“A strawberry-banana smoothie, please.”
“A large strawberry-banana smoothie,” the barista sighs, “will that be all?”
“Awhh,” Taehyung teases. He just can’t help it, he honestly can’t. “You remember I get a large?”
“Kid,” the barista sighs again, punching buttons on the register. Taehyung grins. “You’ve been in here six days in a row and ordered a large strawberry-banana smoothie. Yes, I remember that you get a large.”
Taehyung really doesn’t mean to frustrate the cute barista at the on-campus cafe. But the beautiful boy with the pink hair only gets cuter when he’s turning his narrowed, cat-like eyes on Taehyung. Besides, the barista (Yoongi, his nametag says) never seems to be in that great of a mood in the first place. Taehyung had assumed flirting with him would help perk him up a bit, but… that doesn’t seem to be working.
“Hyung,” the second barista on duty calls, “you’re gonna have to make his smoothie. The blender hates me, remember?”
“Yeah, Jungkook, that blender literally hates everyone,” Yoongi says. He hands Taehyung his change and turns to where the other boy is staring at the blender with something akin to horror. “Fucking great,” Yoongi mutters, and although he wasn’t trying to be heard, Taehyung giggles anyway.
Just like he had for the last six days, Taehyung waits patiently for the temperamental blender to allow Yoongi to coax it into making his smoothie. The plastic cup with Taehyung’s name on it sits to the side, forgotten, while Yoongi manhandles the “goddamn piece of shit” blender into cooperation. Jungkook just stands to the side, trying not to smile. Taehyung likes Jungkook, too. Just not in the same way. Not at all.
Finally, Yoongi triumphs (he always does). Before he takes the smoothie Yoongi is passing him, however, Taehyung makes a split-second decision to try something new.
“So, Yoongi,” he draws out the barista’s name, “when are you going to write your number on my cup? That would be a perfectly corny way to begin our romantic saga, wouldn’t it?”
Yoongi’s reaction isn’t what Taehyung would have expected.
Taehyung iss expecting Yoongi to scowl, maybe even curse at him. Roll his eyes, stick his tongue out, maybe even just stare...
Taehyung isn’t expecting Yoongi to blush. There he is though, standing behind the counter in his white polo and black slacks, scowling, yes, but there’s also the prettiest shade of pink curling over his cheeks; it makes something in Taehyung feel weak. So now he’s feeling flustered as well, which isn’t something Taehyung is used to. Taehyung doesn’t get flustered, he does the flustering. He winks at Yoongi, covering for himself, and drops the bills in his hands into the tip cup. Then he turns away and heads toward his table.
Jimin is there, on his computer like always. He probably hadn’t even noticed that Taehyung had been gone for close to fifteen minutes, too caught up with whatever homework assignment he was working on. Goddamn piece of shit blender, indeed.
“Tae,” Jimin says, not a moment after the boy in question’s ass hit his chair, “Why did you let me sign up for an online class?”
“You’re the one who didn’t wait for me before you registered, like you promised to do,” Taehyung shrugs. “Besides, at least that’s one less class you have to actually show up for.” Jimin doesn’t reply, besides forcefully closing his laptop. He downs the last of his coffee and stands, shoving his computer in his bag.
“Which of us is doing dinner tonight?” Jimin asks, already two steps away from the door.
“I’ll pick up pizza,” Taehyung calls after him. With a wave of approval, Jimin is out the door and heading across the grass outside. Taehyung checks the time on his phone; nine-forty-five. He doesn’t have class for another hour.
In Taehyung’s defense, he had initially noticed Yoongi over three weeks ago, the very beginning of the semester, at some party at some house. He’d thought he was beautiful, then, too, but there had been a tall, broad blond with him, and Taehyung didn’t know what was the situation with that. However, when Jimin had offered to buy him coffee, six days ago, at the new little shop that opened up on campus, Bean&Things (an upgrade from the little cart that travelled the grounds). Taehyung had walked through the door to find none other than the pink-haired boy?
It was fate. Right?
Taehyung thinks that Yoongi is a beautiful conundrum. At a glance, the elder looks so soft, with his pretty pink hair and pouty pink lips; yet he’s quick to curse, quick to roll his eyes. Taehyung has also seen him quick to smile, and Taehyung has yet to get that gummy image out of his mind. If Taehyung were honest, it was probably the ghost of that smile that kept him coming back every morning.
Yoongi’s eyes could almost be considered lazy, if they didn’t speak volumes with a single glance. They’re deep, dark, and expressive, filled with espresso-toned mysteries. Yoongi has this voice, too; this voice that can probably cut deeper than a knife, if the elder wanted it to. It’s… relaxing to listen to, though. It’s deep, sometimes smooth, like the bubble of a creek, or sometimes it’s rough, like a pencil scribbling against paper. Taehyung thinks he would die to hear that voice breathing his name, cracking and breaking on syllables.
In short, Taehyung finds Yoongi incredibly fascinating.
But so far, Yoongi has been immune to Taehyung’s charms. And Taehyung knows, for a fact, that he has a plethora of charms, some he isn’t even aware of.
Taehyung sighs. Maybe his lucky streak of one-night stands and successful hookups had run out over the summer? Maybe he’d peaked his freshman year? Maybe he’s destined to have one hell of a dry spell of a sophomore year?
Taehyung glances to the counter, where Yoongi is leaning against one hip, looking down at his phone. In fact, Yoongi is staring very intently at his phone. It had been six days, and Taehyung had, so far, only been able to pull one actual reaction from the elder with his teasing and his flirting. Maybe… Yoongi is seeing someone? Taehyung looks past Yoongi, noticing Jungkook coming out of the back. He has an idea.
“Jungkookie?” Taehyung calls. He notices Yoongi perk up, jumping a little, but he doesn’t turn or look up from his phone. Oh, well. Jungkook, on the other hand, is walking over with a curious smile.
“Yes, sir?” Jungkook asks as he reaches the table Taehyung is seated at.
“Ew, stop with the sir, Kookie,” Taehyung says, waving towards the empty chair vacated by Jimin. “Can you sit a sec?”
“Um… yeah, sure?” Jungkook takes a hesitant look around, before he slides into the chair. He touches the dark brown hair that sweeps across his ears, looking up at Taehyung through his lashes. Cute.
“I was just curious,” Taehyung begins, thinking on how exactly to word his first question. He leans forward on his elbows, cocking his head at the younger. “Yoongi seems very… infatuated with his phone, doesn’t he?” Jungkook frowns, confusion coloring his features.
“Yeah? He’s on his phone a lot, I guess?” Jungkook finally says with a shrug.
“Hmm,” the elder hums, sipping his smoothie. “I wonder… if he’s seeing anyone?”
“Oh, no. Hyung isn’t seeing anyone,” Jungkook shakes his head, “he works way too much to have a social life.” Jungkook laughs a little as he finishes.
“Ah,” Taehyung grins, glancing over his shoulder at the boy in question, “are you sure?”
“Yep. His friends tease him about it when they come in,” Jungkook says like it’s fact. Well. It’s factual enough for Taehyung.
“Is he straight?” Taehyung doesn’t bother with pretty words this time. It’s better to address such things without any chance for misunderstanding, in Taehyung’s experience.
“Uh,” Jungkook pauses, his brows once again knitting together in confusion. Taehyung waits while the boy thinks, sipping on his smoothie utill it makes his brain ache.
“It’s a simple question, Kookie,” he laughs, shrugging, “but if you don’t know, that’s fine.”
“Yeah, I don’t know, actually,” Jungkook shrugs, glancing towards the counter. “I mean… I’ve known him a year, that’s how long we’ve worked together. He’s not very… verbal, but he’s mentioned dates before? But he’s never specified gender, so… maybe he’s not straight? I would think if he were straight, he’d talk about girls, you know? Except girls are kind of terrifying, so maybe he’s too, you know, to talk about them-”
“Okay, Jungkookie,” Taehyung laughs, reaching out to cover the boy’s mouth with his hand. Jungkook flushes a bit, and it’s not a displeasing sight, but Taehyung is too distracted to fully appreciate it. He sits back, thinking. “I guess I better ask him,” Taehyung checks the time again, “tomorrow. I gotta get to class.”
“Uh, ‘kay,” Jungkook nods, getting to his feet awkwardly.
“Thank you, precious man-child, for your knowledge. I appreciate it,” Taehyung beams, patting a slightly stunned Jungkook on the shoulder. The younger just nods stiffly.
“See you tomorrow!”
Taehyung pushes open the door with his hip as he pulls his sunglasses from the collar of his t-shirt. He’d spent a little too long musing over the likelihood of Yoongi being interested in dick, and now he’s running late. He may not have really made any progress with the pretty pink-haired boy, but at least Taehyung, seemingly, had made an almost-new friend in Jungkook. Taehyung jogs across campus, past the dorms and the main courtyard, hoping he can make it to the lab in time. Today was dissect-a-shark day, and he didn’t want to lose first choice of the fish.
Taehyung would try again tomorrow.
“What’d he want?” Yoongi asks, what he hopes isn’t too soon, as Jungkook comes back behind the counter. The kid shrugs, washing his hands at the sink. Any minute now, the late morning/lunch rush would hit; Yoongi’s favorite time of day.
“Just asking about you, but… I realized I don’t know you very well, hyung,” Jungkook says, smiling at Yoongi. Despite the smile, the twinkling eyes, the whole package… Yoongi doesn’t believe him for a second.
“Bullshit,” Yoongi spits, though he can feel his face warming; not for the first time today.
“Okay, I may have told him that, to the best of my limited knowledge, you were single, but…,” Jungkook shrugs, not finishing his sentence. Yoongi curses, but he makes himself let it go. There’s nothing he can do about it now.
“Take the register. I’m done smiling at people today.”
A few hours later, Yoongi is making his fifteenth Americano of the day, when he feels it; the dreadfully familiar fluttering behind his eyes. Ah, fuck. Yoongi is scheduled to work the next day and a half, not to mention he has a portfolio to work on. He can’t deal with this, right now, or better yet, ever.
“Kid,” Yoongi says, pulling Jungkook to the side, “can you handle everything by yourself until two?”
“Yeah, hyung, why?” Jungkook looks over, concern coloring his features. “Yoongi? Oh, yeah, sure. Go ahead, go home. I can handle everything.”
“Thanks,” Yoongi nods, “just call the next shift in early if you have to.” Jungkook nods, patting Yoongi’s arm.
Yoongi hates the sympathy.
He doesn’t even change before he leaves, he just grabs his shit and leaves, hurrying across campus. Fifteen minute warnings are all he gets, these days. His apartment is exactly eight minutes from the campus’ west gate, and Yoongi can already feel the fluttering shift into tiny stabs of pain.
“Hyung?” Yoongi calls, bursting through the front door. “Seokjin, are you home?”
“Yoongi? What the hell are you yelling about?” Jin asks, poking his head out of the bathroom.
“Out of the bathroom, dude,” is Yoongi’s only reply as he kicks his shoes off. He barely remembers to let his backpack fall from his shoulder.
“Again? Yoongi, you just had one a couple weeks ago-”
“I can’t fucking help that,” Yoongi growls. White is bursting through his vision, and it’s starting to become unbearably painful.
By the time Yoongi is on his knees over the toilet, he’s crying. He can’t even think to be grateful that he’d skipped breakfast this morning as he heaves up everything in his empty stomach, pain scorching through his skull. Indescribable pain, exploding like firecrackers behind his eyes, sending his body through wave after wave of nausea. Even his ears hurt, everything is too loud, every sound feels like a sharp stab to his eardrum, the sound of his retching included. The horrific sounds are bouncing back from the tiled walls to assault him. Yoongi is cold too, and Yoongi hates being cold. He'd rather be feverish and clammy, than cold and clammy.
Unfortunately, Yoongi has no control over what he feels or doesn’t feel when the migraines hit him. Jin had been in the middle of shaving when Yoongi had rushed him from the room, and he returns only long enough to bring a blanket, water, and nausea pills. It would be a while, before Yoongi is able to even keep the pills down, but he appreciates it nonetheless.
An hour top, that's how long the nausea usually lasts. It’s impossible to measure time, when one is in extreme pain, but Yoongi’s dealt with it enough to know. By the time the hour is up, he’s able to swallow the pills with a little water, without feeling the urge to just throw it back up. Which is progress. Yoongi rises, on sore, shaky legs, his head spinning, and wraps the blanket around his shoulders.
It takes him about five seconds longer than usual to open the door, due to the fact that he can barely open his eyes to see, but he manages. His room is directly down the hall, and he stumbles towards it, blinking white spots from his vision. Yoongi doesn't even undress, he just pushes his door shut and falls on his bed, thankful for the blackout curtains Jin was kind enough to install when they’d moved in.
Yoongi doesn’t sleep. He just lies there, feeling as if his skull is fracturing into dust, tears dampening the pillow beneath his face. He burrows into his blanket, shivering, and hopes like hell that the next six hours don’t feel like six years.
Yoongi wakes up the next day, around noon or so, and trudges out of his room, feeling like he’s been skinned alive and stuffed with cotton. He smells coffee, and so what if he works at a coffeeshop, Jin’s dark roasts are better. Yoongi still feels like utter shit, but he figures it’s not the first time someone has gone to class with the residual ache in their skull left behind by a migraine, so, what the hell, if they can do it, so can Yoongi. Hopefully his professor wouldn’t mind him wearing sunglasses in class, either.
Yoongi is only expecting to see Jin when he turns the corner into the living room, but Namjoon is sitting at the dining table, instead, and the younger smiles when he sees Yoongi.
“Aye, buddy,” Namjoon greets him, with a soft voice, careful of Yoongi’s migraine-induced hangover, “you look dazzling this afternoon.”
“Suck my dick, Joon,” Yoongi rumbles. He passes Namjoon and heads to the kitchen, ignoring the chuckling back at the table. Jin is already pouring Yoongi a giant to-go mug of coffee.
“I thought it was about time for you to be on your feet,” the elder says with a gentle smile as he passes the mug to Yoongi.
“Bless you, angel of Heaven,” Yoongi groans, indulging in the great big wiff of steam curling from the cup. Yoongi leans against the counter, still sniffing the beautiful, bitter black liquid, fully aware that Jin is giving him his best I-love-you-but-I’m-judging-you-so-hard face. Yoongi couldn’t care less.
“Do you want lunch? I was just about to make some for myself and Namjoon,” the elder asks, moving to the fridge.
“Thanks, but, class first, then food,” Yoongi says, taking a tentative sip. Ow, that’s hot. “I’ve gotta shower and run if I’m going to make it.”
“I’ll put some in the fridge for you to eat later.” Yoongi nods and leaves his coffee on the counter to cool, before heading off to shower. Showers were nice, for the aftermath, but Yoongi desperately wishes he had time to take a bath. Maybe later.
Before he leaves the apartment, as he’s searching for his left shoe, Namjoon speaks up.
“Think you’ll feel like going out day after tomorrow, hyung?” he asks without even looking up from his phone.
“I don’t like parties, Namjoon,” Yoongi says. You think his best friend would understand this, after several years of friendship.
“It’s not a frat party or anything, just a normal weekend get-together,” Namjoon laughs, finally looking up at Yoongi to shrug. “I just thought you might like to let loose, a little. You’ve worked a lot of hours this week.” Yoongi sighs, resigning to both Namjoon’s reasoning, and the fact that he can’t find his left shoe.
“Yeah, okay, fine. As long as there’s alcohol that I don’t have to buy, whatever.” Yoongi hurries back into this room to find his converse, because he’s really, really going to miss the beginning of class now. Goddamnit.
“Are you really that sad, dude?” Jimin asks, sounding for all the world like a judgmental best friend. Which… appropriate, at least. To answer his friend’s question, Taehyung only nods and sips pitifully on his coffee; he hadn’t even had the heart to order a smoothie today.
“He hasn’t been here in two days, Jiminie,” Taehyung sighs, slumping in his seat with all the grace of a pouty two-year old. He knows he’s being dramatic, and he doesn’t care. All Taehyung cares about is it’s been two days since he saw the beautiful Yoongi, with his pink hair and his graceful scowl.
“He’s probably just taking days off. You know… it’s not like he can work every single day,” Jimin shrugs. “Do you just wanna go home?”
Taehyung sighs. Again. No, he doesn’t really want to go home. Going home meant facing the fact that he’d yet to turn in his research paper on the pros and cons on breeding marine mammals in sanctuaries. Taehyung didn’t even want to think about the mound of laundry he needed to do, or the ever increasing number of emails in his inbox reminding him that his lab reports are due in a week. All eight of them.
