkook’s cock, “just- not yet-“

“Why,” Jungkook pleaded, his hand sliding down to Taehyung’s waist, and he couldn’t decide what to grab first, what to hold before Taehyung pulls away and leaves him a horny, wheezing mess without any satisfaction yet again, “please, it’ll be quick, please-“

“Be patient, Jeon, fuck – you’re hard,” Taehyung pointed out with a sly, raspy giggle, one that made Jungkook want to both punch him in the face and suck his cock into the next dimension.

“Yeah, no shit,” he bit back, frowning, and with a bit of brattiness, he pressed his hips forward harder, to make sure Taehyung would feel it better, feel how fucking hard he was, wet in his underwear and so, so damn needy, “fuck me, please-“

“God, these shitty hickeys are pissing me off,” Taehyung changed the topic suddenly, and moved his hand up to close it around Jungkook’s throat. He did it with no force, but the gesture alone, the gesture of absolute control, was enough to tear a groan from Jungkook’s throat. He grimaced lightly when he felt a drop of precum drip into his underwear, and he frowned at how fucking easy and edged he truly must have been.

“Then make them fucking better,” Jungkook groaned, his voice almost tearful with absolute and complete desperation, “make them fucking better-“

“I will,” Taehyung repeated with a strained voice, breathy and equally affected, “just not yet- just hold on-“

“Why, fucking why?” Jungkook finally got out all at once, the sense of accomplishment he got when he thought something was going to happen now completely gone. Fuck, he could feel Taehyung’s cock through the pants, pressing right into his own, as fuck him if he wasn’t hard, so what was the problem?

“After the show, I promise- I promise, fuck,” Taehyung bit his lip and squeezed Jungkook’s ass one more time, this time so strongly that Jungkook, tragically enough, recognized the touch as a departing one. Jungkook let out one more frustrated grunt, his lips blindly following Taehyung’s, but then it was all gone, the hands, the lips, the warmth.

“Taehyung, what the fuck?”

Looking almost apologetic, Taehyung gently took the reins from Jungkook’s right hand in which they have been the entire time, sitting in a loose grip and forgotten.

“Just hold on,” Taehyung said, licking his lips. Jungkook mimicked the gesture, mouth salivating at the blood-red hue of Taehyung’s lips, swollen from the aggressive kissing.

“I fucking hate you,” Jungkook spat, standing helpless as Taehyung started walking away.

“You know you don’t,” Taehyung sighed, and Jungkook could hear the smirk in his voice.

For a second, Jungkook considered running after Taehyung and making him break, making him give in, but he never did, of course. Though his mind was far from clear, considering all of his damn blood was in his dick, he still managed to see through this and remember what he told himself. To not be selfish. To not put his needs before Taehyung’s goals, and with a new thing added to the checklist, to wait. To be patient.

Taehyung still wanted him, Taehyung was going to get back to him. When? That was a good fucking question, and Jungkook was half-convinced he was going to blow up by then. But he was. And that was what sated him for now.

So he remained there, standing, red in the face and wheezy, and it occurred to him that fuck, Taehyung needs to stop leaving him hard and flustered in the arena.

__________________________________

The day of the show came faster than one could notice – wrapped in two more days of constant preparation, riding, paperwork, Taehyung cursing at anything and everything that moved, (or didn’t; he spent five minutes yelling at a broken saddle stand), and finally, trailering.

Jungkook had done shows before, and he was no stranger to the pre-show shenanigans, but the looming awareness that this was a bit more serious kept him a touch too jittery.

They trailered out on Thursday, two days well before the show, though Taehyung made sure to let everyone know that he deemed that too late.

“When we arrive,” he mumbled as he was pacing around the barn while Million was getting his shoes done on Wednesday, “I’ll be good to hop the fuck on and do my round. That’s how fucking late we’re gonna be.”

Of course, the time management could be better, but wasn’t the worst, either. They arrived to Daemyung Vivaldi Park on Thursday evening, just in time for Million to be lunged, hacked and stalled. Upon arrival, another person joined them – Taehyung introduced him as Namjoon, allegedly a friend of his and a trainer. Jungkook didn’t mean to doubt anyone, but his mind wouldn’t wrap around the fact that someone could actually train Taehyung. Give orders to Taehyung. Especially someone looking like Namjoon, with a soft and kind face, dimples digging into his cheeks. He had a very gentle exterior, though Jungkook was having a hard time not staring at the wonderful set of legs that came with his body.

Taehyung, by the time everything was set, seemed to have calmed down a bit, and seemed more content with the time management, too. Jungkook did all he could to help, and more than once he paused to realize that he only got to be here because of Taehyung. He wasn’t sure in what world he’d be able to stand in the middle of a warmup ring with Grand Prix level riders around him.

It was late night on Thursday when Taehyung finally relaxed and admitted that stressing right now isn’t going to help anyone. He was, after all, well acquainted with what shows like these brought, and he decided to crown the day with a bottle of wine in the hotel room.

“Nice to finally see you chill the fuck out,” Jimin noted as he fiddled with his glass, swirling the wine in it. The mood set in the room closely resembled the one in the dressage club room, except without all the horniness. They were all too fucking tired for that at this point. Jungkook, shockingly, too. He imagined that it was the day spent travelling, carrying all the shit around once they arrived, and finally, the general strain that running around before a show caused. So for now, he decided to enjoy that he did not feel the need to hop on Taehyung’s dick and just wished to chill with some good ass red wine.

They were splayed on the couch, with Jimin sitting facing them on the floor, a small coffee table the only thing between them. Two bottles of wine stood on the table, one of them approaching the end.

“I’m chill all my life,” Taehyung panned and downed his glass, smacking his lips afterwards, “don’t say shit you know is false.”

Jimin giggled, his cheeks dusted with a flush from the wine, and followed suit. He, of course, immediately refilled his glass after that. Not the normal wine pouring kind of refilled, but to the brim refilled, and immediately surged forward to slurp the side of it and prevent spilling.

“Who are you up against tomorrow?” Jungkook spoke into the silence. He wasn’t sure he’d know anyone, rather he was interested in Taehyung’s view on the competition.

 Taehyung hummed, eyebrow raised. “No one relevant,” he replied with a wink and snatched Jimin’s glass from him, earning a flail of arms and a whine from Jimin.

“Moretti. Well, not her. Her horse. I bet that fucker was created in a secret lab and programmed like a robot,” Taehyung scoffed, but instantly replaced the sound with a snort, “but fortunately for us, her trainer hates her.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. “Does he?”

“I don’t fucking know,” Taehyung barked with laughter, “ but if someone trains you that way for GP, do they like you?”

“What way?” Jimin interjected, piping from the spot on the carpet where he rolled over on his stomach and propped his chin on his hands.

“The shit she does with her hands, oh my god,” Taehyung exclaimed, and went as far as to set the glass on the table to claw on his face, “if her horse wasn’t fucking genetically modified, she’d be in a wheelchair by now. It's like she's trying to take flight.”

“How do you know he hates her? Maybe he’s just dumb. Or she’s dumb,” Jungkook giggled, earning another bark of laughter from Taehyung.

“Jeon,” Taehyung shook his head with a grin, and reached forward to refill his glass, “if your trainer doesn’t make you ride better, they don’t like you. Like, that’s a person you’re paying to make you better. If they don’t, they probably fucking hate you.”

“What if it’s a combination?” Jimin’s eyes widened, and his corners were already twitching in suppressed smile, “like, she’s dumb so she doesn’t know her trainer sucks balls and is fine with it.”

Taehyung frowned and squinted for a while, as if evaluating Jimin’s input, then decided to nod. “Or that,” Taehyung approved.

“Maybe they’re fucking,” Jungkook offered.

“Maybe that’s how she pays him,” Jimin gasped, theatrically resting his hand on his forehead.

“Okay, no, really,” Jungkook cleared his throat and tried to maintain a serious face, “who are you against? Besides...this bitch.”

Taehyung’s mouth attempted to pull into a smile again, but with a lick of his lips, he got the control of his mimics back. “As I said, no one relevant. The only bitch I’m happy to see here is Lizzy. I mean, she’s in the Championships tomorrow, so I’m not against her. But yeah.”

“Who the fuck is Lizzy?” Jungkook tilted his head.

“British champion. She never ends up on the podium, and always deserves it. She’s the best fucking rider around and is never treated as such,” Taehyung sighed, eyebrows knitted together. Jungkook nodded understandingly, for he knew exactly what Taehyung meant. The shows were often corrupt and rarely fair, and if there was bias against someone, said person had a rough time being successful.

“Are you…close with her?” Jungkook inquired, chewing on his lips. There was no ill will in his question, just curiosity, really, but Taehyung always saw right through him.

“No, Jeon, I didn’t fuck her,” he replied with a low chuckle and with no hesitation. “Why do you think I banged every person I ever speak of?”

“Because you did?” Jimin answered on his behalf, and he earned a pillow in the face.

“And who the fuck asked you?”

“Your mom.”

“She would’ve asked me while I was fucking her ass.”

“Jesus, what are you, nine?”

“Yeah, inches.”

Yet again, Jungkook was giggling into his hand, because what the wine didn’t finish, the two of them did, spitting their delightfully familiar snips at each other. He leaned back once he calmed down, savoring the pleasant atmosphere of the moment. For now, there was nothing bothering him. Not his sexual frustration, not his own riding, not how Taehyung’s going to do. For now, he was just floating around and absorbing the nice presence of people he liked spending time with and a few glasses of wine warming him up. It was well past midnight, and he felt the well-known, pleasant feeling of exhaustion set down on him.

“Look at him, fucker’s falling asleep,” Jimin whispered, followed by a high pitched giggle. Jungkook felt his lips involuntarily stretch into a smile.

“Am not,” he protested and lifted his head, blinking a few times to focus on Jimin.

“Not the worst idea, though,” Taehyung piped in and yawned, not forgetting to yell as loud as he could while doing so. Jungkook grimaced and smacked him on the shoulder, reminding him about the hour. He, naturally, didn’t give a shit.

In a tired haze, they scattered to their rooms, all of them knocked out after the long day. Before leaving, Jimin didn’t forget to remind Taehyung to go to sleep right away and not stay up another two hours watching videos of people falling off horses, because he needed to rest. Of course, he insulted him a few times on top of that, but Jungkook thought it was sweet.

It was around one A.M. that Jungkook finally began to drift off to sleep. Despite being pleasantly numb to everything and sleepy beyond measure, he had trouble falling asleep. There wasn’t much on his mind, considering he wasn’t feeling particularly horny today, so the usual Taehyung-induced issues didn’t bother him. He only had one more day to hold on, too. So he kept tossing and turning, blinking into the darkness and changing positions. He was finally content after half an hour, and was finally beginning to feel the sleep setting down on him.

Maybe it was the change of place, maybe it was the wine. He wasn’t sure. Maybe the excitement about tomorrow. He’ll see. The thoughts all melted into darkness when after five more minutes he finally drifted off to a worriless sleep.

_______________________________

It turned out that the warmup day was the ninth circle of hell.

Jungkook wasn’t sure how in the world were all the riders and horses managing to not get freaked out over one another and over the number of people and horses pacing around.

Championships were running that day, too, ones that Taehyung didn’t attend, because he deemed it as a loss of time and energy ‘and for what.’ He said it was rotten anyway.

The day was, besides Namjoon consistently becoming more and more directory, at times eerily resembling Taehyung, filled with Taehyung’s observations and dropping remarks about every single person they encountered.

“So many fucking Americans again,” Taehyung said bitterly as they walked from the stalls to the arena, aiming to kill some time by watching the second round of the Championships for a bit before Taehyung went to ride. “They always swarm it here and for what? They never do well here. Two years ago in Washington fuckers took it all, it’s like they only do well in their own air.”

As they passed a girl on a dappled grey with an American flag on the saddle pad, shivers ran down Jungkook’s back when he saw the dreadfully long shanks on the bit.

“McCall, a fucking bitch, she fucked one of the judges three years ago,” Taehyung noted as if he was stating the weather, “can’t ride for shit so she uses a Weymouth and thinks it’s going to help her.”

For a moment, Jungkook sheepishly thought of the time he wanted to try a Weymouth in hopes of it doing something to his riding. It wasn’t even that long ago and he already knew that Helena would gladly explain to him why that wouldn’t work. In ways that included him parking face-first into the dirt.

Before they got to the arena, Taehyung checked every other person they encountered or saw somewhere.

“That’s Bernzinger, she’s like twelve, I have no clue what she’s doing here. Maybe because her dad paid for half the shit here.”

“The fuck is Stopper here for? They disqualified him last year because he whipped the horse shitless.”

“Zhang, a whole ten out of ten, last year she broke arm here. Nice to see her back, too bad she’s going to be the last again.”

“See that bitch? That’s Asselin, I’d kill half of this place to own her horse. I think she’s a lesbian.”

As they were walking in front of the tribune, avoiding the people streaming in the opposite direction, they bumped into a tall red-headed girl, wearing a hoodie with a German flag.

“Oh my god, Bettina, hi!” Taehyung called out with a wide smile, and once she returned the greeting and passed them, his grin instantly left and he muttered: “Fucking bitch.”

They finally managed to find a place to sit, Taehyung immediately resting his legs on the seat in front of him, and got to sipping his coffee. From then, it was like a damn theatre began for him and Jimin.

“Did you see that? Holy fuck-“

“Fuck yeah, that was nice-“

"Is that fucking Jiwoo? She sucked my dick in Incheon two years ago!"

"I wonder where he got those breeches."

"Now that was a long spot! Longer than my-"

“Oh shit, he knocked a rail.”

“Yeah, sure, knocked a rail, but did you see that ass?”

Jungkook was trying his best to keep up, but he wasn’t sure whether to concentrate on the rider currently doing their turn or on Jimin and Taehyung straight up leaving the commentators jobless.

“Next is Idia Asselin and Calimera, based in the Marseille Royal Colony Club,” the commentator announced.

“Next is a French lesbian with a good horse,” Taehyung corrected him. Jungkook leaned forward in interest, wanting to see well. After all, his vision to distance wasn’t too great, and didn’t want to miss the good horse’sperformance.

“She had a wonderful round last year, we might see her do even better today, as the course seems like a very fitting one for Calimera.”

“She had a wonderful round last year, she had a slobber stain on her coat!” Jimin interjected and spread his arms wide with a theatrical expression, almost lamenting. Jungkook covered his mouth.

In the end, French lesbian with a good horse ended up getting disqualified after her allegedly good horse refused the same jump four times, leaving Taehyung speechless with his mouth gaping.

“It’s the filler,” Taehyung stated with his finger up in the air, tone of his voice defending, as if it was his horse that got disqualified. “It was definitely the filler, it’s fucking weird anyway, this was by far the only shortcut I’ve ever seen on that horse-“

Jimin and Jungkook threw each other a look and tried not to crack up, but ended up losing it when Taehyung sank to his chair with his arms crossed on his chest, huffy like a little kid.

“Elina Bernzinger and Cordilay for Emerald Enterprises, last year’s silver. Not to call it on her, but there are some passages in the course that could catch her off guard a little bit,” the commentator said, tutting into the mic, as Elina started cantering around the course, waiting for her bell.

“Definitely, the only reason she ended up second last year was that very quiet line,” the female commentator agreed.

Jungkook felt a little out of this world – everything was so professional, so busy, on such a high level that he could barely see all the way up. Taehyung knew everyone and everyone knew Taehyung, and it was a little scary how at home Taehyung felt. Never caught off guard and never slipping, always at his usual behavior. He wondered if Taehyung remained the same when it was him in the ring, when it was his round being announced and when all the judging eyes were on him. Now Jungkook understood what Taehyung meant when he said that there will always be people watching him. Better people. Because there will, there were, and they rarely ever has kind words to say.

 Jungkook was snapped back to reality once he heard the bell, and turned his attention to the girl in the ring. Elina was a small and young-looking woman, her size not matching her tall, white horse. As her name popped up on the screen, Jungkook noticed a Swiss flag next to her name.

She began the course on a decent note – a clean distance to an oxer, nothing too exciting or puzzling. She landed a little bit forward, but thanks to the horse’s hind carrying her through, she sank right back. Of course, the horse had to work for that more than she did, and it was at that moment that they lost impulsion.

“If that horse was on the forehand, she’d be around him like a fucking necklace right now,” Taehyung commented loudly enough to talk over the commentator, who also chose to speak at that moment, presumably on the same matter.

From the oxer to the next vertical, Elina attempted to fire forward. There were eight strides ahead of her, but judging from the extremely short two strides that it took her horse to scramble back from the landing and from the lack of acceleration, Jungkook already knew this wasn’t going to be an eight.

