Yoongi isn’t sad.
He tilts his head back until he feels the crown thunk loudly against the back of the booth, his neck craned at an uncomfortable angle and broadly exposed to the room at large. He sits tucked away in the corner of the booth, itself tucked away in the corner of the bar. Well-worn wood slides against the palms of his hands as he presses them flat to the table and allows his eyes to close.
Maybe bar isn’t the right word, Yoongi thinks. He always finds himself struggling to describe the establishments this far out into the country — it’s not a bar because it doesn’t have an actual bar, firstly. And it’s open for breakfast, Yoongi is fairly sure, which doesn’t seem like the kind of thing a bar does. Businesses in small towns always seem to serve more than one purpose, filling whatever gaps need filling out of sheer necessity. Yoongi remembers that from being a kid. But even if he doesn’t quite know what to call it, he does know it is the only establishment in town that Yoongi can order hard liquor in.
Yoongi breathes in. The air quality is different here.
He hadn’t noticed it when he drove in last night. He hadn’t noticed until he’d hobbled over to the diner around the corner that morning. He had rolled into town at nearly two in the morning, dragged all of his equipment into his Aunt Miyeon’s house, and crashed on the couch in the front room immediately afterwards.
Or — his Aunt Miyeon’s old house, Yoongi supposes.
He’s not sad.
Truthfully, Yoongi hadn’t spoken to his aunt in years. He’d had to plug her address into Google Maps, grumbling to himself as he piled all of his things into the back of his dinky little car, only to realize that the drive was only an hour and forty-five minutes from his apartment. He had thought it would take much longer.
But he hadn’t been to visit since he was a kid, his experience of the drive distorted by the years. All he remembers is excruciating boredom strapped into the backseat of his mother’s car, nose buried in his gameboy. There’s something a little painful about that realization, too. It wasn’t even two hours away and Yoongi had never, in his adult life, come to visit her.
Yoongi breathes in. His aunt is dead.
He curls his fingers around his drink, a chill running through his fingers. It’s not as if he’s refusing to be sad — he just isn’t sad. Slowly, Yoongi opens his eyes and stares up at the ceiling, tracing out the patterns of the wood with his eyes. He’s drinking whiskey, and it tastes like shit.
He isn’t sad. If anything, Yoongi is just tired.
Recently, his life has been — a lot. Yoongi doesn’t know how else to explain it. And when he’d gotten a call from the lawyer explaining to him that his aunt had passed away nearly a week ago and Yoongi was the one who’d been named in her will, more than anything else Yoongi had just felt tired.
He’s still tired, he thinks. Maybe a little relieved in an odd way. Slowly, he sighs and moves to bring his glass up to his lips, turning his gaze back towards the empty side of the booth across from him —
Only when he glances over, it isn’t empty.
A woman with broad shoulders and a soft jaw sits across from him, a voluminous black coat that appears to be made from feathers tossed across her shoulders. Her hair is cropped short, her skin a few shades too pale. Dark brown eyes pierce Yoongi from across the table.
A knot wells up in his throat just as a shiver travels down his spine.
“Um,” Yoongi says. He hadn’t heard her sit down. He hadn’t even heard anyone walk by his table, and the establishment is uncomfortably quiet — the lights are dull, moonlight spilling in from the window off to Yoongi’s right as music croons from somewhere off to the left. A sense of unease washes over him. “Wh—”
She smiles, extending her hand across the table. “I’m Taehyung,” she says. “Pronouns are he/him.”
Yoongi’s thoughts come to a grinding halt. "Oh," he says, less out of shock at the stranger's gender, but at the fact that someone had introduced themselves using pronouns all the way out here. He hadn't been expecting that. "Uh, Yoongi. A-also he/him."
He stutters. Yoongi tries not to visibly flinch.
Taehyung nods. "You're Miyeon's nephew."
It's not really a question. The waitress — Yoogni thinks she may be the only staff in the entire restaurant — walks past their table, shooting Yoongi a little smile as he glances up. As Yoongi does his best to smile politely back, he catches sight of a girl sitting a few tables over from the two of them, head propped up on one fist and gaze trained carefully on Yoongi and his visitor.
Or — maybe not a girl. Their hair is cut short, a loose-fitting shirt draped over their shoulders.
"Uh, yeah," Yoongi says. The two of them look familiar, but he can't quite place it. Both of them appear to be a few years younger than him, and Yoongi hasn't visited here since he was fourteen or so. More than ten years. He doesn't know how he would recognize them. "I suppose the whole town's talking about me, huh?"
Across the table, Taehyung folds his fingers under his chin. "You could say that," he says. "But I don't think a lot of them remember you. It's been a long time since you visited."
Yoongi pauses. He taps the tips of his fingers against his glass and glances between the two of them — the person staring intently over at Yoongi and the man sitting across from him. "Uh," he says.
Taehyung smiles at him. There's something just a little sinister about it, his eyes flashing with mirth, teeth flashing from between his lips. The words, Do you remember me? sit on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue, heavy with a skeptical tone when Yoongi happens to look a little closer.
Two delicately curved fangs sit perched on Taehyung’s bottom lip. As Yoongi watches, his eyes flash an inhuman shade of yellow.
Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath. “Oh,” he says. “You’re the — “ He glances over at the person sitting at the other table. “You’re the two who — you live up the hill.”
All at once, Yoongi’s cheeks go pink. He gestures vaguely in the direction he thinks the old mansion that sits at the top of the hill that overlooks the town. Judging by the way Taehyung smirks at him, Yoongi picks the wrong direction. It only makes Yoongi’s face turn an even deeper shade of pink.
