Work Text:
When Taehyung shuffles into his sleeping bag, his foot catches on something solid and... surprisingly warm.
“Oh? Who put in heating pads?”
A moment ago, the seven of them were still sitting half-outside in the biting air, haphazardly stacking together their empty soju bottles and paper plates. Then, it was up to a game of up-and-down to divide the sections of the tent among them, and Taehyung would lie if he said he didn't get a little bit of extra help to score his sleeping partner...
Now, away from their campfire, the cold has firmly wrapped around him. His toes are chilly as they reach the end of his cocoon; the sleeping bag polyester sits too light against his skin to feel warm, but he presses the little cushion of heat between his thighs and feels the warmth radiate through him.
Yoongi, who is less than elegantly crawling over Taehyung’s shape in the sleeping bag, murmurs back, “I did.”
A zipper jangles, then some more rustling through their tent.
Taehyung grins into the dark. “For me?”
“For everyone.”
He hears the zip once more and senses Yoongi wrestling the sleeping bag into a comfortable position next to him. He’s less than an arm length away, Taehyung knows. He could reach over and smooth his hand over the crunchy, cold fabric; could prod at Yoongi’s shape underneath just to get a reaction out of him.
It’ll be another minute until his eyes get used to the pitch-black darkness, but Taehyung can picture what Yoongi would look like anyway. He’s probably crouched together, knees drawn up to contain his body heat, and he’s definitely got his face shoved into the sleeping bag up to his nose, just on the edge of breathing in stuffy air.
“But I bet you did mine first,” Taehyung continues to poke.
Yoongi tuts in response. “Did yours last. It’ll stay warmer longer.”
Of course. His hyung, always watching out silently, scheming in secret to provide the gentlest possible care.
Pleased, Taehyung picks up his heating pack and kneads it between his frosty fingers. The warmth bites at them for a moment before his skin gets used to it and begins to tingle.
“My feet are still really cold, though. Feel them, hyung.” He contorts himself to shuffle his leg out of the opening, pointedly ignoring Yoongi's grumbles beside him. “I don’t want to feel your cold paws, Taehyung-ah.”
But by the end of his rejection, Taehyung already has a foot sticking out of his sleeping bag and is wriggling his toes to find the zipper on Yoongi’s.
To his glee, Yoongi laughs. A huffy, tired one, but Taehyung can just make out the grin that accompanies it. It’s his mischievous one, stretching across his face with his eyes squeezed shut. (Taehyung knows this grin from when Yoongi first kissed him, after Taehyung had dragged him by the wrist into a random closet at Namjoon’s party, giggling and trying to hide from a one-night-stand he’d ghosted. Like tonight, Taehyung had been tipsy then, giddy energy coursing through him, and Yoongi had soaked it up and brewed a whirlwind between them. That was a couple of months ago.)
In the darkness, Yoongi grabs a hold of Taehyung’s ankle.
“Taehyung-ah. Behave.” Yoongi tries to go for dark and gravelly, but there’s a smile that weakens it. Still, it curls in Taehyung’s stomach on command.
He’s not exactly one to yield though.
He bends his toes enough to tap them against Yoongi’s wrist and asks, “Hyung, are you sleepy?”
Yoongi squeezes his ankle tightly. His long fingers can wrap all the way around. He says, “We’re in our sleeping bags, aren’t we?”
“Sleeping bags can be used for a lot of things.” Taehyung extracts himself from Yoongi’s hold, but instead of tucking his leg back in, he presses his calf somewhere against the vague shape of Yoongi’s body. “Like robbing around and pretending you’re a caterpillar.”
Yoongi chuckles. “That’s how you were planning to wind down tonight?”
Even in the dark, he must see Taehyung’s glinting smile. He has something else in mind.
As if on cue, there’s Namjoon’s deep voice from the other side of the tent, saying a collective “good night.” He doesn’t even have to raise his voice to be heard on Taehyung and Yoongi’s end; it echoes through to them as if he was beside them. Which - to be fair - is almost true. There’s only a little space and a flimsy polyester wall between them.
Taehyung would have to whisper to stay undetected on their side.
“Hyung,” he confesses quietly, “I’m not tired yet.”
Yoongi has his eyes closed already, he can see it now, but with one wiggle of Taehyung’s foot underneath Yoongi’s sleeping bag, they open again.
“So you’ve decided to be a menace about it?”
Yoongi’s voice is quiet by nature; it’s deep and rumbly and vibrates straight into Taehyung’s bones, enough to make him want to inch closer.
