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Raspberry Frosting

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Seokjin had liked the elderly couple that previously lived next door. The woman was white-haired, gentle and kind. She spoke softly over baked goods and always had a smile to offer when one would cross her path. Her husband was much more quiet and reserved, but a curt nod of the head always told Seokjin that he acknowledged that they were on okay terms. They were peaceful. Seokjin liked them.

They were everything his new neighbours are not.

His new neighbours are loud. His new neighbours throw too many parties. His new neighbours are absolutely insufferable, and he’s not sure how much more he can take.

He’s never met them, not all of them anyway. He vaguely remembers waving to one or two of them is passing. He’s not even sure how many people live in that one house now, but if he had to guess he’d say four or five. Four or five young, noisy, pain in the asses.

It’s almost midnight on a thursday night, and the music blares through his closed window. His closed window. He wants to screams as he looks over at his alarm clock and it practically laughs at him. You need to be awake in just over five hours, ha-ha .

It’s not that Seokjin is a prune. He likes parties enough, he can have a good time, and he’s never filed a complaint. It’s just, he’s exhausted and morning comes far too quick. He just wants to sleep, to be left to some semblance of peace and quiet on a weeknight. Is that such an awful thing to want?

So he decides he’s had enough.

He groans as he slips out of bed, every last cell in his body begging to crawl back in and curl up in his blanket. He throws on a pair of pajama pants, because hey, the neighbours probably wouldn't appreciate him showing up with no pants. Not that he really cares about what they want right now, but pants sound good.

As soon as he steps outside, the warm and clammy air sticks to his skin, a painful reminder that summer is here and it never leaves, not even when the sun takes a break. He instantly misses the cool breeze of his oscillating fan, still whirring up a storm in his bedroom where he should be.

The music from the house next door gets louder and louder with each step he takes up the front walkway. It sounds like reject techno that no self respecting adult would ever subject themselves to. Come to think of it, he doesn’t even know how old they are.

As he knocks once, twice, with enough force to hopefully be heard over the thumping bass of the music, he hopes he doesn’t come off as a crusty old man. He’s only twenty-five and all he wants is a good night’s sleep.

For a moment, there’s no answer, and Seokjin thinks maybe he didn’t knock loud enough. He sighs, the warm air feels suffocating and god, all he wants to do is go home. He raises his hand, ready to pound on the door again, when it opens wide.

He’s never met this one, he notes as he looks him over. He’s thin, red hair, and all smiles, heart shaped lips grinning his way as he brightly says, “Hey neighbour!”

He’s clearly seen Seokjin before.

Seokjin returns the grin, it feels like a good place to start. “Hey, sorry, I don't think we’ve met. I’m Seokjin, and -”

“Who is it, Hobi?”

Seokjin stops breathing. He stops breathing, because another boy’s popped up, hooking his chin over Hobi’s shoulder, large doe-like eyes peering at him with curiosity and the faintest hint of a smile. He’s got dark hair, almost black, but it’s shining with a halo that surely isn’t normal. Everything about him screams soft, and Seokjin is sure he’s never seen anyone quite as attractive.

Hobi tilts his head at Seokjin, a small twinkle of curiosity in his eyes, and Seokjin mentally slaps himself for being so obviously dumbstruck in the second boy’s company.

“This is… Seokjin, you said? He’s our neighbor, Kookie.”

Cookie? Seokjin likes cookies.

Hobi continues, “And my guess is, he’s here because we’re being too loud. Am I right?” he gives Seokjin an apologetic smile, and Kookie laughs.

“Sorry, sir,” Kookie says with the most endearing smile Seokjin has ever seen, front teeth showing. He chooses to ignore the way sir off his tongue and the way it stirs something inside of him. Because this kid might actually be a kid.

“I-it’s fine, I just work really early in the morning and-”

“Say no more. We’ll keep it down,” Hobi says with another bright smile. Seokjin wonders if the boy is drunk, or if he’s always so cheery.

He gives a nervous grin back, and an awkward wave with a mumbled thank you. And then the door is closed, and he’s heading back to his bed. His sweet, comfortable bed.