No, Taehyung doesn’t want to go home. He’d wanted to come to Beans&Things and see Yoongi, maybe try to make a little progress… that obviously isn't happening. Taehyung glances around the shop, skimming over the small sea of unfamiliar faces, all of which are framed by perfectly normal colored hair. It’s absolutely boring.
“Dude, you’re pining, please stop,” Jimin suddenly says, kicking Taehyung none too gently under the table.
“Ow, fuck. That hurt, asshole,” Taehyung hisses, reaching below the table to rub at his bruising shin. He almost takes his nose out on the table in the process, which he fully blames on his grinning friend.
“Oops,” Jimin shrugs, taking a sip of his own iced coffee. “I’ve never seen you pine before, Tae. It would be funny if it weren’t so disconcerting.”
“I’m not pining,” Taehyung shakes his head. He is not pining.
He’s not pining.
“Well, if you say so. Hey,” Jimin says, kicking Taehyung again, with a little less force, “did you hear about the party downstairs tonight?”
“Oh!” Party. Yes. A party is what Taehyung needs to cure him of his not-pining. “No, I didn’t. Let’s go, Jiminie, please?” Taehyung pulls out his best pout, his irrefutable puppy eyes, but Jimin only laughs.
“I have Skype tonight with Hobi-hyung,” Jimin shrugs, a light blush creeping over his cheeks. “But you would have fun, you know, if you wanted to go….” Taehyung gasps, cupping his own cheeks.
“I cannot believe you’re kicking out your best friend of ten years to Skype-fuck your boyfriend.” Taehyung is sure to say the words loud enough that anyone listening could hear, if they tuned out of their own mediocre lives to pay attention to someone else’s.
“Tae!” Jimin hisses, ducking his head as his face turns a flaming red.
“Okay, fine, I can go for a little while, okay?” Jiming says, some of the flush fading from his cheeks. “Just for a little while, Taehyung. No shots this time”
“It’s okay,” Taehyung shrugs, “I can go alone.” Taehyung may be a teasing asshole, but he’s not going to be the type of asshole who keeps his best friend away from the only intimate time he’s able have with his long-distance boyfriend.
Jimin gives him a grateful smile.
Who knows, maybe Yoongi likes parties.
“I hate parties,” Yoongi groans. He and Namjoon had arrived at the party not half an hour ago, and Yoongi had promptly taken two shots of some kind of dark whiskey and parked his ass on the arm of a loveseat. Namjoon is sitting beside him, beer in hand and legs crossed, and he just looks up at Yoongi. Yoongi can tell the younger is resisting the urge to roll his eyes, so he snorts.
The party isn’t even in full swing yet but Yoongi is already itching to go home. As it turned out, the party is being held on campus, in the same dorm building he lived in his freshman and sophomore years, one of the newer, bigger buildings. The party itself spans about half the third floor corridor, people roaming in and out of rooms, finding the right atmosphere. He’d let Namjoon pick the room they’d hang out in, which is, blessedly, the room with all the alcohol.
There are probably twenty people in this three-bedroom dorm alone, and so far, the only familiar face, besides Namjoon’s, was Jungkook’s. The dark-haired youth had floated over briefly as Yoongi and Namjoon arrived to say hello, then floated away, and was currently playing some kind of wacky beer pong with what appears to be vodka, on the other side of the room. Yoongi watches, sipping on his own concoction of whiskey and coke, as Jungkook takes shot after shot. By the time Yoongi’s own drink is finished, he’s maybe almost ready to join the game.
Then Yoongi hears a familiar laugh, and a sudden whoosh of dread sweeps through his bones.
Yoongi turns, as subtly as he can, towards the open door, and just like a recurring nightmare of being chased by smoothies and bananas, there is Taehyung.
Yoongi ignores what the kid is wearing (for the record, it’s tight as sin ripped jeans and a tattered t-shirt that reveals too much honey-toned skin), and instead focuses on tugging his beanie further down to cover his hair.
“Taehyungie-hyung!” Jungkook’s drunken voice drawls loudly across the dull hum of the party, and Yoongi winces as Taehyung turns towards the call of his name. Taehyung smiles at Jungkook, before his eyes land on Yoongi and his smile curls into a smirk.
“Why hello, Jungkookie,” Taehyung turns and greets the other, like he hadn’t just be borderline eye-fucking Yoongi. Jungkook rushes over, pulling a stunned Taehyung into a sloppily executed bro-hug, which Taehyung, after a moment of awkward shock, gingerly returns.
“Oh, hey, Yoongi-hyung is here, too! Let’s say hi!” Jungkook tugs Taehyung forward, towards the chair where Yoongi is perched. Yoongi stiffens, wondering if he can dodge the two younger boys and make it out the door, wondering if Namjoon would mind running interference for him. In the end, Yoongi stays put, his eyes on the plastic cup in his hand.
Yoongi doesn’t want to look up, he just wants to disappear. Maybe slide down into the cushions of the chair and hide under Namjoon’s ass. He can’t though, because Taehyung is standing right there, not two feet away, with a very drunk Jungkook hanging on for dear life. Yoongi hates parties.
“Hey,” he finally says, cursing on the inside and lifting his eyes. With the way he’s sitting on the arm of the sofa, he’s eye level with the younger, and he watches this realization dawn on Taehyung’s dark-ringed eyes. Before the boy’s stare can make Yoongi uncomfortable, Taehyung’s eyes flick down to the empty cup in his hands, then back to his face, something unreadable flashing in his gaze. Then he’s frowning, pitifully, pinning Yoongi with a look so hurt that Yoongi actually almost believes, for a moment, that he did something wrong.
“Were you sick?” Yoongi frowns at the sudden question, still distracted by the look on Taehyung’s face.
“You weren’t at work for two days, I thought you might have been sick,” Taehyung explains, shifting his weight to and from each foot. “But you look okay, so I guess not?”
“Uh, no, I wasn’t sick,” Yoongi shakes his head, watching as Jungkook downs whatever was in his cup as he speaks, “I just didn’t have work.”
“Wait,” Namjoon says suddenly, all but lunging out of his seat, “you’re the smoothie guy?”
“The smoothie guy?” Taehyung grins, the action lazy and somewhat dangerous, in not-quite-a-bad way. Yoongi knows he’s blushing again, but thankfully, half the lights in the room are turned off, for ‘atmosphere’, so hopefully, Taehyung shouldn’t be able to see it.
“Yeah, Joon. Thanks,” Yoongi huffs. Namjoon seems confused, which kind of makes Yoongi want to step on his face.
“My name is actually Taehyung, but I don’t mind if you call me smoothie guy,” Taehyung shrugs, “it’s not the worst thing to be known as.” Yoongi ignores Taehyung’s teasing smile.
Namjoon is opening his mouth to speak, with Yoongi preparing to smack a hand over his mouth to prevent him from doing just that, when Jungkook saves the day.
“Taehyungie-hyung,” Jungkook says in that drunken, excited sort of way, “do you dance?”
“Yeah, Kook, I dance,” Taehyung nods, holding the other steady, but his eyes are on Yoongi. “There’s no music though.”
“I shall take care of that!” Jungkook pushes away from Taehyung, moving towards the window where there is indeed a stereo. Yoongi almost spares a thought to wonder why nobody has turned in on, yet, then decides he doesn’t care.
Yoongi is more concerned with the fact that Jungkook, who is pretty fucking drunk at this point, is encouraging the crowd to help him shove the end table and the couch to the wall to create a makeshift dance floor. Not only is Jungkook trying to dance, he’s trying to dance with Taehyung, who looks like he’s going to accept the offer. Yoongi tries to believe the coiling in his gut is due to distrust towards Taehyung.
Not five minutes after Jungkook turns on the stereo, people from outside begin pouring in, enticed by the music reverberating through the room. There are suddenly twice as many people pressed together in the small space, the air growing thick and humid. Yoongi hates it. He hates the crowd and the stuffiness, the loudness of it all. It’s oppressive and uncomfortable, and there are eyes on him. He knows people are looking at him, sizing up how he interacts with Namjoon, wondering if they can make a move. Yoongi hates parties.
Namjoon is fine, though. At some point, he leaves the sofa and returns with another drink for Yoongi, before he drifts away again, mingling with people he knows from his classes, people he’s met at other parties. Yoongi almost envies Namjoon’s ability to make friends with anyone. His best friend is reserved in a way that makes him interesting, makes him great at conversation, while Yoongi is just awkward and a little drunk. Namjoon never wanders far, though, and he’s always within earshot. Yoongi stays perched on the chair, his eyes locked on the dancefloor.
There’s a couple on the other end of the sofa making out and Yoongi can’t hear shit over the pounding of the music. The sheer amount of people now in the room has the temperature increasing at a steady rate, the air muggy, and Yoongi’s t-shirt is sticking to his ribs even though he hasn’t moved since he arrived an hour ago. There’s moisture beading on his hairline, dripping down the back of his neck, and the cup in his hand is dripping condensation. Yoongi ignores all of this, because his eyes are glued to Taehyung and Jungkook, who are in the midst of the crowd surging in the center of the room, locked in what could be mistaken as a mating ritual of some sort. Yoongi stares without caring, the whiskey in his cup preventing that, but Yoongi does care about what he sees.
The music bumping from the speakers isn’t exactly… sexy, but it doesn't stop Jungkook from curling his hands into the hair on the back of Taehyung’s head, pressing their bodies close, impossibly close, while Jungkook hips attempt to drag against Taehyung’s.
The sight has something dark curling in the pit of Yoongi’s stomach, though it could just be the whiskey and the heat. More likely, though, it’s the way Jungkook is so obviously drunk, so desperately trying to reach Taehyung’s lips with his own. Taehyung, on the other hand, keeps his head turned, avoiding Jungkook’s seeking mouth. Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s worried more for Jungkook or Taehyung, at this point.
Jungkook, of course, right?
Yoongi has seen Jungkook drunk before. The kid just has way too many hormones jammed into his muscled body, and he’s too shyly awkward when he’s sober to find away to work off those frustrations. But Yoongi has never actually seen Jungkook this fucking smashed, so drunk that he’s trying to all but fuck someone, a relative stranger at that, out on the dancefloor. Yoongi watches, with his own decently-drunken eyes, watches to make sure Jungkook doesn’t do anything stupid.
With half his brain focused on Jungkook, Yoongi finds the other half focusing on Taehyung. Yoongi doesn’t know if his last migraine knocked something loose, or if it’s the whiskey, or if he’s just finally lost his mind, but he’s feeling… something. He feels something as he watches Taehyung, watches the way the distressed denim of his jeans stretch and drag along his thighs. The white of Taehyun’s ripped shirt is a stark contrast to the softly-tanned skin that glows even in the dim light, a souvenir from the summer, and Yoongi can’t help but notice how warm the younger looks. His dark hair brushes back and forth across his forehead each time he moves, each time he dodges Jungkook’s kiss, his even darker eyes just a glint beneath the sweat-dampened strands.
Yoongi isn’t quite sure what he’s feeling, not for a little while, not until Jungkook finally manages to get his hips flush with Taehyung’s. The feeling that blooms is almost jealousy, but not quite. It quickly morphs, however, while Yoongi watches as Taehyung puts his hands on Jungkook’s hips and firmly, but gently, pushes the younger back a few inches, back to a safe distance. That single act is all it takes to have Yoongi’s chest tightening in anxiety. The bubbly kind.
Because, holy shit, Yoongi is having some sort of drunken epiphany, realizing he’s actually attracted to Taehyung. Not in the sense that he wants to stretch the younger out on the nearest flat surface and go at it, but it a gentler way, the only way Yoongi knows. Yoongi, with a deep breath, finally admits it to himself, that he’s attracted to the goddamn smoothie guy.
Taehyung is cute, of course. He’s got beautiful golden skin and bright, lively eyes. His hair is almost always a dark mess on top of his head, bouncing and even curling over his ears sometimes. His voice is deep and resonating, even when he’s laughing, and his smile is genuine and kind of adorable. He’s tall, his body is lean, lithely muscled, and not unpleasant to look at, not in the least. Yoongi appreciates these details, of course, but they’re not the type of things he truly gives a shit about.
Taehyung noticing the cup in Yoongi’s hands, Taehyung turning down a drunk, willing Jungkook… these are the things that Yoongi finds attractive. Taehyung always paying for his friend Jimin’s coffees, always making sure to leave an appropriate tip, always holding the door open for others as he comes and goes from the shop.
Yoongi stands, desperately needing air that isn’t clouded with heavy bass and pheromones. He’s hit by just how much he’s had to drink as he pushes through the crowd, his insides curling, hot and angry. He finally makes it to the door, out into the bright hallway, and he breathes a little deeper, a little easier. He walks down to the far end of the hall, away from the party, then sags against the wall and shoves his hands in the pockets of his jeans, willing the burning under his skin to subside.
Yoongi lifts his eyes from the floor, glancing to the left. There’s Taehyung, glistening with perspiration, his eyes bright but concerned.
“Hey,” Yoongi echos.
“Are you sure you’re not sick?” Taehyung asks, finally making it down the hall and stopping front of Yoongi. He lifts one hand, very slowly, before he presses his knuckles to Yoongi’s neck, his touch barely there and fleeting. This fact doesn’t stop Yoongi from twitching, jerking away from the touch.
“I’m fine,” he says quickly, “I just got too hot in there.”
“Yeah, too many people, too small a room,” Taehyung nods, his eyes watching Yoongi.
“Where’s Jungkook?” Yoongi looks back towards the party; that kid is too drunk to be left alone for any period of time.
“He’s with your friend... Namjoon?” Taehyung shrugs, the movement making it oh so obvious to Yoongi just how sweaty the other is.
“Yeah. Namjoon,” Yoongi mutters. He’s watching the way Taehyung’s chest rises, expanding and shifting the fabric of his shirt, stretching where the material sticks with sweat. Yoongi drunkenly wonders if his DSLR could pick up those details.
Yoongi’s eyes dart up as he jerks, again, to find Taehyung staring at him. His eyes are dark, lustrous, impeccably sharp. They look hundreds of times more sober than Yoongi feels.
“Hyung,” Yoongi says automatically, licking his numb lips. “I’m older than you, kid.”
“Yoongi-hyung… please stop looking at me like that.” Taehyung is watching the way Yoongi chews on his bottom lip.
“Like you’re wondering what I look like under these clothes,” Taehyung smirks, teasing. Yoongi huffs, scowling as he shakes his head, denying the accusation.
“You are, and it’s making it impossibly fucking hard not to kiss you,” Taehyung says, stepping a little closer. “But I can’t, because you’re drunk, and that kind of sucks, hyung.” Yoongi doesn’t move, he can’t. He’s already against the wall, there’s nowhere else he can go. His stillness has nothing to do with Taehyung’s words.
“Third date,” Yoongi says, looking down, his eyes drawn to one of the holes in Taehyung’s shirt, close to the hem where a jagged triangle of tanned skin is peeking out.
“I don’t kiss before the third date.”
Yoongi doesn’t kiss before the third date, and he doesn’t do casual sex. He doesn’t do hookups, drunk or sober, though this would be first time, ever, that he’s even tempted to reconsider. Yoongi has had no problem turning down people in the past; fuckboys, nice guys who were just horny, no problem. The problem now, is Yoongi has never actually liked one of them. Until Taehyung. Until the dumb kid with a fetish for strawberry-banana smoothies.
“Let’s go, then,” Taehyung shrugs, his smile easy and bright.
“On our first date. We can find food, sober up. Talk,” Taehyung offers, stepping forward again. He’s close enough now that Yoongi can feel warmth rolling off him.
“Taehyung,” Yoongi sighs, lifting his eyes, “don’t try to be something you’re not.”
“Something I’m not?”
“You’re not-” Yoongi starts, searching through his hazy brain for the words, but the only thing his brain is full of is alcohol. That’s all that’s sloshing around up there.
“I’m not...?” Taehyung prompts. Yoongi, who is drunk and he knows he’s drunk and he knows, for certain, that he wouldn’t be doing this if he were sober, reaches out with one hand, letting his fingers wrap around Taehyung’s hip. Partly to keep him from stepping any closer, partly so Yoongi can slip his thumb through the rip and press against Taehyung’s warm skin, because he’s more than distracted by the sight. Yoongi takes a deep breath.
“You’re not a dater,” he says, “you’re a casual sex, one-night stand kind of guy.” Taehyung laughs, the sounds ringing out and startling Yoongi.
“You’re right about the last part, I do like casual sex, I like it a lot, actually. But,” Taehyung smiles, warm and not in the least teasing, “that doesn’t mean I’m not a dater. I just haven’t dated.”
“That makes no sense,” Yoongi frowns, causing the younger boy to laugh again. It startles Yoongi a second time, but this doesn’t mean it's an unpleasant sound.
