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More than anything, it’s the stormy silence that scares Taehyung.
Being two years older, he knows he shouldn’t be scared, but it’s Jungkook. He’s pretty sure even Seokjin is afraid of their maknae, to some extent.
As they pile into the van after the event, Taehyung decides to choose the seat furthest from the upset maknae, squishing himself into the backseat. Jimin follows behind him, frowning slightly.
“Are you two fighting?” the dancer whispers, eyes widening slightly.
“No,” Taehyung answers without hesitation. Before he says more, he glances at the back of Jungkook’s head. “Um, maybe? I don’t know.”
Jimin rolls his eyes, taking up way too much space on the seat as usual. Taehyung swears that Jimin only exists to torture him and steal his food (and occasionally to suck his dick, but those times are few and far between, these days). “You never know anything,” Jimin sighs, squeezing into Taehyung for some unfathomable reason. “Maybe you should apologise anyway.”
“What?” Taehyung scowls. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Not according to Jungkookie,” Jimin teases. There’s a glint in his eyes that tells Taehyung his best friend knows something he doesn’t. It’s infuriating. “You shouldn’t avoid him. Teamwork makes the dream work and all that.”
“I’m not avoiding him,” Taehyung says loudly. As with most things in his life, he expects his loud voice to force the world to bend to his will. Sometimes it works.
This time… not so much.
“Talk to him,” Yoongi demands, grabbing Taehyung’s phone and tossing it behind him. The younger’s phone clatters to the ground, prompting a half-hearted protest from him, even if it’s just for show.
“What did I do wrong?” Taehyung honestly feels faultless, for once. He hasn’t been bothering Jungkook throughout the entire day. He hadn’t even teased the maknae for getting adopted by that one rookie group with too many members!
Yoongi, utterly apathetic as usual, rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. His features settle into a Look of Authority – the kind he knows Taehyung can’t dispute. He really hates it when Yoongi decides to be proactive.
“I don’t know what you did wrong and I don’t care,” Yoongi announces, completely unaffected by the pout on Taehyung’s face. “Jimin disappeared into Jungkook’s room a couple hours ago and he hasn’t reappeared.”
Taehyung blinks, the puzzle pieces coming together at last. “I highly doubt Jungkook killed him.”
“I haven’t heard anything from either of them. They’ve been completely silent. Not a peep.”
“They’re both napping,” Taehyung suggests, but unease settles in the bottom of his stomach. There’s something itching under his skin – the way Jungkook had looked at him after the event was over, the glint in Jimin’s eye as he told him to apologise – that has him listening to Yoongi anyway.
Nonetheless, he has to put up a fight, so he let’s his head roll back. “Ugh, fine. If our maknae kills me, don’t show up to my funeral.”
Yoongi just snorts, wandering off without further nagging. For a brief moment, Taehyung lets himself wonder why the elder is getting so worked up about it, but figures Jimin probably still owes him money or something. You can’t really collect money from a dead man, can you? Even Yoongi, with his skewed morals (we are talking about the man who sucked Hoseok off in the shower then put a cockring on him. Right before they had to perform on stage) won’t stoop that low. Probably.
He rolls onto his feet, stopping to pick up his phone. He dusts off the screen, checking for scratches – read: not stalling – and nearly drops the poor thing when a cheerful katalk! plays and his screen lights up with a message.
Hyung, come to my room now, please.
Taehyung reads, then re-reads the message. He gulps audibly. Only one person is obligated to call him hyung, but he usually doesn’t. Dear god, he’s terrified of their maknae, if only because he knows how well the 97 liner knows him. If Jungkook is texting him in the proper formal speak, there’s definitely something sinister waiting for him.
He wanders around the hallway for a bit, lingering in the doorway. He can’t explain why he’s so apprehensive, but he just knows his ass is going to get it – figuratively and literally. He contemplates just walking out of the dorm, never to return. Who needs fame anyway?
When his phone rings, he nearly throws it to the wall. Heart pounding and eyes wide, he licks his lips nervously. The caller ID says Jiminie, but Taehyung knows his fellow 95 liner is in Jungkook’s room. Even as he swipes the green call button, he knows he’s going to regret it.
