Work Text:
Jungkook is kneeling.
The room is empty, for now. He kneels by the entrance, hands on his lap, head lowered. Sometimes, knowing he’s alone, Jungkook dares a glance at his surroundings to try and see what Hoseok has in store for him today.
He can see the leather bench in the center of the room, so he imagines he will end up cuffed to it at some point. The thought of it has his skin covered in shivers, his heart quickening with expectations.
Hoseok likes cuffing him to the bench, legs spread open and kept that way for as long as he likes. He enjoys having Jungkook at his mercy, vulnerable and helpless to his skilled hands.
Jungkook swallows, squirming a bit where he’s kneeling, and has to mute a gasp as he does. The plug Hoseok carefully opened him up with is so big he can feel it pressing at his walls even when he breathes in too deep.
“Relax for me, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok had whispered in his ear as he slowly pushed the plug inside, his hole already stretched wide with just the tip. “You can take it, can’t you?”
Jungkook trembles at the memory, his cock twitching, half-hard between his thighs.
It’s been twenty minutes since then, ten minutes since he’s been sitting here. His legs are starting to go numb but Jungkook finds himself enjoying that too, the difference in heat between his skin and the cold floor.
He’s falling in his headspace quicker than usual today. Maybe it’s because of Hoseok, he has that effect on him and has had it ever since they met at that exhibition years ago.
Back then, Taehyung was there too and—
Jungkook breathes in. He doesn’t want to think about Taehyung. If he thinks about Taehyung he’ll think about their last conversation and how badly it ended. And if he thinks about that, he’ll end up thinking about the first time they had sex, and if he does that—
He doesn’t want to think about it.
Jungkook doesn’t want to think at all. That’s why he’s here.
The door opens. Jungkook straightens his shoulder and keeps his head down, toes curling.
Hoseok hums a silly tune as he walks into the room, moving things around and speaking to himself as he does.
Jungkook focuses on breathing and tries not to clench around the plug inside him.
Hoseok’s bare feet appear in his line of sight. “Lift up your head.”
Jungkook obeys, looking at him and finding the man smiling wide. “Good?”
Jungkook nods. Hoseok hums and strokes his hair. “It’s gotten longer, huh? You look pretty.” Then, he moves his hand to Jungkook’s cheek, thumb swiping in gentle circles over the little scar on his cheekbone. “I want to gag you. Is that okay?”
Jungkook hums, nodding his head again.
Hoseok walks away and returns after a few seconds, holding a gag ball in his hand. Jungkook parts his lips easily, allowing the light gag to sit in his mouth. When Hoseok fastens the leather straps behind his head, Jungkook’s whimper comes out muffled and useless.
“You’re so responsive today,” Hoseok says, still smiling like he’s talking about his day. He crouches down, the loose and flimsy material of his shirt exposing his chest and collarbones with how low the hem rides. “I have lots of ideas for today, I don’t even know where to start.” A pause. “But it’s fine, right? You’ll like whatever.”
Jungkook’s skin starts prickling with heat, fingers twitching on his lap.
That’s right, he will. He’ll like everything, anything. And Hoseok knows this, so Hoseok will give it to him.
That’s how things should go, how it works for Jungkook. No need for anything else.
Hoseok reaches between Jungkook’s legs and holds his dick in a loose fist, stroking it slowly and with almost no pressure. Jungkook’s eyes close, a hum escaping him, thighs pressing together tight.
“Look how hard you’re getting already.” Hoseok looks at him, face warm with fondness when he says, “My best slut.”
Jungkook sighs, cock twitching in Hoseok’s fingers.
Namjoon tried contacting him five times yesterday.
Jungkook blinks and shakes his head lightly.
“What?” Hoseok asks. “Not my slut?”
Again, Jungkook shakes his head. He is his slut, he’s Hoseok’s slut whenever Hoseok calls him, whenever Jungkook wants to be.
“Up.”
Jungkook stands, legs a little weak and numb, and Hoseok guides him to the bench.
“On your back for me.”
Jungkook is quick to obey, laying down on the bench, shivering at the cool feeling of the leather on his bare skin. He positions his legs so that they rest on the appropriate leg-cushions, the joints of them moving slightly at the added weight. This way, his ass is just over the bench’s edge, hanging in the air. When Hoseok will cuff him and move the cushions further apart, Jungkook will be fully exposed to him.
“If you’re gagged and you want to stop what do you do?” Hoseok asks him.
