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“Maybe he’d like a new pair of headphones.”
“Maybe.”
“No, that’s stupid, he has tons already, he’s a music producer.” Taehyung, sprawled on the couch of his flat, glares at Jungkook. “Why would you support my stupid gift choices?”
Jungkook, sitting cross-legged on the floor, face half-buried in his phone, shrugs. “Isn’t that my job as your friend?”
“Being useful is your job.”
“You should have asked Jimin then, that’s his thing.”
“You’re right. Get out of my house.”
“Not until you order me chicken like you promised you would.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling through the feed of gift ideas on his phone. Yoongi’s birthday is in just a few days and he still hasn’t found a single thing that would work.
“It’s his first birthday with me,” he mutters. “I want to make it good.”
“You could give him shit wrapped in nice paper and he’d like it since it’s from you.” Jungkook hums appreciatively at whatever’s on his screen, then adds, “Fucking guy is so pathetic with you.”
Taehyung reaches for Jungkook’s ear and flicks it hard. “Don’t be mean.”
“He is, though,” Jungkook whines, massaging his ear. “Not even Namjoon-hyung was that much of a carpet when we first started dating.”
Taehyung decides to ignore that.
Instead, he focuses back on the list of ideas; maybe a set of fancy body soaps… but Yoongi is so particular with the scents he likes, so he scraps that. A new cologne? The one Yoongi uses is running out. But wouldn’t that be too obvious? Almost lazy. Taehyung keeps scrolling: a tie sounds like the kind of gift you buy for your boss, and Yoongi doesn’t wear jewelry, so that won’t do either. And no books, Taehyung promised himself he’d only start gifting books to people if they specifically asked him for them. A vacation sounds nice… maybe a weekend away in Jeju. But that would force Taehyung to skip the weekend run of the show, and he’d rather not do that. Candles are a stupid gift, clothes are too risky, shoes even more so—
“I give up.” Taehyung drops his phone. “My gift for him will be a blowjob.”
“Feel like that’s more of a gift for yourself,” Jungkook mutters, still fully focused on his phone.
Taehyung leans forward with a frown. “Are you watching porn or something?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Then what the hell is it that is clearly so much more important than my distress?”
Jungkook perks up, eyes bright. “Actually, your help would be great right now.”
Taehyung groans. “But you came over to help me.”
“Details.” Jungkook climbs on the couch and sits next to Taehyung, showing him his phone. “I need your help in choosing one.”
Taehyung stares at the photos on the screen: it’s a set of lingerie.
Unimpressed, he looks at Jungkook. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I can’t pick one,” Jungkook whines. “This one is so pretty, but the black one!” He swipes his thumb and shows Taehyung a different set. “This one’s just so pretty too.”
Taehyung sighs. Both sets are beautiful: the black one is a two-piece set, with a corset top, and panties with thin stripes at the sides. The other one is a more romantic style, all lace, and a triangle bra, silky in texture and of a lovely peachy color.
“Where the hell are you gonna fit your dick?”
“These are designed for male bodies, actually. So it fits.” Jungkook grins. “I like wearing the ones designed for girls too, though. It’s fun when it doesn’t fit.”
Taehyung glances at him. “Yeah?”
Jungkook’s expression drops. “You never wore lingerie?”
Taehyung shrugs.
“That’s—” Jungkook stares at him. “Why not?”
“I just never thought about it.”
“I genuinely pictured you as someone who’d wear lingerie.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“That you’d look good in it,” Jungkook replies easily as he taps on the website’s home button. Once it loads, Jungkook’s screen is filled with rows upon rows of lingerie sets: all kinds of styles and colors, from casual loungewear to much more provocative designs. “I mean, I feel like everyone looks good in lingerie in general. But you’d definitely suit something like this.”
Jungkook taps on one of the pictures and gives Taehyung the phone. Looking at it, Taehyung feels his cheeks warm up. The set is in a more romantic style, all lace and pale blue silk. A plunging bralette decorated with delicate lace flowers covers the model’s upper ribs, and the panties are nearly see-through with how thin the lace is there, the strings reaching up to the curve of the waist. But what catches Taehyung’s attention the most is the garter belt, decorated to match the bralette, the silk straps connecting to the pretty garters that hug snugly the model’s toned thighs.
It’s objectively a beautiful garment, but Taehyung can’t lie to himself: the thought of wearing it is becoming more and more prominent.
Then, Jungkook says, “Bet Yoongi would lose it if you wore this.”
Taehyung glances at him. “He never mentioned being into this, though.”
“I refuse to believe that there are people who don’t foam at the mouth when they see their partner in pretty lingerie.” Jungkook takes the phone back. “And I don’t just mean for sex. In general, aesthetically, it’s pretty to look at.”
Taehyung can’t disagree with that.
Jungkook snorts. “Hell, Yoongi would look hot in something like—”
“Do not fantasize about my boyfriend in lingerie.”
“I fantasize about everything.”
“Kill that thought.”
Jungkook grins and looks at him. “Would you try wearing something like this?”
“Maybe,” Taehyung admits.
“I’ll send you the link. This brand has so many styles in all sizes, it’s my favorite.”
“You should get the black one.”
“I should.” Jungkook smiles to himself, then says, “It’s not like I’m paying for it anyway.”
“You’ll empty Namjoon’s bank account with the way you spend his money.”
“He won’t mind.” Jungkook shrugs. “He owes me a fortune anyway, with the way I paid him for months to fuck me.”
Taehyung snorts, and Jungkook adds the black set to his cart.
“Just tell me what you want for your birthday.”
“I don’t want anything.”
“You’re killing me.”
They’re in Taehyung’s flat, and it’s been a lazy night. Originally, they had planned to go out for food and then a movie, but with the way it’s been storming all day, they both ended up sprawled on Taehyung’s bed, a movie that neither of them is paying attention to playing on the laptop.
Eventually, the movie becomes a nice background noise as they waste the evening under the blankets, Yoongi happily settled with his back against Taehyung’s chest as he goes through some work emails.
Taehyung loves these kinds of nights the most. There’s something about the domesticity that pulls at his more romantic heartstrings, so he’s more than glad to act as a pillow, with Yoongi warm and relaxed in his arms.
That being said, this birthday situation is stressing him out.
“Just ask for something,” he whines as he combs his fingers through Yoongi’s hair. “Anything.”
“The death of capitalism.”
“Something I can give you, hyung.”
Yoongi laughs under his breath, that quiet laughter of his, almost soundless. Taehyung, who’s well aware he’s been dating this man for a while now, still nearly swoons when he gets to hear him laugh like that.
“I never really cared about my birthday,” Yoongi says then, while typing a quick reply to an email Taehyung can’t read from where he’s sitting, Yoongi’s head covering the screen. “Namjoon’s the one who always forced me to do something for it, and I forbade him from ever giving me gifts.”
“Did it work?”
“No, he keeps buying me shit I don’t need.”
“But I want to get you something.”
Yoongi lets out a sigh. “Anything?”
“Anything.”
“I wouldn’t mind a new tea set.”
Taehyung frowns. “A tea set.”
“Fancy tea set. Y’know, those—” He gestures for a moment with his hand. “Those glass tea sets.”
That should be easy enough. “I can do that.”
“Mmh, thank you.”
Satisfied, Taehyung grabs his phone and starts looking for the gift. He finds a good option soon enough, the set is elegant and modern, and since they also have a coffee set for french-pressed brewing, he gets that one too, with matching cups. Then, not happy enough, Taehyung also orders a box of blooming tea, thinking that the tea-flower opening in the glass kettle would look quite pretty. Once he orders everything, he finally relaxes.
That’s when a text notification pops up.
Taehyung opens Jungkook’s chat and reads the message: Sorry I forgot about the link, here. Have fun wink face wink face lol
Oh, right.
After debating for a moment, Taehyung opens the link. It sends him straight to the lingerie set Jungkook showed him and seeing it again sends a slow wave of heat across his chest.
