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Borrowed Time

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The blood is pounding in his ears, he can hear it, muting all other sounds. There’s a sinking feeling in his stomach that he’s sure will make him sick. He can already taste the bile in the back of his throat. He’s breaking into a cold sweat, can feel his shirt still to his lower back. He’s disgusted, wants to look away, feels like he should, but he doesn’t. 


He knows this game. He’s played it before. The late-night visits, the muffled crying. Tae always seeks him out on days like these. Always just wants to be comforted, wants to feel wanted. Jungkook knows this, he knows this but still, he can’t turn him away.  


And now, there he is. Staring at Tae sitting on his bed, who looks up at him with those puppy dog eyes, and he feels his breath hitch. He’s so desperately in love. He admires the way Tae makes his emotions turn and switch and change and play them to different degrees.




He sees Tae mouth his name, sees his lips warp to make sound, but he can’t hear it. He wants to reply, but in truth, he’s still trying to follow Tae’s thoughts, his reasoning.


It’s late, late like all those other times Tae seeks him out. Except, Tae isn’t here for Jungkook’s comfort. Isn’t here to feel wanted. No. Tae is here to make a deal. A compromise, as he so claimed.


“You can say no.” Tae casts his head down, voice barely above a whisper. But this time Jungkook hears it. He hears it, but he still doesn’t know how to respond.


Tae goes to stand, head down and body lanky, as if he hasn’t been eating right. “J-just think about it,” he says as he walks past him and towards the bedroom door.


Jungkook panics. This isn’t how he wanted it. He’s thought about he, of course he has, but this isn’t how it was supposed to happen. No, Tae was supposed to see Hoseok for who he really is—an ugly, untalented, pathetic idol who’s never cared about him, who only cares about himself, about being successful, even at other’s expense.


Tae was supposed to hate Hoseok. 


But instead, it’s Hoseok’s influence that’s driven Tae to this. It’s that unbearable, disgusting, blinded loved that Tae has for Hoseok that’s the reason for this. Jungkook’s blood starts to pump faster through his body, heart beating harsher. It’s more than disgust he feels now, it’s anger. Anger and jealousy and he couldn’t let Tae walk out his door. No.


Tae was supposed to be in love with him.


“Wait.” The word comes out dry, choked.


There’s a sudden shift in the atmosphere of the room. It’s colder, quieter, confused. Jungkook wants to reach out, grab Tae by the shoulders and hold him in a tight embrace. Let him know that he doesn’t need to do this. That he should never have been driven to this thought.


Yet, he stands still, between his bed and Tae and he can smell him. That distinct smell of wood and fresh mud. Clean but musky. It makes him feel lightheaded.


“Why?” Jungkook’s mouth is dry, lips chapped and his voice is much harsher than it should be. He doesn’t want to scare Tae away. Doesn’t want him to think that he’s unwanted.


“You—I already told you.” And his voice is still small and soft. It’s beautiful and it makes Jungkook’s pulse thrum harder.


“Again, tell me again.” This time he can’t help it, he reaches for Tae, left hand landing on his shoulder, running down to thread their fingers together. And it feels perfect.


Tae squeezes Jungkook’s hand, turns to face him completely and laces his other hand with Jungkook’s right. Eyes never leaving the floor Tae’s voice keeps its softness, “I know how you feel. Feel…how you feel about me—about Hobi-hyung. I—don’t tell him, Kook-ah. If I… If you don’t want this, please don’t tell him,” and it’s then when he finally looks up. Eyes glistening with tears, fearful and hopeful at the same time.


He wants to kiss Tae. Wipe away all that distress and uncertainty that hides in his eyes. Wants to make him happy. Show him how much he’s loved and wanted and cared for. And it’s then, for the first time that night, that he considers saying yes.


“That doesn’t answer my question, Tae.” Their physical connection, their hands entwined, feels too warm. Scorching.