“Taehyung,” Jimin moans breathlessly into Taehyung’s ear. The latter feels his dick start to stir, regrettably enough. He’s never going to run away now. “Where are you? ” The question is followed by a barely restrained cry that Taehyung can almost hear from where he’s standing outside the door.
“Outside,” he answers through numb lips. His whole body flushes hot and cold as he hears Jimin let out another low moan, voice cracking slightly near the end.
“Why aren’t you here?” God, Jimin whining is Taehyung’s favourite Jimin (next to cuddly Jimin and let me fuck you into the sheets tonight while Hoseok hyung is sleeping in the bunk above Jimin). “Tae, please – fuck.”
For a moment, all Taehyung can hear is the rustling of sheets. He’s almost painfully hard, but Jimin has always had that effect on him. God knows how easily Jimin can turn him on. Just a look and a bite of his lip and Taehyung is putty in his hands.
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, voice a deep baritone. Unbidden, Taehyung’s toes curl into the carpet. Now he’s hard, his pants uncomfortably tight. “Didn’t you read my text?”
“I did,” he answers faintly. “Why – why can’t we talk out here?”
The chuckle Jungkook lets out is pure sex and evil. Taehyung hates himself for liking it, wanting to hear it vibrate against his cock while their golden maknae deepthroats him. “We could, but I don’t know if Jimin can make it out there.”
“That’s your hyung, brat.”
“Jiminie hyung?” Jungkook’s voice is light, almost innocent. This time, Taehyung can hear Jimin’s moan loud and clear, even through the thick wooden door.
“Fuck,” he says to himself, hand braced against the doorframe. “Fuck, okay, I’m coming in. Just – go easy on him.”
There’s silence on the line. Taehyung swears he can hear the exact moment Jungkook’s lips curl into a smirk. “No promises. Don’t forget to leave the door unlocked when you come in, hyung.”
The instruction tears a pathetic whine from Taehyung’s throat, knees already shaky. Fucking Jeon Jungkook, knowing all the little things that sends his llibido skyrocketing. His palms are damp as he turns the doorknob, gasping at the sight that welcomes him.
Jimin is on his knees, his plump ass raised in the air. His head is pillowed in his arms, but he raises his head when the door open. He lips part; Taehyung has a feeling his best friend was about to curse him out, but a moan spills from his swollen lips instead.
“Jesus, Jiminie,” Taehyung breathes, cheeks flushing. Maybe this Jimin is his favourite Jimin. “You’re gorgeous.”
“Close the door.”
The simple order has shivers racing down Taehyung’s spine. He lets his eyes wander down the pale skin of Jimin’s back. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth as he follows the curve of Jimin’s ass, where Jungkook has three fingers thrusting in and out of Jimin’s cute little hole. The maknae’s eyes are dark as he appraises Taehyung. There’s something calculative in his dark eyes.
When Taehyung finally steps into the threshold of the room, he feels like he’s walking into the den of a hungry wolf. The door shuts behind him with a soft click.
For a few moments, the only thing that can be heard is Jimin’s desperate whines as Jungkook works him open at an achingly slow pace. Underneath the heavenly sounds of Jimin’s pleasure is the slick sounds of Jungkook’s fingers sliding in and out effortlessly.
“You’re late,” Jungkook continues, seemingly unaffected by the way Jimin’s ass must be sucking in his fingers. “Look what you’ve done to Jiminie hyung.”
“S-sorry,” he stutters, eyes glued to Jungkook’s fingers disappearing into Jimin’s ass. “I – am I being punished?”
Jimin keens, hips canting back onto Jungkook’s fingers. The dancers hands clench in the sheets, back arching as he rocks back. The look on his face tells Taehyung that Jungkook’s found his prostate and isn’t letting up. He wonders if Jimin will come like this – he loves it when his best friend comes untouched. Jimin always says it’s more intense, his cock sensitive enough to coax a couple more orgasms from his tired body.
“I’m not happy,” Jungkook answers idly, answering the question without explicitly doing so. “What the fuck were you trying to do earlier, hyung?”
Taehyung blinks, brain sluggish because all of the blood in his body is rushing straight to his cock. “What did I do?”