“You’re drunk, hyung, that’s why it doesn’t make sense. Look,” Taehyung holds his hands out, shrugging, a smile curving his lips, “you want to go on a date, we can go on a date. Like I said, we could go right now.”
“I need to get Jungkook home.” Yoongi doesn’t know where the excuse comes from. All he knows is that Taehyung is too close, smells too good, and Yoongi hasn’t had time to think since Taehyung walked into that damn party. Yoongi likes him, that much is obvious, even to a drunk Yoongi. What drunk Yoongi doesn’t understand is why, why he likes Taehyung, and why someone would go through the trouble of dating just so they could get laid.
“Okay,” Taehyung giggles, but he sounds disappointed nonetheless, pulling Yoongi from his mental rant. He wraps his slender fingers around Yoongi’s wrist, gently removing Yoongi’s hand from his hip. “Get Jungkookie home, and I’ll… see you tomorrow?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi nods after a moment, “tomorrow.”
Taehyung gives Yoongi one last smile, before he turns and leaves, heading for the stairs instead of the party. He goes up, not down, and Yoongi realizes he must live in the building. Instead of listening to the little hot, drunk voice in his head, though, Yoongi pushes away from the wall and back into the party, hoping like Hell that both his friends were clothed and sober enough to walk home.
“It’s so hot,” Jimin groans, falling back against the grass.
“I love this tree,” Taehyung responds, already belly up.
It is hot, very hot, but the giant oak in the courtyard provides blissful shade in contrast to the late morning heat. Jimin had pulled Taehyung out of bed for breakfast, chipper and smiling, the side effects of spending ‘time’ with Hoseok, then decided it was the perfect day to do homework outside.
What kind of hippie shit is this, is all Taehyung could wonder.
It is a beautiful day, though, and Taehyung doesn’t want to ruin his friend’s mood, so he lays in the shade, sweating, ignoring the stack of his schoolwork next to him. Under the canopy of the tree, the world is hazy and green, like being underwater in the midst of a jungle of seaweed. Taehyung likes it, and he’s halfway asleep with his phone rings.
“Why world, why?” he grumbles, reaching into his back pocket for the vibrating brick of technology. “Hello?”
It’s Taehyung’s academic advisor, asking if they can set up a meeting. Something about second year check-ins, or something. Taehyung agrees to meet with her in a couple of hours, then he drags himself up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He turns to find Jimin smiling at his own phone like the lamest in-love person ever. How cute.
“It’s time for a smoothie,” Taehyung says. Jimin rolls his eyes, but he sits up and stands. Taehyung follows, and after they’ve grabbed their stuff, they set off across the grass, across the short way to Bean&Things. Taehyung finds himself smiling before they’ve even made it to the door, though he can’t be bothered to ask himself why.
The bell over the door dings when they walk in, and Jimin immediately finds a table directly under the flow of the AC vent. Meanwhile, Taehyung heads for the counter, and he can already see a flash of pink moving around the storage room.
“Be right with you!” Yoongi’s voice calls from the back. Taehyung is still smiling as he stops at the counter, trying to lean over and around to see through the door.
“No rush, hyung,” he calls back. There’s a muffled crash in the back, but Taehyung doesn’t hear Yoongi curse, so he assumes he’s okay.
Finally, the elder emerges from the door, carrying a box full of cups and sugar packets. He’s frowning, which isn’t good at all, so Taehyung kicks his own smile up a notch, hoping that it rubs off on Yoongi.
“Good morning, beautiful-hyung,” Taehyung says as Yoongi drops the box on the back counter.
“Morning,” Yoongi sighs, already reaching for the ingredients to make Taehyung’s smoothie.
“No Jungkook today?”
“We don’t speak that heathen’s name,” Yoongi hisses, wrestling with the lid on the blender. “Someone refused to go to his own home last night and literally crawled onto my back, and wouldn’t get off ‘till I agreed to a fucking slumber party.” Yoongi turns on the blender, letting it run, before he adds the banana, “Then, this person who shall remain unnamed, fell off my couch after he decided to sing a folk rendition of “Eyes, Nose, Lips”, then he fell asleep in my bed, so I had to sleep on the couch-turned-stage,” Yoongi sighs again, letting the blender do it’s thing. When it’s done, he fills up a cup with the smoothie and hands it over to Taehyung, who’d listened without speaking, for fear of angering the grumpy barista.
“So,” Taehyung chances, passing over his money, “not such a good morning, got it.”
“I’m so done with his ass,” Yoongi sighs again. Then he looks at Taehyung, fully, for the first time, and Taehyung feels a trickle of warmth in his heart. Well, it’s now or never, shitty morning or not.
“Changing the subject, when are we going on our date?” Taehyung asks, pinching the straw in his cup between his lips to sip.
“The date I asked you on last night, hyung,” Taehyung laughs.
“You were serious?” Yoongi’s brows cinch in the middle as his lips draw together in a small frown.
“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” Now it’s Taehyung’s turn to frown, though his face turns down in confusion.
“Because… because you don’t date. I thought we established this last night,” Yoongi mumbles. Taehyung doesn’t miss the way the elder’s cheeks warm the slightest degree.
“Look, okay,” Taehyung says, putting his smoothie down and shrugging, “you were right. I don’t date. But I don’t date because I don’t find anyone interesting enough to actually spend any time with.” Yoongi isn’t interrupting him. In fact, he’s openly listening, so Taehyung continues. “I’m not going to lie and say I don’t want to sleep with you, because I do. I really, really do. And yes, I am the type to hook up once with someone and never see them again. But… I don’t want to never see you again? I know it’s weird, but it’s the way my brain processes things.”
“I’m not trying to make you feel bad for-” Yoongi starts, his eyes widening a little bit. Taehyung shakes his head, smiling.
“I know, hyung. Just like I’m not trying to talk you into fucking. Okay? I don’t date because I’ve never met anyone who I wanted to date. When I do the whole casual sex thing, it’s… a physical reaction to how my body perceives a person. I don’t think about it, you know? It’s sex, it’s fun, it’s exciting. I don’t miss them or think about them afterwards. Whatever. But,” Taehyung pauses, waving his hands as he tries to come up with the words, “I like you? So I’m not asking you on a date just to get you in bed, I’m asking you on a date because I don’t find you boring. I don’t know what will happen after that, but… that’s the point of dating right? Getting to know someone? I want to do that. I want to get to know you.”
Taehyung is sure he’s said something wrong at some point, because Yoongi is just staring, his expression completely unreadable. This is what happens, when Taehyung tries to explain himself, every time. Taehyung rambles, he gets his words twisted and he’s terribly awkward when it comes to speaking his feelings and thoughts outloud. He lets the silence drag on till it’s borderline uncomfortable before he opens his mouth to say something, maybe apologize for whatever he said, but Yoongi speaks first.
“Okay,” Yoongi says, a small, tentative smile breaking across his face.
“Okay?” Taehyung’s mouth probably puts a dent in the floor, but whatever.
“Yeah, but… can we talk about it later? There’s uh…,” Yoogi tilted his head, motioning behind Taehyung.
There’s a line five people long behind Taehyung, and by the varying degrees of either annoyance or amusement on their faces, they’d heard every word. Taehyung isn’t normally shy, but right now, after all that, he can’t help the way his ears burn.
“Later, yes, good.” The words come out in a rush as he picks up his smoothie and bolts from the counter. He falls into the chair across from the table Jimin is sitting at, and ignores the way his friend is flat out cackling at him.
Yoongi had said yes, though. Or, he’d said okay, which was close enough for Taehyung. Butterflies, strange and foreign, bubble up into his throat, making it all but impossible for him to do anything but smile. Which is fine to Taehyung, because he was going on a date with Yoongi, and he finds that he’s genuinely excited.
And extraordinarily… nervous.
Hours later, Taehyung is laying on his bed. The alarm clock reads “2:02AM”, but Taehyung can’t sleep. Jimin went to bed hours ago, and the dorm is silent, save for the hum of the mini fridge and the rumble of distant heat-thunder. Taehyung had tried, he’d tried really hard, to not let the meeting with his advisor overshadow the happiness he felt this morning when Yoongi had agreed to go on a date with him.
Unfortunately, Taehyung had failed. In more than one way.
His advisor, who was actually a really nice lady, though Taehyung isn’t very fond of her right now, had advised him to drop a class. Taehyung had enrolled in five classes during the registration period, but, as far his advisor is concerned, his class load was too much for him to handle. So, with a tense jaw and a coil of inadequacy in his gut, Taehyung had dropped his second elective at her behest.
Sure, Taehyung isn’t the most prompt student, but he’s a good one. He goes to class, he does all of his assignments eventually, always turning them in on time. He takes good notes, he stays organized. Taehyung had taken five classes throughout his freshman year, what was the difference now? Yeah, he’s taking harder courses now, plus two labs, but… what bullshit.
Taehyung moves on from feeling disappointed in himself, to being kind of pissed. Maybe he had slacked, maybe he’d turned in a half-assed assignment or two. He’s a damn Marine Biology major, why the hell is he required to take a fitness course, or a class on Classical Literature?
Taehyung sits up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He isn’t going to get to sleep, not with the way he feels. He glances around his dark room, and truthfully, it’s a mess. There are clothes all over the place, dirty sheets in the corner from one night he’d gotten frisky, solo, when Jimin was out late. His desk is covered in notes and oceanic analyses, his textbooks stacked next to his aquarium. Everything looks worse in the soft light of the streetlamp through his blue curtains, distorted and creepy.
Needing a distraction, any distraction, from the burning in his mind, Taehyung stands and pulls his laundry hamper from under his bed. He starts tossing clothes in, left and right, not caring what’s actually dirty and what just happened to fall on the floor. He throws trash in the corner, he can get that later. After all the laundry is piled in the basket, he tosses the bottle of detergent on top and pulls on jogging pants and a hoodie, not bothering with socks. He grabs his basket and his keys, then digs around in his neglected backpack for change, then slips out of his bedroom. Taehyung steps into his sandals on at the door, then he’s gone, leaving the floor and heading down stairs to the laundry room, ignoring the dull ache of frustration settling in his left temple.
Before he even reaches the door, he can hear a machine running. Although he has absolutely no room to talk, Taehyung snorts, because who does laundry in the middle of the night?
The first thing he sees are two laundry baskets, one full of folded clothes and towels, and the other empty, both placed in front of the last dryer on the end. The second thing Taehyung notices is Yoongi, sitting cross legged on top of the folding table against the wall, his laptop in front of him. Yoongi looks up slowly, sensing another person. He sees Taehyung paused in the doorway and his dark, foxy eyes widen a bit.
“Hey,” he says lightly.
“Hey,” Taehyung says back, finally moving into the room. He goes straight to the nearest washer and dumps his entire basket into the drum. “I didn’t know you lived in my building?”
“I don’t. I live in the apartments on Lake,” Yoongi says, rotating on his ass to face Taehyung, letting his legs dangle from the table. “My roommate got overzealous and tried to wash too many towels and our washer revolted, but I need clothes for work.”
“Ah,” Taehyung nods. He finishes adding detergent and closes the lid on the washer. “How does someone try to wash too many towels?”
“We have too many, that’s for sure,” Yoongi snorts, “and I’m pretty sure he tried to wash literally all of them, because I’m waiting for my third load of them to dry. I’ve been here for hours.”
“Why didn’t you just wash them all in different washers?”
“That would have taken up all of the washer. Which would have been rude,” Yoongi shrugs, almost giggling. Taehyung ‘ah’s’, then leans against the wall, watching his laundry spin through the glass.
Taehyung curses when Yoongi tugs sharply on his ear.
“Shit, hyung what the hell?” Taehyung frowns, giving Yoongi a sharp look. It fades, dispersing like smoke, at the concern in Yoongi’s soft eyes.
“I was talking but you spaced out. What’s wrong, kid?” Yoongi asks, eyes searching Taehyung’s face.
“Nothing, I’m just tired,” Taehyung says, pushing his hair from his face, “but I couldn’t sleep. So.”
“Bullshit,” Yoongi pokes his bicep, “you’re alone with me in the laundry room at nearly three in the morning, and you’ve yet to flirt or even smile at me.”
“I told you, I’m-”
The word, the first syllable of his name, Yoongi says it so softly it's almost inaudible over the sounds of the machines. Taehyung feels it, then, the swelling in his throat, the pressure behind his eyes. He really, really doesn’t want to cry in front of Yoongi, but it seems inevitable at this point. Taehyung sighs, and the sound of it is ragged, broken.
Yoongi launches off the table, suddenly. He closes his laptop before sliding it into his backpack and tossing the bag over his shoulder.
“C’mon,” he says, his fingers light on Taehyung’s arm.
“Where are we going?” Taehyung manages to choke out, following after the elder into the hallway.
“Our first date.”
Taehyung manages to swallow down the majority of his tears, only missing a few strays that roll over his cheek. Yoongi leads him across campus, towards the clocktower, towards… They stop in front of Beans&Things, and Taehyung watches silently as Yoongi uses a key to unlock the front door and hold it open for him.
“C’mon. I don’t want to get fired, let’s go,” the elder says, jerking his head towards the dark shop.
“Okay.” Taehyung steps into the darkness, Yoongi quickly following and locking the door behind them.
“Leave the lights off,” Yoongi mentions, moving forward, leaving Taehyung, still a little stunned, by the door.
“Yoongi-hyung, what are we-”
“You want strawberry-banana? Or maybe you’re feeling adventurous and wanna go for the melon?” Yoongi asks, already behind the counter, pulling the blender forward from it’s shelf.
Taehyung starts crying.
“T-that’s fine,” he says, sitting at the nearest table, “strawberry-banana is good.”
It takes Yoongi five minutes, then he’s plopping into the chair across from Taehyung, sliding the smoothie across the table to him.
“Talk to me, Taehyung,” he says, and Taehyung nods, taking a few sips of his smoothie before speaking.
“I just… I thought I had everything under control, but they made me drop a class today,” Taehyung begins, trying to blink back more tears. “Apparently, my academic performance was suffering, and they didn’t want to see me fail.”
“Assholes,” Yoongi says, shaking his head, “they don’t care about you. The only thing they give about is their statistics and reputation.”
“Maybe, yeah, but they were kind of right. I wasn’t doing very well with my time, I was trying to do too much… I was going to fail,” Taehyung shrugs. “I was taking five classes, they made me go down to four.”
“If it makes you feel better, I’m only taking three and I’m doing a pretty suck-tastic job of keeping my shit together,” Yoongi laughs, leaning back in his chair. “It’s not the end of the world. You’re not going to fail, you weren’t going to fail in the first place. But, hey,” Yoongi shrugs, “now you’ll have more freetime.”
“Freetime isn’t really my priority, hyung,” Taehyung says, wiping his face on the sleeve of his hoodie.
“Freetime means you can date, though.”
Taehyung looks up, a smile already on his face because he just can’t help it. Yoongi is smiling back at him, the lines of streetlamp light falling across him from the blinds covering the windows. His eyes are soft, beautiful, and Taehyung can feel the warmth in his gaze.
“Can I kiss you now?” Taehyung asks, already knowing the answer. It seemed appropriate to ask, because Yoongi is just sitting there, looking gentle and sweet in the half-darkness, his pink hair completely hidden under his beanie, his sharp features exposed. Taehyung doesn’t know any other way to say ‘thank you’, but needs to thank Yoongi for… this. All he wants to do is kiss Yoongi until the elder is blushing, that’s all.
“And welcome back, kid,” Yoongi says, but he’s still smiling. He stands, motioning for Taehyung to do the same. “Let’s get back to our laundry.”
The walk back to the dorm is slightly more cheerful, but still quiet. Everything is dark, still, and it’s nice. There’s nobody rushing to class, nobody talking at high volume on their phones. Taehyung likes it, and he can tell Yoongi is more relaxed than he’s ever seen him.
“I wish I had my camera,” Yoongi says suddenly, his voice barely breaking the silence. “I always have it with me, except when I go to work or get dragged to parties. But it’s a beautiful night to take pictures of campus”
“You take pictures?” Taehyung asks, intrigued. He likes pictures.
“Yeah, I’m a photography major,” Yoongi says, as they finally reach the laundry room, “I just haven’t decided on a focus, yet.”
“That’s so cool, hyung,” Taehyung says, reaching into the washer for his clothes. “Who needs a focus, just take pictures of everything.”
“That’s exactly what I said.”
They talk, a little, while Yoongi folds the rest of his towels, creating a stack on the table that nearly towers over him. Yoongi talks more than Taehyung had ever heard him talk. He talks about Namjoon and his roommate Jin, about how Namjoon has a hopeless crush on Jin, and vice versa, but neither one will make a move. Yoongi tells Taehyung about his photos, too, even pulls out his laptop to show him the ones he was editing while waiting for the laundry.
