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There’s a question that interviewers love to ask Yoongi, one he’s considered banning at this point. It exists in a few different variations, but it all boils down to, who’s the most important person in your life? Most days, Yoongi will answer put on his best smile, maybe a little scoff, and say my fans of course, who else? If he’s in a playful mood, he might name his manager, someone he looks up to, or if he’s really bored, the head of his company.
It’s not like he’s really lying — barring the last one — but it’s not the entire truth. They do mean a lot to him, but not as much as one person in particular. One who he’s had to keep in the shadows for years out of love and safety.
Following a long day of schedules, which included various meetings and content to film, Yoongi is finally on his way home. He’s always excited to go home after work, but is particularly excited today because of a text he received earlier in the middle of a meeting.
It’s rare for his manager to be the bearer of good news, but sometimes miracles happen. Instead of getting another week’s worth of schedule, it’s a single line that reads: he’s waiting for you.
Yoongi’s heart is beating so loud, it drowns out the world around him. His fingers are trembling, and he can hardly keep his grip on his drink. He tries, and fails several times, to put the straw to his mouth, constantly knocking it into his lips. It’s a blessing that no one can see him like this — the windows of his car are tinted, and his chauffeur is too focused on the road to notice Yoongi’s breakdown.
When was the last time they saw each other? Yoongi is putting the finishing touches to his newest album, and is in talks for his upcoming tour, so things have been hectic. They’ve mostly been communicating over text, sending each other sporadic updates and the occasional selfies. Yoongi is mostly on the receiving end, which sends pangs through his chest. He assures Yoongi that it’s fine, he understands that Yoongi is busy and can’t always attend to him, but the stress never goes away.
The only thing that helps are nights these, when Yoongi can actually see him.
His car pulls into the garage, where Yoongi gets out. He nearly stumbles, dropping his drink and bag, but recovers immediately. Yoongi attempts to take another sip, this time actually managing to reach the straw, before staggering over to the elevators.
He has to wait an eternity for them to come down — were they always this slow? — before he can get on. The ascent is nerve-wracking, and Yoongi finds himself wondering if he really needed to live on the top floor.
When the grind to a halt, Yoongi braces himself, as he tightens his hold on his bag and drink.
The doors slide open to an empty apartment, and Yoongi’s heart sinks to his chest. Has he already left because he was left waiting for too long? Or was he never here, the text from his manager being a hoax or prank of sorts.
No, Yoongi is getting ahead of himself again. He reminds himself that there’s no reason anyone would be waiting in the entryway. Obviously he’s getting settled somewhere more comfortable.
Crossing through the threshold of the foyer, he ends up in front of the terrace, and stops in his tracks. Generally, Yoongi will find him lounging in the kitchen, or maybe the living room, sometimes even his bedroom.
This is probably the first time he’s out there, and Yoongi starts to panic. He discards his belongings at a nearby table, and straightens his clothes. Yoongi regrets dressing so casually today in a hoodie and pair of jeans, and wonders if he has enough time to get changed.
Yoongi lifts his head up, and makes eye contact with him.
Shit, he’s caught.
He doesn’t move from his spot. Instead, he settles in more, getting cozy up against the railing. Yoongi knows he won’t be stopped or chased after, but he can’t escape.
With a shaky hand, Yoongi opens the door to the terrace, and is met by a gust of cold wind.
It’s dark, the only source of illumination coming from Seoul’s skyline. Yoongi’s eyes need a moment to adjust, and take in the scene before him.
He looks gorgeous, and Yoongi is about to comment, but the location sinks in for him.
“Taehyung, what are you doing out here?” Yoongi hisses. “You might be seen!”
No response. He has a lazy smile playing on his lips, a wine glass nested between his fingers.
“I’m here.” Yoongi holds his hand out. “Come inside.”
Taehyung pouts defiantly, but he pushes himself off to stand up straight, and follows Yoongi into the apartment. He makes sure to lead Taehyung into the bedroom, which is blocked out from the world with blackout curtains.
Now that they’re on safe territory, Yoongi allows himself to really look at Taehyung, and he lets out an audible gasp.
He’s in a deep red shirt, almost entirely unbuttoned save for the last two, baring out his chest. He has it tucked into black slacks, and completed with a jacket in an even darker shade of red than the shirt. His honey-blonde hair is pushed away from his face, a pair of sunglasses nestled into it.