It’s just as pretty as he remembered it. Prettier, maybe. He tries imagining himself wearing it and it’s not easy; he’s always had a hard time picturing himself, and feels like in his mind he always looks different. But he’d—probably suit it, just like Jungkook says. That the garter belt would make his waist look smaller, and his hips softer. The garters themselves would look nice on his legs. And the bralette too, would probably feel good to wear it. To feel the silk and lace on his nipples.
He swallows.
“Yoongi-hyung?”
“Mmh?”
“Do you—” He clears his voice. Stares some more at the photo on his screen. “Do you like lingerie?”
“Sure,” Yoongi replies easily as he opens another email. “Looks good.”
“Mh.”
“I wore lingerie a few times.”
Taehyung nearly drops his phone. “You have?”
Yoongi shrugs. “Some of my subs asked if I could wear it. Though it was very—how do I say it? Well, it was very obviously lingerie for BDSM.” He reads the email and starts typing out a reply. “I also had subs who liked wearing it.”
Taehyung very pointedly does not picture Yoongi wearing a harness, lingerie, leather, or anything of the sort, because if he were he might just have an aneurysm. He asks, “Did you like wearing it?”
Again, Yoongi shrugs. “I didn’t mind it. It suited the scenes we were doing.”
“And did you like it when your subs wore it?”
“Of course,” Yoongi chuckles. “What’s not to like?”
Fuck it then.
Taehyung takes a deep breath and moves the phone so Yoongi can see the screen too. “Would you like to see me in something like this?”
Yoongi doesn’t react. For a good handful of seconds, he just stares at Taehyung’s phone without saying anything. It doesn’t hit him immediately, but then Taehyung notices that Yoongi’s holding his breath and that—well. That’s always a good sign.
Yoongi then locks his phone and drops it somewhere next to him. He asks, “Do you want to wear it?”
Taehyung ignores the rush of shyness. He should be past it, but sometimes he can’t help it. “I think I do,” he answers quietly.
Yoongi nods. “Is this the style you like?”
“I like that set.” Taehyung licks his lips. His mouth feels like a fucking desert. “Do—do you like it?”
“I’d like you even if you wore a sack of flour, I don’t count.”
Taehyung snorts. “Okay, but would you like it? If I wore something like this?”
Finally, Yoongi straightens up to turn around and look at him. There’s something in the sharpness of his eyes that tells Taehyung the answer even before he says, “Yes.”
Taehyung nods, looking away. He puts the phone away. “Okay.”
“And—” Yoongi settles on his knees between Taehyung’s thighs. His hands stroke up his legs, to rest over his hip bones, thumbs digging in. Taehyung’s breath hitches. “If you want to wear lingerie, I want to buy it for you.”
Taehyung swallows. “You don’t have to.”
“I want to.”
This gets Taehyung to actually look at Yoongi and he squints his eyes. “Are you—you’re into it, aren’t you?”
Yoongi tries suppressing a smirk and fails miserably. Taehyung rolls his eyes, even though he spreads his legs. Just a little. “Maybe.”
“Didn’t know spending money on lingerie got you off.”
“Choosing the lingerie you’ll wear gets me off.”
Oh.
Taehyung likes that. Maybe a bit too much, since his cock just twitched in his sweatpants. He’d be embarrassed about it if he wasn’t already getting turned on by the idea. “Yeah?”
Yoongi hums and now the pressure of his thumbs is heavier, closer to his navel. “I’d like to choose, and I’d like to tell you when to wear it, too.”
Taehyung sighs and feels himself sink a bit more heavily against the pillows. It’s not just that he likes the idea of Yoongi having control over this, it’s also—relieving. As much as he wants to wear lingerie, the idea is so new it leaves him nervous. He knows that, if left to his own devices, Taehyung wouldn’t find the courage to buy a set, let alone wear it.
Yoongi looks at him for a few moments, then smiles. His voice is soft when he asks, “Would you like that?”
Taehyung nods. “Yes, please.”
“Please?” Yoongi’s eyebrows raise and he grins like he’s teasing him. One hand moves to cup him over the soft cotton. Taehyung’s hips jerk, and he can’t quite keep the gasp to himself. Yoongi says, “Guess I’m not the only one getting off this.”
“Shut up,” Taehyung snorts and reaches for Yoongi’s shirt, pulling him in. “Fine, I like it. Do what you want.”
“I’ll make sure to pick something you’ll like.” Yoongi lets himself be dragged down, pressing a kiss to his mouth, lips dry and warm. Taehyung wraps his arms around his neck, keeping him close. “You’ll look pretty in it.”
“Thought you’d like me in a sack of flour.”
“I think I’ll like this one better,” Yoongi whispers as he ducks down, mouth pressing hotly over his throat. Taehyung swallows when he feels Yoongi’s tongue licking a hot, long strip up to his jawline. “You’re hard.”
Taehyung grinds up into Yoongi’s palm. “Who’s fault is that?”
“My bad.” Yoongi’s teeth nip at the same spot he just licked, the scrape light and teasing. Then, his hand dips under Taehyung’s waistband, to rub at Taehyung’s cock over the thin fabric of his briefs. “Guess I won’t tell you what I’m thinking about.”
Taehyung sighs, eyes falling closed. Yoongi’s mouth is so hot now as he sucks under his jaw, tongue wet when he licks. And his touch is frustrating, good but not enough with the cotton still in the way. “Tell—me.”
Yoongi’s mouth trails down, to his collarbones, lips slick and teeth sharp. “‘m thinking about how good you’ll look in silk and lace.” He goes lower, one hand massaging his cock, the other pulling his shirt up. Taehyung sucks in a breath and Yoongi’s mouth presses wetly over his stomach. “And all tied up.”
Taehyung moans, quiet, feeling hot all over. He arches as Yoongi’s mouth goes lower, chasing it. When Yoongi pulls his pants down to lick over the outline of his cock, he gasps, hips jerking.
“Thinking of how good you’ll look when I fuck you, wearing the things I chose,” Yoongi murmurs and he’s leaning back, pulling Taehyung’s briefs down. He’s flushed, his mouth shiny. Taehyung watches as Yoongi kisses at the juncture of his hip and thigh, then at the base of his cock. “How lewd your cock will look, hard and straining against the panties.”
Taehyung whines. He’s thinking about it too, now—about how it will fit, how it will look, how the silk will feel when he gets hard. When Yoongi’s mouth wraps around his cockhead, he hears himself moan and feels his own hands reach for his chest, to grope at his heated skin.
“Should buy a mirror,” Yoongi says, voice rougher now, and he mouths at his length, sucks at the tip. “Gonna make you watch as I fuck you while you wear the silk and leather I chose.”
Taehyung’s breath is cut short. He can imagine it—he wants it. “Yeah,” he moans, and Yoongi’s mouth is wrapped around him now, swallowing him down, hot, wet— “Fuck, Yoongi, yes.”
Yoongi moans around his length, hands gripping Taehyung’s thighs to spread them apart, and sucks around him, and Taehyung melts.
✦•······················•✦•······················•✦
Yoongi wasn’t surprised when, this morning, Namjoon burst into his studio and said, “Happy birthday and all that, you’re going out tonight. I took care of everything, so just show up on time at the address I’ll send you. Also, I invited people. Okay, bye.”
He’s also not surprised when his brother forces him to go have lunch at one of his restaurants and cooks way too much fancy food for him. Still, it’s good to see him again and catch up. They’re both busy all the time, and finding time for each other has been gradually becoming harder: they both lead different lives, and both have their own partners. Though he would like it if he met Taehyung.
So now that he’s at home, he has to rush to get ready for the night. Thankfully, Namjoon’s birthday plans don’t involve dinner but only drinks later in the night at a wine bar not too far from Yoongi’s place.
Taehyung calls him just as he’s done showering.
“Happy birthday!”
