Work Text:
As soon as Jungkook sat down, he could tell that Yoongi wasn’t pleased to see him here.
You see, they had a little game that they played.
Sometimes Yoongi would show up to one of Jungkook’s events, unannounced, make it a grandiose affair and the media would eat it up. Jungkook would do the same; show his face at Yoongi’s concerts, occasionally at different cities around the globe, get his fill of sex before going on his way.
This was different, though. Yoongi said he was invited to fashion week this season, but Jungkook couldn’t identify which designer, exactly, had taken Yoongi as an ambassador. He asked around; eventually, he found his answer from the designer himself. But Yoongi had no business, no real business, being in Paris and making a fuss of his own presence.
On the other hand, every season, Jungkook knew it was essential that he went. Every fashion week was another chance to get his name and face out there, to broadcast that he was the best, most wanted model from South Korea.
Jungkook was extended an invite to one of the shows Yoongi was going to attend. In this line of work, you need connections just to get around. Lucky for Jungkook, he knew just about every high fashion designer running around Paris this week. And if he didn’t know them personally, well, they certainly knew of him.
For this game, though, Jungkook was used to this being his territory. But when he walked at a show yesterday and caught a glimpse of Yoongi in the silent, analytical audience, he nearly tripped on the catwalk. Yoongi offered a weak smirk, assessed Jungkook in his clothes (or lack thereof), and Jungkook already began forming his plan to get back at him.
So, now they were here, together, at an event where Yoongi was man of the hour, cameras flashing every five seconds, lovesick celebrities greeting him and discussing his latest album, the song that was bringing him to worldwide fame. Jungkook had watched this man grow into the egotistical, over-the-top asshole that he could be.
Yoongi didn’t say anything until there weren’t any photographers lingering in front of them, but even then, his eyes zeroed on the runway, all the while his right hand found Jungkook’s knee.
“Who did you have to bribe to get in here?” Yoongi asked, tilting his chin upwards, looking anywhere but Jungkook.
Jungkook kept his breath from hitching, as the fabric separating Yoongi’s hand from his bare thigh rubbed against his skin. “Why do you always assume I bribed someone?” Jungkook asked with a huff and an eyeroll, folding his arms over his chest. Yoongi threw him a look of disbelief, a chuckle on his lips.
“Because you’re Jeon Jungkook.”
“And you’re Suga, but you don’t have me claiming you bribed someone to get in here.”
Yoongi slid his hand further up, squeezed Jungkook’s thigh, then returned it to his lap. “That’s because I would never do that,” he said, shifting his arm to rest on the back of Jungkook’s chair, doing so as a guise to search for someone. He was so predictable, Jungkook just knew he was faking it.
“I have some memories that prove otherwise,” Jungkook whispered into Yoongi’s ear, leaning into him, pressing his index finger into the exposed skin on his chest, just above the mid-dip collar. Images of Yoongi insisting on going to bed together, when they were obviously both preoccupied with work, appeared in his mind. “You’re kind of a bad influence on me, huh?”
Yoongi readjusted himself in his seat and swatted Jungkook off him, fixing his posture. He flashed another one of his good-boy smiles for the next camera that appeared before them, and Jungkook leaned in at the last minute, deadpan stare into the lens. His manager would probably murder him for it later considering his track record with Yoongi, but he should have fun sometimes, too, right?
The lighting shifted when the show began. Jungkook settled back into his seat, well aware that Yoongi’s arm was still draped across the back of his chair. He found a way to shuffle his chair closer to Yoongi’s, crossed his ankles, and turned his attention to the show. As far as he knew, this designer had a particular affinity for models like Jungkook.
It showed. Half the male models walking tonight were of similar build; tall, slender—just enough leg, just enough arm. Skinny waists, strong thighs, and a jawline that could cut flesh. Jungkook knew that it was all after him because, well, the designer told him so when Jungkook received the invite.
Jungkook almost didn’t notice when Yoongi’s hand found his thigh again, possessive grip, tips of his fingers digging into his flesh. He laid his hand on top of Yoongi’s, checking his face for a reaction, but that mock interest remained on Yoongi’s face, looking every model up and down, lust drowning his eyes.
Honestly, it was kind of pathetic how affected Jungkook was, when he realized that Yoongi was checking out half the models. He wanted to make a scene out of it right there during the show, but he knew better. Jungkook knew that he could make Yoongi suffer by playing the long game.
So he let Yoongi’s hand massage his thigh, despite the tightness forming in his pants every time his palm drew closer to his crotch. Jungkook focused on the models walking up and down the catwalk, grinning when an acquaintance he was fond of strutted out in the designer’s statement piece. Jimin wore it well.
But Yoongi—Yoongi’s eyes lingered, a few seconds too long on Jimin’s body, and Jungkook sank his fingernails into Yoongi’s wrist at the sight of it.
“You’d fuck anyone who looks good to you, wouldn’t you?” Jungkook asked, right into Yoongi’s ear, head turned just long enough to not raise suspicion. Yoongi’s hand tensed.
“What’s it to you?” Yoongi replied, glancing at Jungkook long enough for his gaze to slip down to Jungkook’s mouth. His mouth pulled into another one of his pretty smiles, the one he used to people please. “You’re the one who loves getting fucked by me.”
Jungkook flung Yoongi’s hand off him, not even bothering to apologize to the woman he elbowed beside him. “Asshole,” he muttered, clenching his jaw as he returned his attention to the runway.
If Yoongi wanted to play dirty like this, then Jungkook could do that too. In fact, he preferred it. Playing fair wasn’t ever enjoyable, not for him, and not for Yoongi. He knew that much.
So he waited it out, even with Yoongi breathing hot against his ear, his neck. His hand never returned to his thigh, but his pinky constantly brushed it, letting his nail catch on Jungkook’s pants. It was bothersome, but Jungkook never budged once to let him know that. His eyes remained forward until the show finished.
Jungkook didn’t have a chance to utter another teasing line to Yoongi after the show ended, because his manager had materialized beside him, dragging him in the opposite direction. When Jungkook looked back for a moment, Yoongi was in a similar position, held hostage by his manager.
“Hyung,” Jungkook whined, grabbing Namjoon to pull him a stop, once they were somewhere with relatively more privacy. The venue was still crawling with people, but they were away from the main event. “I wanna go to the after party.”
Namjoon shot him a warning look. “No,” he said, tone flat, and Jungkook whined incoherently again. This wasn’t fair. “No, you can’t. Jungkook-ah, I am not doing this. Do you remember the last time you went to a fashion week after party? At a show you did not walk at?”