He doesn’t think it’s that big of a deal to acknowledge that someone is a vampire — it probably would have been a few years ago. It’s not as big of a deal anymore, though. And Yoongi remembers, even when he was a kid, that the townspeople had never been especially weird about the fact that they had a couple of vampires living just outside of town. Yoongi vaguely remembers seeing the two of them as a preteen, cloaked in black, ducking into the general store under cover of night. He remembers how his little body had tensed up, a bolt of fear jolting through him when he had realized what the two of them were.
And he remembers his Aunt Miyeon gently clasping his shoulder and telling him, in no uncertain terms, that he shouldn’t judge others if he doesn’t want to be judged himself.
Yoongi had grown up a lot since then. He’d realized that he was gay. He'd had his own taste of being the weird one, the one that nobody wanted to talk to in high school, the one that made an uncomfortable shiver travel down everyone else's spine, and — he gets it.
If he was a vampire, he wouldn't want people to be afraid of him either.
"Yes," Taehyung says, smiling. It doesn't look particularly malicious, only vaguely amused. "We're the vampires."
Yoongi's cheeks flush with heat. He nods. "Right," he says, his shoulders stiffening as he does so. Taehyung only grins wider, interlaced fingers forming a little shelf for his chin to sit on. "So you, um — you knew my aunt?"
Taehyung's expression darkens. "Yes," he says, nodding. Yoongi digs his fingers into the glass, numb from the ice. "I'm sorry. She was a good person."
Yoongi shrugs. He's not sad about it — he thinks of his mother, hundreds of miles away, not named in the will and not notified about the funeral and unwilling to travel up here to get her sister's things in order, and he's more sad about that than anything else.
"Life is life," Yoongi says. He glances down at his drink, slowly bringing it to his lips and taking a sip. The alcohol is bitter on his tongue, hot as it travels down his throat and settles in the pit of his stomach. "Death is death."
It sounds more profound than it is, Yoongi is sure. Taehyung blinks at him, vaguely surprised. There's something about the way that he talks, the lilt of his voice, that reminds Yoongi of a time long past. Yoongi is sure he's had his fair share of dealing with death in the time that he's been alive.
He must have looked exactly the same when Yoongi had visited this town as a child. The both of them must have.
Yoongi wonders exactly how old they are.
"That's true," Taehyung says. He lets his hands drift to the surface of the table. "It's still sad when a life comes to an end, though."
Once again, Yoongi shrugs. He lifts his glass to his lips and takes another sip, which quickly turns into him downing the remainder of the drink. It's not enough to get him drunk, not really, but the way the liquid warms him from the inside out is satisfying enough of a sensation that it soothes the ache in the pit of his gut.
"I'm just here to — get all of her things together." The glass clacks against the surface of the table, Yoongi's head going slightly foggy as the buzz begins to settle in. "We didn't even — I didn't even know until the lawyer called. We weren't especially close or anything, just — you know."
He bites back the phrase, family drama. If he's being honest, he doesn't know why his mother and his aunt stopped talking. He doesn't particularlyparticular care to know, either. All he knows now is that he was the family member that his Aunt Miyeon was closest to. He had spent the summers here, sure, but he hadn't visited since he was a teenager. They had been close then, he supposes, but all the two of them had in the last ten years were occasional long phonecalls and the instances in which she'd drive out to his little city apartment just to take him and Jimin to lunch when the two of them were still in college, and —
"It is what it is," Yoongi says.
He tugs at the lapels of his leather jacket, adjusting the material so it sits properly on his shoulders. It's too big for him, he knows, but he likes the way it makes him feel a little bit larger than he actually is.
"That's probably a good way to look at things," Taehyung says. His voice is smooth, a dark tone that somehow reminds Yoongi of the sensation of dark chocolate melting on his tongue. "I'm glad you're handling it well."
And he's right. Yoongi is handling it well.
He clears his throat, shrugging again. "Yeah, I guess," he says, noncommittally. Taehyung continues to stare across the table at him, cheek propped up against his palm. The feathers of his jacket shift as hot, dry air rains down on the two of them from the vent above. "Is there, um — is there something you wanted, or — ?"
Another grin. Yoongi finds his gaze drawn to the fangs which flash from behind Taehyung's lips.
"Well," he says, extending a single finger to point towards the person sitting at the other table. "I don't mean to be insensitive. But Jungkook over there wanted me to let you know that he thinks you're cute."
Immediately, Jungkook's piercing gaze shrinks away. His eyes fall to the floor, his chin tucking downward as Yoongi's attention falls to him. In the background, Yoongi swears he hears the waitress cackle.
"Um," Yoongi says. He glances back and forth between the two of them, sitting just too far apart for the movement to be comfortable. He'd been under the impression that the two of them were a couple. "Are you not — he's — ?"
The words fall from Yoongi's mouth in a mush. He strongly resists the urge to bury his face in the palms of his hands as Taehyung stares at him smugly from across the table.
"Are you — flirting with me for him?" Yoongi finally chokes out. The waitress is definitely laughing. He can hear the tinkle of her laugh over the din of the music, emerging from somewhere in the kitchen. Yoongi resists the urge to audibly groan.
Taehyung shrugs. A cheeky grin graces his features, pulling his mouth into the shape of a rectangle. It's probably the least intimidating he's looked since the two of them began speaking. "Maybe."
Jungkook continues to stare down at his shoes. Yoongi's heart jumps up into his throat, a whirlwind of emotions rocking him all at once. His stomach twists with guilt even as Taehyung begins to chuckle, but beyond that Yoongi just feels — strangely relieved.
Taehyung grins, pinching his lower lip in between his teeth. "I might be flirting with you for the both of us."
His aunt is dead. Yoongi had driven all the way out here to get her things in order. To talk to some lawyers about her will. He'd dragged all of his equipment along with him, knowing that his coworkers wouldn't even be aware he wasn't at home so long as he had access to an internet connection. He hadn't told his mom or his landlord or Jimin that he was coming. Last night he had slept on the couch of his dead aunt's house, and —
Truthfully, Yoongi just feels relieved to be out of the city.