The ‘menace’ talk is usually reserved for his co-conspirators Jeongguk and Jimin, even though Taehyung likes to push his hyungs’ buttons just as much. And yet - and he doesn’t really know how he pulls this off - his friends always treat him softly in return, constantly indulging his shenanigans. (He knows a little bit how he pulls it off. The trick is in the big eyes and slight pout and grabbing someone’s hand to drag them along to whatever he has planned in that moment.)
Jimin says Yoongi has a special sort of weakness for Taehyung; that he somersaults at every opportunity to read a wish from Taehyung’s lips. He exaggerates. Though when Yoongi shovels one piece of meat after the other into Taehyung’s never-emptying bowl, or when Yoongi picks up a new set of brushes for him, unasked, simply because he walked past a craft store, then it’s almost easy to believe Jimin’s words.
By now, the heating pad burns against Taehyung’s wrist, so he sticks an arm out of his cocoon and lets the night air prickle against his skin. Yoongi’s eyes follow his movement and Taehyung, catching him out on it, looks right back at him. Yoongi’s handsome, dark eyes that appear smaller when he’s tired, the artful bow of his upper lip as it peaks over the opening of his sleeping bag.
“Hyung,” Taehyung whispers, “are you cold?”
Under the sleeping bag, Yoongi is wearing a light sweater and his jogging pants.
“Getting used to it. Why, you know a cure against the cold?” He’s still caressing Taehyung’s arm with his gaze.
Taehyung nods, rustling the fabric underneath him. “It’s called cuddling,” he says proudly.
Yoongi huffs a laugh, even though he must have known where this menace was headed. “Taehyung-ah...”
Taehyung is well aware that he is pushing at the line – a line that they haven’t fully drawn yet. In fact, he might be testing out the line with the hope that there isn’t one.
They haven’t exactly talked about… them.
The kiss had been spontaneous, a wild in-the-moment kind of idea that sizzled across his lips. But it wasn’t strictly out of nowhere, either. He had always found Yoongi so pretty, so much that it pulled him towards his hyung constantly, one hand to reach out, an arm to sling over his smaller frame. And Yoongi was so cute and delectable too. Taehyung liked men like this, men he could nibble on and play with, that he could wrap his limbs around and squeeze some love out of. And Yoongi had a lot of it to give, no matter how nonchalant he tried to be about it.
They had sex once before. A charged and giddy night after they’d all been together singing at a noraebang with mixed levels of earnestness and Taehyung’s stomach hurting from laughing at Yoongi screaming and croaking out songs as if he didn’t actually have a beautiful singing voice.
They shared a subway line home, and then Taehyung had looked into Yoongi’s eyes, sitting there with his side pressed against the other man’s, and had let his subway stop pass. He only said, “oops”, and Yoongi had grinned and taken him home.
It was a little dance at first – Yoongi cooking drunk food, Taehyung pretending he wasn’t hungry for something else entirely, idle chat and gentle teasings. Finally: the couch, their bodies inching closer and closer, Yoongi’s soft mouth, his tongue. It was a rush in itself, how he had slid his hand underneath Yoongi’s shirt, caressed his skin and searched for more. They rid themselves of their clothes and Yoongi talked him through how to touch him, how to open him up for Taehyung to sink into him. It was sweet and needy, and when it was over, they didn’t really work out what it meant.
“Sorry,” Taehyung says now, back in their tent, not entirely apologetic. “Too much?”
“It’s fine.” Yoongi murmurs back.
If it’s fine, then Taehyung will take his word for it. He stretches his fingertips out to breach the last few centimeters until he reaches the zipper of Yoongi’s sleeping bag. He plays with it, lets it jingle between his fingers – until a large hand engulfs his.
To stop him, Taehyung thinks at first. But then Yoongi’s hand pushes down, dragging Taehyung’s along with it and opening the zip in the process.
“You want to cuddle?” Yoongi asks, quiet and rough into their small space.
Taehyung nods and breathes back, “Yes.”
“Yeah? Okay then.”
Something clenches hot inside Taehyung, his stomach twisting with the permission. He draws his hand out from under Yoongi’s to hurry at his own zipper and opens it enough to wiggle himself free.
He catches Yoongi’s smirk in the dark, indulgent and teasing like he knows this is what Taehyung has wanted since they got picked to share the tent.
There’s a flash of cold air on Taehyung’s skin as he hovers above Yoongi for a moment, but then he sinks down against him and the warmth returns. He shuffles the first leg into the tight space of Yoongi’s sleeping bag, then the other one, sliding in somewhere between the polyester and Yoongi’s own legs.