And Seokjin would be straight up lying if he said he didn’t think about the young boy with the wide eyes and the bright smile as he curled up into bed, closed his eyes, and waited for morning.

Maybe the neighbours aren’t so bad.

Seokjin sits on his couch, his feet sore from work, mindlessly flipping through channels. He settles on the cooking channel, as usual, and let’s his mind wander over what to cook for dinner. Cooking, something he loves and considers himself rather good at.

It’s just before he’s about to get up, maybe prep something to eat, when there’s a knock on his door. When he swings it open, he’s genuinely surprised to see Hobi on the other side.

“Oh, hey,” he greets, opening the door wider to allow the boy inside.

“Hey!” And there’s that bright smile again, it spreads across his face and leaves a comfortable feeling in the pit of Seokjin’s stomach. “I never introduced myself last night, did I? I’m Hoseok!” he says as he steps inside and takes a wide glance around.

“I heard the other one call you Hobi?”

Hoseok laughs, a light and airy noise. It’s pleasant. “Oh, no, that’s just a nickname. And that other one was Jungkook,” he says, and Seokjin swears he sees a mischievous glint in his eyes, as if he knows something Seokjin does not.

“So what brings you by?” Seokjin asks carefully.

“Oh! Right. We’re having a barbeque tonight, and Yoongi - he lives with us - said I should come by and invite you. You know, to make up for disturbing you last night and all.”

Seokjin thinks about it, but it doesn’t take him long. He’s officially intrigued by his new neighbours, and he could never turn down free food, especially free grilled food. He can already feel his mouth start to water.

“Yeah, of course! Sounds great. Just let me wash up and I’ll head over?”

Hoseok beams at him. “Of course! We’ll be in the backyard, so just come around the side of the house. Jungkook says to bring swim shorts.”

And with that, he winks and he’s skipping out the door, leaving a very confused Seokjin in his wake.

He showers quite quickly, at an almost alarming speed. When he’s dressed (in his nicest - and only - pair of swim shorts) and ready to go he stalls in his kitchen, killing time. He doesn’t want to seem eager. But then again, he also is very quite eager.

The short walk feels sort of prolonged, the heat of the outdoors wisping with him as he walks, curling around his limbs and making him feel sluggish. It’s a stark contrast to the hollering he can hear from the backyard as he approaches. He pushes open the gate. And everything falls silent as all eyes fall on him.

Hoseok greets him with a grin so impossibly wide, it splits his face. His hand waves enthusiastically as his other clutches a bottle of beer. There’s a short male, bright blonde hair, and he sits lounging on a chair by the pool, peering at him over the top of his sunglasses. Seokjin recognizes him, he’s seen this one before.

Seated on the ground next to him, phone in hand, is Jungkook. His legs are crossed underneath him, and he’s looking at Seokjin like a predator may gaze upon it’s prey and Seokjin shifts uncomfortably on his feet, closing the gate behind him.

“Hey,” he greets, glancing around the yard. It really is quite nice, much nicer than Seokjin’s only feet away. He already knew that though, as this is the yard he’s been able to peer into for the past year or so. It feels different standing in it, almost like he shouldn't be there.

But the friendly faces around him say something else.

“Seokjin, right? Glad you could come.” It’s the familiar blonde on the chair who speaks up, standing to his feet and making his way to Seokjin, extending a hand. Seokjin shakes it with a smile.

“My name’s Yoongi. You’ve met Hoseok and Jungkook, and over there, defiling our pool, is Taehyung and Jimin. Don’t mind them, they’re just in that disgusting, shameless honeymoon stage,” Yoongi says, with a light-hearted chuckle to his words.

“Do all of you live here?” Seokjin asks in awe.

“Each and every one! And one more too, but Namjoon is working a little late today. Hopefully you’ll get to meet him,” Hoseok pipes in, offering a bottle to Seokjin as he sits on a chair next to him. There’s droplets of condensation running down the side, the label already looking slightly dampened, and it looks so inviting. Seokjin takes it with a thank you.

