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Headed to Hell for the Company

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“Tae.” Jungkook reaches off the bed with his foot and pokes Taehyung's ribs, who's lying on the floor without even the energy to swat him away.

“What,” he grumbles, rolling from his back onto his side to glare up at Jungkook.

Jungkook grins sweetly. “I want ice cream.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue and rolls to face the other way. “Get it yourself.”

Frowning, Jungkook flexes his toes and this time pokes the back of Taehyung's sweaty t-shirt. “But I want to get ice cream with you.”

“No you don't. You want to watch me suffer.”

“Yeah. Okay, I do, whatever. And I want ice cream.” Jungkook's toes keep poking until Taehyung rolls back over to catch his false, enticing smile. “Please?”

Groaning, Taehyung reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a couple loose bills, throwing the crumpled paper at Jungkook. “Go buy it yourself. 'S too fucking hot.”

Jungkook's lip curls. Because this is not how this is supposed to be going. Leaving the money, he climbs off the bed and kneels next to where Taehyung is rolling on the floor, wearing loose shorts and an even looser t-shirt yet still coated in sweat.

“Tae-tae,” Jungkook whispers, a little too softly to be casual. At that, Taehyung's eyes snap open, fixing on Jungkook's coy gaze, his cute, wide eyes. His pouting bottom lip, light sheening off over where he passes his tongue, his blunt, matte black horns that protrude from beneath his ruffled hair, one of the few physical demon traits that show on him.

Being alone with Taehyung, there's no need to conceal them. Behind him, his swishy tail, now comfortably untucked from his pants, curls and sways from side to side.

“I'm seriously dying, Jungkook—” Taehyung begins, but Jungkook just rolls his eyes, not even letting him finish. Instead he swings one leg to the other side of Taehyung's body, straddling him before sitting square on his hips. “Unf—Fuck, get off, you—”

“I want ice cream,” Jungkook repeats, infuriatingly playful. Taehyung begins to struggle, muttering something about it being too fucking hot for this, but a sharp sting of concentrated heat against his neck stops him short.

“Kook,” he says carefully, a bitter warning barbed in his tone.

Yes?” Jungkook grins, his inhumanly sharp canines digging into his pillowy bottom lip. One hand is placed flat on Taehyung's chest. The other is held at Taehyung's throat, index finger extended and carefully placed right over the tender skin.

A threat? Possibly. Knowing him, though, it's more of a game. Jungkook's always loved using the hellish aspects of his abilities to torment Taehyung.

Smiling, he presses his burning index finger down onto Taehyung's pulse, like a branding. And Taehyung grits his teeth at the immense pain, feeling the flame shoot right down his spine, alight in his bloodstream. Because Jungkook is terrible. Even worse when he doesn't get what he wants.

“Can we get ice cream now?” he murmurs, pulling back the tip of his finger and removing the heat from it to instead brush back Taehyung's hair from his sweaty forehead.

“I fucking told you—Don't do that,” Taehyung growls, one hand reaching up to press against the scorched skin of his neck. But, of course, there's no lingering pain. No burn mark, no blisters. Because that's not what Jungkook had intended. He'd just wanted Taehyung to give in.

It's probably the worst mistake in the universe that Jungkook is what he is.

Tracing his finger over Taehyung's cheek, Jungkook begins to once again pull warmth to the tip of his finger. A sensation that's absolutely nothing for a half-demon like him, yet, when brought to full power, is absolutely unbearable for a human.

“Stop. Now.”

Jungkook does. He sits farther back onto Taehyung's hips, wiggling his ass just the slightest bit.

“Ice cream?” Jungkook asks, and places a slightly warmer-than-normal palm flat on Taehyung's lower abdomen, grinning to himself when he feels the guy's cock twitch in his pants.

“You don't need ice cream.”

“Yes I do,” Jungkook insists. “My heat's coming. And it always gets worse in the hot months.” Taehyung shivers as Jungkook rolls his hips down gently. Gives Taehyung the most syrupy, innocent look in the world. “You know that, right? You know how bad it gets, right?”

Taehyung knocks his head back, groaning. It's fucking forty degrees Celsius. He can't deal with this, not with the heat, not with Jungkook, not with Jungkook's impending heat. Too bad he's never had much of a choice.

When the guy in question has the power to reach body temperatures enough to melt human skin in half a second flat, you tend to try and stay on his good side.

“Fine,” Taehyung huffs. And as exasperated as he is, he can't help but smile back at the gleeful look Jungkook gives him. Lifting a hand, Taehyung pats Jungkook on the side. “You can get off me now.”

“Okay,” Jungkook says, but doesn't move. Instead, he shifts his hips a couple times more, being fairly pleased with himself as he feels Taehyung's half-hard cock twitch and poke against his ass. “You're paying, also,” he says at Taehyung's halfhearted glare, before finally getting off.

“Why do I deal with you?” Taehyung grumbles as he slowly stands up, wiping a hand over his forehead.

Jungkook cackles, wrapping a hand around Taehyung's bicep and heating up his palm for a couple seconds, not too bad to hurt, but enough to be a reminder.

“'Cause I'll probably kill you if you don't.”



“This is such fucking bull,” Taehyung groans, and leans back farther into the metal chair. They got stuck with the outdoor seats because apparently every single person in the goddamn city wanted to visit the ice cream parlour today, taking up the seats in the indoor air-conditioned environment.

That, and Jungkook had insisted they eat outside, and Taehyung can't really say no to him.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, spooning another bite of ice cream into his mouth. “So wimpy, Tae. Can't handle a bit of nice weather?”

“I wasn't born in the fiery pits of hell, is probably why.”

“I was born in Nevada, you idiot.”

“Like I said—fiery pits of hell. Who even likes Nevada, anyway? Your birthplace is a sinhole, just like you.”

“Gosh, don't talk about my sinhole in public, baby—”

“Oh my God—Stop.” The balled-up napkin clasped in Taehyung's sweaty hand gets tossed at Jungkook. “Stop. Just—That's not what I meant. Stop.”

Jungkook giggles and swallows another mouthful of ice cream. “Sure it wasn't.” Then he reaches over the table and pokes at Taehyung's plastic ice cream cup sitting on the table, not even touched. “Eat, man. What's wrong with you?”

“I'm human. I'm sweating so fucking bad right now. You don't understand, Kook. My sweat is sweating.”

“Mm. You should get that checked.”

“I should get rid of you, is what I should do.”

“I'm your boyfriend, not your pet.” Jungkook finishes off the last of his ice cream, licking at the corners of his lips, placing the empty cup onto the table. Then he reaches across and grabs Taehyung's cup of half-melted ice cream, swirling it around and collecting some on the plastic spoon. “Besides, you like having me around. How many people in the world can seriously say they've fucked a sex god?”

Jungkook holds out the spoon, smiling affectionately when Taehyung leans forward and eats the ice cream off it. He swallows, then holds up two fingers. “Two things. One: you're not a sex god, you're a sex demon, there's a difference. Two: you're only half blood in the first place. Don't flatter yourself.”

