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It would be bad manners to fuck Seokjin.
Bad manners because depending on the day, who’s asking or what time it is, he is—kind of, sort of—with Taehyung. In the romantic sense, that is. The sexual sense. In the sense that they fight, they break up, then they’re back together again for about as long as the high from the make-up sex lasts. They’ve been like this for as long as they’ve been an item. Which, in Jeongguk’s opinion, has been for far too long. It’s an exhausting cycle. He’s in the cuck chair for a relationship he never wanted any part in and the only type of head he’s receiving is a migraine.
There’s the Jimin thing, too. The little secret that nobody ever talks about but knows is very much real. That sometimes when Seokjin and Taehyung are considered not together, they’ll find themselves tangled up in each other. Jimin doesn’t talk about it. Refuses to, for Taehyung’s sake. And Seokjin pretends it doesn’t happen. Seokjin and his two younger boyfriends, the type of situation only he could find himself in. Like it’s no hassle at all. As if he struggles for attention at any given moment. The truth is that Seokjin is beautiful and he knows it. Basks in it, really. And no matter how hard Jeongguk tries not to, he falls just as easily into it as Taehyung and Jimin.
He does try. Really. Jeongguk has been very diligent in keeping both his eyes and his hands to himself. It’s just that sometimes, when they’re in the middle of a match of pickleball at Taehyung’s gym, Jeongguk’s eyes will fall on the bulb of muscle in Seokjin’s calves as he runs up and down on the court. How they tighten and clench, veins like stems growing out from under his skin. He’s incredibly athletic, Seokjin. Gives Jeongguk and Namjoon a run for their money on the rare occasion he joins them in the weight room, covered head to toe in a grey sweatsuit that doesn’t show off the best parts of his body. His toned stomach, his boney knees, his tender thighs. Jeongguk often watches the muscles in Seokjin’s back ripple and wishes he wasn’t so prone to downplaying just how fit he is.
Sometimes Jeongguk can’t help but notice the way the sun will hit just right on the line around his pecs when he wears one of those v-neck sweaters he likes so much. How the silver necklace around his neck will dangle just below the jut of his collarbones. And, of course, Jeongguk sometimes gets lost tracing the map of Seokjin’s broad shoulders, how his torso narrows down into such a trim waist it’s a little bit insane. A little bit unfair.
So, no, Jeongguk doesn’t touch. But sometimes he wants to.
Tonight is one of those nights where Taehyung and Seokjin are seemingly not together. No one knows why this time. If Jeongguk had to guess, it’d probably be something boring like who forgot to reply to a text or who has been ignoring calls. Petty, juvenile shit they only bother with because it’s boring to stay stable for too long. Whatever the reason is, tonight it has landed Seokjin smack dab in the center of a group of college boys who barely look old enough to drink at the bar they’re at.
They’re supposed to be celebrating Hoseok finally leaving the shit job he had in hospitality. Seven years spent managing the same over-priced yet under-compensated hotel nearly drove him to madness. There were nights Hoseok would spam their group-chat with long declarations where, after a certain shift from hell, he’d leave. He’d be free. But that moment never came. Not until recently. And now he’s gathered everyone up to pour liquor down his throat and pat his back in congratulations.
Jeongguk hasn’t seen Hoseok in what feels like hours. Thinks he’s wandered off somewhere with Namjoon, hands already halfway down each other’s pants in a dark, empty hall. It probably hasn’t been near that long, but he’s been distracted by the strawberry-tinged flush at the top of Seokjin’s cheeks as he chats up this group of young men. They fawn over him. Bunch of baby gays behaving like they’ve never seen someone who looks the way Seokjin does out in public before. There are hands at Seokjin’s backside and around his waist, sets of eyes that won’t leave his lips as he speaks. Jeongguk gets it. He does. The first thing he ever noticed about Seokjin was the thickness of his lips, how the bottom one was just a bit plumper, how much space they took up on the bottom part of his face.
He wonders where Taehyung is and why he hasn’t made a big deal about this yet. Even when they’re not quote, unquote together, Taehyung will still act like they are. Complain to anyone who’s willing to lend an open ear about how hard Seokjin makes this for them, how they wouldn’t have so many up’s and down’s if only Seokjin just stopped flirting. It’s not his fault, they tell Taehyung. Seokjin doesn’t even mean to flirt. That’s just the way he is. The way he’s wired. A fucking magnet to attention, someone any man wouldn’t hesitate to try to impress. Seokjin is just too polite to turn them away.
Jeongguk isn’t. Which is probably why, when they make eye contact from across the bar, Seokjin waves at him. Five crooked fingers that beckon him over the same way a siren song would. Jeongguk doesn’t want to be so weak to it, but he’s had a few drinks, and he really doesn’t like the way these college boys don’t keep their hands to themselves.
“Oh, Jeongguk-ah, meet my friends,” says Seokjin, wrapping fingers around the hemline of Jeongguk’s leather jacket and pulling him close enough to bump shoulders. “They were just telling me about their majors. Very interesting stuff.”
Jeongguk laughs, then. His skin pickles over with goosebumps where Seokjin’s hand brushes over his wrist. It’s a sly, intentional move. Placing Jeongguk’s hand on his thigh so that these guys know they have no real chance. It makes Jeongguk feel a little warm inside. He shifts on the soles of his feet, covers Seokjin’s side with the expanse of his shoulders. He can see the way several sets of eyes track his movements, sussing him out, evaluating the situation. They have no real chance here.
“You haven’t been to school in a long time, hyung. What would you even know about university life?”
Seokjin pouts, lips tinged a sweet red wine shade. He slaps Jeongguk on the chest and lets his hand linger at the meatiest part of his pecs before letting it slowly fall away. “Don’t be mean,” he says, voice all lilted and slurred. “They’re reminding me of my glory days.”
“Glory days,” Jeongguk repeats.
Seokjin nods. “My prime.”
“Ah, but hyung,” says Jeongguk, rubbing his palm against Seokjin’s nape just to watch how he leans into the touch. Drunk as he is, his skin feels like putty. Malleable and ready to mold into whatever shape Jeongguk decides. “You’re still in your prime.”
“You think so?” Seokjin asks, then blinks over at the group of boys. “You guys think I’m still in my prime, too?”
It would be funny, the way they don’t hesitate for even a second to nod, if it weren’t grating on Jeongguk’s nerves. He wants to laugh in their faces. He wants to ask them if they really think they have a chance. He doesn’t. Instead, Jeongguk does what he thinks he’s been called over for and dips down low to whisper in Seokjin’s ear, “They’re way too young for you, hyung.”
“You were too young for me once, too,” Seokjin mumbles back.
“If I thought I had a chance at nineteen, I wouldn’t have hesitated.”
Bold, maybe. Might not even be worth the effort. Jeongguk holds his breath while Seokjin registers what he’s just said, ears turning red, head tilting to the side. His eyes don’t leave the group of admirers. It has to feel good, Jeongguk imagines, to be so desired. Gratifying in a way that supports how easy it is for Seokjin to lean into Jeongguk’s body heat. Subtle and slow movements that hint to these boys: I’m bored now. You can go.
