Jeongguk is soundless as he moves through the quiet room. It’s three am and the dorm has that strange stillness about it that only comes in the middle of the night, when the voices and laughter and music have all long since gone to bed.
He should be in bed himself. He knows that, objectively, he should be getting more sleep. But late-night practices have become a bit of a routine, and he likes to double up as much as he can. Sometimes Yoongi hyung will settle in his studio for the night as well, breaking only for a convenience store snack run and throwing a couple packages his way. Sometimes he’ll even convince Jimin to break down the dance with him one more time, just one more time, I promise. But usually it’s just him, pushing past the exhaustion the same way he rolls up his sleeves, methodically and without a second thought.
Tonight wasn’t one of the good nights. No matter what he tried, his limbs just weren’t listening to his directions. He couldn’t concentrate at all, and when he did, the sight of his reflection in the mirror only irritated him more. By the time he collapsed into a chair near the stereo, chest heaving, there was already a dangerous itch growing. Jeongguk recognized the change in himself immediately, that familiar need for something to make him feel the way extra practices are supposed to make him feel--satisfied, grounded, in control.
Or more accurately--Jeongguk’s more than aware of the fact this isn’t his own room--a need for someone.
After avoiding a near fatal collision with a fan and deftly stepping around some unidentified objects on the floor, he finally makes his way to the bed pressed up against the far wall. There’s a big lump of blankets snoring softly when he approaches, and he doesn’t think twice before silently inviting himself in.
Jeongguk’s hot, too hot from the practice room but it’s even warmer underneath the comforter with the other’s body heat pressing in around him at all sides. He’s always hated the sensation of being over-heated, ever since he was a little kid, but somehow this never manages to bother him. Jeongguk simply presses closer to the familiar body, fitting himself in the empty spaces and wrapping an arm around a half-bare shoulder.
Jeongguk barely responds to the sleepy murmur, instead watching the way Taehyung ever so slowly blinks opens those big, dark eyes. He’s still not really awake, and Jeongguk can’t help but chuckle under his breath at the ridiculous yawn that overwhelms the older’s face for a moment. He’d tease him about it, but the itch is just getting stronger now that he’s here.
“It’s late,” Taehyung mumbles, struggling to keep his eyes open as a hand strokes absent-mindedly at the crook of Jeongguk’s neck. Jeongguk’s pulse quickens under his fingertips in a matter of seconds.
Slowly, that languid, dazed look in Taehyung’s eyes falls away into something else at that tone. He watches Jeongguk more closely now, catching the signs post-haze and Jeongguk can practically see the exact moment when it all clicks together inside his head.
Just another kind of synchronized dance, the way they both wordlessly move together underneath the blanket. Taehyung ends up on top, slotting himself between Jeongguk’s legs as the younger grasps at his shoulders, bracing himself for something that hasn’t even come yet. Adrenaline rushes back into his system, and it must be obvious, or contagious, because Taehyung’s grinning down at him and Jeongguk can’t help but give it back.
If Taehyung minds being woken up unexpectedly like this, it doesn’t show. It never shows. He nips at Jeongguk’s shoulder like a puppy, pulling his collar aside and littering his skin in a way that’s a tad too sweet, that makes Jeongguk shift a little too impatiently underneath him. It’s not like what the older boy’s doing doesn’t feel good. He just knows he’s capable of a lot more, and that’s what he wants--Jeongguk’s mind latches onto that fact with a steel grip, already in tunnel vision. To be entirely honest, it’s the one thing that’s really preventing him from getting too worked up right off the bat.
“Not now, hyung,” he interrupts a lingering little bite to his neck, swatting at the over-sized T-shirt hanging in his face. Taehyung obediently pulls away, and even in the dim room Jeongguk can see it written all over his face. That absolute, undivided attention Jeongguk both simultaneously craves and shrinks away from.
“Yeah?” It’s a soft pant and a pointed question. Jeongguk’s fingers twitch in the material of Taehyung’s shirt.
“Just.” The usual sounds comical and stupid. But, well, it’s pretty much true. Lately it seems like it’s all that there’s really time for, cutting to the chase for little pocket moments here and there. Besides, everyone else is home right now, probably asleep, but definitely present. They have a schedule in a couple of hours. This can’t be too drawn out.
“Touch me for real,” Jeongguk finishes after another beat of silence, momentarily distracted by unkempt hair and the shine of Taehyung’s lips. He watches them ease into a smile now, body lowering back down until he’s practically breathing straight into Jeongguk’s ear, mouthing over the sensitive skin.