Tae breathes deeply, eyes locked onto Jungkook’s as he systematically, in a monotone like manner, restates his thoughts, “You have feelings for me, Kook-ah. I know it. Everyone knows it. And your feelings make you act out against Hobi-hyung. We’ve all seen it,” it’s then that his voice turns soft again and avoids Jungkook’s eyes by looking at the floor, “I- I love you too, Kook-ah. Don’t t-think I don’t. But, I don’t like the way you treat Hobi-hyung. He’s so kind, and compassionate, and always treats you right, treats all of us well, he’s serious sometimes but he’s fun and he…”


“Enough, Tae.” He’s biting his tongue, wants to tell Tae all the reasons he’s wrong, all the reasons why Hoseok is anything but. He wants to, wants to shake some sense into Tae, scream it in his face but he can’t. He just can’t.


“You’re my best friend, Kook-ah. O-of course I love you.”


There’s a warm feeling growing in the pit of his stomach at Tae’s words. He wishes he could hear them every day for the rest of his life. “So, you think that by offering yourself—that my attitude towards Hoseok will change?”


He sees Tae cringe at the loss of honorifics when addressing their hyung and he inwardly scoffs. How? How can Tae possibly think that he’ll address that clown properly? Especially now, in this situation.


Anger implodes from the pit of his stomach, bubbling to the surface and destroying the warm and comfortable feeling he had earlier. He untangles their hands, roughly grabs Tae by the shoulders and swings him around easily, throwing him onto the bed. Stands rooted in his spot, looking down at Tae who’s face reflects confusion.


“You honestly think that all I want is to fuck you?!” He sees Tae try to avoid his gaze and it only spurs his anger, reaching out and grabbing his jaw, large hand too rough that he sees Tae flinch in pain, “Look at me…” And Tae does, with those beautiful deep brown eyes of his, filled with tears that streak his face. Hurt, Jungkook withdraws his hand, trying to control himself, stepping away from the bed, from Tae.


“I..I don’t. It’s not… that’s not what I want, Tae.”


“Then what is it?” The question comes out in a whimper surrounded by hiccupped sobs.


Tae’s crying and it pains Jungkook to know it’s his fault. He doesn’t know what to do. He looks to his bed, Tae sitting in the middle, hunched over, defeated. It looks pitiful and Jungkook wants to fix it, but a small part of him wishes to let it continue, make him cry harder, hopes that Tae’s tears stain his bed, make it smell of him.


“You—I want you.”


Tae looks up, face a mess with tears but there’s a different look in his eyes—something Jungkook has only seen on rare occasions—anger.


“I’m giving you me! You want me? You can have me! Use me! Take me and be happy. Take me and leave him alone, Kook-ah!”


 This isn’t what he wanted. How he wanted it. No.


“I want you to stop loving him.” 


It’s shocking. Shocking to anyone that would hear him say it. Shocking even himself. But the look on Tae’s face doesn’t show shocked—it expresses pity.


“Why can’t I love you both?”


“Because you don’t love me the way you love him! But….” Vision starting to blur, Jungkook lowers his head, knowing what’s going to follow, “but I love you how you love him.”


He hates it. This. Everything about this stupid world. How dirty he feels anytime he thinks about his best friend. Hates how he feels. Hates how he wants to change, but can’t. The world is an unfair place and he hates it.


He wants to run, run far and away from everyone. Wants to be alone and cry. Cry in shame and disgust. Alone. Like he’s always been. Alone.


He’s crying now. His confession is something that everyone knew, everyone saw. But saying it aloud made it real. Now, it was out there, forever, ringing in the ears of the one he loves the most. Tae truly must pity him. Must really love Hoseok. That thought makes his head spin more, tears unstoppable now. He’s known to not be affected emotionally as easily as the others, yet here he stands, a pathetic man in love.


There’s a warmth surrounding his cheeks, cupping them and forcing him to look up, look into Tae’s eyes.




A small smile accompanies the name and Tae is forcing their heads closer, gently knocking their foreheads together.


“Kook-ah, I love you. I love you and that’s why I’m doing this.”


Jungkook’s breaths come short and small, he’s trying to control himself. But what Tae is saying, it makes it too hard.


“Look at me, Kook-ah.”


And Jungkook does. Because he’ll always do whatever Tae asks of him.