“So six of you live here? Wow. That… That explains a lot,” Seokjin says with a huff of laughter. The others join in, a few of them having the decency to look a little sheepish as they chuckle. Not that Seokjin meant any harm by the comment. He’s decided he sort of likes these guys, and he’s looking forward to having neighbours he can actually talk to.

A comfortable air hangs around them, a relaxing aura as everyone falls into comfortable conversation. Taehyung and Jimin can be heard shrieking in the pool, howls of laughter and splashes of water erupting from their playful energy.

“So tell us about yourself,” Jungkook says, placing his phone into his lap and propping his chin on his palm. Seokjin finds himself staring a beat too long, enamoured by the boy’s childlike curiosity.

“Well, I’m twenty-five years old, I’m Head Chef at a little high-end restaurant downtown, and I live alone. Bought my own house at twenty-three and I haven’t looked back,” Seokjin says with pride, tilting his bottle to his lips and taking a long swig.

"You’re older than all of us,” Jungkook replies, and there’s a strange sense of awe in his voice that Seokjin can’t place. Yoongi, however, seems to understand Jungkook’s interest and he snickers.

“Down boy.”

“Shut up! I didn’t say anything.”

“You were thinking it.”

“Was not!” Jungkook wails his arms in exasperation, and gives Seokjin an apologetic smile. “Sorry, they seem to think I have a thing for older men.”

Maybe it’s because Seokjin is in a good mood today, or maybe it’s the sense of comfort one gets from meeting new people you just connect with. But he fixes Jungkook with a pointed stare and asks, “Do you?”

Something dark flashes in Jungkook’s eyes, before his features fall into what can only be described as unabashed wonder. He tilts his head, matching Seokjin’s stare.

“Do I?”

“How old are you anyway, kid?”

Seokjin is painfully aware of the other four pairs of eyes on him, joining Jungkook’s. He can’t see Hoseok or Yoongi, but he can see Taehyung and Jimin, arms propped up on the edge of the pool as they intently watch the interaction between the oldest and the youngest, all water play completely ceased. There’s a smirk on Jimin’s lips that’s putting an unease in Seokjin’s veins.

Jungkook stands, brushing any remnants of the ground from his swim shorts, before his fingertips dance lightly at the hem of his shirt, and he swoops it over his head in one smooth motion.

If there was any moisture on Seokjin’s tongue, it’s all gone now. He swallows thickly, the dryness scratchy. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it most certainly wasn’t the body of his wet dreams. Jungkook is lean, but so deliciously toned and his sun kissed skin almost looks unreal.

“Old enough,” Jungkook says simply. “And don’t call me kid.”

There’s a beat of silence that lingers between them before Jungkook flashes a bright smile, adorable bunny teeth on display, and then he’s taking a running leap into the pool, water erupting around him as he breaks the surface.

“Get in the pool, loser!” Jungkook shouts as he resurfaces, and Seokjin tries extra hard not to stare at the water that runs off his shoulders.

He really does try. He fails , but he tries.

He sets his drink down on the table with purpose, and stands, his shirt lifted over his head with ease.

“You bunch are going to be the death of me,” he mutters.

He jumps in the pool to a chorus of hooting and hollering.

Seokjin’s chest felt warm. He had always been a rather secluded person. Not that he didn’t enjoy the company of other people, he was just a lone wolf by design at the end of the day. He’s a hard worker, an eager builder of a lavish lifestyle, and it keeps him mostly to himself. He had friends, still does, but he doesn’t see them as often as he wishes he could say he does. It’s just how it is.

But as he sits amongst the six of them, there’s a certain pull at his core and he finds himself fitting amongst them like a missing puzzle piece. Namjoon had returned home, and he watched as the six young men all became one large, jumbled family and for once in his life, he sort of wanted to be around people. He liked them.

Yes, they’re loud. But he was discovering, with great enthusiasm and a wide smile permanently plastered on his face, they are loud for a reason.

They laughed with earnest at each other, they poked fun at the most embarrassing things Seokjin had ever heard (Jimin and Taehyung have a knack for forgetting to close their door when they do less than holy things, something Seokjin really didn’t need to know). Their love for one another is the second most obvious thing in the yard.