Jungkook opened his mouth, faltered into a pout. He went to an after party last night for the show he walked at, and had a fucking blast with Taehyung at his side. They got so drunk that Jungkook would’ve forgotten about his comeback plan against Yoongi if the man himself wasn’t at the same party.
It was a shame they didn’t get to fuck last night. Yoongi’s manager seems to have a vendetta against Jungkook and made it his mission to keep them apart.
“May I remind you, then?” Namjoon asked, folding one arm over his chest, then took out his cell phone. Jungkook eyed the screen, craning his neck, pout intensifying at the sight of himself—probably about six months ago—drunk and not looking very hot for it. “Want this to happen again? Do you know how many people your parents paid off to keep this out of the media?”
“Good, at least they’re using their money for something useful,” Jungkook mumbled, plucking the phone out of Namjoon’s hand, analyzing the photo more closely. He hardly remembered what event that was at, or why he was looking so drunk and ugly. He’d never do that now. “This—this isn’t going to happen, hyung.”
Namjoon snatched his phone back. “Still no. Get moving,” he commanded, and Jungkook groaned as he started towards the exit again. Namjoon could be such a stickler for the rules, sometimes. He usually lets Jungkook have fun with these things. “I’m not putting up with your bullshit, Jungkook-ah.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook complained again, dragging his feet as he followed Namjoon through a series of hallways, leading him out of a backdoor. “Hyung, why’re you ruining the fun? You know this is the fun part of my job.”
“Because, unfortunately, part of my job is to ruin the fun,” Namjoon said, holding the door open with a sigh. He pushed his glasses up his nose and looked Jungkook in the eyes; Jungkook wasn’t even sure why he bothered to protest when he’d lose anyway. “You can’t have everything you want, you know.”
Jungkook scoffed, but didn’t answer. Everyone knew that Jungkook always got what he wanted.
“Get in the car, Jungkook,” Namjoon said, gesturing at Jungkook to get a move on.
Jungkook groaned again to voice his irritation, but followed his orders to get into the car waiting to take him back to his hotel.
Here was the thing about Namjoon: no matter how good he was at being a manager, he always failed to remember that when Jungkook wanted something, then he would get it. Jungkook knew that as soon as Namjoon went to his own hotel room for the night, that he was being cut loose. Namjoon told him what to do, but controlling Jungkook was damn near impossible.
Jungkook switched up his appearance; applied some darker make-up around his eyes, put on some more revealing clothing—repping the designer, of course—and ordered a car to take him to the after party.
None other than Kim Taehyung awaited his arrival, not without a small entourage of photographers. Jungkook knew that attempting secrecy could be futile at times, that his only chance at fun was in the spotlight. Sometimes front and center was better than not at all.
“Hot. This isn’t what you were wearing when I saw you at the show,” Taehyung said, guiding Jungkook through the paparazzi, bodyguards on either side of them. “I like it though. Suits your body.”
“Thanks. I thought so too,” Jungkook replied with a grin. He just knew that Yoongi was going to say the exact opposite when they got alone together. There was no way he was going back to that hotel room without Yoongi on his arm.
The afterparty was an exclusives-only event, overflowing with only the richest of models—celebrity guests, actors and actresses, the biggest names in music. Min Yoongi or Suga, the asshole, still man of the hour, center of everyone’s attention. A small circle of people surrounded him, clearly trying to get a piece.
Jungkook hung back, at the sight of that. He turned to Taehyung and pointed to the open bar. “I say we start getting drunk,” he said, and Taehyung’s smile said he couldn’t agree more.
So, they got drunk. Jungkook nursed his first glass of champagne for a little over ten minutes, mingling with people he’d met before, mostly other models. It was sort of taboo to approach non-models when you weren’t that popular or famous, but Jungkook chose not to because he was saving his moment for Yoongi.
“You trying to fuck him again tonight?” Taehyung asked, dropping a shot in Jungkook’s hand. He followed Jungkook’s gaze over to Yoongi, still chatting and taking photos with different guests. He looked like a big headed prick, with that people-pleaser smile on his face. “Man, he’s so hot. I would if I could.”
“Back off,” Jungkook snapped, turning to Taehyung before he could catch his error. “Don’t even go near him, hyung. Min Yoongi is off-limits, you know that.”
“You have issues,” Taehyung tapped Jungkook’s still full glass, “and this will fix them.”
Jungkook knew that was bullshit, but he still tipped back his glass, swallowing the liquid. “I want another,” he said, passing the glass to a nearby waiter with a tray. Taehyung disappeared to get them yet another drink.
In Taehyung’s absence, another voice said, “Thanks for coming tonight, Jungkook-ssi,” with a soft brush against his back.
Jungkook turned his head to meet the gaze of Jung Hoseok, the man behind each of the pieces seen on the runway tonight. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he replied honestly. Hoseok was one of the only designers Jungkook respected and enjoyed working with; he always treated his models with respect, no matter how subjective he was in choosing them. “I enjoyed it. I appreciate your gift.”
“You’re wearing it well,” Hoseok said, his index finger touching Jungkook’s exposed collarbone, smile unwavering. “I knew it’d look wonderful on you. Some pieces are just—the model wearing it truly lets it shine, don’t you think?”
“I agree,” Jungkook murmured, a bit absently as his eyes locked with Yoongi’s for a brief moment. He could see it, the flash of confusion in his eyes when he noticed how Hoseok was touching him.
That was good. Jungkook could absolutely use that to his advantage.
“Jung Hoseok-nim, may I be so bold to ask why you decided to invite Min Yoongi?” Jungkook asked, averting his eyes back to Hoseok, laying his hand on Hoseok’s shoulder, accepting the drink Taehyung slid over, before disappearing out the corner of Jungkook’s eye. “I’m just curious. This doesn’t really seem like his scene, does it?”
“It isn’t his scene, but I can’t deny that a star like him wouldn’t draw in some extra views,” Hoseok answered, his gaze mildly disinterested in Jungkook’s display, but that didn’t really matter. As long as this affected Yoongi, then Jungkook was doing it right. “Plus, he’s nice on the eyes, no? His outfit is custom-made.”
Jungkook smiled through his brain saying, what a dick, in response.
“But then again, so is yours,” Hoseok continued, and did a short scan around the room. His gaze settled in the distance, and Jungkook followed it, curious to know the object of his affections. Jimin, of course; Jungkook should have known. “I… need to continue playing host. Enjoy yourself Jeon Jungkook-ssi. I hope to work with you more back in Korea.”
“Likewise,” Jungkook said, lifting his glass in a toast as Hoseok walked away, finishing his drink with a smile.