“You like what you see?” Taehyung asks, smirking. The wine glass has disappeared from view — he probably dropped it off somewhere when Yoongi dragged him in — which allows him to throw up two V signs.
“I—I—” Yoongi stutters, grasping for words. “I—wow. You look like a celebrity.” He feels even more self-conscious about his own clothes now. Fuck, if only he could have changed before Taehyung spotted him.
“Isn’t that funny?” Taehyung scrunches his face, softening his features.
“Yeah.” Yoongi wonders how different things would be if Taehyung was actually a known figure.
“Cheer up, hyung.” Taehyung cups Yoongi’s face in his hands, and beams down at him. “I’m here. You missed me, didn’t you?”
Yoongi nods, and lets Taehyung pull him closer, until their noses brush.
“I missed you too.” He whispers, and drops a small peck on Yoongi’s lips. “So damn much.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t — what are you apologising for? You did nothing wrong. We’ve just been busy, life gets in the way. That’s normal.”
Except nothing is really normal for Yoongi, but he doesn’t want to kill the mood thinking about it.
Instead, he just says, “I wish I could see you more often.”
“Me too, hyung. But it’s okay, I’m here now, and we can do whatever you want.” Taehyung’s hands slide down to Yoongi’s waist, his pupils blown wide. “Anything at all, hyung. Just say the word, and I’m yours.”
Yoongi’s breath hitches, his inhibitions flings out the window. He likes to think of himself as a composed man, but when Taehyung is giving him that look… how can he hold back?
He grabs Taehyung by the jaw, and slams his lips against his. Their mouths part, and Yoongi shoves his tongue down Taehyung’s throat. The action catches him off guard, making him choke a bit, but he quickly recovers, his lips curling into a smile.
Yoongi uses his free hand to grab Taehyung’s thigh, digging his nails into it. Taehyung gasps at the pressure, and whines into Yoongi’s mouth, “Hyung… please take me… I can’t…”
“Can’t what?'“ Yoongi pulls Taehyung closer to him, feeling the tightness in his pants against his leg.
“Wait… please, I’ve been waiting so long for this.”
He’s never going to admit this out loud, but Yoongi loves it when Taehyung begs for him so desperately. A part of him wants to give him the release he’s craving, but it’s also just so fun to tease him.
Yoongi breaks off from Taehyung, and admires the state he’s in: the wildness in his eyes, lips puffy from kiss, the way he’s panting with his mouth wide open. He eyes travel down to Taehyung’s exposed chest, and he smirks at a detail on his outfit that he missed the first time — the stack of necklaces he’s wearing.
Two gold chains that blend against his honey skin, one is plain, and the other has a word molded in gold, inscribed in looping cursive. It’s not too legible at first glance, but closer inspection reveals it to be Yoongi’s name.
He runs his fingers over the cool metal, curious about it. Yoongi has never seen this before, and asks Taehyung, “What’s this?”
“Got this custom made.”
“Oh.” Yoongi is a little shocked by it. “Do you wear this all the time, or is it just for me.”
“Everywhere.”
“Not worried about being judged?”
“I don’t give a fuck about what they think.” Taehyung puts his hand over Yoongi’s, enveloping it. “I know who I belong to.”
His breath hitches at Taehyung’s confession. “Fuck.”
“All yours to devour, hyung. So,” he tilts his head to the side, “why don’t you take me?”
Yoongi hooks his fingers around the chain, and uses it to yank Taehyung towards himself once more. The force of it sends him careening back, and he lands on the bed, Taehyung over him.
They pause at the absurdity of the situation — Yoongi is mortified, while Taehyung cracks a smile.
“So enthusiastic, hyung. When you told you to take me I didn’t mean this aggressively.” He teases, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.
“Didn’t mean to pull so hard.” He mumbles. “I was just trying to get a better look at it.”
“With your whole hand over it? Come on, if you’re going to lie, make it believable at least.”
Taehyung is being annoying, so Yoongi shuts up him the only way he can think of: by kissing him. It feels good, but only for a short moment, since he’s getting flattened under Taehyung’s weight. Yoongi pushes Taehyung off, and climbs on top of him, straddling his thighs.
From this angle, Taehyung looks absolutely stunning. The jacket is almost fully off, pooling under him. His shirt has shifted to exposed even more of him, the gold chains tangled over his collarbone.