Jungkook closes his fist once, twice, and Hoseok nods.
So Hoseok gets to work. Jungkook watches him as the man grabs a pair of padded handcuffs and secures them around Jungkook’s wrists, making sure they’re not too tight by fitting one of his fingers inside between the leather padding and Jungkook’s skin. Then, he links the cuff’s chain to the bench’s hook. Jungkook breathes in and out, eyes closing at the strain of his arms, now forced above his head.
Hoseok moves to his legs: grabbing the leather straps of the bench, he secures Jungkook’s thighs and ankles to the movable bench joints, once again checking that nothing is too tight. Once he’s satisfied, with quick and experienced movements, Hoseok maneuvers the cushions higher up, further apart. Jungkook gasps.
“There we go,” Hoseok whispers. “Look at you.”
Jungkook does, straining his neck to look down at himself. The sight of his legs, forcefully spread open like this, with no way for him to close them, steals a quiet moan from him.
He looks good like this, he knows he does. And the way Hoseok is looking at him is setting his chest ablaze.
Hoseok is usually such a lovely, charming person. Never speaks ill of anyone, always has a good word for everyone. Kind and cheerful and funny.
But now—God, now Hoseok’s features are so sharp, his eyes so dark with want.
Jungkook tries moving and finds it impossible, can only squirm on the leather seat under Hoseok’s heated gaze.
“Ah, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok breathes out, standing between his legs and bringing his hands to stroke over his inner thighs. “So fucking lewd.”
Jungkook rests his head on the bench, breathing slowly through his nose as Hoseok’s fleeting touches continue. His thighs, his navel, the softer part of his hips. Hoseok tends to take his time when they play like this, sometimes for so long that Jungkook has to start begging to be touched where he wants to.
But Hoseok today promised him he’d be nice. He said so while he worked that plug inside of him, told him that since he was taking it so well he was going to make Jungkook feel good, so good—
Jungkook startles once Hoseok leans down to press his tongue flat against Jungkook’s cock, licking up slowly before taking the tip in his mouth.
“Ah—” Jungkook moans around the gag, drool already dripping at the corners of his mouth. He’s glad Hoseok had mercy on him and used the holed gag, he’s having trouble regulating his breathing today.
Hoseok hums as he mouths at Jungkook’s dick, tongue flicking at the head, lips closing around it to suck as his hands keep moving over Jungkook’s body, over his chest, fingertips grazing at his nipples, sending waves of heat all over.
“I want you to come in my mouth,” Hoseok says, voice tight. “And then you’ll come again when I fuck you with that thing inside your ass.”
Jungkook whines, hips uselessly trying to lift up and press against Hoseok’s warm mouth. He’ll do it, he’ll do anything, until he’s so sensitive and spent that even a breath will be enough to make him cry, he doesn’t care.
He doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to think, he just wants pleasure, he just wants Hoseok.
Hoseok takes Jungkook’s cock deeper in his mouth, humming around it, squeezing the base in his hand and Jungkook cries out; he tries arching on the bench and can only lift himself an inch or so. Hoseok’s tongue swirls around the head, his lips soft and warm as he swallows him deeper and then pulls back, sucking as he does.
Jungkook moans, tongue pressed against the gag. He can’t even try to hide his noises like this. There’s not a part of him that isn’t exposed to Hoseok, he’s bare, raw.
So good, Jungkook tries saying, and only a muffled noise comes out.
Hoseok hums around him, bobbing his head faster, letting go of his cock only to lick wetly at it, his hands squeezing the soft flesh of his thighs.
“Desperate slut,” Hoseok says and then laughs when Jungkook whimpers. “You are. Such a fucking slut for pleasure, aren’t you?”
Jungkook’s head swims. He is, and he doesn’t care. It’s good to feel pleasure, he doesn’t need to question it.
Hoseok takes his dick in his mouth again, sucking him fast and tight, blunt fingers raking over Jungkook’s chest, leaving faint red lines that burn just enough for Jungkook to cry out and clench his stomach.
It takes an embarrassingly short time for Jungkook’s body to let go. He comes into Hoseok's mouth without warning, his orgasm taking both of them by surprise. Jungkook chokes on a cry as Hoseok hums around his cock, swallowing down his cum and digging his fingers in Jungkook’s hips until it bruises- until it hurts so good that Jungkook moans and trembles.
“Fuck,” Hoseok hisses, wiping at his mouth. “So quick? Huh?”
