Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The coffee shop isn’t crowded at this time of the afternoon, right after rush hour. 

Yoongi knows this because he spends the better part of his Saturdays sitting at the last table, the one at the very corner. It’s the only one that has a sofa and it’s far enough from the speakers that the playlist the shop plays doesn’t bleed in through his headphones while he works on his laptop.

But today is not a Saturday, it’s a Tuesday, and so the shop is even more deserted, with only a couple of bored staff members chatting quietly behind the counter as the cooks in the kitchens start the doughs for the next morning. 

And today, once Yoongi walks in and looks towards his usual table, he finds it already taken by the person he’s supposed to meet. Yoongi fixes the strap of his bag over his shoulder and lowers his face mask. He looks at the young man sitting at his favorite table just like they planned via messages. He came early. Yoongi always ends up showing up to appointments ten minutes earlier than necessary because he’s a fucking anxious mess about being late, so he’s secretly pleased that there’s someone who shares his (bad) habit.

Eventually, Yoongi loosens the heavy wool scarf around his neck and walks to the table.“Taehyung-ssi?”

Kim Taehyung’s head flips up from the cup of tea he’s holding between his hands and stares at him for a moment or two. He’s got some huge eyes, this one. And his hair is a mess of tangled waves that curl at his nape.

“The one and only!” Taehyung plasters a smile on his face. “Please sit. So, you must be—” 

“Min Yoongi.” He does as Taehyung said and sits across the table, putting down the bag. “My name is not on the website for privacy, but I think you should know it.”

Taehyung nods. He presses his lips together and fidgets for a while with the handle of the cup. Yoongi looks down at Taehyung’s hands and spots black stains on his fingertips. Maybe paint or graphite?

“Please, order something,” Taehyung says once the silence lingers for too long. “My treat.”

So Yoongi does. If anything to give the guy some breather since it’s quite clear that he’s nervous. Once he’s back at the table, order placed, Kim Taehyung has straightened up and is working really damn hard on making himself look at ease. Yoongi bites off a smile. It’s fine to be nervous, he reckons, he used to be nervous too the first few times.

“So,” Yoongi starts saying, carding a hand through his hair. It’s gotten too long and he can’t be bothered to make an appointment at a salon. “For the sake of the conversation, I believe it is best if we speak bluntly. Is that alright with you?”

Taehyung nods eagerly, mouth opening for a second; a waitress comes to the table at that moment, setting a glass of iced americano in front of Yoongi and a slice of carrot cake by its side.

Taehyung blinks at them. “That is a peculiar combination.”

Yoongi hums, drinking his coffee. He sets the glass down. “I have peculiar tastes.”

Kim Taehyung blinks. His face darkens with a blush.

Very cute, very endearing. Definitely his first time doing something like this.

“I’ll start with some questions first,” Yoongi says, softening his voice. “Is this the first time you contact a professional dom?”

Taehyung nods, eyes darting to the side. 

“How did you find the website? It’s not easily accessible.”

“A friend used your—services before,” Taehyung replies and, speaking quietly, his voice sounds even deeper than before. The kind of voice you don’t associate with a face like Kim Taehyung’s. “He recommended the website to me, told me everyone on it is very professional and experienced.”

Yoongi nods, picking at the cake with a small fork. “I take it, then, that you’ve never had experiences with BDSM.”

Taehyung’s throat works a harsh swallow. “Not exactly? Not with a professional, at least.”

Yoongi hums. “So mild stuff?”

“Very mild.”

Yoongi hums, nodding to himself. “But from the email you sent me and the list of things you are interested in, it seems to me you are not into mild stuff.”

Taehyung grabs the sleeve of his sweater and squeezes it. “Yeah.”

“Never found anyone who shared your interests?” Yoongi waits for Taehyung to shake his head. “I see. I can help with that, of course.”

“Nice.”

“Right.” Yoongi clears his throat. He’s not used to shy people. “That being said, I do have a question.”

“Of course.”

“What the fuck is up with the last paragraph of your email?”

Taehyung frowns. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Yoongi sighs and takes another bite of the cake. 

That damn paragraph in the email, at first, made him burst into laughter. Then it just greatly concerned him. “Let me see if I understand this correctly.” He rubs his temples. “You want me to, and I quote, deflower you.”

Taehyung nods solemnly. “After an extensive wax play.”

Yoongi stares at him. 

This guy… this fucking guy… and curse Yoongi’s curiosity too.

Yoongi decides to finish his cake. Because he’s starving, and this is the only place that can make this cake without making it taste like cardboard. Through it all, Taehyung goes back to pulling at his sleeves and bouncing his knee, looking around the room with those huge eyes.

Eventually, Yoongi sets the fork down and leans forward, elbows on the table, his hands held together loosely in front of his chin. Kim Taehyung’s eyes zero on his hands like a blood-hound.

Which is interesting and something Yoongi will keep in mind. “I’m going to ask another question, just to make sure.”

“Go for it.”

“Are you a virgin?”

Taehyung smiles. “Yep.”

What the actual fuck?

“ How ?” Yoongi looks at him with wide eyes, then schools his expression. “I mean, sorry if this is weird, but really. How?”

Taehyung leans back a little. “I mean, there’s plenty of reasons.”

“I struggle to find them.”

“It’s not that I didn’t try getting fucked. I did. Trust me . But whenever I tried and whenever we got to that point, I just—” Taehyung looks down at the table. His expression clouds, just a little. “It never felt right. It never felt enough. It was like something was missing. It just felt so-so plain, and I could never go through with it.” Taehyung looks at Yoongi again. “Then I started researching, right? And I was introduced to BDSM and it just felt like a relief? Like a hole being filled. No pun intended.”

It was kind of a funny pun. “Uh-huh.”

“I’ve done stuff. Quite a lot of stuff, actually.” Taehyung pauses and then seems to remember about his tea. He drinks a few sips of it, and then decidedly downs the rest. “And it’s not like I didn’t like those things. They were pleasing and—” Taehyung pauses, sending another glance around the room. “The orgasms, the pleasure, those things were all fine and dandy. But whenever I hear friends talk about their experiences with sex they always rave about how sated they feel afterward. But I—”

“You don’t feel sated.” Yoongi nods. “If anything, you feel unsatisfied. Is that right?”

For a moment, Taehyung is very still. Then, in a thick voice, he replies, “Yeah.”

“It’s quite common for people with our preferences to feel like that. Vanilla sex can be good, of course, but sometimes it’s not what you’re looking for.” Yoongi’s mouth curls into the briefest smile. “You’re twenty-four, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re young, you have all the time to explore new things and figure out exactly what it is you like. Some people discover themselves much later in life.” Yoongi taps his fingers on the table for a few moments. “Why me?”

“Huh?”

“Why did you choose me out of all the other people listed on the website? You didn’t mention this in the email.”

Taehyung blinks. “Oh. I just—” He pulls at his sleeve. “I liked your hands.”

Yoongi snorts. He’s going to allow his ego to get a bit bigger today. “Okay.”

“And you have very kind eyes.”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. “Alright. Thank you.”

“Plus, in your profile, there was a list of your specialties and they aligned with what I’m interested in. It just felt right.”

“Yes, there are lots of what you want to try that I enjoy as well.” Yoongi nods. “I’m willing to take you as a client.”

Taehyung smiles, knee bouncing at an even faster pace. “Great.”

“Before that, though, I want to make some stuff clear. Also, I want to have a trial session before we sign a contract.” Yoongi picks his messenger bag up and starts digging into it. Eventually, he pulls out a few sheets of paper. “Because it is your first experience I want to make sure we work well together. If I think we’re not suitable, I can recommend to you someone who I think would work better with you.”

At this, a small pinch appears on Taehyung’s face, but it goes away quickly. 

“And one more thing.” Yoongi sets the sheets down and looks at Taehyung in the eyes. “About your—deflowering request.”

“Yes?”

“I very rarely fuck my clients.”

Taehyung deflates a little. “Oh.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s out of the equation.” Yoongi shrugs. “But it’s not going to happen very soon. Just so you know.”

“That’s alright.” 

Yoongi slides the sheets of paper closer to Taehyung. “Here is a list of rules, my limits, safety systems I use, and a few things I thought might be suitable for our trial session. If it’s alright, I’d like you to read through it in private and cross out things you might not be comfortable trying either now or ever. And when we meet again, you’ll give it to me and we’ll work with what you give me. Along with that, you will find a list of kinks and I would appreciate it if you filled that out as well. I’ll also need you to take an STI test.” This only makes Taehyung nod. “I’ll take one as well before we meet.”

Taehyung takes the papers, glances at the front one, and then looks at Yoongi. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“This all seems very centered around me.”

“That’s because it is. It’s about you, about what you want.” Yoongi smiles. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Still.” Taehyung presses his lips together, frowning slightly. “If there’s something you particularly like then—”

Well, isn’t he sweet? Considerate and polite. 

“Trust me, Taehyung-ssi,” Yoongi says. “I will find immense pleasure in doing whatever you might want me to do to you.”

It takes exactly two seconds for Taehyung to burn red in the face again. Yoongi laughs, quietly, and this seems to make Taehyung somewhat offended. He sinks further into the sofa and grabs the now empty cup of tea, flicking his thumb at the sides. 

“Sorry,” Yoongi says. 

“‘s fine.”

“I am free for you next Friday afternoon or on Saturday. Do any of these days work for you?”

Taehyung nods. “Friday is alright.”

“Friday it is, then. I will send you the address by email.”

“For payment—”

“Trial play,” Yoongi says. “No need for payment for that. If by the end of it we’ll decide to move forward and sign a contract, then we will talk about it.”

“Alright. I—thank you for your time?”

“You’re very welcome.” Yoongi collects his things and stands. “I will see you on Friday, then. Don’t forget to fill out the papers.” 

Friday comes quickly.

Yoongi has been busy with work during the week (main job, the one he can talk to strangers about) so he doesn’t notice how quickly the day was approaching until two days before.

So when Friday comes Yoongi drives to his studio and sets up the place methodically. He cleans everywhere even though he makes sure to keep the space neat and sanitized, makes the bed with fresh sheets, makes sure he has water on the ready, that there are enough quilts on the sofa, and then settles today’s gear on the bed. It’s not like he needed much today, but he did make sure to oil the leather of the cuffs the previous day. It’s only a trial play and, most importantly, Taehyung’s first real experience. He’s not going to try anything too harsh. 

Once he’s satisfied with everything, Yoongi changes into black, loose slacks and tucks a large, white tee in the waistband, then walks out of the bedroom and into the small kitchenette, and starts boiling some water in a kettle. 

Taehyung arrives at the perfect time (literally the second the clock turns to four P.M.) and Yoongi opens the door for him.

“Please, come in. You can leave your shoes here.”

Taehyung nods wordlessly and does as he’s told. 

“You can give me your coat. Or you can leave it on a chair. Would you like some tea?”

“Ah, sure.” Taehyung forces a small smile and his cheeks go rounder as he does. “Thanks.”

“Sugar? Honey?”

“Nothing, thank you.”

Yoongi gestures for Taehyung to sit at the small table at the side of the kitchenette and fills two mugs with warm tea. He sets one in front of Taehyung and then sits in front of him. 

“Yoongi-ssi, is this your home?”

“Ah, no, this—” Yoongi rubs his nose. “I rent this place for work.”

Taehyung nods, and gingerly sips his tea. Yoongi looks at him for a moment: he’s nervous, that much is clear, but he swears he can also see a hint of excitement in the light of his eyes.

“Should we go over the scene? And the papers, did you—”

“I filled everything, yes.” Taehyung grabs his bag from the ground and hands Yoongi the papers. “My tests came out all clean too, they’re in there as well.”

Yoongi nods and reads through the filled-out forms. He’s especially interested in the list he gave Taehyung and, secretly, he’s pleased with the results. “You seem curious about a lot of things.”

Taehyung makes a little mh-mh sound and pretends he’s very focused on the cup of tea. 

“Well, if today goes well I’ll make sure to work our way up to some of them.” He sets the papers down. “Let’s talk about today’s scene, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Are you comfortable with everything I wrote?”

Taehyung breathes in. “Yes.”

“The restraints too?” Yoongi asks and waits for Taehyung to nod. “Alright. A few things, then: since it’s your first time with me I will be especially vocal today. I will ask you questions, and will check on your colors multiple times; I’ll need you to answer every single question. If you don’t answer for too long, I’ll momentarily stop the play to check on you.”

Taehyung’s thumb catches on the mug’s handle. “Alright, yes.”

“You’ve read through all of the papers, yeah?”

“Yes, of course.”

Yoongi smiles. “So have you picked something to call me by?”

Yoongi really doesn’t have that many rules. As long as everyone is enjoying themselves and are safe, he’s honestly good to go: the one thing he’s adamant about is not being called by his name during the play. 

Distance, sometimes, is necessary.

A light frown appears on Taehyung’s face. It’s interesting how Taehyung’s expressions are all very subtle. Yoongi noticed it the first time they met too, apart from his smiles, his face is very stoic and steady. “Honestly, I’ve really tried thinking of something but nothing came to mind.”

“Even my surname is alright.”

“That—” Taehyung grimaces. “That feels rude.”

Yoongi snorts. Taehyung grins at his reaction, and says, “I could use suggestions.”

“I’m okay with most things,” Yoongi replies. “Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

“Something like—I don’t know… sir?”

“If that’s what you like, sure.”

Taehyung hums but doesn’t seem convinced. Yoongi says, “It doesn’t have to be formal, y’know?”

“Then.” Taehyung clears his voice. “Is it fine if I just call you hyung?”

“Sure,” Yoongi says easily. “That’s okay.”

Taehyung sighs. Tension bleeds off his shoulders as he does, and there’s definite relief on his face. That, too, is subtle, but Yoongi is good at catching shifts in people’s demeanors. Kind of a big part of his job.

“Then, before we start, do you wanna shower?”

Taehyung blinks. “I—” He looks at a corner of the room. “I already—y’know—”

“Prepped?”

“Yep,” Taehyung croaks out.

“I’m sure you did.” Yoongi smiles at him and catches his eyes. “I meant for the nerves, Taehyung-ssi.”

“Oh.”

“It might help you relax, that’s all.”

Taehyung stays still for entire seconds, then looks down at his lap. “I don’t know why I’m so nervous.”

“It’s normal. I mean it.” Yoongi softens his voice then. “Taehyung-ssi, this doesn’t have to happen today.”

Taehyung sharply looks up and says, “No. I want to do it.”

“Then go ahead and shower. It will help, promise.” He stands up. “Bathroom is connected to the bedroom, and inside it, you will find a robe. Wear it once you’re done, then once you’re ready walk into the room and kneel by the bed. I’ll be there.” 

Taehyung eventually gets up, leaving his bag by the table and walking into the bathroom after Yoongi directs him to it. He waits for the sound of water running before he walks into the bedroom, doing one final check of everything. 

Soon enough, Yoongi hears the water as it stops running, and he rolls his shoulders, standing by the bed, back to the bathroom door. He looks at the bedsheets he picked for today, a deep and rich blue. Distantly, he thinks that this color will contrast nicely with Taehyung’s complexion.

The door creaks lightly as it opens and Yoongi doesn’t turn around. Without a word, he raises an arm and points to the ground, right next to him.

There’s maybe a moment of hesitation, but then Taehyung’s footsteps approach. He hears the rustling of fabric as Taehyung kneels and he takes one deep breath in.

Yoongi sits at the edge of the bed, in front of Taehyung, and spreads his knees. “Color.”

Taehyung is looking down on his lap, head lowered, and says, “Green.”

“Look at me.”

Taehyung does. 

Huh. 

That’s a nice expression he’s making. Less guarded, more vulnerable. A nice flush to his cheeks, an expectant light to his gaze. 

“You can look at me,” Yoongi says. “If I ever want you not to, I will tell you.” Then, he reaches for Taehyung’s face. He tips his chin up, then strokes down the column of his throat. “You’re very beautiful.”

Taehyung’s fingers twitch over his lap. “T-thank you.”

Wordlessly, Yoongi leans down and reaches for the silken sash tied loosely around Taehyung’s waist. He pulls at it until it gives, and the white robe’s fabric slides open. hanging at Taehyung’s sides. The only reaction Taehyung gives is a muted gasp.

He’s not hard yet, but his cock is twitching and fattening where it lays between his thighs. 

“Up,” Yoongi says and waits for Taehyung to stand. “Don’t move.”

Still sitting, Yoongi sets his hand over Taehyung’s hip and draws it up to his ribs, then down again. He has lovely skin, tan and giving under his fingers. He bets it bruises easily. Which isn’t in the plans for today, but who knows? When his fingers trail to Taehyung’s inner thighs, his cock jumps. 

Yoongi grins, “Someone’s eager.” Then, he twists around and collects the cuffs from where he laid them on the mattress. “Give me your wrists.”

Taehyung blinks, holding his breath. Then, he lifts his arms and offers his wrists to Yoongi. Palms up, fingers lax. 

Yoongi tightens the first cuff and asks, “Too tight?”

“No.”

“Tell me if they get uncomfortable at any point.”

“Yes, hyung.”

Yoongi hums and closes the strap of the second leather cuff too. He then holds Taehyung’s bound wrists in his hands, thumb drawing circles over the dark leather. “Color, Taehyung?”

“Green.”

“Good.” Yoongi stands up. “Get on the bed, back against the pillows.”

He waits for Taehyung to settle where he piled up the pillows, towards the side of the bed but with enough room that he can spread his legs. Once he’s sitting, knees drawn to his stomach, bound arms against his chest, Yoongi joins him and sits at the edge of the mattress. 

“You’re doing very well,” he says after noticing the way Taehyung’s breathing has quickened. He grabs the bottle of lube he set earlier by the pillows and looks at Taehyung. “Spread your legs for me.”

Taehyung’s body jerks, eyes widening. Slowly, he parts his legs open, eyes set on Yoongi. A pleased thrill travels down Yoongi’s spine, his cock twitching in his slacks. 

Taehyung is hard, cock curved over his belly.

“Alright, Taehyung,” Yoongi says as he pours lube over his right hand, rubbing it between his fingers. “Let’s see how many times you can come before you start screaming.”

He sees Taehyung’s eyes widening, his mouth opening as if to say something. Yoongi wraps his fingers around Taehyung’s cock in a tight ring before he gets to speak, and Taehyung’s moan is—deep, rich, and startled. Satisfaction, and a familiar excitement, settle heavily in Yoongi’s chest. 

He keeps his strokes deliberately slow, his fingers tight, and watches how Taehyung’s body carefully relaxes as he gives in to pleasure. 

“Good?” He asks. Taehyung nods, fast, lips pressed together. Yoongi squeezes around Taehyung’s cock hard, and says, “Use your words.”

“F-feels good,” Taehyung gasps, knees jerking. 

“Mh, good boy.” Yoongi smiles when another quiet moan slips past Taehyung’s lips. He loosens the ring of his fingers again, and strokes along the length of Taehyung’s hard, slick dick. “Relax. Enjoy it. Like that, yes.”

Taehyung leans heavier into the pillows, legs visibly more pliant. But Yoongi can still see the tension in him; his shoulders will not lower, his abdomen keeps clenching, revealing soft muscles, and Taeyung still keeps his lips tightly pressed shut to muffle any noise.

Yoongi quickens the pace of his strokes just a little and Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed for only a second as he draws a sharp breath, lips parting; he’s quick in closing his mouth again.

Yoongi hums. It’s alright, not everyone can let go of control easily. If Taehyung needs more sessions, and training, Yoongi can provide that. But that’s for the future, it’s not something that can be done in one session.

What Taehyung needs now, Yoongi reasons, is a distraction.

“Tell me where you’re sensitive.”

Taehyung’s eyes move to Yoongi’s face, and he brings his bound hands against his chest. “W-what?”

“When you touch yourself, where are you most sensitive?” Yoongi closes his fist on the upstroke, kneading briefly the head of Taehyung’s cock.

Taehyung’s body jerks for a second but then relaxes again. “I—I’m not s-sure.”

“Do you only touch your cock?”

Taehyung’s face flushes a richer color. “No,” he replies in a breath. “My ass, too.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi grins. “Maybe next time you should show hyung how you finger yourself.”

Taehyung lets out a quiet whine, his hips stuttering as if he tried fucking into Yoongi’s fist. “If—” he swallows harshly. “If hyung wants me to.”

Yoongi breathes in. Warm satisfaction curls low in his belly and has his cock twitching under his trousers. “Color.”

“Green.”

Yoongi quickens his strokes, lube squelching under his palm. Taehyung makes a noise at this, something quiet and embarrassed, and he closes his eyes, the side of his head pressed against the pillows.

“You’re being very good for me, Taehyung,” Yoongi says, voice low. He twists his wrist as he strokes down Taehyung’s cock, and feels it twitch against his palm. “Stop trying to hold back.”

“I—” Taehyung’s breath hitches. “I can’t, I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologize. You’ll get there.” Then, Yoongi thinks back to the list Taehyung filled out. “Open your mouth.”

Taehyung hesitates for a moment but in the end, he rolls his head to look at Yoongi as he parts his lips for him. Yoongi brings his free hand to press lightly over a soft, warm bottom lip before slowly pushing his fingers into Taehyung’s mouth. Taehyung’s chest swells with a gasp, then deflates as he breathes out.

“Don’t suck,” Yoongi murmurs and strokes Taehyung’s cock faster. “Keep your mouth open.”

Taehyung’s cockhead is shiny with lube and precome, his eyes lidded and a deep, dark color. And now that he can’t bite his damn lips raw, his moans slip out unbidden. 

“Oh, good boy.” Yoongi smiles and realizes that his breath is coming out faster. “Pretty voice, too.”

Taehyung whines, his back arches faintly. Yoongi pushes the pads of his fingers down on Taehyung’s tongue, his own cock hardening in his slacks with each of Taehyung’s quiet, breathy moans. 

Yoongi doesn’t have many sessions with inexperienced subs, let alone with a first-timer, but this is—good. Thrilling, even, to see someone slowly but clearly slipping into the right headspace. 

“Close?” Yoongi asks when Taehyung’s noises grow in volume. He waits for Taehyung to nod. “You can come anytime you want. You’re doing very well.”

Taehyung shivers, full-bodied, cock throbbing between Yoongi’s slick fingers, and he groans as his eyes close. 

“Like that, yes,” Yoongi breathes out and starts stroking Taehyung in earnest. “Let go, Taehyung, come for hyung.”

Taehyung’s body shakes and his back arches off the pillows as he comes over Yoongi’s fist with a choked cry.

“Good.” Yoongi slows down his fist, but he lets Taehyung ride the orgasm as he slips his fingers out of his mouth. “Coming when you’re told to, good boy.”

Taehyung moans again, this time without even trying to hold back. Yoongi did read that Taehyung enjoyed praise in his form, but it’s still a pleasant surprise to see just how much he likes it.

“One more time,” Yoongi says, and he starts stroking Taehyung’s dick faster. 

Taehyung’s body tenses, head thrown back. “ Fuck. ”

“You’re still so hard,” Yoongi muses. “Color.”

“ Haah —” Taehyung’s eyes close, mouth slick and red. “Green.”

“That’s right.” Yoongi rubs his thumb in the slit of Taehyung’s cock, a shiver running down his body when Taehyung makes a strangled, overwhelmed noise. “Tell me how you feel.”

“I— ah —good, too much—” He hiccups, bound hands pressed to his chest, the chain connecting the cuffs clinking with each rise of his chest. “Feel hot e-everywhere.”

“Focus on that,” Yoongi tells him. He reaches for the lube again, and squeezes more of it directly over the tip of Taehyung’s cock, smearing it down with the next stroke. 

Taehyung’s entire body trembles, hard, his feet sliding down the bedsheets. There’s sweat beading his forehead, down his neck, and still that stubborn effort into trying to keep quieter than he probably wants to be, but Yoongi can see it: he’s slipping.

“Hyung,” Taehyung gasps when Yoongi uses his free hand to stroke along his inner thigh. “ Hyung —”

“Close again?” Yoongi swallows, a familiar heat spreading in his chest when Taehyung gives him a shaky nod. “Good boy, getting close again so soon.”

Taehyung’s mouth opens into a noiseless moan, neck straining as he arches, his legs trembling. 

Yoongi lets himself bask in the pleasure of this: the control he has, the way Taehyung is letting himself lose it in turn. 

Then, Taehyung comes a second time, his voice high and almost pitiful, cum ending on his belly and over Yoongi’s hand.

This time, he doesn’t slow down. He strokes Taehyung through it at the same speed and tightens his fist. Taehyung squirms, and cries out, “Oh, god , please— ”

“One more, give me one more.”

“I can’t,” Taehyung whimpers, his legs closing against Yoongi’s arm. “Hyung, I—”

Yoongi looks at him. “Color.”

Taehyung’s eyes stare back, hazy and wet, so goddamn dark and— “ Green. ”

Yoongi breathes out, chest heavy with satisfaction. “Then open your legs, Taehyung.”

Slowly, trembling, Taehyung parts his legs once more, chest heaving. His fingers are shaking, his breaths come quick and uneven. 

For a moment, Yoongi wants to wreck him.

The moment he starts stroking Taehyung’s cock again, Taehyung makes a horse cry, and then his voice breaks into a whimper. “ Hurts —”

“Tell me how it hurts.” Yoongi kneads Taehyung’s cockhead.

“Burns,” Taehyung gasps, his stomach clenched.

“You like that.”

Taehyung whines and hides his face behind his forearms, the chain linking the cuffs clicking lightly. “I l-like it.”

“Let go then,” Yoongi says quietly as he brings his free hand to press down on Taehyung’s hip, keeping him still against the mattress. “Just feel good, Taehyung. The burn, the pain, you can enjoy it. You already are.”

Taehyung cries out something garbled and messy, his body twisting as he tries to squirm away and lift his hips at the same time. 

“Yeah, good boy,” Yoongi says, breathless with the rush of adrenaline, his cock hard and untouched in his trousers. He quickens his pace, closes his hand around Taehyung’s cock with each upstroke, feels it twitching between his fingers, and sees it leaking. “One more for hyung, let go.”

Taehyung’s body locks for a second and then he’s coming with an overwhelmed sob that fades into strangled moans and cries, back lifting off the pillows. Yoongi strokes him through it slowly, loosening his fist gradually, coming to a stop.

Taehyung collapses back into the pillows and each breath is a quiet, lingering sound of pleasure. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi whispers, pressing his thumb in soothing circles over Taehyung’s hipbone. “You did so well. You were great.”

Taehyung’s eyes are closed, lashes wet. He hums, lying still and panting, his legs slowly sliding down the bed sheets as tension fully melts off of him.

Yoongi gets off the bed and leans over Taehyung, taking care in speaking quietly. “I’ll be right back, is that alright?”

Taehyung nods wordlessly, so Yoongi goes to the bathroom and washes his hands before quickly dampening under warm water one of the towels he keeps in a cabinet. Back in the bedroom, he sits on the mattress and gently dabs over Taehyung’s stomach, then his soft dick. Taehyung flinches at the contact, no doubt too sensitive and spent, but then relaxes again.

“I’ll take the cuffs off,” Yoongi says then, reaching for Taehyung’s wrists. “How are you feeling?”

Taehyung swallows and lets Yoongi undo the cuffs without even trying to raise his arms. Voice hoarse, he replies, “Like I can’t fucking move.”

Yoongi snorts. Once the cuffs are off, he sets them in the center of the bed and then ties Taehyung’s robe again. “No rush. But you’ll be cold soon, so you should wear something warmer than this.”

“Oh, that—” Taehyung hesitates. His voice sounds much weaker than it usually is, almost dazed. “That sounds terrible.”

“Would a blanket work better for now?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

So Yoongi collects one from the closet, the fabric soft enough that it shouldn’t be uncomfortable on Taehyung’s sensitive skin. On his part, Taehyung lets himself be wrapped into it easily and without a fuss, only looking at Yoongi with an almost curious gaze. “I think I can get up.”

The walk to the couch goes without a hitch too. Taehyung’s legs are clearly not as steady as they usually are, but he gets there no problem and happily drops on the sofa as soon as he’s close enough, wrapping the blanket tighter around himself. Yoongi goes to the kitchen and fills a glass with fresh water before picking up a piece of wrapped chocolate, then he crouches in front of Taehyung. “This is for when you feel like drinking,” he says, setting the glass on the coffee table by his side. “And this is for now.” He unwraps the chocolate and grins when Taehyung makes no move to grab it himself, and only opens his mouth. Yoongi pushes the chocolate between his lips and says, “Don’t chew it, let it melt. I’ll be right back.”

In the bedroom, Yoongi takes a bottle of moisturizer and then he’s sitting on the couch by Taehyung’s side, who is quietly rolling the chocolate from cheek to cheek. “Wrists, please.”

Taehyung frowns but pulls his arms out of the blanket. His wrists are reddened, but nothing that will bruise too much. Yoongi pumps some moisturizer into his hands and then rubs it into the skin of Taehyung’s wrists with careful pressure. “Are you cold?”

“‘m fine,” Taehyung says, voice thick with the melting chocolate.

“Alright. If you want to shower you can.”

“Honestly, Yoongi-ssi, I feel like I’ll pass out if I do.”

Yoongi chuckles, glancing at Taehyung. “Okay. Once you feel up to it, we can talk about the scene and then talk about the future sessions if it’s something you’re interested in.”

Taehyung blinks. “You’d be—willing? To have more sessions with me?”

Yoongi hums, massaging Taehyung’s wrists. “I think today went very well. You were good, and I enjoyed myself too. I’d be more than willing to sign a contract together and move forward.”

“Well, that’s a fucking relief,” Taehyung scoffs, and then groans. “Sorry. I can’t control my mouth right now.”

“That’s fine, too.”

“I also—” He clears his throat. “Enjoyed myself.”

“I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“Very funny.”

“Well, since we’re talking about it, let’s just get through this.” Yoongi lets go of Taehyung’s wrists and watches him getting swaddled by the blanket again. “I truly mean it when I say you did very well. This was your true first experience and you were great. You listened, and you spoke up, and you trusted me. In turn, I trusted you. It’s not easy for inexperienced subs to fall into the right headspace from the first session.”

Taehyung hums, looking down at the blanket pooling over his feet. “About that—I think I struggled with it. With—as you said, letting go. But there were moments when—” He frowns. “I don’t know how I can explain it. There were moments when I almost felt my awareness genuinely slip out? And it was kind of… well, it was alarming.”

“Well, that’s also understandable.” 

“But I wanted to.” Taehyung swallows. “I wanted to let it go. To just—not think.”

“We can work on it if it’s something you want to try. Going under, slipping fully into subspace, is not something that just happens. It needs time. But if it’s something you want, I’ll help you get there.” Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest. “Is there something else you’d want from me?”

At this, Taehyung presses his lips together. Eventually, he says, “Okay, this is gonna sound kind of awkward.”

“That’s fine.”

“And I don’t wanna, like—offend you. ‘Cause, you were great! Genuinely!”

“Taehyung-ssi.”

“I wish you were meaner,” is what Taehyung blurts out.

Yoongi nods, bringing a hand to his mouth to hide the grin he knows he won’t be able to force away. “I see.”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’d never.”

“No, I can see you kind of are.”

“The reason why I wasn’t— mean —as you said, is ‘cause today was a trial session and your first scene ever. But, ” Yoongi says, faintly amused. “If you want me to be meaner I can be meaner.”

Taehyung draws his knees to his chest, struggling a bit under the blanket. “I want that.”

“Good, I want to be mean too.” Yoongi doesn’t care to hide his grin this time, endlessly entertained by Taehyung’s flustered expression. “Whatever you want, Taehyung-ssi.”

“So…”

“I’ll send you by e-mail a contract, my prices per scene—I gotta be paid in cash by the way—and a plan for our next play that I want you to read through. If you’ll be okay with what you find, I can see you again in two weeks. Does that work?” 

“That works. Yep.”

“And of course, Taehyung-ssi, if you ever want to try something specific just let me know. This is, after all, mainly about you. But I’m thinking of…working my way down your very long list of interests.”

“And what about my—” Taehyung rubs his neck. “My request?”

“You mean the deflowering request?”

“Okay, I see now that the word choice has been poor.”

“I meant it: I very rarely fuck my clients.” Yoongi smiles. “But we’ll see.”

Taehyung seems relieved at this, and he nods with a small smile of his own. 

“Now.” Yoongi stands again. “How about I make you a cup of tea and then you can get dressed, mh?”

Chapter Text

The moment Taehyung opens the door, he says, “I need you to calm down immediately.”

Jungkook blinks at him, standing on the threshold. “I’m calm.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Cool and collected.”

“You’re buzzing like a damn hornet, don’t lie to me.”

Jungkook groans and shoulders his way inside Taehyung’s flat, kicking off his shoes. “I’m just curious! Is it a crime? To be curious?”

“About your friend’s sex life?” Taehyung closes the door behind him. “Kinda.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes, taking off his coat and scarf and abandoning them on top of Taehyung’s couch. Rude little shit, Taehyung owns a coat hanger, why does no one use it? “It’s more than that. I’m the one who introduced you to the website, I’d feel like shit if it went badly.”

Taehyung softens a little. He gestures at Jungkook to go sit somewhere and then goes to the kitchen to grab two cans of soda from the fridge. He walks back to his cramped living room, where Jungkook is already lounging on the couch. “It didn’t go badly, so now you can calm down.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Jungkook accepts the can and then grins. “So it went well?”

Taehyung drops next to him, rolling the cool can between the palm of his hands. “Yeah.”

“How well?”

He rubs his neck. “Really well.”

“Give me the details now before I jump off your window.”

“Again, I’m gonna need you to calm down.” Taehyung pops the can open and takes a long sip of his soda. “And no, I’m not giving you the details, that’s just—terrible.”

Jungkook makes a frustrated noise, eyeing his can with disappointment. Then, like a switch has been flipped, he brightens up again. “At least tell me about him: what’s he like?”

Taehyung decides that staring at his turned-off TV is much better than replying to this question while looking Jungkook in the eyes. “He’s—handsome.”

“Nice.”

“Small.”

“Okay?”

“Like, he’s shorter than me but also has really nice shoulders. And hands. I really fucking like his hands.” Taehyung shrugs. “He’s very soft-spoken, too. Which I like. His voice is really deep but, like, not chain-smoker deep.”

“Your descriptions are kind of lacking.”

“I liked him, okay? That’s all you need to know. I was comfortable, and he’s nice and good at what he does.”

Jungkook nods. “When are you two meeting again?”

“Two weeks. I’m waiting for him to send me some more instructions and stuff.”

Jungkook grins, finally opening his can and drinking too. “Good for you.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung mutters. “Indeed.”

After a moment of silence, Jungkook asks, “Were you nervous?”

Taehyung snorts. “I was kind of shitting myself in the beginning.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Jungkook scoots closer, pressing his shoulder against Taehyung’s. “I was nervous too the first time I met with someone from the website. But in the end, it went great for me.” He smiles wide. “Maybe it will be the same for you.”

Taehyung stares at him, unimpressed. “It didn’t just go great for you. You’re dating the guy. I still can’t believe you’re fucking dating him, the guy you used to pay to hang you up and—”

“Okay, let’s not get into the details, hyung.” 

“It’s not gonna go great for me in the same way as you,” Taehyung says in the end. “I’m not looking for love, let alone thinking about dating a professional dom. That’s just—” Taehyung grimaces. “That’s cliché. Overused trope. Plus, I’m too busy to date anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Sooner or later—”

“Oh, there he goes again.”

“Sooner or later, hyung will meet someone and fall in love so damn bad.”

“Sure, Jungkook-ah.”

“Like, pathetic love kind of love.”

“That’s… kind of mean?”

“And when that happens I’ll be there, with a huge fucking sign that says, I TOLD YOU SO. In capital letters and everything.”

“Feels a bit too much, but go off.”

“More seriously, though.” Jungkook clears his voice, and his expression sobers up. “I’m really happy you went through with this. I know it wasn’t easy for you to take this step, but—hyung, you really deserve to live your sexuality and your preferences more freely. This is good for you.”

Taehyung, stupidly enough, kind of chokes up a little. It was the same when he met with Yoongi the first time too, at the café. When Yoongi had looked him in the eyes and said, genuinely and without a hint of judgment or malice, that it must have felt like a relief for Taehyung to find out more about BDSM. Even then, Taehyung swore he could have cried.

“Thank you,” Taehyung murmurs now. “I think it’s good too.”

“Do you already know what you’re gonna do next time you see him?”

Taehyung shakes his head. “No, he’s gonna send me an email about it but—” At that moment, his phone buzzes in the pocket of his trousers. Taehyung pulls it out and checks the notification, sipping on his soda. Once he recognizes the email address, he almost chokes. “Oh, shit, he just sent it.”

“I wanna read!” Jungkook exclaims, putting aside the soda can. “Oh, please, lemme read this with you, I will be so miserable if you don’t let me—”

“Oh, shut it. Fine. Fine.” Taehyung opens the email, trying to keep his embarrassment at bay. It’s fine, isn’t it? Jungkook always tells him about his scenes with Namjoon, so this should be fine. 

They read through the file in silence.

In the end, Jungkook turns to him and looks him in the eyes, “You lucky motherfucker, you found yourself a pleasure dom.”

╭─────╮

Yoongi paces around the room in measured steps, taking one last survey of everything he prepared. Everything is in the right spot, and ready for Taehyung. He draws the curtains open wider today, as today’s appointment is earlier than last time and there's nice sunlight that filters through the windows. They’re on a high enough floor that no one from outside can see anyway, with no other buildings on this side of the apartment. 

Finally, Yoongi takes the armchair he usually keeps in the corner of the room and brings it over to the bed, setting it a couple of steps away from the edge of the mattress. Satisfied, he walks out into the small living room and starts the tea. When they had it after the scene, Taehyung had mentioned he liked herbal teas more than fruity ones, so Yoongi pulls out the box of lavender tea.

He glances at his phone, sees that there are still a few minutes before their arranged time, and decides to check his emails. He groans lightly when he sees yet another invitation to a BDSM club he swears he hasn’t gone to for the past year and ignores it. The last time he did a public scene was so long ago, why are they still trying to make it happen? Aren’t there lots of people in the community who would gladly do it? Probably better than him too?

There’s a knock on the door, and Yoongi puts away the phone and walks to the entrance.

Taehyung bows slightly once the door is opened, and walks inside wrapped in a huge scarf that covers up to the tip of his nose. 

“Cold outside?”

Taehyung hums as he takes off his shoes. “Ah, yeah, the temperatures have dropped all at once. Froze my ass off today.” 

Yoongi closes the door. “Did you walk here?”

“Took the subway, I hate driving.” Taehyung unwraps the scarf. “But I think I might hate this cold more, so—I’ll drive next time.”

“Leave your coat wherever. Tea?”

Taehyung nods with a smile. Yoongi goes to take the boiling water off the stove and starts preparing two mugs. Today Taehyung looks—maybe relaxed is not the right word just yet, but definitely less stiff and nervous than last time.

They sit at the table in the kitchenette area again, blowing on their teas for a few moments. 

“How have you been these past two weeks?” Yoongi asks.

“Oh, I’ve been alright! Busy.”

“Are you an artist?”

Taehyung blinks. “Huh?”

“Just—” Yoongi nods at his hands. “Your fingers are always stained with paint.”

“Ah, this?” Taehyung chuckles, shaking his head and hiding his stained fingers under the hems of his sweater. “I’m not, like, a professional artist or anything. I like painting, but it’s mostly just for passion and fun. It’s not my job.”

“What is your job?” Yoongi takes a sip of tea. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I’m an actor.” Taehyung pauses. Then, louder, he adds, “Not like…a famous one or anything. I’m a theater actor, so it’s not like I’m on TV or something.”

Yoongi nods. “That sounds like a fun job, though.”

“Yeah, it’s—I really love what I do.” Taehyung’s smile goes wider, genuine, and bright. “It’s great. We’re rehearsing for a new show that will run at the end of January. It’s tough work, but—” Suddenly, he laughs. “I’m sorry, I’m kinda rambling.”

“It’s alright. I asked.” Yoongi then says, “But they must pay you well.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, and he leans in closer. “How did you know?”

“Because—” Yoongi leans in as well with a smile. “You can afford my rates.”

Taehyung splutters, and then starts laughing. And it’s a nice laugh, breathy and reserved, but it reaches his eyes and makes him look young and softer than he normally is.

“Yeah, they pay me well. I’m not famous when it comes to mainstream actors, but in the theater community I’m a known face.” 

“I see.”

“Yoongi-ssi, do you like theater?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen a play live in a theater.”

Taehyung hums, bringing the mug to his mouth.

“So.” Yoongi leans back into the seat. “You’ve read through my email, and agreed to the scene I planned. Anything you want to ask?”

Taehyung nods, setting the mug down. “I’m alright with everything you’ve listed, just—” He straightens his shoulders. “It said, in the email, that this scene will last longer than the other one. So how much longer would it be?”

“Well,” Yoongi says. “I imagine as long as you can handle it.”

“Right!” Taehyung’s smile is tight and his cheeks flush slightly. “Got it. Cool.”

“The moment you want to stop, we will stop,” Yoongi adds, hoping that it sounds reassuring. “One word from you and it’s done, of course.” 

Taehyung nods, his fingers rubbing over the sides of the mug. “Then, I think I’d like to shower first.”

The shower is quick this time.

Yoongi waits for the water to be cut off before he moves into the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

Taehyung steps out, wearing the blue robe Yoongi left for him in the bathroom and he quickly kneels on the ground, in front of him. The tips of his hair are damp, and he smells of the jasmine body-wash Yoongi keeps in the shower.

“Color, Taehyung?”

“Green,” Taehyung replies quickly.

Yoongi reaches for his face, tilting his chin up and stroking his thumb over Taehyung’s cheek. “Get up.”

Taehyung stands, looking down at Yoongi. His chest swells with slow, measured breaths, but Yoongi can tell he’s trying hard to keep it even. When Taehyung spots the silicone, red dildo that lays on the bed, his eyes widen for a second, but he says nothing.

“I want you naked.”

Taehyung lets out a quiet sigh.

Last time, Yoongi left the robe on Taehyung throughout the whole scene. It didn’t cover anything, but he knows it still gave Taehyung the illusion of not being fully nude. It can be hard, for some people, to be the only one completely undressed when their partner remains fully clothed.

Today, Yoongi wants that illusion gone.

With a swift motion, Taehyung undoes the robe’s tie at his waist and the fabric slides smoothly down his shoulders and arms, pooling at his feet.

Yoongi smiles at him. “There you are.” He reaches behind him and grabs the same cuffs he used last time, freshly oiled and dried. Standing up, Yoongi walks behind Taehyung. “Arms.”

There is a moment of hesitation. Then, Taehyung brings his arm behind his back, folding one over the other. Yoongi secures the cuffs with ease, then lets Taehyung relax his arms, massaging over his biceps. “Last time I let you have your arms in front of you. Today, it’s going to be a little different.” His fingers move over the broad curve of Taehyung’s shoulders, trailing down his spine. He feels him shuddering faintly and grins to himself. “You like it, don’t you? Not being able to move them.”

“Yes,” Taehyung replies, quietly.

“If it’s something you enjoy, we can move into more restricting bondage in the future.” He curls his fingers around Taehyung’s nape. “I will ask you this only once: do you want me to be mean today?”

Taehyung’s fingers twitch, and his breath cuts off. “Yes, hyung.”

Without another word, Yoongi tightens his grip on Taehyung’s nape and then pushes him down. Taehyung drops over the edge of the bed, his chest pinned over the mattress by Yoongi’s hold, his legs hanging off the edge. He makes a sound, squeezing his legs together and staying perfectly still. 

“Don’t move,” Yoongi says before letting go of his neck. He moves to the nightstand and picks up a bottle of lube before making his way back to Taehyung. “Show me your ass.”

Taehyung glances at him from over his shoulder before dropping his head back on the bed. His fingers are shaking lightly when he grabs his asscheeks and spreads them apart. 

“Good boy,” Yoongi murmurs, uncapping the lube and then pouring it directly over Taehyung’s hole.

“Ah,” Taehyung breathes out, legs squeezing together again. 

“Keep your legs open,” Yoongi says, adding more lube over the crack of Taehyung’s ass. It’s too much, Yoongi knows, but this way it keeps sliding down between Taehyung’s thighs now that he’s spread them, and the sight is filthy. “Like that. Don’t close them.”

He puts away the lube, and then finally sits on the armchair that he had put by the edge of the bed. “Remember last time? You said you’d show me how you touch yourself if I wanted to.”

“I—” Taehyung swallows audibly, still gripping his asscheeks, showing his hole. “I remember.”

Yoongi hums. “Hyung wants you to.” 

For the next moments, Taehyung does not move, so still that Yoongi realizes he’s holding his breath. Then, hesitantly, Taehyung moves his right hand to his asshole. He collects lube over his fingers, then rubs the pads around the ring of muscles.

Yoongi hums, leaning back into the armchair. He watches as Taehyung keeps teasing himself, pressing slick fingers around his hole, down his perineum, then slipping only half of his fingers inside of him, breath hitching as he does. Eventually, Taehyung pushes his finger deeper into him and makes a low, keening sound.

“Look at you,” Yoongi muses, resting his chin on the palm of his hand. “Taking that in so well. Add another.”

Taehyung whines, squirming a little. But between his legs, his cock hangs heavy and full. He does as he’s told, and immediately adds a second finger, groaning at the stretch. His cock jumps, and hardens.

“How do you do it, Taehyung?” Yoongi asks. “Do you tease yourself? Draw it out? Or do you immediately look for what makes you cry?”

Taehyung’s breath hitches, hole clenching around his fingers. “I—I tease myself.”

“Of course you do,” Yoongi mutters, pleased with the discovery. “I bet you can’t even be too loud. Do you hold your moans, like you did last time with me? Or do you muffle them?”

“I—hnn—I try t-to be quiet.”

“You don’t have to be quiet today. Add another.”

Taehyung shivers visibly, and he adds a third finger. The moan that escapes him is almost startled, and so very quiet. 

Yoongi clicks his tongue. He needs to work on this, he imagines, on the way Taehyung is so used to keeping quiet. 

For a while, Yoongi lets him do as he pleases. Taehyung’s fingers push in and out of him at a slow pace, lube catching around the rim, and it’s clear he’s being deliberately careful with how deep he goes, how fast, that he’s avoiding the spots he’s most sensitive.

“No teasing today. I want you to make yourself feel good.”

Taehyung’s back is straining in this position, and with his arms bound like that Yoongi knows he can’t reach too deep. But still, it should be enough. Taehyung starts thrusting his fingers inside his hole faster, twisting his wrist, crooking his fingers—

Taehyung’s body jerks, his cock twitching between his spread legs. He bites off a moan, the sound of it smothered and too quiet.

“Surely you can be louder than that,” Yoongi says. 

“‘m sorry,” Taehyung gasps, his fingers still pushing into him, faster, deeper. 

“I know you are.” Yoongi breathes in, out. “It’s alright. You’re doing well.”

Soon enough, Taehyung is fingering himself earnestly. His hips keep making small, jerky movements as if he’s trying to chase his own thrusts, or maybe to rut his hard cock against the side of the bed. Every push of his fingers is a quiet, stolen moan, choked whines when his fingers can’t reach deep enough with the cuffs, thighs trembling with the effort of staying open and keeping him upright. 

Then, Taehyung cries out abruptly, his spine arching, “Hyung—”

“Are you close?”

“I—don’t know, I feel—”

“Stop.”

Taehyung freezes, fingers still deep inside of him. After a moment, he lets out a long, high whine, lube trailing down his inner thighs and cock hard and untouched.

“Good.” Yoongi leans forward, bracing his elbows over his knees. “Pull your fingers out, and show me again.”

Taehyung slowly pulls out, fingers slick and shaking when he spreads his asscheeks again. 

Yoongi hums, looking at Taehyung’s hole, wet and clenching around nothing. “Taehyung-ah, you should see yourself. Kneeling over my bed and showing off your ass like a good boy.”

Taehyung murmurs something, voice thick and muffled into the bedsheets. 

“What was that?”

“It’s—” Taehyung looks over his shoulder, eyes dark. “It’s ‘cause hyung asked me to.”

Yoongi feels his cock twitching inside his trousers. He smiles, warm satisfaction blooming in his chest. “That’s right. You’ll do what hyung says, won’t you?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers.

“Can you get up?” Yoongi asks, and Taehyung nods. “On the bed, bent over the pillows.”

Yoongi stands as well once he’s sure that Taehyung can make it on the mattress, and moves to the other side of the room. He glances towards the bed, and sees that Taehyung is already bent over the pillows he stacked in the center of the bed, his belly pressed over them, the side of his face resting on the bed sheets. Like this, he can’t see him, so Yoongi picks up the spreader bar from inside a drawer, and climbs over the bed, kneeling behind Taehyung. “Color.”

“Green,” Taehyung replies, his voice steady but quiet.

“Last time you mentioned you find it hard to give up your control easily.” Yoongi rubs a hand over the side of Taehyung’s thigh. “It’s a mental block, but I also think it’s because you worry too much about what your body does. That you focus too much on keeping still, or on how you move, and that keeps you from letting go.”

Taehyung tries looking behind him, but in his current position, it is impossible.

“So let’s get rid of that problem.” Yoongi taps his palm over Taehyung’s thigh. “Spread your legs for me. Not too much, like this, yes.”

Yoongi secures the first cuff at the end of the spreader bar to Taehyung’s thigh. When he tightens it, Taehyung makes a noise. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“No, tell me.” Yoongi leans to the side, trying to catch Taehyung’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

“I just—” Taehyung sighs. “It’s tight.”

“Too tight?”

“No, just tight, I… fuck.” Taehyung lets out a quiet, almost shy laughter. “I liked—how it felt.”

Yoongi hums. He strokes down Taehyung’s thigh, feeling the supple flesh give when the leather closes around it. “Did it hurt?”

“Just a little.”

“Is that so?” Yoongi smirks. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He works the other cuff, closing it around Taehyung’s thigh and pulling at the strap. Taehyung makes that noise again, toes curling. Then, he relaxes minutely, sinking heavier into the pillows.

For a few moments, Yoongi only strokes his hands over Taehyung’s back, following the arch of his spine and the curve of his hips. With each caress, up and down, his hands inch closer to Taehyung’s ass, until his fingers start rubbing around his hole. Taehyung’s hips shift, breaths coming out of him faster, his hole clenching whenever Yoongi’s fingers grace around it.

But instead of pressing inside, Yoongi removes his hands completely. Instead, he reaches for the bar hanging between Taehyung’s thighs and holds it tightly before he pulls at the ends to the side with one quick move. The bar spreads, forcing Taehyung’s legs further apart.

“Fuck,” Taehyung gasps, the tip of his cock shiny with precum. “Hyung.”

“You’re alright.” Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment, letting the adrenaline and thrill settle into him. “All spread open for hyung. Your cock is so wet.” Yoongi reaches for it, kneading the leaking tip between his fingers and grinning when Taehyung keens, voice deep and heavy. “Can’t hide anywhere, can you?”

Taehyung gasps at his words, cock twitching, his arms straining against the cuffs over the small of his back. 

“It’s alright to like that,” Yoongi murmurs, still teasing Taehyung’s cockhead as he brings his free hand to prod at Taehyung’s hole. “Knowing that you can’t hide. That you can’t pull away. Let yourself feel that, Taehyung.” He pushes two fingers inside Taehyung, the slide easy and wet. “You’re helpless right now.”

This time when Taehyung moans, it’s unmistakable and loud. He tightens around Yoongi’s fingers, his thighs trembling. 

“Good,” Yoongi says, quiet and pleased, dragging his fingers over Taehyung’s walls. Then, he pulls out, and Taehyung whines, hips bucking up, searching for more. “Be patient.”

He twists around and reaches for the discarded bottle of lube and for the vibrator. He pours some lube over the toy, then spreads it with his hand, feeling the bulging, rounded tip under his fingers. 

He knows Taehyung has used sex toys before, he had written so in the form, but only by himself, never letting someone else fuck him with a vibrator or a dildo.

The controlling part of Yoongi, the one he’s feeding now, thrives off knowing that he’s the first to do this with Taehyung.

“Hyung’s going to make you feel good now,” Yoongi says, pressing the vibrator against Taehyung’s hole. His hole clenches at the feeling, and then his whole body relaxes. “Oh, you want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Hyung, please,” Taehyung keens, arching his back. “Wanna come.”

“You will.” Yoongi starts pushing the toy inside. He meets barely any resistance, so he pushes it deeper, watching Taehyung’s hole stretching around the shape. “Greedy fucking hole.”

Taehyung whimpers, his nape flushing red, fingers digging into his own palms. 

Yoongi pushes the toy deep inside Taehyung, letting go of the handle and watching as Taehyung’s hole clenches around it, lube sliding down his ass and legs. 

Taehyung shudders, hips jerking.

“Tell me how you feel,” Yoongi says, reaching for the remote he kept in the pocket of his trousers.

“Good,” Taehyung replies, voice unsteady. “F-full.”

“Do you like that? Feeling full?”

“Yes, hyung.”

“Maybe next time hyung will use something bigger, then.”

Before Taehyung can reply, Yoongi presses the button on the remote. 

The moment the vibrations start, Taehyung cries out loud, and high and startled, his voice melting into a deep moan as the shock fades and pleasure washes over him. 

“Fuck, Taehyung, look at you,” Yoongi croons, stroking Taehyung’s inner thigh. “You’re so good for me.”

Taehyung’s back arches, his knees sliding over the bed sheets as if he tried to move them, forgetting he wasn’t able to. He keeps making these drawn-out, low moans, and when Yoongi leans to the side to look at him he sees that Taehyung’s eyes are closed, his lips parted.

He looks lovely, he looks stunning. He looks lost in the pleasure.

Yoongi wants him to fall deeper.

He presses the remote again and the vibrator buzzes louder.

“Haah, hyung,” Taehyung whimpers, toes curling. “Feels g-good.”

Yoongi breathes in. His cock is so hard in his trousers, untouched and twitching, but it doesn’t matter. This, seeing Taehyung finally losing some of his control, is so much better.

Reaching for the vibrator, Yoongi pulls it back, hissing when Taehyung’s hole stretches around the bulging tip. He pushes it back inside in one hard thrust, humming when Taehyung moans deep and rich. Soon, he sets a steady pace, fucking Taehyung with the vibrator deep and hard. 

And with each minute that passes, Taehyung’s voice grows louder, his sounds lewder, fully out of his control.

“That’s it,” Yoongi says, watching the vibrator slide inside Taehyung’s hole, then out. “Just feel good, Taehyung.”

Taehyung just lays there, bent over the pillows, writhing with every hard thrust of the vibrator, whimpering and moaning. His body keeps shuddering over, jerking into spasms and twitches he can’t control. Between Taehyung’s thighs, his cock hands hard and heavy, untouched, a string of precum from the tip.

Yoongi twists the vibrator, pushes, and Taehyung sobs, “Hyung, please!”

“You can come,” Yoongi says. “I never said you couldn’t.”

“No, not—can’t!” Taehyung’s arms struggle against the cuffs. “Can’t come if—touch me? Please—ah, fuck—touch me.”

Yoongi glances at Taehyung’s cock. He fucks him faster with the vibrator. “I don’t think I will.”

“Please,” Taehyung gasps, pushing his hips back into Yoongi’s thrust. 

“You’ll come untouched, or you won’t come at all.” Yoongi trails his fingers over Taehyung’s trembling thigh. “And you will come just from this, Taehyung. Because I’m telling you to.”

Taehyung shakes his head, hips bucking. “No, please, I can’t—”

“Color.”

“Green,” Taehyung moans, voice breaking.

Yoongi kneels up and reaches for Taehyung’s hair, grabbing it. He tugs Taehyung’s head back, and Taehyung fucking moans the lewdest, most strangled noise yet.

“If you’re green,” Yoongi says, voice quiet and his heart pounding. “You’re gonna do as I fucking say.”

“Yes,” Taehyung cries. “Yes, please, I’ll be good.”

Yoongi lets go of him, rubbing his fingers around Taehyung’s nape. “Good boy.”

This time, he fucks the vibrator into Taehyung’s hole at a harsh, fast pace. Taehyung’s body fully melts at this, legs almost giving out and his cock jumping with each thrust, his voice a garbled, wet cry. 

Yoongi changes the angle of the vibrator just as he pushes on the remote again. Taehyung thrashes, wrists pulling at his cuffs. “Gonna come, gonna—”

One last thrust and Taehyung’s moan breaks into a sob as he comes, untouched and overwhelmed, his cock spilling over the bedsheets. 

“Good,” Yoongi croons, his body thrumming. He slows down his thrusts, but lets Taehyung ride it, wanting to draw this orgasm out for him as much as possible. “Like that.”

Taehyung’s moans linger, high and hoarse until they turn into whimpers. 

Yoongi turns off the vibrator then, dropping the remote on the mattress. Carefully, he pulls out the toy and Taehyung sinks over the pillows, his face pressed into the mattress.

“You did so well.” Yoongi drops the vibrator to the side. “Gonna take these off you, yes?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers after a moment.

Yoongi glances at him. His eyes are still closed, his mouth bitten red, parted around shallow, quick breaths.

Yoongi loosens the cuffs first, dropping them on the bed. Then he gets to the spreader bar, putting that aside as well. The moment it’s gone, Taehyung collapses on his side, curling around the pillows he was laying on. And like this, Yoongi can see his face better, and—this is nothing like their first time, Taehyung’s expression is absolutely blissed out. Yoongi watches him for a moment, his eyes traveling over his flushed body and down to his thighs, where the cuffs left neat, red marks around his tanned skin. 

“Are we—” Taehyung fits an arm under one of the pillows, bringing it closer to him. “Are we done?”

Yoongi halts. He looks at Taehyung, at the state of him, and then realizes, with warm excitement, that Taehyung is still hard. “Do you want to be done?”

Taehyung groans, hugging the pillow against him and burying his face against it.

There’s this split second where Yoongi considers dropping this whole thing about not fucking his clients and take Taehyung right here and now. Then, he collects himself. “If you wanna come again, you should ask me.” He slides his hand over Taehyung’s thigh, slowly pushing it to the side. Taehyung’s cock gives a weak twitch. “You should ask nicely.”

Taehyung holds the pillow tighter, and tilts his head to look at him, and he’s so soft like this, pliant, easy. “C-can I come again?” Quieter, he adds, “Please.”

To think that last time Taehyung was struggling so much with more than one orgasm… and now he’s already begging for more. 

By the next session, Yoongi wants this boy ruined.

“Because you asked so nicely,” Yoongi says, taking Taehyung’s wet dick in his hand. “Consider this a reward.”

The first stroke is slow, and with barely any pressure. Still, Taehyung’s eyes roll back, his back arches, fingers sinking into the pillow. “Ah, fuck—hyung, I—”

“Does it hurt?” Yoongi asks, voice soft, his fingers tightening around the tip of Taehyung’s dick. “You must be so sensitive, mh?”

“Hurts,” Taehyung moans, hips pushing slowly into Yoongi’s fist. “Haah—it hurts, feels g-good.”

“Does it hurt or does it feel good?” Yoongi asks, hoping for a specific answer, fucking begging for it—

“Don’t know,” Taehyung gasps, his head dropping back on the bed. “B-both, I don’t—gonna come.”

Yoongi swallows, mouth suddenly dry. He had an inkling that pain was something Taehyung enjoys, but he’s not even sure if Taehyung is aware of that. “Good boy, let go.”

One more stroke and Yoongi’s thumb pressing over the slit of his cock and Taehyung comes again, almost soundless, his voice a broken, quiet cry, his body shuddering through it, cum dribbling over Yoongi’s knuckles. 

“There we go,” Yoongi murmurs when Taehyung starts squirming and frowning, his expression shifting into something tight. He lets go of him, wiping his hand over the bedsheets. 

After a few moments, Taehyung sighs, eyes fluttering closed and legs pulling together. “Thank you.”

“You’re unreal, y’know?” Yoongi muses, his fingers skimming once more over the reddened area of Taehyung’s thighs. Maybe he’s a bit obsessed with how they look.

He wonders… no, he’s sure of it, that Taehyung would look like a dream all bruised up. 

Taehyung makes an inquisitive sound, trying to turn around, but Yoongi stops him, placing a hand over his hip. “Just lay down. I’ll get something to clean you up.”

“Can—” Taehyung frowns. “Can you stay? Just a moment?”

“Yeah, of course.” Yoongi looks at him. “Are you alright?”

Taehyung hums, eyes blinking open. “I think—I wanna shower, but I don’t feel like I can move right now.”

“There’s also a bathtub you can use if you’d prefer that.”

“‘kay.” Taehyung then lets out a quiet chuckle. “I feel so good right now.”

Yoongi smiles at this. He leaves his hand over Taehyung’s hip, pressing circles over the heated skin. “I’m glad. Cold?”

“No.”

“Then I’ll stay until you feel like getting up.” He adds, “You’ve been really good, Taehyung. Really good.”

Taehyung’s grin widens, and he rubs his cheek over the bedsheets, content and sated. 

In the end, Taehyung opts for the shower instead and Yoongi waits for him in the small living room, brewing more tea and with a piece of chocolate ready. Taehyung emerges from the bathroom with damp hair and skin flushed from the heat, clad in a bathrobe Yoongi gave him and he drops onto the couch with a deep sigh.

“I smell tea.”

“Made some more.” Yoongi brings the cup of tea to the living room, setting it on the coffee table. “Eat this too.”

Taehyung, still a little dazed maybe, just opens his mouth. Yoongi snorts but pushes the piece of chocolate between his lips anyway. Then he goes to collect a soothing lotion from the bedroom before joining Taehyung on the couch. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung lifts up his arms and lets Yoongi massage the lotion on his wrists. “Yoongi-ssi, you’re like—really caring.”

“I mean, I’d hope most people who do what I do are as caring,” he replies. “Aftercare is important.”

“Yeah, but I think you’re this caring even when it’s not in situations like these.”

Yoongi doesn’t confirm nor deny this. He’s—alright, he guesses. A decent human being. Probably. Or at least he hopes so.

“I liked today’s scene,” Taehyung says then.

“I’m glad. I’m happy with how it went, too. You were able to let go,” Yoongi says, smiling at him before letting go of his wrists. “Legs too, please.”

Taehyung stretches out his legs over Yoongi’s lap, looking somewhat embarrassed by this, but he relaxes once Yoongi starts applying the lotion to the marks on his thighs. “I still kind of…ended up reeling back when it felt like I wasn’t in control.”

“That’s alright, you’ll get there. Tell me what you liked in particular.” Yoongi grins. “Though I feel like I already know.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but there’s a smile on his face. “I liked not being able to move.”

“Mmh.”

“And I liked that you were meaner.” A pause. “You could… be meaner.”

Yoongi is starting to get a very clear idea of the kind of mean Taehyung is looking for, and the thought sends a spark of excitement through him. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Once he’s done with the lotion, he taps lightly over Taehyung’s knee, and Taehyung pulls his legs back.

“And also when—” Taehyung hesitates. He reaches for his cup of tea and takes a few sips. “When you pulled my hair.”

Yoongi nods. “What did you like about it?”

“Just—how it felt.” Taehyung then straightens up, eyes bright. “I have a question.”

“Sure.”

“This is gonna sound weird, but when you sent me the email a friend of mine was there. He’s also the one who introduced me to the website, and he has a lot more experience than me, so he ended up reading the email with me. And he said something.” Taehyung tilts his head to the side. “What’s a pleasure dom?”

Yoongi blinks. “Did he say I was?”

“Kind of.”

“He’s not… wrong, not fully at least.” Yoongi leans back, crossing his arms over his stomach. “I don’t need sex during the scenes. I get my pleasure from making you or any other submissive feel good. Your pleasure is mine, too. That’s a general idea, although it’s more complicated than that and—do you want me to send you some articles about this? If you’re curious, those would do a much better job at explaining it than me.”

Taehyung nods, lips pressed together and fingers tapping over the cup. “Thanks.” After a brief silence, Taehyung asks, “How many other subs are you working with? Not that you have to answer, I’m just—”

“Curious?” Yoongi smirks, earning himself a weak glare from Taehyung. “Currently, including you, it’s three.”

Taehyung hums. From behind his cup, he says, “You sure got your hands full.”

Yoongi snorts, looking away. “It’s probably going to be just you and another person soon, my third client will move cities in three weeks.” 

“When can we meet again?”

“If you’re free, I can see you directly next week. On Friday, same time as today.”

“That works.” Taehyung puts down the mug. “Do you already have something in mind?”

“I have some ideas. Do you?” Yoongi asks and Taehyung shakes his head. “Then I’ll come up with something, and send you the details as usual.”

“Ah, I also—” Taehyung clears his throat and then gestures towards the kitchenette. “Your payment. I left it there.”

Yoongi twists around and spots a small, white envelope in the middle of the table. “You… put it in an envelope?”

“Just the money would look rude,” Taehyung replies in a murmur, looking at his lap.

“That’s kind of sweet.”

“You’re making fun of me again.”

“Taehyung-ssi is just very polite,” Yoongi replies, amused and endeared. “Finish your tea, and when you’re ready you can get dressed. And then I’ll see you next week.”

Taehyung breathes in, deeply, and then lets out a sigh. “Yes, you will.”

Chapter Text

Taehyung walks out of the shower feeling groggy and in need of a few extra hours of sleep.

Last night's rehearsals lasted up until one in the morning and by the time he got home and crashed on his bed, it was so late that Taehyung passed out before he even hit the pillow. But the worst part is that his neighbors yelling at each other again (those two should genuinely consider just getting a divorce) woke him up at barely six in the morning. No matter how he tossed and turned, Taehyung just never managed to fall asleep again and, in the end, just admitted defeat and decided to take a shower, in the hope that the water would either relax him or give him some energy. It did neither of those things.

Glancing at the clock, Taehyung sees that it’s still eight in the morning. Rehearsals today don’t start until eleven, so he finds himself with way too much time to spare. He ends up making himself breakfast, going as far as cooking some eggs to have on toast (extra protein should fuel him up, right?), and then brews some tea. Next time he sees Yoongi he should ask him for the brand of the tea he makes, ‘cause the one he’s drinking right now doesn’t taste nearly as good.

Despite his generous and lengthy breakfast, by the time he’s done with it barely half an hour has passed. With a sigh, Taehyung stretches his back, arching over the chair’s backrest, and then breaks into a long yawn.

He could take a walk? But he’s feeling so lazy today, and tired after the terrible sleep he got during the night.

Then, he remembers something. Just after rehearsals were over last night, he noticed a text from Yoongi. He hadn’t checked it then, too tired and sleepy, but it’s not like he was in a rush now. 

He quickly cleans up the kitchen, then walks back to his room and grabs his phone, finally opening Yoongi’s texts.

FROM: Min Yoongi

Taehyung-ssi, sorry for the late hour

About your questions, I found some articles and

blog posts that could answer it better than me

LINK

LINK

LINK

Hope these are helpful, I will soon send you an email 

for our next scene

That last text sends a spark of excitement down Taehyung’s back. 

The last session was—good. Like, really good. Taehyung feels like he’s never fully able to explain to Yoongi just how good the scenes he comes up with are, and just how good Taehyung felt. He should work on that, maybe. 

Taehyung knows that it’s only been two scenes and that he still has a long way to go, but he wishes he could tell Yoongi just how much those two scenes have helped him already. Taehyung can’t remember the last time he’s had orgasms that left him so—sated isn’t the right word; more like absolutely wiped out blank.

He’s had his fair share of experiences despite having never actually, well, had sex with someone. And it’s not like penetrative sex is the only way someone can have sexual relationships, but it’s still something Taehyung wants. And all of those experiences, the quick handjobs in a club, the slow, deep blowjobs, the extremely mild kinks he tried out with willing partners, were all fine. They felt good, and for a while felt enough. 

Now that Taehyung knows how he could feel, though—how he gets to feel— he realizes that he will never have enough. That he craves more. That he wants Yoongi to overwhelm him with pleasure, with the burn of it, with the feeling of absolute helplessness when he’s tied up, when he’s toyed with.

Taehyung clears his throat, ignoring the heat that crawled up his neck, and opens the first link Yoongi sent him.

The first one is an article about the roles of dominants and submissives that goes into detail about certain specific dynamics. Taehyung reads through it, and then goes back up to the top, reading a paragraph one more time. 

A submissive consensually agrees to give up control and surrender and submit to the direction, guidance, and control of the dominant. Submissives typically feel empowered by surrendering and giving up control during a scene. 