"Sorry," Taehyung says. His voice is like dark chocolate, not truly deep but rich and full in a way that almost tricks Yoongi into hearing it as such. "It's probably a bad time. But we don't get new people around here very frequently, so we just..." He shrugs as he trails off, eyebrows quirking upwards. "Thought we'd come say hello."
Yoongi blinks. "Right," he says.
He's not sure what he expected to happen out here in the countryside. He hadn't really thought it through before he threw everything into his car, and — the last day had been relatively uneventful. He'd slept as long as he could, taken a late lunch at the diner around the corner, and returned to his aunt's achingly empty home to begin sorting through her things. He hadn't made much progress, spending hours staring blankly at her bookshelves, before he'd given up and hobbled over here to get himself a drink.
He's sure there must be some liquor in his aunt's house, of course, but — to be honest, it doesn't feel right to touch it. It doesn't feel right to go through her things at all.
When Yoongi glances over, Jungkook is staring at the two of them hesitantly. Silently, Yoongi beckons him over.
He supposes, out of all of the things that might have happened, he hadn't expected to be flirted with by a couple of vampires.
Taehyung grins. He slides closer to the wall, making room for Jungkook as he slides into the booth next to Taehyung.
"Jungkook?" Yoongi asks, extending his hand across the booth. With a silent nod, Jungkook reaches out to shake Yoongi's hand. His skin is cool to the touch, uncannily smooth. "If we've met before I don't remember, so — "
"It was a long time ago," Jungkook says. His fangs poke out over his lower lip even in the resting position, lending a slight airiness to his speech. "You're an adult now. It's different."
Yoongi's tongue darts out over his bottom lip. "Right," he says. "Of course."
Taehyung takes a deep breath in, sighing audibly. It takes Yoongi a moment to remember that vampires don't actually have to breathe, so — the gesture is entirely for show. His eyes slide over to Taehyung, who leans forward and fixes Yoongi with a smile.
"So," he prompts. "Tell us about yourself. What's happened to Min Yoongi in the last ten years?"
“Uh,” Yoongi answers immediately. Jungkook stares inquisitively at him across the table. “Well, I graduated high school.”
Hesitantly, Jungkook laughs. Trying to suppress his own nervous energy, Yoongi reaches up and scratches the back of his neck. When it looks as if Taehyung is about to probe further, Yoongi finishes up with a quick, “This and that, you know. I’m not really interesting or anything.”
Truthfully, Yoongi can’t imagine telling two immortal beings that he’s a software engineer. The story of his life sounds incredibly boring and mundane under normal circumstances. Managing to graduate from college was like pulling teeth, but he did it. He started dating someone right after graduating, and the two of them had stayed together until — just recently. He managed to find a job that doesn’t require him to leave his house and an apartment he actually likes to live in, which is probably the best decision he’s ever made in his life.
It’s not that he isn’t happy, but he’s under no illusion that his life is exciting.
So, in that moment, he just shrugs. The idea of Taehyung and Jungkook being immortal beings buzzes in the back of his mind.
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Taehyung says.
But Yoongi only shrugs, leaning back against the booth and spreading his knees. He doesn’t feel bad about himself. He likes his life. He likes his apartment, he likes his job, and even if he isn’t in a relationship with Jimin anymore — well, he’d be lying if he said the break-up hadn’t come as a kind of relief.
“I’m sure you two have more interesting stories,” he says.
It’s been a long time since Yoongi has tried to flirt. And it’s not like he’d put getting out of the house to flirt with strangers high up on his list of things to do after Jimin moved out, so —
It feels awkward as he slides his tongue over his lips. They’re hot. The two of them are hot, if not a little weird, but there’s something a little attractive about that as well. Jungkook is wearing nothing but black, his bangs hanging limply down into his line of vision. As Taehyung leans forward the front of his feathered coat parts to reveal a series of ostentatious jewelery hung from around his neck. If Yoongi is being honest with himself, the deviation from convention is refreshing.
And the two of them are trans — probably. Trans vampires who live out in the middle of nowhere and have, apparently, managed to stay on fairly good terms with the people who live in town. Based on how close-minded he imagines people in a town this small are, that must be quite the feat.
“You guys live up there in that mansion at the top of the hill, right?” he asks, pointing in the same direction as he had earlier. Taehyung snickers, reaching forward and correcting his hand placement to point in almost the complete opposite direction. Yoongi tries not to blush.
“Yes,” Jungkook answers. He stares at Yoongi with an intensity he doesn’t quite know how to quantify, eyes flashing and tongue flicking out over his lips. “It’s a nice place.”
Yoongi stares blankly back at him for a long moment. Silence hangs over the table, the tension only eased by the lilt of the music in the corner.
It takes him a second to realize — Jungkook is staring with hunger flashing in his gaze.
Yoongi clears his throat, his whole body going hot. “Right.”
The emotion he’s experiencing isn’t fear. He’s not afraid of vampires — knows bloodlust is a myth, just like almost everything he had heard about vampires growing up. He knows the two of them don’t need to drink blood to survive. They’ll just find it enjoyable. Pleasurable. Vampires were few and far in between, but they weren’t so rare that Yoongi had gone without hearing stories: his roommate in college had claimed to have fucked a vampire girl once, said she had squeezed him tight, gently suckled at his neck while he fucked his cock into her —
Yoongi bites his lower lip.
No, Yoongi isn’t afraid. His heart jumps up into his throat as he glances between the two of them. He’s in the middle of nowhere, his aunt is dead, and he’s not in a relationship. Yoongi thinks to himself, obnoxiously: you only live once.
Well — he supposes you do if you’re not a vampire.