‘m sorry, Jungkook tries saying, gag stretching his mouth open wide, jaw sore.
Hoseok doesn’t let him catch his breath, nor come down from his high. He reaches between Jungkook’s parted legs and grabs the end of the plug, pulling at the toy until it catches on his rim.
Jungkook’s toes curl, body taut as his hole stretches around the wider part of the toy, pleasure burning hot when it presses against his prostate. His cock twitches weakly, still hard.
“Fuck, you should see your hole,” Hoseok laughs, voice almost kind when he adds, “Made to be filled, isn’t it? The way you’re clenching around it, it’s like you don’t wanna be empty.”
Jungkook’s fingers hold onto the cuff’s chain, tugging at it while Hoseok pushes the plug back inside of him, then out, slowly building an agonizing rhythm.
Jungkook’s body keeps arching through it, legs straining against the straps that keep them still, his rim stretching and clenching around the plug that fucks into him faster and faster, at a merciless angle that leaves him breathless and voiceless, pleasure washing through him without a way for him to release it.
“Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok calls, his breath short as he fucks Jungkook with the plug, the veins on his forearm a pretty blue. “Such a good hole you are, Jungkook. Made to be fucked .”
With a sob, Jungkook comes again, dry and untouched, limbs going pliant in a moment, head hazy with heat, and pleasure, and more more more more, give me more—
It had been Taehyung who told him to go to the exhibition.
Something about finding this dude’s photos on Instagram, and loving the vibe of them. So he had gotten two tickets, one for him and one for Jimin, but then Jimin had bailed on him (for Yoongi, always Yoongi) and so Taehyung invited Jungkook.
Jungkook might not be an expert in photography, but he does enjoy it. Studying cinema, framing and color theory is something the two arts share and he can appreciate good photography when he sees it.
Jung Hoseok was there. Opening night, he wanted to introduce his work with his own words.
Hoseok was so easy to like. Jungkook felt like every single person in that exhibition hall was immediately charmed by him, by how easygoing he was, how he talked so quickly and had to stop himself at times because he kept losing himself in tangents.
His photography was beautiful. Still is.
Still-moments of domestic life shot in either black and white or colors so bright it moved the person watching. Warm yellows, the warmest Jungkook had ever seen. The subjects were always faceless, shot just beneath their mouths, and yet one could feel the emotion of the scene: dancing in a kitchen with no music, sleeping without the covers in June but holding their partner all the same, fingers stroking together at dinner, an argument left open on a Sunday morning.
Jungkook had stopped in front of one photo for longer than normal, probably, while Taehyung had wandered somewhere deeper into the hall.
This one was different. Black and white, one strong hand wrapped around a bare thigh, thumb digging ever so gently into the giving flesh.
“Do you like it?”
Jungkook turned around and found Jung Hoseok standing by his side. He swam in his clothes but he didn’t look clumsy. It suited him, made him look elegant and dainty.
“I’m not really an expert.”
Hoseok shrugged. “Photography isn’t reserved for the experts.”
“I do like it. I mean, I liked all the photos.”
“But this one more than the others?”
“It’s just—” Jungkook looked at the photo again. “It’s intimate.”
Hoseok looked at him for a few moments and Jungkook found himself getting warm under the attention.
“Do you like intimate photos?” Hoseok asked.
“I guess.”
“Mh.”
“Is it you?” Jungkook asked. “In the photos, I mean.”
Hoseok shook his head, smiling. “No, I’m never the subject.” He paused. “Not for this kind of photos, at least.”
Jungkook’s fingers twitched. His chest tightened, heart quickening. “What kind of other photos do you take?”
Hoseok’s smile had only widened, warm and friendly, but his voice—there was a weight to it when he said, “Intimate ones.”
Jungkook wet his lips and Hoseok’s eyes followed the movement.
At that moment, in that hall, Jungkook had decided he wanted him.
“What’s your name?”
“Jungkook.”
“Do you want to see them, Jungkook?” Hoseok asked him. “My other photos?”
By some weird twist of events, it turned out that Hoseok went to university with Namjoon.
They hooked up twice, apparently.
Five days after the exhibition, Jungkook was in front of Hoseok’s private study.
“Before I show them to you, I’ll just say this.” Hoseok rubbed at his cheek. “When I say intimate, I mean it.”
“Okay.”
“Like, explicit.”
“Yeah, no, I gathered that.”