Surrendering requires trust and comes with vulnerability.

Taehyung heaves a sigh.

That’s what he’s struggling with, isn’t he?

From the very first scene, Taehyung immediately felt inclined to give up his control, to trust Yoongi, and at the same time, the thought scared him enough to make him stiff. It was easier during the second scene, but even then he knows he reeled back the moment he felt like completely letting go of himself and trusting Yoongi to take care of him. Not just his pleasure, not just his body, him. 

But maybe he’ll get there. Yoongi told him he’d help him, and Yoongi is—great. Patient, nice, and caring even in those moments when he was assertive and demanding.

Taehyung exits the page and opens the second link.

This is a blog post on a BDSM forum that goes into detail about the different types of dominants and subs. It’s an interesting read, and Taehyung mentally tries remembering some terms that spike his interest. He highly doubts he’d ever be able to be a brat, but the idea of being put in his place is—interesting.

Then, he gets to the final link.

Here, Taehyung finds a more specific answer to his question. 

Yoongi was right about his explanation, sure, but this goes into detail. It’s interesting to read about how the term “pleasure dom” isn’t even fully recognized in the BDSM community, as it might lack the power exchange, but Taehyung frowns at that. Wouldn’t it still require that kind of exchange? Trust is required for something like this too, especially when he reads through some of the things a pleasure dom enjoys. 

There are more links in that section of the article specifically. Taehyung clicks on them.

And then on other links.

And then on some more.

There is just… a lot. A lot of things he never considered before, a lot of things that he’d like to try, and so many fucking ideas that are stirring around in his head. 

He knows that in the form he wrote he was very interested in edging, but they still haven’t done that yet, but in general, the idea of giving up the control he has over his orgasms is good. 

Screw that, it sounds great.

Without realizing it, as he reads through the various pages he stumbles on, Taehyung brings a hand between his legs, palming over his sweatpants. He only registers what he’s doing when a pang of arousal shudders through him, his cock hardening under the soft fabric.

He keeps reading through descriptions of certain practices and kinks, sometimes having to read the same sentence twice. Soon enough, Taehyung drops his phone and slides his hand under the waistband of his sweatpants, fingers grazing over his growing erection.

How many times would Yoongi edge him? Would he even be interested? So far, he’s never kept Taehyung from coming, quite the opposite actually. But maybe he’d like that.

Maybe he’d tie Taehyung again, he’d keep his legs spread, he’d touch him and touch him until Taehyung was just on the edge, and then he’d let go. Would Taehyung whine? Cry? Beg?

“Fuck,” Taehyung groans, his fist closing around his cock. 

Would Yoongi laugh at him? Or would he be kind? Taehyung kind of wants him to make fun of him. 

What about that other thing he read—forced orgasms? Yoongi did overstimulate him, but at one point it was clear that Taehyung couldn’t have come again. But what if—what if Yoongi just made him?

Taehyung moans at the thought, stroking his cock fast, tight. His head fills with disjointed images, and fantasies that he clings onto. Him, tied and pinned to the mattress, shaking, fucking sobbing as the pleasure leaves him and is replaced only by that sharp burn of too much. And Yoongi staring at him with those sharp, dark eyes, grinning, mouth pink and lovely, his hands stimulating his oversensitive cock. And then his voice, deep, and warm, as he tells him, “Give hyung another, Taehyung, you know you want it, you can’t help it, just do as I say and—”

Taehyung comes with a gasp, his back arching over the bed. Automatically, he slaps a hand over his own mouth, muffling his cries, still so self-conscious about the noises he makes as he spills over his fist and belly, his orgasm washing over him in slow waves.

“Shit.” Taehyung breathes out, looking down at the mess he made. He’s going to need another shower before rehearsals, and—

Wait.

“ Fuck! ” Taehyung rolls around, looking at the clock: it’s half past ten. 

He’s going to be late for rehearsals. Because he’s a damn idiot.

“Alright, take five, then back from scene nine.” Seokjin rolls his shoulders and stands up. “Daddy needs a damn cigarette.”

“Don’t ever call yourself that again,” Jimin mutters, rubbing a hand over his face. 

Seokjin, the face of a god and the directing abilities of also a god, flips Jimin off before joining two cast members and leaving the white, sterile rehearsal room to go out in the small backyard for a smoke.

Taehyung stretches his shoulders and neck, groaning quietly. They’ve been doing reads of the script for the past two hours and it’s doing a number on his body. “I can’t fucking wait until we move to rehearse on stage.”

“Yeah,” Jimin replies, before smiling at two cast members as they leave for a coffee. “Just one more week, though. We’re almost there.” Then, he turns the chair around and grins, ear to ear. “You were late today.”

Taehyung hums. “Overslept.”

“Your eyebags tell another story. Were you with him?”

Taehyung stares at him, unimpressed. “At eight in the morning? Obviously not.”

“Then why were you late? You’re never late.”

Taehyung grimaces. He looks around the room and realizes that they’re alone. Leaning in, he says, “Don’t you dare make fun of me.”

“I’d never.”

“Yoongi-ssi sent me some links after I asked him about… stuff.”

Jimin frowns. “What kinda stuff?”

“Oh my—guess, Jimin.” Taehyung clears his throat. “Whatever. I just-just got really fucking horny.”

“Oh my god, you were late because you were jacking off.”

“Shut up!” Taehyung hisses. “But also, yes.”

“Amazing. This is amazing.”

“You said you wouldn’t make fun of me!”

“God, look at you,” Jimin giggles, clearly delighted. “To think that until last month you were so stiff about this stuff. And now you’re allowing yourself to be late just so you can masturbate. That’s incredible. If I ever meet this Min Yoongi I’m gonna shake his hand.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, slumping into the chair. He doesn’t regret telling Jimin about Yoongi, he and Jimin have known each other for a literal decade and secrets just aren’t a thing (especially after that time, two years ago, when he and Jimin spent a whole month messing around, having fun, making out the second they got the chance), but it’s still not easy for Taehyung to openly talk about his sex life.

Jimin has always been the one who never shied away from sex, the one who jumped head first into BDSM during their first year of college. The reason Taehyung knows Jungkook at all is thanks to Jimin, who met him first at a fetish club and then introduced him to Taehyung.

Neither of them told them how they actually met until a year later, though, which was what inevitably got Taehyung curious, and—well, here he is now.

Both of them played a huge part in Taehyung’s decision to actually go through with contacting Yoongi and, secretly, he’s endlessly thankful.

“Are you busy tonight?” Taehyung asks then, desperate to change the subject. “Wanna come over for dinner?”

“Can’t. Have a date.”

Taehyung looks at him. “Oh? Who?”

“Met him on that website I told you about.”

Taehyung grimaces. “I still can’t believe you’re actually trusting strangers like that.”

“As long as you’re careful.” Jimin shrugs. “I’ve been on that website for a while and by now I can recognize creeps just by their bios. All the people I met were great.” Then, after a pause, he adds, “Also, I’m not hearing this from you, Mr. I-pay-a-stranger-to-fuck-me-up.”

Taehyung gives him the middle finger and Jimin just kisses him on the cheek. “Just be careful, Jimin.”

“Always am! Let’s have dinner together tomorrow, mh?”

“Sure,” Taehyung answers. “What’s the name of this person you’re meeting?”

“Hoseok.” Jiming rests his chin over the back of his hand, grinning wide. “Such a pretty rope bunny.”

“Okay, shut up right now, I don’t want to know.”

Seokjin and the rest of the ensemble walk in at that moment. “Alright, let's get this show on the road. Not, like, literally, but you know what I mean. Scene nine, from the top.”

By the time rehearsals are done, Taehyung is hungry and feels like treating himself.

He auditioned for the main role and was given, instead, the one of the villain and at first, it sucked. Taehyung had never played such a role before, the one of a cunning, manipulating man who, slowly but surely, seduces the main character into succumbing to his darker desires, inevitably sending them both to their demise. But the more he rehearsed, the more Seokjin (who’s a fucking miracle when it comes to directing) helped him understand the role, and the more Taehyung fell for his character.

And today he did great, and he worked hard, and he deserves something nice. So on the way home, he buys some takeout and a decent bottle of red wine and spends the rest of the evening lounging on his couch, getting drunk by himself. 

This is probably the reason why, when later into the evening he receives Yoongi’s email and he reads through the planned scene, Taehyung ends up moaning into his pillow again, fucking into his own fist.

╭─────╮

“I’m not doing it,” Yoongi says, phone pressed between his ear and shoulder. 

“Oh, come on, hyung,” Namjoon whines, as if he’s not a grown fucking man. “Just once!”

“Nope.” Yoongi squints his eyes, staring at the tools he prepared over the bed. He swears something is missing. “I don’t do public plays anymore, and both you and the club’s owners need to accept it.”

“They would pay you so much.”

“I don’t need money.” Seriously, what is missing? Cuffs are there, the rope too, and so are the vibrators. “You do it.”

“Hyung,” Namjoon sighs and his voice sounds metallic on the phone’s speaker. “I don’t know if my boyfriend would be comfortable with me doing a public scene.”

“He’s fine with you still working for other subs, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but this is different.”

“Look, I can’t talk right now. I have a scene in like, ten minutes, and you’re distracting me. Either way, I’m not doing it.” Yoongi takes the phone and says, “Bye, Joon-ah.”

“Hyung, just w—”

Yoongi ends the call and pockets his phone. So now, on top of the incessant emails from that club, he also has to deal with Namjoon begging him to do public plays. Great. And why does Namjoon even care at all?

“What am I forgetting?” Yoongi whispers to himself, eyes raking over the tools. “Ah.”

Yoongi walks to the dresser and opens the first drawer. On its side there’s a row of silken bands of various colors and, for a while, he stares at them. Most colors suit Taehyung, his skin is stunning, but what would really stand out?

In the end, he picks the emerald green one and hums, satisfied, before closing the drawer and rolling the fabric neatly. He puts it in the pocket of his loose slacks and walks back to the kitchenette.

His week has been busy, both with his normal job and this. He had his final scene with Daeseong, who will move to Daegu next week, and just yesterday he had a lengthy scene with Byungho. Both went well, of course, but Yoongi is not going to lie and pretend he’s not been looking forward to today’s appointment with Taehyung.

He’s known Byungho and Daeseong for years. He knows them, fully, knows what they like, what they want. But Taehyung is still a mystery, still hasn’t fully let go, and is still learning and discovering himself.

He guesses that’s the thrill of it. The novelty. He never trained a sub before, after all.

Yoongi is just done brewing the tea when there’s a knock at the door. 

Today, Taehyung looks slightly winded, and still heavily covered from head to toe. “Somehow it’s even colder than last time, huh?” He says, stepping aside to let Taehyung in.

“Yeah,” Taehyung chuckles, unrolling his long scarf. “I’m not late, am I? I came straight from rehearsals.”

“No, don’t worry.” Closing the door, Yoongi goes to fill two cups with tea and sets them on the table before sitting. “How have you been?”

“Very well, thank you.” Taehyung folds his coat, leaving it on the sofa, and joins Yoongi at the table. “Busy. You?”

“Busy,” Yoongi replies with a smile. For a while, he looks at Taehyung as he drinks his tea. There’s a certain—energy to him today. Something that has Taehyung’s shoulders relaxed and his eyes are bright. “You look excited.”

Taehyung blinks, fingers tightening around the porcelain cup. “I—you noticed?”

“Mh, I did. But noticing things is part of what I do.” Yoongi takes a sip of his tea, and adds, “I’m excited too.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything for a while, slowly drinking the tea and stealing glances here and then. “You…are?”

“Very.” Yoongi grins, feeling already pleasantly entertained. “I think today will teach me plenty of things about you.”

Taehyung does that pout again, light and barely there, and it really shouldn’t make Yoongi want to spoil this guy, but—well, Yoongi has never been someone who fights his urges much.

“But I’m glad you’re excited too,” Yoongi says. “As usual, I want to confirm you’re comfortable with everything I wrote.”

Taehyung nods. “I am, yes.”

“Since today will be a bit different from today, I want to stress how important it is that you always remember that one word from you and we can stop.”

Taehyung smiles. “I know.”

“Good.” Yoongi leans back into the chair and rolls his neck. As he does, a strand of hair falls over his eye and he moves it back with a groan. “I need to cut it.”

Taehyung makes an inquisitive sound, then asks, “You mean your hair?”

“I let it grow too much, I think.”

Taehyung hums and then looks down at his cup. “I think it suits you.” Then, he brings the cup to his mouth, barely sipping any tea.

Huh.

Yoongi guesses he can keep it at this length for a while longer.

Taehyung’s shower is longer this time. Probably because he had to come here directly from rehearsals, so he didn’t have time to prepare himself or to unwind. 

So Yoongi waits for him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed.

When Taehyung walks in, clad in a white robe, he is quick to kneel in front of Yoongi, hands over his lap, a pretty color to his cheeks.

“Color, Taehyung?”

“Green.”

Yoongi nods but doesn’t move. “Come here.”

Taehyung blinks, then frowns, eyes darting to the bed.

“Not there.” Yoongi points to his own legs. “ Here. ”

Taehyung holds his breath, eyes going wide. For a moment, just one, he squeezes his legs together. Then, he stands up and, looking at everything but Yoongi, climbs over his lap, knees on the mattress. 

Yoongi hums before grabbing the back of his thighs and abruptly scooting back so that he’s sitting fully on the bed. As he does, Taehyung loses his balance and ends up fully sitting over Yoongi’s lap, his ass pressed to Yoongi’s thighs. 

“Like this,” Yoongi murmurs. “You can touch my shoulders, nothing else.”

“Yes,” Taehyung breathes, but his arms stay by his sides, his eyes cast sideways. 

Oh? Is he embarrassed? “Taehyung, look at me.”

There’s a quiet whine that bubbles in Taehyung’s throat, but in the end, he looks Yoongi in the eyes. 

“Are you uncomfortable?” Yoongi asks, setting his hands over Taehyung’s hips. Taehyung shakes his head wordlessly. “Then are you just being shy?” At this, Taehyung blushes, eyes almost fluttering closed. “No need to be shy. Save that for later.”

Before Taehyung can react, Yoongi reaches between their bodies and undoes the belt that keeps Taehyung’s robe closed. It slides open, falling at the sides. Taehyung’s cock is hardening, still half-soft between his thighs. Yoongi pays it no mind, and instead brings his hands down from his hips to his thighs, fingers squeezing around them. Taehyung breathes out, sitting heavier over his lap. Was he still holding himself up by a fraction?

Still too focused on his body, Yoongi thinks, stroking up Taehyung’s thighs, I need to work on this.

For a while, this is all he does. He explores Taehyung’s body silently, bringing his hands all the way down to his knees, where they fold over the mattress, then up again. He traces the curves of Taehyung’s waist, fingers pressing into the softer flesh of his hips. Taehyung makes a quiet noise at this, something lovely and pleased. Then up, to his ribs, over his shoulders where Yoongi pushes the robe off of him completely. 

“You—” Yoongi blinks, taking in Taehyung’s sight. The light flush over his chest, the rise, and fall of it. “You really are beautiful.”

Taehyung’s breath leaves him in a slow exhale. “Thank you.”

“I really am lucky.” Yoongi moves a hand down to Taehyung’s chest. “Are you sensitive here?”

Taehyung swallows visibly. “I don’t know.”

“You never touch your nipples?” Yoongi asks, looking at him. “No one ever touched you here?”

“Not really.”

Yoongi hums. “Well, that’s a shame.” He curves his hand behind Taehyung’s neck. “Let’s fix that.”

The first press of his fingers over Taehyung’s nipple is slow and easy. Taehyung doesn’t react much, nor does he protest. So Yoongi rolls it between two fingers, squeezing Taehyung’s chest, and this elicits a small sound. Glancing down, between their bodies, Yoongi sees Taehyung’s cock jumping and hardening with each slow roll of his fingers.

“You are sensitive,” Yoongi muses, looking back to Taehyung. “Are you just trying to be quiet again?”

Taehyung bites on his bottom lip, eyelids fluttering. “I’m sorry.”

“Say it again.”

Taehyung’s breath hitches. His hands, still not touching Yoongi, close into fists.

“Should I stop then?” Yoongi asks, lifting his fingers from Taehyung’s chest.

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung says immediately, his voice thick.

Yoongi nods and rubs his thumb over Taehyung’s nipple. “Why are you sorry?” 

“I’m s-sorry I’m trying to—” He closes his eyes when Yoongi gropes his chest, lips parting soundlessly. “That I’m trying to be quiet.”

Yoongi breathes in. Fuck, he’s easy today, isn’t he? Is it because he knows what will come next? Is Taehyung looking forward to it?

That just makes Yoongi want to tease him more.

He moves his hand from Taehyung’s nape to his hair, his finger still rubbing lazily over his nipple. “You’re going to be loud for me today, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Taehyung sighs, his hips jerking minutely.

“Good boy.” Then, Yoongi grabs Taehyung’s hair and pulls .

Taehyung’s head jerks back, the column of his throat flushed red, and he groans deep, long. Just then, Yoongi leans in and presses his tongue flat against Taehyung’s nipple. That’s when Taehyung finally moans and holds onto Yoongi’s shoulders.

“Hyung,” Taehyung gasps, back arching, chasing Yoongi’s mouth. “More.”

Yoongi tugs Taehyung’s again, forcing his head back even further. He feels Taehyung’s fingers digging into his shoulders, his body straining to keep balance. “What, now you tell me what to do?”

Taehyung’s hips twitch again. “Sorry, I’m sorry.”

“Again.”

“ Fuck— ” Taehyung swallows audibly. “I’m sorry.”

With that, Yoongi licks at Taehyung’s nipple again, around it, mouthing wetly at the heated skin of his chest while keeping Taehyung in the same strained, uncomfortable position. And it works, if Taehyung’s quick, broken breaths are anything to go by. Yoongi doesn’t need to check to know that Taehyung must be fully hard now, and he can feel his hips moving ever so gently, rolling over his lap uselessly, searching for pressure he can’t have.

So Yoongi laps at his nipple again and then, quick, he bites around it. Taehyung’s body shudders, and his voice comes out garbled and high. 

“Did that hurt?” Yoongi asks, eyeing the marks of his teeth on Taehyung’s chest with silent satisfaction.

“Yes,” Taehyung replies in a murmur.

“Thank me, then.”

Taehyung freezes. 

“Go on. You liked that, didn’t you? That it hurt.” Yoongi eases him back upright, letting go of his hair, and looking him in the eyes. “Be a good boy, Taehyung. Say it.”

One second is all it takes for Taehyung’s body to—to melt . He is heavy on Yoongi’s lap, pliant, when he whispers, “Thank you.”

Yoongi has to steel himself for a second; his mind is reeling with ideas, with what he could do to him like this, how far he could take it— but that’s not what they’d planned for today.

Another time, then.

For now, Yoongi sucks on Taehyung’s nipple and then pulls at it with his teeth, humming when Taehyung thanks him again, he bites at his chest until Taehyung’s moans turn into whimpers, soothes the sting with his tongue, with his mouth.

Soon, Taehyung is trembling over his lap, trying to squeeze his legs, squirming and moaning with every bite, with every press of Yoongi’s fingers. 

When he finally pulls away, Yoongi takes a moment to admire his work: he grazes the tips of his fingers over the marks left by his teeth, flicking at Taehyung’s swollen, hard nipple.

“Pretty,” Yoongi says, then leans back. Taehyung is staring at him with dark, lidded eyes, face stricken with arousal. Between their bodies, his cock hangs heavy and untouched. “Kneel on the bed for me, near that corner.”

Taehyung does as he’s told, struggling for a moment to move his legs. Once he’s settled in the spot Yoongi pointed at, he watches as Yoongi stands and grabs the leather handcuffs. 

Wordlessly, Taehyung lifts his wrists.

Yoongi huffs a laugh. “Good boy.” He secures the handcuffs, making sure they’re not too tight, then takes the blindfold too, showing it to Taehyung. “Your color?”

“Still green,” Taehyung replies after a moment.

“Close your eyes.”

Taehyung does. He doesn’t flinch when Yoongi ties the blindfold over his eyes, but he does release a quiet, almost shaky breath. 

“You’re alright,” Yoongi says, making sure his tone is soft now. It can be overwhelming to have your sight gone for the first time, and he wants to make this easy for Taehyung. “I’m never going to leave the room.”

Then, Yoongi takes the rope. He loops it inside the small ring attached to the middle of the handcuffs, then has to climb on the bed to fit it inside the hook attached to the ceiling. He’s glad the landlord never checks this place, ‘cause he’s pretty sure the guy would have his head if he saw this. 

Yoongi holds on to the rope and says, “Can you kneel up? Like that, yes.” Then, Yoongi pulls the rope down. 

Taehyung gasps when his arms are forced upwards, until they bend just above his jaw, but doesn’t try pulling them down. Yoongi secures the rope to the hook so that it stays in place, and so that Taehyung’s arms can’t go lower than this. 

Climbing down the bed, Yoongi paces for a moment around the corner of the bed where Taehyung is kneeling. 

And like this, Taehyung looks like a fucking dream: fully exposed, vulnerable, hard and panting, fingers twitching with each passing second of silence.

Yoongi strokes his palm over Taehyung’s side, grinning when he flinches at the sudden contact and then tries leaning into it. “Can’t go anywhere like this, can you?”

Taehyung presses his lips together, his cheeks darkening. 

“Can’t hide either,” Yoongi adds. “All mine to use.”

Taehyung makes a noise and his cock twitches.

“You’re so hard.” Yoongi presses the tip of his finger to Taehyung’s cockhead, and rubs it over the slit. “Are you liking this?”

“Y-yes,” Taehyung murmurs. He yelps when Yoongi reaches for his nipple again, pulling at it hard. Louder, he says, “ I like this .”

“Of course you do.” Yoongi walks to the front of the bed and takes the vibrators he had prepared earlier, and a roll of tape. He sets one of the toys by Taehyung’s knee, not yet needing it, then moves to stand in front of him.

He unwraps the tape, tearing two strips with his teeth. These are safe to use on bare skin, and won’t leave any marks nor will they hurt when ripped, and quickly he uses the tape to stick the two eggs to Taehyung’s nipples.

“Hyung?” Taehyung asks, tilting his head to the side. “What—”

“Quiet.” Yoongi glances at Taehyung and is pleased to see him bite down on his bottom lip at the order. The remote, attached to the two small vibrators, is also taped to Taehyung’s hip. “You’re going to be good for me today, aren’t you?”

“Yes, hyung.”

So Yoongi reaches for the taped remote and turns it on. 

Immediately, Taehyung cries out and tries pulling back, his body moving on instinct, but once it hits him that there is no getting away from the vibrations against his nipples, Taehyung arches forward, voice melting into a long, deep moan.

“Oh, that must hurt, huh?” Yoongi asks, reaching between Taehyung’s legs to give his cock two firm strokes. “You were so sensitive earlier.”

Just as Taehyung whines and tries chasing Yoongi’s touch, he removes his hand, leaving Taehyung to rut his hips into nothing. “Desperate and I barely started with you.”

Yoongi goes to grab the lube and throws it on the bed before sitting just behind Taehyung. Without a word, he grabs him by the hips and pulls him back. Taehyung goes easily, gasping when he’s suddenly moved and then whining quietly when he ends up having to hold onto the rope for support. 

“Deal with it.” Yoongi taps over the back of Taehyung’s thigh. “Spread your legs.”

“Gonna fall—”

“I don’t really care.”

Taehyung’s cock jumps, the tip shiny with precum. Slowly, with some difficulty, Taehyung manages to spread his legs further apart.

This guy, really—Yoongi can’t believe how lucky he got. 

“Good boy.” Yoongi coats his fingers with lube, warming them for a few moments. Then, he pushes one finger in and Taehyung clenches around it before relaxing, letting out a long breath. One finger quickly joins, then a third, and he knows he’s going fast, knows that the stretch must burn, but Taehyung takes them well, little breathy noises punched out of him with each thrust, with each deliberate press of them over his prostate. 

Yoongi licks his lips. “You know what I’ve been thinking, Taehyung?” He pulls his fingers out and grabs the second toy: a large silicone plug with a remote that sits snugly inside Yoongi’s pocket. “I think I’ve been too nice to you until now.”

Slowly, and firmly, Yoongi starts pushing the plug inside. Taehyung flinches at the feeling but then pushes into it, legs spreading even further.

“Look at you,” Yoongi breathes out, watching as the plug sinks deeper inside Taehyung. “Fucking swallowing it.”

“ Hyung ,” Taehyung moans weakly, thighs trembling when the plug settles deep and full.

Yoongi wets his lips and pats Taehyung’s ass twice. “Up you go.”

It’s not without some struggle that Taehyung manages to kneel up straight again, helping himself by holding onto the rope connected to his cuffs. Once he’s more comfortable, he takes a deep breath, rubbing his forehead against the cuffs. 

Yoongi moves to stand in front of him and he reaches for the remote taped to Taehyung’s hip and ups the vibrations. A quiet laugh escapes him when Taehyung flinches with a whine, the small eggs buzzing loudly against his nipples.

“Bet you’re loving it.” Yoongi strokes Taehyung’s waist, fingers light. “You should see how hard you are. Want me to touch it?”

Taehyung just rolls his hips in response, cock flushed and wet at the tip. 

“Use your words.”

“Please,” Taehyung begs, his voice unsteady. “Hyung, please touch it.”

“Good boy.” Yoongi wraps his hand around Taehyung’s cock, stroking it slowly, his grip tight. Taehyung lets out a relieved moan and, soon, he’s fucking into Yoongi’s fist with desperate, jerky rolls. “You know what you look like right now?” Twisting his wrist, Yoongi says, “You look like a slut.”

Taehyung shudders, his lips parting around a gasp. In Yoongi’s fist, his cock throbs and leaks a bead of precum. 

“Fuck,” Yoongi chuckles, chest hot. “Getting wet over that? You really are a slut, then.”

“ Hyung ,” Taehyung moans, cheek pressed against his forearm. 

“Say it.”

Taehyung’s fingers grab the rope again, tightening around it. His cheeks are flushed, his lips bitten red, his chest rising and falling quickly. “I—” He swallows, making a distressed little cry. “‘m a slut.”

Yoongi’s dick twitches in his slacks, and for a moment Yoongi is tempted to touch himself. “Whose slut?”

“Hyung’s slut,” Taehyung whispers after a moment.

Yoongi clicks his tongue, halting his strokes and gripping Taehyung’s cockhead hard. “I didn’t hear you.”

“I’m hyung’s slut,” Taehyung gasps, shuddering. “Please, don’t—stop, don’t stop. ”

“You wanna come?” He asks, moving his hand again and closing his eyes for a second when Taehyung moans deep from his chest. At the same time, he reaches for the plug’s remote in his pocket. “‘s that what you want?”

“Yes,” Taehyung cries, fucking into Yoongi’s hand faster, his knees sliding over the bed sheets. “Please, can I?”

“No.” Then, Yoongi turns on the plug.

 And Taehyung—he doesn’t scream, but it’s fucking close. 

Maybe it’s the shock because he didn’t know the plug could vibrate as well, or maybe it’s just pleasure, sudden and strong enough to keep him from holding back for once.

Whatever it is, it makes Yoongi bite off a moan of his own, his cock now straining uncomfortably against the fabric.

“No, please,” Taehyung whimpers, squirming. “Please, ‘m close—”

“No.” Yoongi removes his hand, ignoring Taehyung’s startled cry and staring at the way his body tries to chase his touch. “Not yet.”

Without his hand, and with the plug still at the lowest setting, Taehyung doesn’t come. His orgasm slips from him, pleasure ebbing, and he’s left gasping in the crook of his arm, the muscles of his thighs clenched.

Yoongi walks away at this, and sits down on the armchair, rolling the plug’s remote in his hand. “Good boy.” Then, after a second, “Color?”

“It’s green.” Taehyung swallows, neck shiny with sweat. 

“Do you feel good?”

Taehyung nods. 

“You’re too stiff,” Yoongi says, eyeing the arch of his back and the strain of his arms. “You’re gonna hurt yourself like that. Relax for me, just focus on feeling good.”

Taehyung frowns, but he hums quietly. Yoongi waits for him to slow down his breath and, eventually, his body loses tension. His legs spread further apart, arms finally relaxing. Slowly, gradually, Taehyung lets go. His head lolls back, moans breathy and long, his cock heavy and leaking, a string of precum dripping on the bed sheets.

This time, when Yoongi pushes on the plug’s remote again to up the vibrations, Taehyung doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t move, doesn’t try to shy away from the feeling; instead, he moans high and airy, body going pliant. 

“Good slut,” Yoongi says, smiling when Taehyung’s cock jumps at the praise. “Since you’re being so good, you get to come if you do it in ten seconds.”

“What?” Taehyung’s head straightens up. “Hyung, please—”

“Ten. Nine. Eight.” Yoongi grins, watching Taehyung grow more desperate with each second. His thighs clench, probably as he tightens around the plug, his back arching. “Three. Two. One.” Yoongi turns off the plug. “A shame.”

Taehyung chokes on a sob once the vibrations are gone, his hips rutting into nothing. “Hyung, n-no, please, I was close, please—”

“That’s not my problem, is it?” Yoongi stands up and stands in front of Taehyung. “A good slut knows how to come when told to.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything, his lip trapped under his own teeth. Yoongi reaches for the taped remote, upping the vibrations against Taehyung’s nipple twice. Taehyung jerks, whimpering; it really must hurt by now, and Yoongi considers if he should remove them—

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispers.

Oh.

Right. It hurts, and Taehyung likes it. Taehyung fucking loves it, doesn’t he?

“Fuck, Taehyung.” Yoongi wraps his arms around Taehyung’s waist, a hand reaching between his asscheeks. “You’re so good.”

“Hyu— ah! ” Taehyung jerks forward when Yoongi grabs the end of the plug and pulls at it before pushing it back in. “F-fuck, hyung—”

Yoongi hums, fucking Taehyung with the plug fast, pulling at it until he can feel Taehyung’s hole stretching around it and then thrusting it back in. “Ten seconds, come for hyung.”

Taehyung tenses then clenches around the plug, pushes against it, and tries arching for a better angle, desperate, wanton, his cock rubbing against Yoongi’s chest, catching on the fabric of his shirt.

Ten seconds go by, and Yoongi pushes the plug back inside before walking away.

“ Fuck, please, ” Taehyung sobs, pulling at the cuffs. “Wanna—wanna come, it hurts—”

“You like it when it hurts, don’t you?” Yoongi sits back on the armchair. He glances at the clock on the wall: they’ve been at it for twenty-five minutes now. “Should we try again?”

He turns the plug on again and laughs when Taehyung’s voice cracks.

Twelve more minutes go by.

Yoongi knows he’s being an asshole. But he also knows that Taehyung is fucking loving this.

He almost came five times. Always a second too late, always not fast enough, and each time Taehyung begged him, and cried, and was left hard, desperate and untouched.

Now, Taehyung looks wrecked. 

His legs gave out on him at one point, and now he’s fully sat on the bed, his arms held up high by the rope. He’s flushed everywhere, shiny with sweat, his head lolling to the side. And he hasn’t been able to stop moaning for a while now, his voice lingering even when the plug is turned off, his entire body alight with stimulus and pleasure.

Yoongi knows he can’t draw this on for much longer, but the temptation is there.

“Color, Taehyung?” He asks as he crouches in front of him.

“Green,” Taehyung slurs. His fucking blindfold is wet with tears. 

“Yeah?” Yoongi gives his cock a stroke and Taehyung sobs, weakly trying to fuck into his fist. “Good slut.”

“Lemme come,” he whimpers. “Please, lemme—”

“No.”

“ Hyung .”

“Ssht, not yet.” Yoongi kneads Taehyung’s cockhead, his fingers slick with lube and precum. “Be good.”

Taehyung whines, still trying to jerk his hips forward, but in his position is almost impossible and his legs simply won’t hold him up. “F-feels too good, I’m gonna—”

“No, you’re not.” Yoongi lets go of him. Taehyung doesn’t even move, just shudders with his next desperate sob. He turns on the plug again and presses a kiss to Taehyung’s hip when his moans come out garbled and loud. “You’re doing so good.”

Taehyung groans, his head resting heavily against his forearm. But then, once more, his breathing eases and he allows himself to just feel; his voice carries, heady and airy, with every cry of incessant pleasure as the plug keeps on vibrating inside him, cock dripping, his body shuddering.

“Like that.” Yoongi stands and leans in, his hand barely brushing the tip of Taehyung’s cock when he whispers in his ear, “Hyung’s pretty slut.”

Taehyung comes.

He does so with a strained, almost pained cry, his cock spilling over Yoongi’s hand, untouched. 

“Oh, honey,” Yoongi sighs. “I didn’t say you could come.”

“No, ‘m sorry,” Taehyung moans, blindly rutting against Yoongi’s palm. “‘m sorry, hyung, please, I’m s-sorry!”

“I know.” Yoongi wraps his hand around Taehyung’s cock, stroking him through his orgasm, letting him enjoy this. “I know you are.”

Slowly, Taehyung comes down from the high. Yoongi turns off the plug, then the two egg vibrators. 

After a moment, Taehyung whispers once more, “I’m sorry.”

Yoongi hums. “Well, you’ll make it up to me. But let me untie you first.” Yoongi grabs Taehyung’s cuffs and starts undoing the knot of the rope. As soon as that tension snaps, Taehyung drops against him, bounded arms falling limply between them.

“Easy, yeah?” Yoongi takes the blindfold off next. “You’re alright.”

Taehyung blinks his eyes open, and—oh, he’s so gone, isn’t he? His eyes are so dark and wet with tears, he looks fucked out, spent.

Sooner or later, Yoongi is going to make him stupid with pleasure.

“Let me take these off too. Tape won’t hurt, promise.” So Yoongi gets the two egg vibrators off of him, eyeing Taehyung’s reddened, swollen nipples for a moment. Maybe next time he should make him come just from his chest. “Now, what to do with you?”

Taehyung swallows, staring at him with a lidded gaze. Yoongi breathes in before tucking Taehyung’s damp, messy hair behind his ear. “Get on your stomach.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, and his hesitation lasts for only a few moments. Then, he’s turning around and lies down on the mattress, cuffed hands held under his chest.

Yoongi grabs the pillows from the top of the bed and piles them up before telling Taehyung to get on all fours; he slides the pillows under Taehyung’s abdomen and then lets him lay on top of them.

Like this, Taehyung’s ass is raised up, his groin pressed against the pillows. “Color.”

Taehyung sighs, “Green.”

“You can take ten, can’t you?”

“Yes, hyung.”

“And you’re going to count for me, yes?”

“Yeah.”

Yoongi nods, standing by the side of the bed. He’s not going to go too hard; it’s Taehyung’s first punishment, and he knows that, usually, more than the pain it’s the humiliation of it that does the job. 

Besides, he has a feeling that this, too, could be interesting.

The first hit is not hard, but the slap still sounds loud and sharp. Taehyung gasps, jerking forward. “ One. ”

Yoongi’s hand lands on Taehyung’s left cheek this time, then presses over it, where the skin is sensitive and hot. 

“Two,” Taehyung whines.

“Spread your legs.” Yoongi waits for him to do so then reaches between them to pull the plug out, grinning at the startled noise that rips out of Taehyung. The moment the toy is out, Yoongi spanks him again, and then once again, this time harder.

“F—four.” Taehyung squirms, legs trembling. This time, when Yoongi hits him again, he arches. “ Haah —five.”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head. “Is it really a punishment if you’re enjoying it?”

“I’m so— six! ” Taehyung’s ass clenches, his legs spread further apart. 

“Let’s play a game.” Yoongi’s hand comes down fast, his palm stinging with it. Taehyung moans out a feeble, seven . “If once I’m done you’re hard again, and if you want me to, hyung will make you come again.”

Taehyung’s body shudders with the next slap, hips jerking into the pillows. “ Hnn —eight, fuck.”

Yoongi inhales, sharp, then lands two quick, harsh hits on the same, red patch of skin. Taehyung bends over at this, legs kicking forward. “ Ten, ” he keens, his voice caught between a sob. 

Yoongi shakes his hand, then crouches down. Taehyung turns his head to the side and looks at him, eyes swimming with heat, lashes wet.

“Are you hard, Taehyung?”

Taehyung’s face flushes, then he nods.

“Want me to take care of it?” Again, Taehyung nods, looking somewhat bashful. “On your side. Yeah, like that.” Yoongi glances between Taehyung’s legs and reaches for Taehyung’s sensitive, hard cock. The first stroke is light, careful, and still Taehyung cries so beautifully that Yoongi wishes he could start the scene all over again. “You’re fucking insatiable, aren’t you?”

“Gonna—” Taehyung groans, squirming uncomfortably, eyes shut closed. “ Close .”

“It’s alright.” Yoongi strokes up and down the length, adding faint pressure. “It’s okay to be insatiable. To like this.”

Taehyung makes a small, overwhelmed noise and then he’s coming again, soundless, his body drawn taut, spilling weakly over Yoongi’s fist. It takes only a handful of seconds for Taehyung to go limp and pliant, mouth parted around shallow breaths.

“Still with me?” Yoongi asks, reaching for the cuffs.

“Mmh, yeah.”

Once the cuffs are off, Yoongi drops them on the floor and rubs his thumbs over the sore, reddened wrists. This time there’s no way they’re not going to bruise. “Taehyung?”

Taehyung blinks his eyes open, frowning.

“You were perfect.” Yoongi smiles at him. “Thank you.”

It takes some time for Taehyung to finally gather enough strength for a bath (no shower this time, Yoongi has a feeling his legs would absolutely not keep him up), and once he finally emerges, Yoongi wraps a blanket around him and ushers him to the sofa. 

And maybe it’s because of the punishment, or maybe because the scene was longer, but Taehyung ends up being a lot stickier than usual. In the end, Yoongi finds himself laying on the couch as well, arms full of a very tired, very sated Taehyung.

“Someone looks happy,” Yoongi comments after a while, looking at Taehyung as he lazily sucks around a piece of dark chocolate.

“I feel so good right now.” Taehyung sighs, rubbing his cheek against Yoongi’s chest. “Am I heavy? I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.” Yoongi grabs the end of the blanket, pulling it up to Taehyung’s chin. “There’s no rush.”

“Yoongi-ssi.”

“Mh?”

“Thank you.” Taehyung clears his voice. “I mean it. It was what I needed.”

Yoongi smiles to himself, silently but endlessly pleased. “I’m glad to hear that.” 

Eventually, Taehyung pulls himself up and sits on the other end of the couch, and Yoongi brings him a glass of water. 

“I think—” Yoongi starts saying. “I’m getting a clearer idea of how far I can push you.”

Taehyung blinks at him, lips pressed to the rim of the glass. “Do you have something in mind?”

Yoongi nods. “I’ll think of our next scene very carefully. Do you remember what you told me after our first scene? That you struggled to fully let go?”

“I do.”

“I think today you almost did just that.” Then, Yoongi says, “And I think what gets you there is not pleasure by itself, but pain.”

At this, Taehyung grips his glass tighter. He looks away for a moment, brows pushing together, then he admits, “I think so too.”

“There’s nothing shameful about it.”

“Yeah, no, I know. I know that.”

Yoongi says, “It’s not easy to unlearn certain instincts, Taehyung-ssi. But if you really do want to let go, then I’m confident I can do that for you.”

Taehyung nods, looking at Yoongi with a resolved gaze. “I’d—really like that.” He pauses. “I have a request.”

“Of course.”

“Yoongi-ssi.” Taehyung breathes in. “Next time, I want to make you feel good too.”

Yoongi frowns. “You already do.”

“No, not like that.” Taehyung shakes his head, and says, “I want to make you come.”

Chapter Text

“ Must you be so stubborn, Jaehyun? ”

Taehyung walks slowly, each step echoing across the empty theater room, the wooden stage creaking softly under his feet. Hyungwon leans with his hands on the table, breathing hard. “ Don’t get closer— ”

“ You’re simply lying to yourself, ” Taehyung murmurs, curling his mouth in disgust. “I cannot stand it when people like you pretend to be good. ”

“ People like me? ” Hyungwon seethes, twisting around to glare at him. Good glare, Hyungwon is good at glaring. “ How dare you even judge others, Kim Daeseong, when you’re so depraved, so— ”

“ I judge liars. ” Taehyung walks to stand by Hyungwon's side and he leans in until he’s barely inches away from him. “ No… no, I pity you for not accepting your true self. ” Hyungwon looks away sharply like he can’t bare to look at him. Taehyung grins and drapes himself over Hyungwon’s back, hugging his middle. “ But I can help you, ” he whispers in his ear. “ I can make you realize just how similar we are. How good it would feel to accept your call. ”

“ Shut up ,” Hyungwon hisses after a beat too long. They need to work on their reaction time. “I’m not like you. ”

“ Didn’t it feel good to kill him?” Taehyung purrs, spreading his fingers over Hyungwon’s chest. “ To have your hands warm with his blood? To watch the life leave his eyes. ”

“ Stop it! ” Hyungwon screams, but he doesn’t push him away. “ It did not feel—it was disgusting! ”

“ Don’t lie. He deserved it. Men like him always do .” Taehyung breathes in and sighs, rubbing his nose over the side of Hyungwon’s neck. “I can make it feel even better…I can make you feel bliss, Jaehyung, if only you let go— ”

“Good boy, let go.”

Taehyung stutters the next few words. “ Then I—I’d make it feel e-even better. ”

Okay, maybe let’s not think about Yoongi right now.

That’s Hyungwon’s cue to thrash against him and swing his arm back. Taehyung dodges it, stepping backward. 

“ You— ” Hyungwon shouts, his voice carrying across the empty space. “ You deserve hell, Kim Daeseong! ”

“And scene.” Seokjin stands up from where he was sitting, in the middle of the second row. “Lights go down as Hyungwon walks out of the third wing, and we move to the interval, you’ll have twenty minutes to redo your makeup and change outfits.”

Taehyung rolls his shoulders and Hyungwon nods while Seokjin speaks, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You guys are still too slow.” Seokjin starts walking out of the second row, while the rest of the cast starts spreading out in different directions behind him. “This exchange needs to be quick, tight, and tense like you’re almost speaking over each other. Also, let’s not stutter maybe?”

Taehyung smiles sheepishly. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, we’ve been at it for almost two hours.” Seokjin shakes his head. “God, I need caffeine. Let’s take a break, we start from scene 1 of act 2 in fifteen minutes.”

Taehyung shares a changing room with Jimin in this theater, and it’s probably one of the nicest ones they’ve ever had. It’s spacious, and clean, with a huge window to the side that looks over a cozy little alley with a small bistro. 

“I missed rehearsing on stage,” Jimin says as he flips through the script. “Can’t wait to rehearse with costumes, too.”

Taehyung hums, sitting heavily next to him in front of the vanities. He checks the time: one hour left of rehearsals for today, and then he’s meeting Yoongi. 

The thought sends a spark of excitement down Taehyung’s spine, and he straightens up on the chair. 

“You gotta meet Hoseok,” Jimin says then, smiling brightly. “He’s so fun. You’d love him.”

“Sure. Wanna have dinner one of these days?”

“Tomorrow?”

“Sure.” Taehyung grins while rolling up his sleeves. They crank up the heaters here, and it gets hot real quick. “If you’re making me meet him it means it’s serious.”

Jimin shrugs. “I like him. I think it might become something… I don’t know. Stable? Though, I’m not great at stable relationships and— holy shit , Taehyung, your fucking arms.”

What?

Taehyung looks down at his arms with a frown and then immediately wants to jump right out of that huge window and crack his skull open in front of the cute bistro.

Right. The bruises. The bruises that faded, yes, but not fully, and are very much there still from his last meeting with Yoongi.

“Fuck.” Taehyung rolls his sleeves down again, then points a finger at Jimin. “Not a word.”

“Oh, you freaky little shit.”

“Shut. Up.”

“Good for you, Tae,” Jimin sighs. “Good for you. And for Min Yoongi, too, lucky asshole.”

“Oh my god, stop that.”

“I take it it’s going well with him.”

“Yes, now let’s drop it.”

“Sure, sure.” Jimin stays silent for a grand total of two seconds. “I should have known you’d be into getting tied up the second we met.”

“I’ll kick your ass.”

“You’re meeting him tonight, aren’t you?” Jimin grins and raises his eyebrows. “What’s in store for you, my little precious summer child?”

Taehyung grimaces. “There’s no way in hell I’m telling you.”

“You’re not gonna tell me ? Your soulmate? Your best friend? That wounds me, that deeply—”

“Suck it up.”

“I hope you don’t come today.”

“Fuck. You.”

There’s one thing Yoongi doesn’t know about Taehyung, and this one thing isn’t anything big or concerning. Honestly, it’s just kind of embarrassing.

The thing is, Taehyung likes to think he’s full of confidence. Fake it ‘till you make it, that’s the motto of any actor, but it kinda becomes an issue when that bleeds into daily life as well.

So whenever Taehyung has a meeting with Yoongi, he ends up showing up ten minutes early. Always, no exception. He will arrive at the condo and get inside the elevator, tapping his foot like an anxious trapped animal while inside, and then he will stand in front of Yoongi’s door and just… wait. 

He’s not sure why he does this. It’s not like he’s nervous, not really. Meeting with Yoongi is always a source of deep, undeniable relief for Taehyung. And, of course, excitement. Still, knowing that just behind that door Min Yoongi is waiting for him—that he’s probably making tea now, after having prepared the room and the bathroom for him—always has Taehyung’s chest go tight, tight enough it cuts his breath and makes his skin prickle with warmth and he’s not… entirely sure why.

All he knows is that today, too, he shows up late and waits in front of the closed door, hands in the pockets of his coat, playing with the candy wrapper he stuffed in there earlier this day.

It would probably be very fucking embarrassing if Yoongi opened the door for whatever reason and found Taehyung just… standing there. For no reason. 

Taehyung sighs, closing his eyes. He’s been waiting for today’s scene ever since Yoongi sent him the details. He’s not just very excited for what Yoongi personally has in store for him but especially for what Taehyung gets to do today. Even before realizing that what he needed was more than the vanilla experiences, or the mild, almost hesitant ways he tried out safe kinks with willing partners, Taehyung always knew he liked making others feel good. That he liked being good for them, that a big part of his enjoyment of sex came from knowing that the other person was feeling pleasure thanks to him.

And Yoongi is so—fuck, he’s so good to Taehyung. Always, it’s almost like he can read Taehyung with just one look, and immediately knows what to do next, how to touch him, how to talk to him. So if Taehyung can do this thing for him, if just this once he gets to make Yoongi orgasm as well, it would mean a lot to him. 

Also, he’s not going to lie, he really wants to know what Yoongi looks like when he comes. Sue him, Yoongi is annoyingly attractive.

He checks the time on his phone and, with one last sigh, he knocks on the door. 

When Yoongi opens it, Taehyung can already feel the day’s fatigue and stress bleeding out of him.

“Hello,” Yoongi says with a smile, stepping aside to let him in. 

Taehyung nods, toeing off his shoes once he’s inside. Already, he can smell the floral scent of tea and the incense Yoongi always lights up in the living room, something heady and velvety. 

“I made tea,” Yoongi says, already heading to the small kitchenette. 

“Thank you,” Taehyung replies, watching him for a second. Is it weird that Taehyung likes the way Yoongi moves? His steps are always very measured, slow, and quiet, and whenever he picks up his mug, or starts the kettle—or touches him—he always does so very delicately. 

Taehyung sits at the usual spot at the table after dropping his coat over the couch’s armrest, and accepts the cup of tea with a nod, feeling the warmth of the ceramic sink into his skin.

“How was your day?” Yoongi asks him as he sits down.

“Busy. We’re rehearsing in the theater now.”

Yoongi hums and he curls his fingers around his cup. Damn it, Taehyung would stare at his hands all the time. Just—they’re big. Manly. But then they touch him so carefully every time, they curve over his waist, over his thighs, and Taehyung always gets kind of obsessed with the difference of their complexions, of how Yoongi’s paler skin looks against his.

“Is it different?” Yoongi asks, mouth pink. Very pink. His lips are so soft, too, Taehyung remembers it and—let’s not go there. “Rehearsing on stage, I mean.”

Taehyung nods eagerly, a kick of excitement rushing through him. “Oh, yeah. It changes everything. Makes everything feel more real.”

Yoongi nods slowly, but he’s listening to him. Yoongi always listens. 

“It can also change a lot of scenes, the way they play out. On script everything is possible, but once you’re there you gotta keep in mind the dimensions of the stage, where the wings are, the lights. So a lot of script directions are changed during rehearsals, it can become a bit stressful. Sometimes you have to relearn entire scenes.” Taehyung then pauses. “Yoongi-ssi, this isn’t your only source of income, is it?”

“Ah, no. I have a—y’know.” Yoongi gestures, hand moving nonsensically in front of him. “I have a more common job, let’s say that.”

“Which is—?”

“I work in music. It’s nothing… crazy or cool.” Yoongi rubs a hand over his neck, suddenly looking somewhat shy. “I’m not famous or anything. I’m just a name you find sometimes in the credits of songs that no one bothers reading.”

Taehyung stares at him. “But that is cool.”

“It really isn’t,” Yoongi chuckles, eyes crinkling at the sides, his face softening. 

“No, it is! You’ll have to make me listen to something you worked on.”

“It’s nothing that groundbreaking, but sure. If you want.” Then, Yoongi straightens up. “About today—first of all, did you take a painkiller as I told you to?”

Right. 

Taehyung nods, hands tightening around the mug.

“Good. And about your request, I’m still up for it. Any questions?”

“Just… will it hurt a lot?” Taehyung feels silly asking that. Of course it will hurt, he wants it to hurt, but still—a part of his brain, the rational one, keeps reminding him that pain isn’t something he should enjoy.

“It will hurt,” Yoongi answers carefully, keeping his eyes on him. “But not in the way you’d think. It won’t be too hard, it’s your first time doing something like this. And it won’t be only pain you’ll feel. There will be moments, during the scene, when you’ll find yourself not being able to tell what hurts and what feels good. That’s because, as we’ve found out, you do enjoy pain. That’s why it’s important that today if it gets too much, you tell me immediately.”

“Of course.”

“You’ll be just fine, Taehyung-ssi.” Yoongi smiles. “I’ll make sure of it.”

And just like that, any worry that Taehyung had simply fades away.

╭─────╮

Yoongi rolls up the sleeves of his shirt, listening to the sound of the water hitting the tiles in the shower. He does one last check of everything he’s prepared, then sighs.

He isn’t nervous. Nervous isn’t the right word.

It’s just that this is the first time in a long fucking while ever since he allowed someone to make him come during a scene, is all. So far he’s never cared for it; he doesn’t do this to orgasm, especially when it’s with clients, that’s a line he tries not to cross.

But he’s crossing it with Taehyung.

That’s what has him… on edge. He could have easily said no when Taehyung made his request, he’s sure Taehyung would have understood and let it go immediately. 

He surprised himself when he said yes, to be quite honest.

Another sigh comes out of him. 

Why did he say yes? It’s not like he’s regretting it. Not at all, he still wants this and, given how excited Taehyung looked earlier, he assumes Taehyung wants to do this just as much. But maybe that’s the problem: Yoongi really fucking wants this.

The moment the request left Taehyung’s mouth, Yoongi’s head was kind enough to supply him with a crystal clear image of what Taehyung would look like with his cock in his mouth, and that had been all Yoongi needed to immediately agree.

But isn’t that expected? Who would be able to say no to something like this when it’s Taehyung's offering? Taehyung. Possibly the most stunning person Yoongi ever got to lay a finger on. Honestly, he’s been thanking his luck every day.

The click of the door is what breaks Yoongi’s thoughts, and he mentally curses himself for how he was so engrossed in his head that he didn’t even notice the water stopped running

He’s not sure what expression he’s making, but whatever it is he schools it into something neutral and easy before turning around. 

Taehyung is already kneeling on the floor, his robe folding in smooth curves over his thighs. The tips of his hair are damp, and the skin of his neck a lovely color.

Fuck, Yoongi got way too lucky. “Color?”

“Green,” Taehyung answers, voice steady. 

Yoongi hums and stands in front of him, looking down at Taehyung for a moment before he reaches for his face. Taehyung blinks at the first stroke of Yoongi’s thumb over his cheek but quickly eases into it, his head tilting slightly into the touch.

Pretty. 

Taehyung’s mouth curves up in a faint smile. “Thank you.”

Ah. He said out loud, didn’t he?

Well, it doesn’t matter.

“Really, such a pretty thing,” Yoongi breathes out. “And you’re gonna make hyung feel good today, aren’t you?”

Taehyung’s eyes widen, his lips parting soundlessly. Yoongi sees him fisting the folds of his dark robe as he nods, and isn’t it so sweet that just being told this is already making Taehyung aroused?

One day , Yoongi thinks, I’m going to tie him up for hours and make him come until he can’t even speak.

Yoongi looks at him for a few moments in silence. Taehyung’s skin is such a nice color, and it always feels smooth and soft, giving. Briefly, he remembers how it felt to have his mouth on Taehyung, and suddenly he craves that.

So Yoongi kneels, smiling at the startled expression Taehyung makes, and moves his hand from Taehyung’s cheek to the back of his hair. Yoongi grabs him by the hair then, and pulls at it gently, watching as Taehyung’s eyes flutter almost to a close, at the exposed column of his throat as his head is tilted back. 

Yoongi presses his mouth over the side of Taehyung’s neck, humming when he feels Taehyung’s breath hitching, dragging his lips up to the line of his jaw, down to his throat. 

“Don’t worry,” Yoongi murmurs, his free hand undoing the belt of the robe before stroking down Taehyung’s chest. “Hyung will make sure you feel good too.”

Taehyung lets out a small noise when Yoongi’s thumb catches over his nipple and holds his breath when his fingers travel lower, between his thighs where Taehyung’s cock is hardening.

Yoongi only gives it a teasing, light stroke, and focuses instead on mouthing wetly at Taehyung’s neck. He does it slowly, adding the pressure of his teeth every few moments, his satisfaction growing and growing when Taehyung’s breaths start coming out faster, unevenly. 

When he pulls back, Taehyung’s eyes are closed, his lips shiny. 

Yoongi wonders if kissing him—

No. No, let’s not go there.

Yoongi takes a breath in and reaches for Taehyung’s wrists; the bruises have started to fade, and he imagines they don’t even hurt anymore. Remembering Taehyung’s words, Yoongi stands up and goes to the drawer to pick a new pair of cuffs. 

“These are softer,” he explains when Taehyung looks at them with a frown. “The padding is a lot more giving. Let's make sure the bruising is gone before I use something tighter on you.”

Taehyung nods, shedding off the robe completely before offering his wrists. “Something tighter?”

Yoongi hums, securing the first padded cuff. “Since you like being tied up, I’ve been thinking about moving to ropes if it’s something you’re interested in.”

Taehyung’s fingers twitch before he says, “I’d like that.”

“Of course you do.” Yoongi grins at him and then focuses on the second cuff. “Still green?” He waits for Taehyung to nod. “Bend over the bed for me.”

He goes to collect the lube and a thick, smooth silicone plug. When he turns around, Taehyung is already bent over the edge of the bed, his cuffed hands tucked under his chest, eyes peering up at him. 

“Alright.” Next, Yoongi kneels behind him and coats his fingers generously, warming the lube between them. “How many fingers do I start with, mh?”

Taehyung jerks slightly when the pads of Yoongi’s fingers start circling his rim. “Hyung can use two.”

“Can I?” Yoongi smiles to himself, teasing at Taehyung’s entrance. He pushes one into the rim and is pleased to meet very little resistance. “Someone was eager today, mh?”

Taehyung mutters something that quickly morphs into a surprised noise when Yoongi starts easing two fingers inside of him. He relaxes soon, legs spreading, his hole clenching.

“Did you touch yourself here today?” Yoongi asks, watching the way his fingers slowly sink deeper into Taehyung. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out.

“When?”

“I-in the morning.”

“Oh?” Yoongi pulls back his fingers, then back in. Taehyung clenches around them, letting out a breathy moan. “Before rehearsals?”

“It’s—” Taehyung swallows audibly. “Had a-a dream.”

Yoongi wets his mouth. The next thrust of his fingers is deeper, harder. Taehyung’s hips twitch up, his cock hard between his legs, pressed against the side of the bed. “Tell me about it.”

Taehyung whines, squirming. Yoongi clicks his tongue, and says, “That wasn’t a question.”

“ I dreamed you fucked me. ”

Shit.

Yoongi’s cock jumps in his slacks, heat crawling down his body.

“Did you?” He asks, feeling so goddamn smug he can’t help but smile. He’s glad that, like this, Taehyung can’t see his face. “How did I fuck you in your dream?”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines again, his back arching as he presses his face between his arms. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I’d say you should be more embarrassed about being bent over like a bitch for me.”

Taehyung’s ass tightens and he moans lightly, airy, cock twitching. So Yoongi adds a third finger and prods against Taehyung’s walls until Taehyung keens and shudders. “Tell me how I fucked you in your dream.”

It takes Taehyung a few moments to reply, with his voice thick and low, “You fucked me hard. F-fast. I couldn't-couldn’t move, you pinned me down and— ah —you kept my wrists in your hand.”

Yoongi hums before he pulls his fingers out to reach for the plug. He looks, for a moment, at the way Taehyung’s hole keeps clenching around nothing, shiny with lube, then starts pushing the plug inside.

At the feeling, Taehyung whimpers, and his thighs tremble. It is a tight fit; the plug is larger than the ones he’s used on him before, but Yoongi is confident that the stretch and burn of it are only helping Taehyung to feel good.

“If I fucked you,” Yoongi muses, pushing the plug in slowly, watching the way Taehyung’s rim stretches around it. “I’d take my time with you.”

The reaction Taehyung gives him is one of very thinly repressed delight: his hole clenches, swallowing down the plug fully, his legs part even further, knees sliding over the wooden floor, and he lets out this low, strained cry that goes straight to Yoongi’s dick.

“You like that?” Yoongi asks, smirking to himself. He plays with the plug for a while, tugging at it and then pushing it deeper into Taehyung. “I’d keep you still and play with your chest until you get desperate and loud. I wouldn’t touch your dick. I’d watch you get hard and needy before fingering you.”

“Hyung.” Taehyung’s hips wriggle, his voice breaking slightly. 

“I’d fuck you with my fingers nice and slow. Open you up until you’re dripping with lube. I’d make you come with just that at first.” Yoongi straightens up and then drapes himself over Taehyung’s back, his lips pressed to the shell of Taehyung’s ears. “And then I’d fuck you.”

Beneath him, Taehyung’s body shudders, his breath hitching in his throat. 

“I’m a very patient man, you know?” Yoongi strokes down Taehyung’s side, hand resting over the curve of his hip. “I’d fuck you deep, and slow. I’d fuck you like that, while you’re sensitive and raw with it until you get hard again.”

“ Fuck, ” Taehyung whispers, and he lifts his hips, grinding against Yoongi’s crotch. 

“Look at you,” Yoongi hisses, the pressure of Taehyung’s ass against his hard dick both infuriating and perfect. “If you’re so desperate just from this, how would you be if I fucked you?” He bites Taehyung’s lobe between his teeth, feeling him shiver. “I bet you’d be loud. That you’d beg, that you’d come when told to. Like a good slut.”

Taehyung moans, a velvety, deep sound, and grinds back against Yoongi. 

Fuck, he’s lovely. 

Maybe Yoongi should get over his own rules and boundaries and fuck him right now.

Yeah, wouldn’t that be nice? Too bad he’s the way he is.

He pulls away from Taehyung and tells him, “Kneel back. Mh, like that.” Yoongi sits in the spot where Taehyung was bent over and smiles down at him. “Still wanna make me come?”

Taehyung nods, earnestly and with his eyes a bit dazed already. Huh.

Isn’t he slipping a bit faster today? He’s been louder than usual too from the start.

Yoongi spreads his legs, sitting closer to the edge of the mattress, and rests his elbows over his knees. “Go on, then. Make me feel good.”

Taehyung doesn’t waste time. He scoots closer until he’s kneeling nice and pretty between Yoongi’s legs, and with bound hands, he reaches for the button of Yoongi’s slacks. His fingers are steady when he pops it out and when he pulls down the zip. 

“You can do whatever you want,” Yoongi tells him as he watches Taehyung pull down the waistband of his briefs. His cock, already hard, springs free. “But you can only use your mouth.” Before Taehyung can do anything though, Yoongi grabs his hair and tugs, forcing Taehyung to look at him, lips pressed together to smother a whine. “This is a reward, Taehyung. Because you’ve been so good to me last time. What do we say when we get rewards?”

Taehyung licks his lips, eyes dark. “Thank you, hyung.”

“Good boy.” Yoongi lets go of him and, immediately, Taehyung’s mouth is wrapped around the head of his dick.

He closes his eyes at the sudden warmth, breathing through his nose once, twice. 

Granted, it’s been a while since he let someone do this for him. 

He knows it might be weird to some; Yoongi knows he’s a sexual person, and yet he’s never been someone desperate for release. His high is linked, fully, to the control he gets to have during scenes.

But this is—fuck. This is good.

Taehyung is good. He starts slow, sucking around his cockhead with wet lips and a skilled tongue, then lets go just to mouth at his length, to lap at it. He’s wet and messy, and he doesn’t care about the drool catching at the corners of his mouth. When he takes Yoongi in his mouth again, jaw slack to take him deeper, his eyes flutter closed and a quiet, pleased hum escapes him and vibrates around Yoongi’s cock.

“ Shit. ” Yoongi swallows, moving one hand to curve around Taehyung’s nape. He doesn’t apply pressure, not now, but simply keeps it there. “Good boy, like that.”

Taehyung sucks around him as he pulls back, never letting Yoongi’s cock out of his mouth. His tongue presses against the side as he does, swirls around the tip, his mouth red and tight around him. 

“Should have known you’d be good at sucking dick,” Yoongi says lightly. “You might be a virgin, but you’re still a slut.”

Taehyung moans, the sound high and muffled. He takes Yoongi deeper, breathing out of his nose as he swallows him whole, and Yoongi squeezes around his nape. “Stop.”

Taehyung does. He stays there, kneeling and mouth full, and blinks up at Yoongi.

“Be a good boy for me,” Yoongi says, smiling. “And keep it warm for a while.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and then close, brows furrowed together as he whines around Yoongi’s cock.

“Just for a while,” Yoongi adds, straightening up and reaching for his phone in the pocket of his slacks. “I just remembered I have some emails I have to check.”

He most definitely does not.

But he has a very clear idea of how he wants this scene to go, and where he wants to take Taehyung with it, and this will help.

So he unlocks his phone and starts mindlessly checking his emails even though he hasn’t gotten any new ones.

Between his legs, Taehyung stays very still, his mouth wrapped tight around him, Yoongi’s cock heavy on his tongue. His breathing is even, if a little quick, but that’s to be expected.

Once in a while, Taehyung will swallow and Yoongi has to keep himself from fucking into his mouth. Shit, he’s so warm around him, and wet. He wants to keep Taehyung high and dry for a bit longer, but he’s also starting to get a bit antsy. Glancing at the time on his phone, Yoongi sees that three minutes have already passed.

Just a bit more. Just to make sure Taehyung lowers his guard.

Then, a hesitant weight lands on the side of Yoongi’s thigh. Looking down, Yoongi blinks at the sight of Taehyung resting his head over his leg, mouth still full of Yoongi’s cock, eyes lidded, fluttering almost to a close.

Yoongi breathes out a laugh and strokes his thumb over Taehyung’s cheek. Taehyung hums, eyes closing completely, breathing out slowly. Cute. 

Yoongi is going to break him today.

“Comfortable?” Yoongi asks. Taehyung blinks his eyes open just for a moment; Yoongi will take it as a yes. “Just a bit more and I’ll be done.”

Taehyung sighs, breathing out his nose. 

Yoongi is done, he has been done for a long time. But there’s just something so endearing about Taehyung relaxing like this while keeping his cock warm, that Yoongi doesn’t want to break the spell just yet. Taehyung looks at ease, like he’s not thinking about anything right now.

So Yoongi goes back to his phone, opening his texts just so he has something to do. At the same time, he moves his hand away from Taehyung’s face and reaches for the remote in his pocket. He keeps it in his fist and doesn’t press it just yet.

Two more minutes go by before Yoongi decides it’s time to give Taehyung what he actually wants.

“You’ve been very good,” he says, dropping the phone on the mattress. Taehyung looks at him and doesn’t move. “Straighten up. I’m gonna stand, okay?” So he gets off the bed and stands in front of Taehyung, who kneels up straight, mouth still wrapped around his dick. “Relax your jaw for me. Good.” Yoongi reaches behind Taehyung’s head and fists a handful of soft curls. Taehyung’s eyes go wide with realization, face flushing. “If you want me to stop you’re going to hit me twice on the leg. Show me you understood.”

Taehyung lifts his cuffed hands and taps twice over Yoongi’s thigh. 

“That’s it.” Then, Yoongi pulls his hips back before thrusting them forward, his cock sinking into Taehyung’s mouth. Deep, and deeper, until Taehyung groans and Yoongi can feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of his throat. “ Fuck , Taehyung.”

He sets a slow pace, each thrust deep. Taehyung’s jaw is slack, his mouth wet, slick, and it’s good enough that Yoongi has to bite his lips to keep himself from moaning.

He could keep it like this. He could just fuck Taehyung’s mouth nice and slow, get himself to an orgasm and leave it at that.

But Yoongi is an asshole sometimes, and Taehyung loves it when he’s mean.

The moment he snaps his hips forward, fucking into his mouth deeper, harder, he pushes the remote’s button. 

Taehyung’s eyes go huge with shock, and a moan rips out of him, muffled and strangled. A tremor runs through him, his body jerking forward.

“Don’t move.” Yoongi tightens the grip he has on Taehyung’s hair and starts fucking into his mouth fast and hard. “Let hyung use you.”

At this, Taehyung just— fuck —he just goes boneless for a moment, doesn’t he? Yoongi swears that for a second Taehyung looks like he’s about to drop against him with how quickly he melts, with how easily his eyes flutter almost to a close, jaw slack, his body pliant. His knees even part further, cock bobbing untouched between his thighs.

“You like that?” Yoongi grins, snapping his hips forward. Taehyung hums around him, blinking. “Course you do. What a good slut.”

Taehyung moans again and then chokes when Yoongi fucks into his mouth deeply. Yoongi just holds his hair tighter and doesn’t slow down. He’s going to trust Taehyung, trust that if he wanted him to stop he’d touch his leg the way he instructed.

And he’s glad he did that because Taehyung does enjoy this. It’s crystal clear in the hazy light of his eyes, made obvious by the muffled, whimpery sounds he’s making around Yoongi’s dick. 

“I wish I had a fucking mirror,” Yoongi hisses, watching how his length slides, slick and wet, between Taehyung’s lips. “Wish I could make you see how filthy you look sometimes.”

Taehyung shivers, visibly, his cuffed hands inching closer to his cock, hard and flushed and leaking pathetically even though Yoongi didn’t even lay a goddamn finger on him and—

“Don’t touch yourself,” Yoongi snaps and is pleased when Taehyung’s hands drop to his lap immediately. “Good.” So he keeps fucking into his mouth, each thrust quick, and hard, but smooth now that he’s found a decent pace. “Fuck, Taehyung. Mouth made for sucking cock.”

Taehyung whines, voice garbled, choked off, and he’s fully tearing up now, maybe it’s the strain of it or the shame, Yoongi doesn’t know; what he knows is that Taehyung looks blissed out just from having his mouth fucked, and that there’s drool dripping from the corners of his mouth, down his chin, and he’s so warm, tight and wet, his tongue swirling messily against his cock—

Yoongi realizes he’s going to come too late. Which isn’t good. At all. Because Yoongi never comes this fast, and definitely doesn’t do it without warning, but—well, there’s not much he can do about it now.

Taehyung doesn’t even flinch. He just kneels there and moans while Yoongi comes deep into his mouth with a low moan, and then Taehyung fully closes his eyes and swallows.

“Shit.” Yoongi shivers, feeling Taehyung’s mouth tightening, his throat closing. “God, Taehyung, look at you.”

It’s—probably fine. Yoongi is clean, and Taehyung put in his form that he’s fine with stuff like this as well. He wishes he had the fucking mind to warn him at least, but what’s happened happened. He pulls out, slowly, (and turns off the fucking plug, because he’s half fearing Taehyung might come). 

Taehyung licks his lips, head lolling a bit to the side when Yoongi lets go of his hair. 