“Fuck, quit acting dumb, Tae,” Jimin whines, a shudder wracking through his body. “Jungkook, baby, please. I’m so close – ”
“No,” the younger snaps. Jimin groans, back arching before he's hunching down once more, body trembling. Taehyung’s brain momentarily goes blank at the sight of Jimin being denied the orgasm he’s craving. “Not until hyung tells me what he’s done wrong.”
Taehyung is clueless. He’s done so much today. If anything, he’s the one who should be angry. He’s not the one who ran off to make friends with some preppy boyband . “Jungkook, I don’t…”
It suddenly hits him, like he’s been run over by a spaceship. He’s an idiot for not realising (and literally everyone else would hit him for it).
“If this is about the archery thing – ”
“Shut up,” Jungkook snaps, cutting him off. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. I want you to strip.”
A part of Taehyung wants to rebel; Taehyung is older, he doesn’t have to listen to shit. However, another part – a bigger part – wants to hear more of Jungkook’s commands and obey without hesitation.
Predator or prey? He can never choose.
Sometimes – like when he’s with Namjoon or Seokjin – he wants to see the other party break, reduce them to a moaning, shivering mess. There’s something cathartic about seeing someone so strong, so solid, break down in front of him – for him. After all, Namjoon is wound too tight and Seokjin’s voice is a gift from the gods. Who knew such a pretty face could look even prettier when it’s stained with tears and come?
With anyone else, it’s a give or take. Sometimes he’ll lead, other times he’ll let them. When he’s in the mood to be held down and fucked, he’ll go to Hoseok. Behind that sunshine smile and loud personality is something dark – a monster that needs to be coaxed out and placated sometimes.
If he just wants to be told what to do and be forced to come from the mere sound of a voice, Yoongi is always there. Maybe it’s because they’re both from Daegu, or maybe it’s simply the way Yoongi drawls every word, his voice turning gruffer with every second. He can’t remember the number of times the rapper has made him come in his pants from a brush of his fingers, a whispered command against the delicate shell of his ear.
But with Jungkook… Jungkook is different. There’s this primal need to submit that transcends age or stature. Taehyung doesn’t know if it’s the way he holds himself or if it’s just his pheromones, but more often than not, Taehyung will listen to what the maknae says. After all, Jungkook is the only one he trusts to wreck him completely.
That’s why he obeys without protest. He shoves his shorts down his legs, biting back a smirk when he notices Jungkook’s tongue dart out to wet his lips. He’s glad he decided to forego underwear after his shower today. He fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt, letting his gaze drag across Jimin’s trembling body. His gaze locks with Jungkook’s and he lets a smirk settle on his lips as he slowly inches the shirt up his chest and over his head.
In that moment, as Jungkook admires Taehyung in all his naked glory, he looks his age. Their maknae is so mature that it’s easy to forget he’s only twenty. He just has so much presence in a room, in their lives and Taehyung can’t imagine Bangtan without Jeon Jungkook.
The moment passes quickly though. Taehyung can feel the power shift, until the only commanding presence allowed in the room is Jungkook. The younger jerks his head towards the desk. “Bring the chair over and sit down.”
Taehyung twitches. He’s aching to touch – wants to trace the faint lines of muscles on Jimin’s back, take Jimin’s cock into his mouth and watch as his best friend begs to come. Jungkook stares him down, daring him to disobey. Taehyung weighs his options, then decides the punishment isn’t worth it.
He takes a seat, hissing when Jungkook pulls his lube-coated fingers out of Jimin. The latter whines, hips canting back for friction. Taehyung can just imagine his puckered hole,clenching around nothing. A drop of precome leaks from the tip of Taehyung’s cock, running down the side.“Please,” he begs, voice wobbling. “Don't stop, Jungkookie, why'd you stop?”
The maknae presses a kiss to Jimin’s tailbone, making the elder moan. “I need to teach Taehyung hyung a lesson. Fuck yourself open for me, hm?”
Jimin whimpers. Taehyung can’t tear his eyes away as Jimin slips two fingers into himself, his fingers not even lubed. The slide in is smooth and it’s not long before Jimin’s moans are ringing through the room.