Hoseok laughed, loud and boisterous. Then, he opened the door of his study.
The first photo he saw was one framed to the wall: in it, a sinuous body was bare and arched. The subject, framed from her neck down, had her hands on her breasts, a nipple showing between her fingers, and her legs were drawn to her stomach, showing only the curve of her back, of her buttocks. In another one, laid against the wall, a man was shot by the side, ankles and hands tied up together, the column of his neck strained as he had his chin held by long, delicate fingers.
“That hand is yours,” Jungkook whispered. “Isn’t it?”
“Mh, it is.” Hoseok paced around the room. “In that one, too, is me.”
Jungkook followed Hoseok’s gaze and found himself swallowing as his sight landed on said picture. The photo showed a man being fucked. There was no pretense to it: the body of the subject was arched in a way that suggested he was writhing in pleasure, bound hands laid on his stomach as if they were reaching for his hard, leaking dick. And then, lower, between his parted legs, was his ass fucked open by a cock.
Hoseok’s cock.
“Erotic and fetish photography actually pays a lot more than what I show at exhibitions,” Hoseok explained. “These ones are actually quite tame. The more explicit ones are sold already.”
Jungkook swallowed. “They’re beautiful.”
“Ah, thank you.”
“Do you have sex with all of your models?”
Hoseok looked at him, a hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “No. Not all of them.” He walked closer to Jungkook, hands in the pockets of his baggy pants, thin wrists covered in pretty bracelets. “I tend to have quite specific tastes that not everyone enjoys.”
“Like what?”
Hoseok arched an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”
“You might find out we share some of them.”
Hoseok breathed in and held it in his chest. “I like it when the people I fuck are tied up. I like it when they can’t move unless I move them.”
Jungkook bit off a gasp, but something in his face must gave him away. Hoseok’s gaze darkened, his lips parted.
“I like it—” he said, stepping closer still. “When the men I fuck enjoy pain.”
“Yeah?” Jungkook whispered.
“I like it when they cry for me.” Hoseok smiled and that was what had Jungkook so weak so fast: that he smiled so warmly, so genuinely, only to say, “I bet you’d cry so nicely for me.”
They fucked in the studio that day.
They were too desperate to get naked, to find a bed. Hoseok pushed him on the floor and fingered Jungkook open fast and rough until Jungkook was whimpering and begging for Hoseok to just fuck him, until he was rutting his cock against the smooth, cold floor.
So Hoseok fucked him, held him down as he did, praising filth in Jungkook’s ear, telling him things that had Jungkook clenching around Hoseok’s cock, that made him beg shamelessly.
They did it again two weeks later, then one month later, until it became a rule to meet every three weeks at least.
Hoseok is good to him when Jungkook wants him to be good, and cruel when Jungkook asks him to.
Hoseok is perfect because Hoseok doesn’t love him.
“Are you gonna come again? So soon?”
Jungkook wants to say that no, he won't, he'll be good. Instead, he just moans around Hoseok’s fingers, tongue swirling between them as Hoseok keeps thrusting them into his mouth, slow and steady.
The plug lays somewhere on the ground. Not that Hoseok left him empty for long; quickly, he went and got a thick, long vibrator and lubed it up for him before pushing it inside Jungkook with a single push, laughing at him when Jungkook screamed and his cock leaked over his abdomen.
Jungkook doesn’t know if Hoseok set the toy at the highest setting, but he definitely hopes so. Anything stronger than this and he will lose his mind.
By his side, Hoseok fucks Jungkook’s mouth with his pretty fingers and tugs at his nipple with his free hand, twisting it and squeezing it so hard Jungkook can’t stop his shameless, overwhelmed whimpers and cries.
When Hoseok had taken the gag off Jungkook was almost disappointed, but Hoseok was quick to fill it again with his fingers and this is much better.
“Look at how hard they are,” Hoseok muses, flicking at a nipple with his nail. “All red and puffy. Bet they hurt.”
Jungkook hiccups, lips closing around Hoseok’s fingers to suck them.
“They do, don’t they? You love it.” Hoseok leans down, to lick at his earlobe and then to whisper, “Fucking painslut.”
Jungkook’s face flushed with shame, body squirming uselessly on the bench, The second he moves his hips, the vibrator pushes against his prostate and Jungkook sobs, cock twitching and weeping. Fuck, he’s so wet there ever since he came dry, it’s pooling on his belly.