“Now, she would have to truly go and get that eight,” a commentator noted, completed by Taehyung’s ‘but she ain’t gonna.’

Expectedly, with the lack of stride, Elina allowed her horse to get extremely deep, and probably regretted it when the slip-up resulted into a knocked rail.

“This is like the fucking pony club,” Taehyung sighed and palmed on his face. Jungkook wasn’t sure whether to agree. Yeah, sure, she messed up, but that was a certain level of riding here. He managed to mess up his three feet verticals, so he was pretty sure he had zero say on what people rode like in the Championships.

After a cleared vertical and a seven stride (which Taehyung informed was supposed to be a six), Elina approached a combination of two oxers, squeezing in two strides in between.

“That was a seven and a two, but again, she has the scope to get away with it.”

“More like she has the money to get away with it,” Taehyung scoffed and glared at the screen, which was now projecting a slow motion of how Cordilay’s hoof missed the rail by a few centimeters.

Elina finished the round with eight faults, and on the camera, she wasn’t looking too pleased with herself.

“Eight faults total, now, we know that she’s a determined rider, of course, it can work when she gets her moving a little, but truly, the way this course is built really requires a stretch in the stride, a little more dynamics, and she lost some of that today,” the commentator summarized, but was very quick to add: “But as I said, the scope was undeniable, wonderful work with release-“

“Scope is code word for ‘her daddy is going to fuck our faces off if she’s not on the podium’,” Taehyung leaned into Jungkook’s ear, “I feel like I’m watching a fucking horse chick flick and she’s the mean, rich girl at the barn.”

In the next thirty-something minutes, Michael Stopper was disqualified for whipping his horse after it refused a jump (again), Taehyung used every single profanity language holds in one sentence during Indiana McCall’s round with her horrendous bit, Huiyin Zhang set the best time which left Taehyung standing up with his hands on his head, and Kenneth Jackson fell off in an absolutely hilarious fall – got fired over the neck and remained sitting on the top rails of an oxer.

After the fuckery, as Taehyung labeled it, a jet-black horse with a young woman on its back entered the ring, and in that second, Taehyung clapped.

“Oh, that’s Lizzy,” he announced, his face immediately lighting up, and pointed, “look, Jeon, this one is younger than you. Watch and learn.”

Although a little sheepishly, Jungkook nodded, and redirected his gaze to the girl in the ring, now trotting around and considering her options. The horse was no bigger than Helena, but from where he was sitting, Jungkook could feel the steaming motor inside of the animal.

“Next round, Elizabeth Birming and Guns for Godette, based in Manchester Creeks Stables, last year her round didn’t, uh, manage to get her on the podium, but we’ll see if she can make that work today,” the commentator announced, tiptoeing around his words.

“She’s a wonderful rider, really, and I think this course might actually be very well suited for her, we know that Godette knows how to stretch her stride,” the female commentator joined in, agreeing, but sounding a little less fake.

“First true thing this bitch said today,” Taehyung said and frowned, jerking his head upwards, gesturing towards the resonating voice of the commentator. He leaned forward, propping his legs up on the seat in front of him.

Jungkook leaned forward as well, resting his elbows on his knees. The ring of a bell resonated in the arena, and Elizabeth began.

It was evident Taehyung was rooting for the girl with all his might, his fists clenched and eyebrows furrowed in concentration. The bounce of his left leg was making for a steady shaking for the entire row of seats, and Jungkook knew that if this Elizabeth girl doesn’t do well, Taehyung’s mood will let everyone know.

Elizabeth, however, didn’t seem like she was planning on not doing well. Her position was eerily similar to Taehyung’s – her hand carriage, the stability of her leg and the well-balanced upper body. It was the body of a fantastic jumper. A fantastic jumper that ate the 5’5 triple oxer up like it was nothing.

“Fuck yes,” Taehyung muttered for himself and nodded, eyes following Elizabeth in the arena. Eyes, eyes that Taehyung always knew where to keep, where to point, only to make it better for himself. Eyes, that just like that one time when he fell, slipped sometimes.

And when they slipped this time, it was just as detrimental.

Jungkook didn’t notice at first. He was, like everyone else, dropping his jaw over how Elizabeth managed an eight stride to the second jump, and upon finishing the turn effortlessly, also cleared the vertical following. He leaned back to clap, relieved, because so far, everyone has encountered trouble at the turn, and his eyes flicked to Taehyung, just observationally. And that’s when he noticed Taehyung was no longer looking at the ring, he was looking to the left, as if scanning the crowd near the gate of the ring, his fists releasing the hold and body tensing. And in that moment, Taehyung stood up.

“Let’s get the fuck out,” he said lowly, and Jungkook could almost instantly feel the cloud of something hovering over him as Taehyung pawed for his hand and pulled him to stand up.

“Wh-“

“Let’s fucking go,” Taehyung repeated and started goading Jimin on to plough through the people sitting in the row besides them.

“Taehyung, what’s wrong?” Jungkook called out behind him, not getting a response. He noticed Jimin turned around too, equally puzzled, and Jungkook saw him mouth the same question.

“Just fucking go, I’ll explain,” Taehyung grumbled, at a loss of patience, and pushed Jimin a little harder until he finally started walking fast enough.

Jungkook tried to think of all possible scenarios that could get Taehyung to bolt from his seat while his obviously favorite rider was in the ring, but he couldn’t come up with any. Nothing seemed serious enough to not let Taehyung sit a minute longer, because it was evident that Elizabeth wasn’t going to take longer than that.

“Taehyung, what the fuck?” Jimin made the decision to ask yet again, turning his head around, but still walking, and that was the first time Jungkook heard somewhat of an answer.

“Ahn.”

And the single syllable that confused him beyond fucking measure, seemed to work the exact opposite way on Jimin – his face instantly gave it away, features falling apart in something that almost resembled disappointment. Or defeat?

“What-“

Taehyung interrupted him by a tug on the wrist, urging him to keep going. They reached the end of the row and Jungkook finally dared to think that now that their way is clear from the stairs down, an explanation would come.

But all that came was an abrupt halt and Jungkook bumped right into Taehyung’s back. With a complain on his tongue, he was about to bitch again, but was stopped. Stopped by a few words, ones that came out of the mouth of the person that caused Taehyung to freeze.

“Hello there, Taehyung.”

It was a female voice, rather deep, but smooth, and in that second everything fell together like a puzzle. This whole chase, this fucking race, was to get out before someone Taehyung desperately didn’t want to encounter, talks to them.

Jungkook tipped his head to the side, tentative and careful, and stepped from behind Taehyung. His eyes fell on a woman, a stunningly beautiful woman around Taehyung’s age, emitting an aura of supremacy around her. Her eyes, sharp and purposeful, were stabbed right into Taehyung, her face motionless. She stood good six inches below Taehyung, but that took away zero of the sizzling energy she was emitting. Taehyung’s eyebrows furrowed, and Jungkook noticed his jaw clench, while all that was rising from her was sheer and absolute dominance. Like she knew she owned the place, like she knew she was better than everyone else. The problem was, so did Taehyung.

The way he tensed didn’t make him seem any weaker, rather, it looked like he raised a shield against her presence. She didn’t seem fazed either, just intimidating, almost threatening. They looked each other right in the eyes and the charge of the moment could start up a fucking nuclear plant.

It was with that look, that crackling of electricity between them, when Jungkook realized – when two lions meet in the jungle, only one can come out the king.

“It’s nice to see you, Taehyung,” she said in a delightful voice, smooth, but hiding zero of the bite in it.

“It’s nice to see you too, Hyejin,” Taehyung replied, his tone so fucking bitter Jungkook almost snorted at what a terrible job Taehyung was doing at hiding his disdain for her.

“You look good,” Hyejin noted with a smile, one that meant everything but good intention.

“Thank you,” Taehyung said through clenched teeth, the words rolling off his tongue like he was spitting out something unbelievably bitter. The frown on his face gradually became more and more prominent. It was so, so painfully evident how Taehyung didn’t want to be in the presence of this woman, how terribly he disliked her, for reasons Jungkook was yet to find out. Jungkook knew Jimin felt it too, for he stepped a little aside – felt how suffocating the tension was. And oh lord, this was not sexual tension. This was ‘if you don’t get out of my sight this instant, I will rip you apart in my teeth’ tension.

“Oh, well,” Hyejin chuckled, and finally redirected her patronising glare away from Taehyung, now locking it on Jungkook, “just wanted to say hi. Wouldn’t want to bother you. I’m sure you have a lot of work.”

Jungkook gulped under her gaze. He has never, ever felt so chastened by someone so much shorter and smaller than him. Perhaps it was her overall exterior – the white jacket with a name tag and logos of tens of sponsors on it, or her pristine white breeches, or her black hair cut just above her shoulders. Maybe the features of her face, maybe the way she spoke. Jungkook wasn’t entirely sure what it was, but he didn’t need to be in rivalry with this woman to pray to never cross her.

Her eyes, once again, slid back to Taehyung, who shoved his hands in his pockets, yet again a gesture so unusual, but this time done for an entirely different reason.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” she sang, and as she walked past them, she made sure to grant each of them with a nice, juicy, dirty look.

For a second, there was silence. Taehyung’s expression remained unchanged, not a word leaving his mouth, and Jungkook nor Jimin dared to say anything either. They just stood, Jungkook throwing looks at Jimin in hopes that he will bite the bullet and speak first. Finally, it was Taehyung to break the silence.

“I didn’t know she would be here. She wasn’t supposed to be here,” he murmured with his head hanging. It was odd, and scary, Jungkook decided – to see Taehyung this humbled after a few words thrown back and forth. Jungkook had done enough shows and had his push and pulls with rivalry before, so he knew why Hyejin stopped to talk to Taehyung.

He knew there was zero meaning in the words alone, that she, in fact, wasn’t happy to see Taehyung, and that her compliment was not only lukewarm but completely insincere. It wasn’t to chat, wasn’t to say hi, wasn’t to insult him. It was purely to scare and discourage him. She wanted him to see, wanted him to face her,  wanted him to know she was there and was as much of a threat as he looked, wanted him to feel belittled by the way she stared him down despite looking up. And if there was one thing Taehyung wouldn’t stand, it was being put in his place. Jungkook knew that from experience.

“Taehyung,” Jimin spoke finally, his voice surprisingly stern, “what difference does that make?”

“All the fucking difference, Jimin,” Taehyung spat, head snapping to Jimin with fire in his eyes, but thankfully, Jimin was used to this shit by now.

“Stop jumping up at me,” Jimin spat right back, and jabbed his finger into Taehyung’s chest. “So fucking what she’s here? What now, huh?”

Jimin mimicked Taehyung’s frown, and holy shit, Jungkook forgot how dangerous Jimin looked when he was pissed. Under Jimin’s hand, Taehyung stepped back, but never relaxed.

“Guys,” Jungkook piped, aware of how his question might not be placed in the right time, but unable to fight off his curiosity, “who exactly is she?”

Taehyung’s answer was but a scoff and a shake of his head, so it had to be Jimin to answer: “Ahn Hyejin, four times champion. Took the cake for the Puissance four fucking years in a row, and let’s just say she’s a rival.”

“This isn’t about rivalry anymore,” Taehyung scowled with a sour face, eyes growing darker as he looked somewhere in the distance, “ this is actual fucking hatred here, because she knows I’m after her ass, and she knows this is a sport where sabotage is hard. This is not fucking football, because if it was, she’d break my legs and pretend it was an accident. She knows someone can dethrone her and she wants me out of here, and fuck, it pisses her off that she can’t do it unjustly.”

Jungkook took a step back. There was a storm, a hurricane, a whole apocalypse going on behind Taehyung’s eyes, something boiling in his body and ready to burst, and frankly, it was fucking terrifying. Taehyung was terrifying. Call Jungkook biased, but the little slip-up of Taehyung’s confidence when Hyejin stood up right in his face must have been just shock. Because right now, Taehyung seemed like he was ready to chokeslam anyone who breathes next to him.

“Is there a reason for this?” Jungkook asked carefully, considering he was afraid Taehyung would jump him and snap his neck. “Or did you ever do something to her?”

“She’s not a very good sport,” Jimin sighed, “I mean, she’s a good rider, but definitely can’t accept competition.”

“No, no, ” Taehyung snorted and turned to Jungkook, who was left surprised when a grin started stretching on Taehyung’s face, “she just fucking hates me.”

“You’re making this a little personal.”

“She wanted to mix ketamine into Million’s drip two years ago.”

“I think it might be a little personal,” Jimin admitted.

“She just fucking hates me,” Taehyung repeated, increasingly fuming, “and you know why? Because she knows that every year could be her last to get that fucking blue ribbon.”

Sure, Taehyung looked terrifying. And yes, Taehyung looked like was fixing to rip someone’s throat out. And yes, Taehyung jaw was practically shivering by now with how hard he was clenching it, though with somewhat of a wicked grin. But now, it was finally Taehyung. This was what Jungkook expected, this was what the Taehyung that Jungkook knew would do if anyone tried to ground him. And damn, was it satisfying to see.

Taehyung looked up, his face clearing and relaxing, but the fight in his eyes never leaving, and he finally stepped forward and set course out of the arena, steaming with determination.

“And you two can bet your fat asses,” Taehyung announced, and theatrically rolled up his sleeves, “that this year that ribbon won’t be on her bridle.” 

____________________________

So far, the D day had two minuses and one plus. The plus was that Taehyung was in a fantastic mood right from the beginning of the day, giving smiles and hellos, cursing more than often and consistently slapping Jimin and Jungkook’s butts. He had that beam of confidence around him, one that Jungkook knew would make for a success of some kind, because Taehyung in a good mood was an invincible Taehyung. If he decided it would go, it would go.

The minus was that, as an answer to Taehyung’s ‘why the fuck is she here? She was supposed to be on a fucking leave’ last night, came an official announcement that Ahn Hyejin was listed late on an exception and will compete against Taehyung along with Linda Moretti. Despite this, or maybe because of this, Taehyung woke up ready to breathe fire. 

The other minus was that Jungkook woke up so horny that he blacked out when he sat up.

Now, to make this clear – Jungkook was not one to suffer from wet dreams or whatnot, neither he considered morning woods something mood-determining. He would usually let it go down on its own, or, if he was in a rush, fix it with a few quick strokes. It was not a big deal, it was nothing he paid much mind to.

But of course, of fucking course, what kind of fun would that be if he didn’t wake up hard and wet right on the day of the fucking show. Of course. Disappointed, but not surprised.

Naturally, he locked himself in the bathroom right away, thinking about nothing in particular, and got rid of the boner in the shower fairly quickly.

The boner might have left him, the mood never did. And it was absolute hell.

It was absolute hell, because the determined, confident and sassy Taehyung that he was today was the hottest Taehyung. It might have been some fucked up magnetism or just Jungkook being Pavloved by getting banged every time Taehyung was in this kind of a mood, he wasn’t sure. Hell, he didn’t even know when’s the last time he felt like this. This needy, this jumpy, having to leave a few times because he was constantly on the brink of scooting over to Taehyung for some sort of a physical contact.

Blaming it on the long-run sexual frustration, which wasn’t long run at all, he decided to fix it in the bathroom a few more times during the day. Didn’t help, didn’t work, didn’t satiate him enough. It was fucking torture, and he didn’t know how long he’d last before giving in. He didn’t know how long he’d last before giving up on the last bits of his dignity.

And in the end, he ended up lasting shorter than he thought. 

It was just about three hours before Taehyung’s class, leaving him the space to warm up nicely, though, as he’s expressed, he didn’t want to do anything too serious. Namjoon, agreeing with this, said it would be better to keep Million’s energy for the actual deal, and they decided to do smaller jumps in focus on Taehyung’s position. After all, it wasn’t Million’s first time, and all that made the decision for them was how well would Taehyung send him to perform.

Jungkook was huddled beside Jimin on a rusty bench in a small warmup arena, both of them hugging cups of coffee in their palms, and watching Taehyung go about his warmup.

“It pissed him off,” Jimin said out of nowhere, blinking through the steam rising from the coffee, “that Hyejin is here. She broke her collarbone in January, she was supposed to be on a leave.”

Jungkook hummed into his cup as he took a sip, replying after he swallowed: “But it fired him up. Look at him.”

Look at him, resonated in Jungkook’s mind, look at how fucking hot he is. Look at that ass in those snow-white breeches, look at how focused he is. Look at the veins in his arms, look at how well he could fold you in half and fuck your brains out.