“They’re not that young.”
“They’re young,” Jeongguk reiterates, inching even closer so that his lips brush Seokjin’s earlobe. He hears the first telltale sound of someone leaving; leather shifting, unsuctioning from a bar floor covered with soda and liquor and beer. “Younger than I’d go for.”
Seokjin laughs, then, a brutal sort of sound. He shifts so that the collar of his cardigan opens just enough for Jeongguk to be able to see the shadow that splits his pecs open like the inside of a peach. Flushed a pretty pink up top from the alcohol, darker near the bottom where the bits of him that Jeongguk has never been allowed to touch hide.
“‘S not like you go for anyone,” says Seokjin, the phoniest little frown on his face as he watches his admirers leave one by one.
This was true, once. Jeongguk’s shyness precedes him. Days where he hadn’t yet grown into his nose or his teeth, goals in life and the weight of the world too grandiose for him to conceptualize. A child, once. A boy with the tendency to be selfish and greedy and weak to the allure of more, more, more. Some things have changed. Other things, however, have not.
Like the thrill that shoots down his spine. He’s happy to see them gone, happier to be able to position himself in front of Seokjin. There’s a glossy sheen over his eyes that make him look younger than thirty-three. No wonder those college boys had approached him; Seokjin has aged the best out of all of them.
“We met first,” Jeongguk says, and when Seokjin refuses to meet his eye, he slaps a hand down on his upper thigh. It gets the reaction he hoped for. A quiet, mousey meep, a ramrod straight back caught at attention. Seokjin and his perfect posture, perfect manners. Perfect eyes that blink up at Jeongguk as if he hasn’t just been given what he wanted. “D’you remember that? I met you first, then Yoongi, then Taehyung.”
Seokjin smiles, shy. It makes his cheeks bulge. “You were a pain in my ass.”
“My parents thought you’d be a good influence.”
“And now look at you.” Seokjin’s eyes zigzag over Jeongguk’s face; piercings in his brow and lip and ears, the tattoos on his knuckles, the stubble that grows around his chin no matter how often he shaves. “All grown up, don’t even need me anymore.”
Jeongguk’s grip tightens without his permission. He likes to see how Seokjin squirms, though, how the tips of his ears turn the color of cherries. “I always need you, hyung.”
It’s a double entendre and they both know it. Jeongguk, despite himself, doesn’t think there will ever be a time in his life where he doesn’t need Seokjin. Whether it’s a ride to school or a meal made after the day ran away from him or a person to stay up late playing video games with, Seokjin is a constant. A necessity. The only person in their friend group who ever bothered taking the time to learn the ins and outs of Jeongguk. If there’s another reason Jeongguk hasn’t dared to touch Seokjin the way he sometimes dreams about, it’s that he’s never felt allowed.
He feels allowed now with Seokjin spreading his legs open. Just a fraction, only a little bit, but enough for Jeongguk to slide three of his longest fingers down between Seokjin’s thighs. Warm in here, damp. The rough fabric of his denim jeans traps heat and scent, and Jeongguk wonders what his fingers would smell like if he brought them up to his nose and sniffed them.
Seokjin’s voice is a quiet rasp. “You’d do that to Taehyung?”
Jeongguk huffs. “You’d do that to Taehyung?”
“Taehyungie broke up with me.” Seokjin shakes his head, looks away. “Said it was real this time.”
That’s what he said last time. And the last and the last and the last. Sometimes, Jeongguk gets so angry with Taehyung, that he can’t just keep Seokjin by his side the way he should, that it makes him feel a little bit crazy. A little bit unbalanced. Too much like that hormonal, teenage boy who would jerk himself in the shower for long enough, with only doe-eyed Seokjin on his mind, that he’d chafe. It used to make him sick, stomach churning for days after, head all fuzzy and tired. Now, though, Jeongguk will lay in his bed at night with fantastical daydreams about the feel of Seokjin’s mouth wrapped around his cock and only feel bad about it for an hour or so after.
“He shouldn’t—” Jeongguk coughs, swallows the curse that bubbles up in the back of his throat. “He shouldn’t say things he doesn’t mean. I don’t.”
“You tell me something, then.”
“Hm?”
“Tell me something,” Seokjin whispers, squeezing his thighs so that Jeongguk can feel the tendon there grow taut. His heartbeat is in the tips of his fingers, now. Seokjin has to know that. “And make me believe it.”
It would be bad, horrible manners for Jeongguk to fuck Seokjin. Impolite and disrespectful and amoral. It might get him punched in the face by Taehyung or Jimin, maybe even the both of them at the same time. Seokjin very well may never speak to him again if they cross that line. But Jeongguk is staring down at the crimson tinge around Seokjin’s eyes, watching the way his cupid’s bow quivers from either nerves or intoxication, and nothing much really matters anymore beyond the realm of his greedy hands on Seokjin’s body.
All he wants is to touch.
All he’s ever wanted is to touch.
Jeongguk clears his throat. He bullies his knee between Seokjin’s legs, feels the bone of them against his own, and slots it right up where his hand still rests. Seokjin is warm all over, a furnace from up so close. He smells like the fried chicken they ate earlier and the expensive cologne he’s been wearing for years. So familiar it sends a pang of desire straight into Jeongguk’s gut.
“Sometimes—” His voice is a scrape, a mimic of the real thing. “Sometimes, all I have to do is think of the way you might sound, and it makes me so hard I think I could cry.”
“You’re lying.”
“I just told you I wouldn’t.”
Seokjin glares. His pupils shake, the flush on his cheeks a violent shade of red. The worst kind of sunburn. “Why now?” he asks.
“Why now?” Jeongguk repeats, disbelief marring his tone. He removes his hand and replaces it somewhere high on Seokjin’s hip. “You called me over here, didn’t you? Why’d you do that?”
“They were bothering me.”
“They were flirting with you.”
“They were not,” Seokjin snaps. Subtle anger that thrums under a whisper only audible because of how close he is to Jeongguk. “Just—bothering me. That’s it.”
He has to be joking. Not a single person in this bar is half as charming or witty as Seokjin is. It’s laced into his demeanor, coated in the way that he talks. All timid and careful like there’s something sweet in his mouth that he’s trying not to let fall out. At least, not until the moment he gets going. That perfect moment. The point in conversation where Seokjin can no longer handle the compliments, so he looks away, bats a hand in the air, plays bashful. He knows that he’s beautiful. He knows that he’s desired. What he doesn’t know—what Jeongguk and Taehyung and Jimin and those fucking college boys know—is that it works. Makes people crazy. Has Jeongguk hiking his knee up to where Seokjin’s denim jeans bunch up.