“Bla bla, who the fuck cares? I'm the most legit sort of demon you're ever gonna find on Earth, regardless. Full demons can't even live up here, they can only impregnate women from their place in hell.” Jungkook swallows a spoonful of ice cream, and then gets some more and reaches across the table to feed to Taehyung. “If you think about it, my creation was pretty much exactly like Jesus'. Just—backwards. A little.”

Alright, backwards Jesus. Whatever you say.”

“I'm serious. Gimme five years. I'll have disciples and shit. Ten and I'll be dead on the fucking cross. A millennium and people will still worship my holy ass.”

Taehyung raises an eyebrow. “I worship your ass now, although whether I'd call it holy is an entirely separate question. Aren't I enough?”

“I want piety, Tae. Devotion. Not you grinding your boner against me when you wake up hard.”

“As if you don't do the same fucking thing to me.”

“It's different when I do it. It's cute.”

“You are the furthest thing from cute,” Taehyung says, and eats another portion of ice cream from the spoon Jungkook holds out to him.

“Take that back,” Jungkook grumbles, and pokes Taehyung's cheek with the sticky, saliva-coated spoon.

“Make me,” Taehyung chuckles, meeting Jungkook's eyes with amusement and swatting the spoon gently away from his face.

“Aw, honey, I don't wanna threaten you,” Jungkook drawls, and twirls the spoon a couple times between his fingers.

“Please, you think you're that intimidating? You look like a bunny.”

“Fuck like a bunny, too.” Jungkook winks, and Taehyung gives him a deadpan expression, which he just laughs at. “Sorry, heat's coming, you know? Sex on the brain.”

“When is it not?” Taehyung huffs. “Jesus, you're real hard to keep up with, too. One day you're gonna kill me.”

“Probably.” Jungkook shrugs. “But it'll be during bomb-ass sex, so you'll really have nothing to complain about. What a way to go, too, hey? With your dick buried in the most heavenly ass on the planet?”

“Got a real high opinion of yourself there, mister.”

“And you think it's not justified?” Jungkook stops twirling the spoon, and then pinches the handle between his index finger and thumb. “Do I need to remind you?”

Taehyung chuckles, crossing him arms on the table in front of him, leaning closer to Jungkook. “Remind me of what, baby?”

“How heavenly I am,” Jungkook says, almost in a whisper, voice softened with the purest form of immorality that you could never hope to receive from a mere human. This boy lacks holiness in every single aspect, and he knows it, flaunts it.

“Maybe I could use a refresher or two.”

Or two.” Jungkook scoffs. “You think you'll even make it past one?”

And Taehyung's looking into his dark eyes, glistering with some unnatural fire that he really shouldn't feel so comfortable around, considering Jungkook and his nature and how that nature leads to a monthly state that even the guy himself can't control. But despite their locked gazes, Taehyung sees in his periphery as Jungkook briefly lets his cover go, his horns being exposed again from beneath his hair and his teeth sharpening as he smiles coyly.

Which is dangerous, out in public like this, but most likely nobody's watching to begin with.

“Careful,” Taehyung murmurs, smirking half in amusement and half at Jungkook's absolute recklessness.

“You too,” Jungkook says, voice silken and sly, and Taehyung's only partially noticing the tips of Jungkook's fingers emanating a scorching heat, the plastic of the cheap spoon turning floppy, then beginning to drip onto the table like candle wax. Until it's just a shiny puddle of thick plastic, some caked onto Jungkook's hand. He snickers. “How's that for a reminder?”

For a moment, Taehyung mock frowns and pretends to consider it for a moment. “Subpar, at best. Should I be intimidated?” Then he scrunches his nose, grinning tauntingly and resting his chin on his hand.

Jungkook clicks his tongue. “Yes. You very much should be.”

“Mm. I think I'm gonna need a bit more proof, sweetheart. Can't say you sell the whole 'killer' look very well.”

Bits of cooled plastic sprinkle off Jungkook's hand when he rubs his fingers, and he flicks some at Taehyung, chuckling when he flinches. “Oh, you'll get your proof, Daddy. I promise.”

And that part of the conversation ends there, because Taehyung's too busy choking on his spit and frantically checking to make sure that no one had heard that to respond, and Jungkook is too busy laughing at him.



Two days go by, and nothing happens. Taehyung just gets more and more on edge, mostly because Jungkook is no better. Nearing his heat, he gets worse and worse at keeping his general demon-ness in check.

His horns and teeth will unwittingly begin showing while in public, his tail sneaking out from his pants, where he usually keeps it curled around his upper thigh, and he won't even notice until Taehyung had a mild panic attack and pulls him away to the nearest wall or corner, frantically checking him over to make sure he's hidden his traits properly again while making sure to spit every synonym for the word idiot known to man. You're freaking out too much, Jungkook will say, rolling his eyes, and Taehyung will just respond, I'm not getting caught hanging out with a fucking child of the underworld, thank you very much.

And not to mention the skyrocketing temperatures.

It's one thing that Jungkook will occasionally get flares of mild arousal throughout his day that only get increasingly frequent as his heat approaches, but it's an entirely separate thing when the humid, summer air clings to his skin and amplifies the boiling of his body.

Like right now—with Jungkook and Taehyung sitting on the bus, this sweltering, old city bus whose only air conditioning is the single cracked window somewhere in the back. To say Jungkook is dying would be a massive understatement.

“Tae—” he chokes, and presses his thighs tighter together.

“Mm,” Taehyung hums, tapping away at some game on his phone. Really, sometimes the guy is so fucking attuned to Jungkook he'll notice and annoyingly point out when his breathing might seem a little more demonic than usual, and other times the guy is so daft Jungkook's goddamn father could rise up onto Earth and he probably wouldn't even bat an eye, would probably just nod and mutter something like, yeah, babe, I'm listening, mm-hm.

“Agh—Tae,” he tries again, trying to keep his voice down, to not actually put this situation into words. They're the only ones sitting in the back section of the bus, but who knows how well sound carries in this thing. The last thing he wants is some innocent bystander up at the front hearing some half-demon boy spouting some absolutely sinful rhetoric like Daddy, my asshole's dripping for your cock, I need you, please.

It's a terribly fearful moment when Jungkook feels his tail, tucked beneath his leg, jerk and begin to pull. He adjusts his seating position, trying to keep the thing pinned beneath his thigh, but that only rubs his rapidly hardening cock over the insides of his boxers and makes him curl forward into the barely-there pleasure. Again, he clamps his thighs together, but his hips rut forward into absolutely nothing, just seeking any sort of relief.

And he's not even realizing his tail at this point, which has long since snuck out from his waistband, going immediately to reach for Taehyung's general direction, curling around his forearm.

What?” Taehyung swats at his tail, the implications of what it being out really means not quite catching up to him yet, while he doesn't even look up from his phone. “Look, I'm so fucking close to beating my high score, like fuck, look at this shit—”

Please,” Jungkook snaps, tone half-broken but irritated enough to get Taehyung to look up. “Stop being a fucking idiot, Jesus Christ, please.”