“Yeah,” Jimin agreed, his voice instantly tearing Jungkook out of his thoughts, which promptly gave him the chance to mentally slap his wrists away. Stop being fucking thirsty. He shook his head, blinked twice, and redirected his gaze to the dark liquid in his cup again. He felt something in his stomach stir.

“He’s actually trying right now,” Jimin commented, jerking his head in Taehyung’s direction, which automatically got Jungkook to look the pointed way, “because he knows he has competition. He didn’t take Linda, or anyone else, seriously. Fucker knows he’s good.”

Jimin followed his statement with a breathy laugh. Jungkook just nodded dumbly, his sight yet again hung on Taehyung. It was impossible.

Impossible for his mind not to get clouded, for his eyes not to catch on the delicious outlines of Taehyung’s body as the tight, tight clothes hugged him in all the right places. Involuntarily, Jungkook licked his lips, and when Taehyung leaned forward to playfully ruffle Million’s forelock, Jungkook had to shuffle his thighs together.

Fuck, how was he going to wait so long? How long did he have to wait, anyway? He couldn’t possibly expect Taehyung to finish his rounds and hurl to give Jungkook attention, and it was the uncertainty that was worse than anything. It wouldn’t help him any if he knew, but at least he’d have an idea how long he’d had to keep his dick in his pants. He threw his head back and let out a sour giggle. God, he was like a fucking teenager.

“What are you laughing at?” he heard Jimin ask, amused.

“Nothing,” Jungkook sighed, instantly drowning in three gulps of coffee, and redirected his gaze back to Taehyung, though he wasn’t sure it was too good of an idea.

“Are you still on that shit?” Jimin rolled his eyes and elbowed Jungkook in the shoulder, which caused a small spill on the blanket Jungkook had thrown over his knees. After a hiss and curse, and after Jimin stopped giggling, Jungkook tutted and looked straight ahead again.

“What shit?”

“You know what shit,” Jimin said, almost tiredly, and started playing around with the hem of the blanket.

“’M not,” Jungkook denied, ironically more focused on Taehyung than before. God, he was desperate, stupidly desperate, it almost made him want to laugh yet again. Maybe if he wasn’t making up fictional scenarios, maybe if eighty percent of his orgasms in the past few weeks weren’t reached by thinking about Taehyung railing him until he couldn’t feel his legs, maybe if-

“Yeah, drool a little more,” Jimin remarked, “it’s a good look on you.”

Ripped back to reality, Jungkook returned the elbow to the shoulder to Jimin. He knew Jimin was onto him, but fuck, how could he not notice that ass and not think about all that-

“So you’re not on that shit anymore?”

Jungkook watched – watched and thought, mind folding around what he saw, imagination working around the sight of Taehyung’s hands, the things they could do, around the wonderful image of Taehyung’s exposed neck, glistening with a light sheen of sweat, so deliciously smooth to kiss and bite-

“I’m not on that shit anymore,” he affirmed, lying so terribly that he was sure there was dust coming out of his mouth.

Taehyung laughed, baring his teeth in a smile, and while listening something Namjoon was telling him, he bit into his lip. Sinking his teeth into it, god damn it, the way he always sank them into Jungkook’s neck and shoulder when they fucked facing each other, the way he marked him, marked him differently than he did to Jimin-

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Slipping his hand under the blanket, Jungkook adjusted his pants in a way that he hoped wasn’t too obvious. It was pointing down to one thing, the only solution in this situation, because with Hyejin, or whatever the fuck her name was, in the game, there was no way he was going to as much as breathe around Taehyung if it meant bothering him. It was all pointing down to one thing, because with every single look at Taehyung, his mind, fucked up right from the morning and doping him with hormones for an unknown fucking reason, worked the imagination. Worked it so well, based on experience, based on wishes, and he knew that this was the moment that he breaks.

“You know what,” Jungkook stammered, eyes still locked somewhere on Taehyung’s torso.

“What?”

“I might still be on that shit,” Jungkook decided, and was already standing up, pawing for Jimin’s hand and pulling him along.

“What-“

“Come-come on, Jimin, let’s go,” Jungkook managed to stutter out, breaths already short and labored, and he made sure to not grant Taehyung with a single look as he stormed out, dragging the increasingly confused Jimin behind him.

This was the moment he loses it, he knew it. God, maybe with a sober mind he would know better, would know not to fall apart right on the finish line, but the mind he had right now, hazed with sheer want from the moment he woke up, wasn’t doing its job too well.

“What the fuck,” Jimin echoed behind him, but there was an amusing swing to his voice, as if he was not entirely sure what is happening, but had a solid idea, one that he surely liked.

Without an answer, Jungkook dragged him along the corridor of the complex, mind calculating where possibly they could get lost for a few minutes without being noticed or interrupted. He scanned the hallway they just came out of, one leading to the small arena, and looked ahead to see any doors. Absentmindedly, he took the ones on the left, not bothering to knock or check if they were locked, and he found himself in a half-finished tackroom.

There were a few saddles tossed on makeshift stands, some on the floor, a few saddle pads haphazardly thrown on a twine tied from one wall to the other, and a plastic box filled with a tangle of bridles placed on an office table in the corner. That will do.

With a firm slam of the door, they were left alone in the room, and Jungkook was already backing up to sit on the table.

“God, what’s gotten into you?” Jimin mumbled, but started digging into Jungkook’s belt anyway, probably noticing how hard he was, and deciding he needed saving.

“I don’t fucking- ah, I don’t know,” Jungkook panted into Jimin’s lips as he pulled him closer, not kissing just yet, not wanting to give up so easy, though he knew that ship was long sailed. He leaned his head back and pressed his chest forward, asserting the need to be touched, and Jimin got right to it. Sliding his hands up Jungkook’s inner thighs, Jimin shuffled closer, finally landing a kiss on Jungkook’s neck.

A shiver ran down his back, and he haphazardly pushed Jimin’s hand to his groin, making sure to pin it over his cock, painfully hard by now.

“Do something, get me out of these,” Jungkook whined, yet didn’t do anything himself, just kept a small plea in the back of his throat to have his needs satisfied. And Jimin, of course, carried on with his ministrations, not once stopping to touch all he could, until his hands were right on the zipper of Jungkook’s pants. A dig inside, a small pull, a gasp. Jimin hooked his fingers in the belt loops and wiggled the pants off, Jungkook helping him all too eagerly, going as far and shoving his boxers right off.

Closing his eyes, Jungkook let his mind go places, let his mind drown in itself, because fuck Taehyung. He was lying to himself bitterly, but yes, fuck Taehyung, the world doesn’t revolve around him. His cock twitched as the sound of Jimin spitting in his palm echoed in the room.

“Lube,” Jungkook gasped when Jimin’s slick fingers slithered around the girth of Jungkook’s cock for the first time, cold, but warming up quickly.

“We’ll have to make do,” Jimin shrugged with but a whisper, and snaked his other hand into Jungkook’s hair, lips brushing once again, as his hand set a steady pace around Jungkook’s cock.

“Jimin,” another plea made its way out of Jungkook’s lips, and he knew it was going to fuck up the moment, he knew it was going to cause a pause and a face, he knew it was going to flush every piece of dignity he had before himself down the drain. But there was no clear thinking, there was no evaluation, and it left his lips, syllable by a syllable, an indicator of what Jungkook knew he wanted to happen next.

“Jimin, finger me, please, finger me-“

A pause. Of course, expected. Just a small one, just a small moment of Jimin’s hand freezing. And then a new wave of energy, Jungkook’s leg pushed up, and another sound of spitting.

“Y-yeah, okay,” Jimin panted, and Jungkook forced his eyes open, head tipping to the side in surprise at the sight of Jimin looking nearly dominant, a little unsure, but still in control, and that’s when it hit Jungkook – maybe Jimin  wasn’t used to topping because everyone always assumed he wants to bottom, when in reality, Jimin might enjoy being in power for a change.

With his head tossed back, Jungkook gasped upon the feeling of Jimin pressing one slick finger against his hole, a delicious shiver running up his spine from the feeling alone, because fuck, finally, it was someone else doing it after all those weeks. He bucked his hips up, hungry and demanding for more, pressing against Jimin’s finger.

“Damn it, wait,” Jimin laughed wearily and pushed all the way in, tearing a high whimper from Jungkook.

“Fuck, I forgot how loud you get when something’s up your ass,” Jimin commented and got to working his hand, the movement skilled and well-aimed.

Not enough.

Jungkook rocked his hips against Jimin again, trying to drown in the sensation, instantly wanting more. Not enough, not enough, it’s not it. He reached forward and dug his fingers into Jimin’s forearm, forcing his hand down.

“More,” he panted, eyes glazed and voice broken, “more.”

After his eyes momentarily widened, Jimin complied, tutting, and added another finger, effectively bringing tears to Jungkook’s eyes. God, did it feel good, finally, finally something. Not enough. It was fucking good, alright, it felt great. Not enough.

Jungkook grit his teeth, not letting the frustration bite through just yet, though as Jimin’s fingers brushed his prostate ever so lightly, barely there, he found the words practically rolling off his tongue on their own, tossing every single bit of rational thinking and pride on the floor.

“Fuck me, Jimin, please, fuck me-”

It was a cry, a proper one, a loud one, not a whisper nor a plea, but a loud cry propelled by the built up frustration, by the want sizzling in him, by the dumb fucking mood he’s been in all day. By his own self-restraint placed on him by the fact that Taehyung was busy.

Jimin backed up, the motions of his hand stilling for a moment. Jungkook opened his eyes, glistening with tears of absolute and utter frustration, and he clawed on Jimin’s shirt, hips bucking up into nothing.

“Please, Jimin, I’m going to lose my fucking mind,” he begged once again, barely hearing himself, “fuck me, please, I need a cock in me.”

“Jungkook,” Jimin hesitated, almost – a rare sight, really, especially when sex was the matter. Jimin never hesitated, Jimin just went, Jimin didn’t think, after all, it was him that started grabbing a flustered and tearful Jungkook by the dick after that one shitty lesson with Taehyung. Jimin wasn’t one to hesitate, and that’s when Jungkook knew that it might not be Jimin’s cup of tea after all.

“Jimin,” he tried nevertheless, just one more time, questioningly, “can you please fuck me? Please-“

Jungkook might have had gotten an answer, maybe he would find out Jimin actually wasn’t about topping at all. Maybe he would get a yes, maybe he would get at least half of what he wanted, something that would keep him tame at least until the time was right again.

But he didn’t, for he was interrupted by the sound of a door being opened.

And as Jungkook was slung over Jimin, facing the door on a straight line, his eyes locked with Taehyung’s in a millisecond.

His mind sputtered to a halt, freezing, and the shiver his body entered was probably just shock, but he could barely utter a single damn word. He stared, mouth falling open and eyebrows knitted together, fingers still around Jimin’s forearm, though Jimin’s fingers have long left his body by now, and he just stared.

“Jeon,” Taehyung glowered, expression unreadable and eyes dark with something Jungkook had no capacity to categorize in a moment like this, “come with me.”

“Taehyung-“ Jungkook managed to scramble, voice breaking. He had never been caught like this, never been alone with Jimin and had Taehyung come in, they either started all together or only in pairs, and this, he decided, was the worst possible moment to have a first.

Taehyung, however, didn’t seem fazed or offended. He stepped into the room, Jimin moving to the side like he knew exactly that for now, his time here was done. With a swift motion, Taehyung had Jungkook off the table, and the younger barely managed to hastily put his pants back on.

“Taehyung,” he tried again, voice now firmer but never less confused. How did Taehyung even find them? Why suddenly, just because he showed up, Taehyung seemed to own everything? Jungkook remained frozen in place for a while, considering his options, knowing all too well what the final one was going to be, but there was still a tickle of defiance somewhere in him, holding on to his pride.

“I said come with me,” Taehyung repeated with a voice so low and firm, that Jungkook instantly found his attempted resistance shattering, and turned into putty under Taehyung’s sudden grip on his wrist.

In a frenzy, he found himself dragged along the hallway he previously came from, pushed into a door right at the end of it, and rammed into a wall. The second the door clicked, Taehyung had him all to his mercy.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook repeated, mumbling his name like some sort of plea for help, and his breath jumped when Taehyung’s hands instantly started digging into Jungkook’s pants, reopening what he closed seconds ago.

Jungkook stumbled when he felt a grip on his waist, urging him to turn around and backwards, until he found himself yet on another table. In a haze, he managed to notice he myriad of ribbons displayed on the wall in front of him.

With one hand now down Jungkook’s pants to rub at the head of his cock, smearing precum in the slit an absolutely torturous motion, Taehyung lifted the other one only to plunge his fingers right into Jungkook’s mouth. He, of course, met no resistance, as Jungkook pliantly opened his mouth. Mind empty, zero rationality, just Taehyung, Taehyung, Taehyung, and he started swirling his tongue around the fingers in his mouth like it would save his life.

“Jimin?” Taehyung spoke finally, his voice almost scornful. “Really?”

Jungkook didn’t really understand, maybe even felt a little bit of an insult in Taehyung’s tone, for Jimin didn’t do anything wrong, but forgot it very quickly when Taehyung, contrasting with Jimin’s wiggling way, ripped Jungkook’s pants off along with his boxers. His hand incessantly rubbed on Jungkook’s slit, never touching the girth, just maintaining the sweet, sweet torture that had Jungkook’s thighs shaking.

“Is it so bad you have to ask Jimin to fuck you?” Taehyung chuckled lowly and finally pulled his fingers out of Jungkook’s mouth, shaking his hand lightly to break the string of saliva connecting it to Jungkook’s glistening lips. Jungkook just nodded, dumbly, like he didn’t even know what Taehyung was asking. Fuck, he didn’t even want to imagine what he must have looked like, for he could feel the flush painting his face.

A mixture of guilt and accomplishment overlapped in him, because shit, Taehyung shouldn’t be losing time with this right now, Taehyung should be warming up and practicing, but Jungkook couldn’t bring himself to care enough. Didn’t have it in him to resist, to ask Taehyung to stop, especially when Taehyung made the decision to find him. He wouldn’t tell him to stop, he wouldn’t, God, he wouldn’t.

As Taehyung sternly lifted him on the table, followed by shoving his fingers knuckle-deep in his own mouth to slick them up some more, Jungkook couldn’t contain the shivery gasp that rushed through him. His sight remained locked on Taehyung, but blurred with lust as he watched Taehyung suck on his own fingers, something about it so fucking hot Jungkook had to lean his head back, otherwise he would lose his cool and touch himself.

It was when Taehyung harshly pressed two of his fingers past Jungkook’s rim, still wet from Jimin’s previous actions, that Jungkook’s hand flew up to cover his mouth.

“I know you too well,” Taehyung continued, leaning forward to rasp right into Jungkook’s ear. “You can try to bullshit yourself, but we both know Jimin wouldn’t do it for you, right?”

A nod. A quick, enthusiastic nod was all Jungkook managed, as his cock jumped painfully upon every single word that left Taehyung’s lips, upon the dripping, thick voice caressing his skin and sending shivers down his neck, and he felt his thighs quivering briefly, yet uncontrollably, when Taehyung’s long, precise fingers rammed right into his prostate. This is it. This is enough.

“Yeah, see?” Taehyung sneered, the rasp in his voice consistently driving Jungkook crazy, and he allowed himself to lock his eyes with Taehyung’s, hooded and darkened with pure, unmasked lust. “You’re trembling on my fingers, because you know it’s me. Because no one can fuck you better than me.”

Fuck, fuck, yes, that was absolutely fucking right. Yet another moan tore its way out of Jungkook’s throat, resonating in the room, and it was followed by a gasp when Taehyung slipped his fingers out, dragging them by the rim painstakingly slowly, only to stab them right back and sending Jungkook’s legs into yet another shiver.

“Just how no one takes my cock like you,” Taehyung dragged his lips along Jungkook’s neck, getting Jungkook to pray that he sinks his teeth in, that he marks him, “but you wouldn’t want any other anyway, would you, Jeon?”

Jungkook felt his cock pulse nearly unpleasantly, but was forced to ignore it when Taehyung grabbed Jungkook’s wrist by his free hand, guiding his palm to his own clothed cock, and shit, Jungkook’s head spun. It was total and absolute sensory overload, yet so familiar, so similar to how they first fucked in Taehyung’s office, yet with such different energy. Jungkook obediently placed his hand on Taehyung’s crotch, mind blanking upon the feeling of Taehyung’s hard, warm girth under his hand, throbbing into his palm and fuck, Jungkook couldn’t wait to have that up in him.

“Fuck Jimin all you want, he likes your cock anyway. But this,” Taehyung said lowly as he took an especially powerful thrust to Jungkook’s prostate, stabilizing with a hand on the younger’s waist, “is mine.”