Now Yoongi was alone, which meant Jungkook had all his attention. It proved to be true, with the way Yoongi’s eyes slid down the shape of Jungkook’s body, loosely gripping his glass, tongue darting out to lick his lips. Those sharp, angular eyes landed on Jungkook’s face again, gesturing to the space behind him.
Jungkook got another drink before heading over to him. He took his time, smiled at some colleagues, and paused to take some photos. He didn’t even need to look at Yoongi to know he was rolling his eyes.
He reached Yoongi after dragging out an extra five minutes, letting himself get lead into a deserted area behind parted black curtains, probably where staff exited and entered the party.
But Yoongi used it as a private place, away from prying eyes, to pin Jungkook against the wall by his shoulders. “What’re you doing?” he asked, and Jungkook tried to reach out, but Yoongi’s hands slid down to hold his wrists in place, a dark, stern look in his eyes. “Huh, Jungkook? Playing some fucking game?”
“You’re not having fun?” Jungkook pouted, arching his body to press closer to Yoongi’s. The alcohol might’ve been getting to his head now. “Didn’t realize you started acting like such a prude, hyung.”
In a blink of an eye, Yoongi’s hand was pulling Jungkook’s hair back, his other hand catching Jungkook’s cheeks. “Stop being such a brat, Jungkook-ah,” he said between his teeth, stepping close with his alcohol breath tickling Jungkook’s nose. “You should know by now that bratty boys don’t get what they want.”
Jungkook’s stomach flipped. He hated when Yoongi talked like that, pushing him towards a mentality he only liked to accept in the safety between four walls and someone he trusted. Right here, right now, wasn’t a place Jungkook wanted to succumb to his own desires.
“Hyung—”
“Shut up. I’m thinking.”
Jungkook’s voice died down, lips falling into a pout, waiting for Yoongi to loosen his hold. It came slowly, easing the grip on his face first, then releasing his hair. Yoongi stood there, readjusting the strands of Jungkook’s hair, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear. That delicate touch drove Jungkook to the brink of insanity.
Somewhere, deep down, he wished that delicacy was how Yoongi treated him all of the time, but he tried not to think of that right now.
“What do you want?” Yoongi asked, point-blank, which was what he always did.
Still, Jungkook found himself stammering for an answer. He knew what he wanted, but—but Yoongi always made it difficult to actually express it.
“We don’t have all fucking night,” Yoongi said with less vigor, sighing. He stepped closer, finally, his body connecting with Jungkook’s, fitting into his arms. “Come on, doll, just tell hyung what you want.”
Jungkook leaned forward, kissing Yoongi on the lips. He groaned into it, bringing Yoongi closer despite how impossible it was. They were already glued together, hands roaming, Yoongi’s wide palm resting on the small of Jungkook’s back. Yoongi braced his free hand on the wall, then cupped the side of Jungkook’s face.
“I want to fuck,” Jungkook whispered into Yoongi’s ear, mouthing along his neck, towards his exposed clavicle. He feared making marks could cause a scene, which Jungkook wanted, but not quite in this way. “Come back to my hotel with me.”
“Are you that desperate?” Yoongi breathed, a broken, almost-moan falling past his lips. Jungkook captured his lips again, savored the soft, sweet feeling of his lips, the taste of whiskey as their tongues briefly met. Yoongi sighed. “Go outside. Wait for me.”
Jungkook pushed Yoongi away from him and brushed himself off, tugging at Yoongi’s belt buckle. “I don’t like taking orders,” he murmured, although the only people he’d gladly accept orders from were Namjoon and, well, Yoongi. But not even Yoongi knew that, and Jungkook wasn’t about to tell him. “Say it nicely.”
Just by the eye roll, Jungkook could tell he was really pushing Yoongi’s limits. “Just go,” he muttered, pushing Jungkook along by the shoulder. Jungkook took a couple steps in the direction of the curtain, glancing back at Yoongi, who gestured to the party. “I have to make sure my manager isn’t on my ass.”
“You’re being so stuck-up tonight,” Jungkook commented, taking out his phone to truly make sure his appearance looked presentable. There were a few stray hairs left unkempt, but it seemed that Yoongi fixed everything else perfectly. “You need the address or are you coming with me?”
“Just give me five minutes,” Yoongi said as he walked past Jungkook, reentering the party without so much as a glance over his shoulder.
Jungkook gave himself a minute to recuperate, to let his body relax, before he went back out to the party. He snuck through the crowd, eyes glued to Yoongi until he reached the exit. Just like before, a few other guests captured Yoongi’s attention, but there was more… urgency in his demeanor. Jungkook could tell, just by the way his perfect smile wavered for a moment, the tense grip on his drink, his rigid stance.
It took under five minutes for Yoongi to join him outside, at the taxi Jungkook flagged down for them to take to his hotel.
Not even a second after they got in the backseat, Yoongi’s hands were all over him, touching his chest, the back of his neck, between his thighs. The taxi driver didn’t even bat an eyelash at the sight of it, setting off for Jungkook’s hotel. Which could be good, or it could be bad, especially if he recognized one or both of them. Hopefully the driver would continue to disregard them.
“Jeez, what the fuck is this shirt?” Yoongi asked, bringing the sheer fabric between his fingers, as he pushed his other hand up Jungkook’s chest. “I hate it.”
“Thanks. I figured you’d get fucked up over it,” Jungkook replied, shifting his body so one leg was thrown over Yoongi’s knee, leaning close to his neck, pressing his nose into it. Always smelled a bit manly, a bit citrusy. Jungkook loved it, was addicted to it, to Yoongi. “You shouldn’t have shown up yesterday. Was a dick move, throwing me off when I’m working.”
Yoongi’s fingers traveled down Jungkook’s face, tugging on the waistband of his pants. The smirk on his face was cocky; it made Jungkook’s blood pressure rise. He really was acting more like a dick than usual tonight. “Just wanted to return the favor for once,” he replied, right hand briefly moving lower to squeeze Jungkook’s ass. “You’re always doing it to me, so what’s the difference?”
“I fucking hate you,” Jungkook muttered as he tugged Yoongi into a kiss.
They kissed dirty; with spit and intrusive hands and all the fucking tongue in the world. Yoongi had a problem where he could never keep his hands to himself, skimming the skin beneath Jungkook’s shirt, trying to undress him right there in the taxi. But Jungkook couldn’t let him have it so easily, not so openly.
Yoongi drew him in though. It was tempting. To give himself up to Yoongi, to let him have his way so early in the night. Jungkook wasn’t used to holding out so long, but he wanted to prove a point. Show Yoongi that he wasn’t so desperate, even if he really was.