“Do you love me?”


Jungkook answers, “So much,” and he closes his eyes as tears threaten to spill over again, “I love you so much, Tae.”


“Then do this.”


Tae reaches down to link their hands for the second time that night and it steadies Jungkook. Holds him down to earth, unable to run away. It scares him, what Tae is saying, what he’s offering, but there’s excitement in his fear.


“Jungkookie,” Tae’s breathy whisper sends shivers throughout his body, “kiss me.”


He feels Tae move closer to his body, warmth radiating from it. He’s thought about this for so long, wanted it more than anything, and still he thinks that this isn’t what he wanted. How he wanted it.


A small pressure lands on his lips and he opens his eyes. Tae’s there, features soft and delicate and it makes Jungkook sob. It’s what he’s wanted. It’s what he’s cried over, yelled over, hurt over. He can’t do this. He can’t take advantage of his best friend. He can’t take advantage of Tae.


He pulls away gently, untangling their hands and looks directly at Tae’s face, “On the bed, sit on the bed, Tae.” And Tae relaxes, obeys as he makes his way over, sitting himself in the middle, back resting against the headboard.


Jungkook stands quietly, emotions muddled and disorderly. Sure, he’s wanted this for some time, but it was more than just this. He wanted Tae, all of him. His smile, his laughter, his touches and embraces. He wanted something he knew he would never get. And he would never get it because of Hoseok, because as long as Hoseok existed, Tae would give him his love. And that’s what Jungkook wanted the most—Tae’s love. Not this. Not his body. Not just a fuck toy to be used in times of frustration and then be disregarded.


No. That’s not what he wanted. But what he did want, he would never get. That happily ever after will never happen, not for him and not for Tae. So why was he fighting this idea so much? He’s been given a chance for some happiness-- a soiled, dirty happiness but it was happiness either way. He has Tae on his bed, ready to give him some semblance of the loved he craved so much. So why was he denying himself this?


“I love you, Taehyung.”


Jungkook approaches his bed, limbs heavy and mouth dry. He won’t say no. He wants this. And Tae wants this too. Why else would he agree to this? He wants this too, right?


Tae’s lips are a little chapped, Jungkook comes to realize, but it doesn’t make their kiss any less perfect. He’s on top, thighs between Tae’s right leg, right hand working underneath the blue pajama shirt, tracing patterns on the soft stomach. Lips continue their assault on Tae, his mouth, jaw, neck. God, his neck-- he smells so good. Jungkook can’t keep his face away, dipping down to the exposed collarbone, and back up, switches sides and continues the pattern.


He hears soft moans and feels hands grip his shoulders tighter with every new kiss he places on Tae’s body. He wants to see, see the lips that make those beautiful sounds, the golden skin underneath his fingers but right now he just wants to feel.


Completely unbuttoning Tae’s shirt, he moves his mouth down, down passed a nipple and straight to the soft belly, leaving kisses, marking him. And moves up again, tongue tracing a path from nipple to nipple, circling them without touching either one. It makes Tae squirm, arch his back and push his chest forward, desperate. His moans come out short and agitated and Jungkook can’t help the rocking his hips do on Tae’s thighs. He’s hard, so hard that he wants to hurry it up and burry himself in Tae, but Tae looks so beautiful that it makes him want to wait, want to push Tae more, find out how much more beautiful he can get.


He takes a nipple into his mouth, licking, sucking, tugging. The sounds Tae makes only spurs him on even more, using his hand to tease the other one, leaving nothing unattended. Tae’s hands shift from Jungkook’s shoulders to his neck, cradling his head, “Kook-ah, p-pants….shirt…too much—off.”


And who is Jungkook to deny that simple request? He straightens up, sits back and allows Tae room to take off his shirt and lay back down. Now, he can admire. Tae’s naked torso looks beautiful, radiant, so different than when he’s changing or walking around the dorm. And Jungkook was right, Tae hasn’t been eating right, too skinny even for his usual self. But still so beautiful. His tan skin a gorgeous contrast on the white sheets underneath him. His boxers peaking above the waistline of his pajama pants, too tight around the crotch.