He’s been spoiled. That’s Seokjin’s issue. No one calls him out on the games he plays because no one, not even he, is aware that there is a game to begin with. Without a winner, there can’t be a loser, and maybe that’s exactly what keeps Taehyung coming back for more.
“So you wanted me to come over here and bother you instead?”
Seokjin’s gaze drops down to the knee between his thighs. “That’s what you’re good at.”
“‘M good at lots of things.”
“We know,” Seokjin laughs, rolling his eyes. “Golden boy.”
Jeongguk’s skin buzzes. This is the closest he’s ever been allowed to get to Seokjin. Their beer breaths mingle in the tiny, humid gap between them and time seems to slow down every minute that Seokjin doesn’t try to push Jeongguk away. He stays upright and faux-relaxed. The straight line of his shoulders shoots down his spine as if he’s been impaled by a steel rod. When Jeongguk curls the fingers he has wrapped around his waist, Seokjin doesn’t react. That won’t do. Jeongguk needs those pretty eyes to flutter, needs to hear the wet pop of his lips as they fall open.
He needs permission.
“You won’t take me seriously,” Jeongguk mumbles, knowing how petulant he sounds, hoping it will work. Ten years ago it would’ve worked. Seokjin has never been very good at denying him anything. “Called me all the way over here just to not take me seriously.” He pouts, tilts his head, blinks up at the way Seokjin’s philtrum stretches as his lips fold. “Why, hyung?”
“No one else was around.”
“Don’t lie.” Jeongguk sneaks his thumb under Seokjin’s cardigan, has to bite back a grin when he’s not shoved away. “‘S not fair. No lying, okay?”
Seokjin rolls his eyes but says, “Okay.”
“You wanted my attention.”
Because no one else would give it to you. And you know I always will.
“I wanted…” Seokjin trails off, eyes searching over Jeongguk’s shoulder as if the word he wants is somewhere behind him. “I wanted other attention.”
“So they were too young for you.”
“You already knew that.”
“Just wanna hear you say the words.”
Give me permission. Let me know this is okay.
“Did you drive here?” Seokjin asks, seemingly out of nowhere.
If it’s a diversion tactic, Jeongguk won’t fall for it. He uses the hand not on Seokjin’s waist to pluck the beer bottle free from his grip and interlaces their fingers. Anyone could be watching. At this point, Jeongguk kind of hopes they are. He shakes his head, says, “No. Why?”
“Who did?”
“Taehyung.”
Kind of, sort of. Taehyung drove his car—filled with Jeongguk and Jimin and Hoseok—under the promise from Jimin that he’d stay sober enough to drive them all back home.
Seokjin rolls his bottom lip up between his teeth and sucks on it like it’s a pacifier. Remnants of chapstick make his philtrum look greasy. Jeongguk wants to lap at it like a fucking dog.
He seems to have given up on meeting Jeongguk’s eye, but he keeps their fingers locked, swinging back and forth on one side. When he speaks, it’s quiet and with intention. “I have Yoongi’s keys.” He slouches, chair creaking, weight of him heavy on Jeongguk’s knee. “He drove us.”
Jeongguk sneaks the rest of his palm under Seokjin’s shirt just to see him flinch. “Yeah?” he says.
“And I—” A deep sigh, one that makes his cheeks puff. “I forgot something in there. Help me find it?”
Except his skin already feels so warm against the palm of Jeongguk’s hand. Smooth and easy to press into, encouraging enough for Jeongguk to almost trip over his own feet trying to get closer. He thinks he could fuck Seokjin right here in the middle of the bar without caring about who sees. Lifting their conjoined hands, Jeongguk drops a chaste kiss to the bone on Seokjin’s wrist, then another to the tops of his knuckles. He follows Seokjin’s line of sight—avoidant, still over his shoulder—until they’re staring at each other. Jeongguk thinks it’s very important that Seokjin is looking into his eyes when he says, “Okay.”
Seokjin grabs his forgotten beer and chugs the rest of it, then they’re stumbling out of the front door. Jeongguk has his hands on Seokjin’s waist. Fingers under his cardigan, thumbs dipped under the hemline of his jeans, front pressed so close to his back that it’s nearly impossible for them to escape without causing a scene. Jeongguk doesn’t care. He’s got his nose flattened on Seokjin’s nape where all he can smell are the milky-sweet heart notes of shampoo. It floods his senses. Makes his hard for him to focus. Jeongguk is so eager, just the right amount of tipsy, that he snorts and shakes his head when Seokjin tries to pry his fingers away once they’re out in the cool midnight air.
“Can you calm down?” Seokjin asks, swatting behind him. All he does is pat Jeongguk’s hip, which feels like encouragement, has Jeongguk guiding them forward faster. “I can feel your tail wagging.”
Jeongguk laughs, then. The huff of air has the hairs at the back of Seokjin’s head blowing up in slight disarray. “Am I a dog?” he asks.
“A puppy.”
“Puppies need something to chew on,” Jeongguk says before sucking Seokjin’s earlobe into his mouth. He drags his tongue around the warm, peach-fuzz covered skin, feels the gap where a piercing once was.
Seokjin jerks, shoulders rattling. He tries to unwind from Jeongguk’s hold but isn’t able to. They’re only a few meters away from the parking lot now. Jeongguk can feel his heartbeat in his temples.
“We’re only—ugh.” Seokjin trips over one of Jeongguk’s feet. Would’ve toppled to the ground if it weren’t for the tight hold around his waist. He spins around, glares up at Jeongguk, eyes glassy as a sweaty beer bottle under the moonlight. “We’re only grabbing something, d’you forget that?”
Jeongguk yanks him closer so that their hips are flush. He likes the way Seokjin’s lashes flutter. Silly hyung, thinking he can trick Jeongguk. They both know what they’ve come out here for. “Can I kiss you?” he asks.
Eyes ovaling, Seokjin sends desperate looks from the right to the left. He won’t relax, tension in his spine making it difficult for their chests to touch. It’s driving Jeongguk crazy. He needs every inch of them connected, attached, glued together. He needs to be inside of Seokjin’s skin. He needs to feel the thrum of Seokjin’s blood flowing under his fingertips. He needs…
“I need to kiss you right now.”
A muscle in Seokjin’s jaw feathers. He gives one last lingering glance to either side before meeting Jeongguk’s eye. “Wait,” he says.
Jeongguk whines.
Warmth against his jaw, the tacky pull of damp skin against skin as Seokjin gives him a pat on the cheek. “Just wait,” he whispers. “Can you do that for me?”
Jeongguk nods, bangs falling into his eyes. He thinks he would do anything Seokjin asks of him right here at this moment. And isn’t that how it’s always been?
“Good boy.”
“Hyung—”
“Let’s go.”