The first most obvious thing?

The way Jungkook keeps looking at him like he wants to absolutely devour him .

Seokjin’s not afraid. No, not at all. He finds that there’s a little bit of smugness in the way he feels when he catches Jungkook’s intense gaze on him as they sit around a large table, seated on mismatched chairs, eating grilled food and tipping back endless bottles. What Seokjin is, is nervous.

Because yeah, he could give in and he could take that little shit’s hand and push him into the nearest room they find. Seokjin could take Jungkook to places he’s only dreamed of. He could, in the most literal of ways, rock Jungkook’s world.

Trouble is, old enough isn’t a very good answer. Old enough doesn’t change the light from red to green. Old enough isn’t good enough.

So Seokjin puts his metaphorical foot down and he tries to ignore the youngest. It’s a frustrating ordeal, because he quickly discovers that the more he ignores the kid, the harder Jungkook’s attempts get. And suddenly, Seokjin isn’t just trying to ignore Jungkook. Now he’s also trying to ignore himself and his stupid, intrusive, and highly inappropriate thoughts.

“Kook, eat your food like a normal human being and stop trying to seduce our new friend,” Yoongi says, but there’s an underlying laugh hidden in his words that Seokjin doesn’t miss. Clearly he’s the only one who doesn’t find the situation particularly funny. Amusing, maybe. Funny, not so much.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Jungkook replies smoothly, his gaze still wholly focused on Seokjin, his face void of any reaction to Yoongi’s accusation.

The youngest picks up another piece of meat from his plate. “So Seokjin, you say you’re a chef?” Seokjin nods, feeling scrutinized under Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m assuming you like food then?”

Seokjin chuckles lightly. “Don’t we all?”

Jungkook hums a soft noise of agreement. “Yes, but you must really love food? I bet you can really spice things up.”

Seokjin chokes on his mouthful of food, and he hears Taehyung do the same.

“Christ, Kookie!”

“What?” Seokjin asks, his eyes wide as he flicks his surprised gaze Jungkook’s way. The younger shrugs, gazing around the table at all the watchful, and highly amused eyes. Seokjin is learning, very quickly, that none of them have any shame, especially Jungkook.

“I’m sorry, was I wrong? Are you more of a bland guy?” He says, slowly placing the piece of meat onto his tongue as those darkened eyes land back on him, and Seokjin swears he sees a smirk form on his lips. He wonders where the childish twinkle went. “I can help you with that.”

Yupp, Seokjin is screwed. He chews slowly, processing the situation as best as his currently muddled brain can. It’s a tricky task, maneuvering the intricate maze that’s forming in his mind with every gaze, tug of the lips, and tongue peeking out from the mouth of the devil sitting across from him.

His resolve is thinning, slipping from between his fingers. His grasp wasn’t exactly tight anyways, but still. He’s losing it. His limbs feel hot, and his stomach is fluttering with the need to lurch forward and pin the boy to the concrete and show him how bland he most certainly is not.

It takes a moment for him to realize how quiet everyone has become. When he does, he gazes around the table and all expectant eyes are on him, as if waiting for his response. He swallows thickly, feeling the glide of his half-chewed food.


A smile tugs on Jungkook’s lips.

“I… need to pee,” he finishes lamely, mentally slapping himself so hard he can almost physically feel it.

Jungkook’s smirk grows entirely satisfied as he points to the patio door. “Second door on your left,” he says, eyes positively twinkling with amusement. As Seokjin stands and wanders inside, purposely ignoring the gazes he can feel following his trail, he offhandedly wonders what sort of trouble he’s gotten himself into today.

He makes his way through the kitchen, spotting the hallway with relative ease. Once he’s closed himself in the bathroom, he just stands there. Truth is, he didn’t have to pee at all. He looks around, appreciating how clean it is despite six young men sharing the facilities. It’s impressive to say the least.

He shifts for a couple minutes before he decides he’s spent enough time fake urinating to make it believable. He flushes for good measure, washes his hands, and he steps out of the bathroom.