And he lets Taehyung talk, and doesn’t interrupt him when he babbles or forgets what he was saying. Yoongi had asked about Taehyung’s major, and he realized, after talking for fifteen minutes, that he’d gone from talking about marine wildlife, to his dad and siblings, to Jimin’s lovelife. Yoongi never once rolled his eyes or got annoyed with him, though. Yoongi listened to every word, a small smile on his lips.
The harsh buzz of the dryer timer shocks them both back into reality.
“So, um…” Taehyung shrugs, pulling his clothes from the dryer, “does everyone have a key to the coffee shop?”
“No. I do, and Jungkook has an extra, but I’m the assistant-manager. I open the store everyday,” Yoongi says, stacking his baskets on top of each other. The bottom one has wheels, and Taehyung is sort of jealous.
“Wow, prestigious,” Taehyun teases. “Also, please tell me you’re not rolling all the way down to Lake?”
“Hardly,” Yoongi snorts, “and no, I took Jin’s car.”
“So, you open in a few hours?” Taehyung lifts his basket, following Yoongi, rolling his own laundry, out into the hallway.
“Nope. Jungkook owes me, so I’m taking the day off,” Yoongi explains, laughing, “little shit.”
“Okay, so… I’ll see you…?” Taehyung trails off, one foot on the bottom stair, looking at Yoongi across the foyer.
“I’ll… probably get lunch in the dining hall between classes.” Yoongi looks away, his nose turning pink.
“Huh, okay. Maybe I’ll see you then,” Taehyung says with a smile.
“Yeah, maybe,” Yoongi nods, his lips curling to the side, “goodnight, Taehyung.”
Taehyung drops his laundry basket on the floor when he gets back to his dorm, not even bothering to clean the rest of his room. Tomorrow, he can finish, but right now, he needs to sleep. Talking to Yoongi had been nice, more than nice, it had been refreshing. Taehyung can’t remember when he’d had such a conversation, outside of Jimin and Hoseok, and the random chats with labpartners. Taehyung feels like a weight has been lifted, and he knows that the person he has to thank for this has dark, half-moon eyes and soft pink hair, and a smile that looks like dawn crashing over the sea.
Yoongi is reading over his online assignment, his food half-forgotten, when he hears Taehyung’s deep whispering voice. He glances up, searching for the familiar tangle of dark hair, and spots Taehyung a few feet away, his friend Jimin behind him. Jimin has his fingers wrapped around Taehyung’s elbow, holding the taller boy still. They seem to be… arguing over something?
“Hyung,” Taehyung says, marching over, “please tell him he can sit with us, that it’s not a date.”
“Jimin, you can sit with us, this isn’t a date,” Yoongi repeats, quirking an eyebrow. The boy in question turns pink as Taehyung giggles, grinning, and they both sit down at the table, across from Yoongi.
“Well good afternoon, sunshine,” Taehyung says to Yoongi, cracking open his can of soda.
For the next week, when his and Taehyung’s schedules allow, Yoongi spends his lunchtime in a pretty similar fashion. Taehyung finds him, sometimes with Jimin, sometimes without, and they eat and chat the hour away. At some point, Taehyung asks for Yoongi’s number, a little more shyly than Yoongi would have thought possible, but he gives it to him anyway.
Kind of a bad idea (not really).
Taehyung, Yoongi finds out, has a habit of getting bored and spamming Yoongi’s phone throughout the day. And night. But it doesn’t bother Yoongi, not really, not when he glances down at his phone screen to see memes about photography, or selfies of Taehyung with one of his fish. Yoongi will wake up in the middle of the night, for whatever reason, to voicemails, too, groggily recorded messages that Taehyung sends him that detail dreams the younger has had. The one about the underwater Elephant is Yoongi’s favorite.
Yoongi is at work, sitting in the back on his break, when his phone buzzes. He digs it from his pocket, and doesn’t bother checking the screen because he already knows who it is. The message is a link to a website, and when Yoongi opens it, he laughs. The link took him to the ‘Grand Opening of the Shark Exhibit’ page on the website for the aquarium in the next city. A message flashes on Yoongi’s screen while he’s scrolling down the page. It’s from Taehyung.
“2nd date? This weekend”
Yoongi bites his lip to hide his smile as he sends back a ‘sure’.
Yoongi asks Jin if he can borrow his car for that day, then he offers to drive, and by the time it’s nine AM on Saturday, Taehyung has already sent a series of emoji-only texts detailing how excited he is.
“This is gonna be so fun,” Taehyung says the moment he slides into the passenger seat. “I know it’s a date and all, but do you mind if I take notes while we’re there? I have an assignment for one of my classes dealing with behavioral differences between wildlife born in captivity versus brought into captivity.”
“Go ahead,” Yoongi says, pulling out of the parking lot, “I brought my camera, so you won’t be the only one multitasking.”
“Oh, I get to see the sexy photographer in action,” Taehyung teases, smiling over at Yoongi. Yoongi can see him from his peripheral (eyes on the road, kids), and he’s sure Taehyung can see the way his face warms.
“Yep, but don’t expect to get any action in front of the fish. Don’t want them traumatized.”
Taehyung giggles, and it’s a beautiful sound.
By the time they’ve made it through half the aquarium, they’ve arrive at the shark exhibit. Yoongi could lie and say he’s totally fine, but he’s not. He’s more than a little freaked out. The exhibit is one of those underwater-tunnel-types (deathtraps) and the entire corridor makes Yoongi feel almost claustrophobic, with it’s muted yet echoed feel, the blue haze. There are shadows drifting across the floor, huge as fuck shadows, and Yoongi really, really doesn’t want to look up.
Then there’s Taehyung.
Taehyung goes full spazz mode, flitting around, pressing his nose to every inch of glass he can reach when he isn’t scribbling down observations. Yoongi is almost sure that if Taehyung could, he’d get inside the exhibit (he definitely would). This is a side of Taehyung that Yoongi hasn’t seen yet, and he has to admit, it’s kind of cute. He’s seen flirty Taehyung, with his bedroom eyes and lazy smirk, and he’s seen anxious Taehyung, with shaky hands and garbled words.
This Taehyung is different. This Taehyung is a broad, full smile, endless throaty giggles, and bright, child-like eyes. This Taehyung is wholly, and painfully, cute. And Yoongi really kind of likes this side of the younger. This Taehyung helps ease Yoongi’s nerves, the tightening of apprehension in his chest loosening till it’s almost gone. This Taehyung… Yoongi wants to kiss this Taehyung.
Before he can follow up that train of thought, the massive whale shark that has been circling at a distance decides to get a closer look. He floats over, his tail barely moving, looming like a colossus. The bronze inlay on the wall says “Rhincodon typus - 9.5 m”. He’s so close; his shadow falls over Taehyung, over half the corridor, completely enveloping the awed boy. The creature moves from above them, over the curve of the arched glass, and starts floating towards Taehyung, parallel to the glass. Taehyung is staring, his eyes curved with the barest hint of a smile, his lips parted as if he’s listening to a conversation only he can hear.
Yoongi, though, Yoongi is so busy being awed by the boy in front of him, that he almost forgets his camera is in his hands. He lifts it, as soon as he remembers, and captures the moment. He captures the connection that Taehyung is having with the goliath of the sea, captures it over and over, until he has the perfect shot, the perfect memory. Then Taehyung notices, and he turns a dazzling smile towards the camera, and Yoongi melts, his heart kicking up speed. He manages to hit the shutter-release and capture that too, though no photo will ever come close to reality.
Then Taehyung gets silly again, of course. He makes dumb faces, pulls ridiculous poses, starts doing some kind of provocative stripper-dance. And Yoongi doesn’t stop taking pictures.
“Hyung,” Taehyung says, smiling and out of breath, “you, too.” He pulls his phone from his pocket and Yoongi stills. Yoongi may love the camera, but he likes being on one side, not the other. But Taehyung’s hand is gentle on hip, pulling him over, to the other side of the lens, and Yoongi doesn’t want to say no. He settles against Taehyung’s side, their backs to the glass, the whale shark still ambling along behind them. The part of Yoongi that is a photographer knows the lighting is off, knows the angle is terrible, knows that the composition of the photo will be shit, but he can’t stop himself from pressing his cheek against Taehyung’s and smiling. He doesn’t want to stop himself. He wants to take this photo with his date, with the boy he’s (kind of) hopelessly falling for.
Taehyung uses one hand to take the photos, just a few in contrast to the dozens that Yoongi got of him. Yoongi smiles with Taehyung does, sticks his tongue out when he’s prompted to. He narrows his eyes and pouts when Taehyung says ‘now, sexy!’. Then Taehyung moves away, grinning down at his phone as he reviews the photos. His face is lit from the phone, his eyes are glowing in mirth… he’s beautiful. Everything about him, and Yoongi is tired of not kissing him. So he fixes that.
Yoongi leans in, wrapping one hand around Taehyung’s wrist to get his attention. When Taehyung turns, his eyes droop, just a little, and Yoongi guesses that he must be able to read his expression. His eyes flick down to Yoongi’s mouth, and the elder knows he has permission.
As their lips touch, Yoongi feels the huff of breath that Taehyung exhales from his nose fan over his face. He feels the smile that Taehyung struggles to hold in against his mouth. His lips are soft and full under Yoongi’s, warm and sweet. He tastes like citrus, like oranges, though Yoongi wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d tasted like damn bananas. As Yoongi pulls away, his eyes fluttering open and his stomach flip-flopping into his ass, Taehyung’s gentle fingers find the hair at the base of his skull, and he’s being pulled into another kiss.
Taehyung doesn’t so much as kiss Yoongi, as he does ghost his lips over the elder’s. Taehyung presses his lips to Yoongi’s over and over, stealing butterfly kisses, stealing Yoongi’s breath, his heart. Taehyung is so damn gentle, too, painfully so, and it causes a whirlwind of heated chills to sweep through Yoongi’s chest. Yoongi has never been kissed like this, never with such regard or reverence. It makes Yoongi want more, need more, and he presses just a little harder, moving his mouth, and Taehyung moves right along with him. The kiss turns into wet lips and fingertips on cheeks, on jaws, and even though Yoongi can feel the need in the kiss, it loses none of it’s tenderness or it’s affection.
Yoongi is breathless when they pull away, and Taehyung, with his goofy, blushing grin, makes it hard to even catch his breath, his heart shaking in his chest.
“This is only our second date,” Taehyung breathes.
An hour later, they’re walking hand in hand, debating on whether to eat at the aquarium’s cafeteria, or to go out for lunch. Yoongi doesn’t even get the fluttery warning, this time, before a sharp pain echos behind his left eye.
“Shit,” he blurts, pressing his palm to his socket. No, not now, please not now.
“Yoongi?” Taehyung asks, his hand on Yoongi’s hair, concern in his voice.
“I’m fine… where’s….where’s the bathroom?” Yoongi mutters, already squinting. He feels the first wave of nausea roll through his gut, followed by dread, then panic.
“This way,” Taehyung says, and without question, squeezes Yoongi’s hand and leads him down the hallway.
Yoongi’s mind goes blank, after that, as pain unfurls through his skull, nothing but bright whiteness in his thoughts. He blindly lets Taehyung guide him, till he hears his own rough pants echoing around him, and the moment his knees hit the pristine tile floor, Yoongi’s heaving. Mortification at Taehyung seeing him, like this, flares for a moment in his gut, but there’s nothing he can do, so he ignores it. He doesn't even know where Taehyung is, can’t find the motivation to look up, look for him…
Something damp and cool is pressed to the back of his neck, and even though his body temperature has dropped, it feels good. It doesn’t break through the blurred pain, but it’s nice anyway. Yoongi can hear Taehyung now, the boy is kneeling beside him, murmuring soft words. Yoongi can’t make out what he’s saying, but it chokes him up regardless, because now Taehyung’s nails are scratching lightly at his scalp and Yoongi can almost think clearly.
“I’m here, Yoongi. It’s okay.”
Yoongi wants to cry when Taehyung’s forehead presses against his shoulder blade. Here he is, laying on the floor in a public bathroom, going through the excruciating, familiar motions of a migraine, puking his life away… and Taehyung is literally by his side.
Yoongi would kiss him if he weren’t otherwise occupied.
He doesn’t know how long he spends choking and spitting into the toilet, but it’s long enough that staff from the aquarium come to check on him. Taehyung shoos them away with soft words, something about a bad lunch, and Yoongi is more than grateful. When the boiling in his stomach dies down, he leans back, falling onto his ass so he can rest against the stall. Taehyung hands him a bottle of water.
“The staff brought it. They said not to drink the tap,” he says softly.
“Wasn’t going to,” Yoongi croaks. He takes a few tentative sips, his eyes closed. It seems the puking has passed, but his stomach still feels like a ship on an unruly sea.
“Let me take you home. Can you walk? I have sunglasses in my bag in the car,” Taehyung says, standing again.
“How did you know?”
“My mom gets migraines,” is all Taehyung says, before he’s helping Yoongi to his feet. Yoongi greedily takes Taehyung’s whispered offer to ‘lean on me, hyung’, and lets the younger lead him through the aquarium, back to the parking lot and to the car.
Taehyung offers to drive, even though Yoongi obviously can’t, and Yoongi passes him the keys without question. They’re halfway back to town, when Yoongi suddenly remembers something. He groans, his breath fogging the window where he’s resting his pounding head.
“I can’t go home,” Yoongi says, looking over to blink at Taehyung. “Jin’s parents are visiting this weekend… I can’t deal with his mom, not like this. I love her but she’s so goddamn loud.”
“Do you want to come back to the dorm? Jimin will be at work until really late and I’ve got nausea pills and this tea my mom swears helps,” Taehyung glances over, offering Yoongi a smile, before returning his eyes to the road.
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, “yeah, that’s okay. Thanks.”
Taehyung could have been the worst driver, but Yoongi wasn’t even able to pay attention. By the time he felt the car stop (thank fucking God he didn’t get motion sickness), the pain was numbing. He doesn’t even know how Taehyung got him up the stairs, but soon enough, he’s being set down on a mattress, and Taehyung is tugging off his shoes.
“I don’t want to freak you out, but take your pants off. You’ll be more comfortable, hyung,” Taehyung says, patting Yoongi’s thigh. Yoongi nods, undoing his belt and jeans, and falls back, letting Taehyung tug the material from his legs. Between waves of dizziness, Yoongi almost laughs, because wow, this is not how he imagined Taehyung undressing him for the first time. Whatever, though, because the kid was right, he is more comfortable. Maybe he had dressed for the occasion, and his jeans were way too tight to sleep in, but just tight enough to give Taehyung illusions about what he’d look like without any pants.
Yoongi rolls under the blanket in Taehyung’s bed, pressing his throbbing skull into the pillow. It smells like Taehyung, like citrus and warm skin, a gentle musky scent. Yoongi likes it. Taehyung leaves the room for a little while, returning with tea and some low dose PM painkillers. They won’t do much for pain, but hopefully they’ll help him sleep it off. The tea is gross, bitter and mint-gingery, but he drinks it all at Taehyung’s worried look.
Then Taehyung climbs over him to lay against the wall, on top of the blanket, and he cards his fingers into Yoongi’s damp hair, gently massaging his scalp. It doesn't work miracles, Yoongi’s beyond even that, but every spot where Taehyung applies pressure hurts a little less for just a moment. It’s enough to help Yoongi drift into a fitful, pitiful sleep.
He’s disoriented as fuck when he wakes up. Blessedly, it’s dark and quiet, save for the tiniest of snores coming from above Yoongi. His cheek is squished against something warm and wet, and he realizes, inwardly groaning, that it’s Taehyung’s shoulder. And drool. Gross. Yoongi raises a hand to wipe his face, then blinks around, trying to discern what time it is.
“Yoongi?” He jumps slightly at the sound of Taehyung’s voice, but he grunts in response. “You okay now?”
“Yeah,” Yoongi says, sitting up, testing the waters, “I think I’m okay.”
“I’m really glad,” Taehyung mumbles, already falling back asleep. Yoongi tries to sit up, but a hand comes around his hip. “Where are you going?”
“I gotta pee,” Yoongi chuckles, though it still hurts just a little to do so. Taehyung hums and lets him go.
In the bathroom, Yoongi quietly does his business, then washes his hands and splashes his face. He uses some of the mouthwash in the cabinet to get rid of the dull taste of ginger in his mouth, too. Hopefully Taehyung won’t mind. Yoongi is still tired, but when he slips back into Taehyung’s room and into the bed, he asks what time it is.