“I am touching you for real,” Taehyung murmurs in a weird singsong that sounds like it’s probably Hoseok hyung’s fault. Jeongguk considers hitting him in the balls or just straight up staring at him until he gets the hint because now? really?, but all he ends up doing is squirming into the sheets more. Maybe he has a thing for hot breaths against the shell of his ear, or maybe it’s just the way Taehyung does it, like he’s actually getting ready to feast on him.
“You know what I mean.”
It’s hard to sound annoyed when a tongue starts working obscenely at his piercing, licking and tugging at the metal until a low hiss escapes Jeongguk’s teeth. Taehyung hums at the sound, fingers walking down Jeongguk’s side to rest low on his stomach. He slips beneath the thin shirt and pets along the skin there, the fine down that trails even lower beneath Jeongguk’s boxers. Taehyung’s fingers slide against the sweat slick skin and there’s a sensible part of Jeongguk that should find it gross or embarrassing but the truth is that they’ve done this far too many times for him to really care. All he cares about is feeling Taehyung’s hand on him.
“Yeah,” Taehyung finally draws out. “I know.” His voice is still rough-soft with sleep, and it burns Jeongguk from the inside out slowly, so slowly. He can’t remember the last time they’ve kissed. The thought makes the urge to do it stronger, but he knows they’d only get distracted if they started.
They can barely carve out enough time for this, let alone satisfying make out sessions. But it all feels so easy when the older boy presses more words against him.
“I’ll take care of you.”
Somehow, when Taehyung says things like that, it doesn’t sound comical, and it definitely doesn’t sound stupid. It sounds like every wet dream Jeongguk’s had over the past few weeks. It sounds like pure relief, a promise he’ll make good on a dozen times over. Jeongguk hadn’t even realized how hard he already was until Taehyung’s long fingers search him out, giving his cock a few gentle tugs.
Nothing much at all but Jeongguk already feels boneless, melting down into Taehyung’s mattress and the familiar pleasure flooding through his body. He spreads out more, thighs opening, head tipping back, silent encouragement that yes, yes he wants the other to take care of him. Take care of the tension. Take care of anything. Absurd, spirited, warm-hearted Kim Taehyung who also happens to know exactly how Jeongguk likes his handjobs.
Back before they debuted, when Jeongguk hadn’t hit his growth spurt yet and Taehyung had to hide himself from the cameras, any handjob was better than nothing. It was all nervous, uncoordinated, excited experimentation. It didn’t so much matter how skilled it actually was, if they even knew what they were doing--just the doing alone was enough to make them both feel good.
And it always felt good with Taehyung. Right from the beginning he knew that much. Whenever he was lonely or sad or stressed or homesick it was Taehyung who quickly emerged as the one he most wanted to go to.
Sometimes to talk, or to practice, or to play video games, or to bother everyone else with, or to eat. Or, every now and again, to do this.
Jeongguk can hardly remember the first time now. He just knows that it kept on. That Taehyung’s hands and mouth and touch and presence have been such a fixture over the past four years of his life that he’s seldom ever stopped and considered the logistics of fooling around with his best friend, why that might seem questionable.
Taehyung keeps working him at a steady pace, taking care not to rustle the blanket too much. Every intake of breath, every push of fabric against fabric is magnified in the still room, Jeongguk’s hand curling tighter and tighter into the other’s shoulder. Taehyung’s fingers feel like they go on forever, and they’re so warm, and they’re so nice--god how does Jeongguk ever jerk off by himself when there’s this instead?
When Taehyung pulls back without a warning, not even a clue, Jeongguk has some choice words on the tip of his tongue. Definitely broadcast-unfriendly. Taehyung would probably laugh at him if he weren’t currently busy lapping precum off his fingers and licking a stripe up his palm. Jeongguk just stares, jaw slack. It’s worse after that, better, his body jerking at the now slick hand getting back to stroking him, thumbing over his slit.
Jeongguk’s hips futilely buck up into the wet heat, his mind sinking into a complete haze. For a second he can imagine it’s Taehyung’s mouth wrapped around him instead, full lips eager and stretched and taking him so well. Tongue digging at the sensitive spot that makes his toes curl every single time.