“Well, that’s just begging to be touched.” Hoseok reaches for his dick, holding it in his fist and pulling at it before letting it go, watching as it slaps back against Jungkook’s skin. “You’re fucking hard.”
Jungkook twitches, shivering. That hurt. Fuck, that hurt so good. He tries speaking but Hoseok’s fingers push down on his tongue.
“You liked that? Of course you did.” Again, Hoseok grabs his dick and slaps it against Jungkook’s abdomen. “Figures you’d like getting your cock played with like this. Bet you could come from this. Should we try?”
Jungkook whines around the fingers in his mouth, then moans when Hoseok keeps on pulling at his cock and letting it go, laughing at each slap of it on his skin.
Jungkook is losing control over his body. It keeps shaking and squirming, the pain going to his head in waves of electricity, the pleasure from the vibrator inside of him turning him stupid with it, loud, shameless.
And it’s so good to feel like this, to float with each sensation, to feel the stretch of his own hole and the sound his cock makes when it slaps against his belly.
Fuck, he feels so light right now.
“Breathe,” Hoseok murmurs, kneading at the head of his cock. “Or I’ll stop.”
Jungkook whimpers, distress settling deep in his bones. So he forces himself to breathe in, out.
“Good boy,” Hoseok tells him. “Don’t make me worry.”
“‘m ‘orry—” Jungkook slurs around Hoseok’s fingers.
“It’s okay, just keep breathing. Nice and steady, like that.” Hoseok glances at him. “Still good?”
Jungkook nods eagerly. He’s great, he’s fucking perfect.
“Alright.” Looking at him straight in the eyes, Hoseok slaps his cock against his belly again and laughs when Jungkook whines high and long. “Ah, the look on your face right now. Come on, Jungkook-ah, make hyung happy and come.”
Jungkook shakes his head, crying out when his cock slaps down again. “‘ean—”
“Huh? What was that?” Hoseok grins at him, fingers dragging over his tongue. “Am I being mean?”
Jungkook nods, eyes burning.
“But you like it when I’m mean,” Hoseok says, squeezing the head of Jungkook’s cock in his fist. “You come to me because you want me to be mean.”
Jungkook is going to come.
His cock hurts, and the rest of him feels so good, and he’s going to come again.
“You don’t want me to be kind,” Hoseok adds, twisting his fist and pumping Jungkook’s dick in a tight, aching grip. “You want me to fuck you stupid, is what you want. Until you forget your own fucking name, until you’re drooling like a bitch in heat—”
Jungkook throws his head back, muscles clenching and pleasure washing through him scorching hot, overwhelmingly so, until he’s crying and his cum is all over his chest, on Hoseok’s fist, and the vibrator slips out of him, falling on the ground with a loud noise.
“Ah,” Hoseok sighs, pulling his fingers out and clicking his tongue. “Look at this mess.”
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook gasps. His body feels so fucking light despite how badly he’s shaking. “Hyung, ‘m sorry, felt so good I just—”
“I can see you felt good.” Hoseok chuckles, moving to where the vibrator is still buzzing on the ground. He grabs it and turns it off, leaving it on a shelf nearby. “Covered in your own cum. I should take a picture, people would pay good money for this.”
“Okay,” Jungkook whines. “‘s fine if hyung takes a photo.”
“Who says I want to, though?” Hoseok goes to stand between his parted legs, stroking over his thighs. “Who says I want to share?”
Jungkook closes his eyes, humming at the slow, gentle strokes of Hoseok’s hands. “Hyung.”
“Mh?”
“Hyung, more.”
“More? You’re not even hard anymore.”
“Don’t care, give me more.” Jungkook swallows, words feeling like sandpaper in his mouth. “Give me something, anything.”
Hoseok stays quiet for a while. Then, his hands move down, to press around the swell of Jungkook’s ass. “You think I haven’t noticed all of these marks?”
Oh.
“Did you get whipped? Flogged?” Hoseok snorts, fingers pressing over the fading bruises. “This must have been a punishment, but I bet you enjoyed it.”
He did.
Of course he did.
He doesn’t want to think about Yoongi or Jimin.
“Hyung,” Jungkook calls, voice weak. “Hyung, I wanna kiss.”
Hoseok breathes in deeply before moving so that he stands by his side. Leaning over Jungkook, bracing an elbow by his head, Hoseok smiles at him. “Yeah?”
“Can we?”
Hoseok doesn’t answer him. He simply leans down, to press his mouth to Jungkook’s.