He’s so distracted by the show Jimin is putting on that he doesn’t notice what Jungkook is doing until it’s too late. He only snaps back to himself when the ties around his wrist are tightened.
“Ow. The fuck?” Jungkook simply smiles in reply, canines flashing dangerously.
Taehyung gives the fabric around his wrist a cursory tug, grimacing at how little give there is. He really doesn’t want him getting loose this time.
Is it too late for him to join a traveling circus?
Taehyung’s breath hitches as the raven-haired boy pushes his knees apart, settling between his spread legs. He mouths up Taehyung’s thighs, leaving a cooling trail of spit along the sensitive skin.
“I’ve been wondering how to punish you all day,” the younger whispers into his thigh. He looks innocent, looking up through his bangs as he switches legs and slowly mouths another wet trail towards Taehyung’s cock. “You know how much I hate losing, hyung.”
“Yeah, I know,” Taehyung rasps, biting back a moan as Jungkook starts nipping, his teeth worrying reddened skin until it splotches with red. They both know it’ll leave a mark. That’s what Jungkook was hoping for; he loves leaving marks in hidden places, just so his victims can remember he’s been there. A quip about Jungkook pretending to be a vampire gets stuck in Taehyung’s throat when the younger laps at his balls, lips brushing the base of his erection.
His hips attempt to buck into Jungkook’s face, but his strong hands have him held down. He feels so helpless, tied up and held down so he can’t go anywhere. Belatedly, he realises that Jimin’s moans have quietened.
He looks at his best friend blearily. Jimin is watching, still rocking his hips back onto his own fingers. He’s not as desperate now, eyes glued to Taehyung. The expression in his eyes is hungry. It has him flushing, his back nearly arching off the chair when Jungkook sucks on the tip of Taehyung’s cock.
Jungkook’s mouth is a masterpiece. As he takes Taehyung in, inch by agonisingly slow inch, all he can think of is how soft and wet Jungkook’s mouth is. He’d love to hold the maknae down and fuck his mouth, pull out and paint him with his come. That would never happen, but the image has Taehyung hanging on the precipice.
“Fuck, how is this a punishment?” Taehyung gasps, eyes squeezed shut as he tries to stop himself from coming embarrassingly fast. “Jungkook, Jungkook, stop – ”
Just as the words leave his mouth, he already regrets it. Jungkook,that little shit, pulls off, leaving Taehyung spinning from his almost orgasm.
If Taehyung’s hands were free, he’d smack the smug grin of the little brat’s face. Before he can start cursing the younger out, he wraps a hand around Taehyung’s aching cock, stroking down slowly.
“But this is a punishment,” Jungkook murmurs wickedly. “I’m going to leave you on the edge, over and over again. Then, I’m going to make you come. But first, I’m going to fuck Jiminie hyung while the vibrating cockring keeps you in check.”
“Vibrating what?”
He feels it then, a soft ring nestled at the base of his cock. He’d been so distracted by the friction that he’s failed to notice the ring slipping onto him. Fuck, Jungkook was getting more –
Before Taehyung can complete the thought, the cockring starts vibrating. The pleasure shoots up Taehyung spine, his toes curling immediately as he bucks upwards.
“No, Jungkookie, don’t,” he gasps, head thrashing as he tries to get away from the intense pleasure. “I can’t – not like this – fuck.”
Jungkook just watches Taehyung as he suffers, a smirk curling the corners of his lips. “You look so pretty, hyung,” he murmurs, leaning forward brushing his lips against Taehyung’s bare skin. The Daegu native whines as he latches onto a nipple, flicking it lightly with his sinful tongue. He licks and nips his way up Taehyung’s chest, breath hot against his ear. “I’m going to wreck you so you’ll look prettier, okay?”
A garbled moan escapes Taehyung’s throat. He tries to steal a kiss, but Jungkook is already gone. His attention has shifted from Taehyung to Jimin, who has three fingers thrusting into his hole. Strained cries escape Jimin’s lips with every thrust in, the tear tracks on his face shining in the dim light. His cock is an angry shade of red, precum weeping from the tip. There’s a damp spot on the sheets that’s all Jimin and it’s so fucking beautiful. Taehyung feels like his head (or cock, whichever breaks first) might explode.