“Careful with your knees.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
He’s taller than Yoongi, lankier too since his hyung started working out more regularly, but his boney knees find a rest against the soft parts of Yoongi’s thigh, avoiding any collision with sensitive areas. He stretches his toes to tickle at the underside of Yoongi’s feet.
With a flinch, Yoongi scolds him again. “Aish, be good.”
Taehyung laughs, so tempted to do it again.
He slots his body right there next to Yoongi’s like two magnets, a charge between every inch of them that touches, clothed or not. The knob of Yoongi’s pelvis pokes into the very top of Taehyung’s thigh, his chest is pressed against Yoongi’s side, soaking up the warmth he’s saved inside his cocoon. For another gracious minute, he doesn’t think about how close other… parts are. Instead, he curves his torso just enough to fit his head into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.
He inhales. Exhales softly against Yoongi’s skin, inhales again.
Yoongi smells good, always. He smells nice when they meet up after work, when Yoongi returns from his woodshop with specks of wooden dust still clinging to him. He smells nice when he makes an effort for going out, special yet familiar with the never changing Dior perfume he splurged on once. And he smelled glorious when they fucked, full of heat and lust as he clung to Taehyung.
Yoongi smells good now too. Safe and pleasant and like the cold from outside. The campfire they set up to grill and keep warm has snuck into his hair follicles and clothing fibers and Taehyung digs his nose into the nape of his neck to smell the bitter smoke on him.
Underneath him, Yoongi’s chest rumbles.
“You comfy there?”
Taehyung hums a satisfied yes – but… he whispers another confession: “You know… Cuddling wasn’t the only thing I had in mind.”
A little puff of air against Taehyung’s cheek indicates Yoongi’s silent laugh. Then, there’s a hand in his hair, fingers touching right down to his scalp. The brief contact alone has him exhale a shivering breath and press closer to Yoongi for more. It’s too easy for the hand he has slung around Yoongi’s torso to grasp him a little tighter, to slip to the small edge of skin where his sweater ends.
“I figured.”
Taehyung’s lips stretch into a grin, all bright and boxy. He lifts his head, knocking Yoongi’s fingers to scratch his scalp some more. “Is that a yes?”
“Are you serious? The others are just there. They’d hear.” Yoongi says it in his low tone, but even that rings in Taehyung’s ears loud enough that his friends must hear it across the tent.
“So? We just have to keep quiet.”
Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to grin again. “You think you can keep quiet, yeah?”
Taehyung wants to boast yes, of course, except just then: Yoongi lifts his hip and nudges it right against Taehyung’s center. His voice dies in his throat; instead, what comes out is the sound of a sharp inhale.
He whines back at his hyung, “That’s not fair.”
“Proves my point.”
One of Yoongi’s fingers curls around a strand of hair, gives it a little pull. It’s almost enough to have Taehyung whine a second time. “I’m just saying, the others..,” he laughs quietly. “They’re never gonna let us have the end of it if they overhear us fucking.”
And that sentence alone takes hold of Taehyung’s imagination. He hears the phantom sounds: the rushed rustle of their sleeping bags as he’d press his body against Yoongi’s, their wet kisses, how he’d be panting into Yoongi’s mouth, the strangled moan his hyung made last time he came.
His hand travels again, along the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats. “So we’ll pretend it’s just us.” He nudges his nose against the line of Yoongi’s jaw and lets his lips follow with a soft touch. “I think I can make you forget about the rest.”
Yoongi stiffens underneath him for a second, then melts all at once. “And what about the noise?” He doesn’t even sound like he’s argueing anymore. His voice is gentle, and his fingertips dip from Taehyung’s hair down along his neck and into the neckline of his sleepshirt.
“You know a way to shut me up, right?”
Yoongi does. The tips of his fingers push into the back of Taehyung’s neck, pulling him closer and angling him just right for his lips to find Yoongi’s.
Yoongi barely gives him a chance to stay quiet. His mouth moves sudden and greedy against Taehyung’s as if he’s trying to show him up. A surprised hum escapes Taehyung before he can stop it.
Eager now, Taehyung shuffles to move in between Yoongi’s legs. Yoongi’s kisses never sate, they only ever make him hungrier. He lies on top of him, their chests pressed together, their hips, their--
Taehyung grinds down to feel him, and once again his own moan rings through his ears. They’re both still in their sweats, but it doesn’t matter, the spark is already flittering through him. He pushes down again, feeling out the shape of Yoongi’s cock against his own through the layers of fabric.