Yeah, this is much better. Hoseok is good at kissing, he’s always so passionate.
He starts slow and gentle, lips soft, warm. Then Hoseok licks at the seam of Jungkook’s mouth, humming at the quiet noise Jungkook makes, and does it again and again, tracing the swell of his bottom lip with his tongue until Jungkook’s mouth parts open, until he can kiss him deep and slow.
Jungkook sighs into it, his tongue pressing against Hoseok’s, their lips slotting together.
Hoseok’s hand grabs a fistful of hair, tugging until Jungkook’s chin tilts up and his neck strains at the angle. He licks into Jungkook’s mouth, bites his lip, and then sucks around his tongue before kissing him again.
“Good,” Jungkook whispers against Hoseok’s mouth. “I feel good.”
“Yeah?” Hoseok looks at him, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Tell me how good you feel.”
Jungkook gasps when Hoseok’s mouth moves to his neck, on that spot that is always so sensitive under his jaw. “F-feel light.”
“What else?”
“Warm. So warm. I—” Jungkook’s sentence is stopped by a quiet, surprised noise at the feeling of Hoseok’s fingers skimming over his stomach. “Hyung. Hoseok-hyung. ”
“I’m here,” Hoseok murmurs. He presses his tongue to Jungkook’s neck, closing his mouth around it to suck and bite. “Talk to me, baby. Be a good slut for hyung and I’ll make you feel good.”
Jungkook’s chest heaves, his dick twitching weakly as Hoseok’s fingers move closer and closer. “Can’t move—like I want. And I like it. I like that I can’t move.”
The tips of Hoseok’s fingers meet the head of his cock, still soft but slowly hardening again.
“Why do you like it?” Hoseok asks. His voice is heavy now, and he keeps on teasing that same patch of skin, it’s starting to feel so sensitive there, raw, bruised.
“Because then,” Jungkook tries lifting his hips, to chase Hoseok’s fingers. “Then you can do anything to-to me.”
Hoseok palms at Jungkook’s cock, gently taking it in his hand. “You like how helpless you are.”
It’s not a question.
Jungkook nods, eyes closing against his will. His head is swimming again. “I like it. I just—wanna feel good. Don’t care how— ah, hyung! ”
Hoseok has started stroking Jungkook’s cock again. Slow, tight strokes, his fist slick with Jungkook’s cum, and the noise is filthy, wet.
“Fuck,” Jungkook gasps. He’s shaking, he’s burning. “Too—too much, it’s too sensitive.”
“You like it.”
“I—” Jungkook tilts his head to the side, whining low, only giving Hoseok’s warm mouth more skin for him to tease. “I l-like it. Feels good, feels—I feel so warm.”
“You look so filthy right now,” Hoseok whispers to him. “Look at you, look at your cock in my hand. Still covered in your cum and getting hard anyway.”
“Yeah,” Jungkook moans. He’s having trouble thinking right now and he finds himself not caring, not at all. “Filthy, I’m filthy. A slut.”
“My slut.”
“Your slut, ‘m your slut.” Jungkook manages to squirm enough for his hips to push up, to fuck into Hoseok’s fist in weak, clumsy thrusts. “ Ah, hyung’s hand feels so good.”
Hoseok swears under his breath and surges forward, kissing Jungkook again, hard and deep until Jungkook wonders if he’ll be able to breathe, and then realizes he doesn’t particularly care.
Hoseok’s mouth feels good, and his hand too, and Jungkook feels like he might explode, burst at the seams.
All of a sudden, he’s so aware of every single inch of his body. Of his sore nipples and his bruised neck, of the lube dripping out of his hole, of the straps holding him in place and digging into his skin whenever he tries moving. Of Hoseok’s tongue and lips, of his own cock, hard and wet and so sensitive that pleasure keeps feeling a lot like aching and it’s perfect, it’s what he wants.
He wants to feel like he’s just flesh.
“Gonna come,” Jungkook moans, weakly pushing into Hoseok’s fist. “Hyung, I’m gonna come again.”
“Good slut,” Hoseok hisses, fist moving faster. “Come for hyung, make a mess.”
“‘m so close,” Jungkook gasps, his vision blurred. “Please, I wanna come, I wanna—”
Hoseok’s twists his fist, closes his fingers around his cockhead and Jungkook sobs when he orgasms, his body suddenly limp, cum pooling thin and clear over his belly, pleasure choking him until he can’t breathe.