Absolutely, Jungkook thought, and nodded ardently, pushing back on Taehyung’s fingers.

“I know you don’t mind me saying it, because you want it like that, right? Fucking correct me if I’m wrong, say the word and I’ll stop,” Taehyung leaned closer in yet again, growling right into Jungkook’s ear, but got no answer. There was no way, no way in hell Jungkook would stop him, not now, not ever, there was no way Jungkook would stop him when he was tiptoeing around his orgasm. He shivered again, hand slacking from where it was right on Taehyung’s crotch, and flew up to grip the side of the table.

“Yeah,” Taehyung snickered, content, “you won’t, will you? This is all you’ve been thinking about while I was busy, right? Because fuck, me too, Jeon. But I must’ve edged you on accident, because you’re close, aren’t you?”

Another nod, nothing but a shaky nod. Jungkook couldn’t get a word out, not with his mouth stuck open, eyes squeezed tight and eyebrows furrowed. His body trembled in somewhat of a shock, muscles convulsing, and he threw his head back to savour the delicious sensations, to savour Taehyung’s hands all over and inside him, and he nodded yet again, because he indeed was close.

“I know I’ve been busy,” Taehyung pulled away, eyes locking right on Jungkook’s face, “And I know you’ve been absolutely fucking desperate. So, just give it a few more hours, maybe less.”

He leaned forward again, lips right in Jungkook’s ear, so close the touch of his breath ran down Jungkook’s neck and complemented with the bolts of pleasure shooting from his prostate. Jungkook could hear the smack of Taehyung licking his lips, and in a voice lower than ever before, dripping like honey, yet so, so sick and dangerous, Taehyung said it.

“Give it a few more hours, and when I win this thing, I’ll rail your sorry ass so hard you’ll forget you’d ever ask Jimin to fuck you.”

Jungkook knew that Taehyung spitting Jimin’s name with such scorn shouldn’t sound this fucking hot, but it did. It did, every single word in the sentence did, every single word in the sentence made for a thick drop of precum pearling at the slit of his cock, making a mess on his stomach and sliding down his thighs, and he found himself right on the cusp of coming.

“T-Tae-I’m gonna-“

“No, you’re not.”

And in that moment, all was gone. Again. Taehyung’s hands, his lips, the warmth. It was all gone, and there was just Taehyung standing before him, but Jungkook almost lost his mind anyway. Taehyung’s face carried all possible signs of arousal; flushed cheeks and glassy eyes, sweat collecting at the hairline, all tied with the outline of his hard, long cock through the pearly white breeches, and Jungkook couldn’t stop his mouth from salivating.

“A few more hours,” Taehyung repeated, stabbing a look right into Jungkook, “don’t you fucking dare touch yourself. Every single orgasm you have today is mine.”

With that, and quick flick of his tongue to the corner of his mouth, Taehyung turned around, once again leaving Jungkook alone, hard, and god fucking damn it, frustrated beyond belief.

But this time, it was different. Because this time, he knew.

Yeah, sure, did Taehyung ditch him right on the tip of coming? Yes, but fuck, Jungkook found himself grinning anyway. Because if the day was going to go the way Taehyung promised, it was going to go really fucking well.

Taehyung said when he wins, Jungkook remembered, leaning his head back against the wall. God, that was hot. It was sickening, everything about Taehyung was fucking sexy, alluring and irresistible, from his behavior to his ways, and especially when he had a mindset like this. Mindset, in which he was the only one in his world, in which he was the one that was going to win, and Jungkook would be damned if that wasn’t one of the most attractive things about Taehyung.

With that same dumb smile on his lips, Jungkook hopped off the table and pulled his pants up, hissing when the cloth brushed over his half-hard cock, still sticky and wet, and he would lie if the thought of finishing himself off didn’t cross his mind.

But only for a second, truly, because doing that right now would be like stopping before the finish line and giving up the prize just for a quarter on the ground. So he mindlessly buckled his pants, huffing, trying not to let his mind wander to how affected Taehyung was, to how much Taehyung wanted him. That, along with others, was yet another thing that drove Jungkook nuts – that someone like Taehyung wanted him, someone like Taehyung was so affected by him. An image of Taehyung always so disheveled, hard and fuming, impatient and ready to rip, flashed through his mind, somewhat of a horny pride swelling in his chest, because that was his doing. What a wonderful fucking thing to realize.

Through all the scenarios and realizations whirring in his brain, that certainly didn’t help his dick to soften, he pulled out his phone to check the time. He hummed.

It was about time he got to the main arena. Taehyung had a show to win.

__________________________________

After reuniting with Jimin in the main arena, both of them looking askance while exchanging a hello, they trudged to the ingate with Taehyung beside them. Pacing around Million was Namjoon, doing some final checkups, tightening the girth, asking Taehyung to check if his stirrups feel alright. Taehyung waved him off with a scrunched nose, saying he was in the saddle an hour ago and the stirrups didn’t change. Namjoon, clearly more freaked out than Taehyung, just nodded and moved to check the bridle.

“I got a new bridle,” Taehyung pointed out, as if he hasn’t had it for a good week now.

“We know, Taehyung,” Jimin sighed.

“I cleaned it all pretty.”

“We know, Taehyung.”

“There’s gonna be a ribbon on that bridle.”

“We know, Taehyung.”

Jungkook scanned the crowd, scanned the screens and the flags displayed around the ring, and it occurred  to him that this was a major fucking deal for Taehyung. Though there was still the ghost touch of Taehyung’s hands all over him, and though his entire lower body was positively letting him know, he was barely noticing it. All his attention was concentrated on the show itself.

“Okay,” Namjoon exhaled, finally content with Taehyung’s tack after fifteen minutes of fiddling with it, and looked up at Taehyung, “Moretti’s on first. Then you, then Ahn.”

Taehyung tutted upon the name, his lip twitching up in scorn, but nodded nevertheless, readjusting his grip on the reins. He was showing no signs of distress or anxiety, and neither was Million, which, Jungkook thought, was pretty fucking neat. Looking at Taehyung when he looked like this, so professional and spotless, awoke something within Jungkook. He managed to categorize it as motivation, bordering with admiration. Because damn, Taehyung really did look different. His attire contrasted with his usual barn outfit, and Jungkook didn’t have it in him to stop staring. Where there was usually nothing but a headband pushing his hair out of his face, was now a beautiful matte blue helmet, unmistakable Samshield logo adorning it. Where Taehyung usually had a shirt and breeches, now a black coat hugged his torso, not to mention the delicious white breeches. Instead of his usual black Vans, a pair of squeaky clean leather boots sat, and to top it all off, Taehyung was wearing a pair of black gloves, seamed with white. Jungkook had never seen Taehyung wear gloves.

It took him a second to take his eyes off his trainer, looking more divine than ever, but as he finally managed, his ears perked up to the commentators voice, and his eyes finally redirected to the ring.

“Here’s miss Panini with her genetic mutant,” Taehyung noted, earning a smack on the thigh from Namjoon, though even he cracked up.

“As of now, this is Linda Moretti with Dimonda Fiammata, Italy’s challenger,” the commentator said, painfully slowly, and Jungkook squinted into distance to see.

A middle aged woman on a tall, sturdy bay was now cantering around in the ring, and it took Jungkook all of two seconds to notice what Taehyung meant when he talked about Linda’s hands.

“Oh shit,” he slipped, when Linda’s wrists reached practically her waist, elbows well behind her body and no flexion in the rein whatsoever. With a drastic loss of contact such as this one, it should be either impossible or gravely difficult to jump a five feet something triple bar, specifically the one Linda was just now firing at.

“Don’t tell me she’s gonna make that,” Jungkook gasped quietly, his hand stopping below his chin after he failed to bring it all the way up to his mouth and cover it in disbelief.

“She’s not,” Taehyung shrugged, “Miss Fiammata is.”

True to Taehyung’s words, even with a level of riding Jungkook was at, he didn’t fail to notice that Moretti jumped the triple bar by the seat of her pants, while her mare fired off like she was a clockwork machine. Perfect distance, wonderful landing, and an instant collection after the jump. There was no bringing the horse’s shoulders up, there was nothing of what Jungkook was used to seeing or used to being told to do, just some sort of an all-round mess, despite which her horse worked like it was programmed and did it all itself.

Well, it was something equestrians generally cringed upon to a great measure, but this was a real life case of when a horse did all the work.

“What the fuck is this girl doing,” Taehyung palmed on his face, just as Linda made a turn after the triple bar way too early, and was now coming at the wall at an angle.

“Slice and dice,” Jimin commented airily, his arms crossed on his chest, and earned a tut and smirk from Taehyung.

“Alright, that triple was easy for Fiammata, we know she’s a capable jumper, let’s see if she’s a wall jumper too,” the commentator said with small pauses between the words, causing Jungkook to chuckle upon realizing that the commentator probably wasn’t all too sure what to say about Linda in the first place, so he resorted to talking about the horse instead.

At a disastrous angle, with hands now terribly planted up the mare’s mane for no apparent reason, Linda made an approach to the wall. The mare, who might have as well been freejumping, effortlessly straightened her rider’s fucked up approach, adjusted her stride, and took off at an ideal distance, not taking a single block with her.

The stadium roared with applause, overlapping with the commentator’s shocked ‘yes, she is!’ and with Taehyung’s scoff, and Linda leaned forward to pet her horse on the neck, a smile stretched across her face.

“Happy with herself,” Taehyung hummed, “let’s see how far she can take that.”

“Not too far,” Namjoon joined in, and gestured towards the ring, “I give her the next round. She can’t go on like this forever, there will be a point where her horse’s scope won’t get her out of her shit.”

Jungkook nodded for himself, writing it all down in a mental note, so he could use all of it later. He, yet again, came to realize the privilege he had, the privilege of being here and learning from a real situation, even if as an observer only.

He mindlessly scanned the ring to see if Moretti had left, only for the realization to hit him. It was Taehyung’s round next. Looking up, he threw Taehyung a telltale frown.

“How tall is it?” Jungkook gulped, grabbing Taehyung by the ankle. “How tall is it in this round?”

“Chill, Jeon,” Taehyung laughed, and looked ahead, “6’6. Nothing too terrible. Been there, done that.”

Then, he leaned to the side, so low his face was leveled with Jungkook’s, and with a quick motion of his hand brought Jungkook’s ear to his lips.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, the heat of his breath caressing Jungkook’s skin, “I’m still going to win.”

In somewhat of a trance, and with his pulse beating well below his belt yet again, Jungkook stood rooted to the spot, watching Taehyung leave the ingate. He knew this was just the first round, he knew Taehyung will get this just fine. He knew, and he kept reminding himself, but it didn’t change anything about the nervous shiver in Jungkook’s body, keeping him bouncing on his tiptoes.

“Now next to go,” the commentator echoed, “it’s the turn of Kim Taehyung here with Million Dollar Man. Last year’s runner up.”

This wasn’t about Taehyung’s promise anymore. This was about the unbelievable energy of the show, about the face of Ahn Hyejin standing right at the ingate with her grey mare, slicing the arena in half with her gaze, this was about the fact that Taehyung was out there right now, on the eyes of everyone around.

Jungkook almost shoved his fist in his mouth from the nerves, biting at his knuckles when Taehyung made a smooth transition and began his course.

Million carried himself better than Jungkook has ever seen, really. Charged to the fullest yet organized, using his power in such a blissfully effective way, that Jungkook barely noticed before they were making an approach for the triple bar.

The triple bar was insignificant for Taehyung, apparently – he popped over it like he was warming up with crossrails. Jungkook found his hand now covering his mouth, his heart somewhere in his throat.

“Very easy on the triple bar, Taehyung has a very solid technique of the approach, we can see that it works every time, too,” the commentator said approvingly, the nods of praise from the other commentator mixing in with the sound of it.

“There was really no trouble with the wall last time, let’s if…” the commentator trailed off, apparently completely focused on Taehyung now approaching the wall on a straight line.

“Eyes up, Taehyung, eyes up,” Namjoon muttered for himself, bouncing his leg, mirroring Jungkook’s shaken up fidgeting.

Jungkook wasn’t sure if he wanted to look. He knew it was going to be good, but he didn’t want to look anyway. Yet he did, he popped his thumb in his mouth and started biting at it, going as far as cracking his knuckles, and was left with a small gasp.

A small gasp of anticipation, and when the view of Taehyung’s straight back was replaced with the image of Million’s backside and the quick flash of his shiny hind shoes, applause echoed.

It happened in a flash, and it didn’t surprise Jungkook, but he began clapping anyway, almost wiping his forehead  with the back of his hand. He sighed in relief, and looked right up to the screen to watch the replay of how Taehyung effortlessly cleared a fucking two metre wall.

“Yeah, that was just great, I would even say perhaps too easy for, uh, Million, we can see he still had space up there,” the commentator said almost happily, prompting Jungkook to squint to see the replay better. He heard Jimin exhale behind him.

“All three will be in the second round,” Jimin said through clenched teeth, though there was an evidence of relief on his face as well.

“How do you know?” Jungkook lifted his eyebrows. “The Ahn chick didn’t go yet.”

“She’s not going to fuck around in the first round, Jungkook,” Jimin chuckled amusedly, “she’s practically in the second already.”

At this, something unpleasant bit at Jungkook’s chest, maybe more anxiety gnawing at him, as if the show was his to win. He rolled his eyes and started pacing on the spot, waiting for Taehyung to come back eventually.

It didn’t take too long for him to resurface, and he did so right at the beginning of Ahn Hyejin’s round with Dahomé. No one paid much mind to her until Taehyung showed up, for he showed up with a profuse arsenal of comments on her person.

“Hoe’s got spurs on but can’t shorten her stride,” Taehyung announced, hopping off to get a water bottle, “looks to me like her horse could use some ketamine.”

Jimin smacked his shoulder as a response, causing Taehyung to spill water on himself. Now, Jimin was the one to get smacked.

As Jungkook was standing a little to the side and watching Hyejin go about her round, clearing the wall and landing with a shit-eating grin, he felt a pair of hands on his waist. Goosebumps rose on every single square inch of his skin.

“How you holding up?” he heard Taehyung rasp into his ear from the back, and felt the grip around his waist tighten as Taehyung gradually wrapped his arms around him.

“All good,” Jungkook answered, a little shake of breath accompanying his response, but was pleased to feel that his body was too nervous about Taehyung’s results to get too horny right now.

“Yeah, me too,” Taehyung hummed and rested his chin on Jungkook’s shoulder, “but God, I can’t wait to bend you over something. Maybe fuck you into the wall the second we find a room. I’ll see.”

The words were breathy, shaky, and Jungkook once again realized how fucking badly Taehyung wanted him. He almost slipped a groan at it. Taehyung, being the piece of shit he was, emphasized his words with pressing to Jungkook tighter, and God, Jungkook pursed his lips in agony when he felt Taehyung press his hips closer into Jungkook’s ass, making sure he would feel the outline of his cock.

“I’ve been half hard through all my fucking round, can you believe that,” Taehyung gasped into Jungkook’s ear and laughed immediately afterwards, a little scandalised by himself.

Yeah, whatever Jungkook felt before, all that ‘not getting horny’ bullshit? Yeah, that was gone.

“Stop,” Jungkook mouthed and started prying into Taehyung’s hands to release the grip on his waist, because he truly didn’t want to witness the remaining rounds with a boner.

“Hey, lovebirds,” Namjoon called out from behind them, effectively stretching a grimace on Jungkook’s face, but at last making Taehyung let Jungkook go, “Taehyung’s on soon. Get the hell back on.”

Though Taehyung did drop his hands from Jungkook’s waist, the ghost touch lingered, and Jungkook felt the neediness wake up in him again. Fortunately, Linda Moretti was just about to begin, which sparked enough anxiety in Jungkook to disregard it.

Jungkook shuffled forward in the ingate to see better, only to have Jimin and Namjoon come right up behind him.

“I give her, like, twenty seconds,” Namjoon hummed, looking at his nails.

It seemed as though his words would turn out to be true, too – despite clearing the triple bar alright, Fiammata could only do so much alone. With zero support on the lateral, her turn got a little too wide, causing a small angle.

“Slice and dice,” Jimin repeated diligently, even though Fiammata was already straightening.

“Watch this, she’s not gonna clear that shit,” Taehyung grinned, eyes glimmering with expectation and maybe a little mischief, as if he knew what was going to happen.

And truly, the slightest angle caused Fiammata’s stride to shorten, and without anyone to adjust it, she got awfully deep. Maybe at a smaller height, she would’ve gotten away with it. Not at the whooping 6’8 the wall was at right now, and with a noiseless thud, Fiammata’s knees took one block down with her.