He clears his throat before pushing himself up to his feet and turning to speak over the edge of the booth, “Excuse me, could I get the check?”
The waitress is standing just outside of view, tucked around the corner of the kitchen. She emerges with a bright smile on her face. Yoongi tries not to let it bother him — tries not to think about how everyone in the town will know about this conversation by tomorrow at noon. He remembers little from his visits as a child as clearly as the way information travels when everyone knows everyone else in a small, contained environment.
“Right, of course.” She waves as she walks up to the ancient cash register by the front door. “Give me just a minute and I can ring you up in the front.”
Yoongi sighs as he slides out from the booth, stretching his arms up over his head. He’s already decided what he’s going to do, already decided that he’s going to say what he’s going to say, but — his heart still jumps up in his throat as he turns over his shoulder and shoots Taehyung and Jungkook a look as they stare up at him, equal parts impassive and confused.
“You wanna show me your place?” he asks.
Taehyung’s lips immediately split into a grin. Jungkook’s lips part as he stares up at Yoongi, an expression of awe working its way across his features. It’s so unexpected, Yoongi has to consciously twist the corners of his mouth down to keep himself from smiling.
“Yeah,” Jungkook says, immediately popping up from the booth. He stands only an inch or so taller than Yoongi, eager energy rolling off him as he comes to stand next to Yoongi. “Yeah, I’d like that.”
Taehyung rises up only a moment later, a serene smile slicked across his lips as he carefully slides a hand around Yoongi’s elbow and begins to guide him away from the booth.
“I agree,” he says, fangs poking into his lower lip. “That sounds quite nice.”
Yoongi drives them up the hill.
Taehyung had told Yoongi, as the three of them had hovered awkwardly in the parking lot, that he and Jungkook had walked down here. At first, this doesn’t strike Yoongi as all that strange: his spatial memory has never been especially good under normal circumstances, let alone with a buffer of ten years. So the three of them pile into Yoongi’s little Volkswagen, Jungkook curling up in the backseat while Taehyung takes the front, and Yoongi drives them through town.
It isn’t a very long drive. Not long enough for the sense of surreality to set in. Yoongi having casual sex at all is strange enough without even bringing up the circumstances, but —
The drive is just long enough for Yoongi to begin to contemplate.
“You walk this?” he asks as he pulls up in front of the mansion. It seems like a strange place to drive, truthfully — the asphalt had given way to a dirt road a few hundred feet back, and the only surface to park on is the slab of cracked brick that forms a circle around an empty fountain set into the front lawn. There isn’t another car in sight. “Every day?”
Yoongi pulls the emergency break up, drumming his fingers nervously against the steering wheel. The outside of the mansion is lit by only the two flickering lights above the doorway. In the darkness, Yoongi can barely make out the peeling black paint and the general shape of the architecture — it doesn’t look quite as ancient as Yoongi had expected. It’s completely lacking the turrets and fancy wrought iron bars he remembered. In fact, the general impression the mansion gives off is much more sleek and modern than some of the old colonials the three of them had just passed.
“We’re vampires,” Taehyung says, plainly, as he opens the door and steps out of the car. Yoongi fumbles to pull the key from the ignition.
“Right,” he says. “Vampires. You’re — strong.” He stumbles out of the car, sneakers hitting the pavement just as Jungkook spills from the backseat. “Right. Of course.”
Vampires are just people. Undead, slightly superhuman people, but — just people, nonetheless.
“This place doesn’t look like I thought it would,” he says.
Taehyung hums, a smile twisting his lips as he carefully stepping around the front of the car. He trails his fingertips along the hood. It’s probably still warm. “It’s a — yeah. We love it.”
He glances fondly up at the building. It’s not the response Yoongi had expected.
“It looks a little like — I don’t know. When you’re a kid, I guess, mansion is like. Sounds kinda scary. Old.” He shrugs, restlessly shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets. “This doesn’t really look all that old.”
Taehyung chuckles. “Yeah,” he says. “It was built in the 70s, actually. Mansion does sound a little scary. Although I guess Jungkookie’s paint job gets it a little closer, huh?”
He shoots Jungkook a cheeky look over Yoongi’s shoulder and receives nothing but an indecipherable mumble in response. When Yoongi turns over his shoulder to look at Jungkook, he immediately quiets and stares down at his own shoes.
It’s cute. Maybe a little disconcerting, but — cute.
The three of them walk in the front door. Taehyung fumbles with the keys for a few moments, having to shove aside his feathered jacket to reveal a pair of well-tailored pants and a belt with some kind of ostentatious metal design that catches in the light. He stands in front of the double doors and swears quietly to himself.
All at once, Yoongi is reminded violently of the few drunken hookups he’d had in college. There’s something otherworldly about Taehyung, the way he dresses, the way he holds himself, the almost-foreign lilt to his speech — but watching him struggle to fit his key into the keyhole in the dim light is such a mundane sight it almost makes Yoongi laugh.
But then, of course, he pushes the door open.
Taehyung is immediately shrouded in darkness as he steps over the threshold. Just enough light shines in that Yoongi can make out a single, crooked finger beckoning him inside.
A shiver travels down his spine. Without much thought, Yoongi follows him.
The first thing that Yoongi notices is how much cooler it is inside the mansion. Jungkook follows, hot on Yoongi’s heels, even as Yoongi walks in just far enough to experience the way the air kisses his skin, damp and cool. He breathes in, pupils blown wide as his eyes adjust to the darkness, and feels Jungkook’s presence behind him.
Yoongi doesn’t know what cues he’s picking up on to be so sure of that — no breath, no warmth, no gentle hum of life. Yoongi’s heart rate picks up as he feels hands slide around his waist, squeezing lightly.