Knobby knuckles loop around Jeongguk’s wrist, yank him forward hard enough that he’s too off-balance to force their bodies back together. It’s okay, though, because like this Jeongguk can watch the way Seokjin waddles forward. It’s almost as if those broad shoulders keep him unbalanced, body too big than he knows what to do with. Thirty-three years on this earth and he still hasn’t quite figured out how to manage the entirety of himself. That’s what Seokjin is. He’s everything. Jeongguk knows it, has always known that little Seokjin-hyung-fact. It’s something he’d tried to keep to himself for as long as possible, hoping the others wouldn't figure it out. They did, because of course they eventually would, but Jeongguk will do good to remind Seokjin that he was the first as soon as he’s given the chance to.
His eyes get stuck on the thin material of Seokjin’s cardigan as they weave through cars in the parking lot and the occasional passersby. Wasn’t noticeable inside of the bar, but Jeongguk can see it now; the lack of anything underneath, the silhouette of Seokjin’s trim waist, the contrast of his milky skin against the dark maroon shade of the cardigan. That little 7 tattoo is only visible when Seokjin steps on his right foot, cardigan shifting to the side just enough so that the moon can shine through its knit waffling.
Jeongguk’s breath catches. He wants that tattoo in his mouth.
He remembers the shock he felt when his most proper, more dapper hyung agreed to get matching tattoos with everyone. Jeongguk was the first, then Jimin, then they all fell in line with a little bit of begging and persuading. Seokjin took the longest to convince. He’d shy away, blush at the apples of his cheeks, tell them: My body is a temple. His body is a temple, yes. But he’d agreed anyway.
They’re a close-knit friend group. Bound together by years of forced proximity and late-night study sessions, midnight walks down by the Han river when someone wasn’t able to fall asleep. The tattoos were an impulsive decision made after a night of drinking. Mouths wide with laughter, tongues stained pink from artificially flavored cocktails, a bet that led to a dare that led to seven matching tattoos on various parts of their bodies. To this day, no matter who is angry with who, it’s not seen as some silly drunken regret.
And as Jeongguk watches Seokjin fumble with the key fob to Yoongi’s four-door Subaru, he swears to himself that he’ll make tonight matter just as much as the ink on Seokjin’s skin.
The car door unlocks with a soft click. A rush drills down Jeongguk’s spine, spurred on by the sound, a dog with a treat swinging in front his face. He’s latched onto Seokjin's back in seconds. Arms around his waist, fingers slithering up the hemline of his cardigan, feeling too greedy to make it easy for Seokjin to actually open the car door.
“You’re not being good,” Seokjin huffs once he gets the door open.
Jeongguk spins him around, places a gentle hand to the top of his head and ushers him into the backseat. “I am,” he says, crawling in on top of Seokjin.
Seokjin raises a hand in the air, stopping Jeongguk before he can get comfortable between his thighs. “Close the door,” he says. Jeongguk does so with a blind eye and his lip piercing between his teeth. “Good. That's good, Jeongguk. Now c’mere.”
Jeongguk does. Again. Whatever he’s told, he’ll do; as long as Seokjin keeps looking at him with lidded eyes and a promise in the flush on his cheeks, he’ll do whatever the fuck is demanded of him. The urge to please buzzes in the tips of his fingers as if they’ve been burned. He needs Seokjin to soothe the ache.
“Will you let me kiss you now?” asks Jeongguk, slipping his hands back around the slim trim of Seokjin’s waist.
“‘S that what you want?”
“All I’ve ever wanted.”
The crown of Seokjin’s head rests against the window of Yoongi’s car. His knees open up, left one knocking against the back of the driver’s seat. He doesn’t nod, doesn’t beckon, keeps his lips sealed shut as he waits for Jeongguk to take the hint.
And maybe Jeongguk would think about calming down, taking his time, but there’s this sense of urgency nipping at him. A phantom touch, a warning: Hurry, make this happen, someone will catch you, they know, they know, they know.
The idea that Taehyung or Jimin, or any other person in their friend group, could notice that they’ve disappeared and come searching for them has Jeongguk cupping his hands around Seokjin’s face faster than he can even register. When he yanks Seokjin forward and smashes their lips together, it’s not nearly as romantic as he always imagined their first kiss would be. The problem is that Jeongguk wants. He craves. Seokjin’s lips taste like the toasted herbal notes of the beer he’d been drinking. They’re cold, slotted between Jeongguk’s lips, a nice contradiction to how warm the rest of him is.
Always so warm, his Seokjin hyung. How could he ever complain about shivering when every inch of him is a furnace. Jeongguk moans a tiny, embarrassing thing when Seokjin’s mouth opens just enough for his tongue to slip through the crack and brush along the piercing hooked around Jeongguk’s bottom lip.
“Have I ever tell you how much I like this thing?” Seokjin asks when he pulls away. Doesn’t get very far, not with the fingers Jeongguk has clung around the plush of his cheeks. “Very cool. Looks good, Jeonggukie.”
“I wanted your attention,” Jeongguk admits. Taehyung had his looks. Jimin had his flexibility. Jeongguk had his quiet rebellion, his desire to be seen as something tougher than the soft edges of his face. He needed something to set him apart from the others.
Seokjin hums. He tongues at the piercing and Jeongguk’s stomach flips. “You’ve always had it.”
Not always, Jeongguk thinks but refuses to say. His chin buzzes where Seokjin leaves a chaste kiss, then the corner of his mouth. Bug bites everywhere. He’ll be itchy for days.
“Hyung,” Jeongguk whines, chasing Seokjin’s lips as he bends backward and from side to side. Always so playful, teasing. Making Jeongguk work for it. “Can I—I need to—”
Before Jeongguk can finish his sentence, Seokjin has both hands on his shoulders, forcing him to the other side of the car. He hovers over him, back hunched so that the entirety of him can fit in the tiny space of Yoongi’s backseat. He’s on his knees. His gaze dances over Jeongguk from head to toe, whites of his eyes like drops of moonlight in the dark. He looks so much bigger at this angle. Jeongguk licks his lips on instinct, but doesn’t reach out to touch. Not until Seokjin tells him to.
They have to do this on his terms. Jeongguk understands this. Seokjin has Taehyung and Jimin and the rest of the guys to think about if he crosses that line and lets Jeongguk fuck him. The burden of being the hyung. If it were up to Jeongguk, he’d be inside of Seokjin already, swallowing every single sound that trickles out from his pretty mouth.
Reaching out a hand, Seokjin takes hold of one of Jeongguk’s calves. The silver bracelet around his wrist catches light and gleams starlight white. “You want this?” he asks, voice soft.
Jeongguk can’t say yes fast enough. He lets his legs fall open to show Seokjin just how much he’s already chubbed up. Cock straining against the tight denim of his jeans, he can’t help but feel a little bit pathetic. Would be more embarrassing if it weren’t for the way Seokjin’s nostrils flare, grip tightening around Jeongguk’s calf.
“Touch yourself, then.”
His stare glues Jeongguk stuck in place. Moving right now isn’t an option, not with the sound of Seokjin’s heavy breaths taking up too much space in the car. As close as he is, Jeongguk all of a sudden feels shy. His knees come together a little bit on instinct. He wants it to be impressive for Seokjin. He wants to make sounds that he’ll think about for days. He wants, more than anything else, to prove just how badly he needs this, needs Seokjin.