“Uh,” Taehyung reaches to the windowsill behind him, moving aside what looks like a giant fleece blanket-turned-curtain to check his phone where it sits on the ledge. Okay then. “It’s… three-fifteen,” he says, rolling back over to face Yoongi.
“I slept for over twelve hours?”
“It’s the tea, dude.”
Yoongi laughs a little, falling back against his stolen pillow. He turns his face towards Taehyung, only to find the younger looking at him, one eye cracked open.
“It is okay that I’m in bed with you? I left you after you fell asleep, after I hung the blanket to block the sun, did homework and got dinner, but when I took a shower I forgot clothes. When I came in to get some, you were shivering, so… I kind of cuddled you,” Taehyung admits, and even in the dim light barely pushing through the makeshift curtain, Yoongi can see the tips of his ears darken.
“Did you touch my butt?” Yoongi asks, with as even a voice as he can manage.
“Not… no, but I kind of… big-spooned you, and…,” Taehyung closes his eyes, taking a deep breath, “I got a boner, so I rolled over, but you followed me and you kind of kneed me in the dick.”
It hurts immensely, but Yoongi laughs, curling over onto his side as he shakes with the force of it. Taehyung is pouting, but there’s a curl to his lips that hints at a smile, and Yoongi doesn’t stop laughing until the pressure behind his eyes becomes unbearable. Taehyung finally smiles, his face hazy and sleepy, and he’s so pretty like this. His hair's a mess, like always, fanning across his pillow and sweeping over his forehead.
“Ah, Tae,” Yoongi gasps, rubbing his eyes, “I’m sorry I kneed you in the dick. And I’m sorry I ruined our date, but… thank you, for… you know.”
“You didn’t ruin it. I got to kiss you, Yoongi. Nothing can ruin that,” Taehyung says softly, and Yoongi feels, still rubbing his eyes, Taehyung’s fingers on his cheek. Warmth blooms in his chest, and it starts to move a little bit lower, but… no, he definitely isn't up for that, not yet.
Yoongi opens his eyes, galaxies and starbursts popping in his vision, and Taehyung’s face is right there, smiling and so damn cute. Yoongi really can’t help himself, when he shifts a little closer and kisses Taehyung again, meeting the younger’s lips over the space between their pillows. Taehyung lets out a little sound of surprise, before he’s pressing back, his lips parting, but he pulls back, seemingly worried he’s gone too far.
But Yoongi wants, so Yoongi moves even closer, this time parting Taehyung’s lips with his own, and the younger actually whimpers. The kiss is far from chaste, but there’s an innocence to it, even as Yoongi traces Taehyung’s lip with his tongue. The kiss deepens, becomes a little more wet, a little more… hot. Taehyung fists one hand in Yoongi’s t-shirt and grips the elder’s hip with his other hands, his touch heated and comfortable. Yoongi is cupping Taehyung’s jaw, as his tongue sweeps in, evicting Taehyung’s from his mouth, bringing it over to Yoongi’s. The space between them warms, becomes magnetic, drawing them together effortlessly. Yoongi is lost in Taehyung’s mouth, in the sound of Taehyung’s breathing. Yoongi is lost in the buzz in his own skull, the dull remnants of his migraine still throbbing.
It isn’t until Yoongi presses even closer that he, and Taehyung, realize just how bad he wants.
“Shit, hyung,” Taehyung groans, his forehead gently knocking against Yoongi’s. “I’m over here desperately trying to hide mine, but your dick is hard as a fucking rock.”
“Sorry,” Yoongi mutters, gasping for air. His head is spinning, and not just from the kiss.
“Um, please refrain from apologizing for being attracted to me in the future, ‘kay?” Taehyung giggles, pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead. “Do you… wanna go home, or…?”
“I can stay,” Yoongi says, looking down at Taehyung’s chest, counting his breaths, “I want to stay.”
“Okay. C’mere, then,” Taehyung opens his arms, and Yoongi eases towards him, careful not to… well, bump boners. He presses his nose against Taehyung’s throat, breathing deep, feeling warm and… safe.
“You smell nice, Tae,” Yoongi says, nuzzling further as subtle as he can. Taehyung’s chest rumbles in a low laugh, but he responds by stroking his gentle, affectionate fingers through Yoongi’s hair.
For the record, he’s not complaining. Complaining is the uttermost last thing on his mind, over the course of the next weeks, because Taehyung is too busy reveling in his newfound discovery; Yoongi loves, absolutely loves kissing, and he’s not shy about this fact in the least. And if Yoongi loves it, Taehyung loves it. Taehyung doesn’t think anyone on this Earth can kiss like Yoongi.
Yoongi’s kisses are pure, genuine expressions, giving Taehyung a glimpse into the elder's mind, his heart. His kisses are precious, soft and gentle, like the down of an angel’s feathers, like the distant twinkle of a star. They fill Taehyung up with air, like helium, bubbling in his chest until he’s afraid he’s going to float away, strung up like glowing fairy lights.
Yoongi kisses Taehyung when he greets him, kisses him when he leaves. He kisses Taehyung, sweet and fleeting, when they have to part for work or class. All it takes is one look, one smile, and Taehyung finds his lips on Yoongi’s, molding together and moving mountains, from where the elder is perched on the arm of the couch, or the table in the laundry room of the dorm. Yoongi’s palms slide over his neck, his chest, through his hair, the pressure light, leaving Taehyung trembling in the wake of Yoongi’s adoration. Every kiss leaves him aching, in every part of him. From the roots of his hair to the tips his toes, he aches, sickly sweet. Yearning.
Then there are the kisses that turn breathy and sharp, shared between the sheets of either Taehyung’s bed or Yoongi’s.
Taehyung has always been a cuddler, he’s a master at it, whether it be with Jimin or his siblings, friends or lovers. But nothing, not a goddamn thing, not even a handbook written and notarized by God himself, could have prepared Taehyung for the way Yoongi fit in his embrace. He and Yoongi crossed a line, that day the elder had a migraine, they crossed that boundary between casual skinship and the need to be near one another. One night, Taehyung had woken up to the sound of his ringtone, Yoongi on the line, his shy, whispering voice asking, ‘can I come over?’. They slept together at least twice a week, cuddled under the blankets with a laptop, a movie on the screen. Then Yoongi would curl up against Taehyung’s skin, slipping beneath the surface, finding a Yoongi-shaped harbor in Taehyung’s body.
It was different, at first, but not uncomfortable. Taehyung had, in the past, become accustomed to his one-time lovers passing out next to him, sated and praising his skills, only to leave the next morning.
Yoongi keeps his clothes on and stays for breakfast.
Not every night he stays, but sometimes, as the credits begin rolling, Yoongi will gently close his laptop and move it to the end table, then he’ll turn back, his eyes deep and asking. Taehyung loses himself, then. He loses himself in the way Yoongi kisses, with lips, tongue, and even teeth. He loses himself in Yoongi’s smooth, insistant body pressed against his own, the elder just as flushed, just as hard as Taehyung is. It’s a damn struggle, but Taehyung manages to keep his hands above Yoongi’s hips, keep his fingertips from trailing past Yoongi’s ribs. It gets hot, each time, under the blankets, too many clothes, too much need. The both of them sweat, sticking together in a way that shouldn’t be pleasant, but is, tongues swiping at salted skin.
Taehyung doesn’t know if he’s found himself in Heaven or Hell, to be honest. Either way, damned or not, Taehyung wouldn’t give up Yoongi in his arms for anything.
Weeks pass. The days get a little shorter, the nights a little cooler. Taehyung spends time with Yoongi, goes to class, and helps Hoseok plan a surprise visit to see Jimin, with Yoongi’s help (he offers). Hoseok won’t be able to come to town for Jimin’s birthday, but he’s able to come the weekend before. Taehyung and Yoongi manage to come up with an elaborate story, about how Yoongi has to go out of town for a photography assignment, so he won’t be able to celebrate Jimin’s birthday but he still wants to treat them to lunch. The only difference between the truth and the lie is that Jimin will be at the restaurant waiting, but instead of Taehyung and Yoongi, Hoseok will be the one to show up. Taehyung and Yoongi will arrive a little later, reveal their schemes, etc, etc (Yoongi’s idea).
“You’re okay with me staying tonight?” Taehyung asks Yoongi, as they sit on a bench outside the restaurant. He’s been meaning to ask, but he’d never quite found the time. Better late than never, he guesses, if by late it means after they’ve been sitting outside the restaurant, stalking their friends for fifteen minutes. Great.
“I’m the one who offered,” Yoongi says, smiling a little as he rolls his eyes. “Don’t worry, I promise I don’t mind. I like when you come over.”
“Okay. Good,” Taehyung smiles, checking the time on his phone. “It’s been over an hour since Hoseok texted me. Should we go in now?”
“Yeah. I have class and it’s going to take me probably fifteen minutes to get back to campus,” Yoongi stands, stretching, “so I’ll go in and say hi, then I need to go.”
Part of the lie that Taehyung had told his friend was that he and Yoongi would meet him in the back corner of the diner, one of the more intimate areas. So Taehyung and Yoongi head inside and take a right, waving off the hostess as they do so. Taehyung can already hear Jimin’s soft giggles, hear Hoseok’s voice speaking in low, affectionate tones. Taehyung can’t help but smile, because he and Yoongi had managed to pull off this simple little stunt. That, and he loves Jimin to bits, so a happy Jimin means a happy Taehyung.
“Hey, wait…,” Yoongi mumbles as they round the corner of a row a booths, Jimin and Hoseok’s table directly in front of them.
“Jiminie! Hobi-hyung” Taehyung shouts, raising his arms up. Jimin jumps a little in his chair, but he turns, beaming, Hoseok smiling behind him. Then Hoseok’s smile fades slightly.
“Yoongi?” Hoseok breathes, his eyes wide. “Oh my God… your hair is pink.”
“Hi, Hoseok,” Yoongi says, lowering his eyes. Taehyung looks back and forth between the two of them, once, but he gets impatient after neither of them say anything else.
“Someone, please, Jimin and I are lost,” Taehyung ventures, giving each of them pointed looks. Jimin does look just as confused, cocking his own eyebrow at his boyfriend.
“Oh,” Hoseok finally says, standing with a smile on his face, “Yoongi and I dated in high school.”
Taehyung (and Jimin, though, duh) stare, surprised, as Hoseok moves towards them and folds Yoongi into a hug. The elder hugs him back, a soft smile on his face, and no, that is not the dull tug of jealousy in Taehyung’s gut.
“Ahh, intrigue,” Jimin says. Hoseok snorts, sliding back into his chair.
“Hardly. It was, what? End of junior year? We broke up pretty amicably because Yoongi moved,” Hoseok explains. “We weren’t soulmates or anything, obviously.”
“Or, are you?” Taehyung says, widening his eyes comically for emphasis, sliding into the empty chair next to Jimin, who's too busy rolling his eyes to bother commenting.
“Oh, shut up Tae,” Yoongi says, but he’s blushing.
“Yeah, shut up, Tae.”
“Hobi-hyung! I’m offended,” Taehyung gasps, reaching for Jimin’s drink.
“I see, Yoongi can tell you to shut up, but I can’t?” Hoseok laughs. “Point is, I met my actual soulmate, Park Jimin, anyway. So. How do you two know each other?”
Taehyung hears the question, but he’s too busy cooing over a blushing Jimin, who’s flustered at Hoseok’s soulmate comment. He also hears Yoongi’s reply of ‘we’re dating’, which doesn't register as anything weird, until Hoseok’s jaw breaks the table.
“You’re… dating Taehyung?” he asks, pointing a finger at Taehyung’s chest. “This one? Right here?”
“Yes, jeez,” Yoongi says, checking his phone, “I am dating that Taehyung, and I’m going to be late for class, so….”
Taehyung lifts his face, letting Yoongi’s lips brush over his softly.
“Bye, hyung,” he says, smiling at the elder. Yoongi smiles back, then gives a small nod to the other two.
“We can all hang out sometime while you’re here, okay?” The elder’s words are met by three matching nods, and he snorts. “I’ll see you back at the apartment, Taehyung.”
Yoongi leaves (after another kiss), and disappears back towards the exit. Taehyung turns, words already on his tongue, but Hoseok cuts him off.
“You’re staying with him?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung nods, picking food from Jimin’s plate, “Just tonight. To give you two some privacy.”
“You don’t have to do that, TaeTae,” Jimin says, but Taehyung always has his bff-glasses on, and he can see the excited undertone in Jimin’s voice.
“No, he kind of did. I mean, that thing you did on Skype the other day? I need to see that in person,” Hoseok shrugs, turning his gaze back to a giggling Taehyung.
“Oh my God, hyung,” Jimin groans, letting his head fall to his arms on the table. Hoseok spares him a fond smile, then he speaks to Taehyung again.
“So… are you two fucking?” he asks, tilting his head like he’s listening intently to something only he can hear.
“Of course they are, this is Taehyung we’re talk-”
“No,” Taehyung cuts Jimin off with a glance and a shake of his head, “we haven’t had sex.”
Twin sets of eyes stare at Taehyung, mirrors of shock and wonder. Taehyung sighs.
“Yeah, I know, I know. It’s been almost what, two months…? And we haven’t had sex yet,” Taehyung shrugs, grinning.
“Wait, no, hold the fuck up,” Jimin says, sitting up straighter to stare at Taehyung. “You mean, you’ve been sleeping over at Yoongi’s, he’s been sleeping over at the dorm, and you’re… not having sex?”
“Nope,” Taehyung grins, “we make out though.”
“Oh, shit,” Jimin mumbles.
“It makes sense,” Hoseok mutters thoughtfully. After Taehyung cocks his head, he continues, “I mean, Yoongi isn’t into casual sex, which I’m assuming you know by now. He’s strictly relationship-sex only.”
“Yeah, I knew the no-casual-sex part,” Taehyung nods, then shrugs, “but I don’t mind not sleeping with him. I mean, I want to… but you know.”
“You like him,” Hoseok states, his smile broad and knowing. “If you’ve gone two months without sex, exclusively dating only him… you like him.”
“I do like him,” Taehyung nods.
Taehyung must have missed the moment his crush, and his dicklust, morphed into actual feelings for Yoongi.
Well. This changes things. Not much, admittedly, but enough. Taehyung likes Yoongi, likes him as in he hasn’t had sex in two months, likes him as in he likes going on dates and holding hands, likes saying ‘goodnight’ and ‘good morning’ with about roughly eight hours between. Taehyung likes Yoongi. Taehyung likes Yoongi. As for Yoongi… Yoongi likes Taehyung, Taehyung doesn’t doubt that, or he would have put an end to the dates, the kissing, the… making out, weeks ago. What does Taehyung do now?
“Ah, intrigue,” Jimin mutters for the second time.
Taehyung has never been so offended in his life.
“How can you not like Hayao Miyazaki’s animations, hyung?”
“Jesus, Tae, I didn’t say I didn’t like them, I said they’re weird,” Yoongi huffs, putting the Princess Mononoke DVD back in it’s case.
“It’s the same thing, Yoongi,” Taehyung huffs back, falling against the pillows.
“Is not,” Yoongi argues, plopping back onto his side of the bed, “you’re weird, but I like you.”
Taehyung glances over, memories of the day flooding back. Taehyung’s realization, Hoseok’s warning.
“If you don’t plan on getting serious, don’t drag this out, Taehyung,” he’d said, his sunny disposition replaced by seriousness. “Yoongi isn’t afraid of getting hurt, I guess, not if he’s so open to dating a serial casual-sexer, but he does have a particular way of doing things. Don’t let things end up with both of you hurt.”
Taehyung didn’t plan on it, but he does suppose it’s time he starts thinking seriously. Up until now, he’s just been… dating. Somewhere along the way, though, he’d already sort of gotten serious though. He likes the idea.
He lets these thoughts fade, though, because Yoongi is rolling over to look at him, backlit by the blue-shaded lamp. His hair is still a slightly damp mess from his shower, his cheeks flushed because he’s aware of the words he just said. Not to mention, Taehyung was just staring (oops).
“What are you thinking about?” Yoongi asks, his voice soft, laced with something else, something deeper.
“You,” Taehyung admits. He’s not lying, at least. Yoongi grins, slow and lazily, and it shouldn’t be as sexy as it is.
“Kiss me,” he says, lifting his face. Taehyung doesn’t even think twice.
He rolls over, straddling Yoongi’s hips, which is new, but he doesn’t go for Yoongi’s mouth, not yet. He starts at Yoongi’s collarbone, left bare by the loose black t-shirt the elder had been pulling on as Taehyung arrived. He tastes skin, salty and warm, and a hint of soap, bitter and weird. Oddly, it works. Taehyung tastes Yoongi’s skin, soft beneath his lips, from the neckline of the shirt, all the way up his neck, over his thrumming pulse. Yoongi lets his head fall to the side, giving Taehyung access to more of his warm, flushed skin, and Taehyung’s body hums.