“Fuck me,” Jimin groans as Jungkook presses a chaste kiss to the elder’s hole. Jungkook chuckles before he’s licking along Jimin’s rim, tongue slipping in.
“So hot,” Taehyung croaks, drinking in the way Jimin fucks back onto Jungkook’s tongue. His mouth goes dry at the way Jimin’s hips roll back into Jungkook’s face. The younger looks blissed out, utterly content to be used like this, so long as he knows Jimin won’t come without his permission.
Between the vibrations on his dick and the visuals in front of him, it doesn’t take much before he’s forcing out a dry orgasm, thighs shaking from the sheer pleasure. Taehyung lets out a sob, riding out the unsatisfying orgasm with useless jerks of his hips.
Jimin keens, head thrown back from Jungkook’s ministrations. “Taehyungie,” he moans breathily, fingers scrabbling at the sheets. “Fuck, oh fuck, Jungkookie – gonna come – ”
A strangled groan filters through the air, Jimin completely collapsing as Jungkook pulls away. The elder is inconsolable, utterly wrecked from being denied an orgasm once more. “Jungkook, please,” he begs, voice raw. He twitches, cheek pressed to the sheets. He looks at Taehyung with glassy eyes, prompting a whimper from the restrained male; he looks like he’s in the most beautiful form of despair. His frizzy blonde hair is a mess, pales cheeks flushed a deep crimson. There are tear tracks trailing down his cheeks and his chin is wet with spit, too far gone to care that he’s drooling all over himself.
Taehyung clenches and unclenches his hands, panting as his release creeps up on him. He tries to hold it back, knowing he won’t gain any relief unless Jungkook (and it has to be Jungkook, damn it) takes the cockring off.
Unfortunately for him, it seems that his punishment isn’t over just yet.
“Jiminie hyung,” Jungkook purrs, voice saccharine. “Get up. You’re gonna use your pretty mouth on Taehyung hyung’s poor, neglected cock.”
Little Taehyung is far from neglected, he thinks hazily, shifting from his oncoming dry orgasm. If anything, his dick might fall off from all the stimulation. It’s achingly hard, the tip an angry shade of purple.
“Fuck you,” Taehyung manages to choke out, voice gruff. He slips into Daegu satoori, all control demolished from his almost-orgasm. Jungkook’s eyes narrow as he pulls Jimin up by his hair, the elder Busan boy crying out from the pain and pleasure.
“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook says bluntly. “I didn’t ask for your opinion, hyung.”
I swear to fucking god… Jungkook must be the only brat in the world who can make an honorific sound like an insult, yet still make Taehyung’s dick twitch for him.
All Taehyung can do is glare and tremble as Jungkook forcefully drags Jimin until he’s kneeling in front of Taehyung, soft hands resting on Taehyung thighs. He lets out a curse as Jimin licks his lips, pink tongue darting out and swiping slowly. Jimin looks entranced, like all he wants is to lick and suck Taehyung’s cock until the vocalist is coming with a shaky moan.
“Can I?” Jimin asks demurely. Taehyung almost answers, then realises the question isn’t for him. It’s for Jungkook, who’s been leading them this entire time. The maknae nods once, sharply, and a loud moan slips from Taehyung’s lips as Jimin expertly deepthroats him, humming around his length.
All it takes is the sensation of Jimin swallowing around him before Taehyung is clawing at the arms of the chair, the pleasure rising and crushing him too fast. Low, guttural moans tear from his throat as his orgasm doesn’t stop, only made worse by the combined onslaught of the cockring and Jimin’s mouth.
Taehyung can’t tear his eyes away, mesmerised by the way Jimin bobs his head up and down, letting out the most wanton sounds. The vocalist swears the sound of Jimin sucking on his cock is going to haunt his wet dreams for the rest of his life.
“Too much, it’s too much,” Taehyung gasps as the waves of pleasure intensify once more. He swears he’ll die if he doesn’t get to come down Jimin’s throat, his cum spilling out and staining the dancer’s chin and chest.