Jungkook paid the driver when they got to the hotel, and pulled away from Yoongi long enough to slip through a side entrance undetected. Strategic movement, that’s what it was. There was no fun in the attention if it didn’t even seem like he wanted to be discreet. Yoongi hated the attention, but clearly something about Jungkook kept him coming.
“Where’s your manager, by the way?” Yoongi asked, as Jungkook slid his hand down the front of Yoongi’s chest, popping open a button of his shirt, fiddling with the next as the elevator took them up. “Hm?”
“Sleeping, I hope. Stop talking about my manager, you’re ruining the mood,” Jungkook replied, taking Yoongi by the hand to drag him down the hallway, heart racing as he passed Namjoon’s hotel room. Luckily they were still quite a few doors down from each other, which meant he couldn’t hear if Jungkook was getting up to something.
The electricity between them died down as Jungkook opened the hotel door, letting Yoongi in before him. The room was dark, the way Jungkook left it, so he turned on a few lights, pulling off his jacket to lay across the arm of the couch. Yoongi immediately went to snoop around the mini bar, joining Jungkook at the couch with a tiny bottle of alcohol for each of them.
“My hotel room is bigger,” Yoongi said as he sat down, and Jungkook rolled his eyes, because he didn’t really care. He just wanted to be alone with Yoongi. Where exactly that happened had never mattered. “This is still nice, though.”
“Of course it is. I don’t settle,” Jungkook said as he snatched one of the bottles, swallowing down whatever was inside. He didn’t even pay attention to what it was, he just needed some fuel to get his hands on Yoongi again. Or Yoongi’s hands on him—he didn’t have a preference at this point.
Yoongi grinned, wide and arrogant. “Of course you don’t,” he murmured, right into Jungkook’s ear. “You’re with me, so obviously you aren’t settling.”
Jungkook shivered. He peered at Yoongi’s face through his eyelashes, meeting the intensity of his lustful gaze. God, he felt so wanted. Needed, even. Being looked at like that—that’s what Jungkook was aiming for since he arrived at the show earlier in the night. Finally he’s getting it.
“That has nothing to do with you,” Jungkook said, a lie, and both he and Yoongi knew it. But if they pretended it didn’t have everything to do with who Yoongi was, then maybe it wouldn’t be true.
“Mhm,” Yoongi hummed, trailing his finger down Jungkook’s bare arm. “Saw you chatting with Hoseok tonight. You know he and I are friends, right?”
Jungkook arched his eyebrow. “Like I care who you’re friends with,” he said, pressing his hand to the inside of Yoongi’s thigh. He could feel the growing outline of his cock. “You know he fucked me a while back. A lot harder and faster than you did.”
“Unlikely.” Yoongi finished his drink, sliding his tongue over his lips as he looked over Jungkook’s body, not for the first time tonight, almost hungrily. “I would have known. Plus, he’s got more interest in your friend, ah, Jimin.”
“Which, by the fucking way, also such a dick move for you to look at just about every single model tonight, as if you didn’t know you’d come fuck me at the end of the night,” Jungkook replied, straddling Yoongi’s lap, pressing their hips firmly together. He noticed the subtle shift of Yoongi’s clenched jaw. “You’re taking an awful amount of time to do so, hyung.”
Yoongi’s eyes glittered with something; amusement, arousal—Jungkook couldn’t quite figure out what it was. “I don’t know why you bother calling me hyung when you don’t respect me,” he said, hands assuming the same position as in the taxi, flush against Jungkook’s ass, supporting his weight.
Jungkook laid his hands on Yoongi’s shoulders. “Respect has to be mutual, hyung,” Jungkook replied, mocking him with the honorific. He wasn’t quite sure why he called Yoongi as his hyung either, when clearly Yoongi only carried a sliver of respect for him back. “Would you rather me call you Yoongi-yah?”
“You could call me Suga like everyone else does,” Yoongi muttered, tipping his chin back to maintain his eye contact with Jungkook.
“Hm, no thanks.” Jungkook moved his hand to sit around Yoongi’s neck, resting it there. “You don’t normally take this long.”
“I’m enjoying drawing this out,” Yoongi said, although his fingers shifted to the hem of Jungkook’s shirt, lifting it up and off his body. That was something, at least. Jungkook was about to start whining to get Yoongi to comply. “Aren’t I lucky, huh? You always come back to me.”
“You always come back to me,” Jungkook retorted, shifting his hand further up to Yoongi’s chin, bringing their lips close, barely brushing. It was like edging himself, not initiating a kiss when they got this close. Something about having self-restraint around Yoongi fueled Jungkook’s ego. “After all, I was famous first.”
Yoongi’s hands were busy exploring the newly exposed skin on Jungkook’s chest, the definition of his muscles, all while his eyes were focused on Jungkook’s face. “Is that how it works?” he asked, breathless, and Jungkook let himself smile, knowing he achieved getting on Yoongi’s nerves tonight. “Why are you so hot, fuck?”
At the admittance, Jungkook kissed Yoongi; this time it was slower, no less sensual, licking his way into Yoongi’s mouth. He knew that Yoongi couldn’t resist once he got a certain amount of him, and they were inching closer to the point. Maybe if Jungkook offered up his neck then Yoongi would get a fucking move on.
“You really should take this off,” Jungkook whispered, pushing off the jacket still over Yoongi’s shoulders, watching it slide off his arms, bunched up behind him. “Isn’t it getting hot in here?”
“You’re making it hard not to put you in your place, doll,” Yoongi said slowly, tight grip returning to Jungkook’s waist, gaze intensifying, heat spreading through every inch of his body. “I don’t like when you’re mouthy, you know that.”
Jungkook pressed his hips forward, eliciting a breathy moan from Yoongi, embracing the feeling of Yoongi’s fingernails digging into his skin. “Well, what’s stopping you?” he asked, kissing Yoongi’s neck. He bit and sucked, just enough for a small hickey to bloom on his shining pale skin.
In a second, though, Yoongi pushed Jungkook off. He fell away as gracefully as possible, sliding off Yoongi’s lap, looking up at him. “Get up,” Yoongi instructed, grasping Jungkook by the wrist, yanking him to his feet. Jungkook nearly tripped over himself, stumbling as he fell towards the bed, sheets against his back.
Yoongi hovered over Jungkook, fingers sliding down the front of his own chest, unbuttoning his shirt. He pulled it off slowly, made a show of it, until Jungkook reached out and pulled Yoongi down by the back of his neck. At this rate, he was taking way too fucking long, and Jungkook didn’t have a lot of patience left.