“Wh—” Taehyung blinks at him for a moment, the flashing screen of his phone eventually going black and displaying a game over. And he catches on—the sheen of sweat along Jungkook's hairline which never occurs simply in hot temperatures like it does in humans, but only during times like these, to the blatantly exposed black fur of Jungkook's tail now snaking around his wrist. “Uh—fuck, Kook—”

Jungkook tries to say something, but the bus hits a bump on the road, and that sentence ends as a garbled whine as his body lurches with the movement. His hands move in front of him to catch him, gripping tight onto the seat in front of him, and his head dips so he's looking at the floor, panting. A bit of drool falls from the plushest part of his bottom lip, and he has to put immense conscious effort into closing his mouth.

“Hey,” Taehyung murmurs, and puts one palm on Jungkook's shoulder, the other on his chest to bring him back to sitting up straight. Really, that's only making it infinitely worse. Because the one thing in this entire world that Jungkook's body needs right now is Taehyung, and the guy's so fucking close while at the same time being so infuriatingly unattainable, and his proximity is just flaunting this fact.

Jungkook doesn't know the exact laws for demonic pre-heat sex in the back of a public transportation vehicle, but he does have a pretty good idea of what they might involve.

“Are you—” Taehyung begins, leaving his warm hands on Jungkook's body and worriedly looking to the front of the bus, scanning to make sure no one's looking. Listening. Paying any sort of attention.

“No. Yes. Fuck,” Jungkook whispers, one of those angry, tense whispers that only sound like bottled-up fury. Or bottled-up, ten-tonne explosive arousal. Anyways.

“Just—shh for a sec,” Taehyung murmurs, and begins to unwind Jungkook's tail from his wrist, which is now curled so tight it's almost painful. But he should have known better than that, after all these years of knowing Jungkook, of knowing what such a touch might do. His tail's a hot button. Taehyung should know that.

But Taehyung's sort of busy freaking out about his half-demon boyfriend losing control in public, his concentration and cover getting shot to shit, his horns fully grown out, albeit thankfully short because of his mixed blood, and his tail swishing and curling right out in the open. Like he's just begging to get caught. And who knows what that might entail.

So they're both a bit flustered, to say the least.

Ungh—” Jungkook whimpers and his tail jerks violently in Taehyung's grip. His hands are still holding onto the seat in front of him, tense biceps bulging. “No, that's—ah—”

“Stop—moving your tail so much,” Taehyung snips, grabbing it lower down with one hand, the other still holding onto the tip, keeping it steady.

“You think this is on fucking purpose?” Jungkook yell-whispers back, throat dry, voice strained.

His cock's hard. He wonders if Taehyung knows this. He's dripping, too. Does Taehyung know? That hand near the base of his tail, the other brushing a thumb over the tip while holding it below the public's line of sight. Does the guy know what that's doing to him?

Of course he fucking does.

“You okay?” Taehyung says lowly, and and rubs his thumb up and down the upper end of Jungkook's tail, flicks across the longer fur at the top.

“No. Stop that,” he grits, and his ass squirms in his seat. But the thing is, they've done this before. Usually they'll be more cautious around Jungkook's heats, careful not to be out in public too long, if at all, but sometimes there are just errands that have to be taken care of, and something happens outside the comfort of their home. And his tail just happens to be a good, discrete sort of way to solve that.

Besides, Jungkook's usually so wound up to begin with, it's rarely a problem that lasts too long.

“Why?” There's a ribbing smile poking at Taehyung's lips, and he fiddles with Jungkook's tail some more. Then he tugs gently, forcing a sharp breath from Jungkook, shaking as he tries to control it. “Is it bothering you?”

He squirms, his hand wanting so desperately to press down onto the straining bulge in his pants, to rub himself there until he comes in his boxers like a dirty, desperate boy. But Taehyung probably wouldn't let him, he knows, because Taehyung sort of has a thing for Jungkook's tail, especially in public. Not that Jungkook minds much, because he, too, has a mild thing for his tail.

“No,” he grumbles, and settles back into his seat, letting go of the chair in favour of wrapping his hands around Taehyung's bicep as he leans against the guy, his sturdy chest and the comfortable warmth of his body. For moral support. Or whatever.

And Taehyung continues to stoke his tail, the hand at the base letting go as it stops twisting so much in his grip, instead moving to massage slow circles into Jungkook's upper thigh.

“There you go,” Taehyung murmurs reassuringly, doing his best to seem in control about all this while his eyes still flicker nervously around the bus, just making sure. Jungkook, in contrast, couldn't give two shits about the state of their surroundings. Because this feels so fucking good, and it's so wrong, and it's so perfect.

He spreads his thighs, wincing when he feels that the uncomfortable wetness from his asshole has spread between his thighs, dampening the backs of his pants. Burying his face into Taehyung's shoulder, he tries his best to muffle his loudly hitching breaths and choked moans, biting the sleeve of Taehyung's t-shirt when his thumb tweaks the tip of his tail just right.

Ah—fuck—” He squirms, shocks of pleasure buzzing through him, overwhelming heat spreading and pooling in his lower belly. “Daddy,” he moans, and then smirks to himself when he feels Taehyung's punched-out breath from above. Then he lifts his head to nuzzle into Taehyung's neck, and gently nips the skin there with his too-sharp teeth.

All that playing gets him another harsh tug on his tail, and a broken groan tears its way up from his throat. Taehyung quickly glances around the bus again, and then growls down at Jungkook's fucked-out and delirious yet still taunting sneer.

“Shut up,” he grunts, and the hand on Jungkook's thigh moves up, up, up, until it's pressing down so kindly on his erection, while his fingers keep playing with his tail. Jungkook's hips buck up, and his fingers tense, digging into Taehyung's arm.

“Fuck—Daddy, I—” He's doubled over in the overload of pleasure coursing throughout his body, and he's so hot, burning from head to toe, and Taehyung's hands are doing such wonderful things to make it all better, to make him feel so good. “I think—think I'm gonna, oh—”

“Mm-hm, you can come,” Taehyung whispers into Jungkook's ear, and Jungkook's almost sobbing, his orgasm scorching his nerves as he muffles his silly sounds in the crook of Taehyung's neck, body trembling and jolting as his come spurts into his boxers, that filthy wetness combining with the lubrication from his ass that's smeared everywhere.

“Good boy,” Taehyung says quietly, letting go of his tail and petting the inside of his thigh as Jungkook tenses and grips his arm hard enough to hurt. Some wetness has soaked through the fabric of his pants, partially soiling the seat as well, which is pretty nasty. What a pubic disturbance these two are.

“Taehyung,” Jungkook breathes once the shudders stop wracking his body, and relaxes against Taehyung's shoulder. As he slowly regains some semblance of control, the horns once again disappear beneath his hair and his tail tucks back into his pants. “Taehyung,” he says again, softer this time, and looks up at him with glassy, contented eyes. And Taehyung's heart almost melts, just almost. That is, until something predatory flickers in Jungkook's expression, and the next thing he knows that hand grasping his arm starts burning with the heat of a thousand suns.

Shit—” Taehyung rips his arm back, pushing Jungkook toward the window in an abrupt, knee-jerk reaction to the scorching pain flowering on his skin. The minute Jungkook lets go, all that pain dissipates in an instant. “Wh—the fuck, why?”