Jungkook just smirks, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth as he slides into Jimin in one sharp thrust. The dancer whines, the vibrations intensifying. Taehyung swears he’s in hell as his third orgasm slams into him, dick twitching in an attempt to bring him relief. The pleasure is bordering on pain, tears slipping onto his cheeks. He can barely see anything, but he can make out the faint silhouette of Jungkook fucking into Jimin.
Jimin is making the most beautiful noises, pulling off Taehyung’s cock to lap at the tip. Between sucks to his sensitive head, Jimin begs for his release. Jungkook smacks the side of Jimin’s thigh, making him cry out. His voice cracks at the end as Jungkook lands another smack to Jimin’s other thigh.
“You like that, don’t you.” It’s a statement, not a question, but Jimin nods fervently anyway. “I saw the way you reacted when Taehyungie hyung smacked you earlier. You thought I didn’t notice the tent in your pants? And when you ran away to the bathroom… it was so obvious. What a slut.”
Jimin lets out a wail then, fingernails digging into Taehyung’s thighs. There’ll be marks left behind – and Taehyung loves it. He’ll tease Jimin about it for days after, laughing as his best friend turns pink at the slightest mention.
Jungkook fucks into Jimin faster, the slick sounds of his cock sliding in and out of Jimin’s hole nearly masked by the slapping of skin. Jungkook continues spanking Jimin; when Taehyung blinks away the tears, he can see how red the sides of his best friend’s thighs are. It’ll chafe against Jimin’s pants when they dance – the way Jungkook anticipates. It’s so hot.
“More – more,” Jimin pants, head resting on Taehyung’s thigh. It’s the worst sort of torture for Taehyung, feeling Jimin’s hot breath washing over his cock and knowing the dancer won’t do anything about it. He’s so close, eyes glazed and mouth hanging open as the pleasure creeps on him.
“Dirty slut, you’re going to come just like this, aren’t you?” Jungkook murmurs, a cruel edge in his voice, the kind he knows Jimin gets off to. “I don’t even have to touch your pretty little cock. Feeling me pound into you like this is enough, isn’t it?”
“Yes, yes, yes,” Jimin breathes, voice pitching higher the closer he gets. “Close, closeclose close, can I come, Kookie? Please.”
Jungkook spanks Jimin twice more – the pale skin turning a bright red that’ll fade to purple by tomorrow – before he leans over and murmurs into Jimin’s ear, “Come for me, hyung.”
Jimin’s back bows as he sobs out his release. His entire body is shaking and Taehyung swears the dancer’s eyes roll to the back of his head. He can feel some of Jimin’s cum splatter against his foot and he’s pretty sure he can see stars from how unbelievably aroused he is. Jungkook is still fucking into Jimin, not letting up until Jimin’s moans gradually get louder, his voice finally cracking as the maknae forces another weaker orgasm from him.
Taehyung’s head spins as another dry-orgasm creeps up on him. His vision whites out for a moment as the pleasure robs him of his senses. His dick is throbbing, an unhealthy shade of purple as the pleasure cycles through his body, providing no relief whatsoever.
Between one blink and the next, Jungkook goes from pulling himself out of Jimin’s twitching hole to hovering over Taehyung, his lubed cock leaving streaks across Taehyung’s stomach.
“Poor hyung, all worked up,” Jungkook purrs.
“Brat,” Taehyung gasps, straining against his ties. “Fuck, if I get loose – ”
“But you won't. You'll let me do whatever I want.”
Fucking brat. He hates how confident the maknae is, but it's not unfounded. Taehyung would let Jungkook get away with anything. It’s not because he's younger and it's not because he's dominating; it's because he's Jeon Jungkook and he makes Taehyung feel things.
Taehyung hisses as Jungkook wraps a hand around both their cocks, thrusting once experimentally. A moan slips from Jungkook’s perfect lips, his eyelashes fluttering. For once, Taehyung can't focus on the friction. All he can see is Jungkook, lip swollen and pupils blown wide with desire. He swears, having Jungkook in his lap is like having his own personal Aphrodite.
“Want you in me,” Jungkook breathes, hips moving faster. Taehyung lets his head fall back, groan ripped from his throat.