“Why did you — oh.” Taehyung cuts himself off. As the seconds tick by, Yoongi realizes his eyes aren’t adjusting. He can’t see a thing, can only hear the rustle of fabric as Taehyung moves towards him. He nearly jumps out of his own skin when he feels another set of fingers interlace with his own. “Sorry, I forgot you can’t see.”
A knot rises in Yoongi’s throat, his stomach twisting up in fear. Jungkook’s hands remain around Yoongi’s waist, his fingers digging into soft skin through the fabric of his shirt. The two of them can see Yoongi, but Yoongi can’t see them back.
“S’okay,” he mutters. Taehyung’s fingers are long and cool in Yoongi’s, and all at once — Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. “I can, um — I’m.”
He cuts himself off when he realizes he has no idea what he wants to say.
Behind him, Jungkook laughs. His palms drift further forward, brushing against Yoongi’s hipbones before coming to rest on his stomach. In the next moment, Yoongi feels a chest pressed up against his back, followed quickly by lips against the back of his neck. He sucks in a sharp breath, mind flashing with the image of Jungkook’s fangs sinking into his flesh —
“Are you scared?” Taehyung asks.
His voice is dark. Confident, but still not unkind. In the darkness, he turns Yoongi’s hand over and traces fingers along the inside of his wrist.
“No,” Yoongi lies. For a moment, his brain tricks him into thinking Jungkook’s mouth is warm as he parts his lips and presses an open-mouthed kiss to Yoongi’s neck. “I mean — I — “
A breathy laugh emerges from the darkness. “It’s okay if you are,” Taehyung says. “You can go whenever, of course.”
Silently, Yoongi nods. He doesn’t know exactly when he so thoroughly lost control of this situation. The two of them had seemed so awkward in the restaurant, the conversation slightly stilted in the car, and now they seem so strangely confident.
“Yeah,” Yoongi mutters, quietly. “I’m — “
The words get stuck in his throat.
“Good scared or bad scared?” Taehyung asks. His voice is nothing more than a whisper, but even then Yoongi swears he can hear a smile twisted into the words. He sucks in a sharp breath.
“Good scared,” Yoongi answers. He doesn’t even have to think about it — Taehyung’s fingers seeking out his pulse where it pounds just beneath the skin, Jungkook’s nose buried in the crook of Yoongi’s neck. He doesn’t know what’s going to happen next, mind flashing with a thousand possibilities, and something about that makes the pit of Yoongi’s stomach twist with arousal.
Taehyung hums. “Good,” he says.
Jungkook’s fingers slip beneath the hem of Yoongi’s shirt, brushing cool across his stomach. He gasps in response, his free hand immediately jerking to rest over Jungkook’s.
“Jungkook,” Taehyung warns.
“What?” Jungkook hisses. A shiver travels down Yoongi’s spine at the tone of his voice: whiny, needy, higher-pitched than Yoongi would have expected. “He’s hot.”
A smirk tugs at the corners of Yoongi’s lips.
“You need to ask permission,” Taehyung says. He clicks his tongue, a sound echoing through the — well, Yoongi doesn’t actually know what kind of room it is — that sounds suspiciously like a toe tapping against the floor. Silently, Yoongi supposes he has no questions about who happens to be in charge in this relationship.
Another whine from Jungkook. He buries his nose in the crook of Yoongi’s neck again, a cool puff of air sliding over Yoongi’s skin as he sighs, before he asks, “Can I touch you here?”
Yoongi’s breath catches in his throat. He has an almost violent flashback to Jimin on his knees, hands tied behind his back as he stared up at Yoongi from beneath thick eyelashes while he pressed his lips to Yoongi’s hipbone —
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, breathlessly. He sighs when he feels Jungkook whine, pressing himself close to Yoongi’s back as his hands slide up over Yoongi’s stomach, the fabric of his shirt riding up around Jungkook’s wrist.
Taehyung laughs. “Sorry, he’s a little….”
“It’s fine,” Yoongi says. He hums in satisfaction when he feels Jungkook’s fingers slide across his ribs, goosebumps breaking out in the wake of his touch. His fingers are so cold, the air chilly against Yoongi’s skin. “It’s — “
He cuts himself off when Jungkook’s thumbs slide over his nipples. Yoongi bites into his own lip to prevent from making a sound, but it feels good. Jungkook rolls both of Yoongi’s nipples between his fingers before tugging lightly, the sensation sending little sparks of pleasure skittering down Yoongi’s spine. It’s been just long enough that knows he must be just a little too desperate, a little too sensitive. It’s embarrassing.
Taehyung slides his fingers up Yoongi’s arm, humming in displeasure when Yoongi’s jacket gets in the way. Carefully, he slides his palms over Yoongi’s shoulders and begins to push it down his shoulders, asking, “Can I take this off?”
Yoongi nods. Jungkook steps back just long enough for Taehyung to push Yoongi’s jacket from his shoulders, carefully removing it and tossing it somewhere Yoongi can’t see. He stands there in nothing but a short-sleeved t-shirt and his jeans, a shiver beginning to set in as Jungkook presses himself flush to Yoongi once again.
“Are you cold?” Taehyung asks.
He slides his fingers slowly up Yoongi’s arms. Jungkook runs his palms down Yoongi’s sides, tracing out the shape of his waist and pushing lightly at his jeans.
“A little,” Yoongi breathes. “It’s okay.”
Taehyung only hums. He slides his palms around the column of Yoongi’s neck, lingering for a long moment before cradling his cheeks.
“Can I kiss you?”
Yoongi’s mouth goes dry. He still can’t see anything, floating in darkness, but — he nods.
Taehyung’s lips are cool against his.
He kisses politely at first, moving his lips slowly against Yoongi’s. Neither of them are warm, equally as chilly as the air around him, but there’s something reassuring about having one person pressed directly against his back and one to his front.