“It’s just you and miss Ketamine now,” Jimin remarked, turning his head back to Taehyung. He nodded. Jungkook looked forward again, where the screen was replaying the fault. As the camera landed upon Linda’s face, it was rather clear she was not too content.

As Taehyung left the ingate and the commentator announced him, Jungkook decided to go get water instead, because he was saving the last bits of his sanity for the third round. That was going to be some nerve-wracking shit. He really fucking hoped either Hyejin or Taehyung would fuck up in the third round, preferably Hyejin – he was pretty sure he wouldn’t stand another round of pure stress.

He sipped at the cold water, just loitering around. For a second, he regretted not watching Taehyung’s round, but one muffled word from the commentator resonating behind his back convinced him he’d rather save the last of his sanity for the third round. If Taehyung didn’t come through the second round, he wouldn’t want to see it anyway. He was also pretty sure he’d chew his hands off if he were to watch through every bit of the rounds.

Only when applause echoed around the arena, Jungkook came back, immensely relieved to see Taehyung cantering around on a long rein and granting Million with pats on his neck, the screen playing his successful jump in the background.

He decided to trudge around some more, not wanting to witness Hyejin’s performance either, and decided to make his way back to the lobby to get something to eat for Taehyung.

Once he came back to the ingate for the third time, wandering like a lost soul, he was told by an overly excited Jimin that Hyejin did clear the wall, but one block moved.

“Wait, did it fall?” Jungkook asked in disbelief as he handed Taehyung a granola bar he grabbed on random.

“No, no,” Jimin exclaimed with widened eyes, sounding hopeful, “but it moved.  She didn’t look happy. I think she might have trouble at the bigger height.”

“Of course she will have trouble,” Taehyung called from Million’s back as he looked down at Jungkook, chewing on the bar with a satisfied grin, as if he already knew he owned this shit, “not only she got deep, the jump itself was tight like your ass. She will knock shit in the next round.”

Jungkook cracked up at the sickeningly positive mindset, and walked over to Taehyung, who was handing him the wrapper.

“Are you nervous?” Jungkook said conversationally as he shoved the wrapper in his pocket instead of throwing it out.

The initial answer was a deep and heartfelt snort, so mocking and so Taehyung.

“Jeon,” Taehyung sighed, a delightful drag in the tone of his voice, “this bitch is moving blocks around, pissed that I’m about to decimate her ass, and you want me to be nervous? Suck my dick and disappoint me.”

And with that, and the unmistakable grin in which he bared all his teeth and pressed his tongue to the roof of his mouth, Taehyung’s heels tickled Million’s sides, and they entered the ring for the third round.

For the millionth time since he met Taehyung, Jungkook was left astonished at Taehyung’s skills and energy. It was mesmerizing to the fullest. Jungkook didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching Taehyung ride. Whether it was Helena, whether it was Million, or any horse Taehyung was entrusted with, whether it was the very first lesson, when Jungkook stood awestruck in the arena and watched someone make a lesson pony from his nutcase of a mare, whether it was the fucking Puissance. Taehyung had something others didn’t, and it wasn’t just his position.

It was the energy and mindset he entered the ring with, it was the magnetism and confidence shining all around him, the stupid little smirk he always got when he knew it was in the bag, like the one he had just now. That smirk that didn’t worry about competition, that smirk that wasn’t in the slightest stressed about the seven feet wall, the one that didn’t give a shit there was one Hyejin all but looking to crush him alive. He didn’t give a shit, because he only saw his goals that he went for no matter what, and if that wasn’t one of the most inspiring things about Taehyung, Jungkook wasn’t sure what it was.

Taehyung began his course, with the voice of the commentator in the background, but there was too much of a buzz in Jungkook’s ears to hear it properly. Everything sounded muffled, uncertain, all he could see was Taehyung.

The triple bar was just another speed bump in the way, though it got Jungkook to huff in relief anyway. For a second, he tilted his head to the side to ponder at the union of Taehyung and his horse, just for a second, because there was something enthralling about the way they practically created one body and one being to clear the jump. Upon landing, Taehyng was already grinning.

“He knows he’s good,” Jimin whispered, and Jungkook could do nothing but nod in disbelief, “he knows he’s fucking good.”

And Taehyung knew, Taehyung truly knew. Because there was no other explanation for the everlasting grin on his face as he set on an approach, arrow straight right on the wall.

Jungkook noticed Jimin grabbed his hand.

This time, as opposing to the first round, Jungkook felt like it happened in slow motion. It seemed as though the approach line took hours, time stretched.

Taehyung stayed in light seat, for Million was eager, ever so fresh and bouncing in his step like a rocking horse, his energy packed and ready to blow. Taehyung pulled his elbows to his body and suppled the rein a few times, getting Million’s stride to remain compact. And as there was a clear, straight line in front of them, and Million’s stride remained ideal, Taehyung sat back in a well-organized motion, stayed in nothing but contact.

And that, the moment of taking off, was when time suddenly sped up, went back to normal, and if Jungkook blinked, he would’ve missed the was Million took the wall like a spring, the bodies of a human and an animal in seamless tandem. With zero hesitation on Taehyung’s or Million’s side, with such ease and so effortlessly, like he couldn’t wait to do it, and Taehyung let him, went with him, and all Jungkook found in himself was a memory of Taehyung telling him to go with his horse. Was this what it meant?

The motor in Million’s hind kicked, muscles tightening, and by a hoof, they made it over without knocking.

In the first moment, right as he landed, Taehyung snapped his head back to check the wall. And from there, it took all of a second, and the commentator’s ‘Holy!’ for the applause to grow around the arena, accompanied by scattered whooping and whistles, and Jungkook planted his hands in his hair in utter joy when he saw Taehyung thrust his fist into the air in a gesture of triumph. He lived for this, Jungkook noticed. Not for the audience, not for the prizes, no, he lived for the feeling of overcoming himself. He knew he was good, and the only person he ever needed to beat was himself. And he did, he always did, and  the evidential wide grin on his face was a priceless reminder of it.

Jimin grabbed Jungkook around the neck and started jumping around, repeating ‘yes, yes, yes’ and patting his shoulders. Though he joined, Jungkook’s head remained turned to the ring where he saw Taehyung leaving through the other side, and his vision was crossed by a grey horse.

Stiff, Jungkook looked up and shook Jimin’s hold off him, eyes clashing with Ahn Hyejin’s. He knew there was some kind of a bite on her tongue, one that she was planning to spill, and he gulped under her gaze. She tilted her head, and truly looked like she was going to say something, like there was a drop of poison about to drip from her lips, only to cluck and move forward, out of the ingate.

“Here we go, Ahn Hyejin and Dahomé, the winners from last year,” the commentator announced, and Jungkook wondered Taehyung went.

Hyejin stood in front of the wall for a while, walking in front of it and letting her horse check it out. She backed up, and made a transition on the spot, planning out her turn to the triple bar.

Jungkook couldn’t not notice that Hyejin’s position was practically flawless, with steady seat and stable body. She lacked none of the smoothness Taehyung had, the flow in her horse’s gait was undeniable, yet there was something missing. Jungkook couldn’t put his finger on it, and it was not because he was biased.

Hyejin’s approach to the triple was a little rushed but well-distanced anyway, and Dahomé took it with a wide jump, though Jungkook couldn’t help but notice it was a little flat compared to Taehyung’s.

„That was flat like her ass,“ Jimin voiced out his thoughts right behind him, but no one else seemed to comment on it. Rather, the stadium went dead quiet was she made an approach to the wall.

Her stride was different from Taehyung’s, and she had a clearly different technique, as she relied on the length of her stride and on the scope.

Jungkook, once again, sank his teeth into his hand, not even daring to breathe. There was pressure on her, he realized, because everyone expected her to win yet again. Everyone expected her to clear the wall and to stretch the competition to the fourth round, maybe on.

Staying well-aimed and powering forward, Hyejin went into light seat, and as oppsing to Taehyung, she decided to opt for organizing her stride right in front of the wall. It must have been effective the past years.

But as she took off at a fairly good distance, and as Jimin grabbed Jungkook’s hand yet again, the first thing to break the dead silence in the arena was the soft, dull thud of a wooden block hitting the horse’s knees.

„Oh! What a shame!“ was the first reaction – the commentator, followed by murmur of soft, disappointed aws from the audience. „Everything looked so perfect, you could hear a pin drop in the arena.“

 And then, it hit.

„He won it,“ Jungkook flipped around to look Jimin right in the face, disbelief stretching his expression, and he instantly brought his hands to his mouth, „oh my god, he fucking won it.“

„I thought she had a really good approach, maybe a little far off, let’s have a look at the replay,“ the commentator’s voice sounded in the ring, but blurred and muffled in Jungkook’s ears.

He did it. Taehyung did it. Beat his personal, beat Hyejin. Speaking of Hyejin, whose replay clearly showed the way her horse’s front legs took the block down, snagging on the front of the boots, she was now walking out of the arena, and though her back was bent forward as he patted her horse, Jungkook saw a flash of a cold displease on her face.

Taehyung, he remembered, for he still didn’t know where Taehyung really was, and he decided to bolt back through the lobby and try to find Taehyung somewhere in the hallways.

Taehyung’s name was now being mention right behind Jungkook’s back, in the arena, and he wondered whether Taehyung would enter the arena the way he left it right away. He considered stopping and just going back, for he was worried they will miss each other.

He wasn’t really sure why was he rushing to Taehyung right away, there was just this steady blow of euphoria and relief in him, this absolute pride and happiness, and he just wanted to congratulate Taehyung. He completely forgot about the rest, all that he felt now was a high from victory that wasn’t even his.

He made a turn to the right, one of the hallways he remembered taking when he was previously returning to the arena, and a few people walked past him, all of them presumably on their way to the arena. He ploughed through them and yet again considered turning back and following the flow of the small crowd to the arena, when he saw a flash of white breeches and the well-known brown hair pushed up by a headband.

„Taehyung!“ he called out immediately, a wide smile on his face, and he started rushing towards him. When Taehyung spotted him, Jungkook swore there was a minute glint of elation in his eyes, but his expression didn’t change. Instead, he started making his way right towards Jungkook, his step quick, for the hallway has cleaned out a litte.

„Taehyung!“ Jungkook called again, and spread his arms, ready to capture Taehyung in a hug as he jogged right up to him, pumped with excitement. He saw Taehyung spread his arms too, and somewhat of a smile stretched on his face too. 

Jungkook was ready to return it, to throw his hands around Taehyung’s neck.

„Taehyung, congra-“

But instead of a hug, Taehyung bent over, grabbed Jungkook by the backs of his thighs, and with surprising ease, threw Jungkook over his shoulder.

„Taehyung, what the fuck!“ Jungkook blurted with unmasked confusion in his voice, instantly confused beyond measure and he started lightly kicking his legs. „What the- put me down!“

Pointedly ignoring Jungkook’s complaints, Taehyung turned around and set course to where he came from, deeper into the building and down the hallway. In midst of bouncing up in the extremely uncomfortable position, and blood rushing into his head, Jungkook was trying to fathom what the fuck was Taehyung doing, but the explanation came quickly, and wordlessly, when Jungkook felt a hand on his ass.

„Fuck, I’m gonna pound you, Jeon,“ Taehyung said lowly as he made a turn again, and even hanging like this, Jungkook recognized the hallway where Taehyung previously dragged him into a room. It all came back to him, sheer disbelief washing over him, but it did absolutely nothing to stop his body from realizing the deal, and he could already feel his cock stir. God, Taehyung didn’t even do anything.

They ended up back in the room they’ve been in before, with Jungkook now fully realizing the room was probably some kind of an office, maybe a display room, because one of the walls was almost entirely covered with ribbons, tropheys and whatnot. He also faintly noticed a few framed diplomas and honors, and he truly hoped that the person they belonged to wouldn’t feel the need to check them out in the next thirty minutes.

He found himself rammed on the same table as before, with Taehyung instantly attacking his neck and jaw with kisses, urgent and demanding, with his hands grabbing anything they could reach. Needless to say, Jungkook was hard in seconds, and did not forget to let Taehyung know by pressing their hips together.

„Took you long fucking enough,“ Jungkook hissed both in pain and delight, when Taehyung finally got down to business and started sucking on the soft skin under Jungkook’s jaw, so hard that Jungkook could practically feel the hickey forming. He let out a strained gasp, unable to control his voice, and with every single swipe of Taehyung’s tongue over the sensitive skin, he felt his cock throb harder.

„Fuck, I know- shut up,“ Taehyung mumbled into the skin of Jungkook’s neck, only to get back to it right away, and tactly underline his ministrations by grabbing a good handful of Jungkook’s ass. Throwing his head back, Jungkook let himself sink and fall, completely giving in to the sensation, and was suddenly blessing the weeks of pure sexual frustration, because this shit was worth it. The way Taehyung was sucking and biting on his neck, the way he kept squeezing Jungkook’s ass like he wanted to grab harder but couldn‘t, the way he pressed their bodies together and let their cocks rub into each other with such greed, it was all worth it.

As a smirk crept to Jungkook’s face, he decided to be a little shit, and running his hand through Taehyung’s hair and tugging, he whispered: „Congratulations. Shouldn’t you be elsewhere?“

For a second, Taehyung ceased his actions and pulled away, his frowned face looking right back at Jungkook, and there was something upsettingly carnal in his eyes. Something that didn’t take too long to make its way out, for after a scoff fell from his lips, Taehyung was back on Jungkook’s neck, now biting, and it didn’t fail to tear a ruined cry from Jungkook’s throat.

„Ah- mnh, yes, fuck yes,“ Jungkook pleaded, mouth still stretched in a smirk he forgot he was wearing, and bucked his hips up to meet Taehyung’s. As much as Jungkook enjoyed getting his neck totaled, he was hoping for a kiss too, and started nuzzling his chin into Taehyung’s cheek in a wordless plea.

Taehyung must have predicted his intent and immediately grabbed him by the jaw, smashing their lips together with striking hunger, and God, Jungkook was ready to be eaten up. He automatically threw his hands around Taehyung’s neck to get to kiss him better, tongue swiping over Taehyung’s lower lip, only to be gotten back at by a nip anything but gentle. He hissed, shortly followed by a gasp, but Taehyung paid no mind and went back to his mouth, tongue slipping inside. He missed it so much, missed the force Taehyung kissed with, missed the unbridled want that chased him forward, one that was, seemingly, part and parcel of him.

Jungkook pushed forward in a motion desperate for more contact, though they were already as close as they could, feeling the need of the other, and Taehyung momentarily pulled away to gasp right into Jungkook’s mouth.

„Fuck, the shit you do to me,“ he panted as he rolled his hips into Jungkook’s, effectively giving the younger a minute blackout when their cocks rubbed just right, „I missed you, I fucking missed this ass-“

„Why didn’t you-“ Jungkook attempted to get an explanation, interrupted by his own moan upon another roll of Taehyung’s hips.

„Becaue,“ Taehyung breathed an answer before the question was complete, his lips now below Jungkook’s, swallowing his whines, „it was a part of my motivation.“

„How dramatic,“ Jungkook panned, and hooked his legs around Taehyung’s waist, „I hope that me losing my mind was worth it.“

Taehyung chuckled, moving his hand from Jungkook’s ass to his thigh, and hummed right into his ear: „You tell me that when I fuck your brains out.“

The words sent an eager twitch to Jungkook’s cock, pulsing in his jeans with an annoying intensity, so much he instantly pushed Taehyung away – he needed to take them off first.

„But, I mean,“ Taehyung grumbled as he cast his gaze on Jungkook and licked his lips in the process, savoring how deliciously fucked out Jungkook was looking already, „it was hard, shit, do you have an idea how hard it was for me to not be able to fuck you? When I saw you looking so desperate, practically begging to get banged the first second we are alone?“

Jungkook leaked a pained groan at that, nodding feverously. If he only knew it was like that, shit, if he was sure that Taehyung was having so hard of a time holding back, he’d tease the fuck out of him.

„Get me the fuck out of these,“ Jungkook whined and gestured towards his pants, and it took Taehyung all of a second to start fiddling with the zipper. Jungkook, out of focus, ran his hand somewhere along Taehyung’s neck and shoulder, mind stopping at the silky, bronze skin, and suddenly got a craving.

Right at the moment that Taehyung freed Jungkook’s cock from his pants, Jungkook latched his lips to Taehyung’s skin, right to the point where his neck and shoulder met. He earned a weary, low chuckle from Taehyung at that, and decided to turn up the heat with a small bite and a suck. That earned a moan from Taehyung so low and loud, that Jungkook felt a drop of precum slide down his cock, and he shivered upon the cool sensation.