“Fuck, that’s hot,” the elder whines, bucking up into Jungkook’s grip. “I’d love to, babe, but you’re not prepped – oh my fucking god, Jesus Christ.”
Taehyung doesn’t expect Jungkook to get up on his knees, reaching back and pulling a plug out of his ass. Jungkook grins lazily, lips wrapping around the slick toy and sucking. If Taehyung hadn’t been hard for the last fifteen minutes, the sight of Jungkook sucking on the butt plug would’ve fixed it.
“Isn’t it pretty?” Jimin sighs, nosing along Jungkook’s neck as he positions the maknae over Taehyung’s cock. He lets the tip of Taehyung’s cock catch on Jungkook’s stretched rim, making both of them moan. “I walked in on Kookie spreading himself open, moaning your name.”
“Mine?” The question slips from Taehyung’s lips, barely a whisper. He can’t catch his breath, feeling too hot and restless to think about what that means.
“For you,” Jungkook gurgles, trying to fuck down onto Taehyung’s length. “I’m ready, hyung. Please, wanna get fucked.”
Taehyung garbles something that might be a curse. He can’t think beyond the haze of arousal. “Off – off,” he pants, shivering from head to toe. “The cockring – off.”
Jungkook noses along Taehyung’s jaw. “You won’t come the moment I take it off, will you?” he asks, Busan satoori ingrained in every word. Taehyun shakes his head furiously, even if he’s not sure he’ll be able to restrain himself. The thought of coming in Jungkook’s tight hole… his head is spinning from the mere thought.
Jungkook’s teeth clamp on the lobe of Taehyung’s ear, prompting a low moan as the younger’s tongue flicks at the sensitive skin. “You’d better not,” he hisses, “or I’ll have to punish you again.”
If Jungkook keeps talking like that, he might come anyway. He nearly expires on the spot when he feels Jimin’s small hands inching the cockring off, the maddening vibrations finally absent, yet still lingering. It’s like the ghosts of the vibrations can’t let him go, making his cock more sensitive than he ever thought possible.
“Go slow,” Taehyung strains, groaning when Jungkook’s rim presses against the head of his cock, clenching and unclenching eagerly.
“Wouldn’t want you to come too fast,” Jungkook teases, sinking down at a glacial pace. “Fuck, hyung, you’re so thick.”
“You’re so tight,” Taehyun croaks, thighs trembling from the force of holding back his orgasm. “Pretty boy.”
Jungkook gasps at the praise, slamming down until he’s seated all the way. The sudden friction has Taehyung cursing lowly, breaths coming out in gasps because he wasn’t ready. That… was an interesting reaction.
“You like that, pretty boy?” Taehyung whispers, eyes widening when he feels Jungkook clench around him. “Oh, you’re a slut too, aren’t you?”
“Sh-shut up,” Jungkook demands shakily, lifting up and sinking down slowly.
“Pretty boy,” Taehyung says, almost vindictively. He enjoys watching the pleasure run from the top of Jungkook’s head to the tips of his toes, making him speed up just that little bit. “You love being called a pretty boy, like some praise slut.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Jungkook growls, even as his cheeks turn redder. His eyes are glazing over as he moves his hips, agile like the young, lithe dancer he is. “That’s a lot of talk for someone who loves being my bitch.”
“You guys are so foul mouthed,” Jimin tuts, pressing between Jungkook’s shoulder blades so the maknae is leaning forward. “You should find something else to do with your mouths.”
Before Jungkook can protest, Taehyung is leaning up to mould their lips together. Jungkook moans into the kiss, lips parting so he can force his way into Taehyung’s mouth (not that he was putting up much of a fight) and claim his territory.
Taehyung can taste the strawberry lube from his maknae’s mouth, but it does nothing to mask Jungkook’s own unique taste. He swallows every single moan that tries to leave Jungkook’s soft, soft, soft lips, letting the younger nip at his bottom lip until it’s red and swollen.
When Jungkook pulls away, there’s something infinitely satisfying about seeing how debauched he looks. Taehyung thinks he looks so pretty like this, but not quite as pretty as when he’s on stage or when he’s engrossed in some strange anime. He bucks up and Jungkook gasps, fingers slipping into the vocalist’s hair and tugging. Taehyung moans, fucking up into Jungkook just as he slams down.