“Sorry for not warning you,” Yoongi tells him, tucking himself back in his slacks and then rubbing a thumb over Taehyung’s cheek. “Are you alright?”

Taehyung nods, and then murmurs, “So good.”

“Huh?”

“Felt good.” Taehyung blinks. He sounds slightly breathless, his voice deep. “I liked it.”

Yoongi can’t help but smile at this. “Yeah?”

“Did hyung feel good?”

Was I good? is what Taehyung really wants to ask, probably.

So Yoongi answers, “You felt perfect.”

Taehyung grins, clearly quite pleased with himself. 

“And since you’ve been so good, you deserve a reward.” Yoongi straightens up. “Right?”

Taehyung swallows, his eyes looking more alert. “I—do.”

Yoongi steps to the side. “On the bed, on your hands and knees.”

Taehyung gets up, legs buckling for a moment, but he quickly finds his balance again. Following Yoongi’s instructions, he gets on all fours on the bed, his toes just shy of the end of the mattress.

“Now.” Yoongi moves to press his hand between Taehyung’s shoulders, and then he pushes. “Down you go. Mh, like that.” He eases Taehyung’s arms so that they’re resting below his stomach until his chest is pressed flush against the soft bedding, only his hips held high. “Don’t move.”

Yoongi steps back to look at him. The arch of Taehyung’s back like this is tight and pretty, and his hole keeps fluttering around the plug and lube has started to trickle down his ass, his thighs.

Maybe I should just fuck him.

Yoongi shakes the thought out of his head. No. Not today. Not next time either, honestly, maybe never, who the hell knows?

Next, Yoongi grabs the riding crop. For a few moments, he just traces it with his hand, first the grip, then the length of the cane, and, finally, the end. Floppy, thin. It hurts just a bit more like this. 

He has a feeling Taehyung will like that. “Color?”

“Green,” Taehyung replies. 

“Alright.” Yoongi takes a long breath. Then, he lands a quick, hard hit on his own thigh. He hisses at it, feeling the burn on his skin. He’ll start with less strength than this, work Taehyung through the pain layer by layer. “Are you ready?”

Taehyung breathes in, out. “Yes, hyung.”

Yoongi hums and rests the tip of the riding crop on the swell of Taehyung’s ass. He flinches even though no pain came, but then relaxes. “Remember, this isn’t a punishment,” Yoongi says, keeping his voice low, calm. “This is because you like this.”

“Yes, hyung.”

“I want you to focus solely on that.” Yoongi drags the tip over the curve of Taehyung’s hip, down his thigh. “On the burn. On how it lingers. On how it feels. Nothing else, Taehyung.” A pause. “I want you to think of nothing except this.”

He lifts the riding crop and just before landing the first hit, Yoongi presses on the remote again. 

Taehyung moans when the plug starts vibrating again, but when the crop lands on his asscheek his voice breaks and then draws on, shock and pleasure bleeding into it.

“Fuck,” Taehyung chokes out, trembling slightly. “ Fuck.”

Yoongi lands a second hit on the same spot, grinning when he hears Taehyung gasp and sees his cock twitch. He rubs the tip of the riding crop over the spot he just hit, then lifts it to land the third hit. Taehyung jerks forward, and whimpers. 

“Spread your legs.” Yoongi rolls his shoulder, and he notices that he’s breathing faster. The high is kind of coming to him, and he welcomes it. “Like that, spread out like a slut.”

Taehyung makes a noise at this, hips rolling up, his legs parting just a bit more, maybe subconsciously, maybe on purpose. Yoongi taps over his cheeks with the tip of the crop, snorting when Taehyung tenses and flinches at every soft hit. Then he lifts the crop and sends it down fast, the hit dry and quick, leaving behind a pretty red mark. Taehyung tenses with a groan then moans when he clenches around the plug, his legs buckling for a moment.

“ Haah—fuck, ” he gasps, his bound hands grabbing onto the bed sheets. 

Yoongi hits him again; once, twice, three times, each hit the same strength but Taehyung’s skin is sensitive by now, bruised red and raw with it, and so Taehyung’s voice keeps getting louder, the pitch strained, high, his words a slurred, nonsensical string.

It steals a laugh from Yoongi, especially when Taehyung tries inching away only to then think against it and raise his ass even higher, his cock flushed and dripping between his legs. 

“Look how fucking hard you are,” Yoongi murmurs, voice thick. He drags the riding crop over Taehyung’s plugged hole and then down to the length of his dick. 

At this, Taehyung goes fully still, his fingers twitching over the mattress.

Yoongi is not going to hit him there. Not with a riding crop, at least. Still, the simple proximity of the leather tip seems to be enough for Taehyung to tense all over, to have his breathing go shallow and quick. 

Yoongi can amuse this little fantasy for a while. “Wonder if you could come from this.” He rubs the tip up and down Taehyung’s cock, laughing quietly when he sees it twitching. “I bet one hit here and you’d come all over the bed.”

“No,” Taehyung whines, hips hesitantly jerking forward. “C-can’t do that.”

“Can’t do what?” Yoongi asks, tapping over the side of Taehyung’s dick gently, carefully.

“Oh , god —” Taehyung groans, back arching. “Hyung can’t hit me there, i-it’s scary.”

 Yoongi hums. “I don’t think you get to tell me what to do.” He taps it again twice, breathing deep and slow at the whimper Taehyung lets out. “Scary, you say. Taehyung-ah, sweetheart, you’re tied up, legs spread out for me, dripping fucking wet because I whipped you.” Yoongi then starts rubbing the leather crop over the tip of Taehyung’s cock. “You’re not scared, you fucking love this.”

Taehyung breathes out a moan, hips rolling down when Yoongi keeps rubbing over his cockhead, the leather shiny with precum. “I love—love it, hyung, don’t stop.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi swallows, throat tight, his body so hot he’s sweating under his thin shirt. “Want more?”

“ Yeah .” Taehyung thrusts his cock against the leather, the crop’s tip sliding along his length. He clenches around the buzzing plug, lube sliding down his balls. “More.”

“Ask nicely, then.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung moans, thighs quivering. “Hyung, please, hit me more, I wanna—make it hurt more, please. ”

Yoongi sucks in a rough breath, satisfaction settling heavily in his chest. This boy is a goddamn miracle.

He lifts the crop and then brings it down in three harsh hits, and Taehyung screams, and thrashes on the bed, cock jumping between his legs, his hole clenching tight around the plug. 

“Thank you!” Taehyung cries out, hips jerking up with each following hit. “Fuck, hyung, f-feels—” The rest of his sentence is lost to the heady, drawn moan he can’t hold back.

Yoongi reaches inside his pocket and finds the remote; he ups the vibrations until the plug is buzzing loud and strong, and before Taehyung can process the new setting, the harshness of the pleasure it brings, Yoongi lands two more hits over his heated, flushed skin. He starts squirming, legs pulling together, and Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs,” he hisses and lands a quick hit with each word, grinning when Taehyung keens, pushing his knees apart again.

And now Taehyung’s voice is the loudest it has ever been yet, and it cracks, strained and overwhelmed before slowly morphing into long and breathy whimpers and moans.

Yoongi watches how the tension melts off of him, the muscles of his thighs softening, knees sliding over the bed sheets, spreading his legs even further. Chest fully pressed to the mattress, shoulders completely lax, Taehyung just lays there.

Yoongi looks at him for a moment, panting. “You—color.” He waits for two seconds. “Taehyung? I need your color.”

Taehyung just—hums. Then he murmurs something, hips rolling blindly into nothing. “‘s green—”

Oh.

Yoongi steps to the side of the bed to look at Taehyung’s face. “ Oh .”

Taehyung’s lips are parted, breaths shallow and slow, drool caught over the swell of his bottom lip. His eyes are lidded, wet with tears, and his pupils look goddamn huge, dark and bottomless, cheeks flushed red. 

“Oh, darling, you are so gone , aren’t you,” Yoongi muses as he reaches for Taehyung’s damp hair, tucking a strand behind his ear. “Good boy, finally letting go.”

Taehyung blinks, eyes closing when Yoongi strokes over his cheekbone. He keeps moving his hips in jerky thrusts, moans slipping out of his mouth as the plug keeps stimulating him, but he looks fully lost in it, completely at ease in the headspace he fell into.

Yoongi reaches beneath him and between his legs, taking Taehyung’s cock in his hand and giving it a slow, loose stroke. Taehyung immediately starts fucking into his hand, crying out softly and dazed.

Yoongi has had clients get into subspace often, it’s not uncommon, but—fuck, Taehyung did it so early into his scenes, this is only their fourth play. Not only that, the fact that it’s Yoongi who helped him get to this stage is sort of fueling Yoongi’s ego a bit more than it should.

“Hyung—” Taehyung calls, his voice thick and shaky. “More.”

“Yeah? Wanna come?”

At this, Taehyung shakes his head, rubbing his nose over the bed sheets. “No, not—more.” He blinks his eyes open, and he looks so fucking gone, absolutely lost in it. Still, he looks at Yoongi when he whispers, “I wann’ it to hurt—more, p-please.”

Yoongi holds his breath for a second, then lets it go in a slow sigh. His cock twitches in his slacks, arousal burning hot inside him, and it’s been so fucking long since Yoongi felt this high off a scene… it feels almost too good to be true. “Good slut,” he whispers, moving to stand behind Taehyung again. “Hyung’s gonna give you what you want.”

Taehyung hums, rocking his hips back and forth but he goes still and cries out loud when Yoongi pulls the plug out of him and instead fills his twitching hole with three of his fingers. 

No more riding crop, his skin is too bruised and it’s Taehyung’s first time going under. He’s going to make this easier for him just this once.

His hand lands with a harsh sound over Taehyung’s heated skin just as he crooks his fingers inside of him, and Taehyung arches with a broken noise. And he’s so hot inside, sucking Yoongi’s fingers in, wet and tight when he clenches around them.

“You’re perfect,” Yoongi says as he spanks Taehyung again, fingers rubbing circles over his prostate. “Fucking perfect painslut.”

Taehyung doesn’t even answer him, words lost, every breath he lets out a deep, rich moan as he rocks back onto Yoongi’s fingers, his voice going louder whenever Yoongi lands another hit. 

Next time—yeah, next time Yoongi will try and bring Taehyung into this headspace again and he’ll drag it out, let Taehyung enjoy this for longer. 

Now, though, Yoongi knows Taehyung is about to come and he’s not going to stop it.

He fucks Taehyung with his fingers deep and hard, pressing the right spot inside him in time with his hits, watching almost in awe at the way Taehyung’s body accepts pain and pleasure like he was made for it, like he can’t get enough, cock heavy and flushed.

One last hit, his fingers rubbing inside him, and Taehyung comes with a moan so loud it’s almost a scream, hips jerking, his body shaking through it, cock untouched as it spills over the bed sheets.

Soon, Taehyung drops to his side, legs curling close to his stomach as he pants, still letting out quiet, overwhelmed noises of pleasure.

“Good, you were so good,” Yoongi murmurs, stroking up and down his thigh. “You’re alright, just breathe. Hyung’s here.”

Taehyung hums and doesn’t even try to move. He lies still, sated and still gone, and doesn’t react at first when Yoongi quickly works the cuffs off his wrists. It’s only when Yoongi starts stepping away that he makes a sound, something unsure and inquisitive.

“Not going anywhere, just getting something to clean you up,” Yoongi says as he heads to the bathroom, his voice loud so that Taehyung can hear him. He’s quick to dampen a towel with warm water, and he goes back inside the room. 

Taehyung blinks at him and sighs with a pleased little noise when Yoongi starts cleaning him up. 

“Mh, let me take care of you.” Yoongi smiles at him. “I’m gonna have to take care of the bruising, and then you can lay down on the couch, yeah?”

Taehyung just sighs again, but his mouth curls into a smile and his breathing evens out. 

After putting some ice over the bruised area and then massaging some lotion over his skin, Yoongi helps Taehyung to the couch.

If last time Taehyung was clingy, today he’s downright sticky. He happily lies on his stomach with his head resting over Yoongi’s lap, arms wrapped around Yoongi’s hips, blankets pulled up to his chin. 

Yoongi doesn’t mind. It takes time to come down from a high like that, and that goes for both of them. So he turns on the TV, puts on the music channel, the volume low, and he strokes Taehyung’s hair while watching music videos of whatever songs are at the top of the charts for the day without really paying attention.

After half an hour or so, Taehyung squirms.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, looking at him.

Taehyung frowns. “Gonna fall asleep.”

“That’s okay.”

“Don’t wanna bother hyung.”

Huh. He’s still calling Yoongi that. Maybe he hasn’t snapped out of it yet.

“You can take a nap, Taehyung.” Yoongi rubs a hand down Taehyung’s side. “How about you sleep for a bit and I make tea?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already closing. “‘mkay.”

“You’re feeling alright?”

Taehyung sighs, mouth thinning into a smile. “So good.”

Yoongi maybe lets Taehyung sleep for a bit more than it would take to make tea. Just maybe.

Still, at one point he boils water and lets Taehyung’s favorite tea brew before bringing the mugs to the small living room, setting them on the coffee table. Taehyung wakes up easily when Yoongi shakes him gently by the shoulder, and he seems to be more aware when he sits up straight and accepts the tea with a quiet thanks.

“Still feeling good?” Yoongi asks, sitting next to him.

Taehyung nods, blowing over the tea. “It was—I don’t know how to explain it. I think I’m still a little—” He snorts. “Out of it, I guess.”

Yoongi nods and drinks some of his tea. “It’s alright, there’s no rush.”

“It was good. I mean—I feel like that was obvious, but it really was so good. I was aware of what was happening, but…” he hesitates for a moment. “I just stopped thinking. I felt so-so light? My head was so quiet. It’s never that quiet. And I felt like everything was so easy, that if I just let you take control I’d be safe and—and that I would have felt perfect.”

Yoongi looks at him, gripping the mug tight. “Did you feel like that? Perfect?”

Taehyung presses his lips together, a faint blush on his face when he nods.

“Good,” Yoongi says. “You were perfect, Taehyung.”

Taehyung stares at him after this, eyes wide. He says nothing for entire seconds, but there’s something about the expression he’s making—something vulnerable about it that almost makes Yoongi get up and hug him.

Which is not exactly professional, so he doesn’t act on it. But—well, the thought is there.

“Since it went well, can I assume you might want to try being in that headspace again? Maybe for longer?” Yoongi asks and Taehyung wordlessly nods. “Good. We’ll work our way there. Anything new you wanna try out?”

“I—okay, I know today was kind of a reward,” Taehyung starts saying, looking at his mug. “But is it okay if I can make you come next time too? It doesn’t have to be like today, but…I liked making you feel good. But! But I’d understand if it’s not something you’re interested in, you were very clear on your boundaries and today was—”

“Alright.”

“Oh.” Taehyung blinks, lifting his eyes from the mug to look at Yoongi with open surprise. “I—really?”

Yeah, really?

For real, what? Why did he reply so quickly? Taehyung is right, he has boundaries, very firm ones, boundaries he built for years. 

But Yoongi keeps thinking about how it felt to have Taehyung’s mouth on him, how it was to orgasm during an actual scene, and—maybe he just missed that kind of feeling and pleasure. 

“Yes.” Yoongi clears his voice, rubbing his thumb over the side of his mug. “You trusted me today, Taehyung. A lot. And in turn, I feel like I can trust you too. So, yes. You can make me feel good again.”

Taehyung smiles, wide and genuinely excited at the prospect, and he nods to himself while sipping on the tea. Then, he says, “And there is something I want to try, though I’m not sure if it’s even possible.”

“Which is—?”

“Forced orgasms.”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. “Huh. Should have figured that out.”

Taehyung frowns. “Figured what out?”

“Insatiable as you are, it makes sense—”

“Don’t be mean to me, Yoongi-ssi.”

“I wouldn’t dare be mean out of a scene,” Yoongi replies with a grin, enjoying the flush that creeps up Taehyung’s cheeks. “We can do that, though. Forced orgasms. Works a little differently with men, but we can do it in our next scene if it’s something you’re interested in.”

“Nice!” Taehyung clears his voice. “Neat.”

“But I need you to do something during the days before our next session if it’s something you’re comfortable with.”

“Oh, sure. What is it?”

“I’m going to need you to keep your phone on you at all times,” Yoongi answers. “And whenever I call you, or whenever I text you to, you’re going to have to have an orgasm the way I instruct you to.”

Taehyung’s reaction is—amusing. He blushes, abruptly, and hard, almost losing hold of his cup.

Yoongi doesn’t feel smug about it. He swears it. Leaning back into the couch, Yoongi grins. “So?”

After a moment, Taehyung whispers, “Fuck yes.”

Chapter Text

“So at that point, Jimin walks in, says his line.” Seokjin twists around on stage and points to the side. “Taehyung walks in from the second wing, and stays in the back, listening to Jimin speaking with Hyungwon. Taehyung, you’re going to leave again once Jimin says, I know what you have done, Jaehyun. ” Again, Seokjin turns around, this time pointing to Hyungwon. “You have noticed that Taehyung was there and you realize what that implies: Jimin’s character, Minjae, will have to die too. At that point—”

Taehyung rolls his shoulders and stops listening, sinking into the mildly uncomfortable theater seat. He’s not in the next few scenes so he doesn’t need to pay attention all that much. 

It’s going to be lunch break soon, and he starts idly fantasizing about what he could eat. He didn’t pack anything today, so maybe he could finally go to the nearby bistro and try something there. Jimin and Hyungwon will probably come with him, and if he plays his cards right Jimin will pay for him. Because Jimin can’t say no to him.

His phone buzzes in his pocket then, and Taehyung checks the notification with a frown. 

Min Yoongi

Are you working?

Oh.

Oh, shit, is it time?

Swallowing, Taehyung types out a quick reply, telling Yoongi that he is not needed for the next scenes. Immediately, Yoongi’s response arrives:

Min Yoongi

Good, you have ten minutes

to find somewhere private.

“I need to take a piss,” Taehyung blurts out embarrassingly loudly. The theater goes silent for a moment, then some members of the cast start laughing.

From the stage, Seokjin sighs. “You’re not at school, Tae, go do what you gotta do.”

Without wasting any time, Taehyung rushes out of the stage room, promptly ignoring the look Jimin is giving (that’s the problem working with your best friend who knows you too well, nothing goes past him) and soon he’s climbing up the stairs to reach the changing room. 

He locks the door behind him and, out of respect for shared spaces, he also locks himself in the small en-suite bathroom. It’s a cramped space with nothing more than a toilet, a sink, and the tiniest shower known to mankind, but it will do.

He texts Yoongi, informing him that he’s ready, and waits.

Their last scene, two days ago, was probably one of the most intense experiences of Taehyung’s life and he has a feeling he hasn’t completely recovered mentally just yet. Maybe he had a dream about it and maybe he woke up hard and leaking in his boxers, and maybe he had to jerk off in his bed, still half asleep, lazy and needy. Maybe.

And now this. 

Yoongi hasn’t explained to him why this is happening yet, simply told Taehyung that he’d know the next time they meet. Not that Taehyung cares that much.

There’s something about this—about Yoongi telling him what to do even when they’re not in the same room, that has Taehyung jittery with excitement.

His phone buzzes again, and Taehyung reads the text holding his breath.

Min Yoongi

I want you to jerk off.

And I want proof you came.

Taehyung gulps.

Proof. Okay. Sure. He’ll… figure that out later.

For now, Taehyung puts the phone away and undoes the buttons of his slacks. Would he even be able to come in a place like this? He and Jimin share this damn bathroom. Actually, would he ever be able to get hard at all—

“Oh.” Taehyung stares at the outline of his hardening dick under the fabric of his boxers. “Well, that’s embarrassing. But convenient.”

Okay, maybe he is turned on. 

With a sigh, Taehyung starts palming himself over the soft fabric, closing his eyes and leaning against the locked door. He doesn’t have lube or anything that might be helpful here, but that’s a problem for later. He also can’t take his sweet time with this, it will be lunch break soon and Jimin will probably come looking for him.

Oh, god, what if Jimin walks in on him, he has the key to the changing room and—

His cock twitches against his palm.

“Oh, why am I so fucking nasty?” Taehyung groans quietly. 

Screw this. He’s gonna make it quick.

Without sparing it too much thought, Taehyung pulls down his boxers and starts stroking his dick. The touch is dry and rough, but—it’s fine. It’s good. It hurts. Just a bit, just enough.

Taehyung hums, slowly falling into a rhythm. He wraps his fist around himself and strokes the length with slow movements, tightening his grip around his cockhead, and rubbing his palm against it. 

Yoongi’s hand would probably feel much better than his.

Yoongi would hold him till, he’d tie his hands behind his back, and touch him just right. 

Taehyung moans quietly, but in the small space it sounds far too loud. 

Turns out that thinking about Yoongi does the trick, who would have thought?

So Taehyung indulges in the fantasy. 

In his mind, they’re in this same bathroom, and with the space being so cramped they’re pressed flush against each other. Yoongi would be standing behind him, an arm wrapped around his stomach, the other around his cock. Taehyung’s wrists tied loosely with his scarf. 

Taehyung feels his palm getting slick with precum, and he quickly strokes himself faster, kneading the head of his dick. That feels good, that feels so—

“Fuck,” Taehyung hisses, fucking into his fist with quick snaps of his hips.

He imagines Yoongi laughing in his ear, his mouth pressed to the side of his neck. And his voice, so deep when they play together, deeper than when they’re just talking over tea, saying, Such a slut, Taehyung, doing this where anyone could hear.

Taehyung whines, his strokes faster, tighter. 

He’s close, he’s so close, and he just wants to come, wants Yoongi to see he’s been good, make him proud—

Taehyung pushes a hand under his sweater and then drags his nails over his nipple hard. The flash of pain is what does it for him, and he’s coming all over his fist, over the sink, biting down his bottom lip to keep himself from moaning too loud, his breaths echoing into the bathroom.

After a few moments, Taehyung collects himself. 

Proof.

His hand is shaking when he reaches for his phone again and, before he can think against it, he takes a photo of his hand, covered in cum, skin shiny with it. Then he sends it and swallows the shame and mortification. 

He washes his hands and cleans the sink quickly, the water turning scalding hot. 

By the time he’s made himself presentable again, Taehyung receives another text.

Min Yoongi

Good boy.

We’ll talk soon.

“God,” Taehyung murmurs. “I want him to fuck me so bad.”

╭─────╮

“You win.”

Yoongi blinks and looks away from the monitor of his computer, and frowns at Namjoon. “How the fuck did you even get in my studio?”

Namjoon, looking wholly unimpressed, closes the door behind him and drops over the black couch at the side of the room. “You gave me the code, hyung.”

“Huge mistake on my part.”

“Hilarious.”

“What did I win?”

Namjoon sighs. “I’m gonna do the public scene at the club in three weeks.”

Yoongi hums, fixing the glasses higher up the bridge of his nose. “Your boyfriend is cool with it?”

“We talked about it and he doesn’t have a problem with it so long he gets to watch.” Namjoon frowns. “Which I now realize is just another one of his kinks.”

“Hah. He played you.”

“He’s too smart, that one.” Namjoon grins, a little dopey and very much in love. “I kinda wanna marry him.”

“Disgusting.” Yoongi rolls his office chair and turns back to his monitor. “I wanna be the flower boy.”

“Who said you’re invited?” Namjoon stays silent for a few moments, then asks, “So, how’s it going with the new kid?”

“It’s going well and that’s all you’re gonna get from me.” Yoongi then waves a hand over his shoulder. “Now, off you go. I have work to do.”

“God, you’re so rude. You’re awful. I hope whatever track you’re working on undersells.”

“I hope Jungkook breaks up with you, then.”

“Please don’t say that, I’ll cry.” Namjoon gets up and walks out of the studio, then adds, “Don’t be a stranger, let’s go out for dinner one of these days. So you can meet Jungkook, I wanna introduce you two.”

Yoongi hums, already focusing back on his work, and the door closes again.

Two hours later Yoongi has a headache building just behind his eyes and frustration making him restless and jittery.

He thought everything was going smoothly, that he was making good work, but at one point he ended up getting stuck on a verse and now the entire song feels like a waste of time.

Suddenly, the bridge sounds empty, and the pre-chorus boring, and was the layering always so messy?

With a groan, Yoongi takes off his glasses and starts rubbing his forehead. He’s tired, and he’s annoyed, and nothing is working right now.

He needs a break. What time is it anyway? He checks his phone and is surprised to find out it’s already late, almost 10 PM. He skipped dinner. Namjoon is going to kick his ass if he finds out.

“‘s kinda late,” Yoongi muses to himself, tapping his finger over the side of the phone. “He must be done with rehearsals.”

Without wasting any more time, Yoongi opens his contacts list and calls Taehyung.

He needs a break, after all. This will do just fine.

The phone rings with no answer for a handful of seconds, long enough that Yoongi starts worrying that maybe Taehyung might be asleep already, but just when he’s about to lose hope the call gets picked up.

“Yoongi-ssi?”

“Am I disturbing you?” Yoongi asks. 

“Oh, not at all. I’m just—I’m home.”

Yoongi hums. “What were you doing?”

After a moment, Taehyung answers, “I was about to shower.”

He grins. This is good timing. “Leave the shower for later.”

Yoongi hears Taehyung’s breath hitch before he replies, “Yes, hyung.”

“Do you have lube?”

“Yeah.”

“Get in bed, you’re gonna come for me.”

He listens wordlessly while Taehyung swears under his breath and starts going through a drawer. Then, the sound of a mattress creaking softly, of bed sheets rustling. 

“All set?” Yoongi asks, and Taehyung hums. “Put me on speaker, you’ll need both hands.” He glances at the door of his studio. There’s probably no one in the building by now, and Namjoon is the only one with the code anyway. “I want you to touch your chest until you get hard.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything. Yoongi waits, listening carefully, and he might not be able to pick up the sound of skin being touched but he most definitely can hear the way Taehyung’s breath quickens, how it gets stuck in his throat.

“Feels good?” Yoongi asks, leaning back in his chair. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out. “It’s—good. But it feels better when hyung is the one touching me.”

Yoongi smiles to himself, pleased with this little discovery. “Don’t worry, I plan on playing with your chest plenty next time.”

Taehyung sighs out a quiet moan. “‘m hard .”

“Good boy. Get your hand nice and wet for me.” Yoongi spreads his legs, closing his eyes. “Make it messy. I wanna hear how wet you’ll get.”

For a while, there’s mostly silence. The sound of the lube’s cap being opened, the shifting of a body on the bed sheets. Then, Taehyung lets out a noise. 

“You’re being quiet.” Yoongi wets his lips. “Shy?”

“Just— on the phone is—hnng—’s embarrassing.”

“I had you in much more embarrassing ways, Taehyung.”

“Fuck.” Taehyung swallows audibly. “Hyung—”

“Don’t go slow, Taehyung. Fuck into your fist, let me hear you.”

And from then on, Taehyung stops being quiet.

He moans deep and loud, bed sheets rustling as he starts moving, and the sound of lube, wet and sticky, squelching as Taehyung fucks into his fist is crystal clear. Yoongi sighs, his body getting uncomfortably warm.

He can imagine what Taehyung might look like right now. Naked and flushed on the bed, legs spread wide as his hips snap up, his cock slick with lube as it slides into his fist. What expression is he making right now? The tense one he gets when he’s close? Or the lax, blissed one when he finally lets go?

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines, his voice much closer to the phone. “Hyung, gonna come.”

“Already?” 

“Please, c-can I? Feels g-good, I’m so close.”

Pretty boy, asking for permission even when I’m not there. 

“Come for hyung.”

Taehyung’s breaths catch for a moment, and then he’s moaning, the sound muffled like he’s covering his mouth.

“That’s it,” Yoongi whispers, his mouth dry, heart pounding. “Good boy.”

“Thank you ,” Taehyung sighs after a moment. “Fuck. That felt good.”

“Lucky you.” Yoongi straightens up. “Are you feeling okay? Do you need me to stay on the phone?”

“No, I-I’m fine. Promise.”

“Alright.”

“Now I really need that shower.”

Yoongi snorts, shaking his head. Endearing little shit. “Have a good shower, then. I’ll text you tomorrow.”

“Good night, Yoongi-ssi.”

The call ends, and Yoongi puts the phone on the desk. Then, he looks down and glares at the bulge in his pants. “Goddamnit.”

╭─────╮

Hoseok is everything Jimin told him about and some more.

He’s loud in the nicest, funniest possible way, when he’s talking about something, or telling them about a silly anecdote, but quiet and focused when he’s listening to someone.

Taehyung is glad they managed to find a day that worked for all of them to meet over some food. Jungkook even had a free day from work and got to meet Hoseok too (which matters , because Jungkook and Taehyung have been secretly ranking every single of Jimin’s boyfriends and it’s of the utmost importance that they don’t miss anyone). 

Taehyung feels like, so far, Hoseok is definitely getting at the top of the list. Which is no easy feat: it’s a long fucking list.

And Jimin might always be very cautious when he first starts dating someone—builds walls just in case, doesn’t let most people break them, keeps every new person at a safe distance for a while—but it’s absolutely obvious that he’s completely enamored with Hoseok. Whenever Hoseok laughs Jimin stares at him starry-eyed and everything, it’s almost embarrassing.

Once dinner is over they decide to move to a bar nearby for drinks and later into the night the four of them have drank too much soju and ordered even more. Turns out Hoseok cannot hold his alcohol for the life of his, which means that after four shots he looked ready to fall asleep, and then all of a sudden was hit with a sudden burst of energy.

Now, drunk Jimin is a silent menace on his own, but with a drunk Hoseok? They’re atrocious.

“I thank that website every day for making me meet Jimin,” Hoseok sighs before downing another shot of soju. “Best sex of my life.”

Jungkook snorts, slapping his thigh. He’s drunk too, the lisp keeps slipping out. Sober Jungkook can usually hide it.

And Taehyung is glad he decided to drink as well because there’s no way he’d be able to have this kind of conversation without alcohol in his system.

“You’re all kinky fuckers, right?” Hoseok slurs then. “So, y’know, I feel comfortable talking about it.”

“It’s all good,” Jungkook replies, filling another glass. “I lost shame the moment I met Jimin-hyung.”

“You’re welcome.” Jimin then grins in Taehyung’s direction. “Our Taehyungie is more of a late bloomer, but I feel like he might be the dirtiest out of us all.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Suck my dick.”

“Can’t, I’m taken.” Jimin folds one leg over the other and adds, “Taehyungie is also a hypocrite.”

“I am the truest person you will ever meet, actually,” Taehyung says, looking at Hoseok. “Your boyfriend is just an ass.”

“Taehyungie thinks it’s weird that I started dating you after meeting you on a website as if he hasn’t found a dom to hire on the internet too.”

“First of all, I don’t think it’s weird, I think it can be dangerous.” Taehyung shrugs. “I used a reliable website to hire someone while you use a website to meet strangers. It’s just a different kind of danger.”

“That’s fair, actually,” Hoseok agrees, nodding. “I’ve used that website for a while, so now I know how to spot the red flags, but it’s full of creeps there.” He pauses, rubbing a hand over the thin bracelet that hangs over his wrist. “That being said, I’ve always had nice experiences there. I guess it’s ‘cause I know how to move there, so I never met anyone weird. You can, like, scope out the creeps from the first private message you send on there, honestly.”

“So it’s safe?” Jungkook asks. “I mean, I can’t really speak here, I also hired a dom on the website Tae-hyung used.”

“Yeah, and now you’re fucking dating him.” Jimin shakes his head. “What kind of cliché is that? Something like that could only happen to you.”

“To answer your question, it’s relatively safe as long as you’re careful. But that goes for any dating app,” Hoseok replies, and then he looks at Taehyung. “You’ve only started experimenting and doing scenes recently with only that one guy, right?”

“Yeah.”

“If you ever wanna, y’know, have a one-night stand with someone who has similar kinks I can help you to find someone on that website.”

“That’s—” Taehyung grabs his glass and downs more soju. With a grimace, he puts the glass down again. “I’m not looking for anything like that right now. But if I ever get curious then I’m definitely gonna ask for your advice.”

Then Jimin grins and says, “He’s not curious ‘cause his dom weekly fucks him up.”

Hoseok whistles and raises his glass. “Good for you.”

Yep. Indeed.

For the past six days, Taehyung has had at least two orgasms per day. Either Yoongi texts him, or calls him, and Taehyung is far too eager to drop whatever he’s doing in favor of doing whatever Yoongi’s feeling. Two days ago it had been teasing himself for more than half an hour, barely touching his cock, until Yoongi texted him he could finally come. Last night, Yoongi told him to hump a pillow and Taehyung did without even feeling embarrassed about it. This morning he ended up locking himself in the changing room’s toilet in the middle of rehearsals. Again.

“Yeah,” Taehyung murmurs. “Good for me.”

╭─────╮

It starts raining the second Taehyung walks into Yoongi’s flat.

“Got here just in time,” Taehyung mutters as he sits at the table, waiting for the usual tea. “I don’t have an umbrella with me.”

“I’ll lend you one if it’s still raining later.” Yoongi starts trafficking with two mugs, the kettle whistling as the water boils. 

Taehyung hums, looking at him. Yoongi is giving him his back now, and Taehyung just stares for a while. He really does have broad shoulders. And his neck, too, is thick. His hair has gotten long enough that it curls at the ends, down to his nape.

Taehyung licks his lips and clears his throat, looking down at the table. What’s with him now? Getting all hot and bothered from something he’s noticed from the first moment he met this man, is he that desperate? He spent the entire week having at least one daily orgasm thanks to Yoongi, one would think he’d be less thirsty.

Or maybe—maybe that’s exactly why he’s so excited.

When a mug appears in front of him, Taehyung startles and looks up.

“Did I scare you?” Yoongi asks him, eyes wide with surprise. 

“Oh, no. No, just—” Taehyung forces a smile, shaking his head. “Was a bit lost in my head.”

Yoongi sits down with a hum, fingers tapping slowly over the side of his mug. “Nervous?”

“Do I look nervous?”

“You look like you can’t sit still.”

Taehyung blinks. Oh. 

Yoongi’s right. He’s only noticing it now, but he really is restless, shifting around in the chair and fidgeting with the hem of his heavy sweater. “It’s not that I’m nervous. Actually, I’m excited.”

Yoongi rests his chin on the palm of his hand, smiling. “I’m sure you are.”

“There you go again, Yoongi-ssi, teasing me.”

“You make it very easy.”

“That’s just rude and false.”

Yoongi laughs, his eyes curving, faint lines at the corners of his eyes. Taehyung feels his mouth run dry and quickly drinks more of his tea. 

“So, today will be—intense,” Yoongi says after a few moments, straightening up. “Forcing orgasms can be both overwhelming and stressful. There will be moments when you’ll ask me to stop or to wait; you’ve done it already when I overstimulated you. I said this in the email too, but I’ll say it again.” Yoongi looks Taehyung in the eyes, and there is nothing but earnest seriousness on his face. “Today, saying stop or wait won’t work. Today I only stop at a yellow or red.”

Taehyung is not quite sure how he survived normally up until lately when he’s such a fucking masochist, because just being reminded of this is enough to send a shiver of arousal through him.

Taehyung is well aware that this plays into a fantasy of his: being overpowered, being put in his place, made helpless and weak, and at first, he felt ashamed of it but—Yoongi welcomed his idea without a second thought, without judgment.

“There’s a lot of trust involved in this,” Yoongi adds. “So if you have any second thoughts, I understand. Just remember, always, that I’ll never do something you don’t want.”

“I know.” Taehyung breathes in. “I trust you. I trust you with this.”

Yoongi nods. “And I trust you to use your colors right.”

“I will. I swear.”

“Alright.” Yoongi smiles. “Drink your tea and, when you’re ready, you can take a shower.”

╭─────╮

When Taeyung steps out of the shower, the first thing he does is stare with open interest at the tools prepared on one side of the bed. 

Yoongi studies his face for a few moments, watching the way Taehyung doesn’t blink away as his eyes travel over the vibrator, then stare for a few moments and then end up on the ropes. That’s when he swallows visibly, his chest swelling with a breath that he doesn’t release.

“Come here,” Yoongi says and he taps over the mattress before stepping back. “On your knees.”

Taehyung hesitates only for a moment, still distracted by the props, but eventually climbs on top of the mattress before settling there on his knees, robe folding over his lap. His eyes keep flitting to his side, where the rope is. 

He really must be looking forward to being tied up.

Yoongi stands in front of him and reaches for his face, tilting his chin up until Taehyung is looking at him. “Give me your color.”

“Green.”

“Close your eyes. Like that.” He strokes over Taehyung’s cheekbones, then over the space under his eyes. “Until I tell you to open them, keep them closed. If you open them before then, there will be a punishment. Understood?”

Taehyung nods, eyes squeezed shut. Cute. Always trying so hard.

He could have blindfolded him, but Yoongi wants to see him struggle a little. Just for fun.

Yoongi reaches for the robe’s belt, pulling at it until it loosens. He pushes the sides of the folds away, exposing Taehyung’s chest. When he runs his fingers just shy of Taehyung’s nipple, a shiver runs through him.

“You’re so responsive already.” Yoongi glances down: between his thighs, Taehyung’s dick is twitching. “One would think that getting to come every day for an entire week would sate you a little. Instead, you’re just as greedy as usual.” Then, he rubs his thumb around Taehyung’s nipple without touching it directly. “I’ve been thinking about it, you know? That you’re so insatiable.”

Taehyung’s lips part around a soundless little noise, eyelids fluttering. His eyes don’t open though, and he doesn’t answer.

“I kept wondering about just how far I can take you. How much pleasure can you take before you start begging?” Flicking at Taehyung’s nipple, Yoongi adds, “Before it gets too much.”

Just when Taehyung looks like he’s about to say something, Yoongi starts rubbing slow, teasing circles around Taehyung’s nipples. Whatever he was about to say turns into a deep sigh. Taehyung’s back arches as he leans into the touch, nipples perking up, a flush spreading all over his chest, faint and pink. 

For a while, Yoongi takes his time working Taehyung up. He keeps his touches light and teasing and just as Taehyung eases into it he applies more pressure, pushing with his fingers, groping at Taehyung’s chest. When a few whines start slipping out, Yoongi drags his blunt nails over the areola, until Taehyung gasps; when he pulls them back, his skin looks red. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Yoongi slowly reaches for something by Taehyung’s side. 

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers. 

“Wanna make it hurt more?”

When cold metal presses against Taehyung’s swollen nipple, he hisses through his teeth and squirms for a moment. “Hyung—”

“These are nipple clamps. And they will hurt.” Yoongi rubs the clasp against Taehyung’s skin, smiling at the tremor that runs through him. “I think you might just love it, though.”

The clamps look scarier than they are. They’re simple tweezer clamps, the tips a firm rubber. But Yoongi had these custom-made ages ago, and they are tight, They’re not clover clamps, but they will hurt just right and will work perfectly for a first-timer. Plus, they have little weighted bells attached to them. They’ll look lovely when Taehyung will, inevitably, start shaking. 

Taehyung nibbles on his bottom lip, eyes closed; a blush starts spreading down his neck. Yoongi wonders if he’s aware of it, but Taehyung has been rolling his hips for a while now, cock untouched and swelling between his legs. 

“What do you say?” Yoongi asks, pulling the clasp away and rolling it between his fingers. “Do you want them?”

Slowly, almost shy, Taehyung nods.

“Use your words.”

“I want them,” Taehyung breathes out, and then quickly adds. “Please.”

Yoongi hums. “Please what?”

“Please, hyung, I want it to-to hurt.”

“Good boy.” He lets the clamp hover just around his left nipple, opened. “Say it again.”

Taehyung sucks in a quick breath, brows pulled together, mouth shiny and red where he bit. “Please, make it hurt, I want it to hurt.”

Yoongi lets the clamp close.

Taehyung doesn’t scream, but it’s a close thing. The noise he makes builds deep in his chest and gets stuck in his throat, caught between a snarl and a groan. Taehyung thrashes and pulls back on instinct, his abs clenching and he ends up leaning back on his hands, fingers fisting the bedsheets.

“ Fuck! ” Taehyung’s eyes are squeezed closed again, tension clear in his neck and the line of his jaw. “Hyung—”

“That was only one.” Yoongi murmurs. “Make this easy for me and stop moving. Actually, stay just like that. You look pretty.”

Taehyung moans a little at the praise, and his thighs spread. He doesn’t just look pretty , he looks perfect like this; chest exposed and bare, cock twitching between his legs, hardening under the burning pain of the clamp.

This time, when Yoongi closes the clamp around Taehyung’s nipple he also reaches for the tip of his cock, kneading it lightly between his fingers. At the unexpected pleasure that quickly mixes with the immediate pain, Taehyung rolls his hips and moans, mouth hanging open. 

“Good,” Yoongi croons. “What do we say?”

“Thank you,” Taehyung gasps, his head lolling back. “Oh, fuck, it hurts.”

“You’re welcome.” Yoongi grins and then licks his lips. He eyes, for a few moments, the way the clamps are closed around Taehyung’s hard, puffy nipples, all red and sensitive. The two silver bells sway in the air, adding extra weight, and Yoongi flicks his finger over one of them. Taehyung flinches, a whimper caught in his throat when the clamp twists around his nipple. 

He’s breathing heavily, quickly. But his cock is fully hard and leaking under Yoongi’s teasing touches, his body shuddering faintly whenever the bells sway and shift the tight clamps.

“So lovely.” Yoongi rubs the pad of his thumb over one of the sensitive nubs and has to swallow a moan at the noise Taehyung lets out. “Shit, you look unreal.”

Taehyung swallows, hands still tightly holding onto the bed sheets. “T-thank you.”

“Can you straighten up for me? Like that. Take the robe off.” Yoongi reaches for the rope next. “Give me your wrists.”

Taehyung quickly does as he’s told, shrugging off the smooth robe and holding up his wrists once he's naked. Yoongi holds them both in one hand loosely, rubbing a thumb over Taehyung’s pulse: it’s quick, steady.

“I’m using silk rope today,” he explains slowly, eyes fixed on Taehyung’s face to check for any reaction. “It’s softer, easier to untie if necessary. It won’t hurt the way other ropes do. Maybe one day we can use ropes made to bring pain, but that’s not why I want to tie you today.” The rope is solid where it’s rolled up in his hand, and Yoongi lets himself get used to the texture of it. “Today I’ll only tie your hands. Give me your color.”

“Green, hyung.”

“Alright.” So Yoongi gets to work.

It’s not like he hasn’t thought about doing much heavier bondage with Taehyung. Clearly, he’s interested too and it’s something he would enjoy. And Yoongi would find nothing but immense pleasure in watching him squirm uselessly, all prettily tied up, with diamond patterns criss-crossing over his chest, with his legs tied together so that he can’t even try to move.

But Yoongi has a feeling his sadistic streak has only been growing ever since he started working with Taehyung; today, Yoongi wants him to feel helpless but, most importantly, he wants to see him struggle . 

“You’ll try to push me away at some points,” Yoongi says as he ties the rope around Taehyung’s wrists, looping it in the middle. “Your body will do it and you won't be able to control it. This will take care of your arms later on, but your legs will be able to move. Do you know what that means?” When Taehyung shakes his head, Yoongi tugs at the rope and leans down. “It means I get to make you stop moving.”

Taehyung’s breath hitches and for a moment it seems as if his entire body is ready to lose tension—to drop all strength—just before a quiet, drawn-out moan slips out of his mouth.

“Oh, you like that.” Yoongi breathes in, deep. He loops one last round of rope before tying a knot. With one hand, he holds onto the leftover rope, long enough he can use it as if it was a leash. “Which part do you like? The fantasy of fighting me? Or me overpowering you?”

Taehyung whispers, “Hyung—”

“Maybe both. Maybe you just want to be put in your place and—”

“I want to touch you.”

Yoongi falters, his sentence cut off. After a moment, Taehyung seems to realize that he might have spoken out of turn and grimaces. “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just—”

“Touch me where?”

Taehyung’s fingers start fidgeting, but with his hands tied like this and Yoongi holding onto the rest of the rope, there’s not much he can do. And he still hasn’t opened his eyes, either. “Wherever hyung is fine being touched.”

“Why do you want to touch me?” Yoongi asks after a brief pause. “To make me feel good or because you need comfort?”

“I—both?” Taehyung swallows, lids fluttering. “Hyung, both.”

“You’re alright.” Yoongi lets go of the leftover rope to take Taehyung’s wrists in his hand before guiding them between his own legs, where his cock is starting to harden. “You can touch me. Just over the fabric. Don’t make me come, but you can touch me.” Once Taehyung works enough courage to palm at his crotch, Yoongi brings his hand behind Taehyung’s nape and guides him closer, until he can press his forehead to Yoongi’s chest. This seems to do it; Taehyung deflates faintly, letting out a long sigh. “Color, Tae.”

“‘m green,” Taeyung mutters, nuzzling over the smooth fabric of Yoongi’s loose shirt. His fingers cup over Yoongi’s bulge, applying a faint pressure. “Green, I just need a moment.”

Yoongi hums. “It’s alright to be nervous.”

“‘m not.”

“No?”

“I want to—what you mentioned, all of it, I want it so bad. Want hyung to-to keep me still, to pin me down. Wanna feel like I have no escape.” Then, in a quieter voice, he says, “I wanna feel used .”

Yoongi feels his dick twitch under Taehyung’s palm, his skin warm even through the fabric. He curves his hand around Taehyung’s nape, squeezing there, feeling his pulse. “That’s something I can do for you.”

Taehyung hums, relaxing further against Yoongi until his weight is a physical thing against him. A minute or so passes before Taehyung pulls his hands away. “I’m alright now.”

“Color.”

“Green.”

Yoongi grabs Taehyung’s hair and drags his head back. “Look at me.”

Holding his breath, Taehyung opens his eyes, blinking quickly at the sudden light of the room. He looks Yoongi in the eyes without hesitation, his gaze steady, and confident.

Yoongi presses the pad of his fingers to his mouth and Taehyung opens it without a second thought, humming around the digits when Yoongi pushes them inside, pressing down his tongue. “I only stop at a yellow or red today. Tell me you understood.”

“Yeah—” Taehyung breathes out around his fingers, suckling them wetly. 

“Good boy.” Pulling out his fingers, Yoongi brings them to the tip of Taehyung’s swollen nipple, trapped in the clamp, to rub at it until Taehyung starts to squirm and whine. “On your knees, ass up.”

Taehyung quickly gets in position, arching his back and leaning on his elbows, the weighted bells of the clamps brushing over the mattress. 

Yoongi makes quick work of coating his fingers with lube, feeling an excitement so strong he almost drops the bottle with how quickly he reaches for it. 

Then, he’s rubbing circles around Taehyung’s asshole, watching as his hole clenches around nothing, tight and shiny with lube. The first push of his finger has Taehyung tense, but he relaxes the deeper Yoongi goes. 

“No need to hold back today,” Yoongi says, pulling his finger back and then deep inside again. At the next thrust, he adds a second one. “Or, well, there’s no use. You’ll come when I want you to come.”

“ Hmmh , fuck—”

“You’ll come even if you think you can’t.” Then, he chuckles. “Look at this, sucking my fingers in. Fucking greedy hole. Spread your legs more.” 

Taehyung does so with a groan, his back having to arch at an even lewder angle with his knees so far apart. Yoongi pushes his fingers in deeper but keeps a slow pace, prodding at his walls as he pulls them back, feeling Taehyung go tight around him whenever he teases just around a spot that must feel good. When he adds a third finger, Yoongi also sends his free hand down in a sharp slap against Taehyung’s asscheek.

Taehyung startles, shifting forward, and then lets out a choked noise when his nipples brush against the bedsheet. 

“Stop moving,” Yoongi says, and lands a second hit on the same spot. “Did it hurt?”

“It hurt, thank you,” Taehyung gasps, trying his best to not lurch forward again when Yoongi hits him again. “Harder.”

“Shut up, you don’t get to tell me how hard I hit you.” Yoongi wets his lips and grabs Taehyung’s asscheek, pulling it to expose his hole more. “Oh, look at how well you’re taking them. It’s like your hole’s begging for something bigger.”

Taehyung moans, his arms shaking where they’re holding him up. Soon he won’t be able to hold on, and he’ll end up sprawled on the bed, clamped nipples pressed to the mattress. 

“Not yet though.” Yoongi crooks his fingers and starts stroking, focusing only on his prostate. 

Immediately, Taehyung cries out and starts shaking, his cock leaking clear precum over the bed. “ Oh god, fuck— ”

“You’re making a mess already. So sensitive… you weren’t this sensitive when you first showed up.” Yoongi lands another hit, this one harder, quicker. Taehyung’s hips flinch, and a harsh tremor runs down his body. “You became such a good hole.”

Taehyung whimpers, hips rolling back into Yoongi’s hand clumsily, like he can’t quite control himself. He’s so tight around his fingers, hot and wet, and he is starting to lose the hold of his voice with how he’s moaning, the pitch higher, overwhelmed by the constant stimulation on his prostate. When Yoongi hits him again over the now reddened skin, Taehyung’s arms give up, elbows sliding over the smooth bed sheets until he’s pressed to the mattress, a sob ripped out of him as his nipples brush over the fabric.

“ Close, ” Taehyung keens. “Please, I’m gonna—gonna come.”

Yoongi adds pressure, stroking the same spot, lube dripping down Taehyung’s hole. He feels Taehyung clench, sees him shake, and knows he’s going to orgasm. So he reaches between Taehyung’s legs and circles the base of his cock with his fingers before squeezing hard.

Taehyung comes with a deep, startled noise, cock twitching but only a weak spurt of cum dribbles down his length. Soon, he’s trembling, hips thrusting into nothing, desperate for a better release, for more.

“No, no,” Taehyung sobs, voice trembling. “What—hyung, please...”

“Oh, did I ruin that for you?” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “That’s unfortunate.”

He waits for Taehyung to calm down and, slowly, he pulls his fingers out and lets go of his cock. Then, before Taehyung can gather his breath, Yoongi grabs him by the hips and rolls him to the side. Grabbing his thighs, he forces Taehyung onto his back and pulls him closer to the edge of the bed, until Taehyung has to cross his legs around his waist to not fall.

Taehyung stares at him with huge, watery eyes, mouth parted around shallow breaths, with his bound hands resting over his belly.

“Well, there’s no other choice,” Yoongi mutters, smiling at Taehyung. “Guess we’ll just have to try again.”

Taehyung blinks before his expression shifts from surprise to one of sheer awe. “Yes, please.”

The vibrator is smooth, black silicone. It’s not the biggest thing Taehyung took, but it’s ridged and curved, with a swollen tip. Taehyung takes it with something close to a growl and then completely melts the second Yoongi turns it on. 

His body accepts pleasure without hesitation, Yoongi has learned by now, and he plans on taking full advantage of it. With Taehyung’s legs firmly wrapped around his waist, Yoongi fucks him with the vibrator hard and fast, laughing at the wanton moans Taehyung makes, flicking at the tip of his flushed, swollen cock. 

“More,” Taehyung slurs, eyes closed, mouth shiny. “Please, t-touch it more.”

“No,” Yoongi replies, flicking at the tip again. “Greedy sluts don’t need their cocks touched.”

Taehyung just whines and squirms, his tied arms bent above his head to grab at the bedsheets, but his cock twitches and leaks, and his ass goes impossibly tight around the vibrator. 

He loves this. 

Yoongi can’t stop looking at him, at how his body keeps arching over the little space he has on the bed, at the blissed look in his eyes whenever he manages to open them. And every time, when he does, he looks at Yoongi, stares at him with unshed tears before his eyes roll back and he’s gone again, giving in to pleasure, to the onslaught of stimulus. 

The position isn’t the most comfortable: Yoongi’s arm is at an awkward angle and his muscles are burning to keep up with the harsh pace he set up, but fuck—Taehyung looks so good like this, and the pressure of his thighs around his hips feels good , feels grounding even for Yoongi. So he pushes through, changes the angle of the vibrator, and pushes the soft button at the base to take the vibrations up a notch.

Taehyung groans, body twisting, muscles clenched. In a hiss, he says, “ Gonna come, I’m coming. ”

And this time, Yoongi lets him have this. He comes, untouched, spilling all over his belly, shaking through it when Yoongi keeps fucking him with the vibrator, legs going so tight around him it hurts. 

Yoongi turns the vibrator off when Taehyung’s orgasm washes off but leaves it inside of him. He waits for Taehyung’s breathing to ease, for his body to relax.

Then, he takes Taehyung’s weeping cock in his hand and strokes it. 

Taehyung chokes, eyes going huge, mouth opened around something soundless. He shakes and tries to lift his head, but only ends up whimpering when Yoongi starts kneading his cockhead, slick fingers sliding over the sensitive skin hard and quickly.

“ Wait !” Taehyung manages to cry out. “C-can’t, hyung!”

“That’s not what you say if you want to stop,” Yoongi hisses, quickening the pace of his fist, wrapping his fingers around the tip at the upstroke. “But you know that already.”

Taehyung’s head falls back, his back arching, legs trying to push at Yoongi. He just slaps at his thigh and keeps going, watching as Taehyung’s strength suddenly snaps away and he lays there, shivering, trembling, his cock still hard, cum dribbling down the length, and still, he’s not done.

“That’s right,” Yoongi whispers, his fist tight when Taehyung starts fucking into it. “Good fucking boy, give me another.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung moans, voice high and weak. “So g-good, I feel so— haah —wanna come, make me come.” Then, staring Yoongi in the eyes, he whines, “Make it hurt .”

For a second, Yoongi feels the air knocked out of his lungs. Then he reaches for one of the clamps and, with a quick tug, he wrenches it off. Taehyung comes again without a sound, eyes rolling back and his entire body taut like a string, cock twitching and leaking over Yoongi’s fist, down his belly.

“God, Tae, that’s good,” Yoongi murmurs softly, slowing down his strokes until he lets go of Taehyung’s softening cock. “Good boy, so perfect.” 

Slowly, he eases Taehyung’s legs off of him, eyeing the way they keep shaking. “Give me a color.”

“Green,” Taehyung whispers, his voice hoarse. “I feel so—so good, hyung.”

Yoongi hums, stroking his hip. “Do you think you can lay down further up the bed?”

Taehyung nods after a few moments, and he rolls on his side to pull himself up, crawling into the center of the bed and then dropping there, curling into himself. 

“You’re still with me?” Yoongi asks as he walks over to the bedside table. He grabs the bottle of water with the soft silicone straw and helps Taehyung to sip a bit of it. 

“With you,” Taehyung murmurs once he’s drunk. His eyes are barely opened, but they’re vigil. “Feel—feel like I’m slipping.”

“Do you want to?” Yoongi asks. When Taehyung nods, there’s that fucking tightness in his chest again, strong enough that he almost chokes on it. “Good boy. Let's give you a moment to breathe, though.”

Taehyung nods, pliant and comfortable where he’s laying. 

Yoongi checks the rope, making sure it’s not too tight and that the knot is still holding.

Then, Taehyung says, “Hyung’s so hard.”

Yoongi lets out a snort. “Whose fault is that?”

Taehyung looks at him for a moment. “Can I make hyung feel good?”

Yoongi hesitates. 

It wasn’t out of the table when they planned out today’s scene, but it wasn’t outright agreed upon either. 

At his silence, Taehyung adds, “It’s fine if hyung doesn’t want to.”

“How would you make me feel good?” Yoongi asks. He reaches to press his fingers over the swell of Taehyung’s bottom lip. “With your mouth again?”

Yoongi feels Taehyung’s breath fanning over the tips of his fingers and watches, stricken with a warm rush of tenderness, as Taehyung leans in to press a kiss to his knuckles.

“Hyung can choose how to use me,” Taehyung whispers.

Turns out Yoongi’s self-control kind of flies out of the window when Taehyung says stuff like that.

Without a word, he reaches for the bottle of lube and moves to lie on his side, behind Taehyung. Using his mouth sounds good, but it would tire Taehyung out too quickly, and Yoongi needs him to hold out a lot longer today. 

“Hyung?”

“Stay still.” Yoongi undoes the buttons of his trousers after coating his hand with a generous amount of lube. “Hyung’s going to use you to feel good.” 

Against him, Taehyung shivers, his hips rolling in a small, jerky movement. Yoongi pulls out his cock and gives it a few light strokes, just to slick himself with the lube. He grabs Taehyung’s hip and then, carefully, he pushes his length between Taehyung’s thighs.

“ Fuck ,” Yoongi hisses at the smooth tightness that envelopes him. “Keep them tight like this.”

Taehyung hums, laying still. But he’s breathing faster already, and his thighs keep shaking around Yoongi’s cock. Maybe it’s the exhaustion from before, or maybe he just can’t help it; whatever the case, it feels good and Yoongi quickly picks up his pace. 

His cock, slick and hard, fucks Taehyung’s thighs fast, hips snapping against Taehyung’s ass; with each push, Yoongi can feel the toy, still inside Taehyung, shifting deeper inside him.

“Hyung,” Taehyung moans, his hands grabbing onto the bedsheets. “Deep, too deep.”

Yoongi wraps his arms around Taehyung’s middle and pulls him even closer. He makes sure that he keeps hitting the edge of the toy’s handle, to push it inside of him, his hand pressing down Taehyung’s belly. 

“Taehyung-ah,” he murmurs, voice thick, his lips brushing over the shell of Taehyung’s ear. “It looks like I’m fucking you like this.”

Taehyung flinches, his abdomen clenching under Yoongi’s hands. 

“Bet you’re so tight around that toy.” Yoongi brings a hand up to Taehyung’s chest, fingers pressing at the sides of the second nipple clamp. “Good boy, keep it warm as if it was hyung’s cock.”

At that, Taehyung lets out a long, breathy noise, rich and deep. His hips start moving, pushing back to meet Yoongi’s thrusts as if he was really being fucked. Yoongi moans against Taehyung’s nape, fucking between his thighs faster, skin now slick and so so warm and smooth around him. 

“Big,” Taehyung gasps, reaching down between his legs to feel the tip of Yoongi’s dick peaking between his legs at each push. “Hyung’s s-so pretty but you’re big.”

“Pretty?” Yoongi laughs, slightly breathless. “You’re the one— haah , fuck Tae, good boy, keep them tight like that.”

Taehyung pushes his legs together, crossing his ankles and soon they set a rhythm, with Taehyung rolling his hips back in time with Yoongi’s harsh thrusts, his fingers rubbing against Yoongi’s cockhead. Another snap of Yoongi’s hips must change the angle of the toy, because Taehyung cries out suddenly, his body shuddering hard.

“Are you hard?” Yoongi asks, words quick. He’s so close, it feels like he’s going to melt between Taehyung’s thighs. 

“Hard,” Taehyung moans. “Hyung, can I touch?”

In response, Yoongi reaches for Taehyung’s bound wrists and wrenches them away, pinning them down the bed as he fucks between his legs faster. Taehyung takes it with a trembling breath and doesn’t even try to put up a fight. 

He lays there and lets Yoongi use him how he prefers, hard and panting, skin slick with sweat and lube. With his next thrust, Yoongi is coming, cock throbbing and spilling between Taehyung’s thighs.

Yoongi collects himself for a few moments, mouth pressed to Taehyung’s shoulder. He pulls out from between Taehyung's thighs with a hiss, tucking himself back in his trousers, and sits up. 

“Color.”

Taehyung swallows, hips still rolling faintly. “ Hmmh —green.”

“Good boy.” Yoongi grabs the leftover rope that trails from the knot and, under Taehyung’s heady stare, pushes it inside the metal ring attached to the bed’s headboard. Tugging at it, he forces Taehyung’s arms up and loops it around the ring before securing it with a knot. When he looks back to Taehyung, he finds him panting and flushed, cock twitching where it curves above his belly. “Ready for more?”

Taehyung shudders and sighs, “ Please .”

In the next fifteen minutes, Taehyung comes two more times.

The first is from the vibrator, buzzing inside him at the highest setting, fucking into him at an angle that had Taehyung sobbing a garbled mess of “ Please, hyung please, don’t stop, lemme come, lemme come— ” His dick spilled untouched, come dribbling weakly down his flushed length. 

The second one takes them both by surprise when Yoongi pulls off the second nipple clamp and Taehyung just starts shaking without a sound, hips snapping up as a second orgasm, weak and ruined, wrecks through him. It leaves him dazed and panting, his body shivering at every little touch.

Yoongi brings a slicked hand down to Taehyung’s twitching cock and gives it a few hard strokes before letting go. He laughs at the hoarse groan Taehyung makes and does it again. And again. And again, until Taehyung is squirming, shaking, legs pushing at Yoongi’s hips.

“Hurts—” Taehyung whimpers, eyes closed and hair falling over his forehead, damp with sweat.

“You’re still so hard,” Yoongi muses, giving Taehyung’s cock a tight stroke. Then, he lets go and settles more comfortably between his legs before dragging his hands up Taehyung’s stomach, to his chest. The second his fingers tweak at his nipples, Taehyung thrashes, legs kicking down. 

“No, no, burns,” Taehyung cries out, arching up. “F-feels weird, I feel weird.”

“Give me your color.”

Taehyung whines, cock jumping, leaking a string of clear precum. “ Green .”

Oh.

Yoongi reaches to where Taehyung’s knees are pushing at his hip and grabs them before pushing them aside, forcing Taehyung’s leg open. “Then is this for show?”

“No,” Taehyung moans, pulling at the rope. “C-can’t stop moving, ‘m sorry.”

“Do you want to come?”

“I—I can’t.”

Yoongi slaps at his stiff cock, laughing when Taehyung’s eyes roll back. “Fucking liar.”

Yoongi goes back to playing with Taehyung’s chest. That seems to be the most sensitive area of Taehyung’s body by now, and every rough touch has Taehyung shuddering and crying out, his cock weeping.

“You look so filthy,” Yoongi whispers, his breath short. He stares at Taehyung’s puffy, bruised nipples, at the red finger marks he left all over his chest. “I bet you can come just from this.”

A sob ripples out of Taehyung. “ No , n-no, can’t, gonna—” He groans, head lolling to the side. “Feel so l-light, I—”

“Let go,” Yoongi tells him firmly, his fingers tugging and tweaking Taehyung’s nipples, rubbing against the hard nubs, groping at his chest. “Just let go, stop thinking. Hyung’s here.” He leans in and presses a kiss to Taehyung’s jaw. “You’re safe, I got you.”

The change is a gradual, slow thing. It starts with Taehyung’s breathing going from frantic to a slower, heavier rhythm. His body follows soon after, the tension melting, his knees dropping from Yoongi’s hips, hands no longer pulling at the rope. And then it’s his voice, that velvety richness of it shifting to something softer and light, airy. Yoongi leans down to take Taehyung’s nipple between his teeth and instead of trying to back away, Taehyung moans and arches into it.

“There you go.” Yoongi pulls back and finds Taehyung looking at him with a heavy gaze. “Feeling good?”

Taehyung blinks before giving him a slow nod. He tries rolling his hips up to grind against Yoongi, but a simple tap on his waist is enough to make him go still.

“That’s right, be patient.” Yoongi leans back and brushes a hand over his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Hyung’s gonna take care of you.”

This time, when Yoongi goes back to playing with Taehyung’s chest all he gets is hiccuped whimpers and moans. Taehyung stops fighting the feeling and fully embraces it, the burn and the pleasure alike, legs spreading wide, his cock dripping steadily over his flushed skin. If Yoongi were to touch him there, he’s confident Taehyung would come. So instead Yoongi brings his hand down to the base of Taehyung’s cock and starts massaging the area around it, applying more and more pressure as the seconds go by.

Taehyung gasps, hips snapping up. “W-what— hnn —hyunn’—”

“You can come just from this,” Yoongi says, keeping his voice soft, steady. “Clench your muscles here. Like that, good, just keep doing that.”

Taehyung throws his head to the side, jaw slack, overwhelmed cries coming out unabashedly. He keeps on clenching as instructed, going tight around the vibrator—should he turn it on again? Would Taehyung be able to handle it?—and with every press of Yoongi’s fingers around the base of his cock he gets louder, wetter, dick jumping.

Yoongi tweaks his nipple, pushing into the clenching muscles of his pelvis and Taehyung arches off the bed with a high, drawn moan, hips rolling blindly as an orgasm ripples through him. His cock, though, stays hard and nothing comes out. Just a bead of pearly cum that dribbles over his cockhead.

“Good slut.” Yoongi swallows hard, reaching down to pull at the vibrator’s handle. “Give me another one.”

When the toy starts vibrating again, Taehyung’s legs press around Yoongi’s hips again, but not to push him. Instead, they cross around his waist, pulling him closer as Taehyung’s hips roll down against the toy, into Yoongi’s hand as he starts fucking him with the vibrator again. Slow thrusts, measured, with a precise angle that makes Taehyung moan out slurred nonsense as his body shudders.

“ Close ,” Taehyung keens, unable to stay still but moving like he’s liquid, abdominals rippling. 

“Clench like you did before,” Yoongi tells him as he wraps a fist around the base of Taehyung’s cock, squeezing hard. “Do it again and then I’ll let you come.”

Taehyung whines, the sound then morphing into a groan as he starts rocking his hips again, sweat trailing down his neck and chest. Yoongi shifts the angle of the vibrator slightly, gives Taehyung’s cock another squeeze, and then Taehyung is clenching so hard Yoongi can barely move the toy as he watches him come dry again, cock jumping.

“ Haah , gonna—” A sob breaks through him, his hips still rocking back and forth. “Goin’ insane, gonna b-break.”

Yoongi sucks in a quick breath, his fingers shaking.

God he wants to push something even bigger inside of him, wants to force him to come over and over again, until he can’t even speak.

As the high of the orgasm washes off and Taehyung settles down again, still trembling and moaning as the vibrator keeps buzzing away, Yoongi gets a hold of himself and takes a deep, long breath.

“Good boy.” He turns off the vibrator and, carefully, pulls it out of Taehyung, watching the way his hole quivers, empty and slick. “Do you want your reward?”

Taehyung hums, legs still wrapped tightly around Yoongi’s waist.

Yoongi takes the lube again, coating his hand with it and warming it between his fingers. “Ready?”

“—old me.”

Yoongi blinks, lifting his head to look at him. “What was that?”

“Can you,” Taehyung closes his eyes, seemingly struggling to talk straight. “Hyung, hold me?”

There it is again, that tightness in his chest. It fucking hurts with how hot it is.

Quickly, Yoongi settles down by Taehyung’s side, an arm wrapped around him, pulling him closer to him. Taehyung sighs happily, shifting to lay on his side, head pressed in the crook of Yoongi’s shoulder.

“I got you,” Yoongi murmurs, his hand reaching between Taehyung’s legs, carefully wrapping around his cock. “Just feel good.”

With the first stroke Taehyung cries out hoarsely, overwhelmed, and when the pace picks up his hips start moving on their own again, fucking into Yoongi’s slick fist clumsily. 

Yoongi knows Taehyung won’t last long, and he has no intention of dragging this out. So he strokes him hard and fast, fist tight, and Taehyung’s moans are muffled into his skin, his lips brushing over it, tongue peaking out to lap ar Yoongi’s neck. He comes almost immediately, hard and loud, body spasming through it, spilling over himself and Yoongi’s fingers.

By now he must be so sensitive that it starts hurting quickly, and Taehyung’s moans turn into sobs, his tremors traveling all through him, down to his legs, toes curling.

“ Thank you ,” Taehyung chokes out when Yoongi finally pulls his hand away. “‘s so good.”

“You were perfect. You did so well, Taehyung, just let me—” Yoongi looks down between their bodies. They made a mess, and he needs to take care of it before Taehyung starts getting cold. But just as he’s about to move, he feels a kiss pressed to the column of his throat and he freezes.

“Hyung’s so good,” Taehyung murmurs over his skin, lips dragging over the spot he kissed. “So good to me, loved it s-so much.” Heaving a sigh, Taehyung’s body goes limp in Yoongi’s arms. “Thank you.”

Yoongi doesn’t move. Taehyung murmurs something again, but it’s so quiet and slurred Yoongi can’t make out a word of it. All he knows is that in the next second, Taehyung is out.

“Right.” Yoongi clears his throat, looking at the rope still tied around Taehyung’s wrists, linked to the headboard. 

He fell asleep. He fell asleep while still being tied up.

“Fuck, Taehyung.” Yoongi looks down at Taehyung’s sleeping face, serene and thoroughly fucked out. “ Fuck. ”

Taehyung wakes up to the smell of tea. 

With a frown, he blinks down at the several blankets wrapped around him, then at the room. This is not the bedroom. He’s definitely in Yoongi’s living room, on the couch, which would be fine if only he had any recollection of getting here in the first place.