“What did I say? So desperate...” Yoongi whispered, threading his fingers into Jungkook’s hair, pulling his head back enough to press his lips against his neck. Jungkook’s body shook at the feeling, hands on Yoongi’s shoulder blades, couldn’t help but whimper when Yoongi nipped his skin.
“Stop,” Jungkook whined, trying to shift them further up the mattress, a poor attempt of dragging Yoongi with him. “You know I’m sensitive there.”
Yoongi’s hands slid down Jungkook’s chest, lifting him long enough to throw him towards the headboard. Jungkook landed with a huff, but his complaint was cut short by Yoongi fitting their lips together again. He liked the game they were playing, sure, but this was getting fucking annoying. All he wanted was Yoongi inside him, was that so much to ask?
Jungkook shifted his hands down Yoongi’s back, reaching down for a grasp on his ass. Which definitely caught Yoongi off-guard, long enough for Jungkook to use momentum and roll them over. He wasted no time in kissing down the center of Yoongi’s chest, towards his waistband. If Yoongi wasn’t going to play fair, then Jungkook was going to make him cave.
“Did you miss my mouth, hyung?” Jungkook asked, removing the buckle of Yoongi’s belt, slowly sliding it off. He let the leather gently slap against Yoongi’s bare stomach, where his skin was coloring rosy, soft pink—the way it did when he got turned on. Clearly Jungkook was doing something good here.
Yoongi didn’t answer, but Jungkook didn’t mind. He could monologue this. He could take Yoongi apart with just his words and a few actions, that’s all. They had been doing this long enough that Jungkook knew what made Yoongi tick, what got him to break, which body parts were most sensitive.
“You did, didn’t you?” Jungkook asked, sliding Yoongi’s pants down his thighs, letting Yoongi do the hard work of kicking them off. Yoongi ran his hand over his face, chuckling quietly, as if questioning what exactly he got himself into. “Unsurprising. Judging by your new album, you think about me and my mouth a lot more than you’d care to admit.”
“That could be about anyone,” Yoongi said, leaning up on his elbow, eyes trailing down the front of Jungkook’s chest.
Jungkook raised an eyebrow as he undid his own pants, the loose fabric falling to his ankles. It was much better like this anyway. When they could both see each other, exposed skin, bodies touching. They could lose themselves in it, trying to ignore the underlying pull, the draw they constantly had towards each other.
“But it wasn’t,” Jungkook finally said, crawling up the bed, between Yoongi’s legs. It was obvious, maybe a bit pathetic in Jungkook’s opinion, how hard Yoongi was, and he wanted nothing more than to do something about it. “You know they weren’t about anyone else. I mean, who else gave you head in New York, huh?”
“Maybe someone else did.” Yoongi said, soon replaced by a groan as Jungkook pressed a hand down on his cock. “Fuck, Jungkook.”
“You’re predictable.” Jungkook readjusted himself on his knees, spreading Yoongi’s legs wider. Sometimes it was almost demeaning to assume this position; to let himself be the one who did all the work, but he knew—he knew that Yoongi would be doing all the work later. “Are you going to admit it?”
“Admit what?” Yoongi asked, playing dumb.
Jungkook pressed his nose to the center of Yoongi’s chest, then dragged the tip of his tongue all the way down his navel. “Admit that you’re here because you missed me,” he pushed, pressing a first kiss to Yoongi’s waist band.
“Fuck no.”
Despite that answer, Jungkook went lower and mouthed over Yoongi’s briefs, along the shape of his cock. Yoongi’s legs twitched, tried to close around Jungkook’s head, but Jungkook didn’t let him. “Wrong answer,” Jungkook breathed, slipping his fingers past Yoongi’s waistband. He wouldn’t give Yoongi exactly what he wanted until he heard the truth.
Yoongi rolled his eyes and cushioned an arm behind his head, slightly propped against the headboard. “No,” he repeated, like the smug son of a bitch he was.
“No?” Jungkook asked, just to be sure, as he pulled away the last piece of clothing on Yoongi’s body. He didn’t even hesitate, circling one hand around the base of Yoongi’s cock, stroking the side. Anyone who had sex with Yoongi would know how terrible he is at hiding the effects certain actions had on his body.
“No,” Yoongi said, edging on broken. Jungkook opened his mouth, stuck out his tongue, and watched a trail of spit land on the head of Yoongi’s cock. “You’re a fucking tease, you know that?”
Jungkook smiled; he took that as a compliment at this rate. “Thank you, Suga,” he said, guiding Yoongi’s cock into his mouth, sinking as far deep as he could go. Yoongi was just long enough for him to knock the back of Jungkook’s throat, but the burn was good. Familiar, even.
It didn’t take long for Yoongi to cave. “Fuck. I did, okay? I fucking missed you,” he groaned, one hand lazily grabbing at the back of Jungkook’s head to push him further. Which Jungkook would welcome any other night, but he’d been wanting Yoongi to fuck him since yesterday, so he wasn’t going to waste time giving head.
“I was waiting for that,” Jungkook said after lifting his head, wiping the dribble off his chin, meeting Yoongi’s annoyed gaze. “You’re weak, hyung. You love to act all ‘tough guy’ but you’re just as needy as anyone else.”
“Who’re you calling needy, huh?” As Jungkook came level with Yoongi’s face, Yoongi’s hand gripped his cheeks, not unlike earlier. Yoongi laughed, flicking aside Jungkook’s hair as he watched for something—Jungkook didn’t know what. “Do you not remember how you were all over me?”
Jungkook rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t respond with the grip Yoongi had on him. Just know that if he could talk, then he’d comment about all the times Yoongi was all over him.
Yoongi released Jungkook’s cheeks, open palms finding his back, rolling them over once more. “If you fucked Hosoek like you said you did, then why didn’t you go to him tonight?” he asked, even though they already discussed the obvious answer. Hoseok had his sights set on Jimin. “You came to me.”
“I did fuck him,” Jungkook muttered, which wasn’t a lie. It was a while ago, maybe a year at best, where he and Hoseok had a little weekend escapade in Jeju and fucked at least twice. But Jungkook did lie about how he was better in bed, because quite frankly, Yoongi ruined everyone else for him.
That was the true reason he kept coming back to Yoongi. Because he ruined everyone for Jungkook, any chance of a good fuck, or even a simple blowjob or makeout. In all departments except for one, Yoongi was the best. He did everything Jungkook loved, and he couldn’t get enough of it.
“You’re still here,” Yoongi said with a shrug, a mocking grin. “And I know what that means when it comes to you. It means you want me. Only me.”