A muted laugh interrupts their kiss. “I don’t think you’re even trying to stay quiet, Taehyung-ah.”
“I am too!” Taehyung protests in a whisper, lips chasing after Yoongi’s again. “You don’t remember how loud I was last time? I’m being good, hyung.”
Yoongi hums into his mouth. “Yeah, I remember. Stay good,” he adds like a warning and slides his hand further down toward Taehyung’s ass to guide him into another grind.
Taehyung’s already hard. With every grind, his dick rubs tight against his clothes, ghosting somewhere near Yoongi’s cock too. He feels flushed in the warm sleepwear that was intended for a cold night outside. Instead, his skin is hot and prickly all over now, and he’s aching for more.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, across the tent, he hears another shuffle of fabric - maybe one of his friends rolling into a comfortable position or huddling for warmth in a more honest way than Taehyung tried. It spikes his attention and pulls him back, drawing his focus to every tiny noise between his tingling body and Yoongi’s inviting one.
In the dark, each of their movements is amplified, every rustle of their sleeping bags echoes through their small space. Even his own breath sounds labored already, after only a couple horny humps. He hears his heart thumping in his chest.
For a moment, he stills on top of Yoongi, letting the noises around them die.
He waits for a few heartbeats, and with another kiss – a quiet thing, only his tongue teasing at Yoongi’s soft pout – Taehyung dives in for more. He curls his hand around the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats, trails his fingers through the path of sparse hair below Yoongi’s stomach, and wraps them around his half-hard dick.
It’s a sight to behold: how Yoongi bends his neck back with the slightest motion as if the sudden contact takes him by surprise, how he closes his eyes and squeezes his lips shut to stop a sound from escaping.
His reaction spurs Taehyung on. He jerks Yoongi dry a few times, feeling him grow hard under his touch, and dips down to kiss him again. Yoongi’s mouth only opens reluctantly, because when it does, a soft sigh of a moan slips out.
“Hyung,” Taehyung whispers gleefully against his lips. He’s already so high on Yoongi’s tiny noises, forbidden as they are. “Are you even trying?”
“Fuck off,” Yoongi laughs, though not without a greedy lift of his hips into Taehyung’s grip. “Here. C’mere.”
It’s a bit of a shuffle, the way Yoongi pulls at Taehyung’s hand and cups it in his own. He waits for a beat, and spits into Taehyung’s palm. “Go on,” he says, “I’ll just-,” As quietly as possible, Yoongi peels off the top half of the sleeping bag, avoiding at least some of the noises it makes every time Taehyung eagerly moves against him.
The night air immediately hits Taehyung everywhere that isn’t pressed against Yoongi. He shivers, partly from the chill, partly from the view underneath him: Yoongi folding his sweatpants down to free his cock, hard and flushed that it makes Taehyung’s mouth water.
“C’mon.” Yoongi smirks up at him, “’m cold.”
“But you’re sooo hot, hyung,” Taehyung whispers with a teasing lilt, leaning down to brush against Yoongi’s lips as he wraps his hand back around Yoongi’s dick.
Yoongi hums for a moment, until he seems to catch himself. “Right, no more talking from you.” His fingers land at Taehyung’s nape again and he closes the distance between their mouths to mute them.
And even though Taehyung knows they’re meant to be quiet, to let no sound escape between them, he can’t help but chase them. Yoongi is too lovely. The sounds that bubble out of him despite themselves and that Taehyung catches between his own lips, they’re too precious.
He gets an unwilling nng out of him as he fists down the length of his cock with a tight grip, a little puff of air every time Yoongi lets his hips follow Taehyung’s upward stroke. It hits Taehyung’s skin and bounces noisily around their tent walls, amplified to his attuned ears.
This slide of skin on skin, Taehyung’s spit-wet fingers squeezing and moving up and down Yoongi’s dick, following the raised veins down to the hilt and up again, it’s so loud between them.
Taehyung quickly becomes obsessed with each hitch of Yoongi’s breath, the way it signals something kept at bay like he’s straining to hold it in. He wants to hear every version of that tiny stumble of air, how Yoongi seems to swallow it when Taehyung accelerates his movement, or how it’s followed by a rushed, desperate exhale as he rubs over the glistening head of his cock.