Yoongi smiles. “You’ve sent me ten texts about it already.”
“And now I told you! And I’ll tell you again when we meet.”
“Want me to come get you?”
“I’ll be going with Jimin, actually.”
Of course, Namjoon invited Jimin too. It’s fine, it’s good even, Yoongi likes Jimin. He does have a feeling that Jimin still holds just a tiny grudge against him for the mess he made before he and Taehyung got together, but—well, Jimin seems like the kind of person who holds grudges anyway, so he’s not too worried.
“Besides, you and I have—” Taehyung clears his voice. “Well. We have plans after.”
Yoongi hums as he opens his wardrobe. He has no clue what to wear and doesn’t particularly care to choose. “You got the package?”
“This morning.” Taehyung pauses. “I did as you told me to.”
“Mh, good boy.”
On the other side of the phone, Taehyung whines. “Don’t.”
“Not doing anything.”
“Liar.”
Grinning to himself, Yoongi decides to cut him some slack. For now. “Is this place fancy?”
“Not really, it’s—casual chic?”
“Oh, I hate that combination of words.”
Taehyung laughs. Yoongi decides to not coo at the sound because he’s an adult, and this is starting to get ridiculous.
“I’ll see you there, then,” Taehyung says.
“Yeah. Ah, don’t forget to take—”
“Painkillers, I know,” Taehyung blurts out, voice thin.
“Alright,” Yoongi chuckles. “I’ll see you later.”
He ends the call and sighs.
Eventually, he grabs a green turtleneck, a pair of slacks that may fall under the casual chic nonsense, and his leather jacket. Just before leaving, he goes into the not-sex-dungeon and glances at the new three-piece mirror he recently installed on the wall in front of the bed.
Well. It was about time he got one anyway.
The wine bar is a lot less fancy than Yoongi feared despite Taehyung’s words. As they walk inside and get seated at a table by the windows, the atmosphere is comfortable and warm. The place is full, so there’s a nice, easy hum of chatter and laughter all around them, and the music playing from the speakers is at the kind of volume that doesn’t start grating on your ears after a while.
The company is good too. In the last few months, he inevitably ended up becoming closer to Taehyung’s friends, enough so that Hoseok and Jungkook text him often during the week. Kim Seokjin then, somewhere along the way, became a new, quieter presence in Yoongi's life. They talk rarely, and briefly, but there's just something about him that makes Yoongi feel at ease. He wouldn't say they're friends just yet, but he wouldn't mind it.
And the wine is good. Expensive as shit, though.
“To Yoongi-hyung!” Jimin exclaims, holding up a glass of prosecco. “Who’s officially a hag!”
“I’m thirty-one.”
“A hag,” Jungkook echoes.
"What does that make me then?" Seokjin asks with a frown.
"Hagger," Jungkook says.
"That's not a word."
"Hagger!"
Everyone cheers and drinks, while Yoongi is left to figure out how turning thirty-one makes him a hag. Or a hagger. Whatever.
“It’s okay, hyung,” Taehyung says in his ear. “I like them older anyway.”
Yoongi reaches under the table to tweak at his hip and Taehyung shrieks, laughing.
The wine keeps coming. Yoongi keeps himself to only one glass, knowing he’ll need to be sober tonight. Thankfully, the bar also makes mocktails, so Taehyung orders one of those, something bright and that smells of fruit even from afar.
“What’s the point of coming to a wine bar if you won’t drink?” Jungkook asks.
Taehyung, behind his glass, answers, “We have plans that require me to be sober.”
“Oh, I did not need to know that,” Namjoon mutters with a pained expression.
“Speaking of that!” Jungkook perks up and looks at Hoseok, Jimin, and Seokjin. “Do you guys wanna come to a fetish club next week?”
“Holy shit, lower your voice,” Jimin hisses, kicking him under the table.
“We’re so going to get kicked out tonight,” Yoongi whispers and Taehyung nods silently.
“I’d like to,” Hoseok agrees with a bright smile, an arm slung casually over Jimin’s shoulder. “I actually never went to one.”
Seokjin stays surprisingly quiet. Only sips his drink with a small grin on his face.
“It will be fun.” Jungkook takes a sip of his red wine. “I think they’re having an event next week. Though I didn’t quite catch what it was.”
“As long as I don’t have to see Namjoon tie up someone again,” Yoongi says quietly. Because at least someone has to be quiet at this table.
But Namjoon says, “Oh, I’m not doing public scenes anymore.”
Silence falls over the table for a few moments, and only Hoseok seems to be oblivious as to why they’re reacting that way. So he frowns and asks, “Is it a big deal?”
“No way,” Yoongi says with a grin. “Retiring?”
Namjoon rolls his eyes. “‘s not like I did that many scenes there anyway.”
All eyes move to Jungkook, who shrugs. “Don’t look at me. He knows I never minded him working there.”
“It was my choice, now can we move on to another subject that possibly doesn’t involve our sex lives?”
“Presents!” Jimin claps his hands together. “Let’s do those.”
“Oh, god, you all got me presents?” Yoongi groans into his hands, feeling his ears prickle with heat.
And maybe some more comfortable warmth in his chest, but whatever.
As an answer, a series of wrapped gifts are set on the table and Yoongi feels like a child again, being forced to open his presents in front of way too many classmates.
Jungkook got him a vintage film camera and looks endearingly flustered when Yoongi genuinely loves the gift. Jimin and Hoseok got him a set of fancy soaps and body oils, lavender, and sandalwood, which is no doubt because Taehyung told them he likes those scents. Seokjin got him a bottle of expensive whiskey, and how the hell this man knows he likes drinking it is beyond him.
What was supposed to be a glass tea set apparently morphed into an additional coffee french-press and blooming tea flowers. Taehyung doesn’t say anything when Yoongi stares at him for a bit too long, but he smiles like he’s very pleased with himself.
“My gift is a bit too big,” Namjoon says casually. “You’ll find it in your studio on Monday.”
“What the fuck did you get me?”
“Something you’ll like.” Namjoon winks, clearly proud of his gift, which tells Yoongi it was expensive and way too much.
Turns out that having friends means having to deal with their generosity, who would have known?
“Thank you,” Yoongi says, clearing his throat. “It’s all too much, but thank you.”
“Aw, cute,” Jungkook coos. Then, turns to Jimin. “Let’s get wasted?”
“Let’s.”
As they call for a waiter to order another bottle, Yoongi leans back in his seat and Taehyung presses a little against his side. “Having fun?” He asks with a smile.
“Yeah,” Yoongi admits. “You?”
“Sure.” Taehyung’s lips press together. “You look good tonight.”
Yoongi forces back a smile. Maybe one day he’ll get used to being complimented by a man who looks like he’s been carved out of a statue, but not tonight. “Thank you. You look good too.”
“Mh, I made an effort.”
“As if you need any.”
Taehyung lets out that laugh of his that is just a breath short of being a giggle, and presses a bit closer. Yoongi’s hand ends up moving on its own, curving over Taehyung’s thigh, and maybe it’s too high up, but it’s not like anyone can see. Yoongi watches the faintest flush dust over Taehyung’s cheekbones and then feels the shift of Taehyung’s legs spreading just enough for him to notice.
Yoongi suddenly wishes this birthday party was over.
“Just out of curiosity,” Yoongi whispers. “How does it feel?”
Taehyung swallows. Hard enough Yoongi can hear the click of his throat. The rest of the group is still going over the list of wines, arguing loudly about what to choose.
Quietly, Taehyung replies, “It feels nice.”.
“Yeah? Is that why you’ve been fidgeting all evening?”
Taehyung’s mouth curves up in a faint smile. “I like wearing it. Too much, maybe.” Quieter, he adds, “I’ve been focusing on not getting hard all evening so maybe get your hands off me before they really kick us out.”
Yoongi squeezes Taehyung’s thigh hard once before he pulls his hand away. This is fun. Most things end up being fun with Taehyung, but this is new, something they’ve never tried, so the excitement is starting to build.