“Sorry.” Jungkook titters, leaning tiredly against the bus window, and lifts a hand to slightly cover his wicked grin. “I can't control it, you know? The heat.”

“Yeah?” Taehyung scowls, and Jungkook smiles back innocently. “You piece of shit.”

“You said you wanted proof, didn't you? So I just wanted to prove it to you.”

“Mm. Prove what?”

Leaning in closer, Jungkook winds his fingers into Taehyung's soft hair, pulling gently. Getting close, not enough to be publicly unacceptable but close enough that something stirs in Taehyung's stomach. Jungkook's eyelashes flutter, and he smirks. “Prove what I can do to you, Daddy.”

Taehyung's lips part to say something, but no words actually come out.

“Really. And you know it only gets worse, Daddy. The heat.” Jungkook fakes a pout. “You're gonna help me, right? Promise?”

“I—” The bus lurches, and Taehyung can't look away from Jungkook's suffocating gaze. Squinting slightly, Jungkook looks at Taehyung challengingly, and Taehyung glares back.

“Our stop,” Jungkook murmurs, and the soft rush of his breath flows over Taehyung's lips. It takes him a couple seconds for him to process what Jungkook said, and when he finally blinks and looks up, out the window, there's something like triumph sparkling in Jungkook's eyes.

“Right,” Taehyung mutters, and stands up quickly. And he's the slightest bit ticked off right now, but he's at least kind enough to take out his sweater from his back pack, silently handing it to Jungkook so he can tie is around his waist to hide the embarrassing wetness of his pants.

“Thanks.” He scrunches his nose, smiling some more and making sure to let his cover fall the slightest bit so the sharpest parts of his teeth are bared.

They both know what he's implying. A shiver passes over Taehyung's skin, a weak electrical current of horrible anticipation. Perhaps excitement, or a charged thrill. Because demons are schemers. Their children are surely no different.



“Wake up.”

Taehyung's a deep sleeper, and Jungkook hates this fact. And while it's true that Jungkook is an even deeper sleeper than Taehyung, being nearly impossible for Taehyung to wake when they actually have things to do, Jungkook likes to say it doesn't count, because he's cute as hell, and he's not even human, so human rules don't get to apply. Taehyung says this is unfair, but really, he should be the first person to know the last thing on Jungkook's agenda is surrendering to the cause of fairness.

“Wake up,” Jungkook tries again, this time wiggling his hips.

Taehyung groans beneath him and tries to roll over, but the entirety of Jungkook's weight is pinning him down. The boy's got his knees digging into the mattress on either side of Taehyung, using the leverage that provides him to rub his perfect bubble butt down onto Taehyung's crotch.

“I want—” He doesn't even know. All Jungkook knows is he's burning, getting consumed from the inside out by the only sort of heat that he'll never, no matter how hard he tries, be able to handle. Because he might be able to handle rippling, Saharan climates with ease, and he might be able to manipulate his own body temperature to drastic degrees, but that sort of heat is nothing. Utterly nothing compared to this.

“Mm—F—” Taehyung mumbles something and turns his head to the side to smush his cheek into his pillow. His hands reach for Jungkook and bat weakly at his sides. “G—rgh, go to sleep.”

“I can't,” Jungkook snips. One of his heels dig harshly into the side of Taehyung's thigh, and the guy jumps, finally showing some form of response. “I'm—I need—” And he's cut off by a high whine when he grinds his hips down again, pressing his clothed erection firmly against Taehyung's lower abdomen, his hands flying out onto Taehyung's body to catch himself from falling forward.

Taehyung's eyes are fluttering open, his tongue lazily licking his dry lips, and one hand's rubbing at one of his eyes. That stops, though, when he sees Jungkook.

Jungkook knows how he looks. How wrecked. His blunt horns peeking out from beneath his sleep-wrought hair, those loose, sweaty strands that fall over his forehead and stick to the sides of his face. His tail swishing impatiently behind him, poking out from the loose elastic of his pyjama bottoms. The terrible flush pinking his cheeks, his skin burning all over.

Daddy,” Jungkook pleads, and rolls his hips, palms rubbing over Taehyung's hard stomach. He tries again, “Come on, it hurts. I just—Heat.”

“Really? Now?” Taehyung grumbles. His tired eyes blink as he focuses on Jungkook, but he sighs and brings his hands to Jungkook's hips, adding some solid fluidity to their erratic motion. A pleased sigh escapes Jungkook's throat, a small aspect of comfort coming over him because, finally, Taehyung's awake. Taehyung's giving him attention. Taehyung will give him what he wants.

“Yes, now.” Already, Jungkook can feel the hot fluid leaking from his asshole, soaking the insides of his soft pants. “I can't—ngh—can't fucking control this. You know that—shit—”

“But it's like, nine AM. On a fucking Sunday. Your biological clock is a jerk.” As much as he's complaining, though, Jungkook can already feel the growing hardness of Taehyung's cock as he grinds frantically down onto it.

“Actually, it's eight thirty—ish.” He winks, or at least tries his best to look flirty considering his state. “If we hurry, I bet we can make it for morning Mass.”

“Goody.” Taehyung rolls his eyes and begins rubbing slow circles into Jungkook's waist with one hand while the other steadily guides his hips. “Make it quick, then. The Lord is calling.”

“Hm. And who are we to make Him wait?” Jungkook laughs, tone going weak at the end when Taehyung slightly grinds his hips up against his ass. “Fuck, just—are you hard yet? Jesus, I need you hard. Now. Rock fucking hard.”

“I'm getting there, Christ,” Taehyung says, and chuckles at Jungkook's impatience. “How do you wanna do this?”

“Cuffs,” Jungkook says without a moment's thought. “Riding. Want your—want your big cock in me like that, Daddy, wanna fucking bounce on it, want it pounding into my asshole—.”

“Jesus—Okay, okay, where are they?”

“Cuffs?” Taehyung nods, and Jungkook nibbles on his lip for a second. “I dunno.”


“Sorry, whatever,” he grumbles. “You used 'em last, anyway. Where'd you put them?”

“Probably with the other shit. Did you even check?”

“No, actually. I woke up with the fires of Lucifer burning my fucking insides, I sort of couldn't find the time, you know?”

“I don't need your sass.”

“I don't need yours,” Jungkook huffs, and forces his hips to stop moving to lean over to the bedside table's drawer and rummage through it. Sure enough, he finds the cuffs, buried beneath the anal beads, butt plugs, and assortment of dildos. The keys are probably there, too, hidden somewhere in it all, but Jungkook frankly doesn't have the patience right now. He puts the cuffs to the side, for later.

Jungkook begins rocking his hips again, and the motions quickly gets desperate, too worked up for his own good. His cock, painfully hard and leaking, smears precome all over the insides of the thin fabric of his bottoms, because he never wears underwear when he sleeps. Sometimes he even doesn't in public, just because he knows it gives Taehyung a thrill when he pulls the guy's hand discretely into his pants while they're out and about and he feels Jungkook's cock hanging loose beneath the single layer of clothing.