He eats up every noise that betrays Yoongi’s composure, still eager to push him further. He nuzzles against the side of Yoongi’s neck, leaving kisses there, sucking gently at the blushing skin, and he feels it work: feels Yoongi swallow heavily underneath him, a breathy sigh at his ear, and then there’s Yoongi’s hand wrapping around Taehyung’s biceps and gripping him tightly.
Taehyung wishes he were naked. How Yoongi would be able to cling to him, to dig his fingernails into the flesh of his arm, if only he were naked.
A strained whisper; “Close. Fuck.”
Taehyung hums back at him. There’s so much he wants to say, like go ahead, come for me, show me how I make you come, and metoometoo, so close just from getting you off, and finally, quietly, I like you I like you I like you so much. In the end, he hums, and kisses him again – just as Yoongi comes apart underneath him.
Yoongi tenses, then shivers through his orgasm, spills warm into Taehyung’s hand, gasps. He looks just as pretty as Taehyung remembers, soft and overwhelmed.
He’s breathing heavily, and licks his lips before he says, “Fuck. That was stupid hot.” Taehyung couldn’t agree more – he’s still so hard and having Yoongi like this only makes him needier and needier.
Yoongi still has a grip on Taehyung’s biceps, sliding down to his forearm now, and slipping two fingers into his sleeve to slide up his wrist.
Taehyung hasn’t yet gotten to relieve the electricity coursing through him. He’s burning up under Yoongi’s warmth, his simple touch. He wants those hands everywhere else, too.
“D’you think they heard, hyung?” Taehyung asks, buzzing, buzzing, buzzing. “If they already know, maybe I can go all out now, huh?” He’s already shifting against Yoongi again, desperate for any kind of pressure.
“Don’t you dare.” Yoongi chuckles quietly, his face gentle. His cheeks are pink, visible even in the darkness, and he’s licking his lips, pursing them. “What do you want, hm?”
Taehyung brings his lips to Yoongi’s once more. He sighs. What doesn’t he want; there’s too many options. Touch me. Suck me off. Get your fingers inside of me.
“I want – hmm.” Yoongi’s tongue teases against his, making it harder to know, making it harder not to combust right then and there, really. “Wanna- wanna fuck your thighs, hyung.”
“Yeah?," Yoongi huffs. "We can do that.” His fingers are crawling further up Taehyung’s skin. “I didn’t exactly bring lube or anything though.”
Taehyung shoots a look at his hand, wet with cum and still half-wrapped around Yoongi’s soft cock. That’ll do. He sticks his hand inside his sweats and strokes himself, shivering under the shoddy relief it's giving him.
“You think I should wake Jimin and ask for his lotion? I don’t think he’d mind,” Taehyung teases.
Yoongi grins back up at him, all gums and sparkly eyes. “Shut it,” he whispers. He maneuvers his legs out from underneath Taehyung, plants his feet on the rustly tent floor and shuffles down his pants further. “This good?” he asks.
It’s almost a stupid question. This good? As if he doesn’t know what he looks like doing that, naked and presenting himself to Taehyung who stutters in his movements and swallows harshly.
He loves Yoongi’s thighs. They’re soft and giving; loves that he can dig his fingers into them and leave pink marks with the pads of his thumbs. He brings one hand to the underside of Yoongi’s leg, squeezes, pushes it up to make room for himself.
This is how they fucked last time, too. Yoongi on his back, grasping for Taehyung’s neck, arms, back as he drove into him, spilling all the noises into Taehyung’s mouth that are forbidden now.
“’s good,” Taehyung says, ridding himself of his sweatpants as much as he can in this position. He scoots closer, grinds because he can’t help himself, grazing his cock against Yoongi’s and stifling a moan. “Just, just, can you take my shirt off too?”
He loves Yoongi’s thighs, but he loves his hands too. They’re as beautiful as they are generous, Taehyung has learned. They’re helping him slip out of his sleep shirt now, and then they’re roaming across his chest. Yoongi’s hands are large, a little bit knobbly and a little bit rough. The woodworking has left its share of nicks and scars on his fingers, and Taehyung feels those rough edges now as Yoongi slides them gently over his ribs, his pecs, over his nipples.
“Hyung,” he breathes.
“Come on.” Yoongi brushes over Taehyung’s nipples again. “You wanna fuck me, right?”
Taehyung is biting his lips now, forcing his mouth shut as he grinds against Yoongi’s spent cock another time.
“Fuck, okay, here.” Taehyung gets his hands on Yoongi’s thighs and pushes them close together. He hooks his legs over his shoulder, braces himself for a moment. Then he fucks into the tight fold they create, just grazing Yoongi’s dick with his thrust.