Yoongi has a spot, right below his right ear, that is just so sensitive, and Taehyung searches for it, his lips sucking gently, his tongue smoothing over the skin that grows bumpy under his mouth.
Yoongi’s hands find his hips, his grip both hard and soft, as Taehyung sucks his way over the column of Yoongi’s throat, below his chin. Yoongi lolls his head, shifting as Taehyung does, letting him taste more and more. Yoongi is already panting beneath him, his chest bumping against Taehyung’s, as Taehyung tongues over Yoongi’s earlobe, tasting the cold metal hoop there.
“When I said me, I meant my mouth,” Yoongi chuckles, his voice low and hitched.
“See, if you had just said that,” Taehyung breathes in reply against Yoongi’s neck, and the elder shivers.
Taehyung takes his time, however, making sure his tongue has tasted every inch of Yoongi’s neck that he can reach. Then he makes sure that his teeth have grazed Yoongi’s pulse, grazed every small spot that pulls a reaction from the elder, before Taehyung finally kisses him.
Yoongi’s mouth his harsh on his own, harsh yet so gentle, his tongue not even asking for permission before it’s in Taehyung’s mouth, sliding against Taehyung’s tongue in a way that makes them both shudder. Taehyung isn’t a writer, and he’s pretty shit at using words, but he thinks he could write ballads and sonnets about Yoongi’s tongue, about the way Yoongi kisses him, like he’s trying to both drown him and breathe life back into him at the same time. The elder’s fingertips are chilled where they press into Taehyung’s t-shirt over his ribs, but Yoongi’s mouth his warm. Warm, then hot, as Yoongi sucks Taehyung’s tongue between his own lips, nipping at the tip.
“Fuck, hyung,” Taehyung groans when he gets it back, “Fuck,-”
Taehyung tangles his fingers in Yoongi’s hair, the strands soft and almost-dry, and he angles the kiss, dragging his own tongue against Yoongi’s teeth, Yoongi’s tongue, the taste of mint and Yoongi permeating his senses. Yoongi moans into the kiss, a weak, desperate sound that Taehyung hasn’t heard before, and it makes his half-hard cock twitch, heat flooding through his bones like the flames of the sun. Yoongi’s chilly hands slip under the hem of his t-shirt and dance over the skin of his belly, fanning the flames, and Taehyung is so distracted by the burn that he misses Yoongi’s words.
“W-what?” he asks, because no way, Yoongi did not just say-
“Can I touch you?” Yoongi repeats, his voice deep and… fuck, deep and dripping in need. “Your… I wanna feel you.”
“Yes, you can touch me, hyung- shit, yes,” Taehyung groans, his mouth back on Yoongi’s, kissing him hard.
One of Yoongi’s hands trail a little further down, his blunt nails scratching lightly at the skin. His fingers catch on the waistband of Taehyung’s sweats and Taehyung’s hips jerk forward a little, but Yoongi’s hand keeps moving, down, down, until Yoongi’s palm is pressing down on his hard length through the material.
Taehyung probably could have been embarrassed of the sound that escapes his mouth, but he can’t, because holy shit. His own hand is the only action his dick has had in weeks, and Yoongi’s hand is hot and feels sofuckinggood as it massages him through the material. Taehyung sits back a little, pulling away from Yoongi’s mouth to give the elder more room to stroke him, and he actually whimpers when Yoongi grips him, his fingers tangling in the fabric.
Then Taehyung opens his eyes, as much as he can as hot, burning pleasure assaults him, and oh, God.
Yoongi looks so fucking pretty, lying beneath him, his head thrown back while he watches Taehyung’s face, watches the effect his palm has on Taehyung’s cock. Yoongi’s lips are parted, slick and swollen from Taehyung’s teeth, his eyes dark as tar and lidded, glittering in the low light. The sight makes Taehyung’s dick twitch, leaking, and there’s no way Yoongi doesn’t feel it, because he squeezes.
“Tae,” Yoongi gasps, and the hint of demand in his name has Taehyung melting, “take them off?”
Yoongi phrases it as a question, but Taehyung takes it as permission, because he’s hard as fuck and he wants to cum. He wants to cum so bad that he stands so fast he almost trips, twice, ripping his sweats and boxers off like they were on fire. But Taehyung is the one on fire as he climbs back on Yoongi’s lap, straddling the elder, his cock curved and throbbing; Taehyung whimpers again when Yoongi’s fingers wrap around him, now searing, so far from cold. Taehyung knows Yoongi is hard too, he can fucking feel Yoongi’s erection pressing against him, but he doesn’t dare ask. Not yet.
“Jesus, Tae, you look-” Yoongi groans, a hand on the back of Taehyung’s neck, dragging him into another hot as sin kiss, “you look so fucking good.”
Taehyung doesn’t even care about the incoherent moans and grunts that come out of his mouth, because Yoongi’s thumb is pressing into his slit, smoothing precum over the head, squeezing and tugging. Taehyung’s hips move on their own, grinding down against Yoongi’s erection, and Taehyung can feel that Yoongi can feel because Yoongi’s teeth are tugging at his bottom lip.
Then Taehyung can feel that he’s close, dangerously close, the heat in his belly spreading, pooling a little lower, ready to explode. It’s all he can do to gasp out a warning.
“Hyung-fuck, Yoongi, I’m so close,” Taehyung gasps, knocking his forehead against Yoongi’s as his fingers find themselves back in pink hair. “I haven’t had anyone else touch me in so long, please don’t judge for how fast I’m gonna cum,” Taehyung laughs breathlessly, his breath puffing against Yoongi’s cheek.
“You… wait, what?” Yoongi asks, his hand stilling. Taehyung whimpers, trying to form a reply, and failing. “You’re not having sex?”
“What?” That pulls Taehyung back from the edge, his encroaching orgasm fleeing. “Of course I’m not.”
“But you…,” Yoongi says, catching his breath. “You’re not… seeing other people?”
Taehyung sits back, eyeing Yoongi with his best ‘what the fuck’ face.
“I’m seeing you, Yoongi. I’m dating you. I’m not sleeping around while we’re dating,” he says, smiling a little. He’s not mad, just kind of confused. “I mean… I definitely don’t want to be doing this with anyone but you.”
“Oh,” Yoongi mouths the word more than he says it, and it makes Taehyung giggle.
“I just assumed dating you meant… only dating you?” he rocks his hips forwards, trying to resume the movement of Yoongi’s hand. “You’re silly.”
“Shut up, you’re the silly one,” Yoongi grumbles, but he’s tugging Taehyung back down, his lips on Taehyung’s neck this time. His fingers tighten and Taehyung groans, the heat building like it had never left. “Now show me how bad you want me to get you off.”
Taehyung was so not expecting Yoongi to say something like that, especially not in such a rough, demanding voice. Who knew exclusivity could be such an aphrodisiac? Taehyung sure didn’t, but he’s beginning to understand now, with Yoongi’s teeth scraping over his shoulder and Yoongi’s hand working fucking magic on his cock. Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi, everything is Yoongi. Taehyung suddenly feels selfish.
With his cock throbbing and leaking all over the elder’s hand, his hips stuttering and his toes curling, Taehyung gathers every tiny shred of self control he has to tug Yoongi’s hands from him. His body curses at him, terrible, obscene curses, as he pins Yoongi’s wrists to the mattress, on either side of the elder’s head. Taehyung breathes heavily, gazing down at a confused Yoongi with pleasure-hazed eyes.
“I’ll wait,” he manages to gasp, “for you. I’ll wait till we can both cum.”
Yoongi stares, while Taehyung wills his dick to soften, just a little bit, because it’s kind of painful at this point. Yoongi stares, for just a few seconds, then his eyes flick down to Taehyung’s cock, a bead of precum dripping from the head. Then he looks back up, his eyes a little deeper than before, a little more slitted, and the fucker bites his lip like he’s thinking.
“Take my shorts off,” he says, and Taehyung’s ears buzz. Holy shit.
“Take them off. I’ll get us both off.”
Taehyung asks no more questions. He rips Yoongi’s basketballs shorts and briefs off just as fast as he’d removed his own, tossing them to the floor. He hesitates, for a moment, too caught up at the sight of Yoongi’s hard as hell (and aesthetically pleasing) cock, too concerned with how Yoongi wants to do this. Yoongi only pulls him back, though, over his lap to straddle his hips again, and those long, beautiful fingers wrap around both of them.
Taehyung has never cursed so filthily in all of his sexually promiscuous years.
“Lube, drawer,” Yoongi gasps, his chest flushed. Taehyung barely registers that Yoongi is just as close as he is, then he’s scrambling forward. Yoongi’s mouth latches onto his nipple, his hand gripping them both, and Taehyung almost falls over.
Yoongi removes his hand long enough for Taehyung to pour the clear liquid over his palm, then he’s slicking them up, taking them in both hands, and oh, fuck, Taehyung isn’t going to last.
“Fuck, Tae-” Yoongi says, his head falling back. Taehyung’s only option is to latch onto Yoongi’s collarbones again, which he does happily.
It’s all hot, after that, just hot. Heat and slick and Yoongi’s moans, oh God, Yoongi’s moans. Yoongi’s voice, pitched and broken, could be considered the music of Heaven, as far as Taehyung is concerned. Yoongi sings into his ear while Taehyung decorates his neckline with little pink marks, as Yoongi pumps them both with dizzying pressure. Taehyung thrusts into Yoongi’s grip, his cock sliding deliciously against Yoongi’s, a little thicker than his, and the friction so good it’s painful in a way that makes Taehyung curse into Yoongi’s skin. Heat ebbs and tides in Taehyung’s gut, in his bones, in his heart. They both begin to sweat, Yoongi’s finally-dry hair clumping together on his forehead, and Taehyung’s smooths it away, his fingers trailing over Yoongi’s skin. His legs start to shake at the same time Yoongi’s jaw clenches, close, so close-
Yoongi comes first, biting his lip against his moan, and the sight has Taehyung groaning incoherent sounds of adoration. Yoongi spills over their cocks, the flooding heat almost unbearable, throbbing against his own length, and Taehyung sees bursts of color when his own orgasm hits, Yoongi’s name on his lips. Yoongi milks him through it with one hand, abandoning his own sensitive cock in favor of leaving Taehyung a whining, sated mess.
“That was…” Yoongi pants, his overworked hand falling against the mattress uselessly. Taehyung presses a kiss to Yoongi’s forehead, then rests his own there, his nose brushing the elder’s.
“Yeah, that’s exactly what it was,” Taehyung agrees, laughing a little. “Can we do that again, because holy shit, hyung.”
“Yeah, Tae. Gimme ten minutes,” Yoongi says, his eyes fluttering closed.
Taehyung giggles, kissing Yoongi, and it’s slow this time, tender, just a lazy press of lips with the occasional tangled tongues. Taehyung is glowing, he’s sure of it. He could probably guide a boat in the dark, at this point. Yoongi for sure could. The elder lays there, his breath gradually evening, sprawled out and glistening. Taehyung kisses him again, just because he can’t help it, then he eases off the bed to find something to clean them up with.
After Taehyung made a mad dash to the bathroom for a towel and cleaned them up, he lays back down, foregoing his sweats for just his boxers. Yoongi doesn’t bother with his shorts either, he just tugs his underwear back on, flopping around like a fish.
“I haven’t cum that hard in so fucking long, holy shit,” Yoongi groans, finally flopping over to lay on Taehyung’s shoulder.
“Same,” Taehyung breathes, “I take back the do it again thing, by the way. I can’t feel my bones.” Yoongi laughs, rolling over to turn off the lamp, then rolling back, molding his body to Taehyung’s.
“Night, Tae,” he says, his lips brushing softly over Taehyung’s shoulder.
Yoongi is reclining on the couch, half-asleep, when Jin comes home, bringing the smell of freshly baked danishes with him.
“Is that cherry?” he asks, sniffing the air.
“I’ll get you a plate.”
It’s been a week since his sleep over with Taehyung, since things had gotten hot and… handsy. He hasn’t seen the other boy much, just quick hellos at the shop, a few quick phone call laced with stress and yearning before bed. With midterms coming up, Taehyung has had lab after lab, report after report. Yoongi is lucky enough to have completed his portfolio already, so all he’s waiting on is actual exam week. Hence the laying on the couch in the afternoon, doing absolutely nothing. Yoongi is going to enjoy his free time, enjoy it like hell, and spend most of it imitating a rock. Still, Yoongi misses Taehyung.
He misses his beautiful golden-brown boy, with his quick smile and his throaty laugh. He misses his citrusy taste, his warmth, the way he goes on and on about shit Yoongi doesn’t understand, but loves hearing about anyway. He misses kissing Taehyung, the way he holds Yoongi like he’s precious and kisses him like he’s irresistible. Yoongi’s never had anyone touch his skin like they’re holding his soul in their hands, never until Taehyung. It’s breathtakingly beautiful, enticing, and… terrifying.
“Move your legs, shorty,” Jin demands, tapping Yoongi’s knee, effectively startling Yoongi from his thoughts.
“Jeez, okay,” he grumbles, scooting up and sliding his legs underneath him. “Oh, thanks,” he adds, taking his danish from the elder. It smells heavenly, and for a moment, while he indulges himself, he forgets about his heart. Jin, of course, doesn’t.
“How’s Taehyung? I haven’t seen him around this week,” Jin comments lightly, shoveling his own danish into his mouth at a speed that almost makes Yoongi gag. There’s a tone in his voice that makes Yoongi quirk an eyebrow, though. Jin is shit at the whole interrogation thing. But his heart’s in the right place, so Yoongi just rolls with it.
“He’s busy. Labs, papers. That kind of shit.”
“So you’re still seeing him?” And there it is.
“Yep,” Yoongi nods, leaning to the side to put his empty plate on the table. “What makes you ask?”
“It’s just been a while since you’ve… well, since you’ve had someone. I thought it hadn’t worked out,” Jin shrugs, smiling a little. “I wasn’t sure if I needed to be worried or not.”
“It depends,” Yoongi cocks his head, “do I need to be worried about you and Namjoon?” Jin blushes instantly, dropping his gaze to his lap.
Yoongi, for all his own current romantic happenings, was not unaware of the shift in the relationship between his two best friends. There had been a lot a conversations that began with ‘the other day with Jin-hyung’ or ‘when I was with Namjoon’, when before, the two of them could barely be in the same room without Yoongi present. If they were, they both stuttered and things ended up breaking because they slipped from shaky hands, or someone ended up tripping into a wall because they were staring.
Yoongi had also found the empty condom box in the bathroom trash (obviously not his), and not twenty minutes ago, a condom wrapper in the chair. Which is why he was laying on the couch, because nope.
“No,” Jin finally says, “I don’t think you do. I know he plans on touring, and he knows I plan on staying here for school. We’re talking. It’s… it’s been a long time coming, and I think we both regret waiting two years, so we’re trying to make up for lost time. One way or another.”
“Ah,” Yoongi says. He doesn't know what else to say.
“But, back to Taehyung, please,” Jin claps his hands, suddenly, once again startling Yoongi. “Is that getting serious?”
“I hope so,” Yoongi says truthfully, without thinking. He ignores Jin’s knowing grin as he continues, “I like him. I like him alot, and it’s that dumb, bubbly kind of like where all I do is think about him.”
“Do you think he feels the same?”
“Yeah, I know he does. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t still be around. I just don’t know if… I don’t know where it goes from here,” Yoongi admits. Yoongi was never good with feelings in the first place, and add mutual feelings that were so apparent they all but screamed for the world to hear… Yoongi’s useless.
“You should probably talk about it,” Jin oh so helpfully offers.
Yoongi looks at Jin, biting his lip. Jin, the eldest, one of his best friends since he’d moved to the city for his senior year. They’d met at the restaurant they’d both worked at, and ever since then, Jin had always been Yoongi’s go-to. Even more so than Namjoon. Yoongi loved them both, of course, but sometimes he needed these talks with Jin, his elder, to give him clarity and direction. Jin is as steady as anyone Yoongi had ever met, and he had a way of talking through a situation with a grace that Yoongi definitely envied. Jin was never stingy with his advice, however.
“Do you think someone who has historically been a serial casual sex-only type of person can do a relationship?” Yoongi blurts.
Well apparently Yoongi’s subconscious had already found the crux of the matter.
Jin thinks for a moment, as Yoongi sits there counting the moments, before he speaks.
“I think if this person finds love, then yes, they can.”