Hoseok’s cock is big.
Jungkook is always surprised by how big it is because Hoseok is all lean curves and dainty waist, pretty wrists and elegant hands.
But his cock is big and getting fucked by it, filled with it, always has Jungkook breathless.
“Move,” Jungkook begs, clenching around Hoseok. “Hyung, move, please.”
“Drink first,” Hoseok tells him, leaning over him with a plastic cup in his hand, tipping it over Jungkook’s mouth. “Be good, drink some water and then hyung will make you feel good.”
He doesn’t want water, he wants to get fucked.
They took a break and Jungkook ate the chocolate Hoseok gave him, even allowing him to undo the straps around his legs despite wanting to be tied up for longer. He did convince Hoseok to not untie his hands though. Small victories.
With a whine, Jungkook parts his lips and swallows the water.
Compromises. Or something like that.
“Good.” Hoseok throws the cup on the ground. “Look at me.”
Jungkook does, blinking slowly.
“Still with me?”
That’s a stupid question, where would Jungkook go? “Yeah.”
“Okay.” Hoseok grabs Jungkook’s leg and, grunting, he hooks it over his shoulder. Like this, with the new angle, Hoseok’s cock is even deeper. “Shit, you’re shaking like crazy.”
Is he? Ah, he is.
He’s not cold, though. If anything, he’s sweating, he feels like he’s burning.
“Fuck me,” Jungkook whispers. “Please? Fuck me, hyung.”
Hoseok hums, hips pulling back.
Fuck, he can feel every damn inch of Hoseok’s cock inside him. And when Hoseok snaps his hips forward, fucking back inside him with one harsh thrust, Jungkook sees white.
Ah, Hoseok is so good at fucking him. He used to be a dancer or something, has crazy stamina and the way he uses his hips is fucking great. Like Ji—
No.
Not like him.
Jungkook tries speaking, tries asking Hoseok to go faster, to go deeper. All that comes out of him is a mess of words and moans, noises that make him burn with shame.
“Fucking good,” Hoseok groans, head tipped back and eyes closed as he fucks him. “Good slut, made to get fucked.”
Yeah, he is, he’s good at being fucked. Jungkook likes that, that he feels good for Hoseok.
Good hole, good slut, that’s what he is, that’s all he wants to be.
Is he going to come again? His cock keeps leaking precum, he’s sticky with it. A touch could break him, he thinks.
“Fuck, Jungkook, you’re so good,” Hoseok moans, hand squeezing his thigh, cock pressing at the perfect angle.
Jungkook’s head reels with the praise, chest tight, and everything feels good, every single thing.
When Hoseok leans in, bending him at an angle that has Jungkook sobbing, and when Hoseok kisses him, Jungkook thinks that yeah, he’ll come again and then maybe he’ll ask Hoseok to fuck his mouth, to come inside down his throat and—
“So lovely,” Hoseok whispers to him.
“You know that I love you, right? Just as much as I love him.”
“Wait—” Jungkook can’t breathe. “Hyung, stop.”
Hoseok freezes, eyes wide. “What?”
He can’t breathe.
“I—” Jungkook blinks. “I don’t—”
“Look at me.”
He can’t breathe.
“Jungkook, look at me.”
“Red, red red red , please—”
“It’s over, it’s done,” Hoseok says, voice steady. “I need you to breathe, can you do that for me?”
Jungkook nods. He breathes and still feels like he’s drowning.
“I’m gonna move, I’ll do it slowly. Okay?”
Since when did his body feel so heavy? It wasn’t like that earlier. No, earlier he was light, he was feeling good.
He doesn’t even feel Hoseok pulling out.
What he does feel, though, is the sudden emptiness. And then, the lack of something holding his arms back.
There’s nothing holding him back.
The first sob wrecks through him hard enough that he chokes on it, and the ones that follow leave him shivering, curling on his side on the bench.
“Jungkook-ah, baby,” Hoseok croons at his side. “Do you need to be alone? Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” Jungkook gasps, blindly reaching out for Hoseok. “Please, d-don’t go.”
“Okay, it’s alright.” Hoseok leans down, wrapping his arms around him. “It’s alright, I’m not leaving.”
The pressure of Hoseok’s arms, of his body, and the safety of it is enough for Jungkook to break again.
Last time he cried like this he was younger, and stupid, and heartbroken.
“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whimpers. “‘m so sorry.”