Only now it’s blunt nails. Jeongguk snaps his head back against the pillow, choking out a strangled moan that they absolutely cannot afford. Jimin may have earbuds in every night and Hoseok might sleep like death, but they can’t be too careful. Taehyung quickly moves to shush him, nosing over the sharp line of his jaw. He’s mumbling things Jeongguk can’t really make out, but the sound of his soft, deep voice is more than enough to keep him under.
(Shh, it’s okay. Come on. You’re so good, Jeongguk, come on.)
Jeongguk needs this so badly. Release didn’t come earlier tonight and it definitely can’t come fast enough now, even as Taehyung’s hand pumps him harder. He can’t believe how good it feels. How he can feel completely bodiless yet connected with every last nerve ending all at once, how he can feel on fire without even being able to pinpoint the origin.
It’s almost like being on stage performing.
And if he were asked--which would never happen in a million years--maybe even slightly better.
Jeongguk doesn’t realize his grip on the other has been bordering on painful, too focused on biting the inside of his cheek to shut himself up. Suddenly Taehyung’s talking again, and it’s a feat that he’s even able to catch any of it, make sense of the string of syllables.
“Don’t we have to be up in three hours?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk breathes shakily. He sounds completely wrecked, even to his own ears. “Be quiet.”
“You’ll go to sleep, right?” Taehyung ignores him, mouthing against the neck he tended to earlier. “After?” He smoothes a second hand down to cup Jeongguk’s balls before massaging along his inner thigh, stroking at the supple skin. He never stops working his cock.
Jeongguk nods because he doesn’t trust his voice, he doesn’t trust himself at all.
Jeongguk doesn’t know if it’s the whisper of a kiss that does him in or if he’s just pulled so taut his body can’t possibly take any more--but it all falls apart as quickly as it started. That pressure inside implodes into a thousand tiny pieces as he comes hard into Taehyung’s hand, body shuddering uncontrollably. Riding it out. Needing the feeling to last as long as possible. He’s clutching onto Taehyung so tight, too tight, but the other isn’t letting go either--not even when Jeongguk stops keening into his mouth, or when his legs drop back uselessly against the bed, or when the high eases into something soft, heavy inside of him.
It’s weird, and Jeongguk doesn’t think it often, but sometimes, when it’s like this, he imagines them being in his bedroom in Busan.
Not for any particular reason. Not like he even imagines them having sex there--at least not really. It’s just something his mind jumps to, and for some reason it drags Taehyung along like he fits there too. Jeongguk can’t remember the last time he’s been home, even stepped foot in his old bedroom, but somehow this feels like the closest thing. Feels so easy.
Taehyung is the first one to finally move, untangling their bodies so he can fall against Jeongguk’s side instead. His eyes are blown black, and there’s definitely some mess left over from his careless clean up, but other than that he pretty much looks like his usual self. Drowsiness seems to come back full force now, arms wrapping around Jeongguk’s waist like they’re ready to settle in for their precious few hours before the alarm clock.
Jeongguk might have given in immediately if it weren’t for the fact that now he really does feel disgusting. Sweat on top of sweat on top of cum isn’t a good state for him, and he wouldn’t have been able to sleep like that anyways...even with Taehyung being the good kind of warm.
“Shower,” he whispers when Taehyung shoots him an accusatory pout at the way he wriggles out of his embrace. It doesn’t completely appease the older boy but he’s also too lazy to object, curling his body around his pillow like a koala and making that his new maknae instead.
“You promised.” The words are muffled, no real bite. Jeongguk just rolls his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and forcing his tired limbs to move, once again.
He manages to nod off two times under the scalding water before he finally deems it good enough, throwing on a change of clothes and leaving wet foot prints in the hallway. Exhaustion isn’t even applicable at this point, not with his muscles all loose and his body aching for a moment of rest. He stands there for a moment, dripping on the hardwood. He knows he should be in bed. He knows, objectively, it should be his own bed that he wants.
It’s a quarter to four when Jeongguk pads back into the room and pushes the pillow out of Taehyung’s arms so he can reclaim his place. If Taehyung minds damp hair against his blanket or long legs settling like a dead weight against his own, he doesn’t say anything. He just shuffles over to make room. The others might tease them in a couple hours, but the nice thing about shared sleep deprivation is that no place is ever seen as truly off limits. (Jeongguk just happens to be a bit more predictable in the place he chooses.)
So it’s okay. All too soon it’ll be time to face another morning, but for now, tonight, Jeongguk’s good with letting himself relax into Taehyung’s body and go to sleep.
Somehow, it’s just that easy.