“Do you think it would be hypocritical of someone who has historically looked down upon and-or ridiculed casual sex can learn to fucking relax and just enjoy the moment?” Yoongi asks, picking a spot on the far wall to stare at.
“Well, that depends on the person, I think. But,” Jin smiles, “if we’re talking about you… you’ve been seeing Taehyung for weeks. If you decided sex was something you wanted, I don’t think it’s considered ‘casual’ at this point. Not with the feelings that you two have involved.”
“Okay, good. Nice talk,” Yoongi nods, sitting up.
“You should definitely find the time to have that conversation, though,” Jin offers, standing and heading to his room.
“Yes, right. Conversation. Thanks, hyung,” Yoongi responds, already lost in thought. Sex with Taehyung, sexwithTaehyung, his mind repeats it over and over, because memories of the other night are still emblazoned under his skin. Taehyung’s heated skin against his, Taehyung’s mouth on his neck, his hands tugging at his hair. The sounds the younger had made, the way his thighs had quivered where they were pressed against his. Yoongi remembers, very, very well, the feeling of Taehyung’s slick length, throbbing and sliding against his.
Yoongi wants. He really wants. Yoongi doesn’t think he’s ever wanted so badly in his life. Maybe this attitude towards sex that he’s had, maybe it’s okay to change, a little bit. Taehyung hasn’t asked, he’s barely even touched Yoongi, and the other day… Yoongi had seen the look in his eye, the determined set of his jaw when he’d pulled Yoongi’s fist from his cock. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait till we can both cum.”
Yoongi doesn't remember what he’s been waiting for.
It’s three PM on a Monday afternoon, and Yoongi has just settled down at the table with Photoshop, when his phone rings. It’s a very stressed, very close-to-tears Taehyung, who is all but wailing on the other line, his syllables garbled and pitched.
“I’m sorry, hyung, I know you have midterms too, but all of the people in Jimin’s group for his project live off campus so he brought them to the dorm to work. Both libraries are full of people and the cafes, too. I need to get this fucking pesentation done... I think I’m having a mental breakdown and I’m hoping this can count as our third date. A study date. Cute, right?”
“Calm down, Tae. Just come to the apartment, I’m the only one here,” Yoongi laughs, despite himself, standing. “I’ll order pizza. It’s a date.”
“You’re my hero, hyung,” Taehyung says before hanging up. Yoongi smiles, he smiles all through the pizza ordering process, and he’s still smiling when he sits back down, the front door unlocked. Yoongi can’t help it, really, because Taehyung, even mental breakdown Taehyung, is cute as fuck and he kind of loves it.
Taehyung arrives, accompanied by a whirlwind of groans and curses. He barely eats half a slice of pizza, before he becomes completely engrossed in his laptop, sitting at the table across from Yoongi. Yoongi doesn’t bother him, though, he just puts the pizza in the fridge for later and sits back down, focusing on his own computer. They sit in silence for a couple hours, comfortable save for the stress rolling from Taehyung, and for the tug of worry Yoongi feels each time the younger winces and rubs at his neck. He manages to get most of his final edits done, only occasionally getting distracted and staring at Taehyung. Even though he’s scowling and mumbling under his breath, his hands clicking the keyboard with ferocity, he’s still gorgeous.
“I hate college,” Taehyung groans, finally taking a breather. He stretches, leaning back in his chair, and let’s loose a monster of a yawn. “I also hate PowerPoint.”
“Why PowerPoint?” Yoongi asks, standing to get them both a water from the fridge.
“Remember the assignment I took notes for? At the aquarium?” Yoongi nods. “Well, I was supposed to have a research paper due tomorrow. I had it done, I swear, all I had to do was edit it. Except now it’s fucking useless because my teacher decided she didn’t want to read papers... now she wants us to do presentations.”
“Gross,” Yoongi comments. His poor Tae.
“I have the information and sources, all that is fine. What I don’t have is any goddam pictures or any idea how to make this presentation worthy of an A.” Taehyung sighs, rolling his head back.
Before he can even think, Yoongi moves to stand behind Taehyung, slipping his thumbs under the neckline of the younger’s t-shirt. He pushes them against the warm, tense skin at the base of Taehyung’s neck, and okay, Yoongi is not prepared for the moan that this earns him, and he’s not opposed to hearing it again. But Yoongi can feel the hard knots and tight muscles, so he tells his dick to hush as he tries to work the knots out, smooth the stress from Taehyung’s neck.
It works, for the most part. In twenty minutes, Yoongi can already tell a difference, as Taehyung grunts and drools below him. Yoongi moves from digging his thumbs into Taehyung’s neck, to smoothing his palms over his shoulders, repeating the motion until Taehyung is sitting up and clearing his throat.
“This feels really, really nice,” he says, “but I’m wondering if you can do this to my butt later? Because I’ve been having to stand a lot for labs and my ass hurts.”
“You want me to massage your ass?” Yoongi laughs, tangling his fingers in Taehyung’s soft, fluffy hair.
“Yes…?” Taehyung giggles, the sound indicating that most of his stress has evaporated. The tightness in Yoongi’s chest dissipates as well. He leans down, tugging Taehyung's head to the side with just a hint of roughness, letting his lips snag on the curve of Taehyung’s ear.
“Is that all you want me to do to it?” he breathes, low and deep, and the shudder the builds in the younger’s body has his own responding likewise. But they both still have a lot of work to do, so he settles for kissing Taehyung’s cheek. “Oh, and by the way, you know who has photos?”
“Who?” Taehyung asks dazily, blinking up at Yoongi with dark eyes. Yoongi waits, pressing his lips together and narrowing his eyes, waiting until Taehyung catches on. “Oh,” Taehyung gasps, smiling as he understands, “oh, you! You took pictures!”
“Yes I did,” Yoongi nods, shrugging. “It’s what I do. I am the photographer. I do the picture-taking.”
“Are you… offering to let me use your photos for my presentation?”
Taehyung turns in the chair, then he tugs Yoongi down, into his lap, and wrapping his arm around Taehyung’s shoulder is all he can do to keep himself from falling on his ass. He settles his ass on Taehyung’s thighs, sitting sideways, holding in his laughter as Taehyung nuzzles into his cheek.
“You’re the best and you can do whatever you want to my ass, hyung,” Taehyung grins.
“I’m holding you to that,” Yoongi grins back, letting Taehyung kiss him, slow and deep. There’s a shallow burn behind the kiss, a need below the surface, but it’s held at bay by the fact that he and Taehyung haven’t seen each other in over a week. Yoongi can taste the affection on Taehyung’s lips, taste the “I missed you” without the younger verbalizing the words. Yoongi kisses back, relating his own feeling with every slide of his lips, every probe of his tongue. They kiss and kiss, tongues tangling and bodies still, until they’ve almost made up for the time they haven’t been kissing.
Eventually Taehyung pulls away, thanking Yoongi again, and the elder retrieves his hard drive from his bag. He makes a copy of the folder titled ‘Aquarium with Tae’ (and blushes while doing so), and moves it to Taehyung’s desktop. Then they sit, Yoongi still perched on Taehyung’s lap, and go through the photos one by one, picking out the most relevant to Taehyung’s assignment.
“I think I know which photo you should put on the title slide,” Yoongi says, his finger moving on the mousepad. “It’s my favorite.” He searches through the photos till he finds ‘Taehyung & Sea Monster’.
“Oh, wow,” Taehyung breathes, leaning forward to take in the picture.
It’s the picture of Taehyung and the whale shark, the two of them all but lost in each other. Yoongi had edited it just a bit, to make the colors more vibrant and add more depth, but it was still just as vivid as his memories of the day were. It’s a great photo too, even Yoongi can admit that, and he’s his own harshest critic. He was able to capture most of the scene, and half the shark is in the shot, Taehyung dwarfed, but no less magnificent.
“This is an amazing picture, Yoongi,” Taehyung says, suddenly serious, his arm tightening where it’s wrapped around Yoongi’s waist, “all of them are, but this one… I love it.”
“I do, too,” Yoongi murmurs, and for a moment, it’s almost like they aren’t talking about the photo anymore.
After Taehyung’s presentation, and more importantly his sanity, is saved, they finish off the pizza and Taehyung packs up.
“We should celebrate,” Yoongi begins, seeing Taehyung off at the door, “when midterms are over. Jin has already made plans with Namjoon, plans that didn’t include me, which I’m really glad for because it probably involves handcuffs and whipped cream…” Yoongi shrugs, smiling at Taehyung’s frown at the handcuffs comment. “But, you can come over, I can make dinner, and we can watch the next movie on the list? What was it, Nausicaa?”
“Yes,” Taehyung draws the word out, his face lighting up in the most beautiful way, “I’m so down. Friday, then?”
“Friday. I’ll see you in the morning for your smoothie.”
Yoongi kisses Taehyung before he slips out of the door, and for a moment, the electric anticipation sparks and shimmers between. Then Taehyung is smiling and leaving, his cheeks dusted pink, and Yoongi thinks that Friday can’t come fast enough.
Taehyung groans, letting his head thud against the bathroom door.
“Jimin, please, I just need my toothbrush,” he says, raising his voice over the sound of the music thumping on the other side of the door. “I’ve busted down bathroom doors before, don’t think I won’t do it again.”
Taehyung is late. Taehyung was supposed to leave fifteen minutes ago for his homemade dinner date with Yoongi, but Taehyung lives with Jimin. Which means Taehyung is late.
The bathroom door opens suddenly, just enough so that Jimin’s hand pops through, Taehyung’s toothbrush in his petite grip. Sound floods the small hall, and Taehyung has to catch himself on the wall before he falls, most of his weight having been on his forehead against the door.
“Thank you, shit,” Taehyung says, snatching his toothbrush from Jimin. As soon as rhe does, the door is being slammed in his face. “Rude! What are you doing in there, taking photos for Hobi-hyung to get off to?” The music volume increases until Taehyung is sure that the RA will come knocking at any moment, so he hurriedly stashes his toothbrush in his backpack and rushes out of the dorm.
Taehyung feels free, so damn free, with midterms being done and over. He still has a week or so, before grades are posted, but he’s determined not to stress over those. He did good, he knows he did good, and he has a date with Yoongi, so that’s what he focuses on.
The walk to Yoongi’s apartment is always pleasant. It takes him away from the main campus and past the little pine grove, then once on the street, past little shops and bakeries. Yoongi’s complex is small, mostly college kids and oddly enough, old people, all of whose faces Taehyung has learned by now. The parking lot in front of the buildings even has a huge, beautiful oak tree in the corner, not unlike the one on campus. It’s usually a nice, quick and quiet walk, but not today.
Today, Taehyung doesn’t even get off campus before it starts to rain. It’s a gentle and chilly rain, little pinpricks ghosting over Taehyung’s cheekbones, extremely rare for October. Just one of nature’s little blips. Taehyung pulls up his hoodie and jogs the rest of the way, but by the time he’s lunging his way up the stairs at Yoongi’s apartment, he’s soaking wet.
“I’m late,” Taehyung gasps, walking past Yoongi, inside the warmth of the apartment.
“And wet,” Yoongi comments wryly.
“It’s raining,” Taehyung explains, leaving his shoes and backpack by the door, “and Jimin was taking nudes for Hoseok so it took me a damn year to get my toothbrush out of the bathroom.”
“Well, that’s nice,” Yoongi laughs, dodging Taehyung’s hug. Taehyung pouts, making grabby hands, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re soaking wet and cold. Go dry off and change, before you get sick. Then, you can hug me.”
“All I brought was a t-shirt and sweats, though,” Taehyung groans. “They’re not appropriate for a date.” Yoongi pulls a face, a face that is questioning all of Taehyung’s logic, and point down at his own clothes. The elder is in plain cotton pajama bottoms and a t-shirt. He looks so snuggly.
“Yes, okay, I know, but,” Taehyung smiles, “you look good in sleepy-clothes.” Yoongi snorts, turning away to walk back to the kitchen. “How’s your head?” Yoongi had called, a few days ago, unable to make it to their daily lunch. Taehyung feels horrible that he wasn’t able to be there for the elder.
“I’m fine, don’t worry. And you obviously haven’t spent much time looking at your own ass in sweats, then,” the elder calls, and that get’s Taehyung’s attention. He follows Yoongi to the kitchen and presses him against the counter, careful not to drip on him.
“You like the way my ass looks in sweats, hyung?” he asks with feigned innocence, smirking down at Yoongi. Yoongi tries to scowl, but he’s too busy blushing, and Taehyung is using all his self-control to keep from pressing his body against the elder’s.
“I like the way your ass looks in anything if we’re being honest,” Yoongi finally gives, “but I like it better when it’s dry and warm, so go change.”
“Okay, okay,” Taehyung sighs, retrieving his bag from the door. When he passes by the kitchen, he stops for just a moment to raise an eyebrow at the elder, “I thought you’d prefer it hot and slick, but dry and warm it is.”
Yoongi’s ‘oh my God, Tae’ and rolling laughter follow him all the way to the bathroom.
Yoongi made some spicy beef dish that doesn’t actually have a name, but was delicious anyway, and they finish off their dessert of (can you believe it) strawberry-banana smoothies as the movie ends.
“Okay,” Yoongi says, flailing one arm at the screen, “that one was weird.” Taehyung laughs, sliding his palm up Yoongi’s shin where the elder has this legs thrown over his lap.
“Yeah,” Taehyung admits, “Nausicaa is weird.”
“I kind of want a fox-squirrel now, though,” Yoongi sighs dramatically, putting his half-finished smoothie on the table. “I used too much of the banana. Ugh, how do you drink so many of these?”
“I’ve learned to love them,” Taehyung shrugs as he finishes his off.
“Learned to? You didn’t like them before?”
“Not really. But they’re pink, so,” Taehyung trails off, more concerned with the feel of Yoongi’s skin beneath his hand.
“.... so?” Yoongi prompts, raising his knee to get Taehyung’s attention. “Don’t tell me you came in everyday for a week and ordered something you didn’t even like because it’s pink.”
“I did,” Taehyung giggles, “because your hair is pink. I walked in and saw you, and… I couldn’t think past how attractive you were. So I ordered the first thing that came mind, which happened to be pink.”
Taehyung might have expected Yoongi to smack him and roll his eyes. Taehyung might have expected Yoongi to laugh and tease him for being so cheesy. But Yoongi is doing none of these things.
Yoongi is looking at Taehyung in surprise, a soft, pretty pink, the same color as his hair, spreading over his cheeks in a way that should be cute, but is toeing the line of sexy. Taehyung waits, biting his lip to keep himself from grinning so hard. Then Yoongi’s own lips part, and he’s reaching over, dragging Taehyung on top of him, between his thighs.
“I’m going to kill you,” Yoongi mutters, kissing Taehyung hard, “for making me make all those goddamn smoothies with that goddamn piece of shit blender,” another searing kiss that has Taehyung’s toes curling, “you adorable goddamn asshole.” Taehyung can’t even catch his breath long enough to laugh.
They don’t use words, after that. They use lips and tongue, roaming hands, rolling hips and arching backs. Yoongi’s hands are in his hair, tugging and stroking at intervals, his mouth taking full control of the kiss. Yoongi has never kissed Taehyung like this, not with this urgency, this sense of unhindered deliberacy. Taehyung can taste Yoongi’s need, he can feel it every time the elder’s hips roll up, the thin fabric of their pajamas leaving nothing to the imagination. Yoongi is hard, Taehyung is hard, and holy shit, Yoongi’s hands are on Taehyung’s ass, squeezing, crashing their hips together with force. Taehyung is eighty-seven percent sure Yoongi is wearing nothing under those pants.
“Let’s go to bed, Tae,” Yoongi says, and the gentleness of his words completely contradict the harshness in his hands.
“Are we, like, going to bed,” Taehyung gasps, Yoongi’s tongue curling under his ear, “or, are-are we going to bed?”
“That one,” Yoongi growls.
“Holy shit,” are the only words Taehyung can say.
They make it as far as the hall, Yoongi’s smaller, but surprisingly stronger, body pinning Taehyung to the wall. Yoongi’s mouth is everywhere, everywhere he can reach, and his hands are everywhere his mouth can’t reach. Taehyung doesn't think he’d even be standing if Yoongi wasn’t holding up with his hands and mouth, because his knees are week and all the blood in his body is currently pumping straight to his cock. Yoongi is licking a stripe up, from his collarbones to his jaw, nipping over the skin, sending wave after wave of heated chills across his skin.
After so many weeks of being careful, of holding back, it’s so relieving to finally be able to slip his hands under Yoongi’s shirt, glide his palms over the elder’s skin. This sends Yoongi’s hips grinding against his own in a way that has him seeing bursts of colors, has him letting his head fall against the wall with a sharp crack.