Yoongi sighs into Taehyung’s mouth, humming in the back of his throat, and Taehyung kisses him deeper. A noise spills from Yoongi’s lips, completely involuntary, when he feels a single sharp fang scrape against his lower lip, Taehyung’s tongue darting forward to slide into Yoongi’s mouth before quickly retreating, and —
“So cute,” Taehyung mutters.
Yoongi wrinkles his nose. “No.”
A puff of breath slides across Yoongi’s lips as Taehyung laughs. “Handsome?” he asks.
Yoongi hums in displeasure, shaking his head. He leans forward just far enough to press his lips to Taehyung’s again, trying to make it known he’s not actually that displeased, but — “You can save the compliments.”
He receives a full-blown laugh in response, one of Taehyung’s hands sliding to the back of Yoongi’s neck. “Alright,” Taehyung agrees, leaning in to press a kiss to Yoongi’s lips again. “I guess I’ll have to save all of them for Jungkook.”
It’s not that Yoongi minds being complimented. He’d certainly never minded giving them out — Jimin had always loved being complimented. Yoongi would go so far as to say that Jimin required it. But Yoongi had never particularly cared for compliments being directed at him. It had always felt a little hollow.
"Yes," Jungkook says, firmly. Yoongi has to stop himself from laughing.
Taehyung kisses him again, deep and thorough. Yoongi groans when he feels Taehyung's tongue swipe across his bottom lip, when Jungkook's fingers tease at his nipples again through the fabric of his shirt, when he feels fingers slip beneath the waistband of his jeans to slide along the jut of his hipbone.
Taehyung's lips leave his with a quiet smack. "Is there something you want, Jungkook?"
A whine, directly in Yoongi's ear. He grits his teeth and tries not to audibly groan as a hand — Jungkook's hand — drifts to the front of Yoongi's jeans and hovers for only a moment before Taehyung pulls his hand away.
"Ask," Taehyung says. Arousal twists in the base of Yoongi's stomach, his cock throbbing. "Ask Yoongi for what you want."
Once again, Jungkook groans. He mutters something, very quietly, that sounds a lot like, fuck you. Yoongi smirks, tossing his head back on Jungkook's shoulder.
"Ask me," he says.
Loudly, Jungkook groans. He pulls his hand from Taehyung's and places it on Yoongi's waist, squeezing. "Can I please suck your cock?"
The words are muffled. Jungkook shoves his face into Yoongi's shoulder, as if he's trying to hide even in the complete darkness. Yoongi clenches his jaw, tongue flicking out over his lips as he imagines Jungkook on his knees, mouth open, eyelashes fluttering as he stares up at Yoongi.
"Fuck, yes," Yoongi mutters.
Taehyung laughs. Jungkook wraps his arms tight around Yoongi's waist and squeezes, and —
"Come here," Taehyung says. He wraps one hand around Yoongi's wrist and tugs him off to the left, only continuing to giggle as Yoongi stumbles while Jungkook follows close behind. He pulls Yoongi to a particular spot, steadying him with hands on Yoongi's waist, and commands, "Sit."
Taehyung is in charge, but in that moment — Yoongi finds himself wanting to take that control for himself. To push the boundary. To see how much of it Taehyung is willing to give up for himself.
Yoongi falls against the plush material of an armchair. Only a moment later, he feels Jungkook's hand on his knees, parting his thighs just wide enough that he can crawl in between.
The tips of Taehyung's fingers are cool against Yoongi's cheeks. "Do you want to see?"
Yoongi can feel Jungkook's cheek against his thigh. With only a hint of desperation, Yoongi nods.
Taehyung laughs. "Just a moment."
It isn't until that moment that Yoongi realizes how big the room must be — he listens to the way Taehyung's footfalls echo around them, floorboard creaking slightly beneath his feet. Jungkook holds perfectly still, sitting docile in between Yoongi's legs.
He jumps when, instead of a light being flicked on, he hears the rasp of fabric and metal as Taehyung draws back a curtain allowing moonlight to rain down into the room.
It's strikingly beautiful. The window is massive, looking down onto the town at the foot of the hill. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath, for a brief moment just appreciating the way the full moon hangs in the sky. The light is so bright it burns Yoongi's eyes as he adjusts, gaze falling first to Taehyung, who stands with his hands behind his back and a smug smile slicked across his lips on the other side of the room, and then —
Jungkook, crouched between Yoongi's legs, looking up at him with eager eyes as he slides his fingers behind Yoongi's belt.
"You have to give him permission."
Taehyung's footsteps echo. Yoongi can see a little table beside him, a few more high-backed armchairs facing the window. The room sounds even larger than what he can see, a gaping space that extends far behind Yoongi's back.
Yoongi reaches down and combs his fingers through Jungkook's hair. It's soft, delicate against Yoongi's skin. "Go ahead."
Taehyung laughs as Jungkook tugs Yoongi's belt open. "So cute," Taehyung comments, crouching behind Jungkook who only stares transfixed down at the buckle of Yoongi's belt. "So eager, my baby."
Yoongi hisses as Jungkook pulls down his jeans, leaving the bulge of Yoongi's cock beneath his boxers on display. All at once, embarrassment overwhelms him — Taehyung and Jungkook are both staring at him, and they're strangers, and they're each probably centuries old and what the fuck is Yoongi doing, but —
"Can I — ?" Jungkook asks. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of Yoongi's boxers, gaze fluttering up to Yoongi's face. There's something about his expression that looks just as vulnerable, just as anxious, just as painfully human as Yoongi feels.
With lips pursed together, Yoongi nods.
Slowly, Jungkook pulls Yoongi's boxers away from the bulge of his erection. He hisses at the kiss of cool, damp air on his skin, breath caught in his throat as he watches Jungkook pull the fabric further down his thighs, leaving his cock resting heavy against his own stomach, and —
There's something more than a little gratifying about that.