Quietly, Taehyung asks, “Did I fall asleep?” 

“You did.”

Taehyung startles and he looks up, finding Yoongi standing just behind the couch with a mug of tea in his hand. “I… did?”

“Yep.” Yoongi smiles before handing him the mug, and Taehyung has to maneuver his arms out of the cocoon of blankets to grab it. “I wiped you down and cleaned you up, but if you need a shower you can use the bathroom once you’re feeling up for it.”

Taehyung nods. “How—did I get here?”

Yoongi stares at him. “Obviously I carried you.”

“Oh no.”

“It’s alright.”

“I must have been so heavy, I’m so sorry.” Taehyung rubs a hand over his face, feeling absolutely mortified. “Fuck, I didn’t even mean to fall asleep like that.”

“It’s really okay, Taehyung-ssi. You’re not that heavy.” 

“This is so embarrassing.”

Yoongi looks at him for a moment or so before walking around the couch and sitting at the end of it, right next to where Taehyung’s blanket ends. “I actually found it very telling.”

“Telling?” Taehyung grips the mug tight between his hands, feeling the warmth seep into his skin. 

Yoongi nods and there’s this… shadow of a smile on his face, something quiet and honest. “It means you trust me.”

“I mean, of course I do.” Taehyung takes a sip of the tea. He tries bringing his legs up to give Yoongi more space but—yeah, they feel like they’re made out of jelly. “I trust you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“You fell asleep,” Yoongi starts saying after a second, his gaze serious. “While you were still tied up.”

Oh.

That’s… new. 

All the other times, no matter how exhausted Taehyung felt, he refused to fall asleep. Especially when he was tied up, or cuffed, the idea of sleeping when being in such a vulnerable situation never crossed his mind. 

He felt like he had to stay awake, and vigilant. And today he just—fell asleep? Like that?

“ Oh. ” Taehyung swallows, fingers prickling with the heat of the mug. “I’m… I’m sorry if it made you uncomfortable or—”

“No.” Yoongi shakes his head. “No, it didn’t. Don’t think for one second that something like this could make me uncomfortable.” Then, he rubs his nape and says, “I’m really glad you felt at ease. It means a lot.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything. 

He looks at Yoongi and thinks about those last moments in his bed. At how his body felt, the heaviest it had ever felt, at the deep wave of satisfaction that settled deep into him, the sheer exhaustion of it all and how good that felt. 

He thinks about how Yoongi looked at him when he held him, at how his voice sounded when he told him he was perfect.

Taehyung thinks about how at that moment, right before falling asleep, he was about to say, “I loved it, hyung, I love you.”

He almost drops the mug.

“Careful with that,” Yoongi mutters as he stands up. “Stay there, I’ll get you some chocolate. You need to get some strength back.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers. “Right. Thanks.”

Huh.

This might just be the dumbest fucking mistake of Taehyung’s life.

╭─────╮

Don’t ask questions

Just send me the link.

SENT 11:34 PM

JIMIN-AH

??? 

Dude I waqs about to fall asleep

What link what r u on about

The link to that forum

The one where you met Hoseok

Send it to me.

SENT 11:36 PM

Chapter Text

“I really am starting to think that this is a terrible idea.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes at the phone screen, where Jimin’s face is staring right back at him, judgy arched eyebrow and everything. Screw video calls and whoever came up with them, it’s a whole lot harder to make awful decisions when your best friend is watching you like a hawk.

“I’m not hearing this from you,” Taehyung replies as he adds the finishing touches to his account’s profile. “You wouldn’t shut up about this damn site and now that I cave you wanna stop me?” Reaching for a glass of red wine he had prepared earlier for some liquid courage, Taehyung takes a generous sip. “Nope. I’m doing this.”

“I would be just fine with you making a profile there if it was under normal circumstances,” Jimin replies dryly, voice thin from the phone’s speaker. “But you’re making one to…what, forget that you’re in love with your fucking dom for hire?”

“Okay, first off, not in love.” Taehyung clears his voice, squinting his eyes at the laptop’s screen. “Just… a crush or something. Tiny crush.”

“You’re the one who said you almost told him you loved him.”

“It was in the middle of a scene and I was gone, Jimin. Doesn’t count. It’s just a tiny crush and I’m gonna stop it before it turns into something else.” Taehyung nods to himself. “No fucking way I’m gonna fall in love with the guy I pay to mess me up. I’m not Jungkook. Do I really fucking add my list of kinks here?”

“There’s literally a section specifically made for it, so yes.” Jimin sighs loudly. From the corner of his eye, Taehyung sees him shaking his head in the small phone screen. “I mean—if Jungkook managed to turn his professional dom into a boyfriend can’t you do the same?”

“Nope,” Taehyung replies quickly, trying to not feel too embarrassed as he types out bondage, sub, masochist, into the white window just below the ABOUT ME section. There are several subsections there and they’re starting to give him a headache. “Why is this so detailed?”

“Just as a heads up, any account that has every single subsection completely filled out is a huge red flag,” Jimin tells him. “Normal people like us just fill out the first two, so don’t worry about the others. Just focus on the kink list.”

“God, that’s such a weird sentence.”

Still, under Jimin’s watchful eyes, Taehyung gets to it and, half a glass of wine later, the profile is done and live on the website.

“So do I just—” Taehyung shrugs. “Wait?”

“Trust me, they’ll come to you.” Jimin sighs and at some point he must have also gone to get something to drink since he’s nursing a glass of pale rose liquid. “You don’t even need to post anything, you’ll show up in the explore area since it’s a freshly made profile. Just give it a few minutes.”

Taehyung hums, leaning back in the chair and taking small sips of wine. After a while, he hears Jimin sigh again and he rolls his eyes. “What now?”

“I just don’t understand why you’re doing this. You were right, this isn’t your style. And I don’t see how sleeping with a random person will make your crush on your dom go away.”

Taehyung taps his finger on the glass. “I have a theory.”

“Oh, that never bodes well.”

“I think that the only reason why I developed this crush is that Yoongi is my first and only BDSM experience.”

“Right.”

“So since I don’t know anything outside of what Yoongi and I have been exploring I—” He shrugs. “Imprinted or something.”

On the screen, Jimin grimaces deeply. “What are you even talking about?”

“It makes sense in my head, okay?” 

“So—” Jimin groans and quickly takes a long gulp of his drink. “Okay, so you think that if you have experiences with other people you’ll lose this—this feeling you’re developing? ‘Cause Yoongi won’t seem as special anymore? Or as necessary?”

“Exactly!” Taehyung exclaims, looking at Jimin’s face on his phone. “You’re way smarter than me, ‘cause I was not able to put it into words.”

“Okay, it’s still a bullshit idea.” A pause. “But somehow… it makes sense in a really warped way.”

A notification appears over the Private Chat icon. “Oh, shit, someone wrote to me.”

“Read.”

“What if it’s a creep?”

“It most likely will be, but you can just block them.”

Taehyung clicks on the icon, opening the chat. He blinks. “It’s a fucking dick pick.”

“Ah, yes. That happens too.”

“It’s not even a good-looking dick.”

“Just block him.”

“This is going to be a long evening.”

Jimin just takes another deep breath before walking out of frame, only to reappear a few moments later: this time, in his hand, he holds the entire bottle of rosé.

It is, indeed, a long evening. 

Taehyung counts seven dick picks, five asshole picks, and several dry and curt messages asking to meet up at the most random love hotels, most of them out of Seoul.

Jimin calls red flags for every single one of them and Taehyung has to refill his glass.

It’s not all bad. Some users welcome him to the forum, others start genuine conversations and upon finding out just how recent his experience is (“Good way to scope out creeps,” Jimin had told him at one point. “That way you can see who’s gonna try to take advantage of that.”) some offered advice and made themselves available in case Taehyung had any question that might fall under their expertise or interest.

All in all, Taehyung can see that it’s a genuine and open community, and that’s reassuring. That being said—

“Literally three people already asked if you wanna meet them.” Jimin sighs. Glancing at the screen, Taehyung sees he’s moved to the couch, wine bottle still in hand. “You keep turning them down even though they seem nice.”

“I know,” Taehyung whines. He’s never been a good drinker and the two glasses of wine are already getting to him. “It’s just…I feel no spark.”

“Taehyung, you’re looking for someone to fuck the crush out of you, not a husband. You don’t need a spark.”

“I’d like a spark, though.”

After a pause, Jimin says, “I think you’re too much of a romantic to be doing this.”

“Maybe you’re right,” he admits, deflating. “Screw it. If I don’t get a decent message in the next five minutes I’m deleting the account and we’ll both pretend this never happened.”

So they wait.

A minute passes. Two. 

He gets another dick pick and, along with it, a text that reads, Wanna see heaven? ;) 

Taehyung blocks the user and tries forgetting he ever had to read the words USER heavenlydick92 with his own eyes.

Three minutes.

“Maybe I’m doomed to have a crush on the guy I pay to tie me up,” Taehyung mutters.

“Or maybe it’ll pass on its own.”

“I highly doubt it.”

Four minutes.

“Or maybe,” Jimin says. “Maybe he’ll reciprocate your feelings and—”

A new message appears.

“We don’t live in a fairy tale, Jimin-ah.” Taehyung clicks on the notification and watches the chat load. “Let’s be realistic here and— oh.”

“What?”

Taehyung blinks and rereads the message. “It’s just… it’s a sweet message.”

And the username is not something atrocious like before, but a simple HeeJ88n_95. 

Welcome to the forum! I’m sure it must be

a bit overwhelming, I remember it was chaotic when I first signed up.

But I hope you’re not regretting your decision, there are lots

of nice people too 

“It is sweet, yeah.” Jimin narrows his eyes at him from the screen. “Check the profile.”

No red flags there either. HeeJ88n_95 only filled the about me section and the kink list just like Taehyung. 

Seoul-based, top dom, just looking to meet new people.

A quick read-through of his list tells Taehyung that they share… a lot of common interests.

“If it’s really him in the profile picture then he’s ripped.” Taehyung looks at the photo, a mirror selfie that shows a hint of chin and abs that could rival Jungkook’s.

“Text him back?” Jimin shrugs. “He seems nice.”

So Taehyung does.

HeeJ88n_95 is new to Seoul, moved at the start of the year, and through the forum, he’s met several people and he still keeps in touch with most of them as they became friends. He tells Taehyung that he works as a bartender in a club in Gangnam and that he’s also trying to get a second major. He asks Taehyung about what he does (to which Taehyung just vaguely answers that he works in the entertainment sector) and if he was born in Seoul, where he studied. 

Then, he sends, You’re nice to talk to! If you want to, can we move this conversation to Kakao? Only if you’re comfortable w/ that 

“What do I do?”

“Not Kakao. Ask for his Instagram.” 

Taehyung does and immediately receives a link to HeeJ88n’s Instagram account.

“Green flag,” Jimin says. “Usually if they’re catfishers or creeps they never have Instagram or other types of social media and only stick to Kakao.”

“Fuck, he’s hot.” Taehyung starts scrolling through the pictures. “Oh. He likes dogs.”

“Well, I guess we found our target.” Then, Jimin says, “Okay. Do what you do best.”

“Which is?”

“Seduce the shit out of him and get yourself a free dinner somewhere. And maybe also a good dicking”

Over the next three days, Taehyung and Heejoon (“Ahahah I know Im not very original I was panicking when I picked the username”) text several times.

Heejoon is nice and easy to talk to, and more than once hints at the possibility of meeting with Taehyung. 

Sadly enough, it’s the thought of Yoongi that holds Taehyung back. 

That is, until Yoongi texts him to tell him they will have to postpone their session to the following week, as he found himself so busy with work that there’s no way he can make time for him.

And Taehyung knows he’s reading too much into it, that when Yoongi says he can’t make time for him he doesn’t mean it in a cruel way, of course not. But it’s just—it stings something nasty inside Taehyung and he can’t bring himself to ignore it.

That same evening, he texts Heejoon to ask when they can meet up.

Taehyung stands in front of the address Heejoon sent him: it’s a small bistro that must have recently opened, the exterior of it decorated in a minimal, chic way. Peering inside one of the windows, Taehyung can see it’s definitely an intimate place, with dim lighting and a few, scattered tables, and more private seating areas in the corners of the room.

He’s never been to this part of Seoul, it’s a long way from his flat and he tends to not stray too far from it, but he can tell it’s full of high-end restaurants and bars.

He wonders if he’s underdressed for this, he could have worn something a bit more elegant. But it’s not like he’s wearing sneakers. And his dark, wool coat is probably one of the nicest things he owns.

He checks his phone for the time, knowing that Jimin will send him a text every fifteen minutes to make sure everything’s alright.

“Taehyung?”

He whips around and he’s met with a careful smile and a genuinely striking face.

“Heejoon, I imagine.” Taehyung smiles. “Hi.”

“Am I late?”

“No, I just got here.”

Heejoon nods and then gestures toward the door. “Let’s go inside?”

Granted, Taehyung hasn’t been on a date in… a while. Still, he thinks he’s doing fine. They order some wine with their meal and chat while eating and drinking and maybe it’s just a bit awkward, but all first meetings tend to be.

And once in a while, Jimin sends a text to check up on him and Taehyung reassures him each time with a different emoticon, making sure to be discreet about it.

So, yes, everything is going well. The food is good. The atmosphere relaxed. The conversation is pleasant. 

The only real problem is that Heejoon looks… nothing like Yoongi. 

He’s handsome and polite, but he’s really damn tall, and his hair is cut short. His clothes are all perfectly fitting, no loose white shirts or dark trousers. His cologne is a tad too strong. His eyes are large and they lack all the intensity of Yoongi’s.

But maybe that’s a good thing? Isn’t he here to forget about him? Move on from this silly crush of his?

“Taehyung?”

“Huh?” Taehyung blinks. “Sorry, I got distracted.”

Heejoon smiles, wide and dimpled. Which is—it’s cute. Probably. 

Yoongi’s smiles are always a lot more reserved and—no, what, why does he keep thinking about him?

“Am I boring you?” Heejoon asks.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry. Just had a long day. You were talking about a new possible job? In a better club?”

Heejoon hums, nodding. Then, he says, “Yeah, but—would you like it if we moved this conversation to somewhere more private.” Then he shifts forward on the small corner sofa, his knee brushing against Taehyung’s. “My place is nearby.”

Taehyung thinks about Yoongi.

He’ll meet him again in eight days for their session. He’ll meet him, and he’ll pay him, and everything will go as it always does and Taehyung will keep on having a crush on a man who sees him as a customer to please.

Fuck it.

“Yeah.” Taehyung smiles. “Let’s go.”

The moment they step inside Heejoon’s flat, Taehyung barely has the time to toe off his shoes before he’s pressed against the wall and kissed so hard he ends up groaning.

Okay. That’s… fine, a bit passionate, but sure. 

Taehyung kisses him back, letting himself be guided through the flat while Hejoon shrugs off his coat and then Taehyung’s, dropping them on the floor as he starts kissing along Taehyung’s jaw. 

They don’t turn on the light as they move, and eventually, they must reach Heejoon’s bedroom because the next thing he knows, Taehyung is laying on a soft, giving mattress, with Heejoon hovering above him, still dressed.

“You’re really fucking hot,” Heejoon says as he starts undoing the first few buttons of his dark shirt. “I bet everyone tells you that.”

Before Taehyung can reply, he’s being kissed again. He closes his eyes, humming, and Heejoon is a fine kisser, his mouth is soft but the way he kisses is almost aggressive. And that’s—it’s fine.

It’s fine.

The real issue, Taehyung thinks, is in the way Heejoon touches him. He’s so… rushed with it. He keeps pulling at Taehyung’s clothes like he wants to rip them to shreds rather than undress him, and he keeps pushing Taehyung’s hands away whenever he tries to touch him back, which is—

Suddenly, Heejoon makes a low noise and grabs Taehyung’s wrists before pinning them over Taehyung’s head. “Did I say you could touch me?”

Taehyung blinks in the darkness. Well, he hasn’t said he couldn’t either, so…

“Didn’t know that was off the table,” Taehyung answers truthfully.

Above him, Heejoon replies, “Oh, you must be a bit of a brat.”

What.

“I—”

“It’s a good thing I’m good at putting brats in their place.” Heejoon lets go of one of Taehyung’s wrists to press two fingers over Taehyung’s lips. “You’re gonna be a good boy once I’m done with you.”

Taehyung frowns.

Huh.

This guy kind of… isn’t very good at being assertive.

Maybe he should leave.

Just as he’s about to say that, he feels Heejoon’s hand abruptly wrap around his throat, applying pressure. Immediately, almost without controlling himself, Taehyung uses his free hand to swat off Heejoon’s. “What the hell are you doing?”

On top of him, Heejoon scoffs. “Really? Is this part of your brat thing, or—?”

“What?”

“You wrote in your list you’re into choking.”

Taehyung stays still for a moment, barely breathing. Then, he lets out an incredulous laugh. “Are you serious? So what if I wrote it there, it doesn’t mean you just go ahead and do it. We haven’t even talked about our colors and you want to choke me?”

“Colors— are you a prude or something?” 

“It’s called having fucking boundaries.” Taehyung shakes his head. “Look, just get off and—”

“Ah, you’re into this sort of play? You like playing hard?”

Taehyung’s mind goes blank with confusion. Then something clicks into place and he is hit with a cold, nauseating wave of fear. It grips him by the chest and freezes him completely.

Heejoon must take his silence as confirmation because, again, his hand wraps around his throat and it squeezes, hard.

Taehyung opens his mouth instinctually to breathe and almost nothing gets to his lungs. He shudders, tries rolling to the side, and finds that he can’t and that he still can’t breathe, not the way he should. Fear turns into panic, and then into something else, something hot, scorching, mean—

“See, you can be a good boy if you wanna.” Heejoon leans down. “Let’s count to ten and—”

Taehyung swings his free arm to the side and feels his fist collide with Heejoon’s face with a loud, dry noise. Heejoon lets out a groan as he falls to the side, off Taehyung, hand loosening around his throat. Immediately, Taehyung springs up and throws himself off the bed, gasping for air. 

“Yah!” Heejoon yells, holding a hand to his cheek, a thin trail of blood dripping down his nostril. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Taehyung, panting and stiff with anger, brings a hand to his neck. It fucking hurts. 

“I hope you fucking die,” Taehyung spits out, glaring at Heejoon. “Piece of shit.”

In a frenzy, Taehyung rushes out of the bedroom and sprints through the flat. He grabs his shoes by the door and doesn’t even put them on, his brain just screaming at him to run and get the hell away from that guy before he does something stupid like walking back inside to kill him with his bare hands.

Once he’s inside the elevator, doors closed, Taehyung blinks down at his socked feet. He should… put his shoes on. 

“Motherfucker,” he grits out while putting his foot inside the leather loafer. “Should have cut his dick off.”

Once he’s out in the street he wanders aimlessly for a while, until he realizes that he doesn’t know where he is. Heejoon had said his place was near the bistro but that was a fucking lie, they ended up taking a taxi to get here. And Taehyung was stupid enough to not check where they ended up.

He walks for a bit longer, pushed forward by some unknown strength, but then his legs suddenly start feeling unfamiliarly unsteady. 

“Huh.” He stops and looks at a bench not far from him so he goes there and sits down. This is better. God, there’s no one around at this time. It’s all just condos and the road, but there aren’t even cars driving by. He could call a taxi. Although that’s gonna be pricey, his house is on the other fucking side of the city.

With a sigh, Taehyung reaches into the back pocket of his trousers and takes out his phone. He’ll just call Jimin and ask him to pick him up. 

He squints at his screen, his sight all weird and unfocused. He must be tired, whatever. Quickly, his fingers a bit clumsy, he goes to his list of most recent phone calls and clicks on Jimin’s ID.

The phone rings for a few seconds. A lot of seconds, actually, which is weird because Jimin is probably glued to the phone to send him those texts so—

The call connects.

“Tae—”

“Jimin, listen, can you—can you pick me up? It didn’t go well, he—whatever, just—”

“Taehyung-ssi?”

Oh no.

“Taehyung-ssi,” Yoongi repeats on the phone, his voice hoarse and quiet. “It’s… late.”

“Fuck,” Taehyung whispers and rubs a hand over his nape. “I’m so sorry, I-I called the wrong number. I’m s-sorry, I didn’t mean to-to wake you up.”

Yoongi stays silent for a moment. Then, “Hold on, you—”

“I’m so sorry, just need to—I’ll call my friend, it’s fine. I’m sorry again, I’ll see you next—”

“Taehyung,” Yoongi murmurs then, terribly soft, careful almost. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Taehyung blurts out, blinking fast. His eyes fucking hurt. “Called you by-by mistake.”

“Yeah, no, I got that much. Just—” A sigh. “You’re crying, I think.”

Taehyung pats his cheek and his hand comes out damp and cold. “Oh. I am.”

“Right. What’s wrong?”

“I—” Taehyung suddenly can’t speak. His throat gets clogged up, and his eyes sting, and he’s still panting and his fucking neck hurts. When he tries to talk again, what comes out is a pathetic, loud sob that cracks through him and leaves him even more winded. “Fuck.”

From the phone comes the sound of fabric rustling. “Taehyung?”

“I don’t know where I am,” Taehyung cries out, his voice ringing in the empty road. “And—and I’m—hyung, I’m so f-fucking scared.”

“Okay, listen to me: send me your location, I’ll pick you up.”

Taehyung rubs at his face harshly, feeling his skin drenched and cold. “N-no, it’s far from—”

“I don’t care. Send me your location.” There’s the noise of fast footsteps, and closets opening. “Taehyung, just let me help. You’re alright, I’ll get there. I swear.”

For some reason, that just makes Taehyung cry harder.

Twenty minutes later, Taehyung managed to stop sobbing his heart out. He sits, dazed and tired, with a building migraine, on the bench and stares at the empty road.

He texted Jimin at one point and told him he went back home, and they’ll talk tomorrow, that he’s fine. Best not to make Jimin worry for now. 

After a while, a car appears and zooms right past Taehyung. Then, a few meters later, it screeches to a halt before it reverses at high speed, this time stopping in front of Taehyung.

Yoongi steps out of the car looking like a storm and rushes over to him. “Are you hurt?”

Taehyung stares at him and shakes his head.

Yoongi nods, his hands fretting around Taehyung’s shoulders like he’s not quite sure what to do. “You—Taehyung, you’re shaking like crazy.”

“What?” Oh, right. “My coat. I forgot it.”

“Where?” Yoongi asks. “Do you want to go get it or—”

“I don’t want to go back there,” Taehyung blurts out. Then, he swallows and shakes his head. “It’s fine. I have my wallet and phone.”

Yoongi takes off his coat and without a word lays it over Taehyung’s shoulders. “Okay. Let’s go, I’ll take you home. Can you stand?”

Taehyung nods before standing up. His legs don’t feel as weak anymore and he’s calmed down enough that he can get inside Yoongi’s car without any help.

He’s fine. Really. Honestly.

Yoongi starts driving after Taehyung gives him his address and, for a while, they don’t speak.

Taehyung starts shivering at one point, and Yoongi just turns on the heating. He doesn’t ask questions and just drives, glancing at Taehyung every once in a while.

Honestly, Taehyung is glad Yoongi is not asking him anything. He needs some quiet for a while to gather his thoughts.

The fear is gone by now. 

What replaced it is a very hot and simmering anger that clings to him with a damn vengeance.

Yoongi thinks he’s doing well at looking calm and collected when, really, he feels like he might be about to have a heart attack.

Hearing Taehyung sobbing like that on the phone was scary enough, but seeing him just—sitting on that bench, pale and dazed, disheveled and absolutely blank in the face threw him in a flurry of panic that he’s been swallowing down for a while now.

From the moment they got in the car, Taehyung hasn’t said a single word. Now, as they stand in front of Taehyung’s flat, he’s still quiet as he pulls out his wallet to fish out a key card. 

The door opens with a beep and Taehyung slips inside wordlessly. He doesn’t close the door and Yoongi takes it as his invitation to go in as well.

Taehyung turns on the lights as they walk through a narrow corridor that opens into a quaint, cozy living room. There are closed doors at one side of the room, and overall a sense of very organized chaos. It’s all warm tones in here, and Yoongi realizes that, yeah, this definitely looks like a place Taehyung would live in.

“Do you want to drink something?” Yoongi asks at one point, after Taehyung stands in the middle of the living room for a while, just staring blankly at a corner of the room.

“No,” Taehyung replies thinly. Then, “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

“Sure. Nothing happened in the end.”

Yoongi frowns. “Something did happen, though.”

Taehyung just shrugs. 

“Look.” Yoongi clears his throat, looking around himself. “You don’t have to tell me what exactly went down, but you also don’t have to pretend like you’re alright.”

When he looks at Taehyung again, Yoongi meets a hard, steady gaze. Taehyung blinks. “If I said I’m not fine what would you do?”

“Whatever you need me to.”

“Like what?”

“I can stay tonight if you want.” Yoongi nods towards the couch. “I can just sleep there if it helps to have someone in the house.”

Taehyung doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks away and starts staring at the sleeves of Yoongi’s coat, still hanging over his shoulders. With a start, he straightens up. “Can you sleep with me?”

Yoongi’s fingers twitch.

“Not like—” Taehyung grimaces and shakes his head. “I’m not asking you to have sex with me, just to-to sleep with me. In my bed. But if that’s too much then, yeah, if you could stay I’d appreciate it.”

“I’ll stay with you. In your bed,” Yoongi replies carefully and he squints his eyes. There’s something about Taehyung’s behavior that keeps ringing alarm bells. “If it’s what you want, then sure.”

This seems to make him relax just a little. Taehyung breathes in deeply and then heaves a long sigh. “I think I’d like to drink something now.”

“Do you have tea?”

Taehyung nods. 

“Then stay there, I’ll make it for you. The kitchen is—?”

Taehyung points at a closed door and then goes to drop on the couch heavily. 

Finding the kettle and cups to use is an easy enough thing, so Yoongi starts boiling the water before he begins going through the cupboards and drawers to find where Taehyung keeps the tea. Eventually, he finds several boxes of the same kind Yoongi usually makes for him at his place, before their sessions. He must have brought them recently since only one of them has been opened and there are still several bags of it inside. 

When Yoongi walks back into the living room with two filled cups, Taehyung has not moved from the couch, but he took off the coat and has folded it by his side. He takes the cup without a word, barely looking at Yoongi, and doesn’t drink; he just holds it tightly between his hands, the tips of his fingers going pink from the heat. 

Yoongi sits on a small and surprisingly plush armchair and looks at him for a few moments. Before, when he had gone to pick him up and inside the car it was dark.

Now, though, Yoongi stares at Taehyung’s neck, unblinking, and very carefully sets the cup down on the wooden coffee table. “Taehyung.”

“Mh?”

“Who did that to you?”

Taehyung doesn’t give him much of a reaction. He simply replies, “It doesn’t matter, I’ll never see him again.” Then he blows on his tea before taking a sip. He adds, with a steady tone, “I did something stupid.”

Yoongi hums. He grits his teeth together for a moment, suddenly feeling his jaw go stiff. Still, once Taehyung starts actually explaining what went down, starting from the website and then telling him about meeting up with this Heejoon, Yoongi doesn’t speak nor interrupt and listens intently. There’s a flinch that shakes Taehyung when he gets to what happened in Heejoon’s flat, and then an almost visible resignation. “Maybe it’s my—”

“It’s not your fault,” Yoongi cuts him off. “It’s not.”

“I shouldn’t have told him I was interested in choking.”

“He tried to strangle you, not choke you.” Yoongi eyes the darkening finger marks over Taehyung’s throat, down his trachea, and the faint scratch of nails. He has to look away. “And in any case, this isn’t on you. He didn’t ask for your consent, didn’t ask for jack-shit. And you weren’t stupid. People have one-night stands all the time, you’re not automatically at fault for doing something risky.”

Taehyung nods, a bit dazed still. He drinks more of his tea in silence and then mutters, “I didn’t go there thinking he’d try to do anything so dangerous. He seemed nice. I just thought we would have had sex or something. Instead he just—it was so out of nowhere I didn’t know how to react at first.” He looks down at his hand. “This is bruising too.”

“What?” Yoongi leans forward. “Shit, what the—”

“I punched him.” Taehyung spreads out his fingers, knuckles a deep red but no scrapes. “I should have hit harder.” He stands up suddenly and says, “I’m gonna go shower. And—Yoongi-ssi, if you change your mind and you’d rather go home then please do. Really.”

He doesn’t stay to hear Yoongi’s answer, and walks into one of the rooms, closing the door behind him.

After that, it’s not exactly awkward, but the air is definitely quite tense. Taehyung gives him a change of clothes for the night and shows him the bathroom, telling him he can use any product he sees, to act as if he was in his own place. 

By the time Yoongi’s done washing up and drying his hair, he dresses in Taehyung’s clothes. The sweatpants are definitely too long for him, and he has a feeling that the hoodie Taehyung lent him would be huge even on Taehyung. As it is, Yoongi just swims in it.

He walks back into Taehyung’s bedroom, a small and cozy room with so much artwork plastered to the walls that there’s almost no space left. 

“Ah, you—do you have a side preference?” Taehyung asks him as he drops extra pillows on the bed.

“Where do you usually sleep?”

“I kind of sleep in the middle. But—maybe right?”

“I’ll sleep on the left, then.”

Taehyung nods, rubbing at the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I feel like I’m taking advantage of your time.”

“I offered, didn’t I?” Yoongi climbs on the bed, moving the blue comforter to the side. “Do you have anywhere to be tomorrow morning?”

“No, I’m free.”

“Mmh, me too.” Yoongi starts laying down, then glances at Taehyung, who’s still standing by the side. “Are you not going to—”

“I’m so embarrassed right now I could die.”

“There’s really no reason to be. And you look exhausted, you need to rest.”

Finally, Taehyung gets in bed as well and he’s quick to drag the heavy comforter all the way up to his chin. He mumbles something about the lights before reaching over to his bedside table. With a click, the room plunges into darkness.

Yoongi takes a deep breath and curves an arm over his head. He’s probably not going to get any sleep tonight. He always found it difficult to fall asleep in an unfamiliar environment, and—well, it’s been a while since he slept with someone else; as in, sleep and do nothing else.

Still, he closes his eyes and tries relaxing. A car drives by down the street at one point, and after a while, he can hear the noise of a cleaning truck in the distance. On the other side of the bed, Taehyung is still and silent, his breathing regular and steady. Maybe he fell asleep.

An hour or so must pass, and Yoongi has been dozing off for a few minutes, not really asleep when Taehyung rolls around. He’s closer now, Yoongi can feel the heat of his body.

“Are you asleep?”

“No,” Yoongi whispers in response. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah. Just—” A handful of seconds go by. “Nothing.”

“No, tell me. What do you need?”

“Can I—not hug you or anything, but just hold your hand?”

Yoongi blinks, turning his head to the side. He can’t quite see Taehyung’s face in the dark, but he can tell he’s quite close. “Yeah, of course.”

Taehyung’s hand finds his under the comforter and he squeezes it tight. He lets out a tense, forced chuckle. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m acting this way.”

“No, it’s alright.” Yoongi then sighs and rolls on his side, squeezing Taehyung’s hand as well. “Taehyung-ah, it’s okay. You’re safe now. And you were brave tonight. I don’t know if I would have been able to defend myself the way you did had I been in your place.”

In the quiet, the sound of Taehyung’s breath hitching is too loud. Yoongi doesn’t comment on it. After a while, Taehyung says, “Thank you. For everything, I mean, not just coming to pick me up. Thank you for staying.”

“Mh, of course.” Yoongi gives Taehyung’s hand another squeeze. “Try and get some sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up. Promise.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak again. Yoongi listens to his breathing as it becomes longer and deeper, slower. 

When he’s positive that Taehyung is asleep, Yoongi lets out a long exhale and closes his eyes.

Taehyung wakes up all at once.

He sits up on the bed like he’s been electrocuted and stares at the comforter all bundled up on his lap for a while. There’s at least one full minute of blissed blankness in his head as he rubs at his eyes and stretches, warm and lazy with sleep. 

It all comes back to him, though, like a shock of clarity, and it hurts somewhere low in his chest. For a moment, he reaches to his neck as if to touch it but then stops. He’ll have to tell Jimin about this, probably. The thought makes him grimace and sends a nasty, acid aftertaste on his tongue. 

He glances at the empty side of the bed. Yoongi must have left already, maybe early in the morning. Good, Taehyung isn’t sure he would have been able to face Yoongi without feeling completely mortified.

Eventually, he gets out of bed and makes his way out to the living room, dragging his feet and rubbing at his face.

“Hi.”

Taehyung flinches, a hand flying to his chest as his heart jumps in fright. “Oh, fuck, holy—”

“Sorry.” Yoongi is standing in the living room by the table holding two steaming mugs in his hands. He looks at Taehyung with wide-eyed surprise and then carefully sets the mugs down. “I made breakfast. I mean—maybe I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s fine,” Taehyung hurries to say. “I wasn’t expecting you to be here, that's all.”

Yoongi hums and looks away, staring at the table he set. Quietly, he asks, “Are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung lies. Almost in a daze, he ends up sitting at the table. He’s not sure how Yoongi managed to find the time to make rice, boiled eggs, coffee, and tea. And he toasted bread. And pulled out of Taehyung’s fridge some banchan his mom had sent him a few days ago.

“This might have been overkill, Yoongi-ssi,” Taehyung says.

“Yeah, I’m realizing that now. I just didn’t know what you eat for breakfast, so I—” he gestures at the table as he sits in front of Taehyung. “I just made everything.”

Taehyung manages a smile and nods. For a while they eat in silence; Taehyung picks at the food for a bit, and then hunger decides to come all at once. Soon enough, he’s going through almost everything Yoongi set at the table. 

“I’ll just ask it to rip the bandaid off, but are you okay?” Yoongi asks him in the end.

Taehyung shrugs, swallowing a mouthful of rice. “I’m not sure how I feel. I’m not— hurt. Or sad. I think I’m just pissed off right now.”

“Huh.”

“I’ll be fine. I know I will.”

“Yeah. Of course.”

“About last night—”

“Don’t thank me again, I might gag.” Yoongi drinks his coffee. Only now does Taehyung notice that he barely touched any food and that all the plates have been subtly moved towards him. “If you’re feeling better that’s all that matters. Though I think it would help you if you talked about this with someone. A friend.” Yoongi scratches his cheek. “Listen, Taehyung, if you want to take a break from our sessions, or stop them altogether, then—”

“No.”

“It really wouldn’t be a problem. I’d understand.”

“No,” Taehyung repeats, a bit more forcefully this time. Oddly, though, he feels calm when he looks up at Yoongi. “Our sessions together have nothing to do with what happened and they’re not something I want to give up on. Yoongi-ssi, you’ve been nothing but respectful and careful with me, and I know I told you before but I really am grateful that you took your time with me, and eased me into things—that you—” Taehyung clears his voice. “That you’re training me. And I want to keep going.”

Yoongi doesn’t speak for a few moments and Taehyung finds himself growing tense.

Screw getting past his infatuation with Yoongi, screw Heejoon, and that website. It was a stupid idea to begin with, and what happened isn’t his fault—he knows that—and so he refuses to let it dictate what he’s going to do next with his life.

He’s going to get a hold of himself and his feelings. He’ll keep up with the sessions without letting his emotions get in the way. He can do that much.

“Alright,” Yoongi says eventually. “But we’re going to work on the next play together. We’ll sit down and plan it together, that would put me at ease and I feel like it might also help you be more comfortable. Is that okay?”

Taehyung nods, breathing in a sigh of relief.

He likes that it’s usually Yoongi who takes the lead and plans their plays, and finds that leaving that extra bit of control to him makes for more excitement. But maybe, this once, being more involved could be beneficial. 

“I’m glad you agree.” Yoongi rubs at his nose, eyes flicking from his cup of coffee to Taehyung. “I would also be a lot more comfortable if we waited until your bruises fade before our next scene together.”

Taehyung hums and clears his throat, ignoring the urge to touch his neck. With a forced chuckle, he asks “Are they that bad?”

Yoongi’s focused, intense gaze softens at this. “No. I just want to make sure we don’t make them worse. So let’s wait until they’re gone and it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Right.” Taehyung rolls his shoulders. “That’s fine. Thank you, Yoongi-ssi.”

“Y’know, I’ve been thinking—” Fixing his postures, Yoongi tilts his head in a quick motion, then straightens up, and looks at the mug again. “Just—you don’t need to be so formal around me.”

“Huh?”

“We’ve known each other for a while now. And-and I feel like—I wouldn’t be offended if you dropped the honorifics. I mean that.”

Taehyung’s heart does something that both hurts and sends a wave of warmth across his chest. “Then what should I call you?”

“My-my name? I guess.” Yoongi then snorts and shakes his head. “I just don’t feel that comfortable with you being so formal anymore and—”

“Then Yoongi-hyung?”

On top of the table, Yoongi’s fingers twitch. Taehyung notices and then stares at the faint, pink flush on Yoongi’s cheeks, the red on the tip of his ears; it’s stupid to hope, it is, and this means nothing, but—

“Yeah,” Yoongi replies quietly and with a smile. “Yeah, that works.”

It means nothing but Taehyung still clings to it like it’s a new lifeline.

He smiles and this time it comes easily. “Then, Yoongi-hyung, you too should call me by my name.”

Yoongi hums, nodding slowly. “I will. Then I’ll text you soon so we can arrange a day to meet and plan the scene together, does that sound good?”

“Yes.” Taehyung swallows. “About the scene, though—there’s something I’d like to—no, that I want to do.” He looks at Yoongi and hopes that his resolution can be heard in his voice. “And I need you to trust me with this.”

Later, after Yoongi has left and has reassured him that he will reach out to Taehyung as soon as possible, he stands in the living room by himself.

The house is quiet now. He’s already cleaned the table and dishes, remade the bed, and got dressed.

There’s no sign of Yoongi’s presence left and Taehyung sighs. 

He can’t stall anymore: he needs to call Jimin.

“First thing fucking first, we’re going to report the account. Actually, I’ll contact the admins directly.” Jimin says as he paces in front of the couch, hands on his hips and eyes blazing. “Then you’re going to give me his address and I’ll personally go there to fucking kill him.”

“Hyung,” Jungkook groans from the couch, sitting next to Taehyung. “You need to calm down.”

“No, I need to commit a crime.” Suddenly, he stops walking. “It’s my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” Taehyung says immediately.

“I should have noticed something, I’m the one who wouldn’t shut the fuck up about being good at recognizing creeps and I still basically pushed you in that fucker’s arms.”

“He genuinely seemed nice, Jimin.” Taehyung leans back, sinking into the soft cushions of the couch. By his side, Jungkook squeezes his knee. “I texted him for days and he was always sweet. And even while we were having dinner he was polite and nice. No one could have known.”

That seems to calm Jimin down, at least faintly so. He takes a deep breath and then drops onto the empty space by Taehyung’s side, leaning his head over his shoulder. “I’m so sorry that something like this happened, Tae.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “Me too. But I’m fine. Promise. I’ll be fine.” 

“We could still murder him.”

“I’m not completely against that idea,” Jungkook mutters. “But first, let’s contact the website’s admins and make sure they ban his account.”

“Yeah, he could try doing the same to someone else,” Taehyung agrees immediately. “And they might not be as lucky as me.”

“Oh, right, ‘cause you got really fucking lucky.” Jimin wraps an arm around Taehyung’s waist. “Fuck, Tae, that must have been terrifying.”

“Yeah, it was.” Taehyung closes his eyes. He still feels exhausted, and while he might not be as shaken as last night he’s still tense and undeniably fucking furious. 

After a while, Jungkook says, “But I’m glad you weren’t alone. That Yoongi helped you.”

“Do you want us to stay tonight?” Jimin asks.

“Actually, yeah,” Taehyung admits. “If it’s not a problem.”

“Of course not,” Jungkook replies. “I’ll text Joon-hyung and tell him to buy us takeout.”

“Pay for your own damn food,” Jimin grumbles, but Jungkook has already pulled out his phone.

“Nah, he likes spending money on me. I feel like in another life he would have been my sugar daddy.”

“Isn’t he already?”

“No, he’s my boyfriend.” Jungkook squints his eyes at the screen. “And my future husband.”

“Gross.”

Taehyung closes his eyes, feeling a smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He’s glad he got over his doubts and called Jimin and Jungkook: having them here is reassuring, and makes him feel as if everything is as it always has been, like nothing happened at all.

When Jungkook throws himself into a passionate explanation of how, exactly, he will convince Namjoon to marry him in exactly five years, Taehyung feels Jimin’s hand squeeze his.

He knows, then, that he really will be fine.

Min Yoongi

Good evening, I’m just

texting you to confirm tomorrow’s appointment

And to make sure that you’re still

alright with the scene we have planned

Good evening, Yoongi-hyung!

Yes, Ill see you tomorrow

and yes, Im still alright with our scene

Min Yoongi

And does your request still stand?

Yes.

Min Yoongi

Good.

I’ll see you tomorrow, Taehyung.

╭─────╮

Yoongi’s sitting at the end of the bed, listening to the water running in the shower.

Today’s talk before the scene had been brief and direct; Taehyung reassured him that he was fine and that he was ready for today, and together they went through today’s scene one more time. 

He didn't look nervous. If anything, Taehyung looked resolved and confident. But then Yoongi remembers that Taehyung is an actor and he wonders how much of that air of bravado was real.

Nevertheless, he has to trust Taehyung to know his limits the same way Taehyung trusts Yoongi with the scene. Still, he’s going to pay extra attention to Taehyung’s reactions today.

Taehyung comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later, clad in the dark silken robe; without hesitation, he starts kneeling.

“Not there,” Yoongi tells him and points behind him. “On the bed, lay on your back.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen a fraction, but he quickly does as he’s told. He climbs onto the bed, visibly swallowing when he sees the spreader bar already linked to the headboard, then lies against the pillows. 

Yoongi steps around the bed and stands by the side. “Color?”

“Green.”

“With this, you won’t be able to move your arms,” Yoongi says, nodding at the cuffs attached to the edges of the spreader bar. “Are you still comfortable with that?”

Taehyung nods immediately. 

Alright then. Kneeling on the mattress, Yoongi helps Taehyung to slide his hand inside the padded cuff, then he secures the strap closed before doing the same with the other one. Finally, he grabs onto the spreader bar and pulls its sides until it forces Taehyung’s arms further apart.

Taehyung lets out a quiet gasp, eyes wide and dark. 

“There we go.” Yoongi sits back and looks at him. “Too tight?”

“No.” Taehyung then bites his bottom lip. “But hyung, you said that today—my legs—”

“Oh?” Yoongi grins, looking down to where Taehyung’s thighs are rubbing together subtly under the silk. “Be patient. I’ll take care of them later.”

Then, before he can fully enjoy the expression on Taehyung’s face, Yoongi gets off the bed and goes to grab what he needs. He and Taehyung took some time to choose today’s tools, and in the end, they came out of their planning with some new toys that Yoongi still hasn’t used on him.

So Yoongi opens the drawer and grabs the newly brought anal beads before collecting the rest of what he’ll need. He drops them all on the bed by Taehyung’s legs and, finally, goes to take the leg restraints.

He bought these around three weeks specifically for Taehyung. Yoongi has several cuffs and straps to tie ankles and legs together, but the thigh sling is a new addition. The leather has been oiled a few days ago after he and Taehyung planned this scene, and it feels smooth and giving under his hands. Maybe Yoongi has been developing a thing for Taehyung’s thighs, and the idea of having them wrapped in dark leather has been occupying his mind for a while now.

He puts that on the bed too, for later use, but doesn’t miss the way Taehyung hungrily stares at it before moving his attention to Yoongi as he sits by Taehyung’s feet.

“I feel like being lenient today,” Yoongi says as he rolls up his sleeves. “But you’re going to be good for me, aren’t you? You’ll be patient?”

“Yes,” Taehyung replies quietly.

“Let’s say—” Yoongi looks up at the clock. “Thirty minutes. You won’t come for thirty minutes. Can you do that for me?” He waits for Taehyung to nod. “And you’ll be good, yes? You’ll tell me if you're close?” Again, Taehyung nods, this time eagerly. “And if I don’t stop touching you, you’ll hold back, won’t you?”

“Yes, hyung.” Taehyung breathes in. Under his pretty robe, his cock is starting to fatten up, twitching faintly. “Promise.”

Yoongi hums then says, “Spread your legs.” 

Taehyung does, slowly—almost teasingly so. Yoongi settles between them, a hand resting over Taehyung’s knee while he reaches for the lube. “I mean, you say that you promise but it’s not like you’ll have a choice once I tie these too.” He squeezes Taehyung’s knee and then glances at him. “Oh? You like that?”

Taehyung’s flush is faint, but it’s spreading down his neck. He hums, wetting his lips, eyes dark. “Yeah.”

Yoongi pours lube between his fingers and rubs them together. “Maybe I should stop being so careful with you, then, and should just tie you up so tight you can barely move a muscle.”

Taehyung’s breath hitches. “I—not just the ropes. I don’t just like being tied up. When you speak to me like that, I like it.”

“Speak to you like what?” Yoongi scoots closer and leans back.

“Like—” Taehyung pauses, brows furrowing together. “Like you’re talking down on me.”

Yoongi lets out a quiet laugh; a sharp wave of arousal hits him, stealing the breath out of him. “Now, Taehyung-ah, I just said I was gonna be nice today.” He reaches between Taehyung’s legs and circles slick fingers around his rim. “If you say things like that it makes me want to be mean again.”

A finger starts pushing in, slowly. Taehyung’s eyes close, his lips parting soundlessly. Then, he whispers, “That’s fine.”

“What is?”

“If you’re mean. It’s—hnn—fine.”

Yoongi hums, finger pushing deeper. “Are you sure? Look at me, are you sure?”

“It’s not scary with you,” Taehyung answers, looking Yoongi in the eyes. “I like it with hyung.”

Not for the first time in these last few days, Yoongi is hit with a sudden burst of something he can’t quite name. All Yoongi knows is that whenever his thoughts drift off to Taehyung, there’s that nasty, burning tugging feeling at his chest and each time it leaves him half breathless, half enticed.

“I guess we’ll just have to see how you behave then,” Yoongi murmurs, and crooks his finger, prodding at Taehyung’s walls. He watches him as he groans, going tight around him. “Relax for me, I’m adding another one. Yeah, like that, good boy.”

Taehyung’s hole flutters around his fingers as Yoongi thrusts them in and out at a slow pace. Soon enough, he can add a third one and Taehyung’s hips roll down to fuck into his hand, quiet moans now filling the quiet of the room. 

When Taehyung’s cock starts twitching at each thrust, Yoongi pulls out his fingers and reaches for the silicone plug. This one is hefty, thicker than the others he’s used on Taehyung before, but really all he needs for now is to have him loose enough for what he has in mind for later.

“Legs up,” Yoongi tells him and Taehyung lifts his legs up to his chest. “Cross your ankles for me.” Once Taehyung does, Yoongi wraps a hand around them to keep his legs raised up as he rolls the plug against Taehyung’s slick hole, coating it in lube. Then, he begins pushing it in.

“Ah, fuck,” Taehyung hisses. “Big.”

“I know, but you can take it. See, look at that.” Yoongi licks his lips, watching the way Taehyung’s hole stretches obscenely around the plug, shiny with lube. “Almost all in, relax. Breathe in—”

“Haah, hyung,” Taehyung moans, toes curling as the plug fully slides inside. “O-oh, fuck.”

“Good boy. Try and keep your legs up for me.” He lets go of Taehyung’s ankles and, without a certain excitement, he reaches for the sling. “You know how this works, don’t you?” Taehyung, legs raised up and trembling, gives him a slow nod. “Give me your color before I move on.”

“Green.”

So Yoongi moves over the bed to fit the padded leather strap behind the base of Taehyung’s neck. Taking Taehyung’s left ankle in his hand, he rests it over his shoulder as he wraps the leather cuff around Taehyung’s thigh. He pulls at it until it tightens, pushing just slightly into the supple skin, and secures it shut. As he does the same for the left leg, beneath him Taehyung is breathing hard. He ties the second cuff too before leaning back and, for a moment, he admires the sight.

Taehyung’s legs are forced to stay raised and useless thanks to the sling, and his arms are spread to the side, cuffed to the spreader bar. Like this, he is completely exposed, and vulnerable.

“Look at you,” Yoongi whispers. His cock is hardening in his trousers but he pays it no mind for now. “So pretty, Taehyung.”

Taehyung looks at him with lidded eyes, his mouth parted around quick, shallow breaths. There’s a deep flush crawling down to his chest and high on his cheeks, and he keeps blinking his eyes like he’s struggling to keep them open.

“Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs and squirms. “Can’t—can’t move.”

“Mh, just the way you like it.” Yoongi smiles at him as he draws a hand over the back of Taehyung’s thigh. “What do we say?”

Almost in a murmur, Taehyung says, “Thank you, hyung.”

Yoongi looks down. He presses down on the plug, pushing it deeper, and Taehyung tries to squirm. With the way he’s restrained, though, he can only lift his hips in clumsy, weak jerks.

And with the sling in place, pushing Taehyung’s legs further apart is so easy Yoongi has to bite down a curse. He’s so pliant like this, easy to move around as Yoongi pleases. The silken robe has lifted up and now falls in a heap over Taehyung’s cock, hard and twitching under it.

“Let’s start, mh?” Yoongi draws the outline of Taehyung’s cock over the fabric with one finger, feeling it jump under his touch. “Thirty minutes.”

For a minute or two, all Yoongi does is tease the head of Taehyung’s cock over the silk. He rubs his fingers over the frenulum, listening to Taehyung’s breathy moans, watching as his ass goes tight around the plug as the stimulation doesn’t stop nor changes. Then, Yoongi grabs the cockhead from above the silk, rubbing it. Taehyung jerks with a gasp, his cock jerks.

“Making a mess of your pretty robe,” Yoongi muses as he eyes the darkening stain over the silk. “So wet already, always sensitive here.”

“Feels—good,” Taehyung moans, wrists twisting in his cuffs. “Mmh, hyung, don’t-don’t stop.”

“Are you close? You’re twitching like crazy.”

“No, it just feels so—ah, fuck.”

Is it the fabric that is making him so sensitive today? 

If that’s the case, then Yoongi can play like this for a little longer. Maybe he’s cheating a little, but if he brings Taehyung close to an orgasm while still using the robe, then once he gets his hand on him—the feeling might be different enough to border on too much.

So Yoongi uses the folded fabric to wrap his hand around Taehyung’s cock and starts stroking him slowly, lightly, and Taehyung goes pliant against the pillows, his head rolling to the side as he moans, eyes closed, his expression lax and easy.

Yoongi hums, he too falling into the rhythm as he turns his head to press his mouth to Taehyung’s inner thigh. He hears Taehyung let out a soft, pleased sound at this and only now does Yoongi realize that Taehyung truly enjoys being kissed. His neck, his wrists, his chest, his thighs—whenever Yoongi gets his mouth on him Taehyung’s body always melts, thrumming under the attention and feeling. 

So Yoongi keeps his mouth on the soft, smooth skin of his thigh as he strokes Taehyung’s cock with silk, the fabric damp where his cockhead keeps leaking. He sucks wetly at the giving skin, teeth biting gently and tongue soothing the light sting when Taehyung gasps and his cock jerks up in Yoongi’s loose fist.

“I think—” Taehyung groans, thigh trembling under Yoongi’s tongue. “Close, hyung.”

Yoongi pulls his hand away and glances at the clock. Six minutes have gone by. “Good boy.” 

Taehyung sighs, eyes still closed, his curls falling over his forehead. Yoongi trails his hand over Taehyung’s calf and curves it under his thigh before he begins sucking faint marks again, leaning down to focus on the area closest to his hip. Taehyung shivers, his skin rising in goosebumps as Yoongi sucks and bites, tongue pressing flat to the heated flesh. 

“I could do this for hours,” Yoongi admits after a few moments. “Your legs are so beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung murmurs, already so soft and dazed after having been barely touched. “I feel—so light.”

“Already?” Yoongi pulls away from Taehyung’s thigh, straightening up. “Do you want to go under?”

“I don’t know,” Taehyung says, and still he doesn’t open his eyes. “But I feel good. Wanna-wanna be touched more.”

Yoongi grins to himself as he carefully undoes the belt of Taehyung’s robe. He pushes the sides away, revealing Taehyung’s body and his cock, curved over his belly, hard and wet at the tip.

Subtly, Yoongi scoots closer to press his knee near the base of the plug and reaches for the lube, coating his palm and fingers with it. While Taehyung is still blissfully pliant and dazed, Yoongi circles his fingers around the base of Taehyung’s dick before stroking up, closing his fist around the head.

Taehyung arches, the movement limited by his restraints, and moans in earnest before he starts trembling.

“Oh no,” Taehyung whimpers. “So good, what—”

“Sensitive,” Yoongi murmurs, keeping his pace still slow but the ring of his fingers tight as he strokes down the length. “It’s so early, Taehyung, and you’re already like this.”

Taehyung whines, his abdomen clenching. Yoongi keeps an eye on him, looking for any indication that Taehyung might be about to come but is too lost in the feeling to warn him. His cock is hot between Yoongi’s fingers, slick with lube and precum, and the more time passes the harder it gets. Yoongi presses his knee forward, pushing the plug deeper and Taehyung gasps, knees uselessly trying to pull together.

“Hyung, hyung hyung—”

Yoongi pulls his hand away and hums at the strangled noise Taehyung makes when another orgasm slips away. “Good boy.”

Fourteen minutes.

Taehyung’s stamina has improved since their first sessions, and Yoongi can’t help but feel slightly proud.

He takes Taehyung’s cock between his fingers again, this time focusing only on the length. Still, Taehyung shudders and moans loud and long, the sound deep from his chest. Two lost orgasms have made him so sensitive that even the lightest touch must be overwhelming, Yoongi reasons. So he keeps his fist not too tight, his strokes slightly faster, knee nudging at the base of the plug every few moments. 

Taehyung’s moans shift to choked whimpers, nonsensical strings of Please, so good, no, no no, ‘s too—hyung, please please please only fueling Yoongi’s desire to see him ruined, completely abandoned to pleasure.

Suddenly, Taehyung gasps and arches. “Coming, gonna—”

Yoongi licks his lips. “Five.”

“No!” Taehyung sobs, his cock jerking. 

“Four. Three. Two. One.”

Yoongi lets go and Taehyung groans before slumping back into the pillows. His hips are twitching, the muscles of his thighs trembling, straining.

“Good boy,” Yoongi croons, circling a finger around Taehyung’s rim. “Doing so well for me.”

“Wanna come,” Taehyung whines, blinking his eyes open. “Please?”

“We’re not done yet.” Yoongi tugs at the plug. “Don’t you want your new toy?”

At this, Taehyung’s breath catches and his eyes go wide. “Y-yes.”

Yoongi hums, slowly pulling the plug out but stopping midway. “Ask me for it.”

Taehyung whines, “Hyung.”

“Ask.”

“C-can I have my new—” Taehyung’s eyes flutter as the plug is pulled, stretching his hole. “Can I have my new toy? Please?”

Yoongi pulls out the plug and Taehyung gasps, his hole now empty and clenching around nothing.

Yoongi drops the plug and reaches for the anal beads this time. With his slick hand, he starts coating each large, slick black bead. It’s becoming increasingly obvious Taehyung likes bigger toys, so Yoongi specifically got thick beads, big enough they’ll stretch his hole beautifully— big enough Taehyung will feel each one of them.

“Might need—yeah, more.” Yoongi takes more lube and goes back to slicking the beads. “You’re gonna be leaking by the time we’re done.” He glances at Taehyung. “Like a slut.”

Taehyung’s cock, so hard and swollen it barely has any give, twitches, precum beading at the tip.

“Ready?” He asks and Taehyung nods eagerly, sinking into the pillows. The first bead is the smallest one, only slightly smaller than the plug. It goes in easily and Taehyung lets out a rich moan as it disappears inside, and only the thin string that links the beads together shows.

“God, this is—” Yoongi swallows as he starts pushing the second bead in. “Fuck, Taehyung, the way you’re taking them.”

Taehyung whines, toes curling. When the second one also slides in, he jerks up, gasping and shaking.

“Oh, fuck—” he hisses. “Hyung, hyung—”

“Ssh, you’re doing so well.” Yoongi curves a hand over Taehyung’s hip, pressing circles with his thumb. “Two more.”

The third one stretches Taehyung’s puffy, reddened hole wide. Lube squelches out when it slides in and Taehyung’s legs start shaking, his cock now leaking a thin string of precum over his belly.

He loves this, doesn’t he?

“Pretty boy,” Yoongi says, smiling at the garbled moan Taehyung makes when the last bead starts pushing in. “Sucking them in.”

“G-gonna come!”

“No, you’re not.” 

“Hyung, I c-can’t, I’m gonna—haaah, fuck!”

The last bead slides inside, Taehyung’s hole closing around it. His cock jerks and he clenches his abdomen, eyes shut closed as he holds his breath and tries not to come. A few moments go by before Taehyung relaxes, whining and squirming.

“Good fucking boy.” Yoongi climbs between Taehyung’s legs, hovering above him, holding himself up with one hand by Taehyung’s neck. His free one trails over Taehyung’s chest, slick with sweat, and down to his stomach. “Made for this, aren’t you?”

Taehyung moans, his hips writhing. “So f-full. Ah, d-don’t push—”

Yoongi makes a questioning noise as he applies pressure to Taehyung’s belly with his palm. “Oh? Can you feel them?”

Taehyung sobs but the sound quickly morphs into another moan. He’s trying to roll his hips but he can barely move with how he’s restrained. He blinks, tears caught in his lashes, and looks at Yoongi with a heavy, dazed gaze. “Hyung.”

“Mmh?”

“Hyung, so good.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi smiles at him. “That’s right, just feel good.” 

Taehyung nods, sluggish and slow. Whenever Yoongi presses down his belly, close to the base of his cock, Taehyung’s eyes roll back, and his voice breaks. Ten more minutes.

Yoongi reaches for Taehyung’s cock and starts stroking him, fist tight.

Taehyung makes a choked noise, throwing his head back. 

“Fuck, you’re so hard,” Yoongi laughs, breathless and so turned on he almost wants to start rubbing himself against Taehyung’s ass. 

“Close,” Taehyung hisses.

“Five. Four.”

Taehyung whimpers, “Can’t, hyung—

“Yes, you can. Two. One.” Yoongi pulls his hand away and watches, entranced, at the shudder that wrecks through Taehyung’s body. 

“Can’t a-anymore,” Taehyung sobs, pulling at the cuffs around his wrists. “W-wanna come.”

Yoongi glances at the clock. He’s really almost there and he refuses to put Taehyung through a punishment today. 

Besides, they still—have one thing to do.

Yoongi breathes in and leans back to grab Taehyung’s waist before raising him and scooting closer. He guides Taehyung down again, the small of his back now resting over Yoongi’s lap, his legs spread apart. 

Leaning down, Yoongi carefully curves his hand over Taehyung’s throat, just under his jaw and—

Taehyung’s eyes open. “Yellow.”

Yoongi freezes, his fingers barely touching the skin of Taehyung’s neck. He lets a moment go by, then says, “Breathe.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung gasps, blinking quickly. “I-I’m sorry, I’m fine, you can—”

“No. Breathe.” He doesn’t move his hand away but looks Taehyung in the eyes. “You’re alright, you did nothing wrong. But I need you to breathe.”

The first inhale is jagged and rough. Taehyung exhales shakily and breathes in again. Slowly, he finds a steady rhythm and the panic in his eyes fades and gets replaced by obvious disappointment. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize. I’m glad you used your colors right.” Yoongi brings a hand to Taehyung’s hip, stroking over the curve of his waist. “I know that this is what you asked me to do, but if you changed your mind there’s nothing wrong with that. We don’t have to do this.”

“No, I want to. I do. It’s just—” Taehyung swallows and Yoongi feels the bob of his throat under his palm. “My eyes were-were closed, so I couldn’t see you and suddenly feeling your hand just—just scared me for a moment.”

Yoongi nods. “I shouldn’t have done it when you weren’t looking. I’m sorry, it was my mistake.”

“It’s okay,” Taehyung murmurs, nodding. “‘s okay. I really—I don’t want him to ruin this for me. I want you to-to do it. If hyung does it then I want to.”

“Alright.” Yoongi looks down at his hand, then at Taehyung. “It won’t hurt. I swear it. And you’ll be able to breathe through it, it will just be less air. But you will breathe. I won’t hold for longer than a few seconds. I won’t press down your throat. It—” It won’t be like it was with him. “You’re safe. You’re safe, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung’s eyes redden and turn misty. Then, he nods and says, “I’m green. I promise.”

Yoongi takes a long breath.

This—this matters. This is an amount of trust that no one ever gave him and he refuses to make Taehyung regret this. 

“Look at me,” he says as he applies faint pressure on the areas under Taehyung’s jaw, at the sides of his neck. “Look at me.”

Taehyung holds Yoongi’s gaze, his lips parting as the pressure increases. He gasps, the air thinner, but still there. Slowly, Yoongi loosens his fingers. “Green?”

Taehyung blinks. “Again.”

“Color first.”

“Green, I’m green, again.” He tries arching over the pillows. “Hyung, again—haah.” 

This time, when Yoongi presses his fingers in, the same careful pressure as before, Taehyung’s eyes darken, his body going pliant under him. 

Good. 

Yoongi reaches between Taehyung’s legs, takes his cock and starts stroking as he keeps his hand around Taehyung’s neck. 

Taehyung’s eyes roll back, ass clenching, and a garbled moan slips out. Yoongi loosens his hand again, shivering at Taehyung’s groan. 

“Good boy,” he hisses, slicked fist stroking Taehyung fast, hard. “You did so well, come for hyung.”

Taehyung moans, breath hitching when Yoongi’s fingers press down again, and he’s stunning like this, perfect, loud, and exposed.

“Fucking gorgeous.” Yoongi flicks his wrist at the upstroke, letting Taehyung breathe in fully for a few moments before applying pressure again. Then, an image flickers in his mind. “I bet you’d look stunning in a collar.”

Taehyung’s arms strain, his legs pull at the restraints and then he comes with Yoongi’s hand still around his neck, spilling over his belly, his chest, shuddering and moaning loud and high, his entire body drawn taut and thrumming.

“There you go, like that.” Yoongi loosens his hand again while keeping the same pressure around Taehyung’s cock, letting him ride this out as he comes, until he starts whining and crying out, cock softening. Yoongi lets him go and breathes out, leaning back. “Good. You were perfect.”

Taehyung doesn’t answer. He’s panting, slumped on the pillows, his head lolling to the side. 

Yoongi looks down, where the string of the anal beads peaks out from inside Taehyung’s ass. He strokes his thumb around the rim and watches it flutter. 

“On me.”

Yoongi frowns and looks up. Taehyung is staring at him, eyes barely opened and he looks wrecked, fucked out—perfectly blissed.

“Oh, look at you.” Yoongi grins. “Someone’s gone, huh?”

“Hyung—” Taehyung whines, weakly pulling at the cuffs. “Hyung’s hard.”

Ah, so that’s what that’s about.

“Yeah, you made me hard.” Yoongi keeps stroking around his rim, thumb pushing in carefully. Taehyung shivers. “What should I do, mh?”

“On me,” Taehyung repeats, his words slurred and quiet. “Hyung, come on me.”

“Alright. Let’s make a deal.” Yoongi starts undoing the buttons of his slack trousers. “Hyung will come all over your belly if you let me pull these out of you.”

“‘mkay, anything, just—” Taehyung licks his lips, bitten red. “Just want hyung to come.”

“What a good boy.” Yoongi sits back on his heels and takes his cock in his slicked hand. The first stroke feels so good he closes his eyes, only to force them open again to take in the sight in front of him. “God, Tae, you’re so—fucking erotic like this.”

Taehyung’s mouth curls in a dazed, pleased smile. He spreads his legs apart, almost putting on a show, his belly slick and shiny with cum. 

Still touching himself, Yoongi reaches for the string and starts pulling. Immediately, Taehyung throws his head back, and his voice cracks, hips writhing. “Hnn, hurts, it hurts, t-thank you.”

“Fucking masochist,” Yoongi hisses, his fist faster around himself. He’s not going to last, not when Taehyung is shaking like that, his hole stretching wide as the first bead slides out. 

Taehyung cries out hoarsely as his hole closes again, the second bead now being tugged out. “F-feel weird—”

His cock, soft and spent, twitches weakly.

God, he’s insatiable. Made for pleasure, made for Yoongi to play with.

With a moan, Yoongi strokes down his length, up, kneading at his cockhead. He pulls out the second bead and groans when Taehyung’s toes curl. 

“Almost there, Tae,” Yoongi hisses, close to orgasm himself, his cock twitching in his fist. The third bead starts stretching Taehyung’s rim.

“Gonna come,” Taehyung gasps, his voice wrecked. 

Yoongi lets out an overwhelmed laugh. “You’re not even hard, you’re gonna come? Huh? Good fucking boy, show hyung how you feel good.”

When the last bead slides out, Taehyung cries out loud and high, his spent cock barely twitching as it weakly dribbles come over his belly, but his muscles tense and he shakes with pleasure.

That’s what does it for Yoongi, who comes with a moan and spills over Taehyung’s dick and stomach, and it feels good— it’s just his hand but it feels so good to see his cum painting Taehyung’s flushed skin.

Yoongi takes a few moments to gather himself, fixing his trousers up again and controlling his breathing. Then, “Hyung’s gonna untie you, yeah?”

Taehyung just hums, fucked out and happy. 

Undoing cuffs is a lot easier and faster than ropes, so Yoongi takes care of them quickly. Once he’s done, he makes it to go to the bathroom to grab a towel, but Taehyung’s hand suddenly curves over Yoongi’s neck.

“Hey.” Yoongi looks at him. “You’re alright?”

Taehyung nods, still a bit gone. “Hyung.”

“Yeah?”

Almost stubbornly, Taehyung pushes him down, closer. His eyes drop to Yoongi’s mouth and, in a moment, he stops breathing. “Hyung.”

Yoongi’s chest goes tight. “What do you need?”

“Want to kiss hyung.” Taehyung sighs. “Can I?”

Yoongi doesn’t think. 

He doesn’t think about the fact that he doesn’t kiss his clients. That he doesn’t let them even ask for things like these. That the thought of fucking a client almost never crossed his mind, and that he most certainly never fantasizes about fucking them once they’re done with scenes and out of his apartment.

Yoongi just leans down and kisses Taehyung. 

His mouth is warm and slick. When Taehyung parts his lips, his tongue slides over Yoongi’s bottom lip and he tilts Taehyung’s head to the side to kiss him deeper. Taehyung hums, his hand stroking over Yoongi’s nape, mouth hot and wet, his lips soft and giving.

When Taehyung’s hand drops, Yoongi pulls back and stares at him.

“Thank you,” Taehyung murmurs, closing his eyes. “God, that was good.”

Taehyung is sleepy and lazy while Yoongi cleans him up and then helps him back to the couch in the living room, but this time he stays awake. He hums happily when Yoongi brings him a piece of chocolate to suck on and lets himself be wrapped in two soft blankets. 

By the time Yoongi changes into fresh clothes, the tea is also ready so he brings a cup over to Taehyung. “Still doing okay?”

Taehyung nods as he blows on the tea. “I feel great.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” Yoongi sits at his usual spot by the end of the couch and says, “You did very well.”

Taehyung smiles. “I think—I think you’ve helped me a lot these days, Yoongi-hyung. Not just that night, but after. It’s becoming easier not to think about what happened.” He shrugs. “It still happens, but it’s just easier. I guess—I don’t know if healing is the right word, but I’m always surrounded by people who care about me and are there to help me when I need it, so the process is easier than I thought it’d be.”

Yoongi looks at him, fingers flicking at the mug’s handle. “It doesn’t matter how much time it takes, but I’ll always be here to help you through this. What happened was scary, and it was unfair, and if at any time you feel like you need someone to talk with— I’m here. I mean it.”

Taehyung’s smile fades, replaced by an open, earnest expression. He doesn’t speak, but he nods and then drinks his tea in silence. 

Later, once he’s showered and has dropped the money on the table in the usual envelope, he starts putting on his coat.

“I can meet you in ten days? Same time?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out, standing in front of the door. Suddenly, he turns around to face Yoongi. “Did you mean that?”

Yoongi blinks. “What?”

“What you said during—that I’d look good in a collar.”

Ah.