The unbuckling of his belt is a loud, sobering sound in the small space between them. Jeongguk focuses too much on the metal clinking, the rustling of his jeans and underwear pulling down to his knees. He lifts one leg slightly and stretches the other out so that his cock is on full display. It’s more than gratifying to see the way Seokjin’s eyes instantly snap down to look at it.
“All grown up,” he murmurs.
“I’m an adult now, hyung,” Jeongguk says, voice thin.
“You are,” Seokjin hums. “Show me how you touch yourself.”
Jeongguk can do that.
He starts with all five knuckles wrapped around the base of his cock, getting a feel of himself, lifting it up just enough so that Seokjin can see how his balls hang below. He hasn’t been shaving much recently. Pubic hair scratches at the fat of Jeongguk’s fist. His cock twitches at the first squeeze, a careful curling of fingers, then he’s stroking down once, up once, back down to thumb at the slit. Too dry. It’s too dry, not at all the way Jeongguk likes it. He blinks up at Seokjin, stunned dumb for a second by the reverence in his eyes.
Seokjin has the kind of eyebrows that make him look much colder than he really is. Thick and dark and only slightly arched. He looks furious now, forehead creased in concentration, breathing hard through his mouth. Beautiful as always.
“Help me out?” Jeongguk asks, cupping his hand under Seokjin’s chin.
Seokjin looks down, then up, then down again. He licks his lips, tongue a soft shade of pink, then he spits into the palm of Jeongguk’s hand.
It’s better now with the warm slide of saliva on his shaft. Jeongguk’s eyes squeeze shut hard enough that little pixels dance behind his lids. He focuses on working his hand up and down his cock at a slow pace, not wanting to come yet, imagining the way Seokjin might feel around him. How tight will he be? How warm? Will he let Jeongguk in with one quick, smooth glide?
Jeongguk hopes that he’ll be big enough for Seokjin. That he’ll make it good, make it memorable, make it so much more than what he’s used to.
If Taehyung could see them right now, he’d be fucking livid.
The thought spurs Jeongguk on. His mouth opens without his permission, a wheeze coming out as he picks up pace. Images of Seokjin start popping up in his mind. On his back, on his knees, bent over Jeongguk’s knees. Mouth all gooey, throat straining with every whimper, flushed the prettiest shade of red from head to toe. A piece of candy come to life, something sweet and horrible for Jeongguk’s teeth, the type of treat he’ll be tonguing out for days. He can feel his cock twitch and harden with every stroke. His sac is swelling up. His gut is shooting off little cherry sparks that make his back arch, sliding down the backseat.
“What’re you thinking about?”
His voice is a shot to the fucking stomach. Jeongguk’s eyes snap open. He can hardly hear himself when he whispers back, “You.”
Seokjin nods, hums. The hand still on Jeongguk’s calf slides further up, up, up until he’s cupping his knee, leaning in closer as if he wants a better look. Jeongguk parts his thighs to make a wider gap. His skin clings to the leather seat, tacky to the touch.
“Do you always think about me when you touch yourself?”
“Nuh-not always,” Jeongguk grunts.
“What else do you think about?”
“Tuh-hng, ah—” He can’t say the words out loud, but sometimes Jeongguk thinks of Taehyung fucking Seokjin. Of Jimin watching, telling Taehyung how Seokjin likes it. Sometimes all Jeongguk has to do is see a picture of Seokjin and he’s ready to go, years and years worth of daydreams already made up in his head so that he doesn’t have to think of much. He bites his lip, hard. Settles on, “Nothing.”
Seokjin frowns. “Nothing?” he asks, tone faux-disappointed. “Nothing at all?”
Jeongguk shakes his head. In his hand, his cock starts to leak, and when he takes a quick peek at it, he can see shiny pearls dripping out onto his hand. Still too dry. Not wet enough. Jeongguk wants to be able to hear the suction of his own fist around his cock, loud enough so that Seokjin knows how much this is tearing away at his insides. He raises his hand and spats out a fat clump of spit, moans out loud with his fingers back around himself.
“Can’t say.”
Seokjin laughs, then, a sweet thing. He asks, “If you come now will you still be able to fuck me?”
God, just hearing the words coming out of Seokjin’s mouth is enough for Jeongguk to let go of himself. His cock is erect, curving up to the side near the crease of his thigh where pre-cum smacks against his skin. “No,” he says, faster than he would’ve liked. It’s too late. Seokjin can hear the urgency in his voice, see how his cock pulses. “Need to fuck you now.”
“You can,” Seokjin tells him, scooting over to the other side of the backseat. “I want you to.”
Jeongguk thinks he nods, thinks he whimpers. He can’t be entirely sure, shoving his pants and underwear the rest of the way off, crawling over top of Seokjin. It’s easier to smell him like this. Seokjin always smells so good. Keeps himself moisturized with burnt orange and cedar body lotion. Cologne on his nape, both of his wrists. It’s clean, and it’s masculine, and Jeongguk wants to crack Seokjin open like a pomegranate and eat the seeds that trickle out. Lick the juices from his fingertips. He can’t help himself. Jeongguk dives into the crook of Seokjin’s neck and takes a fat whiff.
It goes straight past his senses, burns his nostrils. He’s got Seokjin-hyung tunnel vision and it’s making his head feel all fuzzy. Jeongguk isn’t sure where to start. He wants Seokjin’s pants off, legs around his waist, mouth wrapped around his nipples. Seokjin has the prettiest mouth. Shaped like a rose and always covered with chapstick.
“I don’t have anything on me,” Jeongguk says, brushing a thumb under Seokjin’s bottom lip. “Fingers first. Suck.”
Seokjin parts his lips and slurps Jeongguk’s thumb into his mouth. He goes down both knuckles, twirling his tongue so that Jeongguk’s thumb is coated in a thin, warm layer of saliva. It’s good. It’s real good. Jeongguk’s hips buck on impulse. He draws a circle along the inside of Seokjin’s mouth, feels the gummy lining around his teeth and the ridges running along the roof of it. As Jeongguk inches his thumb further down Seokjin’s tongue, he doesn’t pull back or gag. No, Seokjin stays right where he is, eyes rimming wet with tears.
Leaning back in fascination, Jeongguk watches as his thumb slides as far down as Seokjin’s uvula and he still gets no reaction. It’s fucking incredible. Seokjin is incredible. If he thought he could stand to wait, Jeongguk would have his cock jammed down Seokjin’s throat, testing just how much of it he can take before he chokes.
Jeongguk removes his thumb from Seokjin’s mouth with a quiet, wet pop. He stares at the shiny glimmer of spit on his finger for half a second before putting it into his own mouth. Seokjin’s saliva doesn’t taste like much of anything, but Jeongguk swears that it overwhelms his senses.
“God,” he groans. “You’re everything.”