“No I don’t,” Jungkook lied.
“Shut up. Don’t fucking lie to me,” Yoongi said, lowering his mouth to kiss over Jungkook’s collarbone, towards the center of his exposed chest. “I’ve fucked you enough times to know what you want.”
Jungkook arched his body into Yoongi, aiming to gain some friction for his achingly hard cock, breath stuttering when he momentarily found it. Of course Yoongi had to stop him immediately, a snarl on his lips, practically ripping Jungkook’s briefs off his legs. His dark, unwavering gaze landed on Jungkook’s fully exposed body.
That was the Yoongi who would fuck Jungkook within every inch of his life.
“Suitcase,” Jungkook said, turning his head towards his suitcase lying in the corner, unzipped and open, packets of lube and unused condoms very deliberately placed there.
Yoongi, surprisingly, didn’t utter a word about that as he briefly climbed off the bed to grab both items. “If I didn’t know you were so impatient to get fucked, I’d maybe start by eating you out,” he muttered, pushing Jungkook’s knees apart enough to sit between them. “Next time, then?”
Jungkook shut his eyes and said, “Yeah. Next time.”
As much as he hated it, he knew what an expert Yoongi could be with his tongue. He was already banking on next time coming around when they were both back in Seoul after fashion week, but Jungkook never knew with their unpredictable schedules.
Instead, Yoongi started with a finger. He began with his thumb rubbing lightly against Jungkook’s perineum, then dipping lower to his hole, not quite pushing it in yet. Jungkook shifted up onto his elbows, smiled a little at the concentration on his face. Yoongi could always get a little consumed by the moment.
“Aren’t you the one wh-who—” Jungkook cuts himself short with a breath, leaning his head back when Yoongi unexpectedly pressed the tip of his thumb inside him.
“I was under the impression that you were going to beg for it,” Yoongi said with a grin, and Jungkook couldn’t help but roll his eyes again in response. “Do I have to coax that out of you?”
Jungkook let his chest heave, thighs tensing as Yoongi gradually sunk his finger deeper. He kept his lips pinched between his teeth, afraid that if he opened his mouth to respond, he’d only give Yoongi that satisfaction. And while Jungkook knew that they both wanted to have sex sooner than later, he also wanted it to be on his terms—not Yoongi’s.
“You can’t say you’re satisfied with this,” Yoongi continued, voice growing thicker—drunker—by the second. His thumb continued to rest snugly inside Jungkook. “One finger and you’re not begging for two yet? Damn, what am I doing wrong tonight?”
Jungkook opened his mouth long enough to spit, “More.”
Yoongi complied, slid his thumb out and replaced it with the tips of his index and middle finger. Jungkook fell back against the mattress, head resting on a pillow, breathing out a sigh at the feeling. It wasn’t the vigorous way Yoongi could loosen him up sometimes, but it was pleasant, somehow. Jungkook might’ve even said comfortable.
“You look so gorgeous like this,” Yoongi breathed, eyes roaming Jungkook’s entire body, settling on his face. Not good, not hot—gorgeous. Jungkook clenched around Yoongi’s fingers, heart pounding against the inside of his chest. “You like that? When I call you names like pretty and gorgeous and doll?”
Jungkook gasped, arched his back off the bed, as Yoongi’s fingers pressed deeper and deeper to accentuate the point of each word. Doll. That one drove Jungkook mad. He would hate it from anyone else, but from Yoongi—from Yoongi, he couldn’t get enough of it. It made him feel so needed.
“That’s what I thought, baby,” Yoongi muttered, still wearing a half-present smirk, pumping his fingers in and out of Jungkook’s hole at an uncomfortably slow speed. “Don’t have anything to say?”
“I—”
Yoongi shoved a third finger inside, and that stretch, it burned, but Jungkook took it with an overwhelmed moan. “Busy?” he asked, and Jungkook could only whine in response, opening his knees wider for Yoongi. “You’re so good for me. Bratty as hell, but it’s all fucking talk. As soon as I do something, you’re at my mercy.”
Something in Jungkook didn’t even want to deny it, but he still opened his mouth and replied, “Because I know it gets me fucked, so are you sure it’s me who’s at your mercy, Suga?”
The look on Yoongi’s face darkened. It was a joke earlier, when Yoongi said to call him Suga, because Jungkook knew how it truly got on his nerves more than anything. Jungkook called Yoongi that in bed once before, and it riled him up enough to fuck him harder than ever.
Yoongi didn’t answer and instead threw Jungkook’s legs open as far as they could go. He took Jungkook by the hips, lifting them, sliding a pillow beneath them. The cushion felt soft beneath Jungkook’s ass, the action done with care.
Jungkook’s heart stuttered, pathetically, then he buried the feeling by lifting his hands and teasing his own nipples for a moment. At least he could hide that the slight precum dripping out of his cock was because of that, and not Yoongi.
“Patience, doll, I’ll fuck you in a minute,” Yoongi said, reaching to the floor for something. Jungkook slid his hands back to his sides, peering curiously at Yoongi as he looked through the pockets of his pants. “Damn, where the fuck is my phone?”
Jungkook ran his fingers through his hair. “Jacket?” he suggested, tilting his head towards the couch. “It was kind of heavier than a jacket should be.”
“One sec,” Yoongi murmured, climbing off the bed a second time. Jungkook sighed, watched as Yoongi sifted through the various pieces of clothing between the bed and the couch, finally producing his and Jungkook’s phone. “Can I use yours too?”
“For what?” Jungkook asked, still confused. He thought Yoongi was only looking for his phone to text his manager or something.
Yoongi looked at Jungkook like he was a fucking idiot. “I want audio and video,” he said, as if it was obvious.
For the first time tonight, Jungkook blushed. There was no fucking way that Yoongi was being serious right now.
“You want to record us?” Jungkook asked, just for clarification. Something about that thought made him dizzy. “That’s how shit gets leaked, don’t you know that? Are you trying to self-sabotage your own fame?”
“God, it’ll be fine. Come over when we’re back in Seoul and I’ll put them both on one of my hard drives,” Yoongi said, then waved Jungkook’s phone in the air. “So can I use it?”
Jungkook only needed a moment to think about it. “Yes,” he said, and watched as Yoongi set up Jungkook’s phone on the TV stand across the bed to take a video. Yoongi’s phone was positioned on the bed, just near Jungkook’s face, recording audio.
There was something thrilling about this. Jungkook peered up at Yoongi when he climbed back over him, ripping open the condom wrapper with his teeth, sliding it over himself. Jungkook’s heart rate was probably ten beats faster already, just at the thought of them fucking on camera.