Right, Yoongi did say that.

“You would,” he replies. 

Taehyung hums. He opens the door and, right before leaving, blurts out, “I think I want a collar then.”

The door slams closed and Yoongi is left alone in the apartment.

Right.

A collar.

Almost in a trance, Yoongi grabs his phone and quickly finds Namjoon’s contact. 

“Hyung, hi,” Namjoon answers after a few moments. “Everything okay?”

“You gave your boyfriend a collar, didn’t you?”

“Now, that’s a weird fucking question to ask out of the blue, but yes.”

Yoongi nods. “Where did you buy it?”

Chapter Text

All in all, Taehyung feels like he’s doing pretty great.

Rehearsals are going well, the show is coming together smoothly. Winter is starting to fade into something less harsh. All that anger he’d been dealing with after what went down with Heejoon is, finally, starting to let go of him. The last two scenes he had with Yoongi went great. He’s been eating more vegetables. And today he got to pet two cats on the way to rehearsals.

So, yeah. Everything is going great.

“Yeah, except for the part where you’re definitely in love with your dom for hire.”

“Please, Jungkook, yell it a bit louder in this very public space. We wanna make sure everyone hears you.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes and goes back to inhaling his japchae. Taehyung glares at him before glancing around; no one seems to be paying them any attention, too busy stuffing their mouths with food.

“It’s fine,” Taehyung mutters, slurping some noodles too. He gotta be quick or else Jungkook will eat the whole damn plate. “Unlike someone I know, I won’t fall for such an easy cliché. I’m a mature adult. I know how to bottle my feelings and pretend they don’t exist like any other man.”

Jungkook hums. “‘s that why you kissed him?”

“Fuck you, how dare you bring that up?” Taehyung hisses. “Look, I was out of it. It was a stupid mistake and it’s not gonna happen again.” 

“It definitely will.”

“Did you invite me out for lunch just to make fun of me?”

“Actually, no.” Jungkook swallows another mouthful of noodles and leans back in the plastic chair, knees bouncing up and down. “So. Namjoon-hyung is having a public scene at a club.”

Taehyung blinks. “Run that for me again?”

“It’s nothing crazy.” Jungkook shrugs. “He’s kind of well-known in the BDSM scene in Seoul, and he used to do public scenes for events in clubs a lot. He dialed it down after we started dating but sometimes he still does it, and I always go to watch.” He smirks. “I think it’s hot.”

“Obviously you do.”

“This time he’s doing a public shibari performance, and it’s in a really cool fetish club. Since I’ve been wanting you guys to meet for a while this could be fun. You’ve never been to a club like that, right? It would be a new experience.”

Taehyung hums, putting down his chopsticks. “I mean—wouldn’t it be kinda awkward though? Just you, me, and your boyfriend tying up a stranger?”

“I asked Jimin-hyung to come too but he and Hoseok are out of town that weekend.” Jungkook licks his lips. “You could ask your dom to come as well.”

“Oh, hell no.”

“Why not? It’s a cool place.” Jungkook looks around the restaurant and then leans in, elbows over the table. Grinning, he says, “There are private rooms with all kinds of toys. Bet you and Yoongi would get nasty in there.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue before flicking his finger against Jungkook’s forehead. “Wash your damn mouth, brat.”

“Look, it’s a genuinely high-end kinda place. I’ve been there lots of times, and it’s super clean and they’re really strict with security. It’s not dangerous or anything, and I’d like it if you and Namjoon-hyung met at last. So just think about it.”

Taehyung groans something nonsensical under his breath.

It’s not like the idea doesn’t sound interesting. He’s never been to an actual fetish club, and he’s been wanting to be more involved in the scene for a while now. Even if he didn’t go with Yoongi, Jungkook would be there anyway and it’s about time he meets Namjoon.

“I’ll ask Yoongi,” Taehyung says eventually. “But he’s probably gonna say no.”

“How do you know?”

“He’s gonna be busy. He always is. He works a lot.”

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Okay, but just ask him.”

“I just said I will.”

“Cool. And even if he says no, I’m assuming you’re gonna come anyway. I’ll send you the details later.” Jungkook then grins wide and happily. “It’s gonna be super fun.”

Taehyung hums, not entirely convinced.

Just because he’s had a good few days it doesn’t mean Taehyung isn’t aware of just how fucked his situation is.

He thinks about it that evening once he’s back home, sprawled on the couch with a glass of red wine in his hand and the TV buzzing in the background, the variety show being broadcasted boring enough that Taehyung can follow it without really paying it any attention.

So, he kissed Yoongi.

Sue him. He’s got some feelings going on, he was high off endorphins, half-deep in his subspace, and Yoongi was just—there. Pretty, caring, and still flushed pink with pleasure and arousal. Of course, he ended up wanting to kiss him. And Yoongi—he was just kind enough to let him do as he pleased, that’s all.

So, he’s got an excuse for the kiss. He’s gonna be a big boy about it and not make the same mistake again.

But what about the damn collar situation?

Just remembering how shamelessly he asked for one, outside the scene and all, has Taehyung squirming on the couch with a groan, face warming up. 

He might still be kind of a newbie in the scene but it’s not like he doesn’t know the importance that a collar carries. He’s not the only sub Yoongi works with, so with what—arrogance can Taehyung ask for something as important as that? Do Yoongi’s other subs have collars? Is Yoongi even comfortable with using them? And sure, sometimes subs just wear collars to show that they’re submissive, but still.

Besides… after the kissing and collar incident, Taehyung had two more scenes with Yoongi. Not only did they not kiss again, but Yoongi also hasn’t mentioned anything about collars. That should be enough of an answer.

“Stupid,” Taehyung mutters, bringing the glass to his mouth. “I’m fucking stupid.”

That’s it, though. 

From now on, things are changing. Just like he told Jungkook, he’s not a kid and he can be a damn professional about this and keep his infatuation a secret. No more kissing, no more hoping for more. Yoongi is just a man that he pays for a service and nothing more, so from now on Taehyung will be mature about this and he’s going to stop wagging his tail whenever—

His phone suddenly starts buzzing on top of the coffee table: the screen lights up with Yoongi’s name on it.

“Fuck.” Taehyung scrambles forward, almost dropping wine all over the couch. He sets the glass down on the table and quickly grabs his phone to answer the call. “Hello?”

“Taehyung-ah, I’m sorry for calling you so late.”

Taehyung bites his lip. Why does Yoongi’s voice sound even deeper on the phone, this is madness. “No, it’s alright. Is-is everything okay?”

“Yes, I was just calling you to ask if it’s okay to move this week’s scene to Saturday.” He lets out a sigh. “I know we usually meet on Fridays or Thursdays, but I have a work thing to deal with that evening, and I’m already busy this Thursday.”

“Ah.” Taehyung pouts. This Saturday is when he’s supposed to go to the club with Jungkook. “I’m actually bu—” Now hold on a second. Taehyung blinks and then stares at his glass of wine for a bit. “Just a moment, hyung.”

“Sure?”

Taehyung grabs the glass and downs the wine with deep, slow gulps. 

Fuck it.

“This Saturday I was actually invited to… to a club.” Taehyung licks his lips, slick with wine. “A friend of mine wants me to meet his partner. It’s—it’s a fetish club.”

“Oh?”

“My friend’s partner will be holding a public scene there, and I already said yes. But-but he said I can bring someone, so I was thinking—”

“Wait, what’s the name of the club?”

“Huh?” Taehyung frowns, trying to remember what the club is called. “It’s… in French, I think? Pomme something.”

“Pomme Noire?”

“Ah, yes!”

“Man, this is a small world.” Yoongi chuckles quietly. “I was actually invited there too.”

Oh?

Taehyung brings his feet up on the couch, wrapping an arm around his knees. “You were?”

“Your friend’s partner is Namjoon, yes?”

“Yes!” Taehyung grins. “You know him?”

“Unfortunately, I do,” Yoongi laughs, and Taehyung almost—almost—swoons. “I’ve known him for years. He also invited me to the club this Saturday, but I was going to tell him no in case you were free.” A pause. “But, well, since we’ve both been invited we could go together.”

“Yes, we could,” Taehyung replies and hopes that his years of acting are paying off right now and are making him sound relaxed and confident, instead of a bundle of nervousness. 

“Have you ever been to a fetish club?”

“I haven’t.”

Yoongi hums, and for a while there’s silence. Taehyung listens intently, holding his breath, waiting. The hand holding the phone is clammy, and the rest of his body feels impossibly warm.

And then Yoongi says, “They have private rooms there.”

Taehyung swallows. “I know.”

“Mmh. I’m thinking that—of course, only if you’re comfortable with that—we could have our scene there. After Namjoon’s event, I mean. I’ve used the rooms often, and the club is very strict both with security and with the standards of hygiene.” Yoongi clears his voice then. “And the rooms have tools that I don’t own. Things you wouldn’t get to try out unless you went there.”

Taehyung breathes out. There’s something hot and slow that’s itching under his skin. “Like what?”

“Rigs. Benches.” A beat of silence. “Pretty sure they have fuck machines.”

Taehyung closes his eyes and bites, hard, on his bottom lip. There was a groan there, building up in his chest, and he barely managed to swallow it down. 

“Would you want to try them out?” Yoongi asks, and his voice—is it deeper now? Raspier? “Mh?”

“I—” Taehyung sucks in a quick breath. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Alright. How about this: I’ll think of a scene we can have in one of the rooms, I’ll send it to you and if you’re okay with what you see I’ll book one for us.” 

“Okay. That-that sounds good, yeah.”

“And if you want to, I can drive us there. You could stop by the flat first.” A pause. “I have something to give you anyway.”

This sparks Taehyung’s curiosity enough that, for a moment, he forgets about the warmth of arousal that has been swimming in his body for a while now. “What?”

“It’s a gift.”

“I won’t be able to sleep if you don’t tell me what it is. I’m too curious, hyung.”

“No, you’ll have to wait.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines, and maybe the wine got to him ‘cause he’s being a bit ridiculous. “Can’t you just give me a hint?”

Yoongi heaves a sigh. “Let’s just say it’s something you said you wanted.”

Something he said—

Taehyung freezes. “Oh.”

“Mmh. I’ll see you on Saturday, then.”

Quietly, Taehyung breathes out, “Yes, hyung.”

“Have a goodnight, Taehyung.”

“Y-you too.” Taehyung ends the call and drops the phone on the couch as he slowly starts sinking into the giving cushions.

It’s a Monday night and Kim Taehyung is kind of tipsy, half-hard just from hearing Yoongi’s voice, and he might be about to receive a collar.

“I’m never getting over him,” Taehyung murmurs to himself before filling the glass with more wine.

Min Yoongi

Ah, Taehyung-ah, I forgot to mention this

in the email I sent you.

There are two different kinds of rooms available

for rent

I’ll send you the details of each room right now

ReservationDetailsPommeNoire.PDF

Different kinds?

I’m not exactly an expert hyung, so maybe

u should choose?

Min Yoongi

No, this is not something I

can choose for you

Read what I sent you

ok brb

OH

I SEE

COOL

NEAT

Min Yoongi

So?

Which kind?

,,,

The second one

Min Yoongi

I wish I could say I was surprised

Not a word pls

Min Yoongi

Good choice, Taehyung-ah

I’ll see you on Saturday.

Saturday comes at an unfortunate speed.

The worst part of it is that Taehyung finds himself so busy that he doesn’t even realize just how quickly time passes and so on Saturday morning realization hits him and finds him very much unprepared.

After a minor mental breakdown, Taehyung goes through prepping and showering with an almost cynical approach, the routine finally familiar enough that he does it quickly and without much fanfare, what follows is an excruciating phone call with Jungkook and it ends with his wardrobe in disarray.

“Jungkook, focus. What do you even wear at a fetish club?”

“Fetish gear?” 

“Yeah, well, I don’t have that.”

“Me neither. I usually dress like a slut.”

“You always—never mind.”

“I know you usually dress like a literature professor, hyung, but don’t you own anything that is a bit more… I don’t know, sexy?”

“I like my clothes comfortable, is that a crime?”

“It is tonight.”

“You are so not helping me.”

“Look, total black does the job.”

“Okay, but casual or—”

“Oh my god, hyung, what?”

In the end, Taehyung manages to fish out of the wardrobe some clothes he bought back in college. It’s nothing flashy, just stuff he bought online on a whim while high off cheap weed with Jimin hyping him up by his side.

He stares at his reflection for a while with a frown. The mesh top is dark and not as see-through as he feared but it does show his shoulders quite a lot. And the high-waisted black trousers probably used to be looser in college, but now they fit him snugly. 

He looks—good. He knows that. It’s just that he doesn’t wear stuff like this a lot. Or ever.

“Whatever,” he mutters before grabbing a dark wool coat. 

Screw his insecurities, Taehyung is going to put together some damn confidence and enjoy his night.

By the time he’s standing in front of Yoongi’s door, his confidence is not exactly gone but it’s not as strong as he hoped.

Which is stupid! He looks good, he fucking put effort into styling his hair, which he never does! He has no reason to be so nervous!

“Come on,” he hisses in the silence of the corridor. “Knock, you coward.”

Five minutes later, Taehyung knocks.

Small victories.

Except that then Yoongi opens the door and Taehyung’s knees almost fucking give out on him.

“Hey,” Yoongi smiles at him, holding the door open. “Come in, I’m almost ready.”

Taehyung swallows down a noise. He’s not sure what noise that would have been and he’s glad he’ll never find out.

Here’s the thing: so far, Taehyung only saw Yoongi wearing loose, white shirts and very dark, just as loose slacks. And Yoongi always looks good in them, he looks terribly handsome all the time.

But tonight Yoongi’s wearing a much more fitted black shirt, and these dark, velvety slacks that fit him so fucking well Taehyung swears he’s about to pass out. Turns out Yoongi’s legs are beautiful, too. Figures.

And if he thought his shoulders were broad before, Taehyung is nearly salivating at how big they look in that fitted shirt. And why would he roll up the sleeves at his forearms, is he trying to murder him? Is it on purpose? 

“Taehyung?”

“Huh?” Taehyung blinks himself out of his horny stupor.

“Wanna give me your coat? I’ll be ready soon, I just have to grab some things.”

Taehyung nods and he takes off his scarf and coat, handing them to Yoongi. “Thanks.”

Yoongi stares. Stares some more. Then he takes Taehyung’s coat with a hum and folds it over the couch’s backrest. “I’ll be right back.”

Taehyung ends up wasting time on his phone, texting Jungkook that they’re about to leave, then Yoongi comes back. He has a thick, padded leather jacket folded over his arm and a dark, medium-sized travel bag in his hand. 

“Is this club in Jeju Island?” Taehyung asks and Yoongi snorts.

“There’s stuff I gotta bring.”

“Stuff?”

Yoongi smirks at him as he sets the bag down. “Stuff.”

Ah. 

Right.

Taehyung hums, aware that he must be blushing. 

“It’s not just kinky shit,” Yoongi chuckles then. “They don’t have showers there, so I brought some baby wipes and water. Some chocolate, too. Blankets.”

“Oh, wow. You’re well prepared.”

“Of course, it’s for you.” He says it like a passing thought like it doesn’t have Taehyung’s knees weak. “Now, before we leave there’s one last thing.”

Taehyung watches as Yoongi walks back into the bedroom, only to come back immediately, this time carrying a small, wooden box.

“What’s that?” Taehyung asks.

Yoongi stands in front of him, fidgeting with the box for a moment or so. “It’s what you asked for.”

Taehyung’s brain takes far too long to process that and he’s going to blame that on how nervous he’s been the entire day.

So when Yoongi opens the box, and Taehyung sees the collar resting over a velvety cushion, he doesn’t react. He briefly wonders what his face must look like, because there is not a thought going through his mind right now.

The collar is a deep, burgundy color. Thicker at the front and then thins out gradually in the back, where a small belt clasps it closed. There’s a thin padding on the inside, something soft, but the rest of it is polished leather, with a second strap that wraps around the base, a silver ring in the very center. It’s simple, and so pretty that Taehyung doesn’t know what to do with his hands, can’t decide if he wants to reach over and touch it or just admire it from a distance.

“Taehyung?” 

“Uh-huh.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “If you don’t like it—”

“You really brought it.”

Yoongi frowns lightly. “Of course. You asked.”

“That’s not—” Taehyung realizes he might be getting choked up. “It’s—mine?”

This softens Yoongi’s expression and tugs a smile on his lips. “Yeah, it’s yours.”

Right.

It is. It's his first collar, and Yoongi brought it for him. Chose this for him. 

“Can I wear it?”

“Unless you hate it.”

“Of course I don’t—” Taehyung chuckles, nervousness fading into something warmer. “I love it. Thank you.”

Yoongi stalls for a moment, then asks, “Want me to put it on you?”

“Yes, please.”

Yoongi puts the box down on the table and takes the collar out, fingers careful as if it might break. He undoes the buckle and then stands behind Taehyung. 

The moment the collar presses just under Taehyung’s throat, he holds his breath. It’s soft thanks to the padding, but the collar feels firm, secure. It tightens faintly around his neck when Yoongi fits the buckle into one of the collar’s holes and Taehyung’s eyes close at the feeling. 

“Too tight?” Yoongi asks.

“No.”

Yoongi steps around him, eyes focused on his neck. He hums after a few moments, fingers tracing gently over the leather, and there’s something about the way he’s staring that makes Taehyung’s body heat up all at once.

“Knew you’d look good,” Yoongi says eventually, his voice very quiet. “I’m glad I got to give this to you.” Then his finger hooks under the ring and he tugs a little, smirking at the gasp Taehyung doesn’t manage to hold back. “There are cuffs that go with it, but I’ll save them for another time. It’s good it came on time, I wouldn’t have been too happy to bring you to that club without a collar.”

“Why?” Taehyung asks, and holy shit why is speaking so hard right now?

“‘Cause you’re with me tonight,” Yoongi replies, dark eyes staring at Taehyung. “And I’m not too fond of sharing.”

Taehyung doesn’t quite whimper but, like, almost. He doesn’t have the time to be embarrassed about it because Yoongi is now grinning so smugly that it’s kinda doing things to him.

“You keep acting like that and I don’t know if I’ll be able to wait until we’re at that club.”

“Honestly, me neither,” Taehyung admits.

“Should we go then?”

The club’s quite far from Yoongi’s flat, so the drive takes a while.

If Taehyung spends the majority of the time staring at Yoongi’s profile, that’s not one’s business but his.

“We’re almost there,” Yoongi says at one point, while they drive on a road with almost no traffic. “So, once we’re there we’ll leave the bag and coats at the lobby, phones too.”

“Oh?”

“Most fetish clubs do it for safety reasons. No one wants to end up in a stranger’s photo to be exposed on social media, especially in a BDSM club. The actual club’s kinda hidden, you need a membership card to go there. I have it, so it’s fine. Honestly, I haven’t used it in a while.”

“Why not?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I used to go there often a couple of years ago. I did some public scenes for them, mostly some bondage classes for event nights. But then I started working with more subs so there wasn’t much time to spare, and with my day job, I was too tired to even entertain the idea. Plus, Namjoon’s a lot better at public scenes than me.”

Taehyung hums and then smiles. “Are you a known face?”

Yoongi snorts. “More like a known name. But I always hide my face for the scenes, Namjoon does too.” He turns the car to the left and drives into a large parking lot. “We’re here. Ready?”

“As ready as I can be.”

“It’ll be fun. Promise. Music’s good, drinks too. Though I suggest you don’t get drunk.” He finds an empty spot and parks the car, killing the engine. “Right, let’s go.”

At first, once they’re inside the Pomme Noire, Taehyung is just confused. 

The club looks boring. Really, that’s the only way to put it. It’s just a normal club, with normal music and a strong smell of booze and sweat where people are dancing. 

Yoongi leaves their things at the lobby (in his dark clothes and collar, Taehyung is glad that the crowd is far from him and seems to not notice him), hands a small, red card to the woman at the lobby and she scans it with a pleasant smile before nodding, and pointing Yoongi towards a corner of the club. 

It’s only when they enter an elevator that it hits Taehyung.

“Right, it’s hidden,” he mutters as the doors close.

“Not exactly the most legal place.” Yoongi looks at him. “Still comfortable?”

The elevator starts going up. “I’m fine.”

Yoongi nods. “Remember that if you change your mind during the evening, we can just stay with Namjoon and your friend. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.”

Taehyung just smiles.

Yoongi doesn’t need to know that he’s so horny he’s not even sure how long he’s gonna last before he asks to go to the room he rented.

Once the elevator stops and the doors start opening, Yoongi’s hand settles on the small of his back firmly, then they walk in.

And this—now, this is what Taehyung expected.

Pomme Noire is a huge, penthouse-like space. It’s dark, lights dim if not for the flares of red and purple neon lights that sweep over the crowd and walls. The music is loud, dark synth-wave and heavy bass. People dance over a sunken dancefloor, all dressed in dark clothes or wearing very little at all; there are men and women in lingerie, others in fetish gear. When they walk past the bar, Taehyung sees that the bartenders, too, wear harnesses over their white shirts, one of them even has a gag stuffed in his mouth while he makes drinks. 

He spots a couple sitting at the counter, a lithe, pretty woman who’s holding onto a leash that connects to a tall, built man’s collar.

People dance pressed to each other, hands wondering, others sit at couches and armchairs, some on each other’s laps, others holding onto their submissive’s napes while they talk.

All in all, it’s—probably one of the most comfortable places Taehyung has been to.

Even as they walk, heading to the table Jungkook rented for them, people nod at Taehyung and Yoongi, smiling in acknowledgment. 

It’s the sense of community, maybe, that makes this feel so very easy.

“Taehyung!” Jungkook exclaims once he spots them, rising from a leather sofa and waving his arm.

Taehyung holds back a snort at Jungkook’s obvious excitement and lets himself be choked in a hug. “Alright, calm down.”

“I’m so happy you came, really.” He pulls back and, immediately, his eyes go to the collar. There’s a subtle grin, then he turns to Yoongi. “You must be Min Yoongi!”

Yoongi nods. “Jungkook, right? Namjoon told me about you.”

“I’d hope so.”

“He doesn’t shut the fuck up about you, honestly.”

“Good.” Jungkook gestures at them to sit, and waits for them to be comfortable before he says, “Hyung will be back soon, had to talk to the manager to prepare something for the scene.”

Taehyung hums and then freezes. Yoongi sat next to him and now there’s a hand curved over Taehyung’s thigh, the weight firm. He collects himself and clears his throat. “You’ve been waiting a lot?”

“No, I only got here a few minutes ago. Ah!” Jungkook looks past Taehyung and he’s got this huge, blinding smile on his face. “Hyung, you’re back!”

Kim Namjoon is exactly how Taehyung expected him to be: tall, and fucking built, with a gentle face and a deep voice. Exactly Jungkook’s type.

“Finally I get to meet you,” Namjoon sighs as he sits by Jungkook’s side, looking at Taehyung. “Jungkook told me so much about you.”

“Likewise.”

“He told me that if I ever broke his heart you’d kill me with your bare hands and then Jimin would hide the body.”

Taehyung nods. “Yes.”

“Good to know.” Then he glances at Yoongi and smirks. “Jungkook’s not the only one who told me about you.”

“Nice to see you too, ass,” Yoongi grumbles. 

“I see the quest for the collar went well.”

Taehyung blinks. Jungkook snickers under his breath.

Yoongi says, “I’ll punch you in the face.”

“Anyway.” Namjoon looks at Taehyung again. At some point, his hand ended up curved over the back of Jungkook’s neck, fiddling with the strap of his black collar, a thin, pretty thing. “Jungkook told me you act. Theater, right?”

“Ah, yeah.”

“I love theater!”

“Namjoon-hyung is a pretentious snob,” Jungkook says with a smile. It widens when Namjoon’s hand squeezes at his neck. 

“I am a lover of all arts. Jungkook invited me to go with him when the show opens if that’s okay with you.”

“Of course,” Taehyung replies. “The more tickets are sold the better. Our director is terrified of empty seats.”

From there, the conversation flows easily.

Namjoon works with Yoongi, one of the producers of the label, and Taehyung finds out he actually worked with a huge number of extremely popular singers and idol groups. Jungkook starts talking about this new photography project he wants to do, one focused on Seoul’s BDSM scene, and it turns out that Yoongi also loves photography and so they end up chatting about it for a while. It’s obvious Yoongi is getting more comfortable too, voice getting louder, his laugh coming out easily, but his hand doesn’t move from Taehyung’s thigh.  

At one point, Jungkook leans in to whisper something in Namjoon’s ear. The man frowns and then rolls his eyes fondly before saying, “Yoongi-hyung, should we get drinks?”

“Sure.” Yoongi turns to Taehyung. “Do you want something?”

“They have non-alcoholic drinks too,” Namjoon informs him. “I can’t drink before a scene anyway.”

“I’ll have whatever you’ll have then, Namjoon-ssi.”

“Alright.” Then Namjoon arches an eyebrow at Jungkook. “You?”

Jungkook grins. “You know what I want.”

Namjoon hums, his hand squeezing around Jungkook’s neck again before he rises and leaves, followed by Yoongi. Taehyung watches them disappear behind a wall of people. 

“Asked hyung to leave so we could talk for a bit,” Jungkook tells him, grinning. “By the way, I’m telling you now, I’m gonna get fucking drunk.”

“Good for you?”

“I like it when hyung fucks me when I’m wasted.”

“Why would you tell me—never mind.”

“So did you and Yoongi magically get together or what?”

Taehyung frowns and scoffs. “Don’t be ridiculous, of course not.”

Jungkook blinks. “Huh. Guess he’s just like that with subs, then.”

“Like what?”

“Fucking possessive?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head. “Didn’t take his hand off you for a second. You didn’t notice, probably, but at one point there was a guy staring at you and Yoongi glared at him like he was about to murder him.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, sinking into the sofa. “You’re making it up.”

“I never make anything up.” He pauses. “He even got you a collar.”

“I asked him to.”

“Yeah, but—Namjoon-hyung told me not to tell you, but screw him.” Jungkook leans in with a conspiratory smile. “Yoongi called Namjoon non-stop this week for advice on collars.”

Taehyung warms up. “He did?”

“Yeah, asked for advice on which leather is best, what shape is safer for breathing, good stores. Hyung was surprised ‘cause Yoongi never brought a collar for his subs.” 

Before Taehyung can say anything, Namjoon and Yoongi are back. Drinks are passed around, and soon the conversation starts right from where it had stopped. The drink Namjoon got for them is a lot sweeter than Taehyung thought, and he wonders if the man has a sweet tooth. Yoongi also opted for something without alcohol. Jungkook’s the only one who happily sips at his whiskey, and makes Namjoon go and get him a second one once his glass is empty.

The hand is back on his thigh and Taehyung finds himself enjoying it immensely.

Eventually, it’s time for Namjoon to go.

“You guys stay here, you’ll have a good view from this spot.” Namjoon points behind him where, past the dancing, swaying crowd, there’s a large curtain half-hiding what must be a stage. “I’ll see you later.”

Jungkook gets up with Namjoon, swaying for a moment and then giggling when Namjoon grabs his waist, steadying him with an exasperated, but fond sigh. 

“He likes to watch from backstage,” Namjoon says.

“So that once it’s over I can immediately suck—” 

Namjoon squeezes hard at his hip. “Anyway, we’ll be going. I’ll catch you later.” Then he smirks at Yoongi. “Or not.”

Taehyung watches them go and, right before they blend in with the crowd, he has the displeasure of seeing Namjoon’s hand move from Jungkook’s hip to his ass, to grab at it roughly.

“Well,” Yoongi muses after a while. “They’re disgusting.”

“Honestly, I think Jungkook might have been on his best behavior tonight.” Taehyung takes a sip of his drink, mostly melted ice and peach juice. “Usually he’s worse.” 

“He’s fun.” Yoongi straightens his shoulders, sitting more comfortably. “I can see why Namjoon’s so taken with him. He always liked them bratty. But it’s good to see him so happy and in love.”

Taehyung smiles. “You care about him a lot, don’t you?”

Yoongi hums. “I’ve known him for so long, he’s like a brother to me. Namjoon’s had it rough in the last couple of years, but since he’s met Jungkook he looks—I don’t know. Lighter. Like he finally filled an empty space.”

Taehyung looks at the hand on his thigh. He’s warm there, even past the layer of his trousers. “Must be nice.”

Yoongi’s head tightens for a moment. “Yeah. Must be nice.”

The volume of the music suddenly lowers into more of a background sound, and the colorful neon lights all turn white, pointing directly at the stage. The scene must be about to start.

People start filtering out the dancefloor, some heading to the bar, while others go outside on a terrace to smoke and chat. But the majority of people stay by the stage, some joining the open space of the floor only now. It seems that most people came today to see the public scene.

The hum of people talking quiets down once Namjoon comes out from behind a curtain on stage, carrying with him bundles of red rope. Half of his face is covered by a black cotton mask and, trailing behind him is a man who seems to be around Taehyung’s age, all sinuous curves and a lithe, tall build. There’s barely any noise apart from the low music, probably because everyone is aware that Namjoon and the sub need to focus and not be disturbed.

Taehyung watches as the young man sits on a padded bench while Namjoon puts down two rounds of rope. 

“Namjoon uses hemp ropes,” Yoongi whispers, his mouth close to Taehyung’s ear. “Good grip, easy to use.”

Taehyung hums, swallowing.

From the ceiling, a large, long bamboo cane starts lowering, attached to a metal bar through several metal rings. Namjoon turns to the young man, talks to him for a while, then steps back. The man takes off his robe and sits completely nude. 

For a few minutes, in the quiet, Namjoon works the rope around the man’s chest with slow, measured movements, always making sure that the audience can see what he’s doing. His fingers are deft and his hands steady as he loops rope into lines and patterns, securing the man’s wrists together with complicated-looking knots, and then bounding them to his chest with more rope, slowly creating a harness of knots and lines. 

“Can you do this kind of bondage?” Taehyung asks, making sure his voice is quiet.

Yoongi’s thumb starts pressing into the meat of Taehyung’s thigh. “Not as good as Namjoon, but I can do basic suspension. My patterns don’t look nearly as beautiful as his.”

Namjoon now helps the man to get down the bench and then gets on top of the bench himself, using more rope to loop in the middle of the raised bamboo cane. He secures it with a series of knots and, as he does that, the submissive turns this way and that to the audience to show the various knots. 

Namjoon gets down after a while, with leftover rope connected to the bamboo. He pushes the bench away and waits for the sub to stand in front of him before he starts feeding the rope into the harness he created before.

Taehyung drinks more. It’s just ice by now, but his mouth has gone dry.

There’s something that is burning deep inside him. Maybe it’s the fact that he’s a spectator, watching something so intimate, or maybe it’s just the ropes. 

Namjoon kneels down and taps over his thigh. The young man rests his foot over it and Namjoon starts tying the rope around the man’s thigh, looping it around the calf before he tugs. Like this, the submissive’s leg is bent, calf pressed on the underside of his thigh, and Namjoon quickly ties knots to secure it. 

It takes Taehyung a moment to realize that, by now, the sub is hard. His cock twitches the more knots are tied, curves over his belly, and Taehyung holds his breath. 

Namjoon moves around the man, checking knots and ropes, tugging and pulling. Then, he grabs onto the line of rope that is connected to the cane and, with an audible grunt, he pulls it. 

Gradually, the sub is lifted up and suspended in the air. There’s a moan, maybe, or a similar noise, the rope digging into the meat of his legs and chest. He sways in the air, head lolling back, eyes closed and dick visibly throbbing. Namjoon ties the rope to a ring on the floor and steps back to gently push at the sub’s back so that he sways more. The bamboo creaks lightly, rope tightening around it.

Taehyung exhales too roughly. Yoongi’s hand goes tight around his thigh.

How must that feel? To be so helpless and exposed, entirely at someone else’s mercy?

“Does it hurt?” Taehyung hears himself asking.

“The ropes?” Yoongi’s hand curves, fingers trailing down his inner thigh. “To an extent.”

Taehyung—might be in a predicament.

If he was horny as a general state of being the entire evening, by now it’s starting to get to him. 

Taehyung blinks hard, staring as Namjoon steps around the swaying young man, hand trailing over his rope-bound chest and stomach, then leg, all the while purposefully ignoring the man’s hard cock. 

“Are you imagining it?” Yoongi’s voice is so close now that Taehyung has to suppress a shiver. “It seems like you are.”

Taehyung closes his eyes, Yoongi’s breath softly fanning over his cheek. “Yeah.”

Yoongi hums and his hand moves up his thigh, fingers digging into the skin firmly. Taehyung exhales shakily, and his cock twitches in his pants.

A soft, quiet moan catches his attention and when he looks at the stage again, he sees that Namjoon has finally started touching the man. Loose fingers drag over the curve of his cock, rubbing at the tip. Bound as he is, the man can only shake faintly, toes curling. 

Taehyung spreads his legs. Yoongi makes a noise by his side, but then moves away, and leans back again to focus on the scene. His hand, though, starts massaging his thigh with a strength that is impossible to ignore. With each passing second, his fingers inch closer and closer to Taehyung’s groin, where he’s starting to bulge in his pants.

Anyone could see, Taehyung thinks with a note of urgency, but unfortunately, that just makes him hotter.

But then he thinks, People will see. Later, people will see.

His cock jumps just when Yoongi’s fingers press right where his thigh meets the hip, so close to where Taehyung wants him to touch and yet nowhere near enough— he ends up moaning.

Yoongi stiffens. His hand squeezes tight enough it almost hurts. 

Taehyung ends up pushing his back into the couch, trying to regulate his breathing.

No one heard him, it was too quiet. No one’s even looking at him, everyone’s too focused on the scene, and fuck, Namjoon’s stroking the sub fast now, fist all tight, his other hand hidden between the man’s legs to tease at his hole. And the bound man writhes and whines, flushed red in the face, damp with sweat.

Taehyung’s breath hitches, he grinds his hips down, biting off a noise when Yoongi’s fingers start pressing in the fold of his pants, between the supple flesh of his thigh and hip, so close to his dick now that it’s impossible not to get harder.

“Hyung,” Taehyung breathes out, tilting his head to try and catch a glimpse of Yoongi. “Hyung.”

“Yes?” Yoongi’s chin is resting over his palm, elbow braced over his knee. He seems very focused on the stage, but Taehyung can still see the hard set of his jaw.

“Please.”

Yoongi swallows, his hand dipping down, to cup at Taehyung’s inner thigh, thumb pressing over his bulge. Taehyung keens, almost bucks his hips into the touch. “Please what?”

Taehyung’s head swims, heat lapping at him. God, anyone could see, Taehyung almost wishes they would. He wants that. Wants to be seen. “Room.”

Yoongi finally looks at him. In the dark of the club, the weight of his gaze is even more piercing. 

“Take me to the room,” Taehyung says again, his voice caught in a whine. “Want you.”

Yoongi’s lips part around a long exhale. His hand settles for a moment before it disappears completely and Taehyung has to fight his own growing arousal to keep himself from arching up to seek his touch.

Yoongi instead takes his hand and helps him up. “Let’s go then.”

╭─────╮

Yoongi had expected Taehyung to be affected, one way or another, by the environment. Pomme Noire is famous in the scene for being one of the lewder clubs—classy, sure, but people don’t come here just for drinks. And Namjoon’s public scene was the final drop, the one that made the water tip over.

What Yoongi wasn’t expecting, though, was his own reaction. 

Seeing Taehyung so aroused, so taken, so at ease, enough to let Yoongi touch him where anyone could have seen them hit somewhere deep. 

He’s glad Taehyung was the one who asked to go to the room, otherwise Yoongi would have made him come in his pants on that damn couch.

They walk quickly, past the small crowd and into the private area of the club. In silence, they make their way through the dimly lit corridors, passing past a couple of girls too busy with each other to even notice them. 

Their room is the last one and Yoongi swipes the key card over the lock pad and pushes the door open, stepping aside to let Taehyung inside. 

It’s been a while since he used one of the club’s rooms, but not much has changed. They changed some furniture, a new wardrobe, and a larger, plusher white leather couch. The lights have been changed too, there used to be a simple ceiling lamp but customers complained about the harsh light for weeks. Now, the room is lit by strips of pale purple LEDs, casting the room in an almost dreamy, lilac hue. There is an obvious scent of detergent, the room must have been cleaned a few hours before opening, but the scent is not unpleasant, slightly floral, and not too strong.

The door locks with a beep behind Yoongi and a small neon-panel lights up red to signal that the room is occupied. 

Yoongi looks to the right and sees that, per his request, the bench and the rest of the tools he had requested have already been set in place. By the bench’s side, there’s a small table made of polished metal and his bag is on top of it. 

But Taehyung’s not looking at the bench, or at the bag, or at the obvious, large fucking-machine just behind the bench. 

No, Taehyung is looking at the spying windows. 

There are two of them and they’re small, placed lower than normal on the walls. From experience, Yoongi knows it’s because there are small sofas and chairs there for willing spectators to enjoy the show more comfortably. The glass is tinted, so that from inside the room one would only see shadows moving behind them. But, for now, it seems that no one is here to watch.

“Do you want me to close them?”

Taehyung blinks and looks at him. “What?”

“If you’ve changed your mind I can close them. No one can open them from the outside.”

Taehyung glances at the small windows for a moment. He shakes his head. “Leave them open.”

Yoongi breathes in, a wave of heat washing over him slowly. 

He goes to stand in front of Taehyung, who holds his gaze for a few seconds before dropping it. There’s a faint flush already creeping over his face, and his jaw is clenched.

“Are you nervous?” Yoongi asks, lifting a hand to rest it over Taehyung’s hip.

Taehyung lets out a chuckle. “Maybe. Just a bit.” He clears his voice. “But I’m alright.”

“It’s fine to be nervous.” Yoongi tugs faintly at the fabric of Taehyung’s shirt. “Let me.”

Taehyung makes a questioning noise but, when Yoongi starts pulling at the shirt he seems to get the message. He lifts his arms and Yoongi pulls off the shirt and then throws it over to the couch. Then he’s undoing Taehyung’s belt, the buttons of his trousers, and, carefully, he starts sliding them down Taehyung’s legs while going down, until he’s on his knees.

Above him, Taehyung gasps, quiet and surprised. 

Is it the first time Yoongi undressed him? Not just the robe Taehyung wears for him, his actual clothes… maybe. There’s something about that—about knowing that, today, it’s him who’s getting rid of the clothes, him who’s going to leave Taehyung naked and bare—that cuts off Yoongi’s breath for a moment.

He helps Taehyung out of his boots, his socks, and then the trousers, holding onto Taehyung’s calf as he slips out of them. 

And now it’s just skin. Taehyung’s legs are smooth and soft to the touch, softer still when Yoongi presses his mouth to his knee, trailing with his lips to the inner side. Taehyung shivers, whispers something under his breath that Yoongi doesn’t quite catch. His fingers hook under the waistband of Taehyung’s briefs and he pulls them down slowly, looking up from where he’s mouthing at Taehyung’s thigh.

Taehyung is staring at him with lidded, dark eyes, chest rising and falling with shallow breaths.

“It occurred to me I never used my mouth on you,” Yoongi says then, eyeing Taehyung’s half-hard cock. At this, it twitches, stiffens. “I should fix that.”

“Hyung.”

“Not today, though. I have other plans.” He glances at Taehyung and grins. “Don’t look so disappointed.”

Taehyung bites his bottom lip. “Am not.”

“Next time.” Yoongi presses another kiss to Taehyung’s thigh and rises. “Next time I’ll fix my mistake.”

Before Taehyung can say anything, Yoongi steps away and goes to sit on the couch. Wordlessly, he spreads his legs slightly, leaning back, and points at his lap. There’s a smirk tugging at his mouth when Taehyung very eagerly joins him, climbing over his lap and settling over his thighs, hands resting obediently by his side.

“How come every time I make you sit like this you hold yourself up?” Yoongi grabs Taehyung by the hips and drags him closer until he’s sitting more comfortably. “Mh?”

“Hyung,” Taehyung grumbles. “Aren’t I heavy?”

“You’re a person, Taehyung. People have weight.”

“Yeah, but—”

“I like it.” Yoongi sighs, and his hand travels to the small of Taehyung’s back. “I like feeling my partner’s weight on me. Feels good.” And at this, Taehyung’s expression eases a little and Yoongi feels him settling in fully, heavily. “Like that.” His hand starts stroking up Taehyung’s back, then down, and with each stroke, his fingertips tease closer to his ass. Taehyung’s breath hitches but he doesn’t say anything. “I’m thinking—” but Yoongi trails off.

He gets distracted, kind of. Taehyung is sitting on his lap completely naked, legs spread at Yoongi’s sides, his cock twitching whenever Yoongi’s fingers trail down, between his ass cheeks, chest rising and falling with a pretty flush dusted over the tanned skin, and there’s all this lilac neon washing shadows down his neck, between his thighs…

“Let me mark you a little,” Yoongi breathes out before he can stop. “Nowhere that can be seen. Is that o—”

“Yes,” Taehyung cuts him off, voice a bit shaky. “Please.”

Oh?

“Have I been neglecting this part of you?” Yoongi asks with a smile while, as subtle as he can, he wraps his arms behind Taehyung’s back and drags him down his thighs, closer. “I’ve always wanted to but with your job I thought it might be better not to.”

“‘s fine,” Taehyung whispers. “Just—if it’s somewhere I can cover it’s fine.”

“Good,” Yoongi hums and then surges forward to press an open-mouthed kiss to Taehyung’s clavicle. As he does so, he pulls Taehyung flush against him, hears him make a noise at that, and now he’s fully resting over his groin. Yoongi groans at the feeling, at the weight pressing down on his growing erection. Taehyung’s definitely harder too, but that will be something he will deal with later.

For now, he just wants to focus on mapping Taehyung’s skin with his mouth. He starts slow, kissing around Taehyung’s pec, just around his nipple until the man on top of him squirms, gasping at the sudden friction of his dick against Yoongi’s shirt. 

The music comes muffled and quiet in the room, and Taehyung’s breathing is quickening, but he stays completely still, hands still by his side. 

“You can hold onto me,” Yoongi murmurs, and he drags his teeth over Taehyung’s skin. “You can move, too.”

After a moment, Taehyung tentatively rests his hands over Yoongi’s shoulders and lets out a long sigh when Yoongi starts sucking on a spot just under his collarbones. 

And, fuck, it’s good. Usually, Taehyung always smells of Yoongi’s body wash and lotion, but tonight it’s different. Yoongi knows Taehyung has showered and prepped before coming here, can smell a faint scent of soap, something herbal, but there’s almost something deeper to it and, belatedly, he realizes it’s just Taehyung’s scent; his skin, his body, him. 

Yoongi groans, eyes closing, and he feels slightly dizzy with the sudden urge to taste him. So he starts licking him, tongue flat over the space of his chest. Then, he bites.

Taehyung flinches with a quiet cry, and his body goes more pliant. Yoongi keeps at it, biting, sucking, soothing the sting with his tongue only to tug at the supple skin again with his teeth.

Soon enough, Taehyung is breathing fast, moans trapped somewhere in there but so quiet they get lost in the air. His hips start making small, jerky thrusts, cock trapped between his and Yoongi’s stomach, his ass dragging deliciously over Yoongi’s erection. 

Yoongi pulls back just to admire the red, blooming bruise he left on him, skin shiny with his spit, and he dives in again, this time to take Taehyung’s nipple in his mouth, teeth sinking in carefully, lips puckered around the skin to suck.

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines and his fingers grab onto a handful of Yoongi’s hair. “O-oh, there it’s—good.”

Yoongi hums, his cock jumping in his slacks. Taehyung must feel it under him and moans a little, dragging his ass over the length. It wasn’t exactly in the plans for Yoongi to orgasm tonight, but he can tell he’s gonna give in to the urge later in the scene.

For now, though, he focuses on Taehyung.

At first, he had suggested this as a way to relax Taehyung even further, to distract him from the unfamiliar environment. But one bruise turns into one, then two, three, and then Yoongi stops counting. 

He’s hard. He’s fucking panting, almost. His jaw aches, his mouth burns, and Taehyung’s skin is hot and sensitive with every bite, every sting, every drag of his teeth and tongue. On top of him, Taehyung arches and bows, mindlessly rutting against his shirt, cock hard and wet at the tip, and it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose but every quiet sound he makes is going straight to Yoongi’s ego, fueling his streak of control and filling him with fantasies because, really, he should have done this a lot sooner.

Of course Taehyung would love this kind of attention. As much as he’s into being humiliated and spanked red, Taehyung loves praise, he loves being cared for. If he’s reacting like this for so little— what would he be like if Yoongi spent an entire scene worshiping him? 

Next time. Next time, Yoongi will make him go insane with his mouth and hands.

He pulls back, wets his lips, and goes in again to lap at a hard nipple. Taehyung shudders, moans, head lolling back, fingers pulling at Yoongi’s hair. 

“Hyung,” he breathes out, voice deep and velvety. “D-don’t stop, there—touch me more? Please?”

Yoongi obliges. He moves to Taehyung’s left pec, bites on a bruise he left earlier, and exhales rough and long when Taehyung whimpers and his hips jerk. His hands move to Taehyung’s ass to grab and spread him, fingers prodding at his hole, clenching even though he hasn’t even touched him there yet.

“Pretty,” Yoongi groans and then pulls Taehyung’s nipple with his teeth before sucking around it. “Gonna fill you up so good.”

“Fuck.” Taehyung swallows audibly. “Yeah, want it. Want it so bad.”

At this, Yoongi pulls back to look at him. Taehyung has his eyes closed as he works his hips down, a bit lost in the rhythm of it, and his lips are slick and red, like he’s been biting them and—

Yoongi wants to kiss him. Almost does.

But they haven’t done that since that first time, and back then Taehyung was gone, lost in the high of his pleasure, so—probably not. If Taehyung wanted to kiss again, he would have probably done so during their last couple of scenes.

It’s fine. Maybe it will happen again.

For now, Yoongi admires his work. Taehyung’s chest is a map of red bruises, of bite-marks and hickeys, nipples puffy and red. 

“Fucking gorgeous,” Yoongi whispers, and he brings a hand up, behind Taehyung’s nape. His fingers hook under the collar’s leather and he pulls—

Taehyung’s eyes fly open and his voice breaks around a moan that sounds like it’s been punched out of him. Against Yoongi’s stomach, his cock twitches and beads with precome.

“Oh, look at you.”

“Hyung,” Taehyung gasps and he sounds like he can’t breathe. “Hyung.”

“You like that?” He tugs the collar again and watches the leather dig into Taehyung’s throat.

“Yes,” Taehyung hisses, eyes fluttering closed again. “Like it a lot.”

Yoongi swallows; his erection now pushes uncomfortably against the fabric of his slacks. 

Fuck, he’s never had a sub wear a collar for him. Not one he gifted, one he spent hours choosing carefully, one his sub asked him for. 

This, Taehyung wearing it and loving it, being so worked up just because Yoongi pulled at it a little—it has his chest hot with something possessive and it feels fucking good.

So he plays with it for a bit more, pulling it faintly and fitting his fingers under it. “Ready for more?”

“So ready,” Taehyung whispers.

“And what will it be today?”

“Huh?”

“How do you want me, Taehyung?”

Taehyung shivers, dick jerking. “I like it so-so much when you ask me that.” He straightens up, and his fingers ease where they’d been holding onto Yoongi’s hair. “I want hyung to-to be mean.” He wets his lips and rolls his hips. “Want it to burn.”

Yoongi’s fingers twitch where they’re hooked around the collar. The leather bites into Taehyung’s neck and his eyes roll back, his breath cut short.

Tapping on his thigh to signal Taehyung to get off, Yoongi releases the collar and stands up. He guides Taehyung towards the bench with a firm hand on his back. 

“Knees on these,” Yoongi says, pointing at the two leg-rests hanging low under the main cushion of the bench. “Then lay on your stomach.”

Taehyung eyes the bench for a moment or so before he sets one knee on the first leg-rest, then the other. He lays flat on his stomach over the plush leather of the bench, head craning to the side while he waits for further instructions. 

“Arms in the cuffs by your neck, I’ll tie them for you in a second. There you go.” Yoongi starts securing the cuffed leather straps around Taehyung’s wrists. This way, Taehyung’s hands are secured by his face, with no way for him to move them. “Comfortable?”

Taehyung swallows, eyes blinking fast. “Yes.”

“Good.” Yoongi rounds the bench and stands behind Taehyung. “I’ll tie your thighs and ankles too.”

“Yes, hyung.” 

So Yoongi gets to these last straps. Ankles first, the cufflinks a softer, more giving leather to avoid chafing, and then he works on the ones at Taehyung’s thighs, swallowing down a curse when he sees them dig a little into the meat of his legs as he pulls them. Finally, Yoongi reaches for a level just at the side of the bench and pushes it: the bench goes down until it’s reclined just slightly, just enough.

Taehyung whines at this, hands closing into fists and Yoongi snorts. “I’m not done yet, don’t get shy on me.”

So Yoongi settles behind him again and reaches for the leg rests, grabbing them before he pushes them apart. 

Like this, bent and strapped over the bench on his knees and stomach, legs spread apart, hips held up to present his ass, Taehyung is fully, perfectly exposed.

Yoongi sucks in a quick breath and adjusts himself in his slacks, squeezing at his cock. “Look at you. Can’t do a thing like this, mh?” He grabs Taehyung’s ass, spreads him open. “Ready to use.”

On the bench, Taehyung squirms and lets out a shaky, vulnerable noise, all breathy and overwhelmed. Hanging between his legs, his cock is hard and heavy, twitching at every teasing touch of Yoongi’s hands.

He doesn’t want to waste time, pleasantly surprised at how at ease Taehyung is despite this being his first time so heavily restrained on a bench and in such a new environment, so he opens the bag left on the table and grabs the lube. “Color?”

“Green, hyung,” Taehyung replies, his voice warm and thick with arousal.

This time he doesn’t take his time to warm it up, and instead squeezes the lube directly over Taehyung’s hole before quickly circling his thumb around the rim, slicking his fingers up. Taehyung clenches, his hole flutters, and Yoongi pushes two fingers inside. 

Taehyung wants him mean, and Yoongi is happy to oblige.

Pushing in, Taehyung is tight and warm, hole sucking him in even when Taehyung yelps and tries squirming, barely able to move. With a click of his tongue, Yoongi brings his free hand down in a fast slap on Taehyung’s ass, earning himself a choked whimper. “Stop fucking moving,” he says, fingers fucking into him and out deep and hard. “‘s not like you can’t take two fingers. Bet you could already take more.”

Taehyung tightens around his fingers, moans quiet and deep. Soon enough he’s relaxing, taking Yoongi’s thrusts with barely any resistance. Yoongi grabs the lube again, squeezes more over Taehyung’s crack and watches the way it collects over his fingers before he pushes it inside with each thrust, hole slick and hot. It’s getting messy already, lube trailing down Taehyung’s balls and cock, but Yoongi needs him loose and wet tonight, ready for something a lot bigger than usual.

Two fingers become three, and Taehyung’s voice gets louder with each minute, with each careful press of Yoongi’s fingers against his prostate. His hips start jerking clumsily like he wants to rut against something, but his dick just hangs and twitches into nothing. 

Without taking his fingers out, Yoongi reaches into the bag again with his free hand, prodding around until he finds the first plug. This one’s a new addition, something he got for situations like this. It’s thick at the tip, goes larger right before the neck that then closes into a t-shaped base, where the button is. 

Yoongi pulls his fingers out and immediately replaces them with the plug, pushing it in slowly but steadily. Taehyung stiffens at the feeling of the thick, blunt tip, but his hole stretches easily around it the deeper it goes, slick and soft after Yoongi’s fingers, dark silicone shiny with lube as it enters. By the time Taehyung has swallowed the larger portion of the toy, his rim is stretched obscenely around it, lube trailing down Yoongi’s fingers.

“Haah—fuck,” Taehyung groans as the plug fully slides in, his hole clenching around the silicone neck. “Big.”

“Isn’t that how you like it?” Yoongi tugs at the plug, just to mess with him a little. “Fucking size-queen.” 

“I—” Taehyung shivers, his thighs trembling. “I’m not—”

“You are. You like it when I fuck you with the biggest toys I have. Like it when you feel full.” Then he holds onto the base and presses the button twice. 

Taehyung flinches once the vibrations start, toes curling at the sudden stimulation, and then melts into a long moan, pressed flush and heavily onto the bench. His hips twitch, bucking up, but it might be out of his control and Yoongi decides to let it go.

“See? You can take it.” Yoongi leaves the vibrations at the lowest setting and starts massaging Taehyung’s back, stroking down to the curve of his ass, and up again. He doesn’t want Taehyung to come too soon and needs him to relax. He set a fast pace, barely leaving him time to breathe from one step to the other, but he knows Taehyung’s limits and knows he’s enjoying this. 

He presses his thumbs over the divots at the small of Taehyung’s back, down over the swell of his ass and lower, to his thighs, where the straps restrain his legs, and then up again, the same process over and over until he can see Taehyung has gone pliant, muscles relaxed and his breathing more regular.

“Good slut. What’s your color?”

Taehyung hums, and answers, “‘s green.”

“Then are you ready?”

“Fuck, I’m so ready,” Taehyung groans and his cock gives an interested twitch.

Yoongi laughs under his breath and he pops the first button of his shirt, feeling too hot. If Taehyung is ready then Yoongi’s almost buzzing with excitement.

From his bag, Yoongi pulls out the flogger. He takes a few moments to make sure all the numerous tails are not tangled together, feeling the leather between his fingers and fixing his hold around the handle. Once he’s sure everything is in order, Yoongi steps back to send the flogger down on his own thigh quickly and hard. He hums at the feeling, the sting it brings, and lines himself behind Taehyung.

“I’m glad I get to use this on you,” he says as he raises the flogger to let the tails’ tips trail over Taehyung’s back. “Floggers are a favorite of mine.”

Taehyung holds his breath, his skin rising with goosebumps. 

“It feels different than a crop. Hurts different.” Yoongi lets the tips fall down between Taehyung’s legs, teasing down the length of his cock. “Stings. Lingers more.”

Taehyung shudders at this, his body trembling visibly for a moment, and he clenches around the plug with a quiet moan.

“You’ll love it,” Yoongi says, dragging the top of the flogger’s handle over Taehyung’s inner thigh while he reaches for his cock, neglected and stiff, to give it a few light strokes, rubbing his thumb over the tip. “You’re so wet already.”

“That—feels good,” Taehyung moans and, uselessly, he tries fucking into Yoongi’s loose fist. “Hyung, p-please.”

“You’re going to be polite, aren’t you?”

“Yes, yes, just—want it so bad, I’ll be good, promise.”

“Good slut.” Yoongi steps back, gets a good grip on the handle then sends down the flogger firmly and quickly on Taehyung’s ass.

Taehyung flinches with a surprised cry, then moans when he ends up clenching hard around the plug, legs shaking. “Thank you.”

Yoongi hums, licking his lips and sending down the flogger again, harder this time, only to then switch his grip so that he’s holding the end of the handle between two fingers. Like that, he starts rolling and flicking his wrist so that the tips of the tails continuously hit on Taehyung’s skin in fluid circles, the strength a lot less intense but relentless.

At first, Taehyung seems to relax as the pain subsides. But then he starts shivering, and his skin goes red where the flogger’s tips keep on hitting. Yoongi keeps the same rhythm, wrist flicking, body moving with it, and he watches with rapture the way Taehyung starts squirming, legs pulling at the restraints to try and shy away from it. But he’s strapped to this bench, pressed to it, vulnerable.s

“Oh, f-fuck,” Taehyung pants, toes curling when Yoongi starts rolling his wrist faster, the tips coming down harder. “Fuck, thank you, feels—ah!” His back bows when a sudden, harsh hit lands on the back of his thigh. 

“That’s it,” Yoongi hisses, changing the rhythm of the flogger, letting it come down harder, closer so that it’s not just the tips anymore but the length of the tails. “Good slut, just focus on the burn.”

The tails slap with a dry noise between his asscheeks, down on his thighs, up again, harder, faster, then slower, the tips again, the sensation less intense but unyielding, the pace steady.

And soon enough, Taehyung is losing himself to it. He moans loud and hoarse, hips jerking with each hit and his hole going tight around the plug, lube sliding down, to his inner thighs. There is a constant tremor to his body now, harsh shudders whenever Yoongi focuses on the same spot long enough that his skin goes red, bruised in stripes. He’s hard and leaking, drawn taut, and by now he’s sensitive enough that his moans turn into cries, into gasps, toes curling and arms pulling at the cuffs uselessly.

Minutes go by before Yoongi stops, his own breath short and fast. “Color.”

“Green,” Taehyung whimpers. “D-don’t stop—”

Yoongi steps closer and reaches between his legs to squeeze at Taehyung’s cockhead hard, biting off a moan when Taehyung cries out loudly, his dick twitching between Yoongi’s fingers.

“You should know better by now than tell me what to do.” Next, Yoongi grabs the base of the plug and pulls it out slowly, until Taehyung’s rim stretches around the flared base. 

“Sorry,” Taehyung gasps, but his voice breaks when Yoongi pushes the plug into him again. “A-ah, hyung, that’s so good.”

“Yeah?” Holding onto the base, Yoongi starts fucking the plug into him, making sure Taehyung’s hole catches onto the flared end each time, chest hot with every loud, deep moan Taehyung makes. “What do we say when we feel good?”

“Thank you,” Taehyung whimpers, hole clenching tight as the plug slides in again, sucking it in. 

“Good boy.” Yoongi pulls the toy back, twists it, fucks it back into Taehyung hard and deep. Then he presses the button again, feels it vibrating harder where he’s holding it, and Taehyung's voice cracks, fingers desperately trying to hold onto the smooth leather. 

Yoongi steps back and takes a deep breath before he swings the flogger down hard once, twice, tails dragging over Taehyung’s ass, tips hitting just over his inner thighs and Taehyung’s voice goes high, lovely, rich.

Yoongi brings the flogger down again, the noise it makes against Taehyung’s bruised skin going straight to his dick. “Fucking painslut, moaning like a bitch in—”

Taehyung tenses and then he’s coming. His dick jerks, untouched, and spills weakly down his length, his orgasm cut short and ruined when Yoongi immediately grabs hard to squeeze behind his balls.

“No, please,” Taehyung sobs, squirming on the bench. “Sorry, I’m sorry, please, lemme—”

Yoongi snorts, heart beating hard and satisfaction coiling low in his gut. “You came? Just ‘cause I told you you’re a slut?”

Taehyung whines, shoulders rising like he wants to hide his face under his arms. All that does is make him strain against the cuffs.

“That’s what made you come, isn’t it?” Yoongi rolls his head, neck stiff. “Came untouched without permission ‘cause you’re a painslut.”

“Hyung, ‘m sorry,” Taehyung whispers, and his words are a bit slurred, clumsy. “I just—”

“I want you to say it.” Yoongi rests a hand firmly over Taehyung’s hip. “Tell me why you came.”

Taehyung shivers, a whimper caught in his throat. After a few moments, voice small, he says, “Came ‘cause hyung called me a slut.”

“That’s right.” Yoongi wets his lips, looking between Taehyung’s legs. He’s still hard, but Yoongi’s sure that if he were to touch his cock again he’d be too sensitive and come too quickly again. 

Well, it was about time they moved to the next part anyway. 

When Yoongi pulls the plug out again, this time fully, Taehyung makes this desperate cry at feeling empty and it sounds so good, so lewd, Yoongi is almost tempted to get on his knees and eat him out. 

Honestly, his resolve is getting tested every time he has a scene with Taehyung.

He turns the plug off and puts it away. Instead, from the bag he grabs a bigger one. This one won’t vibrate, but it’s girthy, and it’s heavy, and the moment he starts pushing the curved, blunt tip inside his hole, Taehyung is a goner, moaning and gasping as he gets filled up again inch by inch, lube gushing out. Once the toy is swallowed whole, Taehyung is shaking, moans short and high, his cock leaking with a thin string of precome.

“Good boy,” Yoongi murmurs as he sets the flogger down on the table and then walks around the bench to stand in front of Taehyung. “All stretched open.”

Then he grabs Taehyung’s collar again, hooking two fingers at the front to pull and force Taehyung’s head up. 

And, fuck, Taehyung just blinks at him, gaze heavy and dazed, lips parted around rough breaths, looking so fucked out and they barely started. 

“Color, Tae?”

“Green,” Taehyung whispers, blinking tears away, face flushed red and hair sticking to his forehead, damp with sweat. “F-feel good. I think—” His eyes flutter closed as he shudders. “So-so big, I think ‘m close again.”

Yoongi arches an eyebrow, and he’s so aroused right now it fucking hurts. “So soon?”

“I don’t—” Taehyung frowns. “Can’t stop.”

Yoongi hums, holding onto the collar firmly. “If you hold back, hyung will give you a reward.”

“Reward?”

“A big one.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, face slack with realization. “I’ll hold back,” he replies with a thin voice. “I’ll be-be so good. Just—hyung, please, can I have more?”

“More?” Yoongi questions and he rubs his thumb under Taehyung’s chin. “More of what?” 

“The—the flogger. ‘s just—” He blinks, frowning for a moment like he can’t quite get the words right. “Feeling light again. Want it.” 

Yoongi’s fingers tighten around the collar, a thrill of deep satisfaction shooting through him. To know that Taehyung is feeling it this much despite the unfamiliar location and the overwhelming experience in the club fills Yoongi with a sick twist of pride and arousal. 

He asks, “You wanna go under, pretty?”

Taehyung nods eagerly, the movement a bit clumsy with how Yoongi’s holding the collar. But that’s a good enough response. 

Softly, Yoongi rubs on Taehyung’s bottom lip for a moment before letting go of the collar to go set in position again behind Taehyung. 

He steadies his grip on the flogger’s handle, eyeing the red stripes of faint bruises all over Taehyung’s ass and thighs, slick with the lube that trailed down. He lands a quick, harsh slap on Taehyung’s asscheek before he strikes him in the same spot with the flogger’s tails. Hard, fast, two times, enough for it to hurt and for Taehyung to melt into it before he’s flicking his wrists again in fluid, quick motions. The tips drag on the sensitive skin over and over, and he starts switching from lighter strikes to harsher ones, changing the angle here and there, aiming down his inner thighs before going back up again.

Taehyung takes it all with short, breathy moans that get louder and louder with each strike, with each change of rhythm, voice breaking when the tails slap down the skin, and then softer when it’s just the leather tips. 

He takes breaks from time to time, both to give Taehyung a breather and to relax his arm. In those times of pause, Yoongi reaches for the plug to push at it and change the angle, tugging at it slightly to watch Taehyung’s hole stretch around it and to hear Taehyung cry out. 

“So soft,” Yoongi groans, staring at the way Taehyung’s hole sucks the toy back in. “Bet I could fit my finger in too.”

Taehyung whimpers when Yoongi gives his cock a few quick, tight strokes, precome smearing over his length, hard and flushed. 

By the time Yoongi starts flogging him again, Taehyung sounds wrecked. The mix of pain and lingering pleasure has him shaking with it, straining against the leather restraints and bowing over the bench, hips jerking constantly; he’s lost control over how his body moves, can’t stop the way his muscles tighten, his hole clenching around the heavy plug that must be hitting a good spot if the high, punched out moans are anything to go by. 

Yoongi knows that Taehyung has gone under now, lost in the sensations and high of the burn of pain and pleasure.

Eventually, Yoongi stops. His breath is short and quick, his arm sore, and Taehyung’s skin is beautifully marked up and bruised.

Putting the flog away, he looks towards the window. “Color.”

“Green,” Taehyung pants, his reply a bit slower now. 

Yoongi hums and he starts walking around the bench, to stand in front of Taehyung. “Good, ‘cause you have an audience.”

Indeed, there are shadows moving behind the tinted glass, faceless somebodies that might have been watching for who knows how long. 

Yoongi looks at Taehyung, searching for his reaction. He might have agreed to this earlier, choosing this when he had been given the different options for rooms to rent, but during a scene things change and, if needed, Yoongi will go and close the window in an instant.

But—well, it seems that won’t be a problem. 

Taehyung is moaning under his breath, something quiet and almost reserved, but his hips have started thrusting, likely to clench around the toy, to feel it move inside.

“Oh?” Yoongi grins, fingers twitching by his sides. “Putting on a show?”

Taehyung doesn’t answer. He rests his cheeks on the leather cushion and stares at Yoongi with a sultry, dazed look, pretty mouth bit red. 

Distantly, Yoongi wonders if Taehyung is aware of how lewd he looks now, and of how hard he’s making it for Yoongi to hold back and not take him right here, fuck him in front of—

Shit.

Yoongi shakes his head, rolling his shoulders. He needs to get a fucking grip, this has been happening too many times.

“You’ve been good,” he says after a few moments. “Want your reward?”

Taehyung’s breath hitches. “Please.”

It’s been a long time since Yoongi used a fucking-machine. One of his subs used to be obsessed with it, and would beg Yoongi to strap him down and leave him at the machine’s mercy until he was screaming, milked dry and fucked out.

Honestly, Yoongi would never buy one. The good ones are not only ridiculously expensive but take up a lot of space and are difficult to maneuver in a small room. It’s a good thing, then, that the club likes to spend its money on good tools and equipment. 

It’s a bit of an awkward thing to drag the big machine behind the bench and to line it up correctly behind Taehyung, but he makes quick work of it. 

He squelches a very generous amount of lube over the thick, girthy silicone dildo, slicking it up with his hand. And this thing is big, long, will fill Taehyung up just the way he loves it. Knowing that, soon, he’ll get to see it fuck into Taehyung’s hole makes Yoongi’s cock twitch and he’s so hard now that it’s fucking distracting him.

Carefully, Yoongi removes the plug and, as soon as that happens, Taehyung starts whining and writhing, clenching around nothing. Yoongi lands a hard slap over his bruised thigh and snaps, “Stop being a greedy fucking slut for a second.”

“‘m sorry,” Taehyung gasps, going tight the moment Yoongi fucks two fingers inside him. 

“Behave. You’re gonna be full again soon enough.” 

He turns on the machine, and he’s silently thankful that it’s not as loud as he feared. It whirrs for a moment but then settles into a sort of hum as the metal neck starts moving, dildo pressing forward at the slowest setting. Yoongi guides the toy with his hand, the round, curved tip catching on Taehyung’s rim and sliding in slowly, inch by inch.

“Haah, god—” Taehyung goes boneless over the bench, and moans a choked, ragged cry the deeper the dildo fucks into him. When it starts pulling back, Taehyung’s ass goes impossibly tight around it, lube dripping down. 

“Fucking hell,” Yoongi hisses and he rubs his thumb around Taehyung’s ass. “Taking it so well, such a good hole you are.” 

Taehyung sighs, cock twitching where it hangs between his legs, and Yoongi wonders just how long Taehyung will be able to hold back when he’s this deeply into subspace. 

Yoongi waits for him to adjust to the girth and length of the dildo before reaching for the machine, watching the toy fuck into Taehyung slow and steady, but the slide is smoother now. He reaches for the machine’s controls and sets it on automatic mode; it will gain speed on its own gradually, but for now, it stays at its slowest pace.  

Walking around the bench, Yoongi looks at the window again, where he can make out three shadows.

Lucky bastards. 

Once he’s standing in front of Taehyung again, Yoongi can’t help the breathless laugh that escapes him.

“Look at this,” he chuckles as Taehyung lays on the bench, fucked out and moaning quiet, short cries. “You’re fucking drooling for it?” He swipes his thumb over Taehyung’s chin, collecting the drool and pushing it back into Taehyung’s mouth.

Immediately, Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed and he moans around Yoongi’s finger, sucking around it.

God, he looks so gone. All pretty and sweaty, flushed a gorgeous color and suckling on Yoongi’s fingers, happily taking two more in his mouth, tongue lapping at them, getting them nice and wet.

Behind him, the dildo starts fucking into him deeper, the pace picking up but still it’s slow enough that Taehyung’s forced to feel every inch of it as it slides in, and out. Taehyung groans, teeth nipping at Yoongi’s fingers.

“What? One hole getting fucked open isn’t enough for you?” He pushes his fingers deeper, and Taehyung whines around them. Yoongi breathes in and feels his cock throb. “Want more?” 

That snaps Taehyung out of his daze. His eyes follow Yoongi’s movements when he reaches for the first button of his slacks and, with a whisper, he says, “Want it.”

Yoongi exhales, shuddery, hot. Taehyung looks at Yoongi as he pulls his cock out, hard and neglected, and he makes a noise like he’s desperate for it. 