Normally even pyjamas are a rare occurrence. Of course, this has to be the one occasion when he actually bothers to go to sleep clothed.

“Fuck,” he whimpers, and his voice cracks weakly when Taehyung begins palming at his crotch.

“Wanna take off your shirt for me, baby?” Taehyung murmurs, the hand above Jungkook's hipbone slowly lifting the hem of his shirt, rubbing at the revealed skin. “Show me your tight fucking body, hm?”

A rush of air escapes Jungkook's lips, and he feels a dangerous heat build at the tips of his fingers. He nods, and deliberately pulls his hands away from Taehyung's chest to instead work at lifting his shirt over his head. Because it's always Jungkook's hands, it seems, whose skin he loses control over the quickest.

“You too,” Jungkook says when he's thrown his shirt to the side, and quickly shucks off Taehyung's loose shirt, the guy's hands having to leave Jungkook's body to allow it. Immediately after, though, he brings his hand back down to massage Jungkook's dick through his pants. In response, his hips buck forward abruptly, trying to fuck into the maddeningly loose, just-short-of-enough pleasure of Taehyung's grip through the fabric.

The one thing of many that Jungkook hates about his heats is the sweat. Because in his daily life, he's never had to deal with it, such a nasty human concept, a bodily fluid that doesn't even involve the fun parts like come does. Heat, as a general aspect of temperature, has never been a problem for him. But these heats are of an entirely different variety.

And that sweat that he hates so much drips from his forehead, down the lean slope of his neck, sheening along his chest as he rocks his hips into Taehyung's hand.

“Fuck, everything hurts,” Jungkook murmurs, voice rough and broken. “It's so hot.”

“Here—give,” Taehyung murmurs, and then reaches around and—fuck, grabs Jungkook's swishing tail right near the base, then drags his hand over its length before reaching the tip and toying with the soft, thicker tuft of fur at the tip.

“H—ah, Tae—” Jungkook's thighs clamp around Taehyung's sides, and he feels a bit more slick spill from his hole, soaking through the fabric and onto Taehyung. “Keep going. Fuck, that feels so good, keep going, Daddy, please make it better—”

“Mm-hm, I've got you, hun.” Taehyung pets along Jungkook's tail, letting the boy grind against his hand and get closer and closer to the edge, body taut and quivering. Sitting up, shifting Jungkook a bit farther back on his thighs, Taehyung mouths down Jungkook's heaving chest and latches his mouth around a nipple, humming when it makes his back arch lewdly and release a clipped gasp, and then pokes a finger beneath the waistband of Jungkook's loose pants before reaching in and wrapping a hand around his drooling cock before pulling it out.

Pumping slowly, once, twice, thumb pressing against the pulsing vein along the underside and playing beneath the head, getting all the spots he knows make Jungkook absolutely lose his goddamn mind, while at the same time running his fingers through the fur of Jungkook's thrashing tail, now moving with a complete mind of its own.

“Fuck, Daddy,” Jungkook grits, and he clenches his teeth together, feeling the animalistic urge to bite onto something, anything.

Then Taehyung's gently letting his teeth toy with the hard, sensitive bud of Jungkook's baby pink nipple, delivering a particularly harsh tug to his tail, and—oh, God, it feels so fucking good, and Jungkook's tail snaps straight, hips rutting up into Taehyung's warm hand.

“Shit, shit—wanna come—”

Taehyung's mouth releases his nipple with a pop, and he hums and snickers, “No one's stopping you, baby,” before sucking at the other one.

And Jungkook's thighs tense, body curling inward with pleasure washing over his senses as he slams face-first into the first orgasm of his heat, letting out a shattered moan with his pink lips parted, slick with spit. His hot come splatters all over Taehyung's naked chest and onto the guy's bony knuckles, slicking along Jungkook's dick as Taehyung pumps him through his release, his deep voice cooing reassurances and praise, that's right, come for Daddy, yeah, you're such a good boy.

And after that, Jungkook feels a little better. Less hot, less stifled. Like he can actually breathe, actually think. But it's not going to last, he knows. Hell, he's not even getting the slightest bit soft after coming.

Quickly, he tilts Taehyung's face up with a hand under the chin, kissing him open and sloppy, hot and wet. Taehyung parts his lips and lets Jungkook desperately lick into his mouth, moving his sure hands to Jungkook's hips and steadying him as he starts rutting up against Taehyung again.

“When you said cuffs,” Taehyung begins, his mumbled words getting constantly interrupted by Jungkook's insistent lips, “did you mean me or you?”

“You,” Jungkook responds immediately, and pulls back a bit to look Taehyung in the eyes. He's frowning back in disapproval, chewing on the tip of his tongue. And Jungkook understands why. Because they both know how Jungkook gets during his heats. How reckless, how high-strung and galvanized to the fucking core.

How dangerous.

So Jungkook understands Taehyung's hesitation, sure. But that doesn't mean he cares.

“You promised you'd help me,” he simpers, and reaches for the cuffs he'd left on the table. Not taking his eyes off Taehyung's, he fiddles with the silver D-ring and the buckles, unlatching them before grabbing Taehyung by the wrists and pulling his hands above his head. He smiles when Taehyung begrudgingly complies and shifts his body farther down onto the bed, going back to lying down. With his face close, their lips almost touching, Jungkook's eyelids flutter and he softly breathes, “So help me.”

Taehyung's lip curls into a snarl, but, again, he's never been able to say no to Jungkook. Especially not in times like these, when the boy's oozing liquid sex from his gaze, his lips glossy and parted, shallows breaths getting quicker as he slowly grinds his erection against Taehyung's abs, smearing his come around.

“I never promised anything,” Taehyung says, because he remembers he'd been particularly careful not to. In his experience, Jungkook's loved to use his words against him.

“Oh, really?” Jungkook hums disinterestedly, and secures the leather cuffs around Taehyung's wrists, extending the short chains from the D-rings to the headboard. “That's too bad.”

Taehyung sighs. “Brat. You feeling better now, is that it?”

“A bit.” Jungkook grins innocently, watching Taehyung's eyes flicker to the sharp edge of his teeth. “I still need you to fuck me, though.”


“Mm-hm.” He leans in and captures Taehyung's lips in a quick kiss, still having his hands secured above him. “Need it real bad, Daddy. I'm so fucking wet for you, so hot, Jesus. Need you to fuck me, use me, need you to make it hurt.”

So the latch of the cuffs click, and Taehyung doesn't even struggle. Just lets his shoulders relax, lifting his hips when Jungkook scoots back and works at getting his pants off, before quickly removing his own. He hops back into Taehyung's lap, settling comfortably over his erection and feeling a giddy skip of his heart when Taehyung bucks up, grinding his length into the wet crack between Jungkook's pert asscheeks.

“You're eager,” Jungkook comments, and trails a finger down Taehyung's chest, who shivers in response.

“You're one to talk, nympho.” Taehyung scoffs, pushing his hips up a bit more. “Wanna get on with it? You woke me up for this shit.”

“Don't act like you don't love it,” Jungkook mutters, and lifts himself onto his knees so he can reach beneath his ass. “When I'm needy.”