Taehyung barely remembers not to moan out loud. He catches it in the last moment, turns it into a pretty pathetic whimper as he fucks into the soft thighs that envelop his cock. It’s so good, so good. Dry – but there’s a mixture of sweat, cum, and saliva between them that makes it just right. For good measure, Taehyung spits down at his cock to give himself an easier slide.
Underneath him, Yoongi lets out a sigh. A strained one, just like the whisper that follows. “Just remembered I can’t shower until tomorrow night, thanks.”
“Hmm,” Taehyung hums, grinning. “You want me to stop?” He slows his thrusts just to tease, but Yoongi shakes his head almost immediately.
“Want you to come on me, Taehyung-ah.”
It’s what does him in, that demand, deep and gravelly out of Yoongi’s pink-kissed mouth. Taehyung’s moan adds to the noises of skin on skin, clothes on polyester, heavy breaths in night air.
Would his friends hear? How he’s getting off sinking his cock in between his hyung’s plush thighs? Would they know the sighs and rustles, the wet slide?
“Hyung,” he moans again, barely contained now.
“Shh,” Yoongi laughs silently, clearly and unfairly amused at what he’s able to do to Taehyung. “Quiet, remember?”
Taehyung hums again, chasing another spark down his spine with another grind into Yoongi’s thighs. “Make me quiet, hyung.”
Like before, Yoongi leans up, an uncoordinated maneuver to angle for a kiss. But this time, Taehyung has a different idea.
“No, no, like-“ He grabs the palm of Yoongi’s hand and folds it around his mouth. He catches Yoongi’s eyes, bouncing around Taehyung’s face, landing on where his hand is pressed tightly over Taehyung’s lips.
“Yeah?” he sighs.
With his eyes closed, Taehyung nods. He grunts into the next grind, breathes hot against Yoongi’s palm.
“Shh,” Yoongi makes again. He adjusts his grip on Taehyung’s cheeks, digging just a smidge tighter into the bone of his jaw to muffle his moans.
He’s close, really fucking close. He fucks into Yoongi’s soft folds, imagines himself sinking into Yoongi’s hole again, maybe next time, maybe more and more and more. He feels Yoongi’s fingers sharp over his mouth, how his own muffled groan sounds too loud and too near as it reverberates back through his skull. And when he opens his eyes again, he finds Yoongi staring at him with a fire that spurs him on further.
It’s in his gut already, that trickle of pleasure, it spreads through his legs until it’s in his toes, sparks back up his spine until he jerks forward, spreading Yoongi’s legs as he collapses on top of him. He moans into Yoongi’s palm one last time and comes in streaks onto his stomach.
Yoongi waits for a moment to let Taehyung catch his breath before he removes his hand. Taehyung’s heart beats rapidly in his chest, so fast everyone must hear it across the campground. His skin is tingly and sweaty and oddly icy-hot, sticking to Yoongi’s everywhere they touch.
“You good?” Yoongi asks, stroking his thumb across Taehyung’s cheekbone, gentle now. He’s warm in his eyes and warm as Taehyung wraps his limbs around him again, just like they had started the night.
“Hmm. So good,” Taehyung says, barely remembering to whisper.
“Yeah,” Yoongi chuckles, “that really did it for me.”
Taehyung rubs his nose against Yoongi’s cheek, his neck, watches him cup his dick, already hard again.
“You wanna go for round two? I can suck you off if you want.”
Yoongi huffs, curls his arm around Taehyung’s torso and holds him close. He fishes for the discarded top of the sleeping bag and lets it fall back around them. “Nah. We probably shouldn’t push our luck,” he says.
Probably. Taehyung will ask him to go somewhere private next time, like his apartment, where he can draw all the moans from Yoongi that he likes to hear. Or maybe somewhere really loud if he feels like another adventure.
“Yeah, you’re right.” Still, his hand follows Yoongi’s and settles over Yoongi’s cock. His hyung catches his fingers immediately, though.
“Go to sleep, Taehyung-ah.” His voice is calm, and there’s a smile in it.
Sated and giddy and so, so satisfied, Taehyung giggles into the crook of Yoongi’s neck.
“Hyung, you know,” he runs his hand back up Yoongi’s chest, huddles close to him. “When we were playing the up-and-down game to decide rooms… I asked my angels to tell me what you would pick so I could share the tent with you.”
“Hm.” Yoongi’s eyes are closed now. His chest rises and falls slowly under Taehyung’s touch. “I’m glad they told you,” he says.
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