Seokjin dips his head away, avoiding eye contact. He mumbles, “You’re drunk.”
“‘M not,” Jeongguk insists. Well, maybe a little. But not too much that working on unbuttoning Seokjin’s jeans is any more difficult. He makes quick work of it, breath catching when he sees the fat curve of Seokjin’s cock through his briefs. “‘M not. Really.”
There’s a beat of silence. Jeongguk lets it simmer, settle over his skin. He’ll give Seokjin as much time as he needs to consider what they’re about to do. Just as he thinks Seokjin is about to change his mind, slip out through the car door and disappear back into the bar, his voice fills up all of the empty space around them.
“You’ll keep this between us, right?”
Jeongguk looks at him. “Of course, hyung.”
“No bragging,” Seokjin says. “No rubbing it in Taehyungie’s face.”
Jeongguk wants to laugh but swallows it down. He raises a fist in the air, holds out his pinky. “Wanna make me swear it or something?”
Seokjin’s eyes slit, unimpressed. But he latches onto Jeongguk’s pinky with his own, maybe more forcefully than required, and snips, “Nobody’s business but our own, okay Jeongguk? Promise?”
And Jeongguk smirks, nods, tells him, “Pinky promise.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes. He nudges his hips forward, though, so Jeongguk takes that as permission enough to continue taking off his underwear. Too distracted to notice their hands are still interlaced, Jeongguk almost misses the wet slide of a tongue between his index and pointer fingers. He blinks up, sees Seokjin with his mouth full, almost nuts right then and there.
“That’s good,” he’s saying, sloppy and slurred. His mouth doesn’t feel quite like his own. “That-that’s real good. Get ‘em wet, hyung.”
They’re going to need it considering Jeongguk hadn’t expected this to happen tonight and he’s positive Yoongi doesn’t carry condoms or lube in his car. Boring hyung, not nearly as tantalizing as the one whose cock springs out from beneath his briefs, the tip of it tinged an angry, blistering red.
He doesn’t quite understand how they got here. Maybe it was a long time coming, or maybe it was just a stroke of luck, but Jeongguk doesn’t plan on letting it go to waste. He avoids any contact with Seokjin’s cock while tracing his newly soaked fingers down Seokjin’s perineum.
The reaction he gets is better than anything he’s ever imagined; Seokjin’s hips jerk and his knees fall open. His hands clamp down on Jeongguk’s shoulders. He sounds like a dream. All of Jeongguk's teenage midnight fantasies come to life. A shaky inhale through his nose, a whimper out through his mouth. Light and airy as a gentle breeze. Jeongguk watches the slow rise and fall of his chest. When he presses the tip of his finger right up against Seokjin’s hole, all signs of life disappear. Seokjin stills, doesn’t start breathing again until Jeongguk is at least a knuckle deep inside.
“Can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” Jeongguk mumbles, trying to find a comfortable position with one leg still on the backseat while the other finds solid footing on the car floor. It’s so cramped back here that he has no choice but to press his face against Seokjin’s inner thigh. Could hardly be considered his fault if he starts sucking on the supple skin there. “Gonna let me fuck you, hyung?”
“Should I not?” Seokjin asks. He’s got his hands in Jeongguk’s hair now, pulling him away from his thigh. “No marks.”
Jeongguk frowns, thankful that it goes unnoticed in the dark. It’s bullshit. Such bullshit. If he wants to leave teeth marks all over Seokjin’s taint, he should be able to. A bruise or two won’t be that hard to explain away. He curls his finger and relishes in the warbled curse he gets in response. That’s right, he thinks. Those sounds are only for me right now.
“I’ll make it good,” Jeongguk says as he slips in another finger. It’s too dry already. The glide isn’t nearly as smooth. Seokjin doesn’t complain, but Jeongguk knows it has to hurt, so he dips his head down lower and spits. It’s fucking nasty down here. All he can smell is sweat and aged leather and his own breath. It sort of makes his dick fatten up a little bit more. “Promise. Promise, hyung. Tell me what you like, and I’ll give it to you.”
“I like—ah-ah—” Seokjin tries, cut off by a wheeze as Jeongguk spits again, adds another finger, scissors them just enough to see how his hole gasps. “You, Jeongguk. I just like you.”
“Me?”
Seokjin breathes out, locks his ankles tight around Jeongguk’s waist. “You, this. I-I like doing this.”
Fuck. Seokjin’s rules can go to hell. Jeongguk grins wide before licking up the crease between his sac and thigh. “You like sneaking around,” he mumbles, biting into a vein he can feel under his tongue. “‘S that it? D’you want them to catch us, hyung?”
Seokjin’s leg shoots out when Jeongguk blows warm air just under his cock. “Mm-mm.”
“No?” Jeongguk doesn’t believe him. He brings his knees up under his stomach as well as he can in the cramped space, props up on his elbows to get a better view of Seokjin’s face. Sweaty around the edges, eyebrows crystallizing where the perspiration catches. He’s beautiful, fuck. “Don’t want them to see you like this?” He’s pushing it, maybe, but Seokjin has his lips folded and his lashes flutter with every word Jeongguk says. “Only me? This’s only for me, right, hyung?”
“Only you,” Seokjin confirms. He drags a thumb under Jeongguk’s eye. “Big eyes, can always tell what you’re thinking. C’mere.”
Okay. Jeongguk can do that, doesn’t need to be told twice. He shoots up using the strength of his one free arm and lands on Seokjin’s chest. They both wheeze, silly and uncoordinated for a second before Jeongguk slots their mouths together. They kiss with little wet smacks that bounce off the windows of the car. The air around them has turned hot, humid, hard to breathe in without any ventilation. All Jeongguk can smell or taste or hear is Seokjin. His Seokjin-hyung. It gets to him. Really, it does. Has him rubbing his cock along the muscled dip in Seokjin’s calf like a dog in heat.
He wonders what it is that Seokjin can see in his eyes. Is it the frustration that he's had to sit on the sidelines for so long? The desire that always sits at a low simmer somewhere in the pit of his stomach? Or maybe it’s the pure and unadulterated adoration he has for Seokjin. He can’t help it. It might just be laced into every fiber of Jeongguk’s being. And right here, in the backseat of Yoongi’s car, with Seokjin pressed against his body the way he’s always wanted, Jeongguk suddenly isn’t sure how he’s done so well at keeping his hands to himself.
All of that discipline leaks out of him now that permission has been granted.
He pulls away, panting. There is so much of Seokjin that he wants to look at. The brutal shade of red his lips have turned, the strong blush at the tips of his ears, the way that his cock pulses as it continues to be neglected. He wants to confess to every thought he’s ever had about Seokjin the last however many years they’ve known each other: I want you, I dream of touching you, I fucking love you so much it’s unfair.
But he doesn’t. With a gentleness he isn’t sure he can muster but somehow does, he removes his fingers from Seokjin and wraps them around his cock. It’s going to be difficult at this angle; Seokjin on his back, Jeongguk caged around him from above. He’s barely been able to find proper footing. It’s pissing him off. Jeongguk wants this to be good, needs it to be better than anything Seokjin has had before. He huffs, falls onto his bottom in the center seat.
