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cognitive resonance

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It had been Yoongi’s idea. He’d promised Hoseok a reward for his good behaviour. That is, if he’d managed to do it. Hoseok had laughed, gaze amused, and said he could.

He did.

It had been so much fun, watching the way Hoseok carried himself the entire day, the slightest hint of a limp in his step. Forehead leaning against the window of the car, earphones in, pretending he doesn’t feel a single thing. Biting his lip during the interview, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants, as Yoongi absently toyed with the remote in his pocket.

Yoongi wonders how Hoseok had held up for so long. Having a vibrator inside him the entire day must have been torture. Especially since Yoongi’s had the time of his life messing with the buttons, always half a step behind Hoseok to see his reaction.

Hoseok had cornered him in the bathroom backstage at the music show, halfway through the day, exhaling sharply, “Stop fucking with the settings.” He’d pressed Yoongi up against the wall of the stall. Yoongi had nearly lost his breath when he felt just how hard Hoseok was. Had he been this turned on the entire day? “I swear to god,” Hoseok had whispered, “if anyone notices—”

“They won’t.” Hoseok hadn’t even noticed Yoongi’s hand slipping into his pocket again, jerking involuntarily when Yoongi rested the tip of his finger over the speed settings button, face flushing red, almost swaying on the spot. “Whoops. Finger slipped.”

Yoongi.” His voice almost slips into a whine, frustrated and low. Yoongi strokes his fingers over Hoseok’s hip, and leaves him a promise of later.

He probably deserves it, Yoongi does, when they get back to the hotel, and Hoseok shoves him back against the door so hard his elbow hits wood with a loud smack, and Yoongi bites back a pained hiss. “You promised,” says Hoseok, voice sweet, almost, and Yoongi knows that he’s done waiting. “Please,” says Hoseok this time, the pretense dropping. His hips roll up against Yoongi’s, and Yoongi exhales. “God, I’ve been waiting to get off the entire fucking day.”

“I know,” says Yoongi, and he catches Hoseok by the wrist when Hoseok attempts to palm himself through his jeans, long past the point of holding off any further. “Not until I say so.”

Hoseok nearly cries with relief when Yoongi has him on the bed, when Yoongi finally removes the vibrator and god, does Hoseok make the best sounds. They’ve barely started anything, but there’s already sweat running down Hoseok’s face, and he’s so hard, so fucking hard.

“Come on,” says Hoseok, tone pleading, and Yoongi leans in to kiss him, groaning when Hoseok nips at his lip instead, tugging it between his teeth, before licking over it. “You said you’d reward me, didn’t you?”

“Say please,” murmurs Yoongi, just teasing, but there’s a flash of something else in Hoseok’s eyes, and Yoongi knows—oh, god, Yoongi knows just exactly what Hoseok is going to do.

“Please,” says Hoseok, voice low, casual, “reward me. Fuck me with that nice cock of yours,” he says, and Yoongi’s mouth falls open, heat building in his gut almost immediately. Hoseok always exploits this, the fact that words said just the right way can turn Yoongi on quicker than anything else ever can. Yoongi fists his hand around Hoseok’s cock and strokes up hard, just to see the way Hoseok’s eyes flutter shut, a moan slipping out. “God, you’re so good,” he says softly, and Yoongi can’t help curling his teeth over his lip, ignoring the spark that lights, “you like that? Because I do. I like it when you get all flustered.”

“Wait,” Yoongi attempts to say, but Hoseok flips them over, and Yoongi’s lost this round. Hoseok has got him wrapped around his little finger with nothing more than a couple of sentences.

“I’ll take my reward now, then,” murmurs Hoseok, leaning in so close that Yoongi can count every single lash against his cheek. “Can I fuck myself on your cock, Yoongi?”

“God,” breathes Yoongi, “fuck, yes, Hoseok.”

There’s no hitch. Hoseok slicks Yoongi up with a palmful of lube, and slides down onto him without any hesitation, and it’s so fucking good, how tight he feels around Yoongi, despite having had the vibrator in him the entire day. “Later,” says Hoseok, beginning to rock his hips back and forth, each word punctuated by a soft moan, “later, you’re going to—ah, fuck—you’re going to fuck me again, and—hah, and you’re going to use that toy, and you’re going to fuck me so good—can you do that, Yoongi? Come on, Yoongi—ah— tell me you can.”

“Fucking hell,” swears Yoongi, breath catching in his throat. Every single fucking time Hoseok says anything like this, Yoongi can never concentrate on anything but the words that repeat themselves in his mind, over and over. “Yes.”

“Good,” breathes Hoseok, shoulders curling in, “you feel so good, Yoongi.”