“Be careful,” Yoongi chastises with a low laugh, his voice deep and edged. Taehyung nods, taking advantage of the fact that Yoongi’s mouth is no longer occupied to kiss him, licking into the elder’s mouth.
Yoongi shifts to the side, sliding his palm over Taehyung’s erection, and the whine he let’s out doesn’t even sound human. Taehyung keens, needy and desperate, then he snaps. He pushes Yoongi back, gripping soft, silky hair, and kisses Yoongi with force. Now it’s Yoongi’s turn to groan, whimpering against Taehyung’s mouth as the younger walks them backwards into Yoongi’s bedroom. Taehyung is grateful the door is already open, because he’s too busy sucking on Yoongi’s bottom lip to bother with something as trivial as a fucking doorknob.
Taehyung slams the door behind him, out of habit, even though he and Yoongi are the only ones in the apartment tonight. It gives them time to breathe and regroup, though, standing three feet away from each other, panting. Yoongi’s hair's a mess, sticking up all over the place like windblown cotton candy, his lips parted and a little red where Taehyung was sucking on them. He’s looking at Taehyung with eyes dark with lust and bright with affection, and Taehyung has to take a deep breath before he moves forward.
“How-how do you wanna do this?” he asks, his words shattering like glass halfway through, desire to thick in his voice.
“I was really hoping you would ride me,” Yoongi smiles, biting his lip, and fuck, how can someone be so sinfully adorable? Taehyung’s skin burns, the ghost of Yoongi’s hand on his cock too much.
“Yeah- God, please yes,” Taehyung says, then he pounces.
Yoongi’s back hits the mattress in record time, Taehyung crawling on top of him, returning the attention Yoongi gave to his neck with his own tongue. Yoongi’s hands grip his thighs, his dull nails digging into the straining skin.
“Tae, clothes. Off, now, all of them,” Yoongi gasps. Taehyung chuckles. He sits up, pulling his own shirt off, blushing under Yoongi’s hungry gaze. He helps Yoongi out of his, then he sets forth to mark up all of the beautiful, gloriously pink-tinged skin begging for attention. He uses teeth this time, after gathering that Yoongi likes a bit of edge to his pleasure, sucking and nibbling over Yoongi’s chest. He sucks a dark mark on the curve of Yoongi’s ribs, sucks and licks until Yoongi is arching and panting, the skin over sensitive and almost ticklish.
Yoongi is begging, at this point, for his and Taehyung’s pants to be thrown to the side, but Taehyung gathers all of his remaining patience and continues his descent at a slow, maddening pace. Yoongi curses, his hands in Taehyung’s hair, as Taehyung litters gentle kisses back and forth just above his waistband, the skin hot and twitching beneath his mouth. Taehyung knows how hard Yoongi is, can see it clearly, but he takes his time sucking matching marks on both of Yoongi’s hipbones, holding Yoongi still with two hands on his thighs.
“Fucking-Taehyung, I swear if you do not get these fucking pants off of me,” Yoongi growls, writhing beneath Taehyung’s mouth.
“Okay, okay,” Taehyung laughs, finally tugging Yoongi’s pants down by the waistband, pushing them down his thighs as far as they’ll go. Yoongi shivers at the cold air as he kicks them off, then he drags Taehyung up by his hair, kissing him with a little too much force, teeth clacking and noses bumping.
It’s still perfect.
“Hyung,” Taehyung pouts, tilting his head so Yoongi can suck on his jaw, “I was going to blow you.” Yoongi growls again, this time into Taehyung’s ear, his hips grinding up.
“I wouldn’t have lasted five seconds,” he says, “now, ass in the air. Let me get you ready to ride my cock.”
Taehyung is pretty sure he almost blacks out. Yoongi’s deep as sin voice, dripping with want and need, spouting obscene words with demand may be his new favorite thing. Taehyung obeys though, sliding off Yoongi’s body to his hands and knees, ass in the air and forehead resting on his arms.
“I’ve never-” he starts, turning to look at the elder, and Yoongi pauses, his brows creasing.
“Bottomed?” Taehyung nods, breathless. “Do you… want me to-”
“No, fuck no, I want to ride you. I just thought you should know,” Taehyung smirks, biting his lip as Yoongi grabs the lube and a condom, his cock throbbing in anticipation.
“I’ll go slow,” Yoongi assures him, sliding Taehyung’s pants down, allowing him to shimmy them to the floor.
“I do it to myself, sometimes… I mean, don’t go too slow or I’ll definitely die,” Taehyung giggles, letting his head drop back down.
“Shit, Tae,” Yoongi breathes, his hands sliding over the arch of Taehyung’s back, coming to a stop on his ass. Yoongi squeezes, kneading and spreading him, and Taehyung’s blood pounds in his ears.
Yoongi is careful, but not slow, both of which have Taehyung is incredibly grateful. He’s fingered himself before, so the sensation isn’t alien... but because it’s Yoongi, Yoongi’s hands, Yoongi’s fingers rubbing over him, Taehyung shivers, his dick leaking onto the sheets. The first finger goes in easily, and Yoongi slides in all the way to the knuckle, twisting and stroking, while they both curse and huff.
Then Yoongi is pressing in with two, and it’s tighter, and Taehyung feels a dull throb of what should be a burn, but he can’t focus on that, not when the tips of Yoongi’s fingers graze over his prostate. His hips lurch forward as he chokes out a gasp, the heat in his belly throbbing, sending a bolt of pleasure traveling down his pulsing cock.
“You’re so beautiful, Taehyung,” Yoongi murmurs, curling his fingers, sparking pleasure in every part of Taehyung’s body, in every corner of his brain.
Taehyung sobs, the pleasure too much, the wave building too fast-
“Don’t cum, Tae,” Yoongi says softly, a warning edge to his voice. “If you cum, you won’t get to ride me. Just a little more,” he says, pulling his fingers out, pushing back in with three. Taehyung chokes, breathing hard and heavy, focusing on keeping his hole relaxed, letting Yoongi’s magnificently long fingers stretch him. Yoongi’s lips ghost over the curve of his ass, over the bumps of his spine, and there’s no pain this time, only need. Taehyung needs Yoongi inside of him, needs Yoongi beneath him, panting and writhing.
Finally, fucking finally, Yoongi decides Taehyung is ready. He makes sure Taehyung’s entrance is slick and dripping, before he lays back against the pillow and rolls the condom on.
“C’mere, Tae,” he says, and Taehyung whimpers, already so close that he could cum just from the look on Yoongi’s face. Everything is slick, both of them damp with sweat, the air between them humid and thick. Taehyung rises on his knees, swinging one trembling leg over Yoongi’s hips. He leans forward, tangling his lips with Yoongi’s, as the elder guides his cock to Taehyung’s fluttering hole. Then Taehyung rises up, taking Yoongi in, slow and-
“Fuck,” Yoongi cries out, as Taehyung drops down, hard and harsh. Taehyung growls, filled to the brim with Yoongi’s thick, throbbing length, and he briefly wonders why he’s waited so long for this. Then he’s glad, because he can’t imagine anyone but Yoongi fucking him like this.
Taehyung gives an experiential roll of his hips, his mouth open as he pants, and ohshit, that’s- fuck that’s good. That’s so good. Yoongi’s hands are rough on his hips, his eyes gazing at Taehyung like he’s trying to steal his soul, and maybe he has. Taehyung doesn’t care.
He rolls his hips hard, fast, alternating between that, and bouncing, enjoying his view of Yoongi’s clenched jaw and flushed chest, the elder cursing and praising him. Taehyung doesn’t dare touch his own cock. He knows this will be over entirely too quickly if he does, and he’s determined to fuck Yoongi for all he’s worth.
So Taehyung braces his palms on Yoongi’s chest, rolls his hips and bounces, finding a rhythm that has them both gasping and groaning. Yoongi’s voice, so deep before, grows higher and higher, till he’s silent, his breath caught in his chest, his teeth clenched. Taehyung’s legs start to tremble, the effort of keeping himself seated on the elder’s cock becoming too much, so he falls forward, catching himself on Yoongi’s mouth. It’s messy and it’s wet, but it’s so fucking hot that Taehyung get’s distracted, his hips stuttering to a stop as Yoongi’s tongue glides over his.
Yoongi takes advantage of the angle, gripping Taehyung’s asscheek in one hand, his neck in the other. The elder widens his legs, bracing his feet on the mattress, then he thrusts up, slamming into Taehyung’s prostate. Taehyung almost screams, but his chest tightens with each drag of Yoongi’s cock, and all he can do is whimper.
“Touch yourself, Tae,” Yoongi gasps out, “I wanna feel you cum.”
Taehyung’s soul leaves his body, but he obeys, sliding one hand between his and Yoongi’s bodies to grip himself. The pleasure is scorching, lighting up Taehyung’s veins like a spark to flame, and he clenches around Yoongi, earning an especially hard thrust.
Taehyung flicks his wrist, swiping his thumb over the precum dripping from his cock, digging his thumb into the slit. Every pass of his hand has him closer, has him tightening on Yoongi’s cock, as the elder urging him on with beautifully filthy words. Everything is hot, too hot, his palm, his skin, Yoongi’s length as it throbs with every thrust-
“I’m-fuck, Tae, baby, I’m close,” Yoongi gasps, his hips stuttering. “Let me feel you cum, Tae, cum on his cock-fuck, that’s it-that’s it-”
Taehyung cums so hard his ears buzz and he momentarily loses his hearing, his body convulsing against Yoongi’s. He pumps his cock, splattering spurt after spurt of heat on the elder’s belly, up to his chest, and the sight as Yoongi sobbing, letting go of Taehyung’s neck to grip his ass with both hands. Taehyung whimpers, each sharp thrust from Yoongi’s hips sending blinding-white, almost painful pleasure scalding under his skin.
Then Yoongi is cuming, Taheyung’s name bubbling from his lips with a string of curses, his hips snapping once, twice, then stilling as he fills the condom, his cock twitching against Taehyung’s walls.
“Holy. Fucking. Shit.” Taehyung pants, his forehead on Yoongi’s as the thrumming in his veins eventually starts to slow.
“I. Agree. One-hundred. Percent.” Yoongi rasps back, a weak smile on his face. He eases out, both of them wincing a bit, and Taehyung rolls, flopping over until he’s settled on his side facing the elder. He watches through pleasure hazed eyes as his body hums, watches as Yoongi stands gingerly and disappears from the room. He comes back, clean himself, with a warm, wet cloth and gently cleans Taehyung up, ticklishly thorough. Taehyung giggles, the sound strained and breathless to his own ears, when Yoongi leans over to kiss his nose, then his lips.
“I think my legs are going to explode,” he says as Yoongi hands him his sweatpants, already pulling on his own. The elder is glowing, the pink that dusted his skin still simmering beneath the surface, making the planes of his thin, lean body look somehow warm. Taehyung is tired, more than tired, worn out by midterms and good food and mind blowing sex, but all he wants is Yoongi’s skin on his. He waits patiently, waiting for Yoongi to turn off the light and slip back into the bed, before he latches on.
“I really hope they don’t,” Yoongi sighs, “that would kind of suck.” Taehyung snorts, gathering Yoongi’s warm body to his own, his cheek on the elder’s shoulder, their legs tangling together under the blankets.
“Yeah, it would,” Taehyung agrees. He feels heavy but weightless, floating a little as his body relaxes into Yoongi’s. Sleep is imminent. Nice, warm, sated sleep.
Taehyung hums as Yoongi’s hand smooths over his back, from the base of his spine to his shoulders, the elder’s touch smooth and tender. Taehyung smiles, mumbles a quiet ‘goodnight’, then he’s out, already drooling a bit on Yoongi’s shoulder.
“I wanna tell you something.”
Yoongi jumps a little, spinning around to face the counter. Work was slow this morning, and he’d been busy cleaning the damn espresso machine after it had a fit (seriously, did nothing in this place work right?), and Taehyung had been sitting in the corner on his computer for an hour. Now the boy stands, bracing his elbows on the counter, a small, somewhat serious smile on his face.
“Then tell me something,” Yoongi says, patting his chest as his heart calms down. For all his rambunctious hyper-cuteness, Taehyung sure could move quick and silent.
“I’ve decided I don’t wanna do this dating this anymore,” he shrugs, standing up straight.
“Oh-” Yoongi doesn’t even have time to feel a pang in his chest.
“I mean, I like it. But I think I want more? If you do. I mean, it’s been a couple months now, and I really, really like you, Yoongi,” Taehyung says, nodding more to himself than the elder. “I just feel like we’ve thoroughly explored this whole dating ritual, or whatever.”
“I think it’s time to talk about being serious, you know? Official, or whatever? It sounds silly when I say it outloud, because I’ve been serious about you for a long time already, and I’ve been yours since the first moment I saw you. But… and I don’t know what’s going to happen in a year, or what’s going to happen tomorrow, but I know I wanna find out, and I want it to be with you.”
Yoongi doesn’t try to speak for a moment, not sure if Taehyung is done. Warmth is bubbling in his chest, making his hands a little shaky, his face a little tight with the effort of trying not to smile.
“So, my point is, I want you to go to that Halloween party tonight as my boyfriend, not my date.”
Ah, now he’s done.
“Okay,” Yoongi says, finally allowing himself to smile, “sounds great.” Taehyung perks up, smiling from ear to ear, big and bold.
“Yeah, Tae,” Yoongi nods, “boyfriends.”
“So… is there a line behind me again, or….?” Yoongi leans to the right a little, checking.
“So I can kiss you?” Taehyung leans forward, tilting his chin up.
“Yeah, you can kiss me,” Yoongi says, even though he’s already leaning over the counter, lifting himself a little on his arms. Taehyung’s mouth is gentle and warm, affectionate. Yoongi allows himself to get lost in the kiss, the gentle tug of lips and tongue, for just a moment.
“I’ll meet you at eight?” Taehyung asks, pulling away and smiling at Yoongi, his eyes bright and hazy. Yoongi nods, then Taehyung is kissing him again, before he grabs his bag and leaves, blowing kisses in Yoongi’s direction. Yoongi almost snorts, but it’s too cute, so he just smiles with a sigh.
It’s close to ten, and Yoongi hasn’t moved from Taehyung’s lap since they arrived at the party. Early, of course, to secure them this amazing armchair shoved in the corner of this apartment. Yoongi sits, perched on Taehyung’s knees, his own knees on either side of the younger’s hips. Taehyung’s hands are on his thighs, rubbing mindless circles as they talk, sharing small, searing kisses occasionally. Yoongi dressed in all white and let Taehyung convince him to wear a flower-crown, convincing everyone he was a fairy. Yoongi didn’t really mind, not when Taehyung had told him what his own costume was, on the way to the party.
“I’m a boyfriend,” Taehyung had said, blushing a little under the warmth of his skin.
“How is that remotely related to Halloween?” Yoongi’d snorted.
“Well… feelings are scary, but when you look back on things that used to scare you, you find that they aren’t all that scary anymore.”
Yoongi is pretty sure he’d never heard something so romantic in his life. So they’d arrived at the party, hand in hand, ‘boyfriend’ and ‘fairy’, and promptly parked in the corner and ignored everyone else. Yoongi thinks it’s kind of perfect.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” Taehyung suddenly laughs, nodding behind Yoongi to something the elder can’t see. Yoongi twists at the waist, looking over his shoulder to peer through the dim, smoky room, and laughs.
Jungkook, who’d pouted a little when Taehyung wouldn’t dance with him, had found himself two partners instead. The dark-haired boy is pressed between Jimin and Hoseok, the elder of the two biting his lip as his hands trail over Jungkook’s hips, flush to his back. Jimin, on the other hand, is standing in front, and has his hands fisted in Jungkook’s hair. Jimin looks five seconds away from kissing Jungkook, too, but Yoongi looks away, shaking his head.
“I can’t handle the three of them,” he comments over the thumping of the bass. Taehyung nods, agreeing.
Yoongi and Taehyung stay longer than one would expect, even after Jimin, Hoseok, and Jungkook (sober, he only had one beer) disappear, even after Jin and Namjoon stop by to chat, before they also head out, hand in hand. They stay, talking and laughing, as the night wears on, lost in each other. Yoongi doesn’t like parties, not really, but they’re fun when he and Taehyung are the only two people in a room full of people.
“Hey, boyfriend,” Yoongi says, pressing his forehead to Taehyung’s.
“Let’s go home.”
Taehyung smiles, slow and cat-like, his skin glowing in the dark lights strung around the room. Yoongi feels his heart swell, feels the heat start to curl in his gut, and it’s all he can do to get Taehyung home and to himself. Forever.