Taehyung clicks his tongue, and just watches as Jungkook smiles and gently uses one hand to pry one cheek out of the way, circling a finger around his wet, fluttering asshole with his other hand. The muscle loosens and tightens, a bit more slick spilling out and coating his fingers at the anticipation of finally getting something inside him. A small, involuntary moan tumbles from his lips as he quickly shoves a finger in, that ring of muscle sucking it in immediately.

Oh,” he whimpers, and shuts his eyes. A fierce heat cuts through his body, and before he knows it, he's accidentally letting the arousal scorch along the surface of his skin.

Agh—Ow,” Taehyung snips beneath him, and jerks as the insides of Jungkook's thighs burn his hips. “Don't do that.”

Normally when Jungkook loses control of his body temperature, Taehyung might gently smack at him, or push him out of the way before the heat gets too bad. But Taehyung's bound and pinned down by Jungkook's weight, not to mention Jungkook's stronger, more muscular than him. There's nothing he can do.

“Shut up, you wuss,” Jungkook sneers, and wilfully lets his thighs heat up a bit more, watching as Taehyung winces with his eyebrows pulling together in pain, before Jungkook forces that skin back to a normal human temperature. “You can handle it. You know you can.”

Taehyung says nothing, and just growls up at Jungkook. But behind the irritation, there's a thick, hazy sort of quality hidden in his eyes, in the heated way he looks up at Jungkook while the boy wiggles a finger around in his sopping hole. And that look—Jungkook recognizes it, loves it. Knows what Taehyung feels, the anticipation for what's coming, the pain, the pleasure.

Because Jungkook will often get that same feeling, maybe during those times when Taehyung will have Jungkook forcefully bent over, his palm gently stroking over the smooth skin of Jungkook's ass, and he'll whisper something about how fucking hard he's gonna spank him, how he'll make him cry. It's that hazy feeling, the warmth of submission. And Taehyung rarely lets it show, but again, he's never been able to deny Jungkook what he wants. And, oh, how Jungkook wants. Especially during his heats.

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins, and pulls against the restraints around his wrists. The metal clanks unforgivingly. “Hurry up.”

“I am,” Jungkook presses a second finger into himself, and his cock twitches, beads of precome welling to the reddened tip and dripping onto Taehyung. His thighs flex as he fucks down onto his hand, and he lets out a rushed breath of pleasure when he begins to scissor them, stretching the tense ring of muscle. Sweat collects along his sharp collarbone, dripping down his lean neck, over the hot blush along his skin. Beneath him, Taehyung watches, enraptured, absentmindedly thrusting his hips upward and letting his leaking cock rub across Jungkook's plump asscheeks.

“Daddy,” Jungkook whines, his motions stuttering when he curls his fingers, thighs trembling as he brushes over that perfect spot inside him. A wrecked moan tears its way up from his throat, and he quickly works a third finger into himself, the slick muscle squelching crudely. “Daddy, it's so good, it feels so good—”

Taehyung's hips rut upwards at Jungkook's words, and he growls lowly in his throat. His arms tense against the restraints, biceps flexing as he pulls, the leather of the cuffs digging into his wrists.

“You look so fucking pretty, baby,” he murmurs, his voice rough and strained. There's nothing he wants more than to get his hands free, to flip Jungkook over and fuck into him till he's a crying, screaming mess. But the cuffs are ever-present around his wrists, and frankly, he's always found it pretty hot when Jungkook would take some semblance of control in times like these.

Jungkook opens his eyes, meeting Taehyung's gaze with delirious, glassy eyes.

“Yeah?” he prompts, doing his best to look cocky despite the overwhelming, scalding pleasure coursing through his blood. “You like it, Daddy? You like how good your baby boy looks for you?”

“You know I do, Kookie,” Taehyung breathes hurriedly.

Then Jungkook reaches down, the other hand still pumping into him, and he grips Taehyung's cock, purring when he grunts and jerks his hips into his hold.“You want to fuck me, Daddy? Hm?” And he strokes slowly, letting his fingers roll over the wet tip before moving back down to the base. “'Cause I want you to fuck me. Want you to fuck me hard, want to get your big cock deep inside me, want you to make me feel good.

Then he removes his fingers, wincing slightly, before he presses the blunt tip of Taehyung's cock right against his gaping hole. But he doesn't put it in.

“Feel that, Daddy? Feel how I'm all opened up just for you?”

“Fuck, Kook—” Taehyung shudders, and he involuntarily bucks his hips upward, pushing slightly into the tight heat of Jungkook's asshole before he remembers he should probably behave, and lets his hips fall back onto the bed. But Jungkook's tutting, frowning in disapproval, and he removes his hand from being wrapped around the base of Taehyung's cock to instead push flat against his lower belly. A threat.

“Daddy,” Jungkook warns. “Did I say you could do that?”

Taehyung huffs, rolling his eyes. “Whatever. Just come on, you fucking tease.”

“No.” Jungkook's bottom lip sticks out in a pout, and Taehyung raises an incredulous eyebrow. “Take me seriously for once, will you?”

And before Taehyung can say anything, Jungkook forces heat to the surface of his palm, feeling the heat bloom across the skin. It doesn't affect him. But it does affect Taehyung, who yelps and jolts, abs tensing as he tries to twist away from the pain. Jungkook leaves his palm there, watching with delight as Taehyung squeezes his eyes shut, throwing his head back, the tan skin of his long neck dripping sweat, flushed a mild red.

Then Jungkook stops, and the pain leaves Taehyung as abruptly as it had come.

“What the fuck?” He jostles his torso to knock Jungkook off, but Jungkook just squeezes him with his thighs, and then bring a hand back down to play around his rim, giggling at Taehyung's indignant expression.

“Shut up,” he breathes, and shoves those three fingers right back inside himself, rolling his hips down as he quickly finds his prostate. “Shut up, Taehyung. You like it. You know you do.”

And Taehyung just groans, his eyes locked onto Jungkook's dick, precome dribbling from the tip as his fingers disappear inside himself.

“That's not fair,” Taehyung grumbles. “Your black magic shit.”

“Well maybe you should've been born half-demon.”

“Maybe I should date someone who isn't an asshole.”

“Maybe,” Jungkook laughs softly, but it melts into a feeble whimper when he gets a good angle, massaging his prostate in smooth circles, feeling the pleasure burn his entire body. His body temperature's rising steadily, he knows, but it's never been something he could control very well during his heats to begin with. That, and he loves how Taehyung reacts to it.

Nngh—Daddy, I—” He pants, breaths coming in quick, sharp huffs as he rocks down onto his fingers. Beneath him, Taehyung's tugging against the restraints, groaning as he watches Jungkook pleasure himself, watching him come apart on his own fingers.

“Yeah, good boy,” Taehyung groans. His hands itch to pet across the tense muscle of Jungkook's thighs, to soothe across his flexing abs and wrap around his cock, because he wants to make his baby boy feel good. But, again, he's helpless with the cuffs on. Instead, he just murmurs praise, trying his best to ignore the almost painful hardness of his cock, how it pulses and drips each time Jungkook moans, so gorgeous, so filthy.