A spark of heat ignites in his chest, warming his body—pride. Proud that it was him who turned on Tae, who has him breathing deeply and slowly, anticipating what will happen next. Proud that the noticeable hard-on was meant for him, made by him. No one else.


He runs his hands down Tae’s sides, thumbs stopping at the jutting hipbones on display and stroking them. Bending down to steal another kiss, Tae surprises him by thrusting upwards, seeking some type of friction, obviously becoming desperate. Jungkook smiles into the kiss, sneaking his hand past the hip it was holding down to the erection confined in silky boxes and plaid pajama bottoms.


Tae groans, relieved and distracted, their kiss becoming disjointed. Jungkook keeps a light grip, teasing but stroking tenderly, moving his attention to Tae’s neck wanting to leaving marks but thought better of it. Because then the others would know something happened with Tae. Because the others wouldn’t know who made those marks. So then what was the point?


“N-no marks, Jungkookie,” Tae exhales slowly when Jungkook spends too much time on one spot, too much pressure against that patch of skin. It makes sense, he just thought about not leaving behind evidence of their night together, but hearing it from Tae himself doesn’t sit well with him.


And then it makes sense. The spots Tae often sported weren’t bug bites. The reason he chose to wear turtlenecks when it was still warm outside, the scarves he claimed were just fashion accessories, the reason the stylists were often annoyed with him.


“You’ve done this before, haven’t you?”


Jungkook moves away, removing his hand from inside Tae’s boxers, sitting back. He can’t risk getting angry and hurting Tae. Not now, not when they’ve gone so far.


“Wh-wha… Kook-ah?” Tae looks confused and upset and so, so beautiful. His hair is sticking to his forehead, matted with sweat, naked from the waist up and a light, barely-there flush spreading across his chest. The tip of his cock caught between the waistband and his belly.


“Tell me,” Jungkook scoots back, leans down, blows on the exposed head of Tae’s cock and looks up, “did he ever suck you off?” Tae groans, louder this time and Jungkook doesn’t know if that’s an answer. He starts dragging down Tae’s pants, trying to free him, have him completely exposed and vulnerable underneath him. “Did he ever do it because he wanted to? Because your pretty little dick looked too good that he had to have it down his throat?”


He didn’t want to know the answer, because he already knew the truth. Of course he did. Everyone did.


Jungkook’s never sucked a dick before. He’s fooled around, he’s had Jimin on his knees for him, gagging but he’s never been in this position. He never wanted to, never felt the need to but now, now it’s all he can think about.


He wants Tae to lose himself, break apart for him, just so he can put him back together. So he tries. Starts by making long licks from base to tip and that has Tae breathing quicker. He nuzzles at Tae’s thighs, placing small kisses before trying to swallow all of Tae’s cock in one go. Tae chokes on air and Jungkook chokes around the cock in his mouth. He starts using his hands, remembers what Jimin does to him, stroke, twist and suck on the tip. It works on Tae like it works on him. Perfectly. So he does it again. And again.


Tae is starting to lose control, bucking into Jungkook’s mouth, hands buried in the softness of Jungkook’s hair and Jungkook really thinks that this is the first-time Tae has been given head. Why else would he be so close already? Why else would he seem so desperate? And the thought makes Jungkook’s blood boil. How could that bastard not give Tae something so simple? He thinks that Hoseok only uses Tae as a hole, and that’s not what he wants Tae to think of him…. That’s why Tae came to him thinking that’s all he wanted…Tae is used to this— used to being taken advantage of.


And Jungkook’s heart breaks.


“Mmm…H-ho…” Tae’s moan is cut off by his own hand coming to cover his mouth. Jungkook doesn’t miss it, hears what Tae was about to say, who he was about to call out for.


He feels disgusted. He pulls away, satisfied with soft sob that escapes Tae. If he’s going to cum, he’s going to cum with Jungkook’s name leaving his lips.


Jungkook stands, tearing away his clothes and looks at Tae. “Show me.”


And again, Tae looks confused, “S-show you wh-what, Kook-ah?”