“You’re gonna have to ride me,” Jeongguk says, glancing Seokjin’s way. He isn’t able to catch his eye like he wants because Seokjin’s gaze is caught on the way Jeongguk strokes himself. Heat thrums under Jeongguk’s blood. He likes that low-lidded look of desire on Seokjin’s face so fucking much that he picks up speed. “C’mere,” he mumbles, pressing his thumb into the slit. “‘S yours. Take it.”
Taking the hand Jeongguk holds out for him, Seokjin climbs over into his lap, knees on either side of his hips. He’s a heavy weight, Seokjin. All sinewy muscle he likes to pretend isn’t there. Jeongguk loops fingers around his wrist to guide his hand down to his cock.
“Guide me in,” Jeongguk tells him, slipping his hands under both of Seokjin’s asscheeks, spreading them apart. It’s all heat down here. He wishes he could see how his hole flutters. Pretty, pretty hyung. Fuck. “Can y’do that, hyung?”
Seokjin nods, head bent, brows cinched as he tightens the grip he has around Jeongguk. Must want to get a proper feel of it first because he’s stroking down and winding his wrist once before stroking back up. “Feels good,” he mumbles.
Jeongguk has to dig his heels into the car floor to make sure he stays still. “Does it?”
“Yeah,” Seokjin says. “Big.”
“Bigger than Taehyung?” Than Jimin?
The fist around him hardens, almost painfully so. Jeongguk sucks in a sharp, quick breath. He tries not to whine when Seokjin says, “Don’t be mean.”
“Sorry,” Jeongguk lies, guiding Seokjin further up his lap so that his cock is directly lined up with his hole. “‘M just eager.”
“Always,” Seokjin laughs, rolling his eyes. “Always too impatient for your own good.”
“Your own good now, too.”
Seokjin looks at him, then. “Can you make this last?” he asks, guiding Jeongguk’s cockhead under his perineum. Suffocating heat. Makes Jeongguk’s head spin. He digs his fingers into that fat of Seokjin’s ass, using every drop of self-restraint to not just buck right up. “Take your time with me? Treat me well?”
“Yeah,” Jeongguk breathes, stomach clenching as his cockhead is swallowed into something tight. “Yes, yeah. Of course, hyung, fuck.”
“Dirty mouth,” Seokjin mumbles. He sounds like his mouth is stuffed full of cotton. His head falls back as he sinks down onto Jeongguk’s cock. “Nuh-not a good boy at all.”
Jeongguk’s chest seizes. “I am,” he says, feeling heat drip down his spine and spread along his tailbone. His jaw goes slack as Seokjin rocks his hips, finding a more comfortable position, rubbing their tacky skin together so that it clings and pulls. “I am. I will be.”
Seokjin hums, whispers, “Okay. Show me.” Then he’s arching forward to slot their mouths together.
Jeongguk kisses him back with fervor. He feels it down to his bones; nerves, excitement, intimidation. He’s got a point to prove. He’s got this one night to make sure that the way he lifts Seokjin up by the hips and pulls him back down around his cock feels just as electric for him as it does for Jeongguk. He pokes his tongue out to brush along Seokjin’s. Feels its gumminess, its heat.
Every thrust is slow, deep, aimed in the direction Jeongguk knows Seokjin needs it the most. He keeps making these little mousy noises, meeps and eeps of pleasure, sounds that Jeongguk greedily swallows. Tastes sweet. Tastes like Seokjin. Every smack of their damp skin echoes within the tiny confine of Yoongi’s backseat. Nearly muffles Jeongguk’s ears.
Jeongguk spreads his legs and digs his heels into the car floor, slouching so that he can hit a different angle. It seems to work. Seokjin trembles from above him. His hips roll back and forth, back and forth, meeting Jeongguk halfway with every thrust. Their kiss turns sloppy. Jeongguk can’t help but suck on the tongue in his mouth, run his fingers through Seokjin’s hair and feel the dampness of his scalp.
“You drive me crazy,” he breathes, kissing down Seokjin’s jaw. “‘M so lucky.”
Seokjin clenches around him, voice shuddering as he answers, “Yeah?”
Jeongguk nods into the crook of Seokjin’s neck. “Always the center of attention, yet you’re here with me.”
Seokjin’s laugh is all air, muffled by the moan that sneaks out with it. He guides Jeongguk’s mouth back up to his with two fingers under his chin. Their lips brush but don’t touch. “‘M here with you.”
“Gorgeous hyung,” Jeongguk mumbles. They’re kissing again; messy, gross, more tongue than necessary. Spit covers Jeongguk’s upper lip, makes his skin buzz. “Perfect.”
Seokjin doesn’t reply. Can’t, maybe, not with the way Jeongguk sneaks a hand between them to brush along his erect cock. It weeps from its spot trapped between their torsos. Hasn’t been properly handled yet, waiting for Jeongguk to give it some attention. When he fully winds his fist around the base, Seokjin smacks a hand down on the headrest, shoulders curling so tight he cages Jeongguk in.
God, Jeongguk loves that sound. Loves it so much he does his best to help Seokjin ride him faster. One hand under his ass now, the other stroking him in time with every thrust.
“Fuck, right there,” Seokjin slurs, wet heat convulsing around Jeongguk. “Right-right there, oh my god.”
“Here?” Jeongguk asks, drilling his hips straight up and staying there just to feel the wet drag of Seokjin’s mouth on his chin.
Seokjin nods, sinks further down, winds his fingers around the hairs at Jeongguk’s hair and yanks. It doesn’t hurt, not really. The good type of pain that turns his face hot, makes his spine bow off the backseat. Fuck, this isn’t working. Jeongguk needs Seokjin on his back, legs wrapped around his middle, nails scraping into his shoulder blades. With as much finesse as he can muster—which isn’t very much, keyed up as as he is—Jeongguk flips Seokjin over.
They barely fit like this. It isn’t very comfortable. But Jeongguk is able to pick up speed. He guides one of Seokjin’s legs over his shoulder and sucks on the sharp bone of his ankle as he continues to fuck him. Hard, fast, uncaring of how rough he’s being. Seokjin doesn’t try to stop him or tell him to slow down. No, he gasps around silent moans, chest hiccuping every time Jeongguk hits that bundle of nerves deep inside of him.
“Tell me it’s good,” Jeongguk says. He didn’t realize how much he needed to hear it until Seokjin was below him. “Tuh-tell me you like it, hyung.”
“I like it,” Seokjin whines, toes curling right next to Jeongguk’s ear. One of his hands slams against the window beside him. It’s then that Jeongguk notices the foggy windows, the murky handprint now a dark patch in the middle of grey clouds. “I like it a lot. Holy shit.”