"Good boy," Taehyung mutters. He runs his fingers through Jungkook's hair, a cheeky grin twisting his lips. "Look how hard you got him. Did such a good job."
Jungkook's eyes go wide. With an indignant look, he moves his hand to shove lightly at Taehyung's shoulder — and only earns himself a chuckle in response. Taehyung wraps his arms around Jungkook's waist and coos, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to his neck.
"Open your mouth for our guest, Kook."
And — despite the fact that he's clearly embarrassed, shoulders tight and gaze hesitant, Jungkook locks eyes with Yoongi and pliantly opens his mouth.
It's obscene. The way Jungkook's tongue lolls past his bottom lip, fangs hanging delicately from his upper row of teeth. He makes a noise in the back of his throat, glancing down at Yoongi's cock before locking eyes with him again. Yoongi's breath catches in his throat as he watches Jungkook lean forward only for the motion to be halted by Taehyung's fingers knotted in his hair.
"Stay still," Taehyung whispers. He presses a kiss to the bone just behind Jungkook's ear. "Let our guest use you how he wants."
And that's — Yoongi feels his heart jump up into his throat, all the blood rushing from his head. He watches his own cock throb, precome dribbling from the head as Jungkook stares expectantly up at him, some kind of otherworldly being waiting patiently for Yoongi to slide his cock in between his lips.
Yoongi grunts as he wraps his fingers around the base of his own cock. Jungkook stares up at him, eyes glassy and mouth wet and Yoongi — he bites into his own lip as he presses his cock forward and touches the head to the flat of Jungkook's tongue, holding back a groan as —
Taehyung pushes Jungkook's bangs back from his forehead. "Good boy," he says. The words are muttered soothingly, quietly. The intimacy of it sends a shiver rattling down Yoongi's spine. "Show Yoongi what a good boy you are, yeah?"
And then, firmly, Taehyung pushes Jungkook's head forward. He sinks down an inch or two, the tip disappearing between his lips. Yoongi sucks in a sharp breath and groans, closing his eyes for a moment as he soaks in the sensation of Jungkook's mouth on his cock — it feels almost unnaturally smooth, unnaturally cool, but still so fucking wet as Jungkook closes his lips around Yoongi's cock and sucks —
He shivers, his shoulders trembling.
Taehyung chuckles. "Is he cold?"
Breathlessly, Yoongi nods. Taehyung only grins, knotting his fingers in Jungkook's hair and ruthlessly tugging back as if in afterthought. Jungkook lets out a little groan.
"Sorry," he says. "Not much we can really do about that, but — "
"No," Yoongi cuts him off. "It's fine."
Taehyung hums, reaching around Jungkook's body to sink two fingers into Jungkook's open mouth. It's a little surreal, watching Taehyung press his fingers to Jungkook’s tongue, carefully tracing out the points of Jungkook’s fangs and the line of his lower teeth.
“You can fuck his face a little,” Taehyung says. Jungkook’s breath hitches, his gaze flicking away — the gesture is so shy it makes Yoongi’s heart jump up into his throat. “He likes that.”
Silence hangs for a moment. Yoongi breathes heavy, his fist wrapped around the base of his cock. Taehyung tenses his fingers in Jungkook’s hair, tugging him back a half-inch and receiving a breathy gasp in response before Jungkook stutters out, “Yeah, I — I like that.”
Taehyung is the one in charge. The one who calls the shots. Yoongi remembers being that person in the relationship.
“Come here, then,” Yoongi mutters. He wraps his hand around the back of Jungkook’s neck and pulls him forward. Compliantly, Taehyung’s fingers fall to Jungkook’s shoulder, only pushing him further forward. Without a moment of hesitation, Yoongi slips his cock between Jungkook’s lips and carefully pulls him forward, waiting for the moment he feels Jungkook pull back, his muscles tense, his shoulders heave with a little gag, but —
Yoongi manages to push Jungkook’s lips flush with his pubic bone before that ever occurs.
His jaw drops when he realizes. Jungkook stares placidly up at him, not a hint of discomfort present in his expression even as Yoongi feels his throat spasm around the head of Yoongi’s cock. “Holy fucking shit?”
A breathy chuckle fills Yoongi’s ears as Taehyung braces his palm on the back of Jungkook’s head and pushes him forward, pivoting his head side to side as if to shove him even closer. “Reflexes are for the living,” he says, by way of explanation.
Yoongi can’t help but laugh.
He doesn’t press forward with caution, knowing that. Only knots his fingers in Jungkook’s hair as soon as Taehyung pulls away and tugs him upwards an inch or two — just far enough that Yoongi can comfortably thrust up into his open mouth. Yoongi pushes past the barrier of his throat over and over again, an obscenely wet sound emerging from Jungkook’s mouth as he does so, but Jungkook doesn’t even flinch. He just stares up at Yoongi intently, spit sliding down his chin as Yoongi thrusts into his open mouth.
“Jesus fucking — “ Yoongi mutters, tugging Jungkook up and off his cock when he feels like he’s about to come. It had been more than a few weeks since he had last — it would be embarrassing if he came so quickly.