It doesn’t take long for Hoseok to come, hot strings of white across his front, dripping down onto Yoongi’s own stomach. He’s been wound-up the entire day. Yoongi barely waits for him to pull off Yoongi before he’s reversing their positions again, fumbling for his suitcase that’s next to the bed.

“You can’t come until I tell you to,” comes Yoongi’s voice, soft, into Hoseok’s ear, as he slowly binds his wrists together above his head with one of his ties, and Hoseok just watches him, breath coming in hard exhales. “Remember that.”

It’s worth every single second of waiting to get himself off, the way Hoseok squirms when Yoongi works the vibrator into him, whimpering when Yoongi turns it up to full speed. Hoseok’s limbs tremble even harder than the vibrator does, by the time he’s saying, “Yoongi, please—”

“I said, wait.” Yoongi doesn’t let loose, the hand he has around the base of Hoseok’s cock, fingers smeared with a mix of lube and come. Hoseok’s hips buck into his grip when Yoongi pulls the vibrator out and twists it back into him, fast and hard, until Hoseok’s moans are coming in short, staccato bursts. “Can I?”

“Fuck, yeah,” says Hoseok, words breathless, and there’s a soft sound of regret when Yoongi tugs the vibrator back out, but it’s quickly replaced with a loud, drawn-out groan of Yoongi’s name when Yoongi slides his own cock into Hoseok, grunting when Hoseok wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist tight, rolling his hips back against Yoongi’s cock. “Fuck,” says Hoseok, almost spent past the point of return, satisfaction lacing his voice with every thrust Yoongi makes, “I love it when you fuck me like this.”

“Hoseok,” says Yoongi, breath hitching when Hoseok says the words. You’ve got a little praise kink, Hoseok had laughed, the first time he’d gotten Yoongi off with nothing more than a few whispered words into his ear, you like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you? When I tell you just how fucking amazing you feel inside me. “Fuck, please—”

“Come on, Yoongi,” says Hoseok, sentence cracking in the middle when Yoongi’s hips stutter, so close to coming already, “Yoongi, please—hah, please, come on, good boy, that’s it, fuck me harder, fuck me so hard I come saying your name—”

Yoongi can’t hold himself back. He comes with a bitten back groan, entire body burning up, fingers curling so hard into the sheets his knuckles go white. Hoseok lets out a most frustrated noise when Yoongi comes inside him, still left hanging.

“Please,” whispers Hoseok, “please, please, my turn, please—”

Yoongi makes him wait, pulls out from Hoseok and holds him down by the hips with one hand, before barely sucking the head of Hoseok’s cock into his mouth, just teasing, just soft licks of his tongue against the leaking tip of his cock. Hoseok can’t even do a single thing, with his hands still tied above his head, and Yoongi holding him down. For all his height, Yoongi is surprisingly capable of strength when he needs it. Hoseok knows that all too well.

Hoseok lets out a moan that sounds halfway to a sob, when Yoongi drags his tongue up along the the side of his cock, still withholding release even as he kisses the head of Hoseok’s cock, murmuring, “Is that enough already?”

“Yes, yes,” says Hoseok, “fuck, just let me come, oh god—”

Yoongi lets go, and slides his mouth all the way down Hoseok’s cock, only needing a few hard sucks before Hoseok’s back is arching, heels digging into the mattress, coming in spurts. Yoongi swallows what he can, and wipes the rest off his chin, before reaching up to kiss Hoseok, long and hard and messy.

“Shit,” says Hoseok, dazedly, and Yoongi undoes the tie on his wrists. “I thought I was going to pass out. You left me hanging so fucking long.”

Yoongi presses a kiss to his temple, and says, “Sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” Hoseok doesn’t move. “I’m dead,” he announces, “you’ve fucked the life out of me.”

“Good to know,” says Yoongi, flopping down next to him, decidedly too lazy to clean up either. “Sorry for fucking with the settings, today.”

“No, you’re not.” Hoseok snorts. “Tomorrow, it’s my turn to hold the remote.”

Yoongi scoffs. “I’ve got much better control than you, anyway. As if you think that’ll get me worked up.”

“Maybe it won’t,” says Hoseok, but he shifts closer, and his nose bumps against the shell of Yoongi’s ear. “But maybe,” he whispers, “if I just lean in every now and then, and mention, well, you know, just how perfect you would look, all flustered and red and needy, because of that toy all snug in your ass—”

Yoongi groans, kissing Hoseok in an attempt to shut him up, and to alleviate the growing arousal that Hoseok’s just re-incited, and Hoseok laughs into the kiss, murmuring, “So easy.”