Yoongi places his palms over Taehyung’s naked chest, pressing them hard against the defined pectorals, kneading it. He drags his hands down to pull the shirt off his shoulders, revealing more skin as it’s taken off. The heat from Taehyung courses into him, and it raises Yoongi’s own temperature as he gets more turned on.
Taehyung’s pupil dilate even more, stretching his eyes into dark voids, while his mouth hangs open. “Hyung…”
“You’re just a tease, Taehyung-ah.” Yoongi croons. “Showing up to my apartment with everything on display. Who else saw you like this on the way here, hm? My staff when they picked you up? The doorman?”
“N—no one else. Just you, hyung.” He gulps. “I only unbuttoned once I got here.”
“What about the balcony stunt, hm?”
“We’re on the top floor, no one would see…”
“You know that’s not true. People will always find what they’re looking for if they’re dedicated.” Yoongi flicks the bud of Taehyung’s nipple, and grins when he flinches. “The paparazzi is always trying to find dirt on me. You and I are always searching for one another. And we always converge.”
“Hyung…”
Yoongi looms over Taehyung, pinning his wrist down to the mattress. “Do you want to get caught? Does that turn you on?”
He stays silent, biting his lip.
“Don’t want to speak?” Yoongi purses his lips. “Okay, then. Maybe this will get something out.”
Pushing his hips back, Yoongi aligns his crotch over Taehyung’s. His bulge has gotten even more pronounced than before, and Yoongi can feel the wetness on Taehyung’s formal pants.
He clicks his tongue at it. “Your nice clothes are getting ruined.”
“It’s okay.”
“As long as you get fucked it’s all fine, hm?”
“Yes.”
“So fucking needy.” Yoongi grinds against him, and Taehyung whines. “You love it when I touch you like this, hm?” He eyes flick down to the necklace, and Yoongi watches the way his name gleams on Taehyung’s skin. “You want the world to know you belong to?”
Taehyung nods, his jaw straining as he bites his lip.
How is Yoongi supposed to stay sane with this view under him? They’re always careful not to leave traces of each other, but Taehyung has already begun playing with the line.
What’s the harm if Yoongi teases it as well?
He bends down to the nape of Taehyung’s neck, his lips kissing the thin chains. As he softly bites on the sensitive skin, Taehyung hisses.
“Hyung…” His voice is low, so low that Yoongi can feel the vibration from his throat against his mouth. Without thinking too much about it, he bites down harder, tugging at Taehyung’s skin with his teeth.
Yoongi lets go of him, and draws back up to admire his handiwork. The mark on Taehyung’s neck is already red, and he knows it’s just going to get darker.
He hasn’t left a hickey on Taehyung in a long while, the last time being the day he signed the contract with his record label. That was a few years ago, and they’ve been so careful since then. Yoongi’s rise to fame was almost immediate, and Taehyung had be kept under wraps.
“If someone asks who did this to you, what will you say?” Yoongi muses.
“Why does it matter?”
“Will you lie?”
“I’ve been lying for years, not like it’s going to make a difference.”
He doesn’t mean to, but Yoongi tightens his grip on Taehyung’s wrist. “I lie too, you know. It isn’t just you.”
“Do you like it?”
“That doesn’t matter. I have to.” Yoongi releases him, and starts to undo Taehyung’s pants. He doesn’t want to think about all this now. The time they spend together is limited as is, there’s no point in wasting anymore.
“What if you didn’t have to, though?” Taehyung asks, and Yoongi pretends not to hear it. He pulls Taehyung slacks down, and tugs at the waistband of his boxers.
“Hyung.” He presses on.
“Don’t ask stupid questions.” Yoongi mutters, and yanks his underwear off. Taehyung is at full mast, his cock red and leaking at the tip. He flicks it, and looks at Taehyung for his reaction, but he isn’t amused.
“I’m asking you something.”
“And I’m trying to fuck you. Are you not eager for it?”
“We can do both.”
“Can we?” Yoongi presses a finger against Taehyung’s hole, and his expression immediately changes, eyes going glassy, his eyelids dropping. “You shouldn’t have discussions when your dick is this wet.”
“Hyung…”
“Yeah, that’s me. Let hyung take care of you.”
Yoongi reaches out over to his side table, and pulls out a bottle of lube. He paws around the supplies, searching for condoms, but turns up blank.
He groans, then recalls they ran out the last time Taehyung came over. Yoongi intended to stock up, but forgot to tell his staff about it. It’s not like he can just run out and grab some.