When he makes it out the hallway, with fierce intent on making his way back outside with his head held high, he stops dead in his tracks.

Jungkook is in the kitchen, and he’s leaning against the counter next to the patio door. His eyes are trained down at his hand, scrolling through the phone he’s clutching. When he senses Seokjin’s presence, his eyes snap up to meet Seokjin’s own widened ones. 

“Hey neighbor,” he says, and Seokjin would be a fool to not notice how much lower his voice sounds now that it’s just the two of them. He swallows down his nerves, composing himself as best he can under the surprising circumstance.  

“Listen kid, I’m not sure what you’re playing at, but my food’s getting cold out there and-”

“Come here. I made something and I want to show you. Professional opinion and all that jazz.” Jungkook crooks his fingers and gestures for Seokjin to come closer.

When Seokjin approaches, he receives a hard jab in the chest.

“I told you not to call me kid ,” Jungkook says with narrowed eyes that hold absolutely no malice. Seokjin laughs at the failed attempt to look threatening.

“Anyways, I made these this afternoon, do you like them?” Jungkook moves aside to reveal a plate with eight cupcakes on it, and they’re decorated with what looks like great precision. They look as edible as anything Seokjin could bake. “They’re vanilla with raspberry buttercream,” Jungkook continues as he reaches out and grabs one.

“I’m honestly not that great at baking,” Seokjin admits. “Cooking and baking are different. I can bake something okay, but it’s definitely not my forte.”

Jungkook nods lightly, dipping a single finger into the perfectly swirled white icing on top and bringing up a substantial dollop. He brings the finger to his mouth and his pink tongue darts out to lick the sugary topping clean. “They say I have a knack for baking. You say you don't bake, but you can still appreciate a nice, thick icing, can’t you?”

He dips his finger into the icing again, and brings it up to Seokjin's closed lips. “Open up. Try it.”

There’s nothing but lust swirling in the brown of his irises as Jungkook watches his finger closely, waiting for Seokjin to part his lips.

Seokjin swallows, watching Jungkook’s darkened eyes, his eager expression, and he does. He parts his lips, and Jungkook’s finger presses onto his tongue, the raspberry flavour exploding his tastebuds. It makes him dizzy.

Or maybe that’s just the noise Jungkook makes when Seokjin closes his lips around the boy’s finger.

It’s a groan so small it’s almost inaudible, and it slips from his throat and out of Jungkook’s slightly gaping mouth, and Seokjin swirls his tongue lightly around the digit. “Fuck, that’s hot,” Jungkook whispers with a hint of awe.

A shudder runs up Seokjin’s spine, from the very base and all the way to the nape of his neck. Jungkook slowly pulls his finger from between Seokjin's lips, not a single trace of icing left, and he smiles wide, so full of vibrant triumph and eager excitement.

Seokjin contemplates his next move, his mind racing as fast as his beating heart in his chest. He could sidestep Jungkook, head for the door, go outside and finish his dinner like nothing happened. He could do that. Absolutely. Or…

“How old are you?”

Jungkook’s smile falters for a split second before he catches the look on Seokjin’s face, surely screaming how very badly he does not want to go back outside. His grin reappears, dripping with pending victory.

“I’m twenty.”

Seokjin’s heart stops.

“Fuck yes,” he breathes, and then he’s lurching forward, caging Jungkook between him and the edge of the counter so fast Jungkook’s back bends to accommodate the position. Their lips crash together, and he feels Jungkook chuckle lowly, the noise vibrating against his lips.

Jungkook’s hands snake between them to press against Seokjin’s chest, a bearing to keep him upright, a way to stabilize himself as he puts his full force into the kiss. Seokjin feels the push from Jungkook, but he knows it’s not to back off or retreat. It’s an invitation to take him, steal his breath from his lungs and leave his lips tingling with whatever Seokjin has to give him.

So he does. His tongue finds entrance, mingling with the sweet taste of raspberry and vanilla, lapping up the energy that Jungkook exudes. It’s tantalizing, the way Jungkook responds, the way he melts into Seokjin like he’d been thirsting for the elder for centuries.