“Fuck, so-some warning—ah—next time,” Jungkook stuttered out, when Yoongi finally got around to pushing his cock into him. The intrusion was warm, hot; the slight pulsing of Yoongi’s cock inside him was almost comforting. Jungkook clenched around the feeling.
“You’re still tight, shit,” Yoongi moaned, strands of his long, dark hair framing his face, curled at the ends. Jungkook momentarily tensed his fingers into the sheets, then forced himself to relax enough for Yoongi to pull out and slam back in.
It took a minute for Yoongi to build up momentum, fingers holding Jungkook’s waist so tight that it was bound to bruise. Jungkook’s sounds were pathetic, at best, whimpering every time Yoongi’s hips slapped against his ass, moaning if the tip of Yoongi’s cock touched his prostate.
That wasn’t enough, though. Jungkook couldn’t come if Yoongi only fucked him, and Yoongi should know that.
So Jungkook took matters into his own hands, literally, dragging Yoongi down by his hair, kissing him hungrily. Yoongi eased up his pace; slowed it down, turned them shallow and frequent. Each time his cock pressed deeper into Jungkook, a small, helpless gasp punched out of him.
“So desperate,” Yoongi said into Jungkook’s open mouth, almost laughing at the whine Jungkook let out in response. “You can’t hide that when I’m inside you, doll.”
“Hyu-hyung,” Jungkook whispered between them, raking his fingernails down Yoongi’s back, feeling as desperate as Yoongi kept saying he was. “Please.”
“Please what?” Yoongi asked, as if he didn’t know what Jungkook wanted. God, he was so irritating, even when they were tangled up like this in bed together. Jungkook gasped, choked out another long moan. “You sound so good. Like the good bratty boy you are, huh?”
Jungkook threw one arm around his eyes, embarrassment burning low in his stomach, cock twitching between their bodies. “Love this,” he mumbled, between the breaths falling out of his mouth, between the kisses he exchanged with Yoongi.
Yoongi grinned, half-cocky and half-loving. “You know you’re mine right?” he asked, with a harsh thrust of his hips, and Jungkook’s body shook with a moan.
“Yours,” Jungkook repeated, dazed, staring into Yoongi’s eyes.
“Who do you belong to?” Yoongi asked, unrelenting pace, unwavering eye contact. “Say my name, doll.”
Jungkook gasped, sharp, those words unexpected from someone like Yoongi. “Min Yoongi,” he still breathed out, eyes fluttering, grasping for something nonexistent on Yoongi’s back.
“That’s right, baby,” Yoongi whispered into Jungkook’s ear, nipping at his earlobe. Jungkook couldn’t think, could barely remind himself to breathe. “Only I get to touch you like this, isn’t that right?”
God, it was so right. Jungkook would be lying if he said he slept with anyone else in the past year. He couldn’t bring himself to do it, not when Yoongi was the only one who could drive him to the brink of insanity with just his cock inside of him. Jungkook truly only let Yoongi touch him like this.
“Yes,” Jungkook mumbled, catching Yoongi’s bottom lip between his teeth, hiking his legs up around Yoongi’s waist to switch up the angle. “Please, fuck me harder hyung.”
“Harder?” Yoongi asked, and went harder immediately—he was so willing for Jungkook.
Jungkook sucked on Yoongi’s mouth, one hand sliding between their bodies to grasp at his untouched cock. Yoongi hadn’t even laid a finger on it yet. “I wanna—unh—wanna come,” he whined, sliding his fist down his length, meanwhile his tongue was touching the perfect ridges of Yoongi’s teeth.
“Me too,” Yoongi grunted, sliding his hands down to Jungkook’s ass, squeezing it between his fingers before lifting him higher. The angle made Jungkook twitch and moan, halting the hand wrapped around his cock. “But you first, right baby?”
“Better be—shit, oh my god.” Jungkook’s ass pressed against Yoongi’s hips, mind floating elsewhere as Yoongi wrapped his hand around his cock, stroking it in time to his thrusts. “Hyung, please.”
Yoongi smiled again, kissing Jungkook’s jaw, soft lips gliding along his skin. “That’s it,” he whispered, urging Jungkook closer to the edge. “Be a good boy, a good doll. Come for hyung.”
“Fuck,” Jungkook breathed, nails piercing the skin on Yoongi’s back, come landing all messy and warm on his stomach.
Even once he came, Yoongi didn’t stop, chasing his own release, fucking Jungkook into overstimulation in the process. Jungkook shielded his eyes with his arm once more, didn’t bother saying anything, clenched tight around Yoongi’s final push, warmth filling his hole, even with the condom separating their skin.
Yoongi let out a few heavy breaths and paused the audio recording, placing his phone on the nightstand without pulling out. Jungkook reached out, tucking the loose pieces of Yoongi’s hair behind his ear, letting his legs slide off from around him. The quiet calmness after sex with Yoongi never failed to put Jungkook at ease. It was never a race to be alone again.
“Do you want to shower?” Yoongi asked, gently holding Jungkook’s waist as he eased out of Jungkook, leaving him cold and clenching around nothing. “You want to eat something too? I’m sure something’s open at this time.”
“Please. I’m so hungry,” Jungkook replied, accepting Yoongi’s extended hand to pull himself off the bed. He grabbed his phone from the TV stand, shutting the recording, scrolling through the video preview. At least the angle doesn’t really show either of their faces, unless it’s the beginning or end.
Yoongi took Jungkook by the wrist, pulling him towards the bathroom, strewn with some of Jungkook’s clothes and make-up. He placed his phone on the counter, watching as Yoongi turned on the water and prepared towels for them to use afterwards.
They didn’t talk about it.
It was sort of an unspoken rule between them. Anything that was said during sex—they didn’t talk about it afterwards, not even a simple joke. Even though Jungkook could only think of Yoongi; his possessive words, the way he effortlessly continued to pound into Jungkook. He got this feeling that Yoongi maybe meant it, but…
They didn’t talk about it. That was the rule.
Jungkook slipped into the shower behind Yoongi, immediately curling into his arms. They weren’t together, weren’t dating—never were—but somehow, he still felt like he did belong to Yoongi in some way. It was maddening, more than being called gorgeous or doll, more than Yoongi fucking him mercilessly. That feeling of being needed.
“Hm,” Yoongi hummed, sliding his hand down Jungkook’s back with a bar of soap, gently cleaning his hole, between his legs, the dried come on his chest. “Baby’s sleepy now, I guess. Do you still want to eat?”