In the end, they finally decide on a bottle to order, and the chatter picks up again.
An hour and a half later, Jimin is dragging a wasted Hoseok over their car, Namjoon is trying to stop Jungkook from climbing him like a tree in the middle of the street, and Kim Seokjin looks as impeccable as he did the moment he showed up.
This guy is unreal.
“Happy birthday, hyung,” Namjoon groans as he keeps Jungkook from stumbling face-first on the pavement. “I’ll see you on Monday.”
“If you survive the night,” Taehyung mutters, eyeing Jungkook as he dissolves into giggles.
As the two leave, Seokjin says, “It was good to meet you again. We should hang out more.”
“We should,” Yoongi agrees.
“Do you like fishing?”
“Oh, there he goes,” Taehyung murmurs.
“I—” Yoongi frowns. “Not really?”
“We’ll go fishing together then.”
“I just said—”
“I’ll text you about it.” Seokjin then pats Taehyung on the shoulder. “I’ll see you at work, then.”
As he leaves too, Taehyung sighs. “We’re getting near the final run of the show.”
“Do you have something lined up already?”
Taehyung shrugs. “I have some auditions, but who knows if they’ll go well. But that’s the life of an actor.” He takes Yoongi’s hand and they start walking to the car. “To be fair, I’ll miss this show but not that goddamn wig.”
“You know, you never told me when your birthday is.”
“Ah, we missed it.” Taehyung smiles. “December thirty-first.”
Back then they were still under Yoongi’s contract. Yoongi hums pensively. He should make it good then, next year. Something that would make up for the birthday they missed.
“I’m glad you had fun!” Taehyung exclaims as they get inside the car. “I know you don’t like all the attention, but it was good, yeah?”
“It was.”
“It’s about to get better.”
Yoongi slams the car door shut with way too much force. In the passenger seat, Taehyung looks quite smug.
“It is.” Yoongi starts the car.
The instructions Yoongi left were simple and, to be fair, fully self-indulgent.
The first one was to wear the set he chose at the party if he felt comfortable doing so. The second one was for Taehyung to not look at it. To wear it as quickly as possible without taking a close look and, more importantly, to not see what it looked like on him.
That was mostly to ease Taehyung’s nerves. As much as he wanted to wear it, Yoongi could tell Taehyung was nervous about the idea. Then there was also the factor of control this gave Yoongi over this process that, he’ll admit, was for his own enjoyment. Taehyung didn’t seem to mind when he told him this, if anything it might have helped.
Now Taehyung is in the bathroom, putting on the robe Yoongi prepared and, possibly, taking some time for himself to start getting in the right headspace.
Yoongi is setting the tools for the scene on the corner of the bed: the collar, then the leather cuffs, and the new leather gloves Yoongi got recently. By their side, Yoongi sets the riding crop and the wand. He’d been wanting to use it on Taehyung for a while now, and this seemed like the right time to introduce the toy. Finally, a silicone plug and the lube.
Just as he’s done, the door opens and Taehyung hesitates near it, clad in the satin blue robe.
Yoongi looks at him, then asks, “You’re alright?”
Taehyung lets out a huff of laughter and, leaning against the door, he hides his face behind his hands. “I’m so fucking shy right now it’s unbelievable.”
Yoongi chuckles, feeling a rush of fondness swim in his chest. He sits on the bed and gestures at Taehyung to come closer. “We don’t have to do this tonight, you know?”
“I really want to, I’m just being stupid.”
“It’s not stupid.” Yoongi waits for Taehyung to come close enough before he takes his hand to draw him between his legs. Looking up at him, he says, “It’s okay to be nervous.”
Taehyung nods after a moment, thumb stroking over the back of Yoongi’s hand. “I want to do it.”
“Alright. One step at a time, then.” Yoongi grabs the gloves and shows them to Taehyung, holding them up. “I’ll wear these, is it alright with you?”
Taehyung eyes the gloves with clear interest. They’re nothing special, just good leather, thick. He nods.
“Then will you put them on me?”
Taehyung nods again, taking the gloves in his hands. He feels them for a moment, stroking over the leather, then carefully slides the first glove on Yoongi’s left hand, then on his right. Once they’re on, he holds onto his hands, taking some more time to get familiar with the feel of them. “I like them,” Taehyung says in the end.
“Good.” Yoongi grabs the collar next. “Down.”
Taehyung quickly gets on his knees, scooting closer as he settles. Kneeling between Yoongi’s legs, hands folded over his lap, he looks at him expectantly. He’s excited, Yoongi can see it.
Carefully, Yoongi leans down to put the collar on Taehyung, closing it behind his neck. When he strokes over Taehyung’s jawline, there’s a visible shiver that runs through him, eyes fluttering almost to a close for a brief second.
“You do like them,” Yoongi muses, stroking over Taehyung’s cheekbones with gloved fingers.
“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers. “Feels nice.”
Bracing an elbow over his leg, Yoongi leans down until their noses are brushing, and moves his thumb to rub over Taehyung’s bottom lip. It feels different to touch him like this, obviously. He’s used to having his hands on Taehyung all the time, to feel the heat of his skin, the give of his flesh. Now, all he can feel is the smooth skin and the softness of his lips. Taehyung swallows and slowly opens his mouth.
Pleased with how easily Taehyung read him, Yoongi presses his thumb inside. He can feel, somewhat, the heat of Taehyung’s mouth when he sucks around the glove. But there’s no wetness, just the slick glide of leather over his tongue.
“You’re going to look lovely,” Yoongi says quietly. “So no need to be shy, mh?”
Taehyung hums, lips tight around the leather of his glove.
Yoongi presses his thumb against his tongue, stroking over it for a few moments, then pulls his finger out slowly. Taehyung’s breath has gone quicker already, and his hands are holding onto the robe’s fabric tightly.
“Up.” Yoongi leans back and waits for Taehyung to stand. There’s a kick of excitement when he finally starts pulling on the robe’s belt, slowly. Taehyung holds his breath.
As the belt comes undone, the robe slides open.
Yoongi’s next breath is hitched, throat tight. He knew he’d look good. Obviously he would, how wouldn’t he?
Still, seeing him in the set he picked is different than just imagining it.
Yoongi takes his time in taking him. He lets his eyes roam over the delicate bralette, the same pale blue color of the lingerie Taehyung showed him. The lace is so thin and fine that Yoongi can see Taehyung’s nipples and the lovely color of his skin, the silk flower decorations framing his chest down to his upper ribs. The garter belt sits snugly over the curve of Taehyung’s waist, the silk pieces there go down to cover his hipbones, and like this his waist looks so small, his hips so soft. The belt’s straps are clasped to the garters at his thighs, and those dig into his skin just a little, just enough to see it. Yoongi wets his lips, faintly aware of how hard it is to breathe right. The silk panties look soft, smooth, and the thin straps that close into pretty ribbons at his sides are tempting enough that Yoongi’s hands twitch. He tells himself to wait. Patience will be rewarding, no doubt about that.
He can’t quite look away though. Not from Taehyung’s chest, looking softer and broader than ever under the silk and lace, not from the shape of Taehyung’s cock under the pretty blue silk, already fattening up, the bulge visible.
Wordlessly, Yoongi slides the robe off Taehyung completely, letting it pool at his feet.
Breathing in deeply, Yoongi brings his hands to curve around Taehyung’s waist over the garter belt, and that looks good, how the leather of his gloves contrasts the pale silk there, and how his fingers cover so much of his skin. Humming deep in his chest, Yoongi squeezes him there and Taehyung lets out a brief gasp. “Yeah, lovely.”
Yoongi’s getting hard already, dick jerking in his pants. It’s not his first time seeing a beautiful man in lingerie, but—well, they weren’t Taehyung.
Finally, he looks up at Taehyung’s face; he’s blushing more than usual, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Yoongi smirks, “What to do? I can’t be mean to you when you look so good.”