Jungkook moans. He breathes in sharply, squirming in Taehyung’s grip. For a moment, Yoongi wonders why, exactly, until he notices that Taehyung’s arms are wrapped around Jungkook’s waist, one hand dipped beneath the line of his now-unbuttoned jeans. Yoongi groans in the back of his throat, squeezing the base of his cock as he watches Taehyung’s fingers move, probably teasing at Jungkook’s little —
“Come here,” Yoongi mutters. Jungkook, mouth slicked with spit, only nods wordlessly as Yoongi pulls him forward again, sliding quickly to the back of his throat and twisting his fingers roughly in Jungkook’s hair. He kicks his hips forward just far enough to feel Jungkook’s throat flutter around the head of his cock, absolutely fucking heavenly, can feel his stomach tense up like he’s about to come. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
Taehyung bites into Jungkook’s ear. “Like it when you get used like you’re nothing more than a hole to fuck, huh? Little Jungkookie with a cock down his throat — “
The voice is hushed, desperate. Yoongi can feel Jungkook tense underneath him, a wordless, high-pitched noise spilling from the back of his throat. It takes Yoongi a moment to realize that he’s coming, his throat locking up and eyes squeezing closed and something about that, a vampire coming with Yoongi’s cock in his fucking mouth just —
Yoongi comes before he realizes what’s happening.
“Shit,” he mutters. His head lolls against the back of the chair, hips kicking up into Jungkook’s mouth for a desperate few seconds before sensitivity overwhelms him and he gently, carefully pushes Jungkook’s head away.
Jungkook groans as he moves. He feels completely limp, mouth hanging open. Yoongi falls completely speechless as he watches his own come spill from between Jungkook’s lips and down his chin.
Yoongi swallows. “I’m sorry.”
A beat passes in silence before Taehyung laughs. “What are you sorry for?” he asks, incredulously. “Oh, my baby.” He wipes at Jungkook’s chin, placing a quick little kiss on his cheekbone. “Did you feel good?”
Jungkook smacks his lips. Breathlessly, Yoongi tucks his cock back into his underwear and zips up his jeans — all at once, he feels as if he’s intruding. Jungkook looks a complete mess, hair mussed and face covered in his own spit. But Taehyung gazes at him so fondly, pushing Jungkook’s bangs from his eyes and tugging a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe the mess from Jungkook’s face.
“Yeah,” Jungkook answers, much belatedly.
They’re sitting right in between Yoongi’s spread thighs. There isn’t anywhere for him to move, nowhere for him to escape. His cock is sitting at an awkward angle in his pants, throbbing painfully with oversensitivity, and —
When Taehyung turns to gaze up at him, Yoongi immediately clears his throat.
“I’m — “ he starts, and he doesn’t know where all of the confidence he had only a few minutes ago went. Anxiety swallows him up. What has he even done wrong? He can’t figure it out, but he feels it, down to his very bones. “Sorry.”
Taehyung’s brows furrow. “You don’t need to be sorry,” he says, even as he wraps his arms around Jungkook’s shoulders. “You can — “
“I should. Probably get going.”
The words spill from Yoongi’s lips faster than he can think about them. His eyes flick between Jungkook and Taehyung, the way Jungkook leans into Taehyung’s body even when he’s clearly so out of it, the way Taehyung had looked at him not even a minute ago filling Yoongi’s mind up to the brim.
He wonders how many centuries they’ve been together.
“Oh,” Taehyung says. There’s something about his tone that strikes Yoongi as disappointed. “Right, well — let me walk you out.“
As soon as Taehyung leans back, pulling Jungkook with him, Yoongi stands. He quickly turns towards the door, spotting his jacket on a sideboard by the door. But before he can grab it himself, Taehyung picks it up himself, shaking it out until it’s upright and gesturing as if he wants to help Yoongi put it on.
A blush immediately darkens Yoongi’s cheeks. He lets it happen, though — holds his arms out and allows Taehyung to slide his arms into the sleeves, lets Taehyung wrap his arm around Yoongi’s waist and carefully walk him towards the door.
“Thank you,” Taehyung says. There’s something so old-fashioned about the way he speaks, the simple manner in which he holds himself. “We had a nice time.”
Yoongi had walked in their front door, fucked Jungkook’s face, and then immediately said he wanted to leave. Shame swells in his throat.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says. They’re probably nice people. They’ve probably been together for years and years and years, longer than Yoongi has even been alive. They’ll probably still be together long after Yoongi is dead, and — “Of course, yeah. I had a nice time, too.”
He doesn’t pay attention to much of anything as Taehyung opens the front door for him. Just stumbles from the front porch, fishing his car keys from his pocket. The brick rustles against the soles of his boots — god, he hadn’t even taken them off. The cold night air nips at the tips of his fingers as he tugs the door to his car open and crawls into the front seat. When he finally wraps his fingers around the steering wheel and stares up at the mansion, the front door is closed and Taehyung is nowhere to be found.
Silence encroaches. Yoongi shoves his key into the ignition but falls short of turning it.
The car is silent around him. Wind rustles through the leaves of the trees, and Yoongi —
He’s in the middle of nowhere. A town he hadn’t visited since he was a teenager. One month ago, he’d dumped his boyfriend of nearly three years. And now his Aunt Miyeon is dead.
Yoongi isn’t sad.
He’s not sad, but in the coming moments regret fills him up to the brim. Yoongi feels it top up his throat, closes his mouth against the way it tries to spill out of him, but — he doesn’t know. He presses his palms to his eyes, wonders what the absolute fuck he thinks he’s doing. Before he knows it, he feels tears spill from his eyes.
Yoongi’s aunt is dead. She’s dead, and Yoongi just had casual sex, and now he has to drive back to her empty fucking house to go through her things, and he just —
He cries. He isn’t sad, but he cries. He taps his toes against the brake and pushes in until he feels the pedal refuse to move any further, breathing in sharply. It’s not a sob, but it sounds uncomfortably close to one. What is Yoongi doing? What is he fucking doing with his life, why is he here, why did he just do that.
Outside the car, he hears a noise.
Slowly, Yoongi pulls his palms away from his eyes. With a growing sense of dread, he realizes that the front door of the mansion is open once again. Taehyung stands in the doorway, hands shoved in the pockets of his stupid feathered jacket.
Yoongi leans forward, allowing his forehead to thunk loudly against the steering wheel, and tries not to audibly groan.