Even with the water pelting the top of Jungkook’s head, he nuzzled into Yoongi’s neck. “I want food,” he muttered, because with all that foreplay, he definitely needed to be fed. “Something good. Like steak. Or a burger.”
“Is there room service here?” Yoongi asked, switching positions, adjusting Jungkook’s head in order to massage shampoo into his hair. “Maybe we can get some of that. I’ll stay until morning, if you don’t mind. I don’t think Seokjin-hyung saw you at the after party, so he probably thinks I fucked someone else.”
“Is the fact that it’s me so bad?” Jungkook murmured, because he had trouble understanding why Yoongi always made a point to keep their meetings a secret. He, personally, had no issue telling Namjoon what he was up to afterwards. Well, he only volunteered the information if Namjoon asked.
Yoongi tipped Jungkook’s head back, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair. “You know he fucking hates you right? Whenever your name is in the news, it’s not usually for something good.”
“Neither is yours.”
“I’ve had, what, two scandals?” Yoongi scoffed. “That’s nothing.”
Jungkook elbowed Yoongi away from him, continuing to clean himself. “One of which said you got caught leaving a club with some girls.”
“Okay, and?” Yoongi rolled his eyes, starting with washing his hair. Jungkook was already almost finished with the conditioner. “That wasn’t even true. You already fucking know I was at your place that night.”
“I don’t know, hyung. You didn’t tell me where you were coming from when you showed up drunk,” Jungkook said, switching spots with him again to wash out the rest of his hair.
Yoongi grunted, but didn’t answer. Jungkook lingered a few seconds longer, then climbed out to leave Yoongi to finish showering alone. He took one of the towels Yoongi set out for them, and his phone, drying himself off as he walked back into the hotel room, towards his suitcase. After checking his messages, and finding only one from Namjoon, he got dressed in pajamas.
“Can I borrow something?” Yoongi asked, picking up his designer clothes from the floor, tossing them into a pile on the couch. Jungkook stared at it with a wrinkled nose, could never understand Yoongi’s messiness, but still fetched clean underwear, and a t-shirt and shorts. “Thanks. Why are you looking at me like I just offended you?”
“Because,” Jungkook grumbled, snatching the pile of Yoongi’s clothes on the couch, folding it along the natural creases, “you’re in my hotel room, so at least try to be neat.”
At the same time, Yoongi dropped his towel to the floor, leaving it there once he got dressed in Jungkook’s clothes. He simply went back to the bathroom to dry his hair, leaving Jungkook to grumble and fume over the added mess. Yoongi could truly be irritating sometimes.
Once he cleaned up, Jungkook ordered food to the hotel from a restaurant nearby that was still open at this hour, then joined Yoongi in the bathroom to dry his hair too.
Sometimes he got caught off-guard by Yoongi’s beauty. How he looked so kind, in spite of his intimidating eyes, the constant furrow of his brow. Yoongi still had the roundest, smallest nose—lips that were soft and perfect, especially pressed light against Jungkook’s skin. When he didn’t act like a cocky asshole, sometimes Jungkook was a little in love with him.
“Do my hair,” Jungkook said, once Yoongi finished drying his hair, the soft strands sitting messily atop his head. Another factor to this tender, kinder version of him. It only came out after sex, and even then, it only lasted an hour or two at best. Jungkook took what he could get.
Yoongi hesitated to comply, but Jungkook stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, and he caved almost immediately.
“Come here. Sit,” Yoongi commanded, hand placed on Jungkook’s bicep, guiding him to sit down on the closed toilet lid. Jungkook tilted his head upside down, and Yoongi switched on the hair dryer.
Yoongi worked quietly, running product through Jungkook’s hair, the heat of the hair dryer tickling the back of Jungkook’s neck. But his hand was gentle, moving aside sections of Jungkook’s head, drying in evenly. His fingers moved with ease, scratching Jungkook’s scalp, shaking the roots.
Jungkook’s heart raced. He thought it was kind of insane that he could get more worked up about Yoongi drying his hair than having sex with him.
“All done,” Yoongi said, voice quiet and steady, hands tipping Jungkook’s back up towards him. He smiled, and something was in his eyes, a bit of sweetness, a bit of mischief. Something in-between that was just so Yoongi. Jungkook didn’t understand.
Jungkook glanced at himself in the mirror, touching his hair, pushing it out of his face. “I, uh, I ordered food,” he mumbled, as Yoongi’s knuckles brushed his cheek, dragged along his jawline. “Seemed like fast food. Burgers.”
“That’s okay,” Yoongi said, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Jungkook watched the movement; he quite liked the corners of Yoongi’s mouth. “You look sleepy, baby.”
“Tuck me in?” Jungkook asked, laughing as Yoongi scoffed, still caressing Jungkook’s cheek like it was something he was born to do.
Yoongi leaned down and pressed their lips together, short and sweet. Nothing at all like the ones they exchanged earlier. Something distinctly romantic about this. An implicit connotation Jungkook would later ask himself if it was real or in his head.
“Come on. I might let you lie on me,” Yoongi said, taking Jungkook by the forearms, helping him back to his feet. From this angle, Jungkook could see the singular hickey he made on Yoongi tonight, resting just beneath his jaw. It looked pretty there, like it belonged.
Jungkook trailed after Yoongi into the room, rolled into bed with a sigh. Yoongi slid under the blanket too, and Jungkook threw his leg over Yoongi’s thighs, pulling him closer. Maybe it was sleep mixed with whatever alcohol was left in his system, but he felt this need to be close to Yoongi.
It was probably in his head, but Jungkook could have sworn that Yoongi felt the same.
He settled on Yoongi’s shoulder with his eyes closed, one arm over his stomach, nose pressed close to his neck. Yoongi brushed his hand over Jungkook’s hair, then down his arm. Pulled him a bit closer, held him a bit tighter. There was no reason to, Jungkook had no plans of going anywhere, but he wondered what made Yoongi do it.
“Are you asleep?” Yoongi whispered, after some time passed—Jungkook couldn’t know with his eyes still closed—and the constant buzz of his phone roused him from his short nap. “You must be, huh? Of course you are. You must have tired yourself out earlier.”
Jungkook relaxed further as Yoongi’s careful touch danced over his face.
“I’ll get your food from the lobby and wake you up afterward.” Yoongi sighed, paused. His lips brushed Jungkook’s temple in a brief, loving kiss. “You’d probably find me insane for half the things I’m thinking right now. And… for some reason, I’m okay with that.”
As the sound of the hotel room door closing echoed in Jungkook’s ears, he could only ask himself if what Yoongi said had to do with their game, or something entirely different.