“What you do to him. What your mouth does to him—why he keeps coming back to you.”


He’s angry, jealous and he knows having Tae suck him off now can lead to him being too rough, but he doesn’t care. He wants to know-- what makes Tae so good, why Hoseok keeps using him.


Tae stays silent as he moves from the bed, taking his place on the floor, kneeing before Jungkook’s half-hard cock. “I t-thought…” eyes never meeting Jungkook’s, he mumbles, “…you’d be more excited.”


Jungkook says nothing, stands stiff. He was, of course he was excited. The moment Tae kissed him, it stirred something deep, hot and desperate. How does Tae not know how crazy he makes him, how much he’s wanted? There’s always excitement for Jungkook, as long as Tae is somewhere around.


But the thoughts that ran through his head, the idea of Hoseok touching Tae, the picture of Hoseok taking and taking and taking and never giving back, the notion that even after that, Tae is still blindly in love… it was fucked up.


All of this was.


“Kookie,” the hot breath against his thigh brings him out of his thoughts, “I’ve heard Jimin-ah and you doing things… and it’s made me curious.”


There’s a hot suction at the base, close to his balls, a vibration from Tae’s moan and his knees almost buck. It was unexpected, too fast, but it makes sense. It’s Tae. Tae would do something like that.


He’s never seen this side of Tae before. He’s pictured it, those lonely nights he spent alone, or even when he was with Jimin, broken and desperate. He’s pictured Tae on his knees, beautiful lips wrapped around his cock, lovely eyes staring up at him, nimble hands working him up and down. But what he has now is even better. Tae licking and licking, hands maintaining a strong hold, mumbled words spilling from his mouth—teasing. This must be payback. And he never imagined Tae to talk dirty, and now he wants to know if he will. “Curious—fuck—about what?”


Tae looks up, eyes distant but still as beautiful, “How good your cock must be,” and fuck, Tae’s voice is low, too low, manages to send shivers throughout Jungkook’s entire body, pulse quickening, “to make Jimin-ah blush and stutter whenever he’s around you.”


And finally, finally Tae takes him into his mouth, so warm and wet. Placing his hands on Jungkook’s thighs for support, he bobs his head in short and shallow movements. It’s good, so, so good that Jungkook wants to keep watching but it feels so good, that his eyes drift closed and head tilts back. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands, he doesn’t want to interrupt Tae’s pace—it’s perfect—so he awkwardly keeps them placed on his side, allowing himself to just feel.


Tae keeps the teasing pace a while longer, then switches to long and deep sucks and Jungkook knows he’s close to cumming. But he wants this to last, he wants to fuck Tae, because just as much as this is his first chance, it might also be his last. But then there’s Tae’s dirty tongue again, adding pressure to the underside and oh, oh.


Tae can deepthroat.


Jungkook has to hold himself off, pull Tae away, grabbing him by his hair, maybe a little to roughly judging by Tae’s pained groan.


Tae sits back, naked, mouth red and abused, spit coating the entirety of his lips, hair in disarray, probably tangled, small smirk playing on his lips, “Can Jiminie do that?”


Jungkook smiles, because of course Tae would care about something like that. And he has to admit, “No, he can’t.”


The smirk on Tae’s face turns into a genuine smile and Jungkook falls even more. Madly and disgustingly in love and it feels right. Right now, this moment, it finally feels right.


“Get on the bed, Taetae.”


He obeys, sitting himself against the headboard just as before and Jungkook heads for his dresser, rummaging through it to find the almost empty bottle of lube he has hidden there. He turns back and walks over to the bed, sitting himself between Tae’s spread legs and it’s tempting. But he wants to take this slow. He hands the bottle over to Tae, “Show me what you like.”


“Kook-ah?” The questioning tone reflecting that Tae doesn’t know what it means.


“Work yourself open, I wanna see you—wanna see what you like,” Tae reaches to take the bottle from Jungkook’s hand, “so I can do it you the next time you come to my room in the middle of the night.”


It’s a dangerous thing to say. Tae was the one that came up with this idea, the one to approach him. He was obviously okay with making this more than a onetime thing, right?