Yoongi grabs the collar again, free hand wrapped around his length, and Taehyung goes easily when he pulls at the leather around his neck. Without a word, Taehyung opens his mouth, tongue out. 

“Good slut,” Yoongi groans and starts, slowly, pushing his cock past the ring of Taehyung’s slick lips. 

Taehyung hums around it, lips wrapping around the head to suck at it, and he closes his eyes when Yoongi pushes deeper, swallowing him down with a deep moan, like he’s fucking savoring it like he had been waiting to feel the weight of it on his tongue.

Yoongi moans, eyes closed and decides to enjoy this for a bit. His head lolls back, fingers tight around Taehyung’s collar as he fucks into his mouth in slow, measured thrusts, deeper with each push. 

It feels good, it feels fucking perfect. Taehyung sucks cock like he loves it, cheeks hollowed out and jaw lax, tongue laving at the skin, at the tip when Yoongi pulls back, messy with it, drool under his chin, Yoongi’s cock slick with it when he thrusts back in.

Yoongi still has enough self-control to keep his pace slow, to match the one of the fucking-machine. But when the dildo starts fucking into Taehyung’s faster, punching a muffled moan out of him that just vibrated around Yoongi’s dick, that gets thrown out of the window and Yoongi finds himself snapping his hips faster. 

“Isn’t it fun?” He bites out, pulling back until Taehyung’s lips are wrapped tight around his cockhead. “You’re getting both your holes fucked while strangers look at you.” Taehyung shudders, staring at Yoongi like he’s barely seeing him. “But technically you’re still a virgin.”

That seems to hit somewhere good, somewhere that burns with shame, because Taehyung whines and shuts his eyes closed, cheeks blushing red with humiliation. Behind him, the machine picks up a faster pace, and now Taehyung’s getting fucked earnestly, jostled slightly over the bench. 

“Never took a real cock, but will gladly let strangers watch him get pounded.” Yoongi swallows, lungs tight. He pushes his cock deep, deep enough that Taehyung gags for a moment before his throat eases, tight and so hot Yoongi feels like he’s going to melt. “Fuck, like that, here—” Yoongi crooks his fingers from under the collar to press against Taehyung’s throat. “I can fucking feel it, Taehyung.”

Taehyung’s wrists strain against the cuffs, fingers clenched tight, but the noises he’s making are rich with arousal, trembling and muffled around the cock in his mouth, pushing past his throat, nose brushing against Yoongi’s pube.

“Bet those people are getting off to this,” Yoongi hisses, hips snapping, thrusts unforgiving. “Bet you got them so horny they couldn’t help it.”

There’s a sob that wrecks through Taehyung, but that too morphs into something drawn out and overwhelmed, the dildo now fucking into him at a harsh speed, relentless and fluid. Taehyung stopped resisting altogether and has gone boneless again, he likely wouldn’t even be able to keep his head up if it wasn’t for the hold Yoongi has on the collar.

And—it’s not like Yoongi isn’t into being watched, he likes it just as much as the next kinky bastard, but tonight he’s almost drowning with possessiveness. These fucking strangers get to see this; they get to see Taehyung, his submissive, in a state as vulnerable as this, completely lost to pleasure, do they know how goddamn lucky they are that Yoongi hasn’t shut the window closed yet? ‘Cause it’s a wish that’s plaguing him right now, he’d want nothing more than walk over there and cut the show short, so that he can have Taehyung to himself, so that he can ruin him properly, just for his eyes.

Is it the collar that’s messing with him? It did a number on him, that’s for sure. From the moment he clasped it around Taehyung’s neck, back in his apartment, his resolve has been tested. 

But he holds back. Reminds himself that this isn’t about him, it’s about Taehyung. About what he wants, what he likes, and wishes to explore. So—the windows stay open for now.

He decides to focus on Taehyung instead of the prying eyes behind that tinted glass. By now there is an audible whirring noise coming from the machine, but Taehyung’s moans drown it out. 

“Choking on dick and still being so damn loud,” Yoongi grunts, fucking into Taehyung’s mouth hard, deep. He won’t last much longer, has been too worked up for too long. “Fuck, gonna come—”

Taehyung’s eyes open, lidded and dark, and he makes it a point to suck harder around Yoongi’s cock.

“Greedy.” Yoongi’s hips stutter, pleasure coiling, burning. “Fucking take it then.”

He thrusts into Taehyung’s mouth once, twice before he’s burying himself deep, coming down Taehyung’s throat with a moan. Around him, Taehyung’s throat closes as he swallows, jaw slack and breaths coming out in ragged puffs against Yoongi’s abdomen. 

He pulls out once the high wears off, cock slipping out of Taehyung’s mouth with a wet noise, drool and cum dripping down Taehyung’s chin as he whines and gasps. 

“Messy,” Yoongi muses and he rubs at the cum, and feeds it back between Taehyung’s swollen lips. “Pretty, though.”

Taehyung just groans and sucks clumsily, lapping at his fingers when he pulls them out. He seems to be far too distracted by the dildo fucking into him to really do a good job at cleaning them though; the machine is close to reaching its fastest setting, the dildo fucking into Taehyung at a pace that must be brutal, agonizing if the way Taehyung’s crying and shaking is anything to go by, so gone that he’s not even trying to control his voice, cries and moans loud and hoarse, a garbled wet mess. 

Yoongi tucks his cock back in his briefs, fixes his trousers on again, and walks around the bench to look at the dildo thrusting in and out of Taehyung. His hole stretches around the curved tip whenever the dildo pulls back, only to fuck right back inside before it can slip out, and it’s a mess of slick lube and sweat, thighs trembling hard, skin flushed a lovely color. 

Yoongi grabs a handful of Taehyung’s ass and spreads his cheeks apart. Taehyung writhes, a sob punched out of him with the change of angle, and his hips start jerking uncontrollably.

“W-wanna—ah, ah—wanna come—hnng—p-please, lemme come,” Taehyung cries out, stuttering and choking on his own breath. With each hard, relentless thrust, his body gets jostled up, cock jumping, hard and stiff and leaking between his legs. “Hyun’—” He whimpers, shivers. “Help-help me, wanna come!”

Yoongi breathes out, his hands trembling where they hold Taehyung’s ass open. “Want me to touch you?”

Taehyung moans, relief thick in his voice. “Yeah—ah—y-yes, touch me.”

Yoongi lifts his arm and brings his palm down, to slap hard over the bruised skin. The noise Taehyung makes at that, when he ends up clenching around the dildo, is so beyond indecent that Yoongi nearly laughs when he says, “Beg.”

“Oh, fuck, please,” he sobs, hips shaking, the toy fucking into him deep and hard. “Hyung, touch me please I-I can’t—please, please, ‘m beggin’, I wanna c-come, hurts, it hurts!” But he’s moaning, and his voice is the most erotic and fucked out it ever sounded. “Going c-crazy, please!”

Yoongi reaches between his legs, takes Taehyung’s cock in his hand, and strokes him tight, fast, fingers closing around the head, where he’s so wet it squelches-- then Taehyung is wailing, his entire body seizing up, back a tight bow before he’s coming, spilling hard into Yoongi’s fist, down on the floor, his voice caught between moans and sobs as he finally gets his pleasure to snap and flood him.

Yoongi lets him ride the high, stroking him through it, but he’s quick to turn off the machine. The dildo immediately starts slowing down, until it’s carefully sliding out of Taehyung’s hole. Lube comes gushing out, hole fluttering, loose and fucked out, and Taehyung’s legs must give out at one point, the only thing holding them in place are the straps.

“Good, Tae,” Yoongi croons, stroking soothingly up his back. “You’ve been so good. I’m right here in the room, I’ll be right back, yes?”

Taehyung hums, low and barely there, and even while Yoongi walks in fast strides towards the window he can hear him still letting out some quiet moans, like pleasure hasn’t quite left him yet.

Past the tinted glass, Yoongi can still see shadows and he’s vaguely aware that he must be glaring. Apparently, he’s just found out a new limit of his today: there’s no way he’ll let strangers watch him take care of Taehyung after a scene. That stays his.

“Show’s over,” he says, loud enough so that he’s sure they heard him past the glass, then he grabs the window’s panel and shuts it closed.

Back at the bench, Taehyung lays limp over the bench, eyes closed and breaths slow and deep. Still, he’s conscious: he stirs lightly when Yoongi undoes the cuffs at his wrists and Yoongi shushes him softly. “You’re alright. Hyung’s gonna take care of you now.”

Taehyung eases again, letting out a sigh. 

The cleaning process is a bit awkward given the absence of a shower or running water in the room. But Yoongi came prepared, and once the leather straps are all off he wipes Taehyung with the wipes he brought, being particularly careful around the more sensitive areas. Taehyung is either too fucked out or too tired to put up a fuss thankfully, so he just rests on the bench and lets Yoongi work.

When it’s time to get off the bench, though, Taehyung’s legs wobble and he ends up fully pressed against Yoongi, murmuring apologies under his breath while Yoongi helps him to the couch. Yoongi brings the bag there, pulls out a folded blanket he brought from home, and wraps Taehyung under it where he’s curled on the sofa. He also somehow manages to coax him into eating a piece of chocolate while he takes care of—well, the state of the floor.

It’s an unspoken rule that patrons should at least wipe the floors, and a mop and cleaning supplies are always available inside the wardrobe. His fault for not remembering to put a condom on Taehyung. 

Once that is all done, though (at lighting fucking speed) Yoongi hurries back to the couch. A bit of maneuvering has Taehyung curled against him, legs over his lap while he applies a soothing lotion to Taehyung’s heated, bruised skin. 

He’s still under, that much is obvious. Through the whole process, Taehyung doesn’t say a word, happy to just nuzzle into the crook of Yoongi’s neck, occasionally pressing light, mindless kisses to the exposed skin of his shoulder. Yoongi lets him, glad that Taehyung seems to be relaxed enough to let him take care of him comfortably.

Once he’s done with the lotion, Yoongi drops it back inside the bag and leans back, wrapping an arm around Taehyung’s back, fingers lazily playing with the leather collar.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi asks very quietly when Taehyung shifts into a more comfortable position, still curled against him. “Was it too much?”

Honestly, this might have been their most intense scene yet. The fact that Taehyung is still not out of his subspace is proof of it. 

“No,” Taehyung murmurs after a moment, his voice audibly wrecked. “‘s perfect. Just wanna stay like this.”

Yoongi nods, thumb pressing circles into Taehyung’s nape, just beneath the collar. “Of course. As long as you need.” 

“I really liked it.” Taehyung sighs, almost dreamily. “‘t was so good. I like everything hyung does. Always feels good. Thank you for—” he pauses, nosing at Yoongi’s neck. “For always making it so good.”

Something close to the ache of a cut stings harsh and hot in Yoongi’s chest at this. 

Without realizing it, he’s holding Taehyung tighter, breathing him in, the rush of blood like an echo in his ears.

He shouldn’t be thanked for this. This is what he’s here for: to make Taehyung feel good, the way he deserves, the way he hasn’t been able to feel for years.

But before he can say that, Taehyung sighs again and murmurs, “I like you so much, hyung.”

Yoongi holds his breath. 

Then, he exhales and wills himself to relax again.

Taehyung is under. Lost in the afterglow, dealing with the drop of endorphins. He doesn’t mean it like that. He doesn’t and it would be a problem if he did, right?

Right.

It’s all good.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything else, and neither does Taehyung.

╭─────╮

Taehyung’s legs are fucked.

That’s really the only way to put it.

As they make their way out of the club, now a lot less lively than before, and then out into the parking lot Taehyung is genuinely impressed with himself for being able to walk straight.

But, fuck, he feels good. Great, even.

In the cold of the night, Taehyung has to hide a stupid grin under his scarf. Today’s scene really ended up scratching an itch, and he hasn’t felt this light and sated in ages.

Yoongi unlocks the car and opens the door for Taehyung, who all but sinks into the passenger’s seat. Immediately, he regrets it and hisses loudly.

“What?” Yoongi asks, eyes wide. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m good,” Taehyung squeaks. “Promise.”

Yoongi eyes him for a bit, but then closes the door and starts walking around the car. 

Taehyung lets out a long breath and tries to find a sitting position that isn’t hell on his ass because damn he’s sore everywhere. Which is good. He loves it. 

Yoongi gets in the car, throws the bag on the backseat, then starts the engine.

“Sure you’re okay?” Yoongi asks as he drives the car out of the parking lot and into the main street. 

“Just sore,” Taehyung replies, then quickly adds, “Good sore! Great sore! If that makes sense.”

Yoongi snorts and if Taehyung’s heart jumps that’s his problem. “Makes sense, yes.” They stop at a red light. “If you want to close your eyes and rest for a bit you can, it’s a bit of a drive to your house.”

“I’m fine.” Taehyung grabs his phone then, having forgotten about it and Jungkook entirely. “I’m just gonna text—”

He is met with a flood of texts and, with a grimace, Taehyung starts going through them.

JK

Heyyy Joon and I will grab drinks

if u wanna join

btw did I tell u your dom looks hot

like, hot in a “looks like a cinnamon roll

could kill you” kinda way

must be the eyes

broad fucking shoulders tho u were right

ok where are u

looked in the toilets ur not there either???

OH

OH U NASTY WHORE

GET IT HYUNG GET IT

HOPE U COME SO HARD U FORGET UR NAME

“I’ll murder him tomorrow,” Taehyung mutters, glaring at his screen.

“Who?”

“Nothing.” He pockets the phone and clears his throat. 

For a while, they drive in silence and Taehyung spends a good portion of it just stealing glances at Yoongi. 

It’s Yoongi who speaks first, “My week’s packed full with work, I might not have time to fit a scene in.”

“Oh. Actually, that works fine.” Taehyung nods to himself. “I meant to tell you this but I got—distracted.”

“You sure did.”

“What did I say about teasing me?”

“Right, sorry.”

“We’re down the last stretch with rehearsals, so we’re basically gonna be spending the next three weeks living in that damn theater.” He sighs. “I genuinely won’t have a free moment.”

Yoongi stays silent for a while. Then, he says, “Three weeks?”

“Yeah.”

“Mh.”

Grinning, Taehyung says, “Try not to miss me too much.”

Yoongi doesn’t laugh. He smiles and glances at Taehyung before focusing on the road again. “I make no promises.”

Oh.

Taehyung looks away and silently thanks the darkness of the car for hiding what must be a spectacular blush. 

“I’ll prepare a scene for when you’ll be free then,” Yoongi says. “Not as intense as this, though. It was your first time with something this taxing on your body, and it’s good to even things out. But it seems you liked it, so I’ll keep it in mind for future plays.”

“I think—I’m gonna be so honest right now—I think I really do enjoy heavier, err,” Taehyung swallows past the embarrassment. “Heavier restraints.”

Again, Yoongi snorts. “I could tell.”

“Hyung.”

“I think you also enjoy having your limits pushed. You like seeing how much you can take.” Yoongi looks at him for a moment. “We can move towards lengthier scenes, heavier restraints, and different tools. You liked the flogger, and there are so many different types of impact play we haven’t tried yet. I’ll come up with some ideas, and if anything crosses your mind you can text me about them.”

“Thank you. And yeah, I’ll text you if I think of something.”

From there on the drive is quiet and, soon enough, Yoongi stops the car by the curb close to Taehyung’s flat.

“Want me to walk you?” Yoongi asks as Taehyung takes off his seatbelt.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. Ah! I almost forgot.” Taehyung stuffs his hand into the inner pocket of his coat and pulls out an envelope. “For tonight.”

Yoongi looks at the envelope. There was a faint smile tugging at his lips before and Taehyung watches as it slowly disappears. He doesn’t take the envelope. Just stares at it.

Taehyung frowns. “Hyung?”

“Right.” Yoongi shakes his head and takes the envelope, stuffing it in the pocket of his jacket quickly. “Thank you. I’ll text you once I have the scene planned out.”

“Okay.”

“I’ll wait for you to get in.” Yoongi smiles again, but it’s—not really there. “Have a good night, Tae. And don’t forget to take care of the bruising.”

It’s only once he’s done showering that Taehyung realizes just how exhausted he is. It all crashes down on him as he drags himself into his bedroom, the tips of his hair still damp ‘cause he couldn’t even dry them properly with how sore his arms felt. 

He takes off his bathrobe, letting it drop on the floor without a care. His collar rests inside its box on top of the drawer, and taking that off had left him feeling disappointed and like he was missing an integral part of his limbs. Which is stupid, and he’s gonna get over it, but whatever.

He turns around to find some underwear and pajamas to wear but then he catches his reflection in the full-length mirror in the corner of the room. 

“Oh,” he breathes out, eyes wide as he stares at himself.

Slowly, Taehyung brings his hand to the marks on his chest. The ones Yoongi gave him. Left with his mouth, with his teeth. There’s—a lot. All over. Nowhere he can’t cover with clothes, all in safe areas of his chest. 

He presses one with his thumb and hisses at the dull ache of it. 

He does it again. Moves to another one, and another one still, probing and stroking them. 

“Fuck.” He’s getting hard again. He had the strongest orgasm of his life not even an hour again, got fucked within an inch of his life and he’s hard again just because he touched some bruises.

Still, he can’t help it. 

He ends up bent over his bed, knees scraping over the carpet while he blindly fucks into his own fist he’s too sensitive, too raw, ends up whimpering and muffling cries into his comforter while his free hand presses at the bite marks around his nipple, and it hurts, it makes him shudder, it reminds him who left those bruises there. 

He comes too fast and too weakly, spilling on the floor and on his fist, moaning Yoongi’s name, wishing he wasn’t so goddamn stupid.

Bottling his feelings? There’s no way he can do that.

He’s so in love he doesn’t know what to do with it.

Chapter Text

Namjoon is not an idiot.

He can count on one hand the number of times he acted like one. In fact, he’s pretty sure the last time was from before he and Jungkook got together. Back then he was so obsessed with his infatuation with Jungkook that he behaved unprofessionally as a hired dom. But that was then, and now is now. 

And now he’s not an idiot. Most times.

That’s why, as he’s sitting in Yoongi’s house (his actual home, not the rented apartment that Yoongi adamantly refuses to show him) he can smell the bullshit from a mile away.

“So,” he starts saying while watching as Yoongi walks around the kitchen to grab two glasses. “About Taehyung.”

Yoongi hums, looking at him for a second. “What about him?”

Namjoon shrugs. “He seemed nice.”

“That’s ‘cause he is.”

“Pretty.”

Yoongi turns around with a frown. “Okay?”

“Very pretty.”

The frown deepens. “Are you asking for a threesome? Because no, I’ll never share a scene with you again—”

“Don’t even fucking go there, that day lives in my mind like a nightmare and we need to forget about it. And obviously, I’m not asking for—I’m in a perfect relationship.” A pause. “That being said, Jungkook keeps hinting about being interested in a threesome.”

Yoongi snorts and puts the glasses on the table before going back to the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. “Good luck with that.”

“If he’s fine with sharing, then I guess I should be too.”

“How very mature of you.” Yoongi sits down and fills the glasses with water. “Then why are you asking about Taehyung?”

Namjoon shrugs again. “I’m just saying, he’s nice. And attractive. You always liked nice people.”

The confusion comes back on Yoongi’s face. “What are you even on about?”

“He’s your type, is what I’m getting at. Totally your type.” Namjoon clears his throat, fingers tapping on the table. You kind of have to go slowly with Yoongi, or else he gets defensive. “So I was just wondering if you—well. If there was something else going on.”

“Something else,” Yoongi repeats, enunciating the words slowly. His face is blank if not for the minute narrowing of his eyes. 

“Something that goes—past the dom and sub contract you two have going on.”

Yoongi stares at him. “Like what?”

“Oh for fuck—hyung, you like him, don’t you?”

For a moment, Yoongi doesn’t react much. In the end, he just looks very confused. Again. “Obviously I like him? I wouldn’t have gotten into a contract with him otherwise.”

Namjoon feels his left eye twitch. 

This is starting to get frustrating.

“Let’s try this again,” he sighs, shifting on the chair. “And I’ll be more blunt. I saw how you acted around him at the club. I saw how you treated him.” He looks pointedly at Yoongi. “I saw how you look at him, hyung.”

Yoongi doesn’t speak for a good while. Then he asks, “Are you on drugs?”

Namjoon takes a deep breath. Then he also takes a deep gulp of water, because he swears he’s about to start sweating out of nerves. “You’re so dumb for being one of the smartest people I know.”

“That’s just mean.”

“Hyung, you’re obviously into him,” Namjoon exclaims, exasperated. ”You don’t just like him, you’re—I don’t know, infatuated?”

At this, Yoongi’s expression does change, going from confusion to just straight-up disbelief. “What—Joon-ah, what are you talking about?”

Screw the baby steps, Namjoon’s going all in. “I’m saying you have feelings for him.”

“Right.” Yoongi squints his eyes. “And you are absolutely sure you’re not high off something.”

“Hyung, this is serious!”

“For you, it clearly is.” He shakes his head with a smile, arms crossed over his chest. Namjoon almost wants to strangle him. “Look, I get where you’re coming from and I see how you could think that. I’m not gonna lie, I know I got fond of him more than I usually do with my subs, but to go as far as saying—”

“You bought him a collar!”

“He asked me to.”

“Hyung, you fucking bugged me about that damn thing for a week!”

“That’s just not true.”

“You called me at 3 in the morning once to ask me for advice on which one looked better between seven fucking collars!” Namjoon breathes in, holding up his hands. He needs to calm down before he busts an artery, his blood pressure is skyrocketing. 

“I don’t see how this means I’m in love with him.”

“That’s not—” Hold the fuck up. “What did you just say?”

Yoongi groans, a hand rubbing all over his face. “What?”

“I never said you’re in love with him.”

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something and then just stays silent. Namjoon watches him blink twice and then stare at the table with a light frown. 

Oh?

“Hyung,” Namjoon tries for a more gentle approach this time. “Are you falling for him?”

“No,” Yoongi replies immediately, still stubbornly focused on the table.

“It’s not a bad thing, you know? It’s been ages since you last had feelings for anyone, and I get that—you might be hesitating because of the contract, but—”

“Namjoon.” Yoongi looks him straight in the eyes and, just by the hard set of his jaw, Namjoon knows he’s lost this battle. “I don’t have feelings for Taehyung. I care about him, more than I might have cared for other subs I worked with, but that’s it. And I’d appreciate it if you dropped the subject.”

With a sigh, Namjoon leans back in his chair and nods. “Alright. I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not, and you’re fine. Don’t worry about it.” Yoongi straightens up. “Now, are we gonna talk about work or what?”

On the way back to his house, Namjoon just feels exhausted.

When it comes to other people’s lives, Yoongi has always been extremely attentive and sharp, and at the same time, he’s painfully oblivious when it comes to his own feelings.

Well. He tried. 

Opening the door of his apartment, Namjoon lets out a long sigh and drops his bag on the floor. Then he frowns, noticing that the lights are on, and he’s sure he turned them off when he left, so—

“Jungkook?” He calls, taking off his shoes. “You’re here?”

After a few moments, Jungkook appears from the corridor that leads to the bathroom, clad in a large bathrobe. “Hyung!”

“When did you get here?” Namjoon asks and walks deeper into the house, stopping when Jungkook meets him halfway to press a kiss to his mouth. 

“An hour ago.” He grins wide, eyes bright. His hair is still damp, and it curls over his brows and down his nape. “How did it go?”

Namjoon shakes his head while tucking a strand of wet hair behind Jungkook’s ear. “He needs some more time.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. He’s fidgety where he stands, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, cheeks flushed. 

“Are you okay?” Namjoon asks, looking at him.

“Yeah, I’m great, just annoyed.”

“Yoongi’s always been like this. I’m sure that, with time, he’ll figure himself out and do something about it.”

Jungkook swallows and his eyes travel down to Namjoon’s mouth. “Uh-huh.”

“They’ll be fine, I’m sure that—” Namjoon frowns. “What’s this noise?”

“Noise?” Jungkook blinks, but his lips twitch into an almost smile.

“Like—” Seriously, what is that? “Buzzing.”

Jungkook wets his lips, fingers playing with the belt at Namjoon’s waist. “Yeah, I wonder what that is.”

Oh.

Namjoon’s hands squeeze where they rest over Jungkook’s hips. “What were you doing, huh?”

“You were taking too long,” Jungkook says with a grin, and his fingers now drag down over Namjoon’s crotch. “So I was just gonna take care of myself without you.”

Namjoon breathes in. This fucking brat. “That’s breaking the rules, is it not?”

“Is it?” Jungkook widens his eyes innocently. “Ah, what can we do, Joon-hyung? I’m just so stupid, I keep forgetting the rules.”

Namjoon hums, hands fitting under Jungkook’s bathrobe to stroke over warm, soft skin. He reaches behind Jungkook’s back and then down, to his ass to knead roughly at it. Jungkook gasps, stumbling forward until he’s pressed against him.

“‘s that so?” Namjoon’s fingers press between Jungkook’s asscheeks until they meet the round, vibrating base of a plug. He pushes it in deeper and watches Jungkook’s eyes close, his lips part into a soundless moan. “I guess I’ll just have to remind you.”

Jungkook nods eagerly, dropping to his knees in front of Namjoon before he opens his mouth, tongue out.

Namjoon will worry about Yoongi’s love life another time. 

╭─────╮

Yoongi sets two mugs on the table while, behind him on the counter, the tea is brewing in the kettle.

He checks the time on his phone, and sees it’s almost five—Taehyung will be here soon, never late nor early.

Yoongi feels—excited is not the right word, maybe, but he’s been looking forward to today. It’s been three weeks since he last saw Taehyung, after the scene at the club and, he’s not going to lie, he’s missed this. 

The last scene had been perfect, and he replayed it in his mind more times than he cares to admit, and each time has ended with him jerking off to the image of Taehyung strapped to that bench, fucked hard and deep, his mouth stretched around Yoongi’s cock— each time also left him even more hungry for it instead of sated.

Yoongi shakes the thought off his head. He can’t delve too much into the memories of that night unless he wants to get horny far too early. 

Once Taehyung arrives, he flashes Yoongi with a bright smile as he walks inside. “Hi.”

“Hello.” Yoongi closes the door while Taehyung takes off his coat. “It’s been a while.”

“I’ve worked non-stop,” Taehyung sighs, but the smile is still there. “Have you been busy as well?”

“Very.” They move into the kitchen and sit at the table. Yoongi already filled the cups, and the tea has cooled down enough that it doesn’t burn too hot when he takes his first sip. “Have you had time to read through the scene?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung rubs his lips together. “Last time you said we’d do something less intense, but on paper it doesn’t seem that mild.”

Yoongi grins. “It’ll be if you behave.”

“You just like it when I struggle.”

“You like struggling too.” Yoongi shrugs. “Think of it as training for your stamina.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes, but Yoongi can see him holding back a smile. “You always say my body’s too sensitive, but then you always tease me until—” He stops talking and clears his throat. There’s a light blush on his cheeks.

“That’s why I do it,” Yoongi says. “What’s the fun in edging someone who’s not as sensitive as you are.”

Taehyung scoffs and drinks more of his tea. “Ass.”

“Use your colors right, be good, and I won’t be too mean.”

“I’ll go get ready then.” Taehyung stands up, but just before he’s about to head into the bedroom he stops and walks back. He takes his bag, an old leather thing that looks like it might have been thrifted with the way the material has softened over time. From it, he pulls out the collar’s box and places it on the table in front of Yoongi without a word before springing back to the bedroom. 

Left alone, Yoongi opens the box and looks at the collar for a few moments. He strokes over the rim of the leather with one finger and smiles, chest warm.

In the room, Yoongi rests the collar and its cuffs over the bed, next to the fine chain links and a smaller, still closed box. 

Taehyung walks out of the bathroom at that moment, the robe hanging loose on his chest. 

“Sit here,” Yoongi says, pointing at the bed. 

Taehyung listens immediately, sitting on the mattress, hands over his lap, eyes tracking Yoongi’s movements when he takes the collar in his hands.

Yoongi holds back a pleased smile when, as soon as he stands in front of Taehyung, he subtly cranes his neck to allow more access to him. Carefully, Yoongi secures the collar around Taehyung’s neck, fastening the clasps on the back and smoothing his fingers over the leather. Taehyung breathes out, blinking at him slowly. 

“Hands too today, yes?”

“Yes,” Taehyung answers quietly, and he lifts up his wrists.

The cuffs are the same rich and deep color, thick and secure but with good padding on the inside. As much as Yoongi has been having thoughts about seeing Taehyung’s wrists all marked up with ropes and tighter cuffs, he’s well aware that bruises like those would be too obvious in a spot so easily visible. So these will do.

Without a word, Yoongi first pulls at the silken belt at Taehyung’s waist until it comes loose, and the robe falls down his shoulders. Taehyung seems to catch his train of thought with one look at the fine chain that links to one of the cuffs, so he pulls his arms out of his sleeves and offers his wrists once more.

Yoongi feeds the chain into the metal ring at the base of Taehyung’s collar and then links the chain to the second cuff. Taehyung’s left hand goes into the loosened cuff first, and he tightens the straps on it with a firm tug. “Too tight?” He asks but Taehyung shakes his head. So he secures the second cuff as well before he lets go of Taehyung’s hands. 

“Don’t you look pretty?” He muses with a faint spark of heat already hitting him low as he looks at Taehyung’s cuffed hands hanging just under his chest, where the chain ends. “Feels fine?”

Taehyung swallows, his chest rising and falling steadily. “Yes.”

“Can’t touch yourself like this.” Yoongi looks down at Taehyung’s lap, where his cock is faintly twitching under the fabric of the bundled robe. “Can’t push me away either.”

Taehyung’s breath hitches. “I-I wouldn’t—”

“Wouldn’t you?” Yoongi looks at him, grinning. “I guess we’ll have to see about that.”

Then he goes down on his knees, sitting back on the balls of his feet. Taehyung looks—almost alarmed at that, eyes going wide and his body jerking as if he wants to kneel down as well. Maybe it’s instinct, the more submissive part of him that tells him he shouldn’t look down at Yoongi like this. Whatever it is, it’s fucking cute.

“Stay there,” Yoongi says as he takes Taehyung’s ankle in his hand and lifts his foot up, tugging it until Taehyung hesitantly rests it over his bent knee. “This is a reward, Taehyung. You’ve been so good for me last time, and you’ve had such busy weeks. So just let hyung take care of you today.”

Taehyung whines under his breath, the chain twinkling lightly when he tries to move his hands. 

“Embarrassed?” Yoongi asks, looking up at him while his hand curves behind his calf, then down to his ankle again.

“I don’t know,” Taehyung admits, brows furrowed. 

Yoongi lifts up an eyebrow. “I’ve had you in far more embarrassing ways.”

“I know that!” He exclaims, a blush spreading over his cheek. “It’s just—”

“Oh?” Yoongi can’t help the amusement in his voice. “Is it that you like me on my knees for you?”

Taehyung’s face flushes even more, eyes huge. 

Yoongi hums. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’re trying to kill me today,” Taehyung grumbles with a very light pout.

Yoongi shrugs, his hand still stroking up and down Taehyung’s leg, behind his knee, and under his thigh. Speaking of that, Taehyung’s leg is right there next to his face and Yoongi feels like he’s been patient enough. 

He turns to the side so that he can press his mouth to the side of Taehyung’s knee to kiss the skin there, taut over the bone and warm. Then his lips part to suck where his leg bends, between knee and thigh and drags his teeth softly over the area. He feels Taehyung’s foot plant more heavily on his thigh so he keeps going, shifting forward a bit to kiss up his inner thigh. 

God, he smells good. Of his body wash, and the faint jasmine of the lotion Yoongi keeps near the bathtub. A thought comes to him then, that he truly does enjoy when Taehyung smells like this, like he’s just showered in Yoongi’s flat, with his things. 

“So fucking soft here,” he whispers, mostly to himself, as he squeezes Taehyung’s thigh with a hand, mouth pressed to the warm skin. “You’d bruise so easily.”

Above him, Taehyung gasps and his legs twitch. 

“Want me to?” Yoongi asks, wetting his lips, eyes focused on where the robe keeps sliding down Taehyung’s thigh, folding over his hip. “Mark your legs?”

Taehyung breathes out, “Yes, hyung.”

“Good boy.” Yoongi leans in again, this time to mouth wetly at Taehyung’s inner thigh. 

He hears a quiet moan coming from above him and sucks harder, teeth nipping at the giving skin, and it gets warmer and warmer under his mouth and tongue. Over his thigh, he can feel Taehyung’s toes curling whenever his teeth drag and bite a bit meaner before he soothes the sting with his tongue, and his lips. Yoongi brings his free hand to stroke up Taehyung’s right leg. He doesn’t let up for enough time that Taehyung’s breath starts quickening, a few startled sounds building up the longer he focuses on the same spot, and it must be sensitive now. He bites again, and Taehyung hisses. 

Pulling back, Yoongi grants himself a moment to enjoy the red bruise on Taehyung’s skin, the marks of his teeth. “More,” he decides, and moves to another spot of unblemished skin, closer to the hip. 

Taehyung’s legs part for him, a moan rippling out the moment his mouth is back on his inner thigh, so close to his crotch that it must almost feel frustrating for Taehyung. His cock is getting hard already, Yoongi can see it strain under the folded robe, but he intends on taking his time. He’ll give that area plenty of attention later.

For now, he focuses on this.

He wasn’t lying when he told Taehyung he’d spend hours with his mouth on his legs. One bruise becomes two and three, and Yoongi isn’t sure how much time has passed but he knows he stopped keeping count of the marks he left and that Taehyung has stopped trying to hold his voice back.

Each drag of teeth is a gasp, each bite a whine, and then a moan when his tongue presses over the sensitive spot he just teased. 

When he finally pulls back, Yoongi sucks in a breath and looks at the map of dark bruises and bite-shaped marks he left. There’s a kick of heat low in his belly as he presses his fingers over them, following their shape, with pride and satisfaction that burn deliciously in his chest.

“So pretty,” he murmurs, and fuck his breath is short and he’s barely done anything. 

“Hyung.”

Yoongi makes a questioning noise, then looks at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s fingers are trembling near his mouth, the tips of them pressing faintly between his lips, almost as if he has half a mind to suck on them, and he looks—dazed, almost, flushed and worked up, his cock jerking under the robe, fully hard and untouched.

“So sensitive,” Yoongi laughs quietly. “Did it feel good?”

“Hyung, touch me?”

“I am touching you.”

“Not—there.”

“Should I touch you here then?” He presses a finger to Taehyung’s covered cock, trailing it over the curved length.

“Yes,” Taehyung gasps, lips brushing over his own fingertips. His hips shift, bucking up to find more pressure. “Please.”

“No.” Yoongi grabs Taehyung’s right leg under his knee and pulls it up. “I’m not done yet.”

“Hyu—hhng—” The rest of his sentence fades into a whine when Yoongi’s teeth bite on new, untouched skin, just past the knee on his thigh. 

Yoongi gives Taehyung’s right thigh the exact same amount of attention as his left; he sucks and mouths, laps at the warm skin, bites until Taehyung is squirming and moaning, and leaves the shape of his teeth and mouth over it. 

It’s when he starts sucking at the fold between his thigh and hip that Taehyung starts thrusting his hips forward wantonly.

Yoongi bites harder there, sending his hand down in a firm slap on the bruises he left on Taehyung’s left thigh. “Stop moving.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung gasps, legs trembling. “Just—please, I’m so hard.”

“You are.” Yoongi leans his head against Taehyung’s knee. “Convince me.”

Taehyung blinks. Then his mouth pulls into a pout again, and—Yoongi’s not going to lie, that could already be enough for him to give in to Taehyung’s whining. “Thought you were being nice today.”

“I never said I’d be nice, did I?” He asks, and doesn’t miss the way Taehyung’s dick twitches. “But I could be nicer if you convinced me. ‘Cause if it was up to me, trust me, I could be here all night.”

Taehyung looks at him for a while, and those—fucking fingers are still so close to his mouth and if he doesn’t cut that out, Yoongi’s just gonna suck on those instead of his cock.

“I’ll be good,” Taehyung says in the end, voice just shy of desperate. “So good. I’ll be patient and—and I will listen to everything you tell me.”

“Will you?” Yoongi shifts on his knees, moving deeper between Taehyung’s thighs. “You won’t cum unless I tell you to?”

“Yes.”

“And if you’re close you’ll tell me?” Taehyung nods eagerly. “And if I don’t stop even when you’re close, you’ll hold back for me, won’t you?”

“Y-yes.” Taehyung licks his lips, the tip of his tongue brushes on his index finger and Yoongi’s going to fucking snap. “I promise.”

Yoongi smiles. 

He has a feeling Taehyung will break that promise, and that works just fine.

“Alright.”

Before Taehyung can thank him, and Yoongi can see it in his eyes that he wants to, he grabs Taehyung by the back of his knees and tugs him closer, until his ass is barely on the edge of the mattress. He hooks Taehyung’s legs over his shoulders, pushes that damn robe out of the way, and, staring right into Taehyung’s eyes, he licks a slow, long stripe along the curve of his cock.

“Oh,” Taehyung gasps, eyes closing, and seems to be holding back a louder moan when Yoongi does it again, from the base of his cock to the tip, tongue flattening on the head. 

Yoongi leans back for a moment, and says, “I’ve been wanting to get my mouth on you since the first time I fucking had you on my bed.” Then, he takes Taehyung’s cock in his mouth.

Taehyung’s legs clamp down, pressing at the sides of Yoongi’s head as he lets out a deep, long moan. And he’s big, fills Yoongi’s mouth until his jaw aches with it, his lips stretched around him, and Yoongi has to hold back from reaching down to touch himself with how aroused he is.

Instead, he grabs onto Taehyung’s bruised thighs and digs his fingers in while pulling back, sucking as he does, mouth wrapped around the cockhead to lap at it. 

“So good,” Taehyung keens, back arching and legs settled firmly on Yoongi’s shoulders. “Hyung’s so—warm inside, so good.”

Yoongi groans, something hot and possessive flaring into him. He goes down again, swallowing Taehyung’s cock, and it’s so heavy on his tongue, hot and hard, twitching in his mouth. Yoongi flattens his tongue under it as he sucks, cheeks hollowed out. He’s always enjoyed using his mouth on his subs, but today he’s loving it. All of him, Yoongi wants to drown Taehyung in pleasure, he needs to get his mouth on every inch of tanned skin, on every part of him. 

But now, he focuses. 

He bobs his head fast, taking Taehyung deeper each time, sucking around the tip as he pulls back just because Taehyung is so sensitive there, and keeps squirming and crying out when Yoongi’s tongue laps over the slit. He lets go of his cock with a lewd, wet noise, a string of saliva dripping from his lips to Taehyung’s cock. Yoongi mouths at it, tilting his head to lap at the length, lips pressing wetly, and Taehyung’s cock jerks, precum beading at the tip.

“Hyung’s mouth is so—good,” Taehyung moans, hips twitching. “Hot. I never—’s the first time someone—”

“What?” Yoongi pulls back.

“Oh, god—d-don’t stop, please—”

“No one?” Yoongi blinks. “No one ever sucked you off?”

Taehyung whines again, though he seems to be embarrassed about it. “I-I like doing it, so I always offered.” He pauses. “They just—did other things.”

Yoongi doesn’t move for a few moments.

No one? 

What the fuck? That’s just criminal and also seems just fucking impossible to him, ‘cause how could anyone not want to use his mouth on Taehyung?

But then, the disbelief (and slight indignation) leaves space for something a lot more pleasing.

“I’m the first?”

Taehyung swallows. Quietly, he says, “You’re the first for a lot of things, hyung.”

Where they’re holding onto Taehyung’s thighs, Yoongi’s hands tighten.

“Lay down,” he says. 

Taehyung does, his back pressed to the mattress, but he strains his neck to try and get a glimpse of him still and that just fuels Yoongi’s ego a lot more than it should.

He’s the first one.

Good.

Yoongi swallows him down again, deep enough it fucking hurts, and that’s good, that feels fucking perfect. Taehyung cries out so loud his voice cracks for a moment, and he’s squirming on the bed when Yoongi sets a slow, languid pace. He makes it messy, wet, slurping around Taehyung’s cock and savoring the feel of it, the weight, the taste of him.

Right, he’s the fucking first one. The first one who had Taehyung’s dick in his mouth, the first one who made him cum just from his ass, the first one who had Taehyung going under just from pain, the one Taehyung trusts to tie him up and to take control.

The first one Taehyung wants to have sex with. 

Yoongi moans around Taehyung’s length, lips burning, and he reaches between his own legs to palm at his hard cock, rutting against his palm. It feels nowhere near enough and leaves him just more worked up, but he’s nothing if patient.

Under his mouth, Taehyung cries and moans, squirming in pleasure, with his legs trembling where they rest over Yoongi’s shoulders. When he brings a hand up to stroke over Taehyung’s belly and stomach, he can feel Taehyung’s body arching to follow his touch.

Suddenly, as Yoongi goes down on him again, Taehyung’s hips thrust up. Yoongi groans, Taehyung’s cock going deep, and he squeezes hard at his hip in warning.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” Taehyung whimpers, his voice thick with pleasure. “Felt—good, sorry.”

Yoongi hums, the sound muffled around the cock in his mouth, and that must also feel good if Taehyung’s startled moan is anything to go by.

He keeps his pace steady, slow, and maybe that’s playing dirty because he knows that this way he’s taking him deeper, sucking him harder, forcing Taehyung to feel it all, and there’s no way he’s going to last much longer— not with the way his moans are getting faster and higher, out of his control.

So that’s when Yoongi pulls back, chest heaving and chin wet with his own drool.

“No,” Taehyung whines, hips thrusting up into nothing. “Why—why did you stop?”

“You said you were gonna be good.” Yoongi dabs at his chin with the sleeve of his shirt and carefully eases Taehyung’s legs off his shoulders. “So be good.”

Taehyung breathes in deeply and, slowly, relaxes, sinking deeper into the mattress and keeping his eyes, misty and dark, on Yoongi. His cock curves, hard and flushed, over his belly.

Yoongi takes the small closed box and opens it. From it, he pulls out the rubber cock ring and shows it to Taehyung. “Color.”

“Green,” Taehyung whispers. His fingers twitch where they’re resting over his chin. 

Yoongi is careful as he stretches the cock-ring to move it down Taehyung’s length, and very slowly lets it press snugly just under his sack. Taehyung flinches at the feeling, swallowing down a noise.

“Hurts?”

“No,” Taehyung replies. 

“If it feels too tight at any point, tell me.” It shouldn’t. Rubber cock-rings are good for first-timers, and Yoongi isn’t using it as a punishment anyway. 

Not yet, at least.

Next, he helps Taehyung up the bed, making him sit in the center of the mattress before he grabs the second set of cuffs.

“Still green?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out, eyes very focused on the larger cuffs Yoongi’s holding. 

These too are linked together by a chain, only slightly sturdier than the wrist ones, and Yoongi takes his time to tie and clasp them closed around Taehyung’s ankles. The chain is short, restraining his range of movements by quite a bit. 

While Yoongi is grabbing a few pillows from the edge of the bed, Taehyung brings his knees close to his chest and seems to be looking at his tied ankles with obvious contentment. 

Yoongi sets the pillows by Taehyung’s legs, piling them together and fluffing them with his hands. “Lay down again here.”

Taehyung does, lying down on his back with the pillows under his bent legs. 

“Good.” Then Yoongi grabs his cuffed ankles and hoists Taehyung’s legs up. There’s a noise at this, as if he’d been caught off guard, and Yoongi pushes the pillows under the small of Taehyung’s back with his knees. “How flexible are you?”

“I—enough, I thin—ah!” Taehyung wrists strain against the cuffs when Yoongi pushes his legs until his knees are pressed to his chest. 

Like this, Taehyung’s body folded and bent, his ass raised on the pillows, Yoongi makes a pleased sound, letting go of his ankles to settle behind the pile of pillows, hands sprawled over the back of Taehyung’s thighs. 

“Hyung,” Taehyung whines, his voice thick with the way he’s bent. “This is so—”

“Embarrassing?” Yoongi shrugs. “Yeah.”

He grabs Taehyung’s asscheeks then and spreads them apart. Taehyung’s hole clenches around nothing, and Yoongi snorts. “I thought you were embarrassed, why are you getting tight? Haven’t even touched you.”

The chain at Taehyung’s wrists clinks and when Yoongi leans to the side to look at him, he sees that he’s hiding his face between his hands. 

“Color.”

“I’m green, I just—” Taehyung groans under his breath. “I like it. That you’re—looking.”

Yoongi grins to himself, drawing in a slow breath. “I won’t just be looking.”

Taehyung nods from under his hands, and his chest has flushed red, fingers trembling. His cock, stiff and wet with Yoongi’s saliva, jerks.

Yoongi settles more securely, hands firmly holding onto Taehyung’s ass, then leans down and, without wasting time, he presses his tongue flat against Taehyung’s rim.

Taehyung flinches, chains clinking, and he definitely must have muffled a noise against his palm. Yoongi decides he won’t call him out on it for now. 

At first, he’s slow with it. Tries to ease Taehyung into it, careful touches of his tongue over his hole and around it, up to the soft flesh of his ass where he gets to bite carefully. Except that Yoongi doesn’t really have the patience for this, turns out. Maybe it’s because he’s had it in his mind for ages to eat Taehyung out, or maybe he’s just horny and Taehyung’s hole keeps tightening whenever his tongue presses there. So the slow pace gets thrown out of the window a bit too quickly, maybe, but Yoongi couldn’t care less.

He starts prodding at Taehyung’s hole with his tongue, lips parted wide to suck around him, jaw stinging. Taehyung muffles another sound behind his palm and trembles, cock twitching over his belly.

Yoongi, without pulling back, reaches to his side blindly, patting over the bed until his hand finds the lube and that’s when he has to pull away, just so he can squeeze the lube over Taehyung’s hole. Taehyung flinches at the sudden change of temperature, from the warmth of Yoongi’s tongue and mouth to the coolness of the lube, but he also seems overwhelmed enough that he doesn’t complain. Too much comes out, coating Taehyung’s ass and trailing down his crack, so Yoongi drops the bottle and scoops it with his fingers before pushing into Taehyung’s hole with one finger. 

“Oh,” Taehyung’s hands fall to his chest, fingers twitching, eyes closed and brows pushed together.

“You’re tight,” Yoongi says as his finger sinks in deeper, down to the first knuckle. “Haven’t touched yourself lately?”

“B-busy.”

He hums. 

Then he leans down and his tongue joins his finger to lap around Taehyung’s slick hole. Lube—tastes like lube, which isn’t the best, but Yoongi isn’t stupid enough to think his tongue would be enough to get Taehyung loose and wet enough. 

He pushes his finger deeper, tongue pressing by its side as he pulls it back. On the next thrust, he meets less resistance, and he’s slicker inside, lube warming up. Yoongi sucks around Taehyung’s hole, finger in deep, then adds his tongue, pushing into him. Taehyung jerks and whines, toes curling. His knees are brushing by his chest now, spine bent at an angle that must sting, but Yoongi imagines Taehyung might enjoy that tiny bit of pain.

Yoongi adds a second finger, pushing into him steady and slow and making sure his mouth is on him through it all. His chin is sticky with lube, and the faster his fingers start fucking into him, the more he can hear the squelch of lube, the wet noises of his tongue and mouth. 

“Hot,” Taehyung gasps, and his legs press together. “Feels hot.”

Yoongi’s mouth is a bit too damn busy to answer him, but he’d like to tell Taehyung that he’s the one who feels hot inside, burning up, wet and soft for him. 

He needs more lube. He wants it to be messy.

“Talk to me,” Yoongi rasps, short-breathed, as he grabs the bottle again, smearing more lube over Taehyung. “You like it.”

“I-I do, but it’s—” His words fade when Yoongi’s fingers push into him again, lubed up and slick. His tongue joins too and Taehyung whimpers. “It’s so—feels good and-and warm, hyung’s tongue feels good.”

Yoongi hums, pushing in deeper, fingers prodding at his walls, searching. 

Taehyung moans quietly, and the chains clink together. “Haah, ‘s deep, I like that.” He murmurs something else under his breath that Yoongi doesn’t catch, but then he crooks his fingers, strokes— “Ah!” Taehyung’s knees knock together and his hole goes so tight Yoongi can barely move his fingers. “Hyung—hnn—fuck—”

There it is.

He pulls back after another push of his tongue, fingers deep inside him and carefully focusing on his prostate. “Relax. We’re gonna be here for a while.”

Taehyung makes a noise at that, something that sounds both alarmed and incredibly turned on. He blinks his eyes open and looks at Yoongi for a moment before he moans, face flushing. “F-fuck, you look so hot.”

Yoongi can’t help but grin. “Do I?” He circles the pads of his fingers around Taehyung’s prostate, breathing in deeply when Taehyung shivers and moans deep. 

“Wet,” Taehyung manages. “Your mouth’s wet.”

It’s mostly lube, Yoongi reasons, and it’s sticky and fucking uncomfortable. But if Taehyung likes that, he guesses it can stay there for a bit longer. The more vane, ego-fueled part of him tells him to tease Taehyung with that so when Taehyung looks at him again, he brings his free hand to his mouth, drags two fingers over his chin, damp and slick, and sucks on them.

Taehyung’s eyes darken, his mouth slacks, and he tightens around Yoongi’s fingers. “Hot,” Taehyung repeats again, voice shaky. His own fingers are, again, teasing at his lips. 

Yoongi’s cock jerks in his trousers. 

Keeping a hand on Taehyung’s hip to help him keep the uncomfortable position, Yoongi’s fingers don’t move away from the same spot. He strokes over his prostate with increasing pressure, until Taehyung has stopped trying to talk and just resigned to moaning and whimpering, cock twitching and wet at the tip. 

When he starts pushing and stroking fast, hard, Taehyung shudders visibly and the noise that rips out of him is so strained his voice cracks. 

“Like that,” Yoongi croons, slowing down again to circle his fingers, thumb pressing over Taehyung’s perineum. 

“Oh, no—” Taehyung gasps and his hips jerk. “Not—like that, too much—”

“You mean this?” He strokes over Taehyung’s prostate directly while applying more pressure from outside with his thumb.

Taehyung shudders again and the next moan sounds garbled, messy. “Weird, I feel—weird.”

Yoongi glances at him. His face is half-hidden behind his hands, eyes barely open, tears caught at his lashes. “Color.”

“No, I’m green, p-promise, just—” He moans again and those—fucking fingers are going to send Yoongi insane because they’re almost pushing into Taehyung’s mouth now. “Don’t—stop.”

“I wasn’t going to.” Yoongi squeezes Taehyung’s hip, quickens the push of his fingers as he rubs his thumb with good pressure. “So be good for hyung and let go.”

Taehyung stares at him for a moment. And there’s—something there, in the way he’s looking at Yoongi, that kind of burns somewhere deep. It’s an act of mercy that Taehyung decides to let his head drop back on the pillow and close his eyes because Yoongi swears he almost felt like replacing his fingers with his cock.

He needs to focus. Taehyung comes first.

Yoongi keeps on massaging Taehyung’s prostate and, this time, it’s relentless. He switches his pace at times, the angle of his fingers, the way he stimulates him, but he doesn’t give Taehyung time to breathe. The position is a strain both on Taehyung’s back and on his wrist, which fucking burns like a bitch, but it’s goddamn worth it.

Taehyung at times looks caught between wanting to sob and crying out in pleasure. He’s stopped resisting, moans unbidden and trembling, toes curled when his thighs rub together, and his cock is stiff and flushed, leaking from the tip a thin string of precum. His body keeps twitching and shuddering, hips jerking forward despite the way he’s bent, and he’s panting, whimpering, skin damp with sweat and rising in goosebumps. Yoongi’s fingers stroke over the same spot, around it, back and forth, thumb pressing in from the outside.

“Gonna—come, I think,” Taehyung gasps. “Burns, feels weird.”

“You’re alright,” Yoongi says and doesn’t stop. “Go on then.”

“You said—”

“And now I’m telling you to let go.” Yoongi strokes faster, pushes harder, and pinches the soft skin of Taehyung’s thigh. “Be good for me.”

Taehyung holds his breath, groaning, and then he shudders again, tries saying something—his cock twitches and dribbles weakly. 

“Haaah—hyun’, fuck, hot—” Taehyung babbles as he keeps shuddering, hips jerking down while his dick keeps dripping and twitching with each stroke of Yoongi’s fingers. 

“Good boy, just like that,” Yoongi murmurs, slowing the pace of his fingers but still stimulating him. 

Taehyung whines, still shaking hard, hands curled over his chest and eyes half-closed, mouth slack. 

Finally, Yoongi slowly pulls his fingers out and carefully eases Taehyung’s hips down, letting him lay on his back, the pillows squished under his hips.

“You’ve been so good for me,” Yoongi says as he strokes Taehyung’s legs. “Look at the mess you made.”

Taehyung blinks, staring at the slick that pools over his belly, and then his eyes widen. “‘m still hard.”

“You are,” is all Yoongi says before he sinks down and takes Taehyung’s cock in his mouth.

Taehyung's moan is so loud it sounds more like a scream. His legs try to push against Yoongi, but he forces them down with his hand, the cuffs at his ankles doing the rest to keep him still, and swallows around Taehyung’s cock.

“Gonna come—” Taehyung sobs. “G-gonna come again, please—”

Yoongi pulls away with a wet noise and watches with amusement the way Taehyung pushes his hips up to try and chase his mouth. 

“Hyung,” Taehyung whimpers. “So-so hard, hurts, please lemme—”

“You must be so sensitive.” He trails the tip of his finger over the length of Taehyung’s dick and grins when even just that has Taehyung trembling. “Get on your stomach.”

Taehyung does, slowly and with shaky legs and arms. The pillows are now pressed under his stomach, keeping his hips slightly elevated, but Taehyung sighs in relief. 

“Does your back hurt?” Yoongi asks, stroking between his shoulders.

“A bit,” Taehyung admits.

“Stay here.” Yoongi gets off the bed and then stops to send him a pointed look. “I’m not done with you. So don’t move.”

Taehyung nods, the side of his face pressed to the bed and his eyes closed. This small break will help him come down from the high, Yoongi hopes, so he walks into the bathroom, not closing the door but leaving it slightly ajar.

He opens the water in the sink and a glance at the mirror shows him that he looks like a fucking mess. He gets, now, what Taehyung meant by wet: his mouth and chin are fucking shiny with lube and spit. With a sigh, he cleans his face with warm water and rinses his mouth, the taste of lube still sitting on his tongue and, sure, there are flavored ones but those make Yoongi want to gag. 

Once he’s done, he looks for the soothing lotion in the bathroom cabinets.

Back in the room, Taehyung hasn’t moved at all. Either because he’s too tired to or because he’s just that obedient, Yoongi isn’t sure but it pleases him all the same.

“I’ll massage your back,” he says as he climbs onto the bed. “You rest for a bit.”

Taehyung hums, and then sighs when Yoongi settles behind him.

The lotion isn’t thick or sticky and feels cooling even on his own fingers. Yoongi starts pressing his thumbs between Taehyung’s shoulders, massaging the lotion into the heated skin. Taehyung groans at the feeling, slowly relaxing into it.

“Feels good?” Yoongi asks, bringing his hands down to the middle of his back.

“Yeah,” Taehyung breathes out. “Thank you.”

Yoongi hums and keeps massaging his back until he can feel the stiffness of Taehyung’s muscles loosen. Taehyung, on his part, stays very still and maybe he’s kind of dozing off, maybe not. He’s still hard, Yoongi knows this, so he allows Taehyung this moment of reprieve. Yoongi needs it too, his erection was getting uncomfortable. 

He pushes his fingers over the small of Taehyung’s back. Taehyung groans and his hips jerk down, then he stills. He’s stiff here, so Yoongi focuses on that spot for a while before he brings his hands up to Taehyung’s neck and shoulders. 

In Taehyung’s defense, Yoongi was distracted and that’s why it took him so long to realize that Taehyung’s hips had started moving again.

And, again, in his defense, Yoongi does notice at one point and decides to pretend he doesn’t because he’s an asshole sometimes.

Still massaging his back, Yoongi looks down and sees the hesitant, careful way Taehyung grinds into the pillows under his belly. He’s fucking them, Yoongi realizes with a glint of amusement, and it’s cute. Even cuter is how hard Taehyung is trying to regulate his breathing, still thinking Yoongi hasn’t noticed.

Genuinely, very adorable.

Yoongi pulls back and spanks Taehyung hard enough Taehyung flinches with a gasp.

“What did I tell you?”

“Sorry,” Taehyung whispers.

“I told you not to move, didn’t I?” Yoongi kneels and grabs Taehyung’s hips.

“Y-yes.”

“Turn around.”

Slowly, and not without a certain difficulty given the cuffs at his wrists and ankles, Taehyung turns on his back, eyes heavy and misty as he stares at Yoongi. His cock is hard and untouched between his legs, and when Yoongi flicks at the tip meanly enough that Taehyung yelps, it twitches.

"You want this touched that badly?" Yoongi asks.

Taehyung whines quietly, hips shifting in a way that shouldn't look as tempting as it is. 

“I’ll touch you, then.” Yoongi goes to sit at the edge of the bed, leaning against the headboard, and says, “Come here.”

Taehyung looks almost suspicious for a moment, but in the end he rolls on his hands and knees and ends up crawling towards him, bound hands and ankles making the process hard enough that there’s a pink shade of humiliation on his face. 

Yoongi helps him to sit between his legs, Taehyung’s back pressed to his chest and he wraps his arms around him, stroking over his stomach. “Like this,” he whispers in his ear, and Taehyung shivers. 

Yoongi reaches for Taehyung’s cock only to rub his index finger over the tip and grins at the frustrated noise Taehyung makes. “I’m touching you, what are you complaining about?”

“Not like—that,” Taehyung says with a hard swallow. He tries bucking his hips up but, as soon as he does, Yoongi pulls his hand back. “Hyung.”

Without a word, Yoongi brings his hands to Taehyung’s chest and tweaks his nipples hard. Taehyung whimpers loudly and bows his back as if trying to pull away.

“Stop moving,” Yoongi says, still pulling Taehyung’s nipples before he starts rubbing around them with his thumbs. That makes Taehyung moan, breathy and quiet, and he arches slightly, knees slowly pulling towards his stomach. “Feels good?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs.

So Yoongi doesn’t stop. His fingers keep on circling around them as they harden, modulating his pressure whenever he strokes over them, his touches light until they’re not anymore.

Taehyung’s breath hitches and his head lolls back, resting over Yoongi’s shoulder. His eyes are closed and his lips parted, shiny and red like he’s just bitten them, and Yoongi stares at them, feels his mouth go dry.

With one hand he gropes Taehyung’s chest, with the other tweaks his nipple and then presses around it, massaging skin that feels too fucking giving, and smooth. Taehyung moans, thighs rubbing together. 

Yoongi ducks his head between Taehyung’s neck and shoulder and breathes in, fingers playing with his nipples faster, the strokes less light. “You smell good,” he says, nosing along Taehyung’s jaw.

“Thank you,” Taehyung whispers, his voice thick and shaky.

He really is too responsive. Anywhere Yoongi touches seems to feel good, and Yoongi is silently glad for the collar; if it wasn’t there, he knows he’d be already marking Taehyung’s neck. 

“You’re so sensitive all the time,” Yoongi muses. “Here too?”

Taehyung frowns but when Yoongi tugs at his earlobe lightly with his teeth, his eyes open wide. “Ah, wait—”

“Oh, you are?” Yoongi does it again, feels the way Taehyung’s body stiffens for a moment, and then licks at the shell of his ear. 

Taehyung keens, head tilting to the side. “Fuck.”

Yoongi should have guessed this spot would be sensitive too, given the way Taehyung’s body seems to be made just to receive pleasure. Flicking his fingers and pressing into his nipples, Yoongi’s tongue licking along the shell of his ear, teeth scraping over it, Taehyung lets out an overwhelmed whimper, chest heaving under Yoongi’s hands, his cock jerking against his belly.

“Feels—good,” Taehyung gasps with a shiver. His hips jerk down, ass pressed to Yoongi’s erection. “Hard, made you hard.”

Yoongi groans and before he can stop himself he’s grinding against Taehyung’s ass, tugging at his earlobe with his teeth, pressing his fingers hard around Taehyung’s nipples until there’s another whimper.

Maybe he can make Taehyung come like this, just from his nipples. He’s sensitive enough for that. Or he could edge him like this, keep him on the threshold of release until he’s shaking and begging with that broken voice of his. Both options sound tempting.

There’s a clink of chains again, and Taehyung’s next moan is muffled and wet.

Yoongi looks at him, drawing in a harsh breath when he sees Taehyung suckling around his own fingers and struggling to keep his eyes open.

And really, Yoongi’s been far too patient about this.

With one hand he pulls Taehyung’s hands down, then grabs him by the jaw. “You’ve been doing that all evening and it’s been driving me insane.”

Taehyung blinks slowly, fingers twitching, shiny with his spit. “I—was?”

Yoongi hums, still toying with Taehyung’s chest. “You want your mouth filled that bad?”

Taehyung swallows hard, a whine caught in his throat. For a few moments he stays quiet but then he leans in closer, eyes falling to Yoongi’s lips. “Yes.”

Oh.

It’s been—well, weeks. The last time they kissed was also the only time they did, and after that, it just seemed like Taehyung was over the whole thing. But the way Taehyung stares at his mouth now is unmistakable, and Yoongi should be smart and distract him with something so they can—move on.

Right, that’s not gonna happen. But that doesn’t mean Yoongi can’t make it fun.

“Grab the lube for me.”

Taehyung blinks up at him, confused. “Huh?”

Yoongi’s hands disappear from his body and he leans back. “Grab it for me, and then I’ll give you a reward since you’ve been so patient.”

That seems to do it. Taehyung quickly shuffles forward, tucking his legs under him—maybe it’s the eagerness, or maybe he forgot about the cuffs at his ankles, but he ends up stumbling, losing his balance; he ends up on his knees and elbows.

Yoongi’s hand goes down to slap his asscheek and Taehyung yelps, thighs pressing together. “Go on.”

“You’re being mean,” Taehyung mutters after a moment as he starts crawling to where the bottle of lube lays.

Yoongi leans forward. “I know.” Another slap, not hard enough to really hurt, but enough for Taehyung’s arms to buckle for a moment. “So what do we say?”

Taehyung’s knees drag over the bedsheets and, quietly, he says, “Thank you.”

“Good boy.”

To actually grab the lube, with the way his hands are cuffed and the length of the chain, Taehyung ends up having to go down to his elbows, chest almost pressed entirely to the mattress, his hips raised high. His breathing has gone shallow, and between his thighs his cock hangs heavy. 

He likes this too, doesn’t he? Maybe they should start playing with humiliation more. He makes a mental note of that and waits for Taehyung to come back to him, looking slightly indignant and very much turned on.

He settles between Yoongi’s legs again like before, staring at Yoongi’s mouth again with not-so-subtle impatience. Yoongi glances at him with a raised eyebrow and, carefully, he opens the bottle, pouring lube over his right hand. “Need something?”

“Just—” He licks his lips. “You said—”

The rest of the sentence morphs into a choked moan when Yoongi’s slick hand suddenly closes around his cock. Taehyung’s hands strain against the chain as he arches back, leaning heavily against Yoongi’s chest. 

Yoongi’s fist strokes down Taehyung’s length, hard and hot to the touch, closing around the cockhead on the upstroke, and Taehyung moans deep and long, hips jerking forward.

That’s when Yoongi leans in to kiss him. 

Taehyung’s cock twitches into his fist at the first press of his tongue between his lips, and he opens up for Yoongi so easily it steals a sigh from him.

“More,” Taehyung whispers, staring at him with eyes so dark they look infinite. “Please.”

Almost in a daze, Yoongi kisses him again. 

Their first kiss had been soft, careful, almost too much, but Taehyung was coming down from a harsh scene and Yoongi hadn’t dared to do anything more.

This, though, is nothing like that.

Taehyung kisses him like he’s been starving for it. Mouth hot and lips slick, tongue heavy and slow, and it’s messy already, wet, and Yoongi feels like he might be sinking for a moment. 

Then Taehyung moans, and it’s against Yoongi’s mouth, and it’s fucking good to not just hear it but to feel it. 

He lets go of Taehyung’s cock just to grab his hip and guide him closer, until Taehyung’s side is pressed to him and the angle makes it easier to kiss him deeper, slower, a hand curved over his nape, toying with the rim of his collar.

When Yoongi wraps his fingers around Taehyung’s dick, there’s another sound of pleasure that tastes so sweet on Yoongi’s tongue, then Taehyung’s melting against him, tongue licking into Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi sucks around it, flicks his wrist, feels a shudder run through Taehyung’s body. 

“Close,” Taehyung gasps.

Yoongi lets go of him and says, “Good boy.” 

Taehyung hums, but he’s distracted, leaning in again and Yoongi doesn’t even want to fight this, so he kisses him again, Taehyung’s lips already parted for him. 

And has it always felt this damn good to just—kiss someone? Or has it always felt this erotic? Yoongi swears it feels like he’s kissing someone for the first time all over again.

The realization, then, that he could do this all night hits him hot and hard, and he feels his cock jerk in his trousers.

His fist closes around Taehyung’s dick again, squeezing it before he strokes up to the tip, then down, fast, hard, and it’s wet with the lube, noisy. Taehyung moans into his mouth and fucks into his fist, whimpering when Yoongi tugs at his collar in warning. He stills, lets Yoongi bite his bottom lip and soothe the sting with his tongue.

“Gonna come,” Taehyung whines, eyes misty.

Yoongi’s hand pulls away and whatever complaint Taehyung was about to make is gone when he’s being kissed again.

And Yoongi isn’t sure how much time goes by, but his lips feel raw, his chin wet, and Taehyung’s cock is so stiff in his hand it barely has any give.

Three more orgasms are lost, and Taehyung is shaking against him, hands desperately grabbing onto his shirt as he grinds into nothing, crying pitifully against Yoongi’s mouth, begging for more so sweetly Yoongi is almost tempted to give in.

“Look at you,” Yoongi rasps, staring at Taehyung’s twitching cock, slick and flushed, balls tight above the cockring. He strokes a hand between Taehyung’s thighs, hot to the touch, shiny with sweat. “So beautiful.”

Taehyung doesn’t reply. He’s panting and almost limp in Yoongi’s arms, shuddering with each breath, and so gone he stopped trying to keep his mouth closed. 

“Still with me?”

“Mmh.” Taehyung blinks. “Feel light.”

“Yeah? Good boy.” Yoongi’s hands loosely wrap around him again. “Give me two more.”

The first stroke is light, and slow, and still Taehyung moans like he wants to sob, searching for Yoongi’s mouth until they’re kissing again. Maybe it’s because he’s gone under, or he’s too overwhelmed, but his tongue barely moves, his lips lazily slotting against Yoongi’s. He seems content to just let Yoongi lick into his mouth, and it’s fucking hot, it’s making Yoongi want to ruin him even more.

“Comin’,” Taehyung slurs.

Yoongi’s hand lets go again, and this time strokes over Taehyung’s belly. “You’re doing so well for me. One more, then I’ll make you come.”

Taehyung nods, slow and dazed, eyes almost closed. But he heaves a relieved sigh when Yoongi kisses him again, whimpering when he’s being touched, cock so slick and wet even the slowest stroke sounds loud and messy.

Taehyung is the one who breaks the kiss this time, breathless and overwhelmed, every breath a moan as Yoongi strokes his cock in tight, fast movements, pausing every few moments to drag it out, to see how Taehyung trembles and begs. 

And if he looks like this just from this—so sensitive and pliant, flushed all over, lips kissed red and swollen, tears clinging to his lashes, what would he look like around Yoongi’s cock, getting fucked hard and fast, tight and hot around him—

“God, Taehyung,” Yoongi groans against Taehyung’s mouth and rubs his thumb over Taehyung’s slit, stroking down his length. “I wish I could just fuck you.”

Taehyung’s body goes taut for a moment, and that should have been Yoongi’s first warning. Then he shudders, hips fucking into his fist and he comes with a cry, spilling over Yoongi’s fist, cum dribbling down to his belly.

“Haah—’m sorry,” Taehyung moans, still blindly thrusting between Yoongi’s fingers. “Sorry, c-couldn’t stop, felt t-too good, ‘m sorry.”

Huh.

Yoongi looks down at his hand, covered in Taehyung’s cum, then at Taehyung’s cock, still hard, still twitching.

He clicks his tongue. “To think you were so close.” Then Yoongi grabs Taehyung’s cockhead and starts kneading it.