“Hyung,” Jungkook cries out, hips rolling down. “Ah, hyung.”
Taehyung glances down, watching the way he disappears into Jungkook. His view is blocked when Jimin reaches around Jungkook, fisting his leaking cock. The maknae lets out a shrill Jiminie, head thrown back so Taehyung can admire the column of his neck. He’s aching to mark it up, let the whole world know Jeon Jungkook belongs to him someone.
Jungkook tightens around Taehyung’s cock, thighs trembling. “Gonna come,” he gasps and Taehyung bucks up into him more desperately.
“I wanna – can I – Jungkookie, please,” Taehyung rasps, barely able to breathe as Jungkook clenches around him tight, gripping him like he’ll never let go. “Please, I’ve been good, let me come.”
“Yeah, yeah, okay. Just – fucking come.”
Taehyung keens, voice cracking embarrassingly as he finally spills into Jungkook. He swears he actually blacks out from how hard he came. Even through the haze, he can still feel Jungkook milking him, barely twitching when he feels Jungkook come on his chest. Jungkook is surprisingly vocal, sounding absolutely blissful as he moans through his orgasm, muscles still spasming around Taehyung oversensitive cock. It’s too much for his poor, abused dick and he’s somehow shivering out another stream of cum, whining through the orgasm.
“Shit,” Jungkook pants, pulling on Taehyung’s hair so they can kiss again. There’s too much teeth and not enough tongue, but it’s less frantic than when they had kissed five minutes ago. The ties around Taehyung’s wrist are released and his hands immediately make their way to Jungkook’s bony hips, one hand slipping down to squeeze his soft ass.
“I’m dead,” Taehyung groans, letting his eyes slip shut. “You killed me, brat.”
“You weren’t complaining three minutes ago.”
“Shut up,” Taehyung says, pulling Jungkook down so his head is nestled in the crook of the elder’s shoulder and neck. “Are you still upset with me for losing at archery?”
Jungkook hums thoughtfully, thinking about it, then shakes his head slightly. “You fucked it out of me,” he snickers, shifting slightly. Taehyung moans, grip tightening. “Sorry. Too sensitive?” He sounds vaguely smug. Taehyung pinches his ass in retaliation.
“How about you put on the cockring next and I fuck Jimin in front of you, then we see if you’re sensitive after all that,” Taehyung grumbles.
“No,” Jungkook says without hesitation, frowning slightly. “Don’t do that.”
Taehyung’s taken aback, not used to having Jungkook react like this after a session. “Are you okay?” he asks, rubbing his maknae’s hipbone carefully. “Hey, I was just kidding, about the cockring. You don’t have to – ”
“Not that,” Jungkook says shortly. “I – never mind.” He sits up, wincing slightly as Taehyung’s cock slips out, followed by a trail of cum dripping out of him. “I’m going to shower.”
“Jungkook, come here,” Taehyung sighs, grabbing the younger by the wrist and seating him back in his lap. He makes a cursory glance around the room, but it’s empty. Jimin must have left to shower first. “Talk to your TaeTae hyung, okay?”
His maknae grumbles to himself, clearly upset (not pouting, because Jungkook would rather shoot himself in the foot than pout.) “Don’t fuck Jimin hyung in front of me,” he mutters, hunching down like he’s trying to curl into himself. “I don’t… I don’t like it.”
“Okay? I mean, we don’t have to, um…” He’s not sure where he’s going with this. “Jungkook-ah, is there something wrong?”
The maknae scowls, nose scrunching cutely. “I like you,” he says through gritted teeth. “Don’t fuck Jimin hyung in front of me like that.”
“Oh.” Oh. Taehyung would be lying if he said he didn’t feel the same way. “Cool. ‘Cause I kinda like you too. It’d be awkward if you didn’t.” He laughs awkwardly. “Does this mean I can call you boyfriend now?”
“No.” Pink creeps up Jungkook’s neck, but there’s a faint smile on his lips. “This doesn’t mean I’ll call you hyung more often.”
Taehyung shoots his boyfriend his signature boxy grin. “That’s fine. That just means I don’t have to stop calling you brat.”