This makes Taehyung laugh, and lose some tension. He shakes his head and says, “Hyung will have to work with it.”
“Will I?” Yoongi clicks his tongue. “Doesn’t matter how you dress up, you still can’t help yourself, mh?”
Taehyung doesn’t answer, but his chest rises and falls, lips parted around shallow breaths.
It’s a struggle to look away, but Yoongi has to so he can grab the leather cuffs. Taehyung holds out his wrists quickly, eager. It’s been a while since he got to be tied up, and Yoongi knows he’s been looking forward to this. He makes quick work of them, securing them around Taehyung’s wrists and then holding onto the chain connecting them for a few moments.
“I’ll turn you around to face the mirror,” Yoongi says, looking him in the eyes. “I want you to look at yourself. Green?”
Taehyung’s throat bobs. “Green.”
So Yoongi guides him, slowly, turning him around, and quickly looks at the mirror as well to check Taehyung’s reaction.
For a few moments, nothing happens. Taehyung looks at his reflection without blinking, holding his breath. Then, as Yoongi’s hands come to rest over his hips again, he heaves a long sigh, eyes softening.
“Yeah, look at you,” Yoongi murmurs, a hot swell of satisfaction spreading in his chest. “Beautiful.”
“Thank you,” Taehyung breathes out, eyes roaming over his reflection. Like this, when Taehyung's cock twitches, Yoongi sees it in the mirror, how it strains for a second against the silk.
And, finally, Yoongi gets to enjoy the sigh of Taehyung’s ass in those panties. Before he can think against it, he moves his hands to grope at his asscheeks, squeezing tight. Taehyung gasps, taking a stumbling step forward.
“Don’t move,” Yoongi says. He spreads his asscheeks apart, mouth dry. Fuck, it’s good. “Could probably fuck you with the panties still on,” he says, his voice a rasp. “All I need to do is move the fabric to the side.”
Taehyung makes a sound at this and pushes into Yoongi’s hands.
“You like that?” Yoongi leans in and presses his mouth to the small of Taehyung’s back, just under the garter belt. “Good boy.”
He lets go of Taehyung’s ass so he can pull him closer, then moves his hands to the front. He strokes gloved fingers down Taehyung’s inner thighs, feeling him shiver, and mouths at the warm skin of Taehyung’s back, down his spine. Taehyung arches into it, only letting out a quiet, pleased, sound. As he trails his fingers up, over Taehyung’s stomach, tongue pressed flat to his skin, Yoongi wonders just how long it will take for his patience to snap today. Fine, maybe he’s just a weak asshole who got hard just seeing his partner wearing lingerie. That’s not a crime. Ruining a scene because he’s so desperate to get his dick wet is, though, so he decides that he will get a grip on himself immediately.
When his fingers reach Taehyung’s chest, and he rubs leather over the pretty lace covering Taehyung’s nipples, Taehyung moans with that deep voice of his, body leaning more into Yoongi’s hands.
Yoongi hums, rolling his fingers over Taehyung’s nipples. He can feel them getting harder and wishes he could feel the lace too. Maybe later. For now, he focuses on leaving a mark on Taehyung’s back, teeth scraping hard so he can soothe the sting with his mouth while he plays with Taehyung’s chest, groping at the giving flesh there, solid and sensitive whenever he presses down on the nipples.
He hears the click of chains rattling, but Taehyung’s hands stay near his belly. Did he try touching himself? That’s hot, already getting eager.
When Yoongi pulls back to admire for a few moments the blooming red on Taehyung’s skin, he squeezes Taehyung’s nipples between gloved fingers hard. Taehyung’s voice pitches, hips jerking tightly.
Leaning to the side, Yoongi rests his head against Taehyung’s hip and looks at their reflection, another wave of arousal cutting his breath short. Taehyung’s hard under the panties, the outline of his cock visible where the silk touches. But Taehyung’s eyes are closed, lips parted around short, breathy moans as Yoongi keeps touching his chest.
“Didn’t say you could stop looking, did I?”
“Sorry.” Taehyung takes a moment to open his eyes, but he does immediately focus on their reflection. He hums, pleased with what he sees, fingers twitching.
“Yeah, look how hard you are.” Yoongi kisses his hip. “Feels good?”
Taehyung nods, short-breathed. “The gloves feel—good. The lace, too.”
Yoongi lowers one hand, the other groping Taehyung’s chest hard as he trails down his belly to then stroke one finger over Taehyung’s erection, above the silk.
Taehyung’s cock jerks, straining against the fabric. He swallows loudly, then whines.
“More?”
“Please.”
“I don’t want to.” Yoongi keeps on only applying a faint pressure, thumb and index fingers stroking up and down the sides of his cock. The silk is so smooth, and with the leather of the gloves, it must be the most frustrating feeling. “You’re so worked up already, and there’s so much we have to do.”
Taehyung does try to grind into Yoongi’s hand, but even then it does very little. And just for that, Yoongi twists Taehyung’s nipple between his fingers until Taehyung yelps and his cock twitches.
“Behave. It would be too easy to turn this into a punishment.” Not that Yoongi would mind. He has a feeling Taehyung wouldn’t either.
With one last squeeze of Taehyung’s chest and a kiss pressed to his hip, Yoongi pulls his hands away and stands up. “On the bed. On your stomach.”
Taehyung is quick to do as he’s told, lying on his stomach as Yoongi grabs the lube and the plug. He walks to the side of the bed, behind Taehyung. “Ass up.”
Slowly, Taehyung lifts himself up, on his elbows and knees. “Arms down on the bed too. Mmh, like this.”
Taehyung’s cuffed arms now lay flat over the mattress, fingers loosely curled, the side of his face pressed to the bedding, hips raised and his legs spread.
Like this, the fabric of his panties slides between his asscheeks, and the garter’s dig even more into the skin of his thighs.
“Why are you facing that way?”
It takes Taehyung a few moments to turn his head to the other side so that he can see his reflection. Yoongi looks at the mirror as well; the way Taehyung’s eyes are taking the sight in is a show in itself.
Yoongi presses his gloved fingers between Taehyung’s shoulders and trails them down his spine, watching as Taehyung’s back arches down, ass raised higher to follow his touch. Watching himself in the mirror, Taehyung sighs, eyes lidded and dark.
As distracted as he is, he still notices when Yoongi lifts a hand to slap harshly at his ass. He hisses, hips jerking, and settles again when Yoongi gropes the asscheek he just slapped.
“Hurt?”
“Mmh.”
“So?”
“Thank you,” Taehyung whispers thickly.
“That’s it.” Yoongi then takes one glove off his right hand and drops it over Taehyung’s back. He’ll need his fingers for this, at least in the beginning.
He makes quick work of lubing up his fingers, then pushes the panties to the side, enjoying the sight of Taehyung’s hole next to the delicate silk. He rubs around Taehyung’s rim for a few moments, feeling him clench, tensing up. He begins pushing in one finger, then slowly out, back inside again. Taehyung hums, and spreads his legs further apart for him.
“Good boy,” Yoongi praises. He’s tight, but there’s not much resistance, probably thanks to the painkillers. So he adds a second one quickly, feeling him stretch around his fingers. Taehyung’s hips twitch at this, but he’s still relaxed. He thrusts into Taehyung slowly, only applying a faint pressure to his prostate as he pulls out, not wanting to stimulate him too much too soon. Taehyung’s breath hitches whenever he does pay attention to that spot though, hole clenching and thighs trembling.
When he can add a third one, fingers spreading as he fucks them into him, crooking as he pulls them back, Taehyung’s moans finally start coming out, still deep and velvety, short.
Satisfied, Yoongi pulls his fingers out fully and grabs the plug, lubing it up between his slick fingers. He knows Taehyung is looking at him in the mirror, knows what’s coming next, his breathing faster. The plug's curved tip stretches Taehyung’s rim before it slides into him, making him jolt.