“Daddy, I wanna—oh—”

At that, Taehyung almost rolls his eyes, because he's the one tied down, and Jungkook shouldn't be asking for any sort of go-ahead. Maybe it's just instinct.

And he chuckles, but Taehyung still says reassuringly, “Go ahead, baby. Come for Daddy.”

“Oh, Godhn—” And then Jungkook does, comes so fucking hard with his asshole clenching tight around his fingers as he moans and cries out how it feels so good, his cock pulsing and shooting come onto the mess he'd left on Taehyung's chest from his previous orgasm. His body temperature shoots up a bit, and somewhere beyond the pleasure, he feels Taehyung hiss at the burn. But he doesn't care, and just rides out the sensations as the last of his come dribbles down the length of his still rock-hard shaft.

Ah,” he breathes weakly, and pulls his fingers out, scrunching his nose when his asshole closes in around the emptiness. “Oh, Daddy, I need you, I need you in me, now, please, oh—”

“Fuck, go for it, then.” Taehyung's half-teasing, but he's also beyond desperate at this point. Jungkook's always the worst about making him wait, while going through a good number of orgasms himself, because demons in heat apparently don't know what fatigue is, and the brat's never been what you might call generous.

Jungkook scrambles up, settling over Taehyung, doing his best to steady himself and line up Taehyung's cock despite his trembling body. And he sinks down, his tight, wet hole opening up to swallow Taehyung's dick, greedy and desperate to be filled.

“God, yes, that feels—Daddy, that feels so good, your cock's so fucking big, Jesus Christ—oh—”

Agh—Fuck,” Taehyung grits, the veins of his arms showing as they pull against the cuffs, desperate to grab onto Jungkook and tug him down onto his cock. Then Jungkook bottoms out, the strong muscle of his asshole engulfing him and quivering as he relaxes, even more wetness spilling from Jungkook's hole to between his asscheeks and all over the tops of Taehyung's thighs.

“God,” he mumbles, and wiggles his hips, his head thrown back in pleasure.

Taehyung laughs, despite the strain in his voice. “Stop taking the Lord's name in vain. You're literally a hellspawn.”

“Shut up.” Jungkook chuckles, and rolls his hips, feeling the heady shift of Taehyung's cock inside him, pushing against and stretching his walls. “I'll do what I want.”

And he pushes his hand flat against Taehyung's lower belly again, sending a shock of heat to the palm, just for kicks, making him scream, body curling tight. Mostly in pain, but then again, pain and pleasure have often been indistinguishable from one another.

“F—Ung—Jungkook, he scolds, but Jungkook just giggles and does it again, watching Taehyung grit his teeth, eyes watering the slightest bit.

“Do you like that?” Jungkook goads sweetly.

“Fuck you,” Taehyung spits, and thrashes against the holds around his wrists, probably leaving bruises which Jungkook will later kiss apologetically. Right now, though, apology is the last thing on his mind. Then Taehyung glares up at Jungkook, but the look melts into something a bit more compliant when Jungkook looks back at him with soft, rounded eyes, slowly rocking his hips.

“Shut up,” Jungkook breathes. “I know you like it. Love it.”

His hand, again, burns the skin of Taehyung's stomach. It's not the sort of heat that lingers, but feels infinitely worse only in the moment. An unsurprisingly hellish sort of heat. One that makes Taehyung feel dizzy. Feel lightheaded.

Feel good.

He snarls, but his eyelids flutter when Jungkook pushes his ass up before sinking back down onto Taehyung's cock again, their eyes locked, like a dare. How much can you take?

“You're such a fucking slut for pain, Daddy. I'm supposed to be the slut, your dirty little whore, you know?” Reaching forward, Jungkook tickles a finger beneath Taehyung's chin, looking pleased when Taehyung can do nothing but let him tilt his chin up slightly. “But you sound so damn pretty when you scream. I think I wanna hear it more.”

And—fuck, it burns. Burns so fucking bad, the pain blooming across his entire body as Jungkook get so fucking hot, and the boy doesn't even care a single bit.

“Demons like pretty things, you know? So scream for me, Daddy.” Taehyung's cock works in and out of his squeezing hole as Jungkook moves back and forth, fast and getting faster. “Please?”

“I—fuck, I hate you,” Taehyung grunts, and swallows hard, his throat dry. His reactions to the heat of Jungkook's skin is violent, raw. And Jungkook, of course, revels in it.

He smiles at the tears that well in Taehyung's eyes, smiles even more as he shuts them tight and a few drops trail down his cheeks.

“You're crying, Daddy,” Jungkook whispers, and leans down to kiss him with his searing mouth, his entire body alight. Not too hot for a human to handle, but hot enough that it's near excruciating.

“Go to hell,” Taehyung just growls back, doing his best to focus his half-gone, rolling glare on Jungkook.

That makes Jungkook laugh, but it ends with a broken moan when Taehyung aggressively thrusts his hips up, pounding into Jungkook so his body curls forward and his hands push on Taehyung's chest even harder to support himself, thus burning Taehyung even worse.

“You piece of shit,” Taehyung snarls, and Jungkook just whines, his hips rutting down and fucking himself onto Taehyung's cock. “You fucking brat, God—”

It feels so, mind-blowingly good. Jungkook can barely think, trying to say something only to have it come out as delirious, whiplashed moans as he stutters some incoherent sentence around them. And Taehyung's dick's hitting right there, pounding against his prostate and making him sob.

“Daddy,” he whimpers, and bounces his hips with the rough rhythm they've got going, shocks of pleasure coursing through his entire body and making him heat up even worse. Briefly, he finds himself worried that he might completely lose control, that he might hurt Taehyung worse than he means to. But he can't even focus on that. Not with the intoxicating pressure of roughly getting fucked open, making him get even wetter, moan even louder, the slick push and pull as Jungkook loses his mind on Taehyung's cock.

“Fuck, baby,” Taehyung groans, and his head knocks back, extending the graceful arch of his neck. Jungkook nods frantically and whines something in response, just trying to agree; it feels so, so good. “Shit, you're so—so fucking tight, all wet for me, Jesus Christ. So fucking hot, Jungkook—Gh—

“God, Tae—there, that feels so good, I—Oh, fuck—” Jungkook gets louder each time he rolls his clenching heat down onto Taehyung, feeling the amazing sensation of his thick cock slamming against his prostate, so fucking rough and unbridled and purely animal, how his body's burning, how he's sweating so much, hair wet against his forehead and chest and cheeks flushed a pretty pink.

Taehyung's in pain, and Jungkook knows it. Loves it. The guy's got his head thrown back against the pillows as Jungkook rides him, and the occasional tear will leave a trail down his cheek as the heat of Jungkook's body overwhelms him, but it's such a fucking sight, one that makes Jungkook just drool at how out of his mind Taehyung looks, all because his baby boy's making him feel so good.

A weird sense of pride, of satisfaction, fills Jungkook, and he's so gone by now that he doesn't even realize how close he is to coming until he's right on the brink, a ball of pleasure curled tight in his belly.