„Hm- ah, stop, ah,“ Taehyung panted, and Jungkook would swear he’s never heard Taehyung’s voice so shivery, so broken, this out of control. He, precisely because of this, sucked harder, and a response to that was Taehyung sliding his hand down Jungkook’s pants to grab his ass properly, without layers of clothing. There was urgency and fire, uncontrolable need from building up and blocking the desire for a time, and at this point, they were ready to devour each other. They wanted each other, hard and fast and filthy, burning with something they could no longer push back, because they couldn’t get enough of the other. Jungkook could die from this feeling, from absorbing the sheer want that Taehyung was emitting. He could die the second Taehyung pulled away a little and granted him a view of himself, still wearing those god forsaken white breeches, and the outline of his cock came to sight, because fuck, that was all his doing. Taehyung was losing it because of him, and he’d be damned if Taehyung being this greedy and rough wasn’t the best Taehyung.

„Fuck, turn around, I want to eat your ass,“ Taehyung managed to get out, voice raspy from the strain and dryness in his throat, and Jungkook obeyed without a second of hesitance. He might or might have not spent extra time cleaning up yesterday and today morning. Just because. Just in case. Just because he hoped exactly for this, just because as much as he would not admit it, he hoped Taehyung would take him today, and still, he could not fucking believe it.

As he bent over the desk, mind flashing to the first time this happened, to how back then, he wasn’t sure if it one was a one time thing, but to how damn well he got fucked, he chuckled airily. Still getting fucked good, that was for sure.

Taehyung wasted no time pulling Jungkook’s pants down, rough in his motions, and had his hands on the supple cheeks of Jungkook’s ass instantly. Taehyung took his time incosiderately grabbing them first, squeeizing in a bruising hold, one that almost got Jungkook drooling.

„Shit, I fucking missed this,“ Taehyung whined, voice nearly tearful, and he slipped a hum of absolute delight when he shoved his face between Jungkook’s cheeks, tongue pressing against his rim.

„Fu- ah, fuck, fuck!“  Jungkook’s words became reduced to one single word, gasps leaving his lips in a steady string, as finally he was satiated enough when Taehyung’s tongue pushed inside, accompanied by a content moan from Taehyung. Unbelievable, Jungkook thought as he bit his fist for the millionth time that day, thighs quivering when he felt Taehyung’s tongue slide against his walls, soft and warm. His head was somewhere away, not really present, yet at the same time, he was so preceptive to the sensory input that he might’ve just blown up.

Momentarily, Taehyung pulled his tongue out, only to lick flat across Jungkook’s hole and suck lightly, then moving to the side and granting a bite to one of the cheeks. After he earned a hiss from Jungkook, a satisfied smirk spread on his face, and he went back to his work.

At this point, Jungkook decided to completely disregard his cock, hanging heavy and full between his legs, with consistent strings of precum dripping down the head and making a mess around him. After all, he’s been wet pretty much since before Taehyung’s rounds, but with the way all of the blood in his body pulsed in his cock, he was getting a little lightheaded. But he wouldn’t complain, fuck, he wouldn’t.

„Don’t pass out on me,“ Taehyung’s voice echoed from his backside, and Jungkook tentatively turned around to get a good look on his face, „you’ve got a cock to take, Jeon.“

With a drowsy nod, eyes glassy and unfocused, he scrambled back up on his elbows with the little strength he had. He was really grateful Taehyung stopped his favorite fucking action in the world early enough, because his legs were starting to shake, and not because of the strain. He knew an approaching orgasm when he felt one. Damn, was he that edged?

Seconds after Taehyung stood up, his lips were back on Jungkook’s, but just shortly, just for a few moments, for the in the next, Taehyung had his hand on Jungkook’s thigh and was pushing his leg up to get access.

„Um,“ Jungkook voiced out, ready to complain about the lack of lube and about the fact that he will not be able to survive Taehyung’s unreasonably thick cock with spit alone, when he heard the click of a cap being opened. He looked down questioningly, and let out a snort when he saw a travel-sized bottle of aloe lube in Taehyung’s hand, coating his fingers.

„You knew exactly what you were doing, huh,“ Jungkook shook his head, hissing when the cool substance first came to contact with his hole. Immediatey afterwards, he threw his head back as a delicious moan left his throat, for Taehyung pushed two fingers in, yet again, harsh and impatient. Fuck, Jungkook loved this.

„Maybe,“ Taehyung hummed, for now managing to look only mildly interested, „maybe I was planning to fuck someone else, who knows?“

Alright, Jungkook knew Taehyung was teasing. He knew that the most Taehyung would do was fuck Jimin, which would probably inevitable come right after this, but Jungkook’s head snapped forward anyway, a displeased frown on his face. His expression turned comical when he tried to keep a frowning face, for Taehyung was doing marvellous things to his prostate, and his eyebrows twitched and mouth quivered in some sort of a mix of desperation and defiance.

„You know,“ Taehyung sighed, and Jungkook felt the arrival of the teasing, annoying as fuck persona that Taehyung sometimes slipped into, one that would edge and tease Jungkook until he was pleading with tears in his eyes, „maybe Hyejin. To make her go easy on me, huh?“

At the last words, Taehyung smirked, eyes locking right on Jungkook’s face, and he curved his fingers especially deeply, shattering all of Jungkook’s attempts. His face fell apart in desperation, muscles stiffening as they tried not to squirm. With tears now welling up under the pretty fans of Jungkook’s lashes, Taehyung could’ve stopped, but didn’t.

„I heard she bangs wild as fuck,“ Taehyung said, leaning forward. He steadied the trembling Jungkook on the table with a firm hand on his waist, all while speeding up the motions of his hand, yet remaining so deliberate and well-aimed.  He pulled out for a second, stopping right at the rim and paused, pads of his fingers pressed against Jungkook’s hole. Taehyung chuckled wearily, smacking his lips at the way Jungkook clenched and fluttered around nothing, and mercifully pushed back it. Jungkook started pawing at the side of the table, knuckles white and eyes rolling back, as Taehyung ran over his prostate with motions firm but smooth, slowing down to press right into the bundle, agonizingly slow and hard, until Jungkook’s toes were curling.

„N-no,“ Jungkook managed to pant through the spasm that took over him, entire body shaking with a wave of orgasm coming for him slowly but surely. He wasn’t sure what exactly he uttered the no for, perhaps for Taehyung to shut the fuck up about one Hyejin, or maybe to stop whatever the hell he was doing because Jungkook knew he would cum within the next few seconds. He just pleaded, shook his head, but nodded immediately afterwards, and whined.

His cock kept oozing pearls of precum, pooling on his stomach where it laid unnoticed, red and shiny and begging to be touched, twitching with every single hit to Jungkook’s prostate, but there was practically nothing he could do about it, for the little he managed with the rigor his body was in, he could only let tears slide from his eyes and moans fall from his lips.

„Oh yeah,“ Taehyung hummed, speeding up yet again, „what if I did that, hm? Would be fun.“

Another shake of Jungkook’s head, feeble and desperate, followed by a sound eerily resembling a sob. His cock jumped again, a glistening droplet sliding onto Jungkook’s shirt, and when a tremor hit Jungkook’s body, causing his asshole to clench around Taehyung’s fingers, it was evidently enough for Taehyung to finally give in.

„Are you going to cum, baby?“

Fuck, Jungkook was pretty sure he blacked out for a second there. Not only Taehyung calling him baby was an occurence more rare than Taehyung complimenting his riding, it was also the silky tone of Taehyung’s voice, deliciously raspy and low, and too fucking seductive for his own good, so yes, Jungkook nodded wildly, he was going to fucking cum if this goes on any longer.

Taehyung’s lips grazed Jungkook’s ear once again, a whisper coming in: „You know I wouldn’t do that. You know no one takes my cock like you.“

He said it quietly, brought to Jungkook’s ear like a secret, airy and soft, as if no one else should hear it, even when no one was there to listen in the first place.

„I’m-I-, ah-“  Jungkook tried to muster, but couldn’t, couldn’t speak, hell, he could barely breathe with how his stomach tighetned and bent him forward, his orgasm clawing at his insides, balancing right on the tip of coming.

„Are you?“ Taehyung asked again with tone unexpectedly stern, and Jungkook almost missed that Taehyung slipped a third finger in, now deliciously pushing his walls apart, putting pressure into the tender muscle and running over all the sensitive places.

„Ye-yes, yes, hng- yes, Taehyung-“ Jungkook blabbered out, a pathetic little “mnh-“ stuck in his throat when Taehyung started ramming deeper, stabbing into his prostate and fucking him open on his fingers harder, and it was  so fucking good he found himself trembling, so, so fucking close.

„Fuck, go on then,“ Taehyung growled, „go on, cum for me, and for me only.“

Maybe it was Taehyung’s voice, strikingly deep, maybe the authority in it. Maybe it was the way he urged Jungkook to come, or maybe the way he claimed ownership of Jungkook’s orgasm, because fuck, that was so damn hot. Maybe it was a combination of all, Jungkook wasn’t sure, but the force his orgasm took him with was absolutely brutal. Left him voiceless, mouth unhinged. He felt the violent, rhythmical throbs of his cock bouncing on his stomach, and he momentarily went cross-eyed as he spurted all over his belly. In a haze, he managed to register the warm spray of it landing a drop right below his chin.

It took him a second. Maybe more. And after some time, indefinite amout of time he spent trying to catch his breath and savour every single bit of the tingle and the shiver his orgasm left him with, his vision finally cleared, lungs opened, and he sucked in a breath as he looked at Taehyung.

„Fucking hell,“ Jungkook panted, at a loss of words, the only sound in the room his labored breaths. He fixated his eyes on Taehyung, and for a second he wanted to punch him in that ridiculously beautiful face, because that fucker was looking way too proud of himself.

Way too proud of himself, and way, way too horny. Jungkook knew this face. Jungkook knew this face with blown pupils and red, glistening lips, with sweat beads at the hairline, with untameable hunger and lust hazing all of his mind and reflecting in his eyes. It was that kind of a face that Taehyung had when he was holding on to the last bits of his self control, when he was still trying to hold back, a fairly short amount of time before he bends Jungkook over and rails his ass to oblivion.

„Turn the fuck around,“ Taehyung ordered, eyes dark and hazed, „‘m going to fuck you so hard I’ll be carrying you back.“

Jungkook involuntarily slipped a groan, a twinge of sickening arousal hitting him in the stomach. Shit, it came sooner than Jungkook expected – the tone in Taehyung‘s voice, commanding and impatient, and Jungkook’s cock immediately bobbed in interest. It was Taehyung‘s rough and inconsiderate side waking up, coming to life and ready to tear Jungkook apart. And fuck, was he here for it. He loved this, loved it when Taehyung was like this, when he was too horny to know about himself and wanting nothing but Jungkook.

None too sure on his legs, Jungkook wobbled in an attempt to turn around. He winced as he felt the touch of cold air on his exposed backside, chilly and rushing goosebumps over his skin when the air hit his inner thighs and ass, wet with a mixture of lube and anything Jungkook’s managed to leak, dripping down his thighs in sticky drops.

„God, if I wasn’t so fucking hard, I’d eat your ass again,“ Taehyung grumbled from behind. On a habit, Jungkook turned around to get a view when he heard the familiar clinking of a belt, and he couldn’t contain the pained expression that slipped on his face once Taehyung pulled his pants down. „Shit, look how messy- you have no idea how much I want you-“

On the flimsy material of Taehyung’s light grey underwear, Jungkook could clearly see the wet spots of precum, darkening the material, and he felt his mouth salivate on an instant. Taehyung’s cock strained against the cloth, rock hard and threaded with veins, the head peaking out from the hem of the underwear, blazing red compared to his soft, bronzy skin. Jungkook took in an inhale, cold and quick, when right before his eyes, a thick drop of precum pearled in the slit of Taehyung’s cock, lazily sliding down his girth once he completely pulled his underwear out of the way.

„I swear, you just keep getting bigger,“ Jungkook whimpered with a faux complaint in his voice, when truly he was holding it together just barely, just enough to not suck Taehyung dry at the spot. It was tempting, really, and he smacked his lips wishfully when Taehyung gingerly wrapped his fingers around his cock and delivered a few drops of lube right on.

And as much as Jungkook was getting a kick out of watching Taehyung run his pretty hand along his cock, snagging on the head ever so often and thoroughly spreading the lube, he was getting impatient here. After all, it’s been a good fucking while of his sexual fantasies consisting of Taehyung’s cock rearranging his guts.

„Oh my- are you gonna fuck me or not?“ he snapped, turning bratty all of a sudden. He didn’t miss the way Taehyung’s lips twitched in a hiss, only to fall apart in a silent moan, and when his previously closed eyes opened, Jungkook swore he almost came on the spot.

There was no describing it. There was just something about Taehyung, unbearably hot, almost annoying, to the point of Jungkook not being sure what to do with attention from such a person.

„You bet I’m gonna fuck you,“ Taehyung replied, now with the firmness in his voice dissipating and leaving him panting, „so, so hard-, God-“

With a violent flip and a push, Jungkook found himself shoved onto the table, chin hitting the wooden surface. He grimaced, only for the face he pulled to turn into an expression of bliss, unmasked and unhinged bliss, as he felt the tip of Taehyung’s cock push against his hole. He hissed at the cold feeling, yet shut up immediately as he felt himself stretch open, felt the head snag on his rim, and he found himself crossing the line to where his dignity existed no more.

„Fuck, fuck, Taehyung, yes- God, yes-“ Jungkook stammered, trying to muster up words around his labored breaths and around the suffocating feeling of satisfaction when Taehyung pushed in deeper, accompanied by a groan of his own. Scrunching up his eyebrows, Jungkook let out a gasp as Taehyung pushed past his prostate, slowly and torturously, and fuck, he’s never felt this full before.

„Yes, nngh- fuck, finally-“ Jungkook slipped with a grunt caught in his throat, only for Taehyung to chuckle weakly and lean forward, as a result shoving his cock deeper, and dug his teeth right into Jungkook’s shoulder.

„Fuck me, fuck me- Taehyung, please, I need you- right now, fuck-“ Jungkook’s words became reduced to a blabber full of pleas, one that Taehyung could barely react to, and right into the bite mark he made on Jungkook’s shoulder, he whispered: „Be patient.“

„Nah, fuck that,“ Jungkook managed to find it in him to bite back, and pushed back to grind his ass into Taehyung’s cock, eyes rolling back into his head upon feeling how fucking deep Taehyung was in him. „Been patient enough, now fuck me, just- ruin me, until I’m dripping on your cock-“

„What a filthy mouth you’ve got there,“ Taehyung noted, sliding his hands down Jungkook’s slender waist to stop them at the hips in an iron grip, „been spending too much time with Jimin, huh?“

„What, ah- fuck!“ Jungkook began, stopped by Taehyung pulling out, gliding past his rim only to slam right back, „what else could I do- shit, yeah, like that- fuck-“

„What, couldn’t handle not getting fucked?“ Taehyung rasped, and slammed his hips forward in a quickening pace, making sure to pound Jungkook’s prostate properly every time, almost making him jump up on the table. He felt the thick press against his walls, pushing him open and rubbing that spot in him just right, way behind it, too, so deliciously deep in him it was boiling the words out of his head.

„Y-yeah,“ Jungkook managed to gasp through the increasingly quickening thrusts, mouth falling open when Taehyung clawed down his waist yet again to get a better hold, and maybe to mark him, who knows. A roughness crept into Taehyung’s motion, gradually growing stronger, and Jungkook was worried his tongue might be hanging out of his mouth. „Needed- fuck, needed-“

„Ah, shit- yeah, me too, baby,“ Taehyung panted and rammed his hips forward, digging himself deeper and faster, drowning in the sounds of Jungkook’s begging. Jungkook knew Taehyung loved it, fuck, he knew Taehyung’s grip, knew the way his body moved, he could practically see the way Taehyung had his head thrown back and eyebrows scrunched, muttering curses.

„Missed this tight ass of yours, fucking shit- missed all of this.“

And all Jungkook could do was nod to it and hold on to his dear life as Taehyung’s grip on his hips fastened, and the pace of Taehyung’s thrusts picked up.