“Fuck,” Taehyung chokes, toes curling.
Yoongi shushes him gently, playing with the end of the plug as he tugs it back just a fraction, then pushes it back in, pressing it deeper. With the way it’s curved, it must be pressing against Taehyung’s prostate faintly, frustrating as it is, but it will do its job once he gets to the riding crop. For now, he lands two fast, harsh slaps against Taehyung’s asscheeks, eyes on their reflection so he gets to see Taehyung’s face twist when the pain first hits, then go slack when the pleasure washes over him as he clenches around the plug, a startled moan punched out of him.
Yoongi dries his fingers over the bedding and puts the glove back on. He walks to the other side of the bed to take the riding crop and hits his own thigh with it once, hissing at the hot sting of pain.
This crop is narrow, long. Hurts more than a flat, wide one, but he’s confident Taehyung will appreciate it.
He settles behind him again and, just to see if it does anything, he squeezes the stick between his gloved hands, and the leather creaks drily. Taehyung doesn’t gasp, but nearly. He goes tight around the plug.
Amused, Yoongi rests the crop’s keeper gently over Taehyung’s spine as he covers the plug under the panties’ silk. “Green?”
“Yes,” Taehyung whispers.
“Spread your legs more. Like that.” He makes his way down Taehyung’s body with the riding crop, tapping it lightly over his back, his hips, and the small of his back, then rests it firmly over the curve of his asscheek. The first hit is light, a short lift and release. Taehyung only gasps faintly, eyes focused on their reflection.
Yoongi finds a rhythm, steady hits that gradually become harder, lifting the crop higher each time. Taehyung’s voice is nearly a whine as Yoongi works his way up to harsher hits, the fabric of his panties bunching and creasing whenever he clenches and then relaxes.
The first real hit is fast, high, over the swell of his ass, and the sound the leather keeper makes as it bites into Taehyung’s skin is dry.
“Thank you,” Taehyung gasps, words melting into a moan at the end.
Yoongi fixes his posture, taking one short step back. Yeah, the aim is better this way, gives him a better angle when he brings the riding crop down once, twice, and then keeps it pressed over the spot he hit, red and sensitive. Taehyung’s hips jerk as he cries out, fingers wrenching the soft bedding into a crumpled mess.
One glance at their reflection, at Taehyung’s flushed face, his lips parted and shiny.
“Doing so well, looking so pretty,” Yoongi breathes out, and lands another hit on the same spot, stroking over it with the tip before hitting it again, air cracking as he sends it down.
This one stings, he can tell by the noise it makes, and Taehyung grunts, back bowing and then arching down again. “Fuck,” he groans, thighs trembling. “Thank you.”
Yoongi swallows. His cock is hard and he’s too aware of it, of how it strains against the trousers he’s wearing. He ignores it, refusing to touch himself even just to adjust himself. Taehyung’s looking at the mirror and, for some stubborn reason, he refuses to show him how affected he is by this.
He lands another hit, softer than the previous one, but quickly switches the crop to his left hand so he can use his hand instead to slap hard and fast over his asscheek, groping it immediately after only to then spank him again. The leather makes a good sound on his skin, and has much more resistance than skin, so the drag bites into Taehyung’s sensitive skin enough to drag a garbled moan out of him, the plug shifting under the panties.
God, it really has been a while since they had a scene like this and Yoongi missed the kind of atmosphere it brought, how much more pliant and obedient Taehyung is when there’s pain washing over him. The control it gives Yoongi feels good, good enough he has to swallow down a moan at the sight of Taehyung’s marked-up skin, particularly satisfying when paired with the lovely lingerie he’s wearing.
They should have done this sooner.
The riding crop goes back into his dominant hand, and he decides to pick a rhythm for a few seconds, to see just how much Taehyung can take it. The hits might be lighter, but there’s no time for the pain to ebb, only building as it spreads and burns over his ass until Taehyung’s voice cracks, shuddering visibly.
“Good boy,” Yoongi croons, stroking over the bruised area with the crop.
“Hyung—” Taehyung moans, whiney and drawn out. “More, please.”
Yoongi clicks his tongue, chest hot. “Fuck me for being careful, huh?”
“Don’t be—”
“You’ll take what I give you, how I give it to you.” Yoongi looks at the mirror, finding Taehyung’s eyes in their reflection.
“‘m sorry,” Taehyung whispers, blinking fast. He arches his back a little, like a silent invitation. “It’s just so—so good.”
Fuck him, he really can’t stay mad even if he wanted to. Forcing himself to look away from the mirror, Yoongi moves his focus to Taehyung’s body again.
The bruise is more visible now that it had time to bloom, with hot red stripes that spread and fade. So he moves the crop to stroke down Taehyung’s inner thighs, tapping lightly over them. Taehyung tenses, toes curling.
The angle isn’t the best, but Yoongi still lands a quick, harsh hit and smirks at the hiss Taehyung lets out. He does it again, traveling higher, listening to the pitch of Taehyung’s voice shifting into something higher, sweeter. His cock is hanging heavily between his legs, straining against the panties. Yoongi rests the tip of the crop against it and Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath.
“Look how hard you got,” he says before tapping against the length lightly. Taehyung’s hips twitch hard, cock jerking. “Painslut.”
Taehyung whines, but he’s—rubbing against the crop in short, hesitant grinds.
Yoongi breathes in. He taps it again, the crop’s end bending, slapping lightly over his cock.
“Ah!” Taehyung moans, ass clenching, thighs trembling. “Thank you.”
Fuck, that’s good. There’s no way Yoongi can hit him any harder than this there, he wouldn’t dare, but just the feeling of the crop must be a lot. Careful to apply the same level of strength, he hits Taehyung’s cock in a steady rhythm, the tip’s leather bending as he does, the sound it makes against the silk soft and alluring. Taehyung’s moan is drawn out, airy, like he’s losing control of it, the end of the plug shifting, pulled in as he clenches around it. His fingers uncurl, spine arching like he’s stopped trying to hold himself in position.
“Good, baby,” Yoongi murmurs, drunk on the feeling, letting his arousal hit him.
Taehyung whimpers, cock twitching against the crop as Yoongi doesn’t let up, moving it higher up the length to hit at his cockhead. That has Taehyung’s chest heaving, his voice cracking like he’s been slapped. But he’s pliant, body loose, fully lost in the feeling.
Then, Yoongi rests the crop’s end against his length for a second, before pulling it back, so he can get a good angle and send it down harshly, fast, on the untouched skin of Taehyung’s ass. The sudden pain has Taehyung cry out loud enough it echoes in the room. When Yoongi hits him there again, twice, then down lower so that the tip slaps into the soft space between Taehyung’s asscheek and his thigh, his legs draw closer together.
“Color.”
Taehyung whines, “Green, I’m—”
“Then don’t fucking move.” Yoongi hits the back of his thigh with the crop, cock twitching at the sound Taehyung makes. “Spread them.”
Taehyung does, slowly, shuddering. The marks spread now, a darker red, pretty and already raised. When Yoongi strokes over them with the leather tip, Taehyung shivers and sinks a bit harder into the mattress. Four more hits, fast, harsh, until Taehyung’s chest heaves with a dry sob, cock jerking. Yoongi breathes out hard, in, gropes at his asscheek to hear him whimper. His skin is hot even with the gloves in the way.
Yoongi moves the crop down, to hit the back of his thighs, then up again, on the asscheek that bears fewer bruises so he can fix that. Taehyung takes every hit like he’s getting drunk on it, and maybe he is—his voice is airy, choked, plug shifting, sucked in, the panties tight around the base of it.
Yoongi aims at it: the riding crop hits the plug’s base hard and Taehyung’s hips suddenly jerk forward, body tensing up all at once. “Gonna come,” Taehyung gasps.