It drives Seokjin’s mind right over the edge and into the pits of pure, heavy lust.

“You’re an asshole,” Seokjin mutters, nipping lightly at Jungkook’s plush and inviting bottom lip.

Jungkook chuckles again, a little more cocky and self assured. He runs his hands down Seokjin’s chest and dips underneath the hem of his shirt, exploring the skin there. “Maybe you’re just easy. A few bad jokes and a cupcake, and you’re putty in my hands.”

As if to prove a point, he runs a thumb over Seokjin’s left nipple and Seokjin gasps lightly, burying his face into the lightly muscled crook where Jungkook’s neck meets his shoulder.

He can’t find it in him to care how desperate he may seem. He knows he’s not. He could have walked out and went on with his day. But this, this is so much better. Because Seokjin knows, knows with great certainty, that in a few moments he’ll have the youngest clawing at his skin, breathing his name. And he wants it.

It’s Seokjin’s turn to be forward, it’s his turn to make Jungkook squirm. His hand easily slips between their pressed bodies and runs harshly down the front of Jungkook’s clothed crotch. Jungkook groans, his fingertips digging slightly into the skin of Seokjin’s chest beneath his shirt. The dig is nothing short of satisfying and Seokjin grins.

“Shall we move this party a little further away from the other party outside?”

Jungkook’s hands glide down the silhouette of his body and rest on his hips, pulling Seokjin’s impossibly closer with, and Seokjin finds his hand trapped between them at an awkward angle, putting pressure on the sensitive thickness growing beneath the fabric of Jungkook’s clothes.

Not that he minds.

“Nobody’s coming, don't worry about them,” Jungkook’s voice is low and in his ear, “they knew I’d break you.”

Maybe Seokjin should be offended. Maybe he should retract his hand, straighten his clothing, and walk away with his head held high. But he’s not, and he doesn’t. There’s a seductive playfulness in his words that pool heat in the depths of Seokjin’s core and a low, quiet, animalistic growl forces it’s way out of him as he latches his mouth to the skin of Jungkook’s neck.

Because yes, Jungkook did break him.

And he entirely plans on rebuilding the shambles by making Jungkook scream . Even if it’s the last thing he does before he heads home.

The taste of Jungkook’s skin is bitter on his tongue, sweat from the hot summer day and water from the pool mingling together. But it sends excitement thrumming through his limbs nonetheless and he revels in the taste.

He only stops for a brief moment to watch their shirts hit the tiled kitchen floor, discarded with minimal care, before before his lips find that sweet spot on the long patch of skin on Jungkook’s outstretched neck. Every little precious noise that he elicits from the younger just pushes him that much more forward, that much more pressure on Jungkook’s pliant flesh, the blooming marks threatening to last for days to come. But neither pays any mind.

It’s a feverish battle of hands, tongues, lips and skin. The heat between them is almost palpable. It’s thick and heavy and their panting only adds to the atmosphere, but it’s a welcomed heat that only fuels Seokjin’s need.

He’s hard, so hard it hurts, and he grinds against Jungkook to alleviate some of that festering desire. It’s a delicious grind, because Jungkook has nowhere to go, and that makes the pressure consistent and stationary and perfect .

“Touch me.”

They’re two simple words, but they leave Jungkook like a sin. Seokjin doesn’t hesitate, his hands slipping between the toned muscle and the waistband of Jungkook’s swim shorts. He should have anticipated it, but it never crossed his mind; Jungkook has nothing else on underneath and his hand is instantly greeted with the soft, but solid and hard flesh of Jungkook’s cock.

Jungkook moans, a heavy sound that fills the space around them. Seokjin’s hand makes quick work of stroking his length, albeit a bit awkward from the angle. And Jungkook is melting into him, both hands finding their way into the strands of his hair.

“Fuck yes.”

He needs a better grasp, a better hold, a better angle to really make Jungkook come apart, so his spare hand makes quick work of tugging his shorts down just enough to work him just that much better.