„Harder, come on- fuck me harder, Taehyung,“ whines rolled of Jungkook’s tongue in something so hardly coherent, but this was Taehyung, and Taehyung learned to understand Jungkook’s babble when he was getting fucked so damn good he could barely stand, let alone speak. And so he complied, because Taehyung was amazing like that. Because Taehyung was horny like that, and couldn’t control himself, could never control himself once he had one Jeon fucking Jungkook bent over and open all for him. And so he didn’t, didn’t even try to. There was not a hint of care or self control, and Taehyung just went. Pulled out, head spinning at the way Jungkook’s sopping asshole was trying to suck him back in, clenching in desperation, and somewhere in the background, Jungkook mewled. Thrusting back in, Taehyung intesified that mewl, but didn’t respond to it, didn’t give Jungkook a moment to adjust to the slide of his cock, just fucking him, using him. So, so impatient, so gone.

„Hngh- Jesus fuck, Taeh- fuck, yeah- right there, there-“ Jungkook writhed in Taehyung’s hold, eyes somewhere between rolling back and squeezed shut. With zero control over his mimics, Jungkook felt a drop of spit slide down his cheek onto the table.

Jungkook wished Taehyung would give him some sort of a break and slow his thrusts down a little – to let him pause from shaking and not being able to catch his breath, but he couldn’t. Once Taehyung was in the zone, there was no stopping him, Jungkook knew that. He knew that all he could do was l stay down, take his cock like the sorry whore he felt like, and plead for more. And he always did.

For a moment, Taehyung let his head hang, sweat dripping from his chin,and took the time to marvel at the way Jungkook’s ass swallowed him up, letting his cock slide in with such ease yet hugging so tight. Jungkook felt it too, as much as it surprised him, felt the throb against his insides, felt the head get stuck on the rim here and there, reliably getting a whine from him.

„You’re always so tight, fuck,“ Taehyung grunted with his head thrown forward, straining at the waist, and Jungkook could only mumble an incomprehensible mix of sounds, unable to stop quivering from the constant bolts of pleasure shooting up his spine, reaching every single bit of his body, all the way to his fingertips and spreading through his palms. It felt so fucking good it was ridiculous. He would laugh, if he could as much as breathe properly. „Always take cock so fucking well, like it so rough-“

As Jungkook mused whether he will cum again, he sensed the orgasm tearing at Taehyung rather than him. He’s had Taehyung’s cock in him enough times to know what it feels like when Taehyung is coming, and the aura of it was unmistakeable. First, Taehyung always grabbed onto something harder. Jungkook’s hair, ass, thighs, at times his cock, anything, really. This time, it was by the hips, right where Jungkook’s body bent, and it made Jungkook hiss in both pain and anticipation. The grip tightened, pinching the tender skin in a bruising hold. Then, Taehyung would always slow down a little, making his thrusts deeper – for at this point, Jungkook was fucked out dumb, and the change of pace upset him enough to push back and start clenching his hole around Taehyung. And that was what tumbled him over, just like now, when Jungkook whined upon the burn subsiding, and started rocking back for Taehyung to fuck him better.

Then came the announcement.

“Fuck- I’m close, fuck-“

Ever so useless, the announcement. Because at this point Jungkook knew Taehyung was coming, but he wanted to act like he didn’t, to get fucked harder in the last few moments, and he carried on with the squeezing, wanting to milk Taehyung’s cock dry.

“Jesus- fuck, I’m gonna-“ Taehyung heaved as he made the decision to quicken the pace yet again, “gonna fill you up, fill that tight ass up-“

“Oh my- yes, please, inside-“ Jungkook managed to mumble into the table, though he wasn’t sure it could be heard through the deluge of the rhythmic slapping of skin. He liked talking; Taehyung was usually only a talker when it got too wild, so Jungkook never pushed it. But he loved hearing it, loved hearing the praise and the filth, just like now, when Taehyung made sure to let him know. Jungkook earnestly pushed back to meet Taehyung’s thrusts, to feel him come.

And hell, he felt it. The pace dwindled down, Taehyung pushing forward with all his might and burying his cock inside Jungkook, hips flush with the supple curve of Jungkook’s ass, cherry red from the repeated impact on it. Holding on to dear life, Jungkook drew blood from his lip as he bit it, feeling Taehyung’s grip around his hip close with no mercy and no care. And shit, when Taehyung came, their voices melted together, for Jungkook couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut and let out a blissful groan when Taehyung’s cock pulsed in him, followed by the hot spurt of cum spilling over his walls.

“Shit, shit- agh, Jungkook-“ Taehyung got out with no breath, choked back and stuck in his own orgasm, and it got Jungkook shivering even harder. Even more seldom than baby did Taehyung call him Jungkook.

In a moment of silence, they remained unmoving. As much as Jungkook wanted to jump out of his body, because not coming while taking cock wasn’t something he signed up for, but he stayed still. Just for a second, just to let Taehyung recollect himself. The dry, heavy breaths from behind only signed for how spent Taehyung was, so Jungkook panted into the table, trying not to pay attention to his cock, hanging hot and swollen and hard between his legs still. It twitched and sprang upon every single sensation, sticky and wet with incessant streams of precum, and for a moment Jungkook had to resist wrapping his hand around it.

„Jeon,“ Taehyung echoed from the back, voice rough from the wheezy and quick breaths, „come on, come up-“

 Since he was not sure when or where he was, all Jungkook gave to Taehyung as an answer was a whine and a sniffle.

„Come on,“ Taehyung repeated, and Jungkook was pissed and distressed to find Taehyung’s cock slip out, leaving him cold and empty. A load of cum flooded out of him, running down his thighs in a mess of thick drops, warmed by his body, and as unpleasant it was, he liked it. Liked being pumped full and left marked, left used.  

He frowned, unsure what exactly Taehyung wanted, but turned around nevertheless. And

before he had all five together, Taehyung had him by the hips and twisted around, and he questioningly tilted his head at his trainer. He didn’t really know what he was supposed to do, all he knew was that he wanted Taehyung’s cock up in him again.

„Come up here,“ Taehyung panted with hooded eyes and voice muffled, and he made grabby hands for Jungkook as he sat on the table. If Jungkook didn’t forget himself, staring at Taehyung’s long cock resting up on his stomach, hard again, deliciously glistening and threaded with veins, maybe he would react right away. It took Taehyung a few more calls of his name to get Jungkook to come back to reality.

„Fuck, what-“ Jungkook smacked his lips, looking up at Taehyung in hope, and whined into his shoulder when he leaned in.

„Ride me,“ Taehyung breathed out and managed to pull the stumbling Jungkook up on the table with him, paying little to no mind to the table’s ability to hold them both, „fucking ride me, sit on my cock, baby.“

It took Jungkook a good second to hit. For a moment, he just straddled Taehyung, shivering with pleasure as his cock rubbed against Taehyung’s just right, slick in the motion, and he momentarily squeezed his eyes as the head snagged against Taehyung’s. He wasn’t sure what to point his mind to, where to direct his senses first, whether to the mind-numbing friction or what Taehyung just said. He slipped a whiny breath, helplessly rubbing his cock up Taehyung’s stomach, smearing precum on his thighs in a sticky mess, and a few more moments later, it finally hit.

„Wh-what,“ Jungkook got out helplessly, eyes looking at Taehyung almost reverently, and then his fucked out mind finally managed to register the message properly. „Taehyung-“

„Yeah, Jeon, fuck-“ Taehyung nodded, lips pressed into a line as he stiffly grabbed Jungkook’s ass and pressed him closer to push against his cock better, earning a hiss for himself, „just like you wanted, ride me until you come undone on my cock.“

„God, yes, yes- fuck, Taehyung-“ it was in a haste, Jungkook didn’t know what to do with himself first, but decided it would probably be a nifty idea to lift himself up so Taehyung could line his cock up with him. He wasn’t sure what to expect, but he knew it would probably hurt just a bit.

Taehyung reached forward to line his cock up with Jungkook’s hole, and for a second Jungkook just stared.

„Go on, Jeon,“ Taehyung jerked his head approvingly, a smirk appearing on his face, „show me what you got.“

With Taehyung’s hand gripping him by the waist to guide him down, Jungkook started sinking down on his cock.

Yeah, it fucking burned. Burned with such intensity, though Jungkook wasn’t sure if it was entirely bad, because there was an absolute overload of senses, everything felt more intense as he took Taehyung’s cock with all of his weight, feeling his rim being pushed appart by the pulsing girth. The slide of it was enhanced by the filthy mixture of lube and cum sopping around Jungkook’s asshole, and it was too much, it was too intense, and it was too, too fucking good.

„Fuck, mm- oh God yes, Taehyung, fuck,“ Jungkook lost the control of his vocabulary, his mind filled with nothing but absolute pleasure at this point as Taehyung’s cock kept diving deeper and deeper into his cum filled ass until it was too much to handle, but he kept going down nevertheless. He kept going, and it was when Taehyung gasped around Jungkook’s lips that he decided to bite the bullet, man up, and he slammed himself all the way down.

First thing to happen from that was that they screamed. In unison, a loud gasp escaped both of them, and Jungkook was pretty sure this was the loudest he’d ever heard Taehyung react. After this small realization, his senses came back to him, and he let out somewhat of a sob.

„Oh my- shit, fuck, so deep-“ he managed to stutter out, bent forward, face trembling in uncertainty over whether it wanted to cry or giggle, because it was too much to percieve, and too good to be true.

„Fuck, that felt good,“ Taehyung groaned, back to that low voice of his, veiled by an absolute loss of control, and he grabbed Jungkook by the hips. „Come on-“

„Wait, wait,“ Jungkook panted out, recollecting himself, „shit, you’re fucking huge, Taehyung. Fuck.“

„Heard that a few times before,“ Taehyung grinned crookedly, amused at the commentary that Jungkook always made sure to provide him with. His hand flew up to run over the curve of Jungkook’s lower back, sliding up in the dip in his spine, slick with drops of sweat. For a second, Taehyung got caught staring, and his hand snaked over Jungkook’s shoulder to his neck, slid up his face, until it finally stopped at his cheek, flushed hot.

„Fuck, you’re pretty, Jeon.“ Taehyung paused, and when he decided there was enough tenderness, his hand came back down to deriver a burning slap to Jungkook’s ass. „Come on, take my cock all nice, like you always do.“

Jungkook slipped a quiet purr at the way Taehyung encouraged him, kneading his sides and supple cheeks of his ass, dangerously close to where his cock entered Jungkook’s body, and at the fact that he called him pretty, something so rarely heard from him. Maybe the rush of affection was what made Jungkook realize the head of his cock was dark red at this point, forgotten but continuously pumped with blood, and it occurred to him that maybe this was why he was so out of it.

Nothing to lose, he thought, as his sight flashed across Taehyung’s face, bearing that same expression, the one where he was tiptoeing around complete loss of control. And as tempting as Taehyung losing self control and fucking Jungkook too hard for the second time sounded, he decided to do a favor for both of them. And so he lifted himself up, hissing at the wonderful hot stretch of his rim, and slammed himself right back down.

„Shit!“ he leaked instantly, but being the hero he was, repeated the motion right away.

It was priceless. It was priceless how Taehyung’s mouth fell open and his eyebrows furrowed together, how pleasure was written in every single part of his face, from his half lidded eyes to the wrinkle in his smile line that popped up when his lips twitched, and Jungkook wasn’t sure who was fucking who at this point.

Jungkook leaked a high pitched cry, no longer in the control of his voice, and let his mind slip away to the only thing he could feel – how stupidly huge and deep Taehyung was inside of him. It was addicting, the way Taehyung’s cock moved inside of him, and Jungkook started slamming down faster, harder, until his thighs were burning and his stomach curling and pooling with heat, with the delicious tightness coming from the repeated stabs to his prostate, completely wrecked and fucked up by now.

“Fuck, yes- like that, Jeon- fuck,” Taehyung grunted, mouth agape, “might’ve underestimated you a little- fuck- mmh, that felt good- you’re good, God, you’re so fucking good-“

Jungkook wasn’t sure what was at fault – maybe the eight inch cock he was slamming himself on with all of his weight, hitting his prostate just right every single time, or the way Taehyung praised him, the way Taehyung’s voice kept getting hazier with every minute, raspy with pure arousal and pleasure, and fuck, the way Taehyung voiced it out. He wasn’t sure what was at fault, but his orgasm took him by surprise, thrashing him down like wave and tearing him off his legs, and he lost himself in somewhat of a gasp as his cock spasmed and pulsed, shooting hot spurts between their bodies.

He shivered, body falling back, only supported by Taehyung’s arm around his waist. Momentarily, he lost his vision to a blackout from an orgasm that powerful, and so he sat, stilling for a while. He shivered from waist down, a painful sting of sensitivity whipping over his cock, and squeezed his eyes momentarily to breathe through.

 “Good boy,” Taehyung mumbled, drawing circles on Jungkook’s skin. He opened his eyes, locking them with Taehyung’s for a second, and a shiver ran down Jungkook’s body, amplifying the tingle of the orgasm, now wearing off.

And maybe it was the high from his orgasm, or just gratitude, but the second he gained breath, yet still trembling with his sight blurred, he lifted himself on his knees and started bouncing on Taehyung’s cock like it would save his life.

Did it hurt? Fuck yes. It hurt so good, Jungkook practically didn’t hear himself whining and crying out anymore, because he didn’t even get over his orgasm before putting himself right into brutal overstimulation, but shit. Taehyung’s face was worth everything. Every. Fucking. Thing.

“Jeon, Jeon, slow down- fuck, slow-“ Taehyung’s voice got knocked out of his lungs as he tried to say something, for Jungkook started going fast, faster than Taehyung could control, yet still letting his tight walls squeeze and hug. Taehyung pawed at Jungkook’s hips half-heartedly, almost as if telling him to slow down, when he truly didn’t want him to.

“Fuck, I’ll cum, slow- Jeon, oh God yes-“ Taehyung’s voice suddenly sounded an octave higher, wrecked with the sensory overload, and Jungkook managed to slip a grin through his agonized face when he felt Taehyung’s cock throb inside of him, pulling tight. Tentative, he started alternating between up and down to back and forth, mixing it up, curling and bending Taehyung’s cock in him in all the right ways, so much as to push an unspilled sob on his tongue.

“Jesus, yes- mnh, yeah, I’m- oh, fuck,” Taehyung managed, with so little he actually could say with the lack of breath in his voice, and this time, still not entirely over the blistering pleasure tearing at his lower body and making his calves quiver uncontrollably, Jungkook decided to be the talker just for this one time.

“Yeah, come on, cum inside me,” Jungkook breathed into Taehyung’s mouth, “fill me up, fuck me up, Taehyung, all for me, until I’m fucking dripping.”

A tremor whacked Taehyung’s body, and Jungkook felt himself involuntarily clench and unclench around his cock, his body going into a irregular spasm from the stimulation. Jungkook didn’t even realize how hard Taehyung was squeezing his ass until this very moment, until Taehyung came with a lewd and obscene moan, tumbling from his throat in a sound so foreign to him, but so, so fucking hot. It was like music, really.

For second, Jungkook blacked out again, from nothing but sheer pleasure, drooling as he felt Taehyung’s cock twitch inside of him, the warmth of his release pooling over his insides so deliriously familiar, and fuck, accomplishing, because he did that. He made Taehyung cum so hard he was still squeezing his ass, with a hold so unforgiving it was painful. A shiver beat through Jungkook’s body as he felt Taehyung still pulsate inside of him, shooting final shots, adding to the filth already inside.  Dewy-eyed, he reached forward to run his fingers through Taehyung’s damp hair, tugging and pulling his head forward from where it was still thrown back in the post-orgasmic blackout.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Taehyung sounded finally, his voice ruined through and through, and he opened his eyes to look at Jungkook. Hand finally releasing the bruising grip on Jungkook’s ass, Taehyung now softly slid his hands along Jungkook’s thighs, still quietly trembling with spikes of pleasure and overstimulation.

“Don’t you wish you let me do this sooner?” Jungkook decided to be petty, a playful tone tugging on his voice, but yelped when Taehyung came back to himself, a firm smack on Jungkook’s ass being an evidence of it.

“Fuck, you bet,” Taehyung sighed, sounding exhausted but completely blown, too, “God, you were made to take cock. My cock.”

“Yours,” Jungkook said breathlessly, with no hesitation, because yes, he couldn’t argue with that, he doubted anyone could fuck him the way Taehyung could. No one had this kind of energy, this kind of power in him. No one could fire him up like Taehyung could. Sure, it was a different story when he watched Jimin and Taehyung get it on, going so hard Jungkook could come just from watching, and sure, folding Jimin in half and fucking him into the door until he was unable to stand was an experience on its own.

But Taehyung had something Jungkook had never encountered before, and was never able to quite put his finger on it, but it was clear, in a way – Taehyung was magnetizing from head to toe, with the bite of a rude charm that Jungkook couldn’t help but find unbearably hot.