“Y-yeah, okay.” A blush spreads across Tae’s cheeks.


Tae takes his time, works himself up by touching himself, running his hands over his chest, lightly rubbing his nipples and fingertips creating patterns on his stomach that makes him moan breathily and deeply.


So, Tae likes to be touched. A lot. Jungkook takes note.


Finally, he reaches for the bottle of lube and Jungkook thinks he’s going to stroke himself, tease himself more but what he actually does is surprising. He bypasses his erection and goes straight to his hole. He’s shivering now as his index finger traces his rim, still teasing.


Jungkook’s enjoying the show. It’s really, truly something he’s always wanted to see. He wants to touch too, but Tae agreed to an unspoken promise—there will another time. He can wait, he can be patient. But he’s hard, so unbelievably hard that he wants Tae to hurry, but he feels happy, as strange as it sounds, happy that Tae is letting him see this.


But… Tae’s not doing this for Jungkook. He’s not doing this for himself. He’s doing it for Hoseok.


“You really do love him, don’t you?” Tae stops at Jungkook’s words, never having pressed his finger in and looks up.


His head tips back, body relaxed against the bed, voice laced with a whiny tone, “Kook-ah, don’t.”


“You wouldn’t do this if you didn’t, right? Because you love him, and want to protect him…” he’s getting angry because he knows it’s the truth. His frustration grows as he realizes that anytime he’s with Tae, the ghost of Hoseok’s touches will always linger. He’ll always be reminded that Tae isn’t his.


And yet, his erection is still prominent. “Finger yourself, Tae. Do it so I can finally fuck you.”


And again, Tae obeys. Works himself to three fingers, straining in the position he’s in, and Jungkook starts to grow impatient.


“Up, on your hands and knees.”


Tae adjusts to the new position, limbs wobbly and uncoordinated. Jungkook grabs the bottle and pours lube on his fingers, finally, finally touching Tae.


And it’s not the first time he’s done this—has had practice with Jimin, but this, this was different. It was Taehyung. One finger moving in slow motions, in and out, other hand softly moving up and down his back, massaging, soothing. Tae likes to be touched, at all times, and Jungkook leans down to kiss the left dimple of his lower back as he adds another finger.


It seems to make Tae weak, weaker than he already looks and his arms give out. He’s laying on his chest, arms flat out around his head and Jungkook has to steady himself, take a deep breath and adds another finger. Tae worked himself to three, Jungkook wouldn’t hurt him by moving so fast. But Jungkook wants to see Tae fall apart. Completely.


Tae’s moans come out muffled, deep, rumbling throughout the sheets. He likes this, Jungkook thinks. There’s no pace, no pattern. Fingers move in straight, rigid motions. The overwhelming need to hear Tae, have Tae moan louder, loud enough that the others might hear him has Jungkook crooking his fingers, twisting them like Jimin taught him—and it worked.


Tae shakes, unexpected pleasure sparking from their point of connection, but he just shoves his head further into the bed. Moans hidden and unheard. So Jungkook does it again, and again, and again. But Tae doesn’t give, doesn’t want his voice heard.


Annoyed, Jungkook goes back to the mechanical fingering he was doing before. If Tae won’t let his voice be heard, Jungkook wasn’t going to give him a reason to voice his pleasure. He was just going to take. Take what he wanted. Just like Hoseok.


When he’s finally convinced that he’s worked Tae open enough, he pulls his fingers out, picks up the lube bottle once again and coats his cock.


Tae must hear the slick sounds, anticipating what’s going to happen next, “Jungkookie,” and Tae sounds wrecked, “d-don’t cum inside…out…pullout.”


Jungkook hadn’t thought that far ahead. But again, having Tae telling him what he couldn’t do, he didn’t like it. Why couldn’t he come inside? He was clean. Had Tae been thinking about this? Why not just use a condom?




Tae didn’t want Jungkook to mark him. To stain his little hole. To dirty him. To claim him. Because that was reserved for Hoseok. Of course it was. Because Hoseok was allowed to cum in him. Because Tae loved Hoseok.