“Do it,” Yoongi says and hits the plug again, the tip catching on it. Taehyung’s back arches, legs spreading. One more time, then one more, and the crop’s tip bends, and slaps hard— Taehyung comes with a shudder and a startled moan, cock twitching in his panties.
Yoongi lets out a breathless laughter, chest rising and falling fast. “Fucking hell, Tae,” he pants, feeling a bead of sweat trail down his neck. “Good boy.”
Taehyung is quiet, body twitching with aftershocks of pleasure. He whimpers when Yoongi leans down to lick over the bruises, skin swollen and so hot he moans against it, scraping his teeth over them until Taehyung’s voice goes thin, wrecked.
Yoongi stands up straight again, rolling his shoulders, neck creaking. That felt—good. Left him dizzy with it.
He throws the crop somewhere on the bed, and gently strokes over Taehyung’s hips. “Lean on your side. Slow.”
Taehyung does, careful and a bit clumsy with it.
One look at his face tells Yoongi that Taehyung’s gone. He smiles, satisfied and pleased with this outcome. He gets on the bed too, and as he settles on his knees he grabs Taehyung’s thighs to turn him on his back, then drags him closer to him, guiding his legs so that they’re spread around his hips.
“Good?” He asks.
Taehyung blinks at him. He nods once, breath still short, eyes glazed, wet. Somewhere along the way, the bralette rode up, exposing one side of his chest, lace all bundled up.
“Look at this,” Yoongi says as he drags his thumb over Taehyung’s panties; they’re wet, stained dark, cock still stiff under them, the tip just peeking out the silk. “You made a mess of them.”
Taehyung hums, knees rubbing up and down Yoongi’s sides. “Felt good.”
“Mh, I can see that.”
“Hyung-ah.”
“Yeah?”
Taehyung hums again, and he starts rolling his hips, slowly, languidly. “I feel good.”
Yoongi smiles. He did get drunk on it, then. High off the endorphins. “Yeah? Light?”
Taehyung nods. “Don’t wanna stop.”
“We won’t then.” Yoongi strokes up his hip, over his waist, where the garter belt makes it look so goddamn small. Then, he rolls a thumb over the length of Taehyung’s cock, silk smooth and damp. Taehyung breathes out a moan, hips rising to meet Yoongi’s touch.
“Still hard, too.” He reaches down, moving the fabric to the side to grab the plug and pull it out slowly, fucking it back into him, at the same pace, dragging it out.
Taehyung’s legs are pressed against his sides, mouth slack, cuffed hands twitching where they lay over his stomach.
Finally, Yoongi pulls it out and drops it behind him. There’s lube smeared all around his rim, and Yoongi collects it on his gloved fingers, slicking them up. Then, he carefully fucks one into him.
“Oh,” Taehyung moans, eyes closing as he clenches. “Yeah—”
Yoongi hums, and thrusts in, out, slow, lazy with it. He adds a second one, and with the thickness of the leather, he can feel how it stretches Taehyung’s rim, how tight he goes around them. The leather creaks, lube squelching. Taehyung grinds into his hand, voice quiet but thick with pleasure. His cock twitches, hardens more.
It’s so easy like this, with Taehyung being so willing, so lost in it. Yoongi’s mouth goes dry, skin hot. He missed seeing Taehyung so under, has been craving a scene like this for a while.
He’s been patient enough.
Pulling out his fingers, Yoongi grabs the lube and condoms. He’s aware of Taehyung’s eyes on him as he undoes his belt and trousers, pulling his cock out to slide the condom over it. He slicks himself up with lube and, as he lines himself up, Taehyung spreads his legs, staring at him with that dazed look of his.
When he finally fucks into him, Taehyung’s hot, tight.
“Fuck,” Yoongi moans, gripping onto his hips tight.
Taehyung shudders, moaning lightly, eyes fluttering closed. His hands move clumsily to press over his abdomen, where Yoongi’s cock is deep inside him, and that’s hot enough that Yoongi has the terrible realization that if he really starts fucking him he’ll come too soon.
He doesn’t move, focusing on breathing and getting himself in control again. Taehyung doesn’t seem too happy with that and tries to fuck himself on Yoongi’s cock with slow rolls of his hips.
“Stop that.” Yoongi slaps at his thigh, hissing when that makes Taehyung clench so fucking tight around him— “I mean that. Be good.”
Taehyung listens to him, though he makes sure to whine just to get his point across. Which is very cute, and Yoongi kind of feels like dropping the attitude just to give him what he wants. For one second. Then he gets a grip.
“You don’t want to try your new toy?”
Taehyung wets his lips, fingers twitching. “I do,” he says quietly, shaky.
“Then stay still.” Yoongi reaches for the wand. It’s heavy in his hand, sturdy, and when he rests the rubber head over Taehyung’s cock, he clenches in anticipation.
He turns it on at the lowest setting; the vibrations start immediately, whirring with a muted noise. Taehyung flinches, knees knowing hard against Yoongi’s hips, and he lets out a startled moan.
“Ssht, easy,” Yoongi murmurs, moving the wand over Taehyung’s length slowly, the silk of his panties making the glide smooth. “You’re okay.”
Taehyung holds his breath, body twitching all over, hole clenching. His cock jerks under the wand, a new dark spot forming on the fabric as he leaks precum. He must be sensitive after coming from the plug and the pain, and even this low setting is overwhelming. It’s slow, but Taehyung’s body loosens after a while, and his voice changes pitch, moans higher, breathy.
Holding onto his hip, keeping the wand’s head pressed to his cock, Yoongi pulls his hips back and fucks back into him fast, deep, and doesn’t move again. Taehyung’s hands scramble for something to hold onto, to touch—when he finds nothing, he scrapes his nails over his own stomach, moaning.
“That’s it, good boy,” Yoongi groans, allowing himself to fully feel the heat of Taehyung’s ass around him. He keeps twitching inside, hips jerking clumsily.
Yoongi thrusts into him again, slow and lazy, watching how Taehyung’s spine arches, how his thighs shake.
“Gonna come,” Taehyung whimpers, tensing up.
Yoongi pulls the wand away and stays buried inside him without moving. Taehyung swallows harshly, breathing through his nose, holding himself back.
“Good boy,” Yoongi whispers, sweat now gathering at the base of his neck, down his back. He’s fucking burning, and he puts the wand away for a moment so he can pull the sweater off of him, mentally cursing himself for keeping it on this long.
When he settles again, he notices Taehyung staring at him with lidded eyes, chest rising and falling fast. His ego swells, just a little.
“Something you want to say?” He asks, teasing.
Taehyung hums, thighs stroking up Yoongi’s hip. “Handsome.”
Yoongi snorts, pointedly ignoring the blush he can feel spreading on his face. “Thank you.”
“All mine,” Taehyung sighs, almost dreamily.
Yoongi’s breath does something weird. And he can’t really help it when he leans down to kiss Taehyung, or when he fucks into him just to feel Taehyung’s moan on his tongue, cuffed hands reaching to stroke over his chest, blunt nails dragging down his stomach. Yoongi grips Taehyung’s asscheeks, spreading them apart, gloved fingers digging into his bruises. Taehyung kisses him harder, rolling his hips.
Pulling away is a struggle, but he wants to move the scene forward.
He settles on his knees again, but as he does he pushes Taehyung forward, holding him up by the hips. Taehyung’s voice cracks at the sudden thrust, at being manhandled further down the bed, until his head hands off the edge.
“Look at the mirror,” Yoongi says once he’s satisfied with the position. “At yourself.”
Taehyung blinks at their reflection, and flushes harder, down his neck, his chest. And Yoongi’s never been vane, never really cared for it, but even he can tell they look good like this, with Taehyung’s pretty lingerie all messed up, and his legs spread open around Yoongi’s hips.
He grabs the wand again, switches it to a higher setting, and moves it to press on the lace over Taehyung’s nipple. Taehyung hiccups, face lax with pleasure, cock twitching against the panties, the tip wet where it peeks out of the silk.