Fuck, Daddy, I'm—” He grunts, and fucks down desperately onto Taehyung's cock, getting it deeper inside him, wanting to be so good for him. Wanting to be filled, used and pumped full of come so he's dripping from his tight, sopping asshole like a dirty little whore.

Ah, yeah, you close, baby?” Taehyung's voice is so deep, so wrecked, and Jungkook hiccups a moan as Taehyung ruts his hips up, the slapping of their sweaty skin, coated with Jungkook's slick, getting louder.

“Yeah, I—hn—” And he whines, feeling his skin scorch and hopelessly trying to quell the heat, but Taehyung doesn't even seem to mind it. In fact, he seems to like it. Jungkook watches as Taehyung's back arches, sweat soaking his hair and shimmering along his chest, his plump lips parted as he pants, rough groans spilling from his lips, his eyes dark and his pupils blown as he watches Jungkook ride him.

“Gonna come from this, baby? Gonna come from just riding my cock, God, you fucking slut—Come for me, yeah? Ah—Come for Daddy, be a good boy, that's right—”

And with his body taut, feeling like an elastic pulled tight, Jungkook comes, the relentless force knocking sharp grunts and whines out of him, white fluid spurting all over his skin and Taehyung's as his hips rut back and forth frantically, the slick from his ass smearing everywhere as his hole pumps out even more as he rides out his orgasm. He's a wreck, his thighs shaking, chest heaving as all that come is fucked out of him.

“Daddy, please,” he whimpers, and keeps moving, keeps Taehyung's cock driving into his hole. “I want—inside me, just—fill me with your come, please, I—”

“Fuck, yeah, Kook—shit, you're so fucking good—” And with a final, brutal thrust, Taehyung fucks up into Jungkook while Jungkook moans in satisfaction and snaps his hips downward, burying Taehyung's cock in his ass and feeling the incredible pulsing of his cock as he blows his load right into Jungkook's pretty little hole, gritting his teeth and groaning, a broken sound, scraped around the edges and so gorgeous.

“Tae,” Jungkook coos, and circles his hips the slightest bit, feeling and revelling in the crude drip of their fluid between his asscheeks and his thighs. Taehyung winces, growling at the overstimulation, still breathing hard from his orgasm.

“Jungkook—Ow—Fucking hell, get off, brat.”

“Sorry, babe.” Jungkook scrunches his nose, smiling, before leaning forward and giving Taehyung a slow kiss, melding their lips together softly as Taehyung hums, satisfied. Then Jungkook pulls back and instead kisses the lingering tears on both of Taehyung's cheeks. Not exactly saying sorry, but not completely ignoring his fault, either.

He gets off, pulling Taehyung's cock out of him with a gross squelch and grimacing at the mild discomfort of being so empty. Lifting the mess of blankets next to Taehyung, Jungkook flops down and sighs.

“Hey, fucking asshole, you wanna untie me, or?”

“Oh, right,” Jungkook chuckles, and sits up. “Where are the keys?”

“You don't know?”

He shrugs. “Couldn't find them.”



“You're an idiot.”

“Well,” Jungkook says, and frowns, “maybe I should leave you like this.” He reaches up and flicks at the soft leather of the cuffs.

“Don't even try. I'll murder you, actually.”

“I'm kidding,” Jungkook chuckles, raising his hands in mock surrender.

“I'm not,” Taehyung snips back, and jostles his arms, letting the metal chains clank loudly. “Uncuff me.”

“Okay, okay. Jesus.” He shifts himself up, and brings his lips to Taehyung's wrists. Before Taehyung can ask him what he's doing, he's snipping his sharp teeth through the comparatively weak leather, cutting through the inner layer of suede, until Taehyung's wrists come free. He takes them, undoing the chains from the headboard, and hands them to Taehyung to put away, going back to flopping lazily on the bed.

“Why'd you break them?” Taehyung holds them up, poking at the torn leather. “These things're like, two hundred dollars or something.”

“Hm. Then stop buying that fancy handmade shit off Etsy then. Problem solved.”

Or you could just not break my cuffs, fuckwad.” Taehyung uses the soft part of the broken cuffs to swat at Jungkook's chest, who just laughs and lifts a tired hand to push his hand away. “What kind of idiot doesn't prepare the keys? Jesus. You're so bad at this domination shit.”

“Teach me then,” Jungkook snickers.

No, I don't trust you. You hurt me.”

“Yeah, man, I made you cry,” Jungkook teases, and pokes at Taehyung's chest.

“No you didn't. Fuck off.” Taehyung places the broken cuffs on the bedside table, and reaches off the bed to grab a shirt to wipe off his chest, and then grabs Jungkook by the legs to begin wiping the insides of his thighs.

“Why'd you use my shirt?” Jungkook complains as Taehyung cleans him.

“'Cause I don't want come on my clothes,” Taehyung says like it's obvious.


“Learned it from you. Fucking demonspawn.”

“Rude.” Then Taehyung pushes Jungkook's upper body down a bit to lift his ass higher and spread his asscheeks. “Wait.” Taehyung stops, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. Sheepishly, Jungkook says, “Leave it.”

“Ew. Why?”

“I like it. Your come.”

“Ew,” Taehyung repeats. But Jungkook catches his small smile as he tosses the dirty shirt onto the floor.

“Really,” Jungkook insists, giggling, brushing his hand along Taehyung's upper arm. “I love when you fill me with your sin, Daddy.”

Laughing, Taehyung roughly shoves at Jungkook's chest. “Oh my fuck, don't call it that. That's not even funny, you're not even funny, Jungkook. Stop existing. Just—go away.”

Jungkook hums, getting into a comfortable position and pulling Taehyung down to spoon with him. “Stop trying to get rid of me. I'm here forever.”

“Well I guess I might as well just die now,” Taehyung mumbles, but sighs happily when Jungkook tucks his back against Taehyung's front. Jungkook huffs a laugh and rolls his eyes, wiggling his ass into the curve of Taehyung's body.

“I love how wet you get,” Taehyung casually murmurs, and prods a finger between Jungkook's asscheeks, spreading the mess of slick and come around.

“Ugh, stop, I'll get horny again,” Jungkook groans, shoving his face into a pillow.

“Mm. How's your heat?”

“Fine. I'll probably need to fuck later.”


“Shut up. You like it.”

“No I don't. And you're not tying me down again, either. Can't, in the first place, 'cause you broke my fucking cuffs.”

“That's fine, I'm too tired anyways. You do all the work. Fuck me from behind, maybe. Feels good like that.”

“Noted.” Taehyung buries his face into Jungkook's shoulder blade. Lifting a hand, he combs his fingers gently through Jungkook's hair, wrapping around the horns and playing around with them until Jungkook grumbles and shakes his head to get him off. Taehyung smiles and ruffles his hair once more. “Wake me up when you're horny.”

“'Kay,” Jungkook hums, and lets his eyes flutter shut as the soft brush of Taehyung's breathing slowly evens out against his skin.

So a couple hours later, Jungkook's waking Taehyung up in the same manner as before, and Taehyung's complaining in the same manner as well, but he doesn't really mind that much. And it's needless to say they don't make it in time for morning Mass.

Maybe next week.