He grips Tae’s hips, turns him around so that he's on his back and retakes his position.


“I wanna see you,”


He slides in, heat enveloping him, doesn’t stop, doesn’t stop until he’s fully covered.


“I wanna hear you.”


And he does. Tae doesn’t try to hide this time, doesn’t try to hide his body. He seems displaced. Eyes shut, cock hard and bouncing with every thrust, chest heaving and Jungkook loves it.


He sets a pattern—slow, deep and measured thrusts. Rolls his hips like he does when he dances, practiced. And it feels good. So, so good. And it looks good, Tae looks good.


He touches, runs his hands over Tae’s chest, nipples, stomach. Teasingly strokes his cock, grips his thighs and kisses them. Reaches down and cups his ass, controlling his thrusting with his grip. Leans down to kiss him, slow and deep, mimicking the way he’s fucking into him. Tangles their hands together, holding each other.


It's perfect. 


It hasn’t been long but he’s already close and seeing Tae’s red, dripping cock reacting to every movement tells him that he’s close too.


He holds Tae down, pins his shoulders to the bed and picks up the pace. He feels Tae tense and thinks it’s because of the power play but then Tae clenches around him and white streaks paint his belly, brash whimpers leaving his mouth. Tae came untouched. Beautiful.  


He doesn’t last after that, pulls out and adds to the mess already on Tae’s stomach. He hunches over, energy being replaced with a lethargic feeling, places a chaste kiss on Tae’s quivering mouth, who’s still breathing harshly.


He stays hunched over, buries his head in Tae’s neck. He’s sweaty, they both are and yet Tae still smells the same—that wonderful, intoxicating smell that Jungkook knows his bed will smell like until he washes the sheets. He licks at Tae’s neck, wants to taste, to remember.


Sluggishly, he falls to the side, dick soft and eyes heavy.


It’s late. He’s tired. Exhausted, really. Mind and body. Tae moves to reach for his t-shirt on the floor. He cleans himself and Jungkook, wordlessly and face expressionless.


Once done with the clean-up, he scoots close to Jungkook, both still naked, now cold from the dried sweat on their bodies.


“Was it good, Kook-ah?”


And he sounds so sweet. Innocent.


“So good, Tae.”


“Mmm, I’m glad.”


Tae kisses his neck, cuddles up to his side and it feels right. Just the two of them, warm and tired. Jungkook closes his eyes, listens to Tae’s lax breathing, feeling his warmth, comforting him and lulling him to sleep. This is what he wanted. This is the happiness he craved.


It hasn’t been long, doesn’t feel long and when he opens his eyes he sees it’s still dark outside. The warmth he felt before gone. Panic sets in and he feels disorientated. It wasn’t a dream, he knows it wasn’t, but wishes it was.


What was he going to do now? How was he going to face Tae? Hoseok? Jimin? But this was Tae’s idea. But he was the one that fell into the trap. Tae still didn’t love him. He loved Hoseok. That’s why he offered himself, to curve Jungkook’s aggression, giving him a taste—a taste of what it would be like to have his love returned.


He turned in his bed, facing the door. Tae was gone, door left open and lights off. It makes sense. How could he expect Tae to spend the entire night with him? He probably went off to cuddle with the other. To feel the embrace of the bastard he actually loves. The bastard that doesn’t deserve his love.


He feels disgusted. Pitiful. He was such a fool. But in some sickening way, he was happy. Relieved. It wasn’t perfect. It could never be perfect. But there were moments that were as close to perfect as it was ever going to be. And he could live with that. Could continue his life with Tae, with Jimin, with all of them.


Tae wasn’t his. He’ll never be his. But he could have him on borrowed time.


It’s the last thought before his eyes drift close, heart beating calmly, pulse running smoothly, body and soul completely unburdened.


 At least for tonight.


What Jungkook doesn’t hear as he falls back asleep are the stifled cries coming from outside his room. Unmistakable deep sobs that could only belong to one person. A person who was just as confused, just as lost and just as big a fool, who was pathetically, desperately and hopelessly in love.