So Yoongi fixes that, covering it fully so that he can rub that smooth silk over Taehyung’s cockhead.
“Hyung,” Taehyung whimpers, shuddering. “Yeah—”
“You’re so wet.” Yoongi swallows, cock throbbing. “Close?”
Taehyung whines, staring at the mirror, looking fucked out already. “Mmh, don’t know, feels—good.”
Yoongi hums, pleased with the answer. If Taehyung loses control that will just make it better. He moves the wand down Taehyung’s stomach, then presses it over his cockhead. Taehyung groans, hips jerking up hard. Yoongi pulls back his hips and snaps them forward, fucking into him fast before stopping again. Taehyung’s hands, clumsy and stiff, wrap around his wrist. He says something, garbled, slurred, muscles seizing—
Yoongi switches the wand to the next setting, the whirring louder. In the mirror, Taehyung’s eyes roll back.
Before he can come, Yoongi pulls the wand away and instead rubs Taehyung’s nipple between his fingers, leather dry and thick. Taehyung goes tight around him, cock straining against the silk.
Maybe he could come just from this. Just from keeping Yoongi’s cock warm, and having his chest played with. With how deep under he is, it wouldn’t be hard—
Yoongi fucks into him once, watches him arch, and then presses the wand over the lace, pressing it down his nipple, his gloved hand groping at his chest. Taehyung chokes, hips rolling so hard his cock slaps back against his belly.
Yoongi rolls Taehyung’s hard nipple under his fingers, rubs the wand in circles, pushing it down—Taehyung comes without a sound. His body seizes and then his hips start twitching up and down, cock spilling untouched in the panties.
“Fucking—” Yoongi moans, eyes closed when he feels how tight and twitchy Taehyung’s insides are.
Taehyung sobs drily as his muscles loosen again, legs sliding down. But when Yoongi throws the wand to the side and reaches inside Taehyung’s panties to stroke his cock in his gloved hand, he makes a noise so overwhelmed and so goddamn filthy, Yoongi can’t help but start fucking into him.
Taehyung’s hands fly to his chest and Yoongi thinks he might be trying to push him away for a moment. Instead, Taehyung’s nails scratch down his chest, the cuff’s chain clicking.
“Good boy,” Yoongi rasps, fucking into him slow and deep. “Give me one more.”
Taehyung gasps wetly, goes tight, thighs trembling. But Yoongi can see them in the mirror, can see how Taehyung’s eyes are barely open, how there’s drool trickling out of the corner of his mouth as he moans, pitched and strained.
His cock is wet, the leather of his gloves sliding smoothly over the head, stiff and hot as Yoongi keeps up that slow pace, rolling his hips, as deep as he can fuck into him, hips pressing over Taehyung’s bruised skin.
Yoongi keeps on kneading it, fucks him, and he’s close, it’s melting his insides, pleasure cresting— Taehyung comes before him and this one must burn, wrecks through him in spasms as he spills weakly over Yoongi’s glove, in his fist.
Yoongi’s orgasm hits him just as Taehyung’s voice breaks into a cry, and he fucks through him, rides it until he can’t breathe anymore, mind blank.
The quiet that follows is engulfing. Taehyung is quiet if not for the ragged breaths that keep on coming out, body shuddering every few moments.
Yoongi breathes out his nose and slowly starts pulling out.
“No,” Taehyung whimpers, clamping around him.
Yoongi shushes him gently, heart tight. “You’re okay, relax. Breathe.”
“Don’t leave,” he whispers.
“Not leaving, I’m here.” He keeps one hand curved over his hip as he pulls the condom off and, fuck it, he throws it on the ground. He’ll take care of it later.
He tucks himself back in his briefs at least, hissing at the bite of the leather gloves over his spent cock. Then, Yoongi starts pulling Taehyung’s body up the bed, so that his head isn’t hanging off it anymore. Checking on him, Yoongi sees Taehyung is still vigil, blinking drowsily and looking perfectly content, fucked out and flushed.
“Taking these off, yeah?” Yoongi asks, holding onto the cuffs’ chain. Taehyung hums. Once those are off, Yoongi spends a few moments to massage over Taehyung’s wrists.
Taehyung frowns then and weakly pulls at Yoongi’s hand. “Off.”
Ah. Quickly, Yoongi pulls the gloves off, and immediately Taehyung’s expression eases again. He holds onto Yoongi’s hand, playing with his fingers for a few moments.
That’s—Yoongi sighs, and brings Taehyung’s hand up so he can kiss over his knuckles. “Good?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung whispers. “Stay?”
“Mh, of course.” He must be under still. Might not get out of it for a while, it had been a while since they had a scene this long or this intense. So he stays, stroking up Taehyung’s thighs, over his hips, and now that he can his skin again—it brings some relief to him too.
Taehyung’s breathing evens out, body loose and warm.
Yoongi stares at the panties. They’re ruined. Before he can really question it, Yoongi listens to the urge to pull at the string until one of the ribbons comes undone. Below him, Taehyung breathes out.
He does the same to the other string and pulls the fabric away. Taehyung’s cock is soft over his belly, flushed dark. Yoongi scoots back a little, holding up one of his thighs to lean down and lick at the cum over Taehyung’s skin.
“Hyung,” Taehyung breathes out.
Yoongi hums, tongue heavy with the taste of him. He laps at his skin, feeling him shiver, then sucks at his navel, breathing in. There’s no way he’ll get his mouth on Taehyung’s cock, it’s too soon, but this feels good too, especially when Taehyung’s fingers card through his hair, to tug at it faintly.
Something uncurls in Yoongi’s chest the longer he keeps at it, leaving a mark over Taehyung’s navel, so close to his cock. Satisfied, he straightens up, only for Taehyung to pull him in, pretty hands cradling his face, eyes soft.
Shit, Yoongi is so far deep in this relationship it’s terrifying. The good kind of terrifying, maybe. Definitely.
When he kisses him, Taehyung’s arms wrap around his neck, humming deep in his chest.
“Thank you,” Yoongi whispers. “You were perfect.”
Taehyung smiles, thumb stroking over Yoongi’s cheekbones lightly. “You too.”
“Good birthday?”
Taehyung giggles, still a bit drunk from pleasure. “Mmh, you tell me.”
“It was good.”
“If this was for your birthday I’m almost scared to think about what you’ll do for mine.”
“I have some ideas.” He presses another kiss to Taehyung’s mouth. “We need to wash up.”
Taehyung makes a displeased noise.
“And you need to drink some water. Eat something.” He reaches behind, to stroke faintly over Taehyung’s bruises. “And I need to take care of these.”
With a roll of his eyes, Taehyung drops his arms and makes it very clear he won’t move unless moved.
Spoiled brat.
“Gonna feel these for days.”
Yoongi snorts. “Too much?”
“No.”
In Yoongi’s bedroom, it’s dark and quiet. Under the blankets, pressed to him, Taehyung smells of Yoongi’s soaps and of lotion.
“Should we stay in tomorrow?” Yoongi slurs, already half-asleep and lazily stroking Taehyung’s back.
“Mmh, yeah. You gotta try out the fancy tea set.”
“So much tea to make.”
“Coffee too.” Taehyung sighs. “What do you wear to galas?”
Fucking gala, Yoongi forgot about it.
“Don’t remind me,” he groans. “Suits. I guess.”
“You guess?”
“I’m pretty sure. God, it will be so boring.”
“We can make it fun, though.”
That gives Yoongi a couple of ideas. “Maybe.”
“Also—” Taehyung clears his voice. “I’ll say this only once because I don’t think I can bring myself to ever ask again.”
“I—okay?”
“Buy-me-more-lingerie.”
The sentence comes out like it’s a single word with how fast he says it.
Yoongi grins to himself. “Alright.”
Since he’s at it, he might also buy new collars. So that he can match colors. That could be fun.
And a locket for the collars too, maybe.