Taehyung’s eyes go wide as he lets out a hoarse noise, legs scrambling, hands straining against the cuffs to try and push his hand away.

“Stop moving.” Yoongi digs his thumb hard into Taehyung’s slit, squeezing around his cock. “This is a punishment.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung gasps again and he’s shaking, thighs trembling. “Please, ‘m sorry—”

“I’m not stopping unless you use your colors right.”

Taehyung clamps his mouth shut.

Yoongi hums, easing his grip around Taehyung. “So?”

“Green,” Taehyung whispers after a moment, and there’s that dazed look again, so fucking gone and trusting. 

Yoongi’s fingers start moving again, slick with lube and cum, kneading around Taehyung’s cockhead. “Is it really a punishment when you’re such a masochist you end up enjoying it?”

Taehyung clings to his shirt again, moans ragged and bordering on groans, and now he’s truly shaking, tremors wrecking through him relentlessly.

“Since you’re so desperate for it you’re going to come again for me,” Yoongi says, hand focusing solely on the tip, his fingers slotting over the cockhead, palm rubbing over it. “Say you’re sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Taehyung cries out, hips jerking uncontrollably. 

“Stop moving.”

“C-can’t.” He sobs, then keens high and airy. “Hyung, c-can’t, burns, f-feels—hurts, so good, goin’ crazy.”

Yoongi’s the one going insane here with how aroused he is. 

He knows that the cockring’s helping but, fuck, Taehyung’s so hard and hot in his hand, leaking like he hasn’t stopped coming at all. He flicks his wrist, fingers rubbing around the shaft and Taehyung’s voice cracks, a string of apologies that are quickly lost to sounds of overwhelming pain and pleasure.

When he finally comes again, Taehyung chokes, nails dragging over Yoongi’s throat to his collarbones and it stings enough Yoongi moans, watching Taehyung’s cock weakly dribble with cum.

“Good boy.” Yoongi pulls his hand away and, not really caring, he dries it over the bedsheets. “Breathe for me, you did good.”

Taehyung just curls against Yoongi, chest rising and falling fast. The tremors are still there, but they’re starting to ease, so Yoongi strokes up and down his back, a hand resting over Taehyung’s knee. “You’re with me, yes?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “‘m good.”

“I’ll take the cuffs off.”

Taehyung whines at this, shaking his head. 

“No?” Yoongi asks. “Want to keep them?”

After a few moments, Taehyung answers, “Only the cuffs.”

“Want to keep the collar a bit longer?” He checks and Taehyung nods. “Okay, whatever you want.”

Once the cuffs and chains are gone, Taehyung seems to relax even further, happily curled in his arms. He doesn’t even complain when Yoongi carefully takes the cockring off, even though that must feel uncomfortable. Once Yoongi settles back, an arm wrapped around him, Taehyung lets out a long sigh. 

“Sorry,” Taehyung says after a while. “‘s takin’ me a while to—come down.”

“It’s alright, there’s no rush. Are you cold?” 

Taehyung shakes his head. “Wanna stay like this.”

Yoongi hums. “We can stay like this for a bit longer, but you’ll be cold soon. Wouldn’t you like a shower?”

“That—” Taehyung snorts lightly. “That sounds nice, but I can’t feel my legs.”

“Take a bath, then.” A pause. “I’ll wash you.”

Taehyung looks up at this, and he seems to be more present. “You would?”

“I’d like to,” Yoongi admits in the end. “Would help me too.”

“Help you?”

Yoongi nods. “You’re not the only one who feels the effects of a scene. So, yeah, it’d help me.”

Taehyung breathes in. “I’d like a bath, then.”

The collar gets put back in its box.

Taehyung looks unhappy about it for a grand total of five minutes, then he’s happily sinking into warm water, foam up to his chin, and he grins wide. “This is nice.”

“Want me to wash your hair?” Yoongi asks and Taehyung nods, knees peeking between the layer of foam.

Yoongi makes it a slow process, massaging the shampoo into his scalp and hair. Taehyung seems to enjoy it, sighing happily and relaxing in the water, the heat flushing his neck lightly.

“Close your eyes,” Yoongi says from where he’s sitting on the rim of the bathtub as he reaches for the shower head. He rinses Taehyung’s hair and tries his best to keep the foam away from his eyes. Once that’s done, he dries off his hands and rolls his shoulders. “Feeling good?”

“Yeah,” Taehyung looks at him with a smile. “You’re good at taking care of people.”

Yoongi shrugs. “Kind of comes with the job.”

“I like it.”

“Being taken care of?”

Taehyung’s smile widens for a moment. “That too, I guess.”

“I like taking care of you,” Yoongi admits then. “You make it easy.”

Taehyung’s smile dims into something softer, something that makes Yoongi’s chest ache again with that same hot burn he doesn’t fucking know how to name. “Thank you.”

It hits Yoongi almost too late that he’s leaning in. Once he realizes, he freezes. Taehyung stares at him, holding his breath.

What was he going to do? No, seriously, what the fuck was he trying to do? Kiss him? Outside of a scene?

What the fuck?

“I’ll make you tea,” he says after clearing his throat. “You can stay for as long as you like. I’ll leave your clothes in the bedroom, okay?”

Taehyung nods, looking somewhat confused.

Yoongi exits the bathroom, leaving the door slightly open. Just to be safe. 

“These are for you.”

Yoongi looks up from his cup of tea. Taehyung, now fully clothed and with ruffled, towel-dried hair, slides a small piece of paper over the table. “What is it?”

“Ticket for the opening night.” Taehyung shrugs and takes his mug again, blowing on it. “If you can’t make it it’s fine, but I still wanted to give it to you.”

“No, I’ll be there.” Yoongi smiles. “Promise. Namjoon and Jungkook will also be there, right?”

“Yeah, Jungkook never misses my opening nights.” He grimaces. “He’s kind of embarrassing about it. Cheers too loud.”

“I’ll make sure to cheer quietly, then.” Yoongi taps his fingers over the table, then says, “Should we have a scene after the show?”

Taehyung looks at him. “Wouldn’t that be late?”

“You can sleep here,” Yoongi blurts out. Again, what? “Or I could drive you back.”

“I’d like that,” Taehyung answers, smiling. “Let’s do it.”

Later, Yoongi waits for Taehyung to put on his coat before he opens the door for him. “I’ll see you at the show.”

“Okay. Good night, then.”

“Good night.”

“Ah!” Taehyung turns around just as he crosses the threshold and starts going through his coat’s pockets. “Oh, god, I almost forgot.”

He pulls out an envelope. Yoongi’s hand twitches. “Right.”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s—it’s fine.” He takes the envelope, nodding at Taehyung with a smile he hopes doesn’t look as forced as it feels. “I’ll see you soon, Taehyung.”

He closes the door once Taehyung goes inside the elevator.

Left alone, he stares at the envelope in his hands and doesn’t open it. 

Has it always felt this heavy? It can’t be. It’s just paper. Just money.

Yoongi breathes in.

He doesn’t want it. This money, the money from before, the money Taehyung will bring the next time they meet, he doesn’t fucking want it. 

He doesn’t want to see Taehyung just so they can have a scene. Doesn’t want to plan every single meeting they have. Doesn’t want to be paid. 

He wants Taehyung in his bathtub again. Or in his bed, against him, calling his name, drawing him in for a kiss, for anything, for—

“Joon-ah, what are you talking about?”

“I’m saying you have feelings for him.”

The envelope falls to the floor.

In the silence of the apartment, staring at the wall, Yoongi says, “I fucked up.”

Chapter Text

Taehyung feels like he’s in the middle of an intervention.

“It’s not an intervention,” Jimin says again, exasperated, as he sits cross-legged on Taehyung’s couch. 

“Then why does it look like one?” Taehyung eyes the people crowding his living room.

Jungkook is splayed out on the soft carpet at the feet of the couch and seems to be very busy texting someone. Probably Namjoon.

Actually, definitely Namjoon.

Hoseok sits by Jimin’s side, an arm slung casually over the backrest to play with Jimin’s hair. He says, “To be honest, I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“We need an external opinion,” Jungkook explains lazily, fingers tapping away on the phone’s screen. “On the situation.”

“There’s no situation,” Taehyung says.

“There very much fucking is.” Jimin looks at his boyfriend. “He’s in love with his professional dom.”

Hoseok’s eyes go huge. “No shit.”

“Thanks for that,” Taehyung sighs and in the end drops on his armchair and wishes he could sink into it. 

“And we think his dom is also in love with him,” Jimin adds and Taehyung almost starts laughing.

Goddamn, he wishes. 

“Okay.” Hoseok frowns, eyes moving from Jimin to Taehyung, back and forth. “And why do we think that?”

“Tell him, babe,” Jimin says, looking down to where Jungkook has rolled on his stomach.

“First of all, we’re not the only ones who think this.” Jungkook looks away from his phone for one moment to look at Hoseok. Then, when it rings with a text notification, he focuses on it again. “My boyfriend, who’s a close friend of Taehyung’s dom, Yoongi, also thinks the same.”

“Wait, what?” Taehyung leans forward, straightening up. 

“Namjoon actually tried getting Yoongi to fess up but had no success. He says Yoongi’s great when it comes to other people but fucking shit when it comes to being self-aware with his own feelings.” Jungkook shrugs. “So, either way, Yoongi can’t be trusted on this. But Namjoon is absolutely convinced he has feelings for Taehyung. I agree, mostly because Namjoon acted the same way as Yoongi when he started falling for me.” Jungkook frowns as he types something. “‘Cause of the contract, Namjoon kept being all weird, thought he was being unprofessional and that he was taking advantage of me or something. Whatever, not the point.”

“That’s—” Hoseok blinks. “What kinda lives are you guys living?”

“This is ridiculous,” Taehyung mutters. 

Hoseok holds out a hand, blinking. “No, hold up. Since you want my opinion on this—”

Taehyung says, “I literally do not.”

“ Since you want my opinion,” Hoseok repeats, louder. “I’m going to need the entire story explained to me, from start to finish. No details left out.”

All eyes end up on Taehyung.

He realizes there’s no way out of this. 

With a deep sigh, Taehyung starts from the beginning.

Hoseok is staring at him with an unwavering gaze, elbows propped on his knees and chin tucked on the palms of his hands. Silence follows.

Taehyung told him everything he could remember, which turned out to be—a lot. He didn’t skip out on any detail, even the ones he thought were useless, and now he finds himself waiting with bated breath for Hoseok’s verdict despite himself.

Jimin and Jungkook must have brainwashed him or something.

Suddenly, Hoseok clicks his tongue, head tilting to the side in a quick motion. He says, “Isn’t this guy in love with you?”

“Told you so!” Jimin shrieks, pointing a finger at Taehyung. “I fucking told you so!”

“Like—” Hoseok laughs. “Come on now. First, he’s like, noooo I don’t have sex with my clients , but then he never really shut it down either? And then he basically comes to your rescue in the middle of the night and sleeps at your place? And makes you breakfast? He kisses you? Even though he has all these boundaries in place? And let's not even get into the whole collar thing, ‘cause that’s a big deal, the fact that he spent that much time picking it out means he cares . And then—like, he kissed you again. And looked like he wanted to kiss you outside of the scene. Not to mention the fact that he literally says he wants to have sex with you. I mean…” Hoseok shrugs. “It’s kinda obvious.”

“We’ve been saying this,” Jungkook says, sounding bored of this entire discussion.

“It doesn’t mean he’s in love with me,” Taehyung groans. “He’s just nice.”

“That goes beyond being nice—come on, you can’t be this dense unless it’s on purpose.” Jimin looks at Taehyung with a flash of impatience. “You should tell him.”

“Fuck no.”

“He absolutely should,” Hoseok agrees.

“We should plan this.” Jungkook finally locks his phone and sits up straight. “I actually have the perfect idea for this. Now, hear me out, I get that it’s gonna sound like I plucked the plan out of a rom-com, but —”

Taehyung stops listening.

He’s not angry at them. Annoyed? Maybe. But he understands that they’re acting with good intentions and that they just want to help and reassure Taehyung. But he doesn’t need this. He doesn’t even want this: fake hope is a drug and he wants to stay away from it.

He’s not a fool. Yoongi doesn’t like him the way Taehyung does. He’s kind, and he’s good to Taehyung because that’s his job. Sure, they’ve gotten closer lately, and their relationship definitely went out of the boundaries laid out by a dom-sub contract, but if he had to really describe what they have right now it would just be—the beginning of a friendship. Maybe not even that.

“Guys,” Taehyung calls, stopping Jungkook’s elaborate plan that most definitely was plucked out of a rom-com. “Look, I appreciate all this, but I don’t want it.” He sighs and offers them a smile. “I mean it. I don’t think Yoongi likes me that way and, right now, I don’t want to think about it. Opening night is soon and I just want to focus on that. So can we just drop this?”

This seems to sober them up. Hoseok leans back onto the couch, Jimin looks away and Jungkook mumbles something under his breath about how the plan would have worked but doesn’t add anything.

Taehyung clears his voice. “He’s coming to see me on opening night. We’ll probably have a scene after.”

Jimin perks up. “That could be the right time to—”

“No.” Taehyung shakes his head. “I’m not ready. I get that it might be weird that I still want to keep our—dynamic going despite my feelings, but I’m not ready to give it up yet. I guess that’s selfish, too. At the end of the day, I’m kind of using him. But I’m just—” Taehyung swallows heavily, eyes stinging. “I’m not ready to let him go.”

Hoseok’s face softens, lower lip jutting out like he wants to cry. “That’s sweet.”

“That’s dumb,” Jungkook says. Taehyung flips him off.

Jimin stands up and waves a hand in the air dismissively. “Fine then, let’s drop it. We’ll do things your way, Taehyung.”

“Thank you.” Taehyung takes a deep breath. “Now, I’m starving. Let's order food before I eat Jungkook’s face.”

Later into the night, well after his friends left, Taehyung is sitting on the couch going through the script and his notes. Opening night is basically around the corner and, even though he knows he’s ready, the nerves are starting to kick in.

Opening nights are mostly for critics, fellow actors, and people who either paid a shitload of money for tickets or for family and friends that have been invited to the show. A bad opening night can decide the fate of the entire production and, quite honestly, Taehyung would like to keep this job for a while. He’s not ready to go through audition hell again.

A few minutes pass and his phone buzzes. Taehyung glances at it and then springs up from his slumped position once he recognizes Yoongi’s e-mail address in the notification preview.

Is it the scene already? Fuck, he was quick with it.

Taehyung opens the e-mail and reads it.

Then he reads it again.

Then a third time, just to make sure he’s not hallucinating the word wax play and Yoongi’s message at the end of the e-mail.

So, about your…deflowering request.

I’ll give you what you want if you still want it.

Taehyung’s mouth goes dry.

It’s… it’s actually happening? 

What. What the fuck.

Yoongi will have sex with him. He’ll fuck Taehyung, just like Taehyung always wanted. 

Is he ready? Emotionally? Yes, sure, he was the one who brought it up in the first place, but that was when he wasn’t falling head over heels for the guy. 

Taehyung starts worrying.

Maybe this isn’t a good idea anymore. It’s not the same as just having sex with this random man he contacted on a website, this is—it’s Yoongi . Who’s kind, soft-spoken, generous, and who’s helped Taehyung learn about himself more than he could ever put into words. Taehyung is in love with him. If he has sex with him now, then what happens after? Will he be able to just pretend nothing changed? Can he keep seeing Yoongi and act like everything they have going on is that contract?

But what if it’s my only chance to know what it would feel like to have him?

Taehyung sighs.

He’s always been selfish and fickle like this, ever since he was young. 

He knows he won’t be able to say no to this. 

But maybe this time—maybe after this scene, he’ll tell Yoongi how he feels. Maybe.

Hopefully.

╭─────╮

So, Yoongi may have underestimated the actual impact of this opening night.

It’s just that whenever Taehyung talks about his job he always makes it seem something small and reserved for a restricted circle of theater fanatics. So Yoongi thought that tonight was going to be in a small, independent theater or something.

That is not the case.

The theater is in Daehangno, and it’s fucking huge . And there is a crowd, not just some people. An actual large, bustling crowd of people waiting for the doors to open. Yoongi is pretty sure that there are journalists, too, and he swears he’s seen recognizable celebrities slide inside the theater from reserved entries.

He’s absolutely not dressed for the occasion. Honestly, he doesn’t own fancy clothes in general, but maybe he could have worn something better than a padded leather jacket. Most men here are wearing expensive-looking coats. 

Looking around, he ends up spotting Jungkook and he quickly makes his way through the crowd to join him. As he gets closer, he also sees Namjoon and another man he doesn’t know, smiling the widest smile he’s ever seen on a human face before.

“Hyung,” Namjoon exclaims once he’s next to him, and he pats his shoulder. “You made it.”

“Of course.” Yoongi smiles at Jungkook. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Same.” Jungkook smirks, and he turns to Hoseok. “Hoseok-hyung, this is Min Yoongi. ”

Huh.

The other man—Hoseok—looks at him for a moment and then his eyes spark with—something. “Oh, I see.”

Namjoon squints his eyes. Yoongi just feels confused.

“It’s good to meet you,” Hoseok says, grinning from ear to ear. “At last.”

“At last?”

“Tae told me about you,” Hoseok replies. 

Right.

One glance at Namjoon’s pinched expression tells Yoongi that Taehyung probably told him a lot.

“You’re friends with Taehyung, then,” Yoongi assumes.

“Of course! But I’m here for Jimin. He’s my boyfriend.”

“Bunch of gays at the theater,” Jungkook says. “Look at us.”

“As it should be.” Hoseok nods firmly.

“This is going to be a long night,” Namjoon mutters.

It takes a while for doors to open, and even longer for everyone to find their seats. Taehyung and Jimin made sure that their seats were all next to each other, so Yoongi ends up sitting next to Namjoon, with Jungkook on Namjoon’s other side and Hoseok next to him.

The seats are, thankfully, placed in a slightly tilted space so that even the ones in the furthest rows have a good view of the stage. The ceilings are tall, while the stage is slightly rounded and large, with the wings closing in around it dark and high. 

Looking around, Yoongi can see many people holding onto elaborate flower bouquets, beautifully decorated with colorful papers and ribbons.

“Should we have brought flowers too?” he asks.

“Jimin’s allergic as shit to pollen,” Hoseok answers, leaning forward to look at Yoongi. 

“And Taehyung gets sad when they wilt.” Jungkook shrugs. “Probably the least romantic dudes I know.”

“You don’t like flowers either,” Namjoon says with a raised eyebrow.

“I’d like them if you gave me some.” Jungkook smiles. “I like everything hyung gives me.”

“Behave before I slap you on the head.”

Hoseok starts laughing loud enough that some people turn their way, glaring at them with that same kind of snobbish grimaces Yoongi’s used to after working in the music business for so long. Assholes are everywhere, it turns out.

Suddenly, the lights dim and a hush falls on the crowd before a man walks on stage. Immediately, a round of applause begins, and the man bows deeply.

“That’s Seokjin-hyung, the director,” Jungkook explains quietly. “He’s like—the funniest guy ever but in the unfunniest way possible.”

“The fuck does that mean?” Yoongi asks with a frown, clapping anyway.

“You’ll see.”

Seokjin has a speech prepared, it seems. He starts by thanking everyone for coming and then goes into a brief tale about how the show came to life, his process as he wrote the script, and how he had to fight to find producers for it once the material was ready. 

Yoongi’s first impression is that Kim Seokjin is a professional, well-spoken, and blunt and that if he hadn’t become a director then he would have either ended up as a model or as an actor with a face like that.

That all flies out of the window when Seokjin ends his speech by saying, “But now, I shall leave the stage to the actors. I wouldn’t want to… steal the spotlight. ” Kim Seokjin starts cackling. An audible groan lifts from the crowd.

“Holy shit, that was atrocious,” Namjoon whispers.

Seokjin leaves the stage while still laughing.

Then the lights go dark, the spotlights light up halos of yellow light onto the stage, and the show begins.

By the middle of the first act, Yoongi has a general idea of the story.

It’s set somewhere in the middle of the 1700s, with the actors wearing hanboks. The story revolves around a group of rich heirs, who spend their summer in a large mansion by the mountains. The main characters are Jaehyun, the son of a rich fabric merchant, Minjae, played by Jimin, who comes from old money, his clan dating back to the Joseon dynasty, and Daeseong, played by Taehyung. His character is mysterious, says he’s new money but acts like a noble.

The cast is large though, an ensemble of wealthy young men and women, all full of privilege and boredom, as they end up showing up at Jaehyun’s mansion every night for alcohol and mindless fun.

Minjae is nasty. He’s cruel, and full of himself, treating everyone with nothing but arrogance and spite. Jimin is—well, Yoongi doesn’t know him, but on stage, he’s fucking impressive. He eats the space he’s in, and his voice is lovely and delicate but spits venom like a snake.

Jaehyun grows more and more annoyed with Minjae as the play goes on until his dislike turns into hatred.

And the one who feeds that hatred is Daeseong, Taehyung’s character. 

Manipulative, and sly, downright fearsome whenever he implies how much better this summer would be without Minjae, how he and Jaehyun would probably have such a good time if it was just the two of them in this house, without Minjae’s constant, heavy presence. They should just get rid of him. 

And that’s what happens after what starts as a lighthearted discussion between Minjae and Jaehyun that then turns into a fight, and then an altercation. And, in the end, overwhelmed with his anger and spurred on by Daeseong’s words, Jaehyun murders Minjae in cold blood.

And Yoongi never doubted Taehyung’s acting skills. But seeing him on that stage is putting things into a new perspective because Taehyung isn’t just good. Taehyung is terrifying.

The way he moves on stage is fluid, never a step too much, not an expression that seems forced. His voice carries through the theater strong and steady, at times sugary and at times as sharp as a knife.

His character is a tempter, blood-thirsty, with a morbid obsession for Jaehyun, possessive and cruel. All he wants is to have Jaehyun chained to him, and to do so he kills and seduces Jaehyun into killing for him. And through it all, Jaehyun is plagued with guilt and remorse that manifest themselves in the form of Minjae’s ghost, haunting him through the entire play, with Jimin spending the rest of his scenes covered in blood, ashen, and downright scary.

Now, Jaehyun is pressed against a table, pinned to it as Daeseong—Taehyung—grips him by the back of his neck and with a firm hand between his shoulders.

“Let go!” Jaehyun snarls, squirming on the table.

“Or what? You’ll tell someone?” Taehyung sneers, lips curled to show his teeth. “And what will you tell them? That you’ve murdered Minjae? And Chaeyoung? A woman barely in her twenties?”

“It was you! You made me!”

“But the blood is on your hands, is it not?” Taehyung laughs, mellow and deep. “I haven’t done anything, Jaehyun.”

“Kim Daeseong!” Jaehyun thrashes against the table until he manages to free himself from Taehyung’s grip. Panting, he shoves Taehyung away from him. “As you say! My hands are dirty! So I shall sully them again, with your blood this time, and—”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Taehyung says, his head tilting to the side, curls falling over his brows. “What could you possibly do without me? I’m the one who’s showing you your real self.”

“You’re a demon!”

“So be it.” Taehyung then smiles and it’s—lovely, it’s stunning, it has the fucking audience gasping. “I’ll be a demon. Whatever you want. As long as it’s just us. All those other people, we don’t need them.” Taehyung takes a step forward and Jaehyun steps back, hands trembling.

Yoongi watches as Taehyung’s smile drops, giving space to a blank, hard glare.

“Must you be so stubborn, Jaehyun?”

As Taehyung starts walking again, Jaehyun scrambles back to the table, gripping it tightly and turning around to show the audience his terrified face. “Don’t get closer—”

“You’re simply lying to yourself,” Taehyung’s mouth curls in disgust, chin raised with spite, his eyes empty. “I cannot stand it when people like you pretend to be good.”

“People like me?” Jaehyun twists slightly to glare widely at Taehyung. “How dare you even judge others, Kim Daeseong, when you’re so depraved, so—”

“I judge liars.” Taehyung walks to stand by Jaehyun's side, leaning into his space. “No… no, I pity you for not accepting your true self.” 

Holding his breath, Yoongi watches Taehyung’s smile bloom again as he drapes himself against Jaehyun’s back, arms wrapped around the man’s waist, mouth grazing over the shell of Jaehyun’s ear. “But I can help you. I can make you realize just how similar we are. How good it would feel to accept your call—”

“Shut up,” Jaehyun hisses, trembling like a leaf, cheeks red. “I’m not like you.”

“Didn’t it feel good to kill him?” Taehyung’s voice melts into a moan, eyes falling closed, hands gripping the folds of Jaehyun’s robes tighter. “To have your hands warm with his blood? To watch the life leave his eyes.”

Yoongi swallows.

“ Stop it! ” Jaehyun screams, but he doesn’t push Taehyung away. “It did not feel—it was disgusting!”

“Don’t lie. He deserved it. Men like him always do.” Taehyung breathes in and sighs. He noses over the side of Jaehyun’s neck, lips rubbing at the line of his jaw. “I can make it feel even better…I can make you feel bliss , Jaehyun, if only you'd let go—” He sighs, deep, rich, his hand curling around Jaehyun’s throat. “Then I’d make you feel even better.”

Yoongi grips the chair’s armrests hard enough that his fingertips start hurting, ‘cause what the fuck was that?

Jaehyun suddenly thrashes, the table creaking and sliding across the stage. He swings his arm back, and Taehyung dodges the blow with a snort.

“You—” Jaehyun shouts, his voice carrying across the theater with so much hatred and fear Yoongi kind of shivers. “You deserve hell , Kim Daeseong!”

Then he rushes off stage, leaving Taehyung alone as the lights go dark again. When they turn on again they light up the entire theater and the empty stage, signaling the end of the first act.

Yoongi blinks and feels himself sink into the seat. He hadn’t even realized how on edge he’d been until now.

“You good?” Namjoon asks at one point.

“Sure.” 

Around them, some people get out of their seats to grab some air, or to stop by the bathrooms. Yoongi almost feels inclined to follow them outside and just… stare at a wall or something.

“You’re sure?” Namjoon asks him again, this time with a raised eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Your face is red.”

Oh.

“It’s hot in here.”

Namjoon’s eyebrow raises even higher. “Uh-huh.” Then he leans in closer and, quietly, he says, “Nothing bad in admitting—”

“Shut the fuck up, how about that?” 

Namjoon blinks. Then his mouth opens, comically large, and way too loudly he exclaims, “Oh, shit, you did realize you’re—”

Yoongi immediately slaps a hand against Namjoon’s mouth, glaring at him with vengeance. Behind Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok turn to them with a frown, but soon start talking among each other again, not paying them any mind.

“Fucking fine, yes, I did realize,” Yoongi whispers, pulling away his hand with a grimace. “Did you fucking lick me?”

“Dude, you’re the one who punched me in the mouth while I was in the middle of a sentence.” Namjoon sighs. “So?”

“So what?”

“What are you gonna do?”

Right.

Yoongi turns to look pointedly at the empty stage. “Well, for starters I’ll fuck him tonight.”

“You what?”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s what he asked me to do since we met.”

“Okay. Right, but that was before you knew you had feelings for him.” Namjoon’s voice is very quiet but Yoongi can’t help but notice the urgency in his tone. “So, like, maybe this isn’t the best plan?”

“Look, how long has it been since I liked someone? Ages. And how long since I actually had sex with someone? Just as long. So I’ve been thinking these past days—”

“Oh, this can’t be good.”

“Maybe I just need to scratch this itch.”

“I’m surrounded by fucking idiots, my god,” Namjoon groans, slumping in the chair. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this.”

“I’ve been wanting to sleep with him for a while now, and he’s been wanting it for even longer,” Yoongi says. He’s trying his best to sound confident but, even to his ears, his words sound a lot like an excuse. “It’s not like I can have anything more from this anyway.”

“You don’t know that,” Namjoon replies with a sigh, and he’s rubbing his face now. “Can’t you two just fucking talk? You’re both adults, just talk, be honest, he might feel the same.”

“He doesn’t.”

Namjoon throws his head back, staring at the ceiling with an almost hysterical grin on his face. “I’m going to lose it.”

“He still pays me.”

That makes Namjoon halt. Slowly, he looks at Yoongi with a far more somber expression.

“He doesn’t even hesitate, you know? He does it without a problem.” Yoongi smiles. “Meanwhile I haven’t been able to touch that money in weeks.”

“Oh.” Namjoon sends a—weird glance toward Jungkook, who’s still chatting with Hoseok. “But he said—”

“Mh?”

“No. No, nothing, forget it.” Namjoon shakes his head, face set in what looks like an uncomfortable twist. “I still think you should just talk.”

Yoongi shrugs.

Yeah, they should. Except that Yoongi can’t shake off the fear that, if he were to tell Taehyung about his feelings, then Taehyung would reject him. Because he would, wouldn’t he? Taehyung is—he’s beautiful and great, and he’s talented, with a job he loves. He could have anyone. The only thing he lacked was confidence when it came to intimacy and by now that’s been fixed. 

Yoongi is sure that it won’t be long before Taehyung meets someone new and cuts things off with Yoongi. 

Before he can tell Namjoon exactly that, the lights dim once more, and some people start hurrying back to their seats.

Yoongi leans back in his chair and waits for the second act to begin.

“I’m gonna be honest, I was not expecting all that gore at the end,” Jungkook says.

“Me neither!” Hoseok grins. “I almost vomited.”

“Wow.”

“I’m sensitive to fake blood.”

Yoongi snorts, half-listening to Namjoon’s ongoing review of the play, the importance of queer theater, and a whole other list of things that Yoongi doesn’t have the mental capacity to handle right now.

They’re waiting for Jimin and Taehyung at the back door of the theater. The crowd has long left, but the main actors had to stay around for a round of interviews for theater magazines and blogs. Jimin had texted them earlier to just be patient for a while.

Eventually, the door opens and Jimin walks out with a wide smile, followed by Taehyung. 

“That went well, I’d say!” Jimin says before letting himself be swaddled by Hoseok’s arms. 

“You guys did great,” Jungkook exclaims, hugging Taehyung first, then Jimin. “Loved the blood.”

“I did not.” Taehyung sighs. “Took me ages to wash it off.”

“Yeah, no, you were covered in it.”

Taehyung hums, then his eyes fall on Yoongi. Yoongi freezes for a moment, then Taehyung smiles this huge, square smile of his, and—fuck, he’s in trouble.

“You came,” Taehyung says as he walks closer to him, fixing the strap of a sports bag over his shoulder.

“Of course I did.” Yoongi smiles. “You did very well.”

Taehyung’s smile just grows. How is that even possible? “I’m really glad you made it, hyung.”

Silence settles.

It’s awkward as shit and Yoongi is so aware of the eyes on him that he starts to sweat under his jacket.

Jimin is the one who breaks it by loudly saying, “Wow, I am beat! Can’t wait to hit the bed.”

Jungkook frowns. “No after-show junk food?”

“I’m too tired.” 

“But it’s tradition!”

Jimin slowly turns to send a pointed glare at Jungkook. “I said. I’m tired.” He—discreetly? kind of?—nods towards Taehyung. “So I think we should all go home now .”

Jungkook’s eyes go wide with what Yoongi can only describe as enlightenment. “Yes,” he says. “We should.”

“Absolutely, oh my god, it’s getting late,” Hoseok adds in a deadpan voice.

Yoongi glances at Taehyung with a frown. In Taehyung’s defense, he looks absolutely mortified.

So they start bidding goodbyes, promising that they’re definitely going to have a celebratory dinner during the weekend. Before leaving with Jungkook, Namjoon pats Yoongi’s shoulder twice and whispers, “Be smart.”

“Fuck off,” Yoongi retorts. Namjoon just sighs.

He and Taehyung watch the rest of the group live, splitting at some point down the road, Jungkook with Namjoon and Jimin with Hoseok.

Silence.

Taehyung clears his voice. “Should we head—”

“Do you wanna grab something to drink?”

Taehyung blinks a few times, seemingly surprised. “Huh?”

Yoongi shrugs. “It’s not that late. I’m sure there are some places that are still open.”

“That’s—are you sure?”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Yoongi smiles. “Let me buy you something to drink. In celebration of a successful show.”

Taehyung looks at him for a few moments, eyes wide and face slack. Then he smiles, slow and quiet, like it’s something secret, just for him.

Fuck.

“I’d like that,” Taehyung says. 

“Gonna be honest, when I mentioned drinks I meant booze.”

Taehyung looks at him as they walk, holding onto his huge (absolutely ridiculously so) cup of boba. “Bars are too crowded on a Friday night, though.”

Yoongi snorts. “I’m not complaining. You and I both know I like tea.” He takes a sip of his own jasmine milk tea, tapioca pearls chewy and sweet on his tongue.

They walk in silence for a while, the streets are crowded and brightly lit in neon purple and blue, acid green LED signs hanging off the entrances of clubs and bars. It’s lively and loud, but in a way that doesn’t make him uncomfortable.

“I used to come here a lot back in college,” Yoongi says then. 

“Really?”

“Lots of cheap bars for broke students.”

Taehyung grins. “Yeah, that’s true. I also came here often when I was studying, but I never thought I’d end up working so close to this street.”

“Where did you study?”

Taehyung rubs his cheek with one finger. “Academy of performing arts.”

Yoongi almost trips. “Oh, wow.”

“Don’t.”

“Isn’t that, like—super exclusive?”

Taehyung grimaces. “It’s not that exclusive.”

“You literally have to pass a round of auditions to even be considered. Even I know this.” Yoongi adds, “And it’s also fucking expensive.”

“Yeah, but I was on scholarship, so—”

“You won a scholarship to one of the most exclusive academies in the world and you just—say that like it’s no big deal?” 

Taehyung rolls his eyes with a pleased smile, cheeks a little red. “I worked hard.”

“You did.” Yoongi nods to himself. “It shows.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung laughs, a little breathless. “I don’t know about that. I’m happy with how my career is going but I can’t help being—insecure. Maybe that’s not the right word. I just feel like I still have a lot to improve.”

They end up in a small park, lit by iron-wrought streetlamps and crowded with college students and kiosks. So they sit at a bench, drinking their boba quietly for a bit. 

“If you were to improve even more I fear you’d become so famous it would be hard to even speak to you,” Yoongi says eventually.

Taehyung snorts, then kicks at his ankle playfully. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I mean it.”

“Says the successful producer. I looked into it, you know? You made some of the biggest songs of the last five years.”

“Yes, but I’m not a known face like you.”

“Doesn’t matter. If we were to compare, you’re the celebrity.”

“Then let’s not compare.” Yoongi shakes his head. “Still, congratulations on the opening night. You all did great.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung says with a sigh. “It went well. I’m glad.”

“Are you worried about reviews?”

“Oh, they’ll eat us alive, the show is gory and queer.” Taehyung grins. “That’s also the fun part, though.”

A girl comes rushing by, running past them with her arms out before she throws herself at a friend, shrieking out a burst of loud laughter as they stumble back. 

Taehyung looks at them for a moment, then he starts slurping at his boba again, humming happily as he drinks.

Yoongi looks at him. His profile looks…different in this light. Softer. Younger, almost.

He wonders if this could become a routine, maybe. Not—he doesn’t expect dates, but something similar. Something easy, and quiet, where he gets to buy Taehyung something just in exchange for his company. 

Not that he’d be against dating, but that’s just not realistic, is it?

Then he sees Taehyung shudder, and as he does he wraps his arms tight around his middle. 

“Are you cold?” Yoongi asks.

“Kinda.”

He hums. In a quiet voice, with a warm impatience simmering, he says, “Then should we go?”

Taehyung’s breath hitches, eyes heavy. With his voice just as quiet, Taehyung answers, “Yes, please.”

Taehyung is quiet tonight.

This isn’t weird, Yoongi knows that Taehyung tends to be quiet during the scenes and especially at the beginning. It’s probably part of his process to get into the right headspace, to slip into a place of submission.

The thing is, tonight Taehyung is quieter .

He didn’t say a word when Yoongi directed him to the bed, telling him to lay on his back over the thick, blue blanket he covered the bed with. Even when Yoongi put the collar on him, Taehyung didn’t make a sound. Kept his mouth shut when Yoongi secured his wrists into the padded cuffs linked to one of the two spreader bars he prepared earlier while Taehyung was in the shower. And now, as Yoongi closes the second pair of sturdy cuffs around Taehyung’s ankles, he just breathes in slowly and silently. Yoongi glances at him, keeping his eyes on him as he tugs the spreader bar apart, forcing Taehyung’s legs to open. A gasp is all Taehyung gives him, eyes wide.

“Color.”

“Green,” Taehyung whispers.

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. “You’re sure?”

Taehyung nods. 

Yoongi gets off the bed and walks to the side of the bed. “You’re very quiet.”

Taehyung blinks but he stays silent for a few more seconds. “I’m green.”

“But something’s on your mind.”

At this, Taehyung looks past Yoongi, at the drawer. Yoongi turns around to see what it is that has Taehyung’s attention and—

“Ah, I see.” Grinning, Yoongi looks at the two red candles, flames steady and small. “You’ve been wanting this for a while, haven’t you?”

Taehyung looks away, cheeks dusted pink, and he chews on his bottom lip. One of the candles is inside a pitcher, red wax dripping along the length and into the small bowl. The other one is held securely into a small candle holder for easy and quick access.

“Excited?”

Quietly, Taehyung admits, “Yes, hyung.”

“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a bit longer.” Grabbing the lube, Yoongi walks back to the bed and kneels on the mattress. He taps on Taehyung’s ankle. “Lift your legs up.”

He waits for Taehyung to do so, the spreader bar lifting up from the bed as Taehyung brings his knees close to his chest. 

The bar isn’t that heavy, but it will inevitably become a strain on Taehyung’s muscles the longer he keeps it up; which is what Yoongi wants. 

“I don’t think that’s the only thing you’re excited about,” Yoongi says, coating his fingers in lube and warming it up. “Am I wrong?”

He hears Taehyung swallow. “You’re not.”

Yoongi prods at Taehyung’s hole with his fingers before carefully pushing inside. Taehyung’s breathing hitches, his ass tightening. Slowly, Yoongi pulls his finger out, then back inside, this time sliding in deeper. The lube is slick around his finger when he pours more directly over Taehyung’s hole, pushing it inside in slow, measured thrusts. 

“I wonder if you’re going to be this tight around my cock, too,” he says, and that alone is enough to have his dick hardening in his trousers. Taehyung groans, knees trying uselessly to push together, the bar keeping his ankles too apart for him to move much. “You tell me.”

“W-what?” Taehyung’s voice cracks for a moment when a second, slick finger pushes inside him.

“I want you to tell me if you’ll be tight for me.” 

Taehyung doesn’t answer him immediately. Almost gives him no reaction, but Yoongi can tell that it turned him on: he’s gone tighter again around his fingers, and his cock, half-hard without having even touched him, twitches, bobbing over his belly.

“So?” Yoongi urges and, as he pulls his fingers out, he crooks them to press along his walls. 

Taehyung shivers, voice unsteady when he says, “I’ll—be tight for hyung’s cock.”

“Good boy,” Yoongi says, smiling to himself. He pushes his fingers back inside, crooking them again. Taehyung moans at this, the sound of it unsteady. “What else?”

“What—else?” Taehyung asks, then whines when Yoongi circles around his prostate, the pressure steady and constant. “ Hyung —”

“You’ve been fantasizing about it for so long, surely you must have some ideas. So I want you to tell me.” Yoongi doesn’t move away from the spot he’s been teasing, stroking with the pads of his fingers, feeling Taehyung’s hole fluttering around him. Taehyung’s legs tremble for a moment, another high moan dragged out of him. “How will you be for me?”

There’s a clink of chains, but the spreader bar at his wrists is fixed to the bed’s headboard so that, too, is useless. Taehyung whimpers, gasping when Yoongi’s fingers add pressure in the same spot. “F-fuck, that’s too—”

“If you don’t answer me I’ll just make you come like this, and we can call it a day.”

“No,” Taehyung whines, shifting his hips on the bed. “‘m sorry, just—can’t think straight if— haah —you keep going.”

In response, Yoongi just fucks his fingers into him faster, keeping them crooked as he drags them out and snorting under his breath when Taehyung’s cock jerks up, wet at the tip.

“ However hyung wants me, ” Taehyung gasps, his voice caught in a moan. “Whatever—hyung wants, I’ll be that. G-gonna take you so-so well, I’ll be good. Tight. W-wet.”

Yoongi breathes out, pleased and satisfied with the answer. “That’s right, good boy,” he croons, finally easing the pace of his fingers. He keeps fucking into him at a much less intense speed, avoiding his prostate and focusing on loosening and slicking up his hole, lube trickling down between his cheeks. “You’re going to make me feel good, won’t you?”

“Yes, please,” Taehyung breathes out, hips rutting down against Yoongi’s hand, chasing his fingers. “Wanna make hyung come.”

Fuck.

Yoongi swallows hard, his throat clicking audibly. He’s glad Taehyung’s legs make it so Taehyung can’t see him as he reaches for his crotch, squeezing at his cock through the fabric of his pants. 

When he adds a third finger— Taehyung’s hole stretched around his fingers and shiny with lube— he almost groans out loud, barely managing to keep quiet. Taehyung moans deeply, cock fully hard over his belly, legs trembling as his toes curl. He fucks Taehyung with his fingers keeping that same slow but steady pace, occasionally brushing over his prostate just to hear him whine and to feel how tight he gets. 

Maybe he takes more time than usual, but he needs the candles to melt a bit and be warm enough for what will come next. Plus, it’s fun to play with Taehyung when he’s already this hard and worked up.

Or maybe Yoongi just wants to watch him like this: turned on, squirmy, flushed, warm for him, because of him, and beautiful, just so—

Yoongi closes his eyes for a moment and breathes. 

Once he pulls his fingers out, Taehyung’s hole clenches around nothing and his legs start lowering. Yoongi lands a dry slap on Taehyung’s inner thigh and says, “Who said you could move them?”

“Sorry,” Taehyung breathes out, lifting his legs again. They’re trembling now, he must be starting to struggle with the weight of the spreader bar.

And really, Yoongi’s just being an asshole for the sake of it, but there’s just something so goddamn alluring about him when his body struggles with something, so— “Lift them up more for me.”

After a moment, Taehyung does, knees closer to his chest, his feet rising in the air, spreader bar dangling from his ankles. 

“What a good boy,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning in to lick a long stripe along the back of Taehyung’s trembling thigh while fucking into him with his fingers again, slow and deep.

“ A-ah , hyung, feels g-good,” Taehyung moans, and then swallows audibly before letting out another long, deep noise. “C-can’t—if you keep touching there I’m gonna come.”

“So soon?” Yoongi bites on Taehyung’s thigh, cock stirring when Taehyung whimpers at the sting. “No, you said you’d be good.” His fingers press against Taehyung’s prostate, dragging another shaky moan out of him, and fuck, he sounds so good. “And you want me to fuck you, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Taehyung gasps, hips shifting clumsily. 

“Hyung wants to fuck you too, so you have to be good.” He kisses down Taehyung’s thigh, fingers thrusting in deeply, harder, until Taehyung’s breath hitches and his voice raises in pitch. “You’re so hot inside, you’re going to feel incredible.”

Taehyung’s cock jerks, and a quiet, almost shy whine slips out. 

But Yoongi can feel, now, that Taehyung is tensing up, his muscles are drawn taut, his belly clenching—trying to hold back, just as Yoongi wants him, and even his breaths start evening out, deeper and slower despite the almost cruel, teasing way Yoongi’s fingers keep brushing over his prostate with each thrust.

He’s trying so hard for him, and it feels fucking good to have Taehyung so obedient for him, only for him—

“Like that, pretty,” Yoongi sighs, and again he has to reach for his own cock, squeezing it hard. “You’re doing well.”

Taehyung murmurs something, maybe a thank you, but his voice is unsteady, thick as he tightens around Yoongi’s fingers, legs shaking.

Yoongi’s pushing it, maybe.

So he slowly pulls his fingers out, grinning at the relieved sigh Taehyung makes once he’s empty. His legs stay up, though, despite how much he’s struggling with the weight of the bar.

Quickly, Yoongi reaches for the vibrator. This one is a new addition, bought specifically for today’s scene. He slicks it up with lube, feeling the smooth silicone and the two knobs at the base, and then up to the small nubs over the curved, rounded tip. 

“Going to fill you up, keep your legs still,” Yoongi says as he slowly starts pushing the toy inside. The tip especially is big enough that Taehyung’s hole stretches around it before swallowing the toy inside, and he groans softly at the pressure. As it keeps sliding in, Taehyung’s body shudders, toes curling. The first knob pushes past the rim, lube squelching, then the second one.

“ Oh, fuck —” Taehyung moans, his back arching slightly. 

“Look at you, taking it so well.” Yoongi pushes the vibrator inside to its base and lets go of it to thumb around Taehyung’s hole, pressing down. “You’re not allowed to come, remember that.” 

“Y-yes, hyung.”

Yoongi hums. For now, he doesn’t turn it on. Instead, he gets off the bed and walks to the drawer to grab the blindfold, a silken, padded mask that will cover Taehyung’s eyes completely. 

“Color?” He asks as he steps by the side of the bed, showing Taehyung the item.

Taehyung swallows visibly, a sheen of sweat over his throat and chest. “Green.”

Yoongi puts the blindfold over Taehyung’s eyes, fixing the elastic band behind his head. “This is to make sure no wax gets in your eyes, okay?”

“Okay,” Taehyung whispers and his voice has gone breathy, light. 

Yoongi arches an eyebrow. They haven’t used blindfolds that often, but maybe they should have played with sensory deprivation more, it seems to do it for Taehyung. He makes a mental note of that and takes a step back, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against the wall. “You can lower your legs.”

Taehyung does so eagerly, dropping his legs. But just as he stretches them over the bed, a surprised moan escapes him, and his hips lift off the mattress in a flinch. “ Ah-haah —”

Yoongi grins. “Is the toy touching a nice spot?”

Taehyung bites his lips and his hips shift, trying to find a position to lay in that might shift the vibrator’s angle. Yoongi clicks his tongue and Taehyung freezes.

“That’s right, stop moving.” He goes to sit at the side of the bed and rests a hand on Taehyung’s belly, pressing down gently. Taehyung whines with a flinch but doesn’t move other than that. “Although, even if you move it won’t change much.” 

Taehyung doesn’t reply, too busy swallowing down short, quick sounds of pleasure. The toy is shaped so that it presses against the most sensitive spots and Yoongi imagines that, even though it’s not even on, the sensation must be intense. He takes the time to look at Taehyung’s body, at the flush that sits so prettily on his cheeks and chest, and then down to his cock, hard and twitching, a bead of precum at the tip. And then his legs, which are trembling almost non-stop after he had to keep them up with the spreader bar for so long.

“Look at you,” Yoongi murmurs, a hot weight settling on his chest as he strokes over Taehyung’s thigh. “Shaking so much.” He dips his hand down, to reach around the toy and stroke around Taehyung’s entrance, the pads of his fingers slick with lube. “If you look like this just from that toy, by the time I fuck you you’re going to be a mess.”

“Fuck, please,” Taehyung whines, hips lifting off the mattress for a second. “Hyung, please .”

Yoongi hums before he grabs Taehyung’s cockhead and starts kneading it roughly, hard. Taehyung lets out a loud whimper, his wrists straining against the cuffs.

“I told you not to move.”

“ Sorry —”

“Don’t make me repeat myself another time.”

“I won’t, I—fuck, hurts ,” Taehyung moans, words spoken so fast they almost slur together as Yoongi keeps rubbing his fingers roughly over his cockhead. “Won’t move a-again, hurts, don’t—gonna come—”

“Ah, right.” Yoongi pulls away his hand, watching with a wave of arousal as Taehyung’s cock twitches over his belly, now slick with lube and precum. “Can’t even punish you properly, with how much of a painslut you are.” 

Taehyung makes a noise at this, the flush on his cheeks goes deeper. “‘m sorry.”

“For what?”

Taehyung swallows. “For being a painslut.”

Yoongi breathes in. It’s almost unfair how perfect Taehyung is for him. Had they been less compatible, maybe Yoongi wouldn’t be here with a fucking mess of feelings he can’t make sense of and the most annoying boner of his life.

He needs to get a move on or there’s no way he’ll be able to hold back for much longer. And, shit, since when was he this impatient anyway?

“You’re fucking ruining me,” Yoongi murmurs, almost without realizing.

“What?” Taehyung’s head tilts in his direction. “I—”

“Ssh, you’re alright, don’t worry. You’re doing well, ignore what I said.” Yoongi clears his throat and stands up again to go check on the candles.

He might also need to get a fucking grip since he’s at it. And focus. 

Firstly, Yoongi moves to the end of the bed to click the spreader bar’s chains to the bed’s feet; once Taehyung hears the metal noise of the links clicking closed he lets out a small gasp. Immediately, he tries pulling back his legs and, once it hits him that there’s no way for him to move them anymore, he shudders visibly, stomach clenching and cock jerking over his belly. 

Yoongi hums deep in his chest, delighted to see such a nice reaction when he’s barely done anything. He smooths his palms over Taehyung’s knees, up to his thighs. “So worked up just ‘cause you can’t move anymore,” he says softly, fingers dipping down between Taehyung’s legs to prod at the base of the toy. “Good slut.”

“Thank you,” Taehyung breathes out, voice trembling as Yoongi plays with the toy, pushing it in deeper and moving it around carefully. 

Yoongi moves back to the dresser, where the candles are. These are made specifically for scenes like this, and he’s used this brand for a long time. He trusts that the melting temperature is low enough not to burn skin, but he still takes the first candle stick to pour a drop of melted wax over his wrist. It’s warm, and it stings, but it’s safe; Yoongi bites back a hiss at the feeling, making sure he makes no sound even when he moves closer to the bed.

For a few moments, he takes in the sight of Taehyung, laying in his bed all chained up for him, exposed and vulnerable, hard and panting because of it. 

Holding his breath, hot with arousal, Yoongi lets wax drip over Taehyung’s stomach.

He held the candle stick from high enough that, by the time the wax hits Taehyung’s skin, it will have cooled a little and so the sensation won’t be too intense.

Still, the moment the first few drops of wax paint his skin, Taehyung gasps harshly and sucks in his stomach, cock twitching hard.

“Green?” Yoongi asks.

“ Yes, ” Taehyung replies with a breathless hitch. “Yes, don’t—don’t stop.”

Yoongi swallows, lips stretching into a satisfied, sated smile. There’s sweat at the base of his neck, and an almost dull, burning ache where his cock is hard and untouched. 

He wants Taehyung spent, shaking, and begging for him by the time he fucks him, wants to hear him moan out his fucking name.

Yoongi tilts the candle, making sure the flame isn’t burning the melt instead of melting it, and moves it across Taehyung’s stomach in a circle, watching red wax dripping into fat drops over his tanned, flushed skin.

Taehyung whines at first, but then he’s whimpering and hissing the more warm wax drops on him, toes curling and wrists straining against his cuffs, elbows pulling inward as if he’s trying to pull himself up, away.

“Hyung,” Taehyung keens, chest heaving. “Feels—good, I like it.”

“Of course you do,” Yoongi comments lightly as he lowers the candle, this time dropping wax upwards, between Taehyung’s pecs. “Everything that hurts feels good for you.”

Taehyung thrashes for a moment when the wax trails in the middle of his chest, then cries out deep and long, cock twitching and leaking over his belly. “ Hot —”

Yoongi hums, aware that now that the distance between the candle and his body is less, the wax will also have less time to cool before it starts hardening over his skin. “Doesn’t hurt that much, does it?”

“N-no.” 

“Want it to burn more?”

“ Please, yes .” Taehyung swallows, hips now grinding in small, clumsy jerks. “More.”

So Yoongi kneels on the mattress, tilting the candle— he whispers, “What a good boy.” And then he lets the wax drip until Taehyung can’t stop moaning.

Taehyung looks—honestly, Yoongi’s self-control is starting to hang on a very fine thread.

They’ve been at it for a while now, and Taehyung’s body is reacting to everything .

He arches and cries out when the wax melts and hardens over his chest and clavicles, trembles with barely held sobs when Yoongi moves the candle closer to his belly, his body pliant and yielding until it goes taut like a string, muscles clenched and sweat trailing down his temples and neck. For a while, now, he’s been grinding into the toy, clenching around it, desperate for something, anything, cock so hard it barely has any give when it twitches, precum pooling over his skin. 

Yoongi flicks away a cluster of hardened wax from Taehyung’s chest and he whimpers, then moans when Yoongi pushes his thumb over the reddened, sensitive skin the wax touched.

Even when Yoongi isn’t doing anything to him, Taehyung’s body doesn’t relax nor does it stop shuddering, and his voice keeps coming out in these light, overwhelmed little moans that are absolutely wrecking Yoongi’s patience. 

Still, he holds back.

He puts the candle back on the dresser, a good portion of the wax stick gone, and moves to the end of the bed, kneeling on the mattress between Taehyung’s parted legs and on top of the spreader bar, keeping it pinned under his weight.

“Give me your color,” Yoongi says, stroking up Taehyung’s inner thigh.

“Green,” Taehyung whines, hips jerking up at Yoongi’s touch. “ Hyung .”

“Mmh, I’m here,” he answers, still stroking his thigh soothingly, slowly and subtly moving his hand lower between his legs. 

“Please?” Taehyung pleads with a sweet, alluring tone. “Wanna—’m so hard. Hurts.”

“‘s that so?” Yoongi grins to himself, chest warm with fondness. Fucking little vixen, this one. Yoongi needs to accept that he’s truly weak to Taehyung’s attempts at seducing him into giving him what he wants. “Poor baby.”

This makes Taehyung let out a quiet, almost embarrassed sound, brows furrowed from above the line of the blindfold. 

“You want to come?” Yoongi asks, fingers just shy of the vibrator’s base.

Taehyung says, “ Yes .”

“No.” Yoongi pushes the toy’s button and it immediately starts vibrating.

Taehyung thrashes, a moan so loud he chokes on it, toes curling and the chains of the spreader bar and the cuffs at his wrists clink together.

“No, nonono ,” Taehyung whines, shuddering. “Gonna come—”

“It’s not even at the highest setting,” Yoongi muses as he presses the button twice more, vibrations stronger, louder. Taehyung’s hole clenches, lube squeezed out and trailing down his skin, shiny and slick. “You’re gonna be good, and hold it.”

“C-can’t, ‘s touchin’—feels too good.” Taehyung squirms and he tries squeezing his knees closer despite the bar spreading his legs. 

“I’m not giving you a choice, am I?” Yoongi flicks at Taehyung’s balls, groaning softly when Taehyung hiccups and his cock twitches. “So sensitive, what are you gonna do, mh?”

Taehyung rubs his face against his forearm, and there are tears slipping down his cheeks from underneath the blindfold. Yoongi looks at them and almost crawls on top of him to lick them away. “G-gonna hold i-it.”

“That’s right, good boy.” He leans down to press a kiss to Taehyung’s knee, then gets off the bed.

Yoongi walks back to the drawer and, this time, he grabs the pitcher. There’s a good amount of melted wax there, and he moves the pitcher above the other candle’s flame to warm it up and make sure that even the wax at the bottom of the pitch is fully melted. 

Behind him, Taehyung is panting, every breath a strained moan. Yoongi can hear the rustling of the thick blanket he’s laying on as he squirms, the noise of the fine chains, and the whirring of the toy. At one point, Taehyung groans deeply and wrecked and Yoongi has to squeeze at his cock through the fabric of his pants, stroking lightly over the length.

He really—he needs to fuck him. It’s almost fucking concerning just how badly he wants to.

Yoongi decides the wax is warm enough and walks back to the bed, standing by the side. “Color.”

“Fuck, green,” Taehyung heaves, thighs trembling. “Please, please —”

Yoongi tips the pitcher and the wax pours down into a thin stripe over Taehyung’s chest, down on his nipples. And now Taehyung is loud , voice cracking—his hips lift off the bed, cock jerking, every muscle drawn taut. 

“So good for me,” Yoongi moans, moving the pitcher and watching as the wax drips down his chest, stomach, and low to Taehyung’s belly. 

When it lands there, warm enough that it trickles down to the base of his cock before cooling, Taehyung’s hips jerk up, cock slapping over his skin and wax, and Taehyung makes a sound so fucking heavy and guttural Yoongi’s dick throbs.

“ Hurts, ” Taehyung moans. “Fuck—burns, gonna— so close, please—”

“Fuck, Taehyung.” Yoongi puts the pitcher back on top of the drawer and blows out the candles before he nearly rushes to kneel between Taehyung’s legs. He strokes over Taehyung’s stomach, blunt nails scratching at the wax until it pulls off. “So good for me.”

Taehyung whimpers, body arching under Yoongi’s touch. “Hyung, please—”

“You wanna come, pretty?” Yoongi leans over him, bracing himself on one hand as he reaches for the toy with the other one, fingers finding the second, smaller button. 

“Yes,” Taehyung gasps, knees pressing against Yoongi’s hips. “Can I?”

Yoongi hums. “You won’t have a choice anyway.” Then, he presses the smaller button.

For a few moments, Taehyung doesn’t make a sound. His mouth opens and nothing comes out, but the rest of him comes alive—he arches harshly, legs and arms pulling hard against the restraints. It’s only when Yoongi pushes that same small button again that Taehyung starts crying out, hoarse, high, so wrecked and overwhelmed it’s like he’s suffering through the pleasure.

“ Ah—haah —too g-good, gonna—” Taehyung moans wetly, head thrown against the pillow. 

“Is it touching somewhere nice?” Yoongi asks as he rubs his palm over Taehyung’s belly. “Can you feel it?”

Taehyung shakes his head fast. “F-feel weird, I feel—” He swallows, then whimpers when Yoongi pushes down on his belly. 

There’s a second set of motors in the vibrator, right at the swollen, curved tip, meant to stimulate directly on the prostate. He didn’t know how effective it was going to be, but it seems to do the job just right.

“Such a good slut,” Yoongi croons, nosing along Taehyung’s neck, feeling him shiver under him. “You want to come?”

“ Please ,” Taehyung sobs, shuddering beneath him, wrists bruised a pretty pink with how hard he’s pulling at the cuffs. “Hyung, t-tell me I can, please—’s too much, please!”

Yoongi reaches between them, to take Taehyung’s cock in his hand, wet and hot to the touch. “Come for me.”

It takes a moment for Taehyung to let go, and he does it with a noise so fucking broken it has Yoongi shuddering with him as he strokes Taehyung’s cock, fist tight and slick around him. It gets too much too fast—between Yoongi’s hand and the vibrator, Taehyung’s orgasm burns hard and he starts shaking with overstimulation, his moans strained and garbled.

Yoongi is quick to turn off the toy and settle back between Taehyung’s legs, shushing him quietly as he strokes over his trembling legs. “Good boy, just breathe. You feel good, yeah? Just relax.”

“Good,” Taehyung whines, squirming as he begins to settle down. “Felt good.”

“Mmh, that’s right.” Yoongi undoes the cuffs of the spreader bar, and massages Taehyung’s ankles for a few minutes, letting him catch his breath and come down from his orgasm. Once his breathing evens out, Yoongi asks, “Want me to take off your blindfold?”

Taehyung nods after a moment, so Yoongi leans over him to pull it off. He stays in that position, watching as Taehyung blinks a few times and then looks at him with heavy, reddened eyes, misty and wet, pupils so dark Yoongi feels as if he’s sinking into him for a second.

“Still with me?” Yoongi asks.

“Yeah.” Taehyung licks his lips, glancing at Yoongi’s mouth. “Can we—?”

Yoongi grins. “Can we?”

Taehyung huffs, frowning. “Do I have to say it?”

“Yes.” Yoongi braces himself on one elbow and strokes Taehyung’s bottom lip with his thumb. All red and swollen, like he’s been biting them to bruise. “You need to tell me so that I know what you want.”

Taehyung breathes in, staring at Yoongi. Slowly, his legs move to press faintly against Yoongi’s hips and, quietly, he says, “I want hyung to kiss me. Please .”

If Yoongi was going to be gentle about it, that flies out of the window the second Taehyung begs.

He kisses him too hard, maybe. He’s not sure why he can’t control himself now.

Scratch that shit, he does know. That’s the scary part, he knows why.

Taehyung sighs into his mouth, tongue wet against his as he lets Yoongi kiss him deep and slow, knees pressing harder against his hips.

And Yoongi feels it again, that nasty possessiveness of his—like a thirst that can’t be sated, he wishes he could swallow Taehyung whole, to keep him to this bed for the rest of the fucking night, soft and warm and fucked out, with his lips pretty and red for him, so easy to kiss and easier to bite and tease with his tongue. 

Taehyung’s breath hitches, his lips slot wetly against his. 

Yoongi lets his hand wander over Taehyung’s chest, blunt nails digging into the skin and pulling off cooled wax just to hear Taehyung whine against his lips. 

“Fuck me,” Taehyung whispers then, chasing after Yoongi’s mouth. “Please, fuck me.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi swallows and leans down to kiss him one more time. “You want me?”

Taehyung nods fast, eyelids heavy. “So bad, I’ve wanted hyung for so—” He pauses to whine when he feels Yoongi’s hand reaching between his legs. “Want you inside me.”

Fuck, Yoongi’s going to die.

He pulls away from Taehyung so that he can start tugging the toy out of him. He’s careful with it, knowing that with how sensitive he is now, Taehyung might be uncomfortable. There’s a hiss that comes when the swollen tip of the vibrator catches around his rim, but then he’s empty, hole clenching around nothing, lube dripping out.

Under Taehyung’s not-so-subtle gaze, Yoongi undoes the buttons of his trousers and pulls out his cock, so hard that even just touching it so lightly feels good enough it steals a noise from him. Taehyung, legs spread around Yoongi’s thighs, swallows audibly. 

Yoongi wordlessly pulls a condom out of the back-pocket of his trousers. He unwraps it with quick, rushed fingers, and rolls it over his length with a hiss, then collects Taehyung’s legs to spread them further apart, allowing him to press against him. 

“Fuck,” Taehyung whispers, eyes glazed over when Yoongi’s cock rubs against his hip. “Please, please—”

“Ssh, easy.” Yoongi reaches for Taehyung’s cuffs, making quick work of them to release his wrists. “Like that.”

Taehyung makes a questioning noise, confused as to why he’s suddenly allowed to move his arms. But when Yoongi guides him into wrapping his arms around his neck, Taehyung’s eyes go wide, warm, and fucking infinite .

Almost hesitantly, Taehyung holds him tighter, closer, surging up to kiss him again, and—now it’s gentle. It’s soft.

Yoongi closes his eyes, sighing, kissing Taehyung slowly and deeply, hands roaming over his waist, hips, and down his legs that are squeezing so tight around his waist. 

This is—maybe, kind of, too much. Too good. Too right.

Too much. His chest feels like it’s going to fucking implode and, fuck, since when has he felt this strongly about someone?

Taehyung, so lost in the kiss, doesn’t notice Yoongi’s hand dipping between them, but when two fingers push into him, he breaks the kiss with a startled, high moan.

“So warm inside,” Yoongi murmurs, fingers circling around Taehyung’s prostate. 

“D-don’t,” Taehyung whimpers, grinding into his hand, his eyes wet again. “Too—sensitive.”

“Yeah? But you still want me to fuck you?” Yoongi kisses under his jaw. 

Taehyung whines, going tight around his fingers, “Yes.”

“What a good boy, gonna take me even when you’re so sensitive. Gonna feel so good for me, tight and wet.”

“ Yes ,” Taehyung moans, eyes closing as he jerks up, rubbing against Yoongi. He’s half-hard again, trembling all over. 

“How should I fuck you, then?” Yoongi fucks his fingers into him slow, deep. “Like this?”

Taehyung shudders. “ Ah-ah —y-yeah.”

“You’re gonna feel all of me like this. You want that?”

Taehyung pulls him down for another kiss. It’s wet, and sloppy, too distracted with Yoongi’s fingers to really focus, but it’s still so good, it’s fucking perfect.

“Want to feel you,” Taehyung whispers against his mouth. “All of-of you, want it so bad, please, Yoongi , just—” He freezes.

Yoongi, too, doesn’t move. 

Oh.

“I—” Taehyung blinks, face blank for a moment before a sort of panic seems to take over. “Sorry, I’m so sorr y, I didn’t mean to—”

“You can say it.”

Taehyung holds his breath. 

“My name. You can say it.” Yoongi swallows. There’s a wildfire in his chest that is burning at his lungs, and he fears he might get addicted to the feeling. “Call me whatever you want.”

Taehyung stares at him for long enough Yoongi starts to worry that he—ruined this, somehow, if he went too far, Taehyung is just tired, and overwhelmed, and he didn’t mean to use his name anyway, so—

Taehyung breathes out, shaky and heavy. He pulls Yoongi in for another kiss, short, sweet, and then— “Yoongi, please, fuck me.”

Yoongi kisses him.

Whatever tenderness had taken over before is gone. 

They’re frenzied, too harsh, kissing too fast and too wet, hands gripping each other too hard, and that’s good too, that’s something Yoongi never even knew he craved from someone.

But he wants it now. Whatever Taehyung has for him, he’ll take it without a question, be it gentle or cruel, Yoongi wants it all .

He pushes against him and feels Taehyung’s hips grinding with his, his name is being called again and he’s going to have him tonight, maybe only tonight, Yoongi doesn’t care. He needs this.

Yoongi’s selfish enough to do this. He’ll fuck Taehyung, get a taste of what it could be, scratch an itch that he’ll have to deal with for the foreseeable future and he will make it fucking enough. 

I’ll be his first , he thinks, and that must count for something.

A wave of cold hits him.

It washes over him so slowly and so wholly it feels nauseating for a moment.

He freezes.

What is he doing?

No, what is he even thinking?

His first? Him?

Taehyung doesn’t even love him. He’s just—in need of someone to do this. 

When he came to Yoongi, he was insecure, confused, and inexperienced, and now Yoongi is just going to do something so important to him? Because it matters, right? Screw what people say, the first time you have sex matters. Yoongi knows this better than anyone else, so what—what is he doing?

He made Taehyung trust him. Showed Taehyung what intimacy and submission mean, what a healthy dynamic is, helped him discover himself and now he’s going to do this to him? 

Isn’t this just taking advantage of him?

“Hyung. Yoongi?” Taehyung calls, loud. “Yoongi, what’s wrong?”

Yoongi blinks. “I can’t.”

“You—”

“Red.” Yoongi swallows, throat so tight it hurts. “I’m red.”

Taehyung’s eyes widen and he scrambles up, pushing Yoongi into a sitting position. “Hyung? Yoongi-hyung, what—did I do something wrong, what—”

Yoongi holds up a hand, staring at Taehyung’s chest. He shakes his head. “No. No, it’s not your fault. I’m just—I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”

Taehyung looks at him for a moment, then says, “No, don’t apologize for this. It’s—hyung, it’s okay, we don’t have to. You—are you alright?”

“Yes.” Yoongi frowns. “No. No, just—give me a moment.”

Taehyung nods, face full of concern, hands hesitant to touch him. Which—Yoongi actually kind of needs to touch him right now, so he takes Taehyung’s hand into his and squeezes it. 

“Hyung?” Taehyung calls softly. “Hey, it’s okay. I mean it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying that, this is—” With a sigh, Taehyung scoots closer and, carefully, wraps his arms around him. “You’re okay. You didn’t do anything wrong, it’s okay.”

Yoongi hums, closing his eyes and pressing his face in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. 

His lips are pressed to Taehyung’s collar. He feels the leather against his mouth and, for some reason, it eases some of the coldness in his lungs.

Still, there’s no mistaking this.

He made a mistake. And he was about to do something he would have never forgiven himself for.

At that moment, Yoongi is fully, completely aware that there’s no turning back from this.

He can’t do this anymore. Not when he feels so much for Taehyung.

╭─────╮

Taehyung is upset.

Not—not because he didn’t get what he wanted. Screw that, he doesn’t care about that now, that’s the last thought in his head at the moment.

He’s upset because there’s something wrong with Yoongi, and Yoongi won’t tell him what it is.

Ending the scene was a quick and awkward affair, with Yoongi insisting strongly that he was still going to clean Taehyung off, getting rid of the wax slowly and carefully while repeating, over and over, that Taehyung had done nothing wrong, that he was fine, he had been perfect, it really wasn’t him. And Taehyung believed him, and whatever anxiety he was feeling about himself dissipated under Yoongi’s gentle, steady attention.

But now, after he showered and sat on the couch, the silence is nothing short of tense.