As soon as Seokjin has a firm rhythm going, his hand gliding effortlessly along Jungkook’s cock, the younger is nothing short of restless. His hips move on their own accord, stuttering into Seokjin’s touch, and Seokjin is positively bursting with amb unrivaled smugness.

The cocky young boy, who only moments ago, was playing satan’s role in Seokjin’s day, is a shuddering mess with nothing but his hand. It makes him thirsty for more.

He removes his hand, and he’s rewarded with a displeased grunt from the younger.

“Turn around,” he orders, as his hands work the strings tied on the front of his swim shorts to keep them up. The boy’s eyes grow wider for a split second, but Seokjin doesn’t miss the way they fill with surprise. As if perhaps he didn’t expect Seokjin to go so far.

“Is that a no?” he asks warily, halting his movements.

Jungkook shakes his head quickly, stuttering out, “No, n-no, I just-”. He glances towards the patio door quickly, then his eyes fall back to Seokjin. “Hang on.”

The younger reaches over, his body stretched and on display, opening the second drawer from the top. It appears to be a junk drawer, swimming with random, mismatched items.

Seokjin would be bold face lying if he said he had expected Jungkook to retrieve a small bottle of lube and a string of condoms from the drawer. He tears one off, and hands the two items to Seokjin, a funny lopsided smile on his face.

“Why…?” Seokjin begins.

Jungkook deadpans. “I live with Taehyung. This shit is everywhere .”

In maybe any other situation, Seokjin might laugh. Because it’s utterly ridiculous. He imagines the top drawer is utensils, and it paints a funny picture. It also makes him wonder who exactly he lives next door to.

Problem is, Jungkook is turning around, bracing two hands on the counter in front of him as he sticks his ass out in Seokjin’s direction, and he doesn’t exactly feel like laughing anymore. He tugs Jungkook’s shorts down to rest just below his ass, and it’s a sight to behold.

Seokjin’s throat is dry and his heart hammers in his chest as he massages a hand into the soft flesh. It’s intoxicating the way his whole body is flared up with a maddening desire to bury himself deep inside.

He clicks the cap open with a skilled thumb, and allows a fair amount of the slippery contents to coat his fingers. When he runs a finger over the younger’s rim, Jungkook gasps, pushing back into Seokjin’s touch.

“Oh god, please,” he whimpers.

Seokjin attempts to suppress a groan as his finger pushes inside, swallowed eagerly by Jungkook’s body, but the noise filters out of him. Jungkook is tight, he can feel the resistance, but Jungkook gives no sign of discomfort as he lets his head fall forward with a breathless moan.

“Two,” he says, and Seokjin almost doesn’t catch it. He complies, waves of want washing over him as he watches his fingers work the squirming boy open. He tries not to think of how good he’d look stretched out on his cock.

And once again, despite all his efforts, he fails.

When he adds the third, Jungkook is a mess. He’s almost worried the people outside will hear him whimpering and mewling, begging Seokjin to fuck him into the counter.

But thankfully, for the first time Seokjin can recall, their rowdy laughter and their loud voices are coming in handy.

“Please, just do it,” Jungkook groans, and Seokjin takes a sharp intake of breath.

“You’ll be the death of me.”

“I’m flattered, now fuck me.”

Jungkook’s hands fumble with the condom that had been tossed onto the counter, ripping it open as he turns around to face Seokjin.

Seokjin’s halfway through pulling his now completely aching member from the confines of his shorts when he sees Jungkook’s face, and his breath stops short. He’s positive he’s never seen anyone so painfully beautiful, Jungkook’s face red and sweat forming around his temples.

There’s a smirk on his lips as he lands a hand on Seokjin’s cock, and Seokjin groans as his eyes flutter shut, the touch sending nothing but pure pleasure through his limbs. He barely registers the condom being rolled on, or the cool sensation of the lube. What he does feel is the smooth glide of Jungkook’s hand as he coats Seokjin, and then the touch is gone and Jungkook is turning back around, resuming his position.

It takes a tremendous amount of effort on Seokjin’s part not to grab Jungkook by the perfect hips and push into him without care. He wants it so bad he can feel the tremble in his extremities. He places his hands on Jungkook’s hips and enters him slowly, and the drag is nothing short of torturous.