Jeongguk grunts, then. He falls forward as his hips spasm out of control, rhythm lost, mouth desperate to feel the plush of Seokjin’s lips against his own. Kissing him is nearly just as good as fucking him. Jeongguk thinks he could’ve come from just a peck and a hand to his dick, but here he is, listening to the way Seokjin’s breaths quicken the closer he gets.
He feels it, too. That pressure in his groin, the need to let go. It starts with an unbundling of nerves in his gut and spreads out through his ribs, down to his forearms. “‘M gun-ah, hng—” he pants more than his kisses, shakes more than he thrusts. “Gonna come, hyung.”
But before he does, Jeongguk needs to hear the way Seokjin sounds when he comes. He deepens their kiss and winds his fist around Seokjin’s cock, stroking until the leg over his shoulder starts to tremble. Until all of Seokjin starts to tremble. It’s a fascinating discovery for Jeongguk, the way that Seokjin’s chest rattles, his lips quiver, his stomach tightens up. Something he plans to store in the back of his mind and come back to when his imagination isn’t nearly enough.
“Come on, hyung,” he whispers, brushing his fingers along Seokjin’s sac. “Let me hear you. Let me hear that pretty fuckin’ mouth.”
Seokjin throws his head back in a wave of pleasure. “Ah, ah-ah,” he gasps, knee curling in as far as Jeongguk will let it. His cock twitches before spurting out thin ribbons between Jeongguk’s fingers. “Shit, keep going.” He claps a hand down on Jeongguk’s ass. “Come in me, I don’t care, jus’fuck. Fuck, Jeongguk.”
“Holy shit,” Jeongguk blurts, louder than he would’ve liked. It makes Seokjin laugh, which makes Jeongguk laugh, which makes it a lot easier for him to find his rhythm again. “You’re fuckin’ incredible. So sexy, fuck.”
“You’re crazy,” is all Seokjin can say, head bobbing as Jeongguk plows into him.
Maybe.
Maybe Jeongguk is crazy and without manners and the most turned on he’s ever been in his life. But he’s on fucking fire right now, skin burning him alive, stomach tossing and turning as he finally reaches that beautiful point of no return. When he comes, it’s with a muffled yelp between Seokjin’s chest. His hips stutter into a complete stop. He doesn’t dare think about pulling out until he feels every last drop sink into Seokjin’s hole. He hopes he feels full. Hopes he feels satiated. Hopes he feels every last bit of Jeongguk’s intention.
They do a quick clean up using the clump of fast food napkins shoved into Yoongi’s glove box. Jeongguk pockets them with a mental note to throw them away as soon as they’re out of the car. Seokjin is rummaging through the center console, not a drop of tension or regret to be found in the slope of his shoulders.
“Smoke with me?” he asks once done, a box of Marlboros and a lighter in one hand.
Jeongguk shakes his head. “I’m trying to quit.”
He’s got a lollipop shoved into the back pocket of his jeans in case of emergency.
Seokjin frowns, lips still red and raw. “Don’t make me smoke alone,” he says, all lilted and sweet. A fucking honey-trap.
And, well, Jeongguk can’t even think of saying no when Seokjin is looking at him like that.
They find an empty spot in the back alley of the bar. Smells like piss and liquor and fried food back here, and the street lamps cast a yolky shade on various piles of trash, and nearly every time the back door opens Jeongguk jumps, slightly paranoid about their friends finding them out here, but he still feels on top of the fucking world. He’s got his toes hanging off the edge of the highest mountain. Just one push and he’d tumble down, down, down. He thinks it’d be worth it, though. So long as Seokjin was there to soften the blow.
He watches Seokjin from the corner of his eye. Thin plumes of smoke billow out from his mouth every other puff. Nicotine is a strong scent, one that burns Jeongguk’s nostrils. He’d almost forgotten what ash and dried leaves tastes like.
“Hyung,” he says, maybe by accident, maybe on purpose. The thought comes to him like a snack to the face and it feels imperative to spit it out. “I don’t think you should see Taehyung anymore.”
Or Jimin, he wants to add but figures that would be pushing it.
Seokjin’s lips twitch but he doesn’t look over at Jeongguk. He takes a slow, long drag of the cigarette before replying, “And why’s that?”
Because you’re no good for each other.
Because I want you.
Because I’d treat you so much better than he does.
“Just—” Jeongguk hesitates, bravado from before all but disappeared. The orange ember from his cigarette lives on despite him only taking a few hits. “Just because.”
Seokjin snorts. “You can do better than that.”
It was bad manners for Jeongguk to fuck Seokjin.
It would be even worse manners to pluck him right out from the only relationship he’s ever known.
But Seokjin hasn’t scoffed or cursed him out or left him out here by himself in the dark. He waits patiently, the same way Jeongguk has been doing for years.
“Can I take you out?” Jeongguk asks, heart somewhere in his throat. “Just one date. You can decide what you want after that. I just need one chance.”
“You’re not worried this will fuck everything up?” Seokjin’s voice shakes. He tries to cover it up with the cigarette to his mouth, but Jeongguk has spent many years watching him, studying him, and it’s not hard to pick up on his nerves.
What Jeongguk is asking very well may fuck everything up. Taehyung might hold this against him for the rest of their lives, might resent Seokjin for breaking it off. But Jeongguk figures it’s his turn to have a little bit of hate in his heart. It’s only a rite of passage when loving Seokjin so much. Besides, he’ll have Jimin to help quell the ache.
They’ll figure it out.
“I am,” Jeongguk tells him because he has to be honest. It’s the only way to get what he wants. “But I’m more worried about what I’ll do if you don’t give me just this one chance.”
That makes Seokjin’s mouth quirk up to the side. He likes that answer. Likes Jeongguk’s bluntness, maybe. He stubs the cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe once finished and holds it out to Jeongguk expectantly.
Who is Jeongguk if not a pleaser? He offers an open palm, lets the butt fall into it, then he pockets it away alongside their dirty napkins.
“One date?” Seokjin asks, voice soft enough to get carried away with the wind.
But Jeongguk is a Seokjin-hyung expert. Can hear the question and the fear behind it. “One date,” he confirms.
Seokjin exhales, chest caving in as he does so. His gaze lands on Jeongguk’s abandoned cigarette. “Only if you finish that,” he says. “You promised me you wouldn’t make me smoke alone.”
“I always keep my promises, hyung.” Jeongguk brings the cigarette up to his mouth and takes a long drag without breaking eye contact with Seokjin. “You know that.”
And then Seokjin smiles, the straight white line of his teeth making an appearance. Beautiful as always. Jeongguk can’t believe his luck. “Always,” he repeats, almost like he also can’t believe Jeongguk’s luck. “Always so good to me, my Jeonggukie.”
When Jeongguk decides he can’t take it anymore, chest squeezing in too tight around his heart, he flicks the cigarette to the ground and takes Seokjin’s face between his hands to kiss him as hard as he can. Always, he thinks, because it’s the only thing that makes any sense. Always, always, always.