Taehyung looks at Yoongi, who’s standing in front of the kettle, waiting for the water to boil. His face is blank, eyes focused, hands steady where they grip the counter’s edge. He almost seems relaxed, but Taehyung can tell from the stiff set of his shoulders that he’s—angry? Annoyed?

Taehyung breathes in deeply, arms tightening around himself. 

I messed up , he thinks.

Eventually, Yoongi joins him on the couch. He hands Taehyung a mug and, after a moment of hesitation, he sits next to him. For a whole, no one speaks.

Taehyung blows on the tea, but he can’t bring himself to drink any in the end. He glances at Yoongi, who’s just rubbing his thumb over the side of the cup, staring at the steaming drink. “Yoongi-hyung, are you alright?”

Yoongi blinks and turns his head to look at Taehyung. “I’m fine.” He smiles. It doesn’t look forced, but not exactly genuine either. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Right, I’m worrying anyway.” With a sigh, Taehyung puts the mug on the coffee table and sits up straight. “Listen, if— from the start, you’ve always been very clear about your boundaries, and your rules. I signed our contracts fully aware of them, and yet I never gave up on my request. I realize that it was selfish on my side, but I just—” I just really fucking like you and I’m falling in love with you. “I pressured you and I’m sorry.”

“Shit, Taehyung, it’s not—” Yoongi shakes his head and his mug joins Taehyung’s on the coffee table. He turns sideways, to face Taehyung, and he rests a hand on Taehyung’s knee. “I need you to trust me when I say what happened tonight wasn’t your fault. You never pressured me, not even once. I was the one who left the offer on the table despite knowing my own boundaries. I’m the one who acted recklessly here, not you.” 

“It’s not your fault, though,” Taehyung murmurs after a moment. “Changing your mind is fine.”

“That’s not—” Yoongi swallows. Whatever he was trying to say gets lost. “It’s no one’s fault, let’s leave it at that. But I’m the one who should have been more mindful. You were in a vulnerable position during the scene, and it’s up to me to make sure everything goes well. So if I upset you in any way, I need you to tell me. I wouldn’t want you to experience a drop after we had to cut it off so abruptly, are you—”

“Hyung, I’m fine,” Taehyung says firmly, heart fast. “I’m worried about you .”

This makes Yoongi smile again, and this time it’s softer and real. “I’m going to be okay.”

“But you’re not okay now.”

Yoongi shrugs lightly. “I just need to think some stuff through.” He wets his lips and squeezes Taehyung’s knee. “I’m sorry that I upset you like this. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even—at that moment, I really thought I could do it. That I wanted it.”

Taehyung nearly flinches. Yoongi’s words aren’t harsh—if anything, they’re spoken as softly as ever. Still, they wedge themselves painfully between Taehyung’s ribs. “But you didn’t,” Taehyung whispers. “You didn’t want it.”

Yoongi looks at him. 

He looks at him and Taehyung swears it’s in the same way Yoongi looks at him before kissing him.

“I wanted it,” Yoongi says, voice quiet. “That’s the problem.”

Taehyung leans back, frowning. Suddenly, the weight of Yoongi’s hand on his knee feels uncomfortable. “I don’t understand.”

“Honestly, I’m not sure I do either.” Yoongi heaves a deep sigh and says, “But maybe wanting something doesn’t mean you should have it. I’m sorry, Taehyung, I really—”

“I don’t like that you keep apologizing for not having sex with me.” Taehyung feels his throat tied in knots and has to look away. “That’s not what upset me.”

“No, I know. I know you wouldn’t be upset about something like that, you’re not that kind of person.” Yoongi pulls his hand away. “I’m just sorry for putting you in this situation. and making you feel as if any of this is your fault. It’s not. I just—” Rubbing a hand over his face, Yoongi says, “I think I need some time to think things through.”

Taehyung nods. 

Of course, he’s going to give Yoongi the time he needs. His feelings don’t matter at this moment, at least not to him. He just—wants Yoongi to be alright. Taehyung can deal with his issues by himself too.

But, still—

“When you say you need time to think,” Taehyung starts saying, and his voice doesn’t sound steady at all. “You mean that you don’t know if you can keep seeing me, right?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer for a few moments. Eventually, all he says is, “I’m sorry.”

“Right.” Taehyung gets up and grabs his coat. 

“Tae—”

“I’m not mad at you, hyung,” Taehyung says, looking at Yoongi. “I mean it.”

Slowly, Yoongi nods. He says, “But you’re hurt.”

“I think I’d be a lot less hurt if you told me what it is, exactly, that is making you so upset.” Taehyung shrugs on his coat, fingers fumbling with the buttons. “But I can’t force you. When you think you can tell me, then do.” He clears his throat. “And don’t—just disappear. Even if you decide you don’t want to see me anymore, please let me know.”

“I wouldn’t disappear on you,” Yoongi whispers.

“Okay.” Hesitating, Taehyung asks, “I’m not going to leave if you don’t want to be alone right now.”

With that same small, kind smile, Yoongi shakes his head. “It’s alright. You?”

“Me?”

“If you want to stay for a bit longer, then—”

“No, I’ll leave.” Taehyung then remembers the money and starts patting his pockets, searching for the envelope.

Yoongi’s eyes go wide. “ Don’t .”

Taehyung freezes. Yoongi didn’t raise his voice, but his tone was so stern that Taehyung can’t help the painful squeeze of his heart. “Oh.”

“Sorry.” Yoongi holds up a hand, eyes closing for a moment as if to collect himself. “Just don’t-don’t pay me. I don’t want your money.”

Taehyung doesn’t say anything. In the pocket of his coat, he squeezes the envelope tight, until he feels the paper crumble between his fingers.

Yoongi’s expression changes, like he’s just seen something on Taehyung’s face that hurt him. 

Taehyung can’t stand that. So he smiles and puts on a mask, that’s easy to do, it’s his job, he’s used to it. “I hope you’ll feel better soon, hyung.”

He leaves, making sure to close the door gently behind him, but then he doesn’t move. 

It’s stupid, really, but a small part of him wishes Yoongi would chase after him. Open the door and grab him and tell him that, really, there’s nothing to worry about, just a bad day, a bad scene, those can happen, everything will be back to normal the next time they meet.

But, well—of course that doesn’t happen. 

So Taehyung gets in the elevator, and then walks out of the condo, back in the cold, January’s wind biting and unforgiving. 

He doesn’t have his car. And it’s late enough that he won’t make it in time to the subway to catch the last ride.

“This is so fucking ridiculous,” he mutters to himself as he grabs his phone and calls Jimin. It rings for a while and Taehyung fears he might be asleep. But, in the end, the call connects.

“ Tae? ” Jimin asks, voice hoarse. “ Why are you calling me instead of getting dicked down? ”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Because I’m not getting dicked down, asshole.”

“ Oh. ”

“Yeah, oh. Look, can you come to get me?”

“ What the fuck did he do? ” Jimin seethes then and Taehyung can hear the bed creaking, and what sounds like Hoseok groaning. “ I’ll kill him. ”

“Nothing,” Taehyung sighs. “He didn’t do anything. That’s kind of the problem.”

“ I’ll kill him anyway. Send me your location, I’ll be there as soon as I can. ”

Taehyung ends up finding a convenience store not that far from Yoongi’s apartment, so he hides in there while he waits for Jimin. 

Sitting at the stools by the display windows, lazily chewing on a reheated corndog that tastes like it’s been sitting in that hot oven by the cash-register for nine hours, Taehyung stares at his fogged-up reflection and thinks he looks quite miserable.

Scratch that, he looks pathetic.

There’s a girl restocking the shelves behind him and, from the glass, he can see her sending him not-so-subtle concerned looks. Which, okay, he guesses that’s sweet of her but also, that’s just yet another blow to his pride.

Taehyung sighs. What a stupid fucking night.

After a while, a car comes screeching in front of the store and Taehyung hurries outside, all but sprinting to the car because, fuck, it’s cold .

Once he’s sat on the passenger’s seat, he looks at Jimin. “Dude, are you in your pajama?”

“I was in a rush,” Jimin replies.

“You’re wearing fucking bunny slippers.”

“ A rush , Taehyung.”

“What the—is that Hoseok passed out under that blanket or did you kill someone on the way?”

From under a pile of messy blankets, laid out on the backseat, Hoseok groans.

“He’s a heavy sleeper,” Jimin explains. “In retrospect, I could have just left him at home but I was acting on two hours of sleep and primal instinct.”

“I’m sorry.” Taehyung slumps into the seat. “I should have called a taxi.”

“Nonsense.” Jimin starts the car, shaking his head. “Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Are you gonna tell me what happened?”

“Also no.” Well, that’s just mean. “I’ll tell you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Wanna sleep at mine? I’ll squeeze you between me and Hoseok, he’s so tired he won’t even notice.”

Taehyung snorts despite everything, and he catches Jimin grinning as he drives. 

He’s going to end up sleeping between a perfectly functional couple instead of with the guy he has feelings for.

Right.

Fuck his life.

Chapter Text

If anyone asks, Taehyung is doing just fine.

No, really, he’s great.

“Is it that fucking hard to stand where you’re supposed to stand?” He seethes as he pushes the dressing room’s door open. “There are fucking Xs taped to the floor, so how do you mess that up?”

Jimin, sliding inside after him, completely covered in fake blood, quickly closes the door. “Lower your voice.”

“I almost fell face first off the stage ‘cause that idiot wasn’t standing in the right spot.” Taehyung drops on his chair heavily and starts getting rid of the bobby pins that keep the wig in place. He’s starting to hate this damn thing. Sure, it’s pretty and high quality, but the hair is way too fucking long and it keeps getting in his mouth while on stage.

“And Jin-hyung’s already grilling him for that, so you need to quiet down.” Jimin sends him a half-hearted glare from his reflection. Then, he starts peeling off the layers of fabric drenched in fake blood. “I get that you’re mad, but you can’t start making enemies in this business.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes. “Sure.”

Jimin stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head. “I’ll go shower and once I’m back we’re gonna talk.”

Under his breath, Taehyung mumbles that there’s nothing to talk about but Jimin ignores him in favor of locking himself in their small shared bathroom, to wash off all that sticky mess. The small, porcelain shower has started to look like a murder scene with how badly the fake blood stained it.

Taehyung focuses on the wig.

With each bobby pin that is gone, the tension of the wig cap eases and, with it, so does his anger. 

Mistakes happen. He shouldn’t have reacted like this. Usually, he doesn’t. 

But he’s doing fine. He’s great.

Once the wig is gone and put back on its mannequin head, Taehyung takes his time cleaning his face off the heavy stage makeup. After he applies some moisturizer, he even starts feeling relaxed, and changing into his own warm, light clothes is nothing short of heavenly after having had to wear layers and layers of heavy fabrics.

As he waits for Jimin to be done washing up, Taehyung blindly reaches inside their snack drawer and starts lazily munching on a chocolate bar while going through his emails.

Nothing new.

He refreshes the inbox.

Yep. Still nothing. 

That’s fine.

The bathroom door opens, and Jimin walks out with a sigh. Glancing at him from the mirror’s reflection, Taehyung gags. “Fucking—your dick is out.”

“Nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

“Gross.”

“Did Jungkook text you?”

“No.”

“He’s gonna be late again, I can tell.”

“Great,” Taehyung mutters, refreshing the inbox again.

There’s silence for a while as Jimin gets dressed and starts collecting his things, then, “Tae.”

“Mh?”

“Just call him.”

Oh.

Taehyung locks the phone screen and pockets it while standing up to go and grab his coat. “I don’t think I will. You ready? Let’s go then, I’m hungry and this is the only free night we have for the week.”

They leave the dressing room and lock the door before they start making their way down the stairs. The rest of the cast is also leaving, bidding goodbyes as they run into each other. Once out on the street, Taehyung hides his nose under his scarf and follows Jimin to where he parked the car.

“You wanna know why this whole mess even happened?” Jimin asks suddenly, just as he was about to unlock the car. “Because you two didn’t talk.”

“Pretty sure it happened because he didn’t want to have sex with me. Can we go?”

“He literally told you he wanted to have sex with you.” Jimin crosses his arms in front of his chest, staring at Taehyung from the opposite side of the car. “There’s something else. And since you didn’t talk—”

“Whose fault is that?” Taehyung arches an eyebrow. “I tried asking him why he was so upset and he didn’t tell me.”

“Then ask him again.” 

“Jimin, can we get inside this damn car? It’s cold.”

“Promise me you’ll call him to talk and—”

“Whose fucking side are you on?” Taehyung then exclaims, heart quickening with a rush of indignation. “I mean it, what the hell is this?”

“I’m on your side, you ass,” Jimin sighs and somehow, despite the insult, he manages to sound fond. “And because I’m on your side I want to see you at peace . Not like this.”

“Why, what am I like?”

“Angry.” Jimin’s expression softens. “Tae, you’re angry all the time. You snap at every little thing.” Finally, he unlocks the car and gestures at Taehyung to get inside. 

At first, they drive in silence for a while, until it gets so awkward that Jimin turns on the radio. Which should be kind of a warning flag since Jimin hates listening to the radio.

Taehyung breathes in.

Jimin isn’t wrong. 

He feels like, after what happened with Yoongi two days ago, he skipped past a handful of stages and went straight to anger. Which is immature, and has been putting everyone in a bad mood, and Taehyung hates it when people are uncomfortable around him. But, damn, is it his fault?

“I can hear you overthinking,” Jimin says after a while. 

“I don’t know what to do,” Taehyung admits quietly. “I get that we should talk, but what am I even going to tell him?”

“Well, for starters you could ask him again what actually happened.” Jimin glances at him for a moment, smiling. “And then maybe you should be honest about your feelings.”

Taehyung groans, sinking into the car seat. “No.”

“Taehyung.”

“I don’t want to confess just to be rejected. And don’t even start with the nonsense that he feels the same, we can safely say that’s not the case after what happened.”

Jimin frowns. “Unless he did what he did exactly because he feels the same?”

“That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Then baby steps. Start by asking him to explain what happened. Then see where that leads.” Jimin then adds, “From what you told me, he seemed to be experiencing something similar to a drop. It’s important to talk those things out when drops happen, if you don't then you’ll just end up feeling hurt and confused.”

“Great. So almost having sex with me made him have a drop, that’s just—”

“This isn’t just about you.” Jimin frowns, his voice a bit harder now. “Sex isn’t a singular experience. There were two of you. And while you might have experienced that moment one way, it doesn’t mean he was experiencing it the same. Or would you have preferred it if he kept going despite how uncomfortable he was?”

That makes Taehyung’s skin prickle with unease. The sole idea of it sinks down his stomach like nausea, until he squirms where he’s sitting.

“Of course not,” he murmurs. 

“Right. So, as I said before, just be adults about this and talk.” As they stop at a red light, Jimin reaches for Taehyung’s hand and squeezes it hard. “Tae, even if he rejects you, at least you’ll have closure. It will be good not just for you, but for him as well. So just think about it. Please.”

Taehyung hums. Then nods when Jimin sends him a pointed look.

He doesn’t say that all he’s been doing lately has been thinking. About Yoongi. About him. Them. And what they might have done wrong without realizing.

╭─────╮

If anyone asks, Yoongi is not doing fine.

Actually, he’s doing like utter shit.

And people have been asking. There must be something in his expression that gives him away because, in the whole three hours he spent at the recording studio to try and do some work, he’s been asked if he was okay nine times. 

That’s not reassuring.

Even worse, he’s been asked if he was alright at the fucking convenience store while buying instant noodles. The cashier genuinely looked concerned, especially when Yoongi replied honestly with a, “Absolutely not. Can I also have that pork bun? Thank you.”

He’d probably be handling this better if only he wasn’t in this exact situation because he’s a fucking idiot.

Yoongi doesn’t regret stopping the scene. It was the right thing to do.

What he regrets is how he acted after.

He wants to think he did everything right. That, despite the panic and the nauseating feeling of self-loathing, he still made sure Taehyung was cared for in such a delicate moment, and that it was made clear the fault wasn’t Taehyung’s. He has to believe that that, at least, was done right.

But, god, he should have taken more time. He should have waited longer, he should have let the initial fear and anxiety pass so that he could have a longer, more detailed discussion with Taehyung. And he shouldn’t have let Taehyung leave. It’s true that he needed some time alone, but he should have made sure that Taehyung spent the night at the flat instead of letting him leave in the middle of the fucking night. How did he even get home?

“Fuck.” Yoongi stops dead in his tracks in the middle of the street and drops the bag full of instant noodles on the ground. 

In a frenzy, he grabs his phone and before he can think against it, he types out a message.

Did you get home alright?

A bit fucking late to ask that, it’s been two days, but Yoongi needs to make sure. His head has been elsewhere for the last 48 hours and—maybe he should worry a bit more about how dazed he’s been in the last couple of days actually.

Taehyung doesn’t text him back for a while, even after it says that the message has been read. Yoongi doesn’t move, nor does he pick up the bag.

Finally, Taehyung replies.

That’s what you ask me after two days?

Shit.

The anxiety comes back, nasty and tight around his chest. Another message appears.

But yes, hyung.

Jimin came to get me, I’m fine.

Okay. Right, that’s good.

Yoongi breathes out in relief and rubs a hand over his face. His fingers are shaking, just enough for him to notice. Must be the cold.

He manages to send another text ( We’ll talk soon, I promise ) before he pockets the phone and grabs the bag again. He starts walking, hurrying his steps because it’s late, and he needs to be alone in his damn house, without all the noise of street traffic and people asking him how he’s doing.

In his pocket, his phone buzzes again with a new text, but Yoongi doesn’t check it.

Instead, he gets home, and changes into the first pair of sweatpants he finds. He eats his instant noodles in complete silence at the kitchen counter while quietly mourning the loss of the pork bun that got absolutely squashed into a pulp once the bag fell.

In the end, he drops on the couch with a heavy sigh and, finally, checks the phone. 

Are you alright, hyung?

Yoongi doesn’t reply. It’s late anyway, he’s probably asleep.

But that’s just an excuse.

He just doesn’t want to tell him he’s not alright. That he misses him. That he fucked up.

That his hands keep shaking even though it’s not cold in his house, and he swears he hasn’t been able to breathe right since Taehyung left his flat two days ago.

╭─────╮

Taehyung stares at his phone. 

It’s been almost an hour since he sent the last text and no reply came. Maybe Yoongi fell asleep. Probably.

“Are you still staring at that?” Jungkook asks suddenly, mouth half-full of popcorn.

“No.” Taehyung drops the phone on the couch and crosses his arms. 

“Let him be,” Jimin mutters, eyes focused on the TV. 

They’ve been trying to watch this movie for the last two hours, but they keep getting distracted, pausing it every twenty minutes to rewind it and see what they missed. Taehyung isn’t even sure he knows what the plot is.

For a while, though, they actually pay attention. They haven’t had time to have a movie night in a while now, and it’s a very much-needed evening of junk food and too much convenience store soju and beer.

The movie is actually nice now that he’s actually making an effort to follow it, and the actors are really good.

Jungkook pauses it again, and Jimin groans so loudly his voice cracks.

“You know what, I’ve been too nice about this,” Jungkook says, staring at Taehyung.

“Have you, though?” Taehyung rolls his eyes.

“You’re both fucking idiots.”

“Yes, you’ve told me already.”

“And he was a fucking prick, and you have every right to be mad, but it’s not like you’re a saint either.”

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, here we go,” Jimin sighs, grabbing the popcorn bowl.

“I’m not saying you were an asshole, but let’s be real here: you’ve been using him to—” Jungkook gestures in front of his face nonsensically. “I don’t even know what you were trying to achieve. Was it to fulfill a fantasy? Or just to get dicked down for once to know how it would feel to be his boyfriend? ‘Cause that’s shitty for you, but for him too.”

“Okay, I’m serious, are you guys on my side or—”

“This isn’t about sides!” Jungkook exclaims, fixing Taehyung with a hard look. “This is about honesty! You haven’t been honest with him and, at this point, I’m convinced he hasn’t been either.”

Taehyung groans into the palms of his hands, rubbing at his eyes. “Please, don’t say it again.”

“I’m absolutely sure he’s into you.”

“I’m going to jump off a window.”

“This is just more proof at this point.”

Jimin adds, “I kind of agree.”

“I saw the way he looked at you on opening night. Or at the club that night, weeks ago! I saw how he treated you! He fucking lowers his voice when he talks to you, have you noticed?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung whispers, feeling very tired all of a sudden. “Can you drop it?”

Jungkook doesn’t drop it.

“He was the only one on opening night who wondered if we should have bought you flowers. And during the whole play, whenever you were on stage, he wouldn’t even blink. He was staring at you like-like he saw a fucking god or something.” Jungkook breathes in. “He looks at you the way Namjoon looks at me. And speaking of Namjoon, he told me—”

“I don’t care what Namjoon said!” Taehyung nearly shouts, straightening up, that anger that has been so familiar these days coming back in full force. “I don't care what you think you saw either! I care that he was upset because he couldn’t have sex with me and that I hadn’t heard from him until literally two hours ago and the only thing he asked me was if I managed to get home alright! After two days!”

“And isn’t that raising some fucking flags?” Jungkook retorts, matching Taehyung’s voice. “You’re the one who told me how attentive he is. How caring . That even after he safe-worded out of a scene he made sure you were alright, and now he remembers asking if you got home after two days? He’s not fine! There’s something going on!”

Taehyung swallows hard. “Well, then he should tell me.”

“And you should tell him you’re in love with him! Seriously, why are you so convinced he’d reject you when—”

“Because if no one ever fucking fell in love with me until now, why would he be any different?!”

Jungkook’s face goes blank. 

Taehyung realizes he actually screamed this time just because his voice echoes across the room. Which is terrible, ‘cause he’s absolutely going to get a noise-complaint.

Then, it’s a silence so heavy that it has his ears ringing.

That is until Jimin loudly chews on a mouthful of popcorn.

“Seriously?” Jungkook glares at him.

“I’m so sorry, I had my mouth full, I was about to choke,” Jimin replies apologetically. “Please, don’t mind me.”

Taehyung slumps back on the couch, feeling exhausted and with tears prickling in his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Hyung, listen,” Jungkook says quietly, and he moves closer to the couch to squeeze Taehyung’s knee. “I know it’s been hard for you. I’ve known you for years, I was there with you when you were struggling with—with love and intimacy. I get it. I went through the same before Namjoon. But you’re—” He sighs. “You’re so worthy of love, but this time the one person who’s keeping you away from it isn’t Yoongi or some other guy. It’s you .”

Taehyung clenches his jaw, teeth grinding together. He doesn’t start crying, he manages to hold that back, but he’s real fucking near that. Jungkook notices, of course he does, and his expression turns gentle.

“I know,” Taehyung admits after a moment, quiet and raw. “I know that I should tell him. It’s just that it’s scary.”

Jungkook nods. “It is. But sometimes it’s worth it.”

“It would be worth it even if he rejected you, Tae,” Jimin chimes in gently. “I’m sure that if for some reason he really doesn’t feel the same way, he would respect your feelings.”

“Yeah,” Taehyung sighs. “It’d probably be the nicest rejection a person could get.”

Jungkook hums with a small smile. “So?”

“I’ll talk to him. And I’ll tell him. Just not-not now. I need some time.”

Jungkook looks like he wants to say something to that, but in the end, he closes his mouth and nods. 

“Can we watch this movie now?” Taehyung forces a smile. “Please?”

Jimin starts the film again, and the three of them settle down once more, not speaking and actually paying attention to the plot.

Although Jungkook starts texting someone every now and then, Taehyung decides he won’t investigate, 

╭─────╮

As previously explained, Namjoon is not an idiot.

So when Yoongi texts him asking him if he could spend the night at Namjoon’s place after he had called in sick at work, Namjoon knows he’s in for a fucking shitshow.

“Are you sure it’s not a problem?” Yoongi asks him as he drops his bag in the guest room.

“Don’t worry, it’s not like I had any plans. Jungkook’s spending the night at Jimin’s place anyway.” 

Yoongi hums, a little distracted. He stares at the bed for a moment, then shakes himself off it. “I’ll order us some food.”

“Ah, I’ll do it.”

“No, let me. To thank you for the hospitality.”

Namjoon snorts under his breath as he starts walking back into the living room. “We’ve known each other for ages, I’d say we’re past the need to thank each other for stuff like this.”

Yoongi follows after him and answers, “Let me do it anyway.”

Well, Namjoon’s not the one who will refuse some free food. 

As they wait for their meal to be delivered, Namjoon takes his time to try and figure out what it is, exactly, that is wrong with Yoongi.

He’s sitting on the couch, slouched, looking at the TV with a blank expression on his face. He’d be sitting absolutely still if it wasn’t for the tremor of his hands, and Namjoon squints his eyes. 

“You called in sick today, are you sick?”

“No,” Yoongi replies. 

“No?”

“Not really.”

“But you’re not fine either.”

“Clearly.”

“Alright.” Namjoon sighs. “I take it that your night with Taehyung didn’t go as planned.”

Yoongi flinches. 

Namjoon’s eyes widen. The fuck is that reaction? “Hyung?”

“I didn’t have sex with him,” Yoongi says, voice chipped. His jaw is clenched.

“Oh.” Namjoon clears his throat. “Was he—not ready, or—?”

“I safe-worded.”

Oh.

Oh?!

Yoongi looks at him then, with this exhausted shadow on his face, and are his eyes red? How did Namjoon only notice that now?

“How did you do it?” Yoongi asks quietly. “With Jungkook, I mean.”

Namjoon frowns. “I’m gonna need you to be more specific, ‘cause when you phrase it like that it sounds like you’re asking me how I fuck my boyfriend.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. At least the attitude is still there. “I meant, how did you manage to—” Yoongi pauses. “To not feel like you were about to do something disgusting.”

“Well, for starters, I never felt that anything I did with Jungkook was disgusting.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” Yoongi sighs heavily and rubs a hand over his face, fingertips trembling. “Just—you were in love with him, right? But you were also in a professional contract. So how did you manage to... to be with him without feeling like you were taking advantage of him?”

Namjoon hums, taking a few moments to think about his answer. He has the distinct feeling that what he’s about to say might hold more weight than he expects, and he’s going to try to not fuck this up.

“I didn’t,” he answers in the end, as honest as he could be. “I felt terrible.”

Yoongi blinks at him, then nods slowly.

“But, hyung, I never had a problem with having sex with him, you know? Before I figured out I had feelings for him, I mean. I don’t have any rules about that, I’ve always been comfortable with fucking my clients.” Namjoon shrugs. “That’s why I was so surprised when you told me you were going to sleep with him. You’ve always been very careful with your boundaries, so—” He lets the sentence hang. “But once I started developing feelings for Jungkook I tried to bury them and to remain professional. But in doing so, I felt like I was doing something wrong whenever I’d have sex with him. So, in the end, I sat him down and told him how I felt for him, and what that entailed.” Namjoon smiles a little at the memory. “I was lucky enough that Jungkook felt the same for me.”

Yoongi smiles as well, small and barely there. He whispers, “Yeah, you were lucky.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Hyung, I think you might be lucky too.”

Yoongi scoffs and shakes his head. He brings his hand to his mouth, to rub absentmindedly at his lips with shaking fingers—

“Hyung, are you cold?” Namjoon asks.

Yoongi shakes his head again. Then, after a moment, he adds, “I asked if I could spend the night here ‘cause if I stay alone I might not get out of bed for—a while.”

“What do you—”

“I think I’m going through a drop.”

Namjoon doesn’t move for a long while, more specifically, for the time it takes his brain to process Yoongi’s words. Then he’s up and about and panicking.

“Now why the fuck didn’t you start with that?” He hisses, rushing around the couch to go to his room and grab from his wardrobe a thick blanket, heavy and soft. He’s back in the living room with a sprint and he immediately drapes the blanket over Yoongi, tucking him in the damn thing. Yoongi doesn’t react much, though he does frown at Namjoon’s antics.

“Tea, you like tea, right?” Namjoon paces left and right for a moment. “I’ll make you tea.”

“We’re waiting for food, though.”

“Right. Okay, that first, then tea.”

“Calm down,” Yoongi breathes out. “I’m fine. Just didn’t want to be alone.”

He says that, but Namjoon can see him hugging the blanket closer to him. 

Jungkook never had a drop. Other subs he worked with did, but he knew how to take care of them, Yoongi is—well, it’s brand-new territory so he’s really fucking clueless right now.

Yoongi must notice his internal struggle, because he says, “I mean it, just sit down. I just want some company, okay? I’ll be fine.”

He seems genuine about that at least so some of Namjoon’s anxiety starts sizzling down. With a small smile, Yoongi gestures at him to join him back on the couch.

They’ve never been overly affectionate with each other, their friendship was always one of quiet care, and that has worked just fine. But if Namjoon sits a bit closer to Yoongi, well, that just feels like the natural thing to do.

“Do you wanna tell me exactly what happened?” Namjoon tries.

After a pause, Yoongi answers, “I think I do.”

So they talk about it and keep talking about it once their food arrives, and then after while having a drink, the TV long turned off and replaced by the relaxing beats of an old Jazz record that Namjoon got his hands on at a flea market a couple days ago.

At the end of it, Namjoon feels like Yoongi went through the same thing he had to deal with while navigating his feelings for Jungkook. Except that Yoongi’s not coping with it as well as he did once.

Which makes sense. For all his quiet and calm demeanor, Yoongi has always been the one who feels… more. And differently.

All the control Yoongi tends to use to take care of his life flies out of the window when it comes down to his feelings.

“What is it that you think might be the cause of the drop?” Namjoon asks after a few moments of silence. “That you pulled back? Stopped a scene? Or that you felt like you were taking advantage of him?”

Yoongi shakes his head, staring at his glass of red wine. “No, that’s—I’m glad I stopped the scene. I think it’s mostly because I sent Taehyung away.”

“Oh.”

“At that moment I felt like I needed to be alone, but I shouldn’t have sent him away.” Yoongi shrugs with a slight grimace. “I should have let him stay the night. Make sure he was alright. And then we should have talked once we were both calmer, to go through what happened.” A pause. “I should have been honest.”

Namjoon wants to say that they both should have been.

Jungkook told him that Taehyung had feelings for Yoongi weeks ago. But it was a secret, something Jungkook made him swear not to tell Yoongi, because it’s up to Taehyung to confess a thing like that.

But damn, does Namjoon want to snitch.

“Did you feel like you failed him?” Namjoon asks carefully. “As his dom?”

Yoongi breathes in, a little shakily, and nods. “I did—my best. I think. With the aftercare. But still, the fact that I sent him away in the middle of the fucking night—anything could have happened to him.”

Namjoon says, “Yes, but thankfully that wasn’t the case.”

“Still—”

“Hyung, you’re a human. We make mistakes.” He smiles then. “But we can also fix them.”

“Yeah, well.” Yoongi huffs, like he’s irritated with himself. “I don’t know how to fix this specific one.”

“I do.”

“Don’t say—”

“Tell him you have feelings for him.”

Yoongi groans, throwing his head back. “Fuck, I know I should.”

“Even if he rejects you, wouldn’t that at least bring you some peace of mind?” Namjoon takes a sip of his wine and clicks his tongue. “Though I highly doubt that he would.”

“At least you’re optimistic.”

“One of us has to be. But for now, just take it easy. Wait until you feel better, and then you can figure things out with Taehyung.” Namjoon gives Yoongi what he hopes is an encouraging smile. “I don’t know him that well, but from what you said and what Jungkook always tells me about Taehyung… well, isn’t he a kind person?”

“He is,” Yoongi whispers. “He’s great.”

Namjoon snorts. “Fucking love-struck.”

“Oh, shut up, I had to deal with your pathetic ass when you were losing your mind over Jungkook for weeks. You owe me this.”

“I guess I do.” Namjoon looks at Yoongi and, seriously, he says, “It’ll be alright. I have a good feeling about this.”

Yoongi just hums, without replying. 

Namjoon doesn’t tell him that his good feeling is, actually, a plan of action.

Because fuck this pining nonsense.

The next morning, Yoongi leaves after breakfast. He says he feels a lot better after talking with Namjoon, and it seems like the tremor in his hands has gone away.

Doesn’t matter though. Plan of action is still happening.

It’s almost noon when Namjoon hears the door opening, and then Jungkook’s voice calling for him. He gets out of his office fast, smiling wide when he sees Jungkook shrugging off his huge, padded coat.

“Hey,” Namjoon opens his arms as soon as he sees Jungkook making his way to him. “Had fun at Jimin’s?”

Jungkook happily throws himself in his arms, squeezing Namjoon hard enough it punches the air out of him. God, this guy is so strong, and for what?

“Had fun, yeah,” Jungkook replies. He pulls back a little, licking his lips before he surges forward for a hard kiss. 

“Someone missed me.” 

“Yeah,” Jungkook whispers against his mouth, hands already trailing down Namjoon’s stomach, to tease at the waistband of his sweatpants. “So much that I think you should bend me over the couch and fuck me until—”

Namjoon groans. “ God , I can’t believe I’m about to turn that idea down, but I am.”

Jungkook pulls back, staring at him with unblinking, huge eyes. “You’re turning down sex? With me?” 

“I have reasons.”

Jungkook scoffs. “They better be fucking good.”

Namjoon takes Jungkook’s face in his hands and leans down to press a quick kiss to his mouth. Then does it again, and again, until Jungkook’s frown disappears. “Remember when I said we shouldn’t meddle with Taehyung and Yoongi?”

“Yes,” Jungkook replies. “Stupid idea, but—”

“Yeah, exactly, so screw that plan.”

“Oh?” Jungkook grins, excitement bright in his eyes. “Are we meddling?”

“I feel like there are no options left. They’re both too oblivious and insecure, if we leave them to their own devices we’ll be waiting for ages before they get their shit together.”

“Fucking finally, you get it.” Jungkook nods eagerly. “So, do you have a plan?”

“I do.”

“Perfect.” Then Jungkook drops to his knees, hands stroking up Namjoon’s thighs. “Tell me the plan after I’m fucked out.” 

“Jungkook,” Namjoon sighs. “Let’s fo— ah, fuck. ”

Jungkook hums while mouthing wetly at Namjoon’s crotch, tongue pressing against the thin fabric. He blinks up at Namjoon with a glint of amusement, lips dragging along the hardening line of his cock, and Namjoon is only human.

“Alright,” Namjoon murmurs, already a bit lost in the wave of arousal. “After we fuck.”

Jungkook grins. “That’s better.”

╭─────╮

Taehyung stops lashing out at people on Wednesday.

On Thursday, he’s profusely apologizing to every single cast member. Much to Taehyung’s relief, they all laugh it off and tell him not to worry about it. Apparently, since they were so used to Taehyung being nice and soft-spoken to everyone, they assumed he was going through something during those days.

It doesn’t make him feel any less bad about it, but at least he can go back to working with a lighter chest.

Honestly, he’s not even sure who he was mad at. Not Yoongi, not really. Maybe himself.

During the week, Yoongi texts him at least once a day to, as Taehyung sees it, check up on him. Yoongi tells him he hasn’t been feeling well these days, and that’s why they haven’t met yet.

When Taehyung texts the group-chat about it, mostly to mop and complain and whine a little, he’s surprised that Jungkook confirms that, saying that Namjoon told him Yoongi even called in sick at work.

In a way, it’s reassuring to know that Yoongi didn’t lie and that he’s not actively avoiding him. That would be—not ideal.

So life keeps going as usual: Taehyung’s days are a mix of rehearsals, hurried lunches, shows, and late-night dinners. 

Then Friday night comes and Taehyung is excited at the prospect of spending it with Jungkook and Jimin for their usual movie. There are no rehearsals on Saturday mornings, so this is the only evening they get to spend getting half-drunk and lazing around until it’s almost dawn.

Except that just before leaving their dressing room, Jimin says, “Ah, I’m sorry Tae, I’m actually going out with Hoseok tonight.” 

“Oh.” Taehyung shrugs, the disappointment fading quickly. “That’s fine. What plans do you guys have?”

“Well, Hoseok booked us a table at this new BBQ place near his house, so that’s first.” Jimin starts wrapping a scarf around his neck. “Then after that, I plan to tie him up and slap him until—”

“Okay, got it.” Taehyung heaves a deep sigh. “Have fun.”

“Oh, I will .” 

“Guess it’s just gonna be me and Kook, then.”

Jimin blinks, then—smiles? Grins? Smirks? What the hell is that? “You haven’t checked the group chat?”

Taehyung frowns and pulls out his phone, and opens the chat.

Kook-ah

Sorry guys, can’t make it tonight

Jiminie

What??

That’s craaazy me neither 

Kook-ah

Sorry Tae!!

Namjoon has plans

For my ass specifically

Guess it’s just gonna be you!!!

At home!

With nothing else going on!!!

“What the hell is wrong with you two today?” Taehyung mutters before putting the phone back in the pocket of his coat.

“Nothing,” Jimin answers immediately. “Nothing is going on.”

“Right.” Taehyung shakes his head. “Whatever. Guess I’ll just get drunk on my own.”

“Yes.” Jimin smiles at him, eyes dangerously bright. “On your own.” 

Fine. So he’s alone on a Friday night.

Taehyung makes it a self-care evening. Because he deserves it or some bullshit like that.

He takes a long, warm bath and uses the expensive bath oils Jimin got him for his birthday last year. And then he orders some fried chicken because it’s been ages since he ate that, and once he’s done with his meal he opens a new bottle of white wine to maybe just fucking drink it in its entirety because why not?

That plan is broken when, just before he’s about to have his first sip, his phone starts buzzing. Taehyung puts the glass down and frowns at the screen, blinking with Jungkook’s name.

“Hello?”

“ Oh, hyung, thank god you answered! ” Jungkook shrieks on the other side of the phone.

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks. “I thought you were with Namjoon.”

“ I am! I am, but there’s an emergency! So—okay, basically Yoongi just called Namjoon ‘cause he fell off the stairs. ”

Taehyung blinks. “What?”

“ He fell. Off the stairs. He says he might have broken a leg or something, I don’t know, he was kind of yelling. ”

“What the—”

“ So you should go to his house and drive him to the hospital, I’ll send you the address. ”

“Me?!” Taehyung blanks for a second. “Why isn’t Namjoon going?!”

“ Well, here’s the thing, we’re kind of in Jeju right now. ”

“In where ?! I thought you guys were planning on fucking!”

“ Yes, well, he’s fucking me in Jeju! It was a— ” Jungkook pauses. “ Surprise! It was a surprise! ”

“Can’t he call for an ambulance?! That’d be a lot faster than me!”

“ I guess he panicked, ” Jungkook blurts out. “ Anyway, Namjoon told Yoongi you’d go, so, yeah, drive fast I guess! Bye! ”

“Wait—”

“No can do, hyung’s balls deep in my ass. ”

“That’s fucking disgusting!” 

“ It is, so goodbye, go save him! ”

The line falls dead.

Taehyung spends maybe thirty seconds just staring at his phone, mind completely empty, not a thought in there.

Then he gets a grip.

“What the fuck?” He hisses, rushing into his room to put on some clothes. “This is ridiculous, this is—what the hell is going on?”

It’s once he’s out of his flat that Jungkook texts him Yoongi’s address, so Taehyung just decides to ignore the absolute insanity of the entire situation and rushes to his car.

If Yoongi really broke a leg then he needs to get there as fast as possible, he can only imagine how painful that must be. Although, really, an ambulance would do the job a lot better than him.

But screw it. Yoongi’s expecting him, so Taehyung’s going to do this.

He gets there in less than twenty minutes.. 

Which should concern him, ‘cause if he burned a red light (or several) he’s not looking forward to the fine he’s gonna have to pay for.

Taehyung parks the car the second he finds a free spot, then runs out, promptly stumbles over the sidewalk’s ledge and just barely manages to not fall down on his face.

Checking the address one last time, he spots what must be Yoongi’s house—which, holy shit, that’s not a condo, that’s an independent house, maybe a villa?—and sprints to it.

He only has one second to wonder as to how Yoongi will be able to open the gate, and then the door for him, with a broken leg before said gate swings open with enough strength the hinges whine.

Standing in front of him, looking like a wild mess, coat half on, half off, is Yoongi.

Taehyung looks at him.

Yoongi stares back.

Then Taehyung shrieks, “You’re walking?! Are you crazy?!”

“You—” Yoongi blinks. Then he grabs Taehyung by the shoulders, eyes roaming wildly over his face and body. “You’re not at the hospital?! How did you even get here?!”

“What the hell are you on about?! You’re the one who has a broken leg!”

“A what?” Yoongi frowns. “I’m fine.”

“Huh?”

“You, though—you look okay, too?” Yoongi steps back at this, tension slowly leaving his face. “Namjoon called me, like, three minutes ago. He said you called Jungkook ‘cause you got in a car accident but he couldn’t get to you because they were in Busan or something.”

What?

No, seriously, what?

“Jungkook called me .” Taehyung squints his eyes. “Told me you called Namjoon ‘cause you fell off the stairs and broke a leg. And they weren’t in Busan, they were in Jeju.”

“Why would I call him and not an ambulance if I broke a leg?”

“Yeah, that’s what I said—wait.” Taehyung holds up a hand and takes a deep breath in. “Give me a second, I’m connecting the dots.”

“Oh, my god.” With a groan, Yoongi rubs his hands over his face. 

The dots connect.

Taehyung promises to himself that next time he sees Jungkook, he’ll punch him in the face.

“They meddled,” Taehyung declares.

“They did.”

“I’m not gonna lie, I’m actually impressed they pulled it off.”

“Yeah, I don’t know how they got the timing so right.”

“They can never know we praised them.”

“Of course not.”

Silence. 

God, it’s awkward.

Without the stress and concern, meeting Yoongi like this after what happened is a lot harder than Taehyung thought. Fuck, maybe Yoongi didn’t even want to see him at all.

Taehyung looks up and holds his breath when he meets Yoongi’s eyes. “Hi,” he whispers.

Yoongi breathes out and his mouth curves into a small smile. “Hi.”

“I’m sorry about this. You were probably busy, so—”

“Do you wanna come in?”

“I—” Taehyung hesitates. Yes. Yes, he really fucking does, but maybe Yoongi’s just asking out of courtesy. “I don’t wanna impose.”

“I asked, didn’t I?” Yoongi steps aside a little. “I’d like it if you came in. So that we can talk. If you want to.” He grins. “We can also not talk and just sit in silence.”

Taehyung thinks it would be a lot easier to say no if only Yoongi wasn’t so stupidly sweet right now.

But as it stands, he says, “I’d like to talk.”

Yoongi nods at this, a certain relief quite clear on his face as he gestures at Taehyung to come inside.

The gate closes behind them, and Taehyung follows Yoongi through a small front yard, with a few plants barely making it past the harsh winter, over a paved path that leads to the entrance.

Yoongi opens the door, stepping aside to let Taehyung inside.

The lights are on, almost as if Yoongi forgot to turn them off in a rush (which is probably what happened, Taehyung reasons). 

Inside, the house seems to be a single floor and it’s… clean. Everything seems to have its spot, from the books on the shelves to the various records piled neatly near a large stereo. The living room, despite the furniture being modern, looks very lived-in and cozy, with a large couch in front of a square coffee table. 

Taehyung looks around for a while, taking in the paintings, prints, and photos all framed on the walls, and spots the open kitchen off to the side, and a corridor that must lead to other rooms.

He blurts out, “Oh, you are rich rich.”

Behind him, Yoongi snorts. “Not that rich.”

“Sorry, I don’t know why I said that.”

“It’s fine. This house actually belongs to my brother.” Yoongi holds out a hand and, once Taehyung’s brain decides to kick in, he takes off his coat and hands it over. “I don’t think I’d be able to afford it just yet.”

“Then your brother is rich rich.”

“That, he is.” Yoongi smiles. “Hugely successful restaurants.”

“Plural.”

“Yeah, plural. You can imagine he’s the favorite child.” Yoongi folds Taehyung’s coat carefully over an armchair, then takes off his coat as well and drapes it on the couch. “Would you like some tea?”

Taehyung freezes.

After a moment, Yoongi grimaces. “Sorry. Force of habit.”

“No, it’s—fine.” Taehyung manages a smile and nods. “I’d like tea.”

As different of a setting as this is, watching Yoongi go about in the kitchen boiling water and preparing tea to brew is so familiar it almost feels reassuring.

Taehyung sits on a stool at the large kitchen island in the middle of the room and, while Yoongi’s busy, he grabs his phone and sends a quick text to Jungkook.

I’ll punch you in the fucking face.

The reply comes almost immediately.

Don’t fuck it up 

Taehyung scoffs. 

Are you even in Jeju? Or Busan or whatever?

Jungkook replies: LOL no  

Asshole.

Yoongi turns around, carrying two mugs, so Taehyung puts the phone away and rests his elbows on the counter as Yoongi sits on the stool next to him. 

“How have you been?” Yoongi asks him, pushing the mug closer to Taehyung.

“Fine,” Taehyung replies immediately, almost on autopilot. He licks his lips. “That’s a lie. I haven’t been fine.”

He sees Yoongi take a long breath, then nod. “Yeah, me neither.”

Taehyung takes the mug, holding it between his fingers, letting the warmth of it burn a little. “I’m not angry at you, you know? I really never was.”

“Even if you were, I wouldn’t blame you. I wasn’t—” Yoongi looks away, down to his lap. “I didn’t treat you right last time.”

Taehyung lets the silence linger for a moment. It’s not—tense, or awkward, but it feels as if there was a very delicate, thin veil draped over them. “You were upset. You didn’t mean to.”

“I want to apologize. For sending you away in the middle of the night after stopping the scene like that. For being so—confusing.” Yoongi looks at Taehyung and there’s an honesty and vulnerability in his eyes that makes Taehyung’s body go stiff. “I really—Taehyung, I’m serious when I say this, I never meant to treat you like that. But I realized too late that I was going through a drop, so I acted—”

“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks, chest going tight with worry. “Now, I mean.”

“I’m fine.” Yoongi nods. He swallows then, visibly, audibly, and before he speaks again he drinks some of the tea. “I’m just—I’m sorry. And you don’t have to forgive me, but I still just wanted to tell you this.”

“Hyung, I really don’t need you to apologize for that. I’m not angry. I especially wasn’t angry because you didn’t have sex with me, I want to make that clear. I was just worried.” Taehyung licks his lips nervously. “And you wouldn’t tell me exactly what was wrong so that just confused me and made me worry even more.”

Yoongi listens quietly, then rubs his forehead, closing his eyes for a moment. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?”

“I actually do. Yes.” And suddenly Yoongi is—fidgety. He rubs his palms over his trousers, then rolls his shoulders, and squares them up like he’s getting ready to get into a brawl. “It wasn’t you. I mean that, I really need you to know that, it wasn’t your fault or anything like that. But it’s just—it was your first time.” Yoongi glances at him, then looks away. “And I know you’re the one who asked me to—”

“Deflower me,” Taehyung says plainly.

“That. Yes.” Yoongi huffs a small laugh. “And maybe you don’t really care about it, maybe your first time isn’t something you give much weight to, but I-I do. ‘Cause it should be—even if you don’t really give a shit about it, it should be with someone you love. Or at least care about. Someone you trust.”

Taehyung is about to pass out.

Isn’t this it? Like, now or never?

Screw it.

“Hyung, listen—”

“No, actually, let me finish, then you can tell me everything.” Yoongi holds up a hand, looking at Taehyung with a light flush on his face and wide eyes. “‘Cause if I don’t say it now I really never will.”

Taehyung settles down and prays that the earlier burst of courage doesn’t disappear.

“Your first time shouldn’t be with a fucking dom you found on a website. Your first time shouldn’t be during a scene where I-I have power over you, even though you allowed me that power.” Yoongi breathes out, shaky, nervous, and this time his hands are shaking when he brings them to push his hair back. “I stopped the scene because I realized I wasn’t doing it for you. I was—doing it for me . Because I wanted to have sex with you, not because it was your request. And that made me feel fucking gross,” Yoongi grits out. “Because I was taking advantage of you. Because I wanted to be your first, at least that , and—” Then he lets out a strained laughter, eyes wide as he looks to the side of the room. “Holy shit, this is harder than I thought.”

Taehyung doesn’t speak. He doesn’t move. Hell, he’s barely fucking breathing.

Yoongi takes a few moments before he looks at Taehyung, his expression open, and earnest, way too raw with whatever emotion has taken over.

“I wasn’t going to have sex with you because you asked me, I was doing it because I wanted you. You . Taehyung, I don’t want you to pay me to meet you. I don’t want us to have sex because we have a contract. I don’t—want you to feel like you can’t call my name.”

“Hyung.”

“I couldn’t have sex with you because I’m falling in love with you.” 

Several things happen.

One: Taehyung replays the sentence in his head enough times that it stops making sense.

Two: he grabs the cup of tea and downs way too much of the drink all at once, which is still really hot, so he burns the roof of his mouth.

Three: he cannot believe he’s going to have to sit through hours of countless I told you so from Jimin and Jungkook.

Four: he starts laughing.

Must be the shock.

And once he starts he can’t really stop, so he has to sit there, cackling like a fucking weirdo, while Yoongi just stares at him with a deep frown.

“Okay, I was expecting a rejection but not you laughing at me,” Yoongi mutters.

“Oh, fuck, no—oh, shit.” Taehyung snorts and shakes his head. “God, hyung, I’m so not—wow, this is not happening. I’m not laughing at you. Just give me a second. Fuck.” 

So Taehyung laughs the shock off, and Yoongi sits through it all with the same confused expression on his face until Taehyung manages to get a grip.

“Right.” Taehyung tries to not grin too wide, but that’s asking too much. “Wow, all the time I spent losing my mind because I was paying you.”

“What?”

“I spent days feeling terrible because I felt like I was using you and paying you just to be with you.” Taehyung forces himself to look at Yoongi when he says this. He owes him this much, he reckons. “Just to—to try and pretend that’s how it would feel to be with you.”

“Oh, no.” Yoongi blinks. “No way.”

“Hyung, you’re falling for me? Congrats. I’m already there.”

Yoongi stares at him for a moment, his frown slowly easing until it gives way to a look of open, raw awe. And it’s not the first time Taehyung’s seen this expression on him.

It happened before. When they were in bed, together, or in that bathtub, and—

Maybe Jungkook and Jimin were right and he’s a fucking idiot because it’s not that hard to see now that Yoongi can’t hide his feelings at all.

“You—” Yoongi swallows. “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“That’s—convenient.”

Taehyung presses his lips together to avoid bursting into laughter again. “Yep, very much so.”

Then, Yoongi closes his eyes like he’s in physical pain and groans loudly. “God, Namjoon won’t let me live this down.”

“At least you just have to deal with Namjoon,” Taehyung says. “I have three people who will make fun of me until I breathe.”

Yoongi snorts, opening his eyes to look at Taehyung. “Yeah, good luck with that.”

Taehyung grins. He wonders what his face looks like right now because his cheeks kind of hurt, so he imagines he must look like an idiot. But he can’t help it, can he? Being happy.

Because, fuck, he’s about to shake with how happy he is. It comes in small waves, this warm, sated feeling of satisfaction and slight disbelief, and with each of those waves, the feeling gets stronger, hotter, until his eyes start burning.

Yoongi sees that, of course he does. Attentive as he is, how could he miss that?

So he leans in closer, to bring his hands to the sides of Taehyung’s face and press his thumbs gently at the corners of his eyes. “Hey.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung chuckles, nervous and so overwhelmed he’s starting to feel dizzy. “Just—I didn’t think we’d get to this point.”

Yoongi nods, smiling, and gentle. “Yeah, me neither.” He rubs at the wetness gathered at the corners of Taehyung’s eyes. “To be honest, we did everything in the wrong order so now I don’t even know what to do.”

“Right?” Taehyung exclaims at this and leans forward. “Like—we’ve done everything.”

“Well…” Yoongi shrugs. “Not everything .”

Taehyung flushes. “Oh.” 

Yoongi looks at him, then smirks. “I meant going on a date.”

“ Oh .” That’s embarrassing. “No, yeah, me too.”

“Uh-huh.” 

“Seriously. Perfectly pure thoughts.”

Yoongi’s grin softens into something fond and small. “Would you like that? If we did things in the right order?”

“Of course I would,” Taehyung murmurs. He takes Yoongi’s hands in his own, bringing them down to his lap. “I’d like that a lot.”

“You’ll have to deal with me, though, I’m fucking rusty when it comes to dating.”

“It’s not like I’m any better.” Taehyung squeezes Yoongi’s hands. “Let’s do that. Dating. Whatever that means.”

Yoongi nods slowly and has this smile on his face that is small but so damn genuine Taehyung really only wants to lean in and kiss him until they both can’t breathe and—

“Then should we follow dating rules?”

Taehyung looks at him. “Huh?”

“It would be like starting over. We could do things in the right order.” Yoongi’s smile turns amused. “If you want to. It could be fun.”

“Right.” Taehyung nods, the sudden surge of romanticism he was feeling before fading just a little. “Sure. Yeah, we can pretend we’ve never seen each other’s dicks before.”

“We… could, yes.”

Taehyung starts laughing and Yoongi just keeps smiling and holding his hands, cheeks pink and eyes a little dazed.

So they decide to do things in order.

Yoongi will come pick him up the next day and they’ll go have a meal together. Then maybe a film, or a bar for drinks, or maybe just walking. 

Taehyung hasn’t been on an actual date in so long that he’s almost nervous (and no, that creep from the website doesn’t fucking count), so that evening, as he drives back home he can’t stop grinning like an idiot.

He feels almost like a teenager again. The second he’s back inside his house he starts going through his wardrobe to try and figure out what he should wear, and what perfume to use, how to style his hair, and decides he won’t feel ridiculous about this.

It’s fun. It also feels fucking good.

There’s this happiness that he really can’t shake off because Yoongi likes him. Is almost in love with him. Halfway there. Yoongi wants him, really wants him, not just for sex, not just for one evening per week, but every day and that’s—

That’s so unbelievable that Taehyung doesn’t know what to do with himself.

Then half an hour goes by, Taehyung is putting his clothes back in the wardrobe and it hits him.

He should have—kissed Yoongi. Right there and then. And he should have asked Yoongi if he wanted to come over to his house. Or if he could have stayed over instead. 

No, seriously, they just confessed, and they haven’t kissed? What the—he should have fucking kissed Yoongi. 

“I’m a fucking idiot,” Taehyung mumbles under his breath, but then sighs.

Tomorrow. Screw dating rules, he’ll kiss Yoongi on their first date and then invite him over, and the next day they can go back to dating as if they’ve never held hands before, because that’s fun, and something they’ve earned, but, fuck, Taehyung wants him so bad.

His phone starts buzzing. 

Taehyung looks at Yoongi’s ID blinking on the screen and, after three exact seconds of confusion, he jumps over the bed and grabs the phone to pick up the call.

“Hyung?”

“ I should have kissed you. ”

“Yes,” Taehyung replies immediately, chest going hot. “I should have kissed you too.”

“ I know I was the one who came up with the starting over idea, but— ” Yoongi hesitates and Taehyung hears him take a deep breath. “Holy shit, Taehyung, what a terrible idea that was.”

“Oh, thank god.”

“We can start over tomorrow.”

“Yes, let’s do that.”

“Yes?”

“I need you to come over. Like, right now.”

Rustling on the other side of the phone. Taehyung then hears hurried steps and the jingle of keys being grabbed. “ Thank fuck, ” Yoongi hisses, and Taehyung almost laughs again. “I’ll be there as soon as possible. ”

“Good.” Taehyung breathes in. “Buy condoms on the way?”

Something slams loudly on Yoongi’s side, then comes a pained groan.

Taehyung frowns. “Hyung, are you—?”

“I face-planted on my door, don’t worry about it.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll be there. Soon.”

Taehyung hums, body feeling light all of sudden. “Yes, please.”

Half an hour passes in a blur.

Taehyung showers at record speed, preps at an ever more impressive pace, and then just—stands in front of the door clad in his bathrobe, waiting for Yoongi to show up. Yes, it’s embarrassing, but he cannot give a shit about pride right now.

When the doorbell does ring, Taehyung nearly slams the door open, with Yoongi staring at him wide-eyed, finger still hovering by the doorbell.

“Wow, you were fast,” Yoongi says.

“I was waiting.”

“I can tell.” He’s smiling now, and he walks inside when Taehyung steps aside.

Once the door is closed, Taehyung eyes the bags in Yoongi’s hands and frowns. “Hyung, do you plan on fucking me for two days straight?”

Yoongi clears his throat, face red. “I panicked.”

“So you robbed the whole store?”

“I mean, I paid for the stuff. The guy at the register looked both terrified and impressed.” Yoongi then looks at Taehyung. “Quick question, are you wearing anything under that?”

Taehyung presses his lips together. “No.”

Yoongi hums, staring at him still, and his eyes go just a bit darker, just a bit taken, and Taehyung thinks he’s been patient enough.

So he surges forward, grabs Yoongi by the coat to drag him closer, and, fucking finally, kisses him.

Somehow, Yoongi manages to hold him back without dropping the two bags in his hands, which is impressive in its own right, especially when Yoongi kisses him back hard, and full. Belatedly, Taehyung realizes Yoongi has to stand on his toes to kiss him properly, and that’s fucking cute and stored in Taehyung’s mind for later.

That being said, it stops being cute when they manage to stumble their way through the apartment and into Taehyung’s room and, consequently, on Taehyung’s bed.

The moment Taehyung ends up pressed into the mattress, Yoongi settles between his legs to kiss him like he’s been dying for it. Deep, and slow, wet, licking into his mouth until Taehyung shudders, and his legs spread further. Yoongi hums against his mouth, hands stroking up Taehyung’s sides, squeezing at his waist.

Taehyung swears he’s trying to kiss back with the same amount of heat and fervor, but his brain is fucking melting. He does have the mind to paw at Yoongi’s coat until Yoongi gets the message and starts shrugging it off, kiss clumsier now but still so good that Taehyung thinks he might be satisfied even if this was all they did tonight.

Once the coat is gone, Yoongi is pressed against him, teeth nipping at his bottom lip before kissing him again, harder this time to the point that it stings a bit and Taehyung has to hold back a moan at the heat that brings. 

When Taehyung brings his hands to sneak under the thin long-sleeved shirt Yoongi’s wearing, something so fucking flimsy Taehyung wonders if he rushed here without even changing his clothes, Yoongi’s skin feels warm under his fingers, and he feels his muscles clench as he strokes up his back. 

Yoongi’s breath hitches, hips pressing against Taehyung’s. “Tell me what you want.”

Taehyung groans, chasing after Yoongi’s mouth as he pulls back to speak. “Don’t stop.”

Yoongi breathes out a quiet laugh, leaning down to kiss him one more time, to guide Taehyung’s hips against his in a slow, frustrating grind. “How do you want it? I’ll do anything you ask, yeah? Anything.”

“Just—” Taehyung licks his lips, and tries grinding against Yoongi harder but the grip on his hips is firm and—he likes that, fuck. “Just want you to fuck me.”

“ How ?” Yoongi asks again, looking at him in the eyes, serious and earnest. “Tell me how to make you feel good. I really—” Yoongi lets out a sigh, his gaze softening. “I want it to be good for you. I’ll do everything, Tae.”

Taehyung swallows. His body feels ablaze now, like he’d react to the lightest of touches. 

He thinks about what Yoongi’s asking him for a few moments, and there’s only one answer that comes to his mind.

“You said once that—that if you were to fuck me you’d take your time,” Taehyung says, his voice coming out steady but quieter than he thought. “I don’t know if you remember what you said you’d do, but—”

“I remember,” Yoongi says, lips curling into a smile. “I remember what I said. Is that what you want?”

Taehyung nods fast, taking in the pleased expression on Yoongi’s face. The same kind of smile he has when Taehyung does good, or when he’s loud and needy—Taehyung swears that before Yoongi he couldn’t stand cockiness, but on him, it’s so attractive it makes Taehyung forget about shame, until his shyness fades in favor of being bold. So he struggles a little against Yoongi’s grip, to press his growing erection against Yoongi’s, humming at the friction, back arching. And now Yoongi looks at him with that intense gaze of his, all dark eyes and obvious want; Taehyung preens, satisfied.

Yoongi leans back, kneeling between his legs, and pulls at the robe’s belt, pushing the sides away. “I do remember,” he says again, and his tone is playful as he strokes carefully up Taehyung’s sides. “But it’s been a while, so maybe you should remind me.”

Taehyung blinks, and it takes him a few moments to process Yoongi’s words (honestly, thinking is hard when he’s this horny and desperate). But then it clicks, and he feels himself grow hot, his cock twitching. 

Yoongi notices, ‘cause it seems like nothing gets past him, and he wets his lips before circling his thumb just under the swell of Taehyung’s chest. “Yeah?”

Taehyung swallows. He watches as Yoongi leans to the side over the bed to grab one of the bags again; from it, he grabs a new bottle of lube and a pack of condoms. He leaves those on the bed and throws the two bags on the floor.

When he focuses on Taehyung again, he doesn’t move. Waits, patiently, with his thumbs drawing circles over Taehyung’s ribs in a slow, soothing rhythm.

This isn't a scene. Taehyung knows that. There aren’t rules or orders, there’s just them, in this bed, in Taehyung’s room. 

So he takes Yoongi’s wrists and guides his hands to his chest, fingers warm and smooth on his skin. 

“You said you’d touch me here,” Taehyung whispers, his hands covering Yoongi’s. “Until I’m hard.”

Yoongi’s hands start pressing against his chest at this, squeezing firmly, slowly, his fingers only brushing his nipples. Taehyung hears himself sigh, and he closes his eyes, arching into the touch. 

It’s not nearly as intense as other things they’ve done—Yoongi has played with his chest to tease him, to punish him, has used toys on his chest both to please and to bring pain. And yet this gentle, tender touch seems to be almost harder to handle. 

Taehyung’s breath cuts short when he feels Yoongi’s tongue press flat on his nipple, the tips of his hair brushing against his skin. His other hand keeps up the slow massage on his pec while his tongue swirls, teeth nipping carefully. 

“Like that,” Taehyung breathes out. “I like that.”

Yoongi hums, then sucks around Taehyung’s nipple, tongue teasing at it, while his fingers squeeze at the other one, bringing the faintest sting. Taehyung moans, quiet, relaxing under Yoongi’s touches. 

Fuck, it’s so easy like this, how is it so easy? It’s not that Taehyung ever doubted he would have liked this, but he expected some tension, or his nerves to play games on him.

Instead, Taehyung just wants to lay here and let the heat build. He can feel his nipples getting harder, more sensitive, until what stings turns into hot waves of this dull pleasure that spreads, and travels, down between his legs. It has his hips rolling against Yoongi’s, cock getting harder with each drag, body hotter the more Yoongi bites and sucks around his nipple. 

Even now, despite how many times they’ve done this, Taehyung fights with himself for a while to stay quiet, to not be loud. He swallows down a moan so that only a muffled whimper comes out, inhales harshly, and breathes out shaky and fast. But when Yoongi brings his mouth to his other pec, to lick a long stripe up to his clavicle, then down again, lips wrapping around his nipple, thumb rolling against the other, wet and sensitive, Taehyung makes a sound, louder, deep. He feels himself flush at it just as he feels Yoongi’s hips press against his ass, grinding slowly. He’s hard under his trousers, and Taehyung clenches without even realizing it.

Yoongi bites around him, hard enough it burns, and Taehyung shudders and, before he can think against it, he brings a hand behind Yoongi’s head, to tug at his hair.

“Yeah, fuck ,” Yoongi groans, pressing harder against Taehyung’s ass. He tweaks Taehyung’s nipple, licking around the other. “You can pull my hair, I like it.”

Taehyung snorts weakly. “All those-those times you called me a masochist and—”

“Well, you are,” Yoongi says with a flat voice and, to make his point, he leans down to bite at his chest.

Taehyung gasps, bucks his hips up. “Fuck, do that again.” 

Yoongi grins at him and drops a kiss on the spot he bit only to drag his teeth against his nipple. Taehyung whimpers, watching the pretty red lines Yoongi’s teeth leave as he goes, and he almost wants to press his fingers against them. He decides he’ll do that later, immediately distracted by Yoongi’s tongue, and then his teeth again, his lips, mouth so hot and wet when he sucks again.

They fall silent once more, lost in the slow pace of Yoongi’s teasing. Taehyung lets it wash over him, so aware of every press of Yoongi’s tongue and teeth, of the pressure of his fingers, of his own breathing that keeps hitching and faltering, of the moans he can’t hold back anymore—of his body, and how it shudders and arches, of the heat that has him feeling like he’s about to melt, his muscles stiffening and then loosening, his cock hard where it rubs against the fabric of Yoongi’s trousers. 

Taehyung wants Yoongi to stop and move on just as he wants him to keep going until his chest is burning and is so sensitive that pleasure turns into pain, but he’s getting desperate, his want so acute it aches somewhere inside him.

Yoongi’s breathing is hot and fast on his skin. He gropes at Taehyung’s chest, and tugs at a nipple with his teeth, pulling until Taehyung shudders against him.

“Please,” Taehyung hisses, rolling his hips. “Want more.”

“Yeah?” Yoongi swallows audibly, and Taehyung watches as he rises, kneeling back, thumbs still playing with his chest. “Tell me what you want.”

Yoongi’s lips are swollen, bruised red, and slick with spit. Taehyung’s mouth goes fucking dry. He wets his lips, notices that he’s still slowly grinding his hips, and decides he doesn’t care how desperate that makes him look. “Your fingers.”

Yoongi’s chest swells with a deep breath. Taehyung knows, by now, that he always has to breathe like this when something turns him on, almost like he’s holding himself back.

“Where do you want them?” He asks.

Taehyung swallows down a whine. His hand isn’t as steady as he wishes when he brings it between his spread legs, down to his hole to stretch it out. A hot, pleasing streak of smugness hits him hard when Yoongi’s lips part soundlessly at this, staring at Taehyung’s fingers. 

“Inside,” Taehyung says, stroking around his rim. “You said you’d make me come on your fingers.”

“I did.” Yoongi glances at him. “‘s that what you want?”

“Fuck, yeah .” 

Taehyung watches Yoongi reach for the lube. The cap is still wrapped in a protective layer of hard plastic, and Yoongi curses under his breath as he starts peeling it with blunt nails. Taehyung then realizes that Yoongi is fully-clothed still and that’s—

Moved by a spark of annoyance, Taehyung pushes himself up until he’s sitting straight. Without a word, aware of Yoongi’s attention on him, he tugs at the shirt until Yoongi seems to get the message and lifts his arms, helping Taehyung get rid of the damn thing.

“Happy now?” Yoongi asks with a smile.

“Sorry.”

“Not complaining.”

“It’s just—” Taehyung presses his lips together, one hand resting over Yoongi’s chest. He’s paler than him, but his skin is flushed such a pretty color now, and there’s fine, dark hair that trails down his belly, disappearing under the belt of his trousers. “I realized I’ve never seen you naked and—”

The rest of his sentence is forgotten the moment Yoongi drops the bottle of lube to wrap his arms around him instead, to kiss him hard, deep when Taehyung’s lips part for him. Yoongi makes a sound, pretty and deep when Taehyung tugs at his hair and strokes up his chest. 

When, eventually, Yoongi pulls back, his eyes are heavy and dark, his breath short. He says, “I haven’t been naked in front of someone else in a long time.”

Taehyung nods slowly. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Yoongi’s smile is soft and small. He leans in to press another kiss to Taehyung’s mouth and replies, “I think you should get me naked, actually.”

Oh.

Taehyung wonders if it’s only him who’s so touched by this. If he should be at all. But it must mean something, that he’s the one Yoongi trusts enough with this, so if his hands are clumsy when he unbuckles the leather belt, or if his fingers are shaking when they work the two buttons, he doesn’t care. Yoongi probably doesn’t either.

Getting rid of the trousers and socks is as awkward as anyone can imagine, but sex in general is, so Taehyung grins through it and Yoongi snorts at his obvious amusement. Once Yoongi is naked save for the briefs, Taehyung presses his mouth to the outline of his cock, hard and hot past the stretchy fabric, and tongues at it just to hear Yoongi hiss, to feel Yoongi’s hands in his hair.

“If you don’t stop I’ll fuck your mouth instead.”

“Mmh, maybe you should,” Taehyung says, and mouths at the fabric again, glancing up at Yoongi. “Your belt too could be put to good use.”

“Don’t tempt me, I’m trying to be nice today.”

“Good thing you bought a whole monthly supply of condoms, then.” Taehyung smirks. “I wouldn’t mind being pushed around a little, you know?”