He clenches his teeth, a groan making it’s way out of his throat as he bottoms out, and Jungkook’s breathing is quickened, he’s panting beneath Seokjin.

“Holy shit,” he breathes, running a hand up the skin of Jungkook’s dampened back.

“Fuck yeah,” is the only reply he receives.

He thrust shallowly, barely a movement at all, letting the younger adjust to the intrusion. It’s a quiet moment, the distant noise from outside lingering around them.

And then Jungkook is peeking over his shoulder at him.

“Like you mean it, Seokjin.”

Seokjin exhales a breath he didn’t even know he was holding in, and he pulls almost all the way out of the boy, and then his hips snap forward and Jungkook’s body pushes against the counter in front of him, a quiet wail leaving him.

There’s something to be said for the way Seokjin fucks Jungkook, or the way his entire body tingles with electricity as he watches his cock disappear inside the younger. It’s almost enough to push him over the edge, but he clings to the moment as he keeps up a pace that rocks them.

Jungkook moans, loud and unrestrained, pushing back against Seokjin, meeting his thrusts, and Seokjin finds his own moan mingling.

“Fuck yes, just like that.” Jungkook is begging, his voice strained and rough as his palms splay on the counter, fingers clawing at the cool surface.

Seokjin grabs Jungkook’s hips a little tighter, readjusting their position, and then he slams back into him, and something snaps in Jungkook. He yelps, his hand flying to stroke his cock to the rhythm Seokjin’s set.

“God, do that again,” he pleads. “Harder.”

And who is Seokjin to say no?

His resolve is crumbling, his will to hang on is depleting, but he thrusts into Jungkook with vigor, his legs aching and his fingers digging into the flesh of Jungkook’s hips.

“I’m not gonna last,” he mutters, his voice cracking.

Jungkook doesn’t give him a reply, simply pushes back eagerly against him, and Seokjin notices the difficulties Jungkook’s having to stroke himself against the counter.

He reaches around, batting his hand away, and glides his hand along Jungkook’s length in time with his now slightly erratic pace.

“Oh, fuck,” Jungkook moans and slumps against the counter, and he’s caught by surprise as Jungkook spills over his hand and against the cupboard in front of him.

And it’s perhaps the hottest thing Seokjin’s ever seen or heard. With one more deep thrust, the heat inside of him unfolds, and his orgasm hits him so hard he sees stars against his eyelids, a string of curses leaving him.  

“Holy fuck,” Seokjin says again when his breath returns. He pulls out, carefully removing the condom and tossing it in the nearby trashcan. He tucks himself back away and can’t help but chuckle when he looks over at Jungkook.

He’s still slumped against the counter, his cheek resting on the surface and his eyes are wide as he meets Seokjin’s gaze. He’s a mess, and it’s endearing.

“Cloth?” Seokjin asks, glancing around the area. Jungkook lifts an arm, pointing vaguely. 

“Closet. Don’t take a purple one, Jimin will kill me,” he says, then a smile spreads over his face. “Actually no, grab a purple one.”

Seokjin raises an amused eyebrow. Jungkook pushes his body up, and shrugs. “He ate my yogurt parfait after I specifically told him not to.”

He tosses Jungkook a purple washcloth. “You guys are a strange bunch, you know.”

Jungkook grins, his eyes disappearing somewhere in his glee. “Yeah, but I better be your favorite of this weird bunch now.”

“Eh, I don't know. Hoseok’s pretty interesting.”

He dodges the hurled, soiled washcloth with a howl of laughter. “I’m kidding!”  

He walks forward, wrapping both arms around Jungkook’s waist, and he winks. “You’re definitely my favourite. Should we go back out there and pretend I didn’t just fuck you into next week?”

Jungkook hums in agreement.

“We should. If we don't hurry, this beautiful flush will leave my face and they’ll think I failed. We can't have that. I am the very best, like no one ever was.”

“Is that a Pokemon reference?”


"Are you going to pick up the cloth?”