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vsunlinmoonk · 3 months ago

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ау, где Тэхен любит удивлять.

Чонгук, выполняя свой утренний ритуал, сидит за кухонным столом с кружкой чая и телефоном, в котором просматривает рабочи�� чаты, время от времени заходя в свой календарь и подправляя график, который ему скидывает секретарь. Он ждет, когда освободится душ, чтобы начать уже собираться на работу, но его парень сегодня слишком долго намыливает себя. Скорее всего он собирается на встречу с друзьями, ведь у него сегодня выходной. Ему повезло с графиком работы больше, чем Чону: в то время, когда кто-то ходит в офис 5/2 и работает чуть ли не по 12 часов, Тэхен работает сам на себя и может делать себе выходные тогда, когда этого требует его организм или мозг. Но, конечно же, чаще он выбирает график как у своего парня, чтобы выходные они могли проводить вместе, делать что-то вместе и быть рядом. Просто сегодня Киму нужно походить по другим делам, более личным.

Душ затихает, пара минут и слышно как открывается дверь в ванную. Чонгук встает и выходит в коридор, намереваясь уже умыться и принять душ, чтобы не опаздывать в последний рабочий день недели и не перерабатывать, но не успевает сделать и пары шагов, как по направлению к нему уже ступают босыми ногами, а на лице его личного инфаркта вырисовывается соблазнительная ухмылка.

— Почему ты голый, Тэ? — Чону бы закрыть глаза и перестать осматривать давно изученные вдоль и поперек изгибы родного тела, но отвести взгляд просто невозможно.

— Разве это так важно? — Ким делает ещё пару шагов по направлению к своему мужчине и становится вплотную, закидывая свои руки тому на плечи и чувствуя чужие у себя на талии, которые уже чисто на рефлексе прижимают ближе. Прикусывая мочку уха и жарко выдыхая в шею, он добивает: — Ты против?

И правда. Совсем не важно почему его парень не оделся и вышел из ванной в чем мать родила, ведь он прекрасно знал, что Чонгук точно против не будет. Важно лишь то, где его сейчас разложат: прямо здесь, в коридоре? Или вернуться на кухню и взять его прямо на столе? Чон выбирает второй вариант, поэтому пригибается и подхватывает своё чудо на руки, неся его прямо к столу и опрокидывая на него. Левой рукой он переставляет кружку с недопитым чаем на рядом стоящую тумбу, а правой давит на грудную клетку сидящего, чтобы именно «разложить» Тэхена и сделать с ним уже что-нибудь, потому что Чонгук не вы-дер-жи-ва-ет.

— Ты сведёшь меня в могилу, — шепчет Чон и поднимает одну из его любимых ног, чтобы закинуть её себе на плечо и пройтись губами по стопе. Заставить забыть своё имя одними ласками? Или добиться криков от этих дьявольских губ, сводящих с ума даже своим молчанием? Чонгук выбирает оба варианта, но для начала доведет до исступления одними губами, языком и зубами, чтобы Тэхен извивался и умолял прекратить.

Чонгук целует жарко, чередуя ласки с укусами, не останавливаясь на чём-то одном: ведет от стопы дорожку выше – к колену, к бедру, задерживаясь на тазовых косточках, чтобы потом провести языком по низу живота и сорвать длинный выдох, переходящий в стон, когда Чон губами обводит стоящий член, не торопясь взять его в рот. Тэхен приподнимается на локтях, чтобы увидеть как снизу вверх на него взирают почти черными глазами из-за расширившихся зрачков и берут в рот головку члена, начиная дразнить языком уретру. Это действие заставляет прикусить губу, но Ким всё равно делает недовольный взгляд, придавливающий к земле, заставляя член в чоновых штанах дернуться.

— Ну и? Почему ты всё ещё одет?

Чонгук ухмыляется и отрывается от своего занятия, чтобы немедленно выполнить просьбу-приказ, стягивает с себя футболку, оставаясь обнаженным по пояс.

— Из нас двоих – ты здесь любишь проказничать, —футболка летит в сторону, Чон кладет ладонь на щёку своего человека, а Тэ зарывается пальцами в темные волосы мужчины, но кто из них притягивает другого ближе, чтобы соединиться в поцелуе, непонятно. Из-за их притяжения можно сказать, что скорее оба потянулись одновременно, сливаясь в страстном танце губ