“Thought you said you’d fuck me,” Jungkook joked, and Taehyung didn’t disappoint when he granted Jungkook with another slap, this time landing on his thighs, served as a response to his remark.

“Watch your mouth or I’ll remind you how I had you begging before,” Taehyung said threateningly, raising an eyebrow, and if effectively made Jungkook shut up. Not that he wouldn’t want to get fucked again, because he did, and God, he would, but as of now, he was pretty sure his legs gave up their function.

“I don’t think I can walk,” Jungkook sighed as he gently pushed himself up, thighs trembling and aching, and a displeased huff left his lips when he felt Taehyung’s softening cock pull out, followed by a dose of cum dripping right back on it. Taehyung grimaced.

“Nasty,” he commented and attempted to push Jungkook off, only to get a not-so-gentle nudge in the shoulder.

“It’s yours, dumbass,” Jungkook bit back, finally managing to wiggle himself off Taehyung without falling face first off the table. He sat on the side, pulling a face when he felt a combination a mixture of fluids running down his thighs accompanied by an unpleasant pang of sensitivity and pain. He sighed. Why was it so familiar? Shouldn’t be so familiar.

“Don’t you, I don’t know,” Jungkook sighed, turning at Taehyung, who was already standing up and getting dressed, but doing so extremely dizzily and having to grab on the table a few times, “want to get back to the arena? When do they even give out the ribbons and all that?”

Taehyung, unsurprisingly, shrugged.

“The fuck do I know,” he hummed, letting out a deep exhale afterwards. He stretched his arms above his head and sighed, deeply and contentedly. Then, he redirected his gaze to Jungkook.

“This was a one timer,” he said, leaving Jungkook in panic and question for a second, before continuing, “you stay bent over and take it, because if this goes on too frequently, I’ll lose my fucking mind soon. You can’t possibly be good at taking cock from the back and riding it too. ”

Sensing a compliment, Jungkook smirked, pleased, and decided to pull himself together. Considering his options, he started kicking his feet where they hung off the table, thinking whether he should try to stand up on his own. He was quite out of stamina, plus riding Taehyung wasn’t a normal occurrence, so his thighs had something to say about that. And unfortunately, they also did, just when he decided he would be just fine.

He hopped off the table, stumbled, managed to grab Taehyung’s hand, and fell anyway.

“Oh come on,” Taehyung burst out laughing. “Want me to carry you?”

“I’m good,” Jungkook noted as he pulled himself up by the table and finally gained somewhat of a stability on his jelly legs, though he was nothing short of humiliated. A pained groan made its way out of his throat, and he was pretty sure he would be able to do just the bare minimum the next day. Walking didn’t seem too appealing. Fuck, he really shouldn’t love this so much – shouldn’t love getting fucked to the point of his legs giving out. Too tired to get uncomfortable over it anymore, he simply rolled his eyes at the steady trickle down his thighs.

“Here you go,” Taehyung said as he tossed him a pack of tissues as a solution for the matter, leaving Jungkook with one eyebrow raised. Taehyung shrugged.

“What? I know we always make a mess.”

As he cleaned himself up, Jungkook was trying to contain his contentment and keep it internal. Everything went just the way he wanted it, so smooth he almost didn’t believe it wasn’t yet another dream. In all honesty, he expected maybe half of his expectations and deep wishes coming true, but they all did – he got his ass rawed, Taehyung won the show, Hyejin chick didn’t. His mood skyrocketed, and he could physically feel the tension and agitation of the past few weeks falling off, and the parts of his frustration that didn’t leave in either of the mind-blowing orgasms, were wearing off now, drowned out by the afterglow.

They perfunctorily cleaned the table, both of them stumbling like a pair of idiots, and Jungkook couldn’t help but find Taehyung endearing like this. After they finally managed to somehow pull themselves into looking presentable, as hard as that was with brutally obvious sex hair and a map of hickeys and bite marks on both of their necks, and the cum stains on Jungkook’s shirt which had to be covered up by Taehyung’s sponsor jacket, they left the office. The smell of sex in the room was tragically evident, but there was not a window to open, and leaving the door ajar looked like a break in, so they left it closed. Jungkook really, really hoped whoever had anything to do with that room won’t bump into them.

For a second, as they walked out on the hallway, they paused, just soaking it in. Jungkook couldn’t help but crack up when his sight fell upon Taehyung. He looked absolutely deliciously fucked out, hair ruffled and damp, messy where Jungkook ran his hand through it, lips still bitten red, purple and red patches decorating the skin of his neck, and fuck, Jungkook couldn’t stop staring. That was his masterpiece, and he was guiltily proud of it. Also, Taehyung looked absolutely fucking ravishing with hickeys on his neck like that. Marked, bitten. It was practically impossible to not to grin.

“So motivation, huh?” Jungkook decided to dig in, poking Taehyung’s side with his index finger. Taehyung shuddered and grimaced.

“Yeah, and what about it. Told myself that I’ll stay the fuck away from you until I win the thing,” Taehyung shrugged. “Both because you were distracting and I was so busy I didn’t know where my head was, and because it meant I had bigger motivation to win.”

“Am I distracting, huh?” Jungkook smirked, all too pleased to hear words like these. He did feel distracting, though in the bad sense, so to hear it in this context was a lovely surprise.

“Fuck off, you know you are.”

“You still found time to get your dick sucked.”

“Oh, God-“ Taehyung pinched the roof of his nose, rubbing his eyes afterwards, “you mean the day Derby got in first? Yeah, well.”

“You barely talked to me but still-“

“Okay, jeez-” Taehyung interrupted him, his face still partially hidden behind his palm, “I- God, fuck, I’m just gonna say it. I had a dream the night before, don’t fucking laugh.”

“You had…” Jungkook repeated, “a dream.”

“A wet dream, you fucking dumbass.”

“Oh. Oh! With-”

“Yes, you. Shut the fuck up. Anyway,” Taehyung sighed, cringing momentarily, “I woke up all hard and sticky. ‘S what I told you, that I woke up horny. And didn’t have time for anything else. I mean, to my defense, that was true, you know it was.”

Jungkook rolled his eyes, but a smile started playing on his lips. “Aw. Couldn’t last without me? Gave in so easily? Just like that time in the arena? Man, something was up with you that day,” he made sure to add a sweet and teasing tone, almost mocking, because why not have a little fun with Taehyung, right?

“Okay, tone that down, you little shit,” Taehyung bit back, but his lips mimicked the smile on Jungkook’s face, though he was looking ahead. After a moment of silence, a smirk splayed across his face, and he surged forward with some sort of a new energy.

“I hope we get to see Hyejin,” Taehyung cackled, and yanked the collar of his shirt a few times, “want her to see that I not only get the prize, but more ass than her.”

“Oh, really?” Jungkook said, the same spice coming back, and made sure to elbow Taehyung in the shoulder as they walked side by side, “what happened to wanting to fuck her, huh? How did you say it? Would be fun?”

Jungkook thought he heard Taehyung scoff, which turned out to be true, as in the next second, Taehyung had his hand on Jungkook’s chest, pressing him into the wall. Taehyung’s other hand slid right below the younger’s jawline, keeping his head in place, and he leaned in, dangerously close, his lips grazing Jungkook’s ear with shivering breath.

“Keep that attitude, Jeon,” Taehyung growled, “and we’ll see if that bratty mouth of yours can’t be shut up.”

Looking up at Taehyung, Jungkook gulped and nodded, something in his stomach swirling embarrassingly quickly.

“Stop, I’ll get hard,” Jungkook whispered, almost voiceless yet pleading, and gently pushed Taehyung away. He complied and released the hold, stepping away.

“Wouldn’t that be a shame,” Taehyung said airily, provocatively, and with a powerful slap on Jungkook’s ass, the millionth that day, he outran him, heading back to the arena.

Left a little behind, Jungkook remained staring at Taehyung’s back, sighing in ease. For how disastrously Jungkook expected this aspect of the day to go, it surely went a lot better. As he trudged forward, he mindlessly passed a showcase packed with trophies, and didn’t pay much mind to it, until he caught his reflection with his peripheral vision, and it pulled him back in his tracks.

In utter disbelief, he reached his hand to run his fingers over his neck, completely obliterated. Fuck, he assumed he had marks from Taehyung, but this?  He unzipped the top of the jacket, and traced his fingers down the column of his neck to his shoulder, following a path of scattered dark purple patches and bruises, circling shallow marks from where Taehyung sank his teeth in. It looked painful as shit, and he never realized it would be this bad, but hell, he couldn’t stop grinning.

He had no idea Taehyung was like that, didn’t know Taehyung turning possessive and passionate in the right measure could lead to this. He felt strangely owned, in the good way, in the proud way. He always had a weak spot on his neck and for marks altogether. He scarcely remembered the ones Taehyung planted right on his inner thighs the first time they fucked, and the memory sent a shiver down his body.

Scandalised, and definitely satisfied, Jungkook zipped the jacket back up, and with a suppressed smirk and his step a little bit lighter, he set course to the arena, following the fucker that just ruined his neck for a good few weeks.

______________________________

The rest of the show was rather uneventful.

As he should, Taehyung received his well-earned prize, though overshadowed by the immense joy he got out of seeing Hyejin dawdle around with a permanent glare glued to her face. She shook his hand to keep goodwill, though the sincerity of it was absent. Taehyung got quite the kick out of it.

On the next morning, before they trailered out, Jungkook made a trip to Taehyung’s hotel room to return his jacket. Upon opening the door, his sight fell on the image of Taehyung fucking Jimin into the bed. As if it was a thing that normally occurred when you went to drop by to return someone’s belongings, Jungkook wordlessly walked over to the chair beside the mirror, tossed the jacket on it and left. Jimin did invite him to join, but the fact that solely the trip to Taehyung’s room took him quite the dose of pain, huffing and cursing, forced him to refuse the generous offer.

It was only when they arrived to the barn that Jungkook’s nerves started coming back from the fairly peaceful state of mind he was in – and that was only because the reality set back on him again. It’s been a while since he’d ridden Helena, and the time of his arranged lesson time was inevitably getting closer, and sooner than he’d like, he found himself at the cross ties, tightening the girth on a saddle he was quite fucking anxious to sit in.

He knew that now that Taehyung was ready to fully come back to his role as a trainer, Jungkook wouldn’t get away with half as much shit as he did before. Sighing, he tightened the girth a hole tighter, tutting at Helena when she pinned her ears and decided to bite the fuck out of the rope that kept her tied.

“Quit that,” Jungkook reprimanded her half-heartedly and tapped her on the stomach, effectively turning her attention from the rope to his own shoulder, where he got a nice nip. He sighed.

“How’s it going?” Jungkook jerked when a voice sounded from behind him, one that he hasn’t heard in a while. He turned around, a sincere grin on his face even before he did so.

“Hi, Seokjin.”

“Heard Taehyung cleared it,” Seokjin said conversationally, running his hand along Helena’s neck. He stopped the motion and looked at Jungkook. “Heard Hyejin was there.”

“Yeah, it gave him quite a boost,” Jungkook affirmed and circled Helena to get a good stance by hear head. “Apparently she wasn’t supposed to be there, hand me the bridle, would you, so it pissed him off. Made him even more determined, I’d say.”

Slipping an acknowledging nod, Seokjin reached for the requested bridle. “I can see that happening. Listen…” he trailed off, somewhat of a smile on his face. Jungkook threw a questioning look right at Seokjin and waited for him to continue, all while Helena trying to avoid the brutal sways of Helena’s nose as she tossed her head. He managed to bridle her after a few more tries, but Seokjin still hasn’t said a word.

“Yeah?” Jungkook nudged him as he fiddled with the nose band, stretching his arms up for Helena’s head when she, rather convincingly, decided to impersonate a giraffe.

“I was thinking,” Seokjin began. Jungkook snorted quietly. Seokjin dirty looked him, then continued: “That you should stick with Taehyung for as long as he’s available.”

It took a moment for the words to come through, to settle in and finally let Jungkook conjure a thought. He dipped his head to the side, questioning.

He squinted. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying,” Seokjin inhaled, “that Taehyung is a more suitable trainer for you than I am.”

“Oh,” Jungkook piped, for a second unable to answer. He scrunched his eyebrows and stared dumbly, until he was finally able to respond again: “I think you’re a good trainer.”

“Well, shit, me too,” Seokjin rolled his eyes and smirked, “but so is Taehyung. And considering what your focus is, what kind of a horse you have and what kind of dynamic suits you, I think Taehyung is a better choice for you.”

“I- I mean, okay, I just-“ Jungkook wasn’t sure what to say. He vividly remembered Seokjin telling him he won’t give up on him and just use Taehyung as a kickstart, mainly to fix the flatwork. He didn’t expect it to come to this – to Seokjin telling him to keep the alleged kickstart as a regular trainer. To be fair, the ‘kickstart’ was going on for a bit long, though Jungkook never really thought of it, mostly because he could feel himself moving forward. And looking at it from this point of view, he suddenly saw what Seokjin meant.

“You’ve improved under him so much,” Seokjin explained. “You are now able to do shit you wouldn’t even dream about with me. Full courses? Collection? Proper hind engagement? You couldn’t even give her a proper release on a single fence.”

Seokjin paused, looked askance, and as a petty grin painted his face, he mumbled: “Plus, I’m pretty sure switching Taehyung would interfere with your sex life.”

Jungkook nodded sheepishly at the reminder, a furious flush rising to his cheeks right afterwards. With a pinch of shame, he decided to pointedly ignore Seokjin’s other remark, though he had to admit the solid point Seokjin had. It was true that he kept coming to the lessons shaken up for the first month or so, hell, he was swallowing nervousness at the very moment. But he always came from there enriched, always came an information heavier. He learned how to react, how to do precisely what the trainer told him. Learned to put concepts he understood theoretically into practice, and was always shocked and delighted to find out it worked. All because of one loud-mouthed trainer with a proclivity for swearing, sex jokes, and a big dick.

“Yeah, I guess,” he trailed off, tiptoeing around the previously dropped compliment. That earned him a good smack in the shoulder from Seokjin, possibly for the ungratefulness.

“Anyway,” Seokjin sighed, resting his hands on his hips, “that’s all wanted. I mean, you initially started because he was on a break before the Puissance, and now it’s over. So I can see a very stable lesson plan here.”

“Yeah. It’s been a while since I had a proper lesson with him,” Jungkook mused as he checked the girth, hooking his fingers under it and pulling a few times. Helena reacted to this with the desire to bite everything, and with Seokjin being the closest target, he earned a nip.

“Though this bitch hasn’t changed one bit,” Seokjin noted with a displeased frown as he rubbed his arm where Helena pinched him. Jungkook had to let out a laugh. In retrospect, he also finally saw what Taehyung meant when he said that Helena had a wonderful temperament and personality. Spicy, but fun. Difficult, that’s for sure, but entertaining. Always keeping him on his toes, always forcing him to learn and adapt. With the way he looked at it, he was grateful for Helena. It was a rough start, and shit, was that start a long one. But it only kept getting better.

Well, all of this immensely positive mindset would probably be down the drain in a few minutes, considering Helena hasn’t been ridden in a hot minute, but hey. Taehyung would be there. And if Taehyung was there, all could be fixed, all could be overcome, all could be learned. A buck got easier to sit, canter got easier to control, stride got easier to manage.

Jungkook has just now realized the jackpot he scored with a horse like Helena combined with a trainer like Taehyung. They matched perfectly – created a whole that fed him experiences from the both worlds, tying together and giving him a taste of temperament, until he became accustomed. A mindless half smile tugged on the corner of his lips, and after he clicked the strap of his helmet closed, right before he left, he looked at Seokjin.

“You have a lesson now, right?” Seokjin inquired, and stretched his hand to pet Helena again.

“Mh. We’ll see how long I survive,” Jungkook winked, laughing right afterwards, influenced by Seokjin’s contagious giggle that came before.

“You’ll be just fine. Go on, I’ll come watch later.”

Another spark of improvement Jungkook noticed – not only the thought of Seokjin coming over to watch didn’t make him nervous anymore, he also wasn’t opposed to it, because now he felt like watching him wasn’t a downright punishment.

“Alright, then,” Jungkook said, squeezing all of the gratitude he had for Seokjin into one look. Because without Seokjin, there would be no Taehyung. “Wish me luck.”

And with the reins firm in his hand, step sure, and accompanied by the rhythmical clopping of Helena’s hooves behind him, he set course to the arena – ready to face whatever Taehyung brings. Because whatever Taehyung brings, it’s just progress in disguise.