“Uh, so we have an issue.” Yoongi holds up the lube, and Taehyung glances at it.
“No condoms? It’s fine, we can make do. We’re both clean — it’s not like I fuck anyone other than you, and I know I can say the same for you.”
Yoongi’s lips quirk at the absolute trust his boyfriend has in him, and uncaps the bottle, making sure to lather his fingers as well as he can. “I see and meet a lot of people, Taehyung-ah. How do you know I’m not getting frisky with anyone else?”
“I know where your heart belongs. Even if no one knows I exist, you would never betray me this way.”
This is the man Yoongi needs to keep hidden. The world can’t be allowed to learn about someone as wonderful as Taehyung, who puts his full faith in him.
Taehyung, the person he writes every love song for, ones he has never taken to his professional studio at the company. On the nights when Yoongi misses him too much, he locks himself in his personal setup at home, and pulls out random lyrics, records demos out of them, then files them away under locked folders.
It’s the same Taehyung who leaves shreds of Yoongi in everything he creates. As an art student, he’s required to submit projects, and he always shares his works with Yoongi before submitting them. Although he’s never explicitly mentioned his inspiration, it’s hard not to see it. Every face Taehyung paints has the same angles as Yoongi’s, themes from unreleased demos of his music seeping into Taehyung’s art.
The love they share transcends their physical form, bleeding into their respective crafts. They’re each other’s muses, and always have been.
Even when Yoongi is doing something as uncouth as fingering him, spreading him wide to fuck him, it’s all he can think about. His hands itch to engrave his moment with his lyrics, and he knows that Taehyung is thinking the same.
Being a celebrity is all about hiding these intimate parts of yourself, shielding your loved ones from the public eye. Yoongi was ready to make the separation, but how much longer can he keepp doing this for?
Taehyung mumbles something, but it ends up being garbled, masked by his own moans. Yoongi has an inkling of what he might be asking, and he knows he won’t find out until he’s gotten Taehyung off.
Yoongi speeds up, skipping the part where he would stroke Taehyung’s prostate, and instead eases himself inside him.
Taehyung lets out a sharp exhale when Yoongi slides inside, gripping the sheets as he thrusts in.
“You like that?” Yoongi asks, and Taehyung gives a tight nod.
“Keep going.” He mumbles, but his heart isn’t in it, breaking Yoongi’s heart.
He still wants to make sure Taehyung is satisfied, so Yoongi gives it his all. He grabs Taehyung by the hips, digging his nails as he fucks into him. Pleasure builds up inside Yoongi with every lunge, and Taehyung whimpers, begging for Yoongi to go harder, faster, give him more.
Yoongi doesn’t go too rough, worried about the lack of protection and potentially injuring him, but his pace is fast enough to please Taehyung, as he has no complaints.
Every moment has him inching closer to his climax, building up until the wave washes over him. He comes directly inside Taehyung, who hits his release at the same time. Their moans mingle over each other’s, a lewd harmony of passion that goes on until they both finish.
Once he’s done and spent, Yoongi flops down next to Taehyung, and peeks over at him. “So… I guess we need to talk.”
“Hm?” Taehyung is still blissed out of his mind, and Yoongi drops a kiss on his cheek to bring him back.
“Hey. Do you not like that I keep you private?”
“You sound so accusatory.” He grumbles, and tries to turn away but Yoongi hugs him before he can.
“Taehyung-ah… you know I only did it to keep you safe. But if you’re fine with it I could go public with you.”
“Really?” He bats his lashes at Yoongi. “You’d do that for me?”
“Of course. Anything to keep you happy.” He tucks a stray lock of Taehyung’s hair behind his ear, letting his hand linger there. “I could do a soft launch. Just the hint of a lover to tease the masses before I go all in.”
“What if you did go all in? Posted us the way we are right now?”
“My team would hunt me for sport if I did something like that.” Yoongi shakes his head. He dreads just thinking about the reaction to it. “The last time we saw each other, you took pictures of us, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yeah, that steak dinner you made. It was so good, can we so that again?”
“We will, but I was thinking you could forward one of the pictures to me, the ones where both of our hands were in frame. That wouldn’t be a bad way of hinting at something, would it?”
Taehyung hums, mulling it over, then nods. “I suppose.”
“Then I’ll do that.” He nuzzles into Taehyung’s hair, breathing in his scent — warm and familiar. “I love you, I can’t wait to share you with the world.”
“I can’t for them to find out.”