Hoseok holds him tighter, sighing. “You did nothing wrong. It’s alright, just breathe.”
But that’s a lie.
He did everything wrong. Everything.
“I never safe-worded before.”
Hoseok hums.
They’re in the little bedroom of his private studio, and Jungkook has been resting against Hoseok’s chest for so long his legs fell asleep.
“What was it?” Hoseok asks him. “If you want to tell me. Because—Jungkook, we’ve had much more intense sessions together. And I feel like it wasn’t due to the sex that you safe-worded.”
The taste of the chocolate Hoseok fed him once he got him cleaned up and in bed is still lingering on Jungkook’s tongue. “It wasn’t your fault, I mean it. You did everything right.”
“Then?”
Jungkook squirms. “I think I messed up.”
“Okay.” Hoseok strokes a hand over his arm, chin resting over the crown of Jungkook’s head. “Why do you think that?”
“You know that I see other people.”
“I mean, I’m friends with all of them, so.”
“Not all of them. You don’t know Seokjin.”
Hoseok clears his throat. “Jungkook. Baby. I know Kim Seokjin.”
“What?” Jungkook frowns. “How?”
“I literally went to college with Namjoon, do you really think I don’t know Jin-hyung? Those two were a thing through it all.”
“Right.” Jungkook clicks his tongue. “I know.”
“Namjoon told me you and Seokjin met.” Hoseok pauses. “Is that what’s upsetting you? That Namjoon and Seokjin were together?”
“No. Yes? I don’t—” Jungkook sighs. “Maybe. But not just that.”
“Okay. What else?”
“Yoongi and Jimin.”
Hoseok groans. “Oh, fuck, they told you.”
“Oh, so you knew too.” Jungkook tilts his head back, glaring at him. “Glad to know I was the only fucking idiot who didn’t.”
“Jungkook-ah.”
“Sorry. It’s not your fault, I’m not mad at you.” Jungkook leans his head against Hoseok’s chest again. “They didn’t actually tell me. I overheard them talking about it last time we met.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing.” Jungkook shrugs. “I pretended I didn’t hear them and ran away.” A wave of sadness and regret hits him, and his eyes sting again. “I hurt them so much. All this time, I’ve been hurting them.”
“You didn’t know, baby.”
“Didn’t I?” Jungkook hugs himself under the blanket. “After sex Jimin-hyung is always loose-lipped. He told me he loved me without realizing more times than I can count. And Yoongi-hyung? He might have not said it with words but, fuck, wasn’t it obvious? I just chose to ignore it. Like I ignored it with Tae.” Jungkook clenches his jaw. “I don’t want them to love me. I don’t want any of it.”
There’s silence for a while.
“Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok says then. “Why don’t you want them to love you when you’re in love with them?”
“What?” Jungkook looks at him. “No, I— I’m not—”
What?
He’s not in love with them? With all of them?
With Namjoon, from the second he saw him? Or with Taehyung, who is so good and kind and the best fucking person in the world? Or Yoongi and Jimin, who have been waiting for him for ages without a single damn word?
Even Hoseok, fuck, doesn’t he adore him?
Seokjin is an exception. He doesn’t know him well enough.
But that night, in Seokjin’s car, when Jungkook opened up and Seokjin listened without a shadow of judgment, Jungkook had been so charmed by him too.
“I’m not gonna sit here and say that I’m in love with you, ‘cause I’m not,” Hoseok adds after a while. “But I also can’t say I’m not into you. Like, a lot into you. And that I wouldn’t mind seeing you for more than just sex.”
Jungkook frowns. “You never said anything either.”
“Yeah, because I know you would have freaked out if I did.” Hoseok smiles at him. “Listen, Jungkook, I don’t know why the idea of being loved upsets you so much, and you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. But the thing is, these people do love you. And you love them too. You can’t just ignore that.”
Jungkook hums. “I can’t choose.”
“What?”
“I can’t choose one of them without hurting someone else. I can’t.”
“Is that what’s stopping you?”
“Not just that,” Jungkook admits, quietly.
“Right. But it’s one of the main reasons.”
“Yeah.”
“Jungkook. I need you to listen to what I’m about to say very carefully.”
“Okay?”
“You don’t have to choose.”
Jungkook blinks. Slowly, he looks up at Hoseok again. “Excuse me?”
With a grin, Hoseok asks, “Who the fuck said you have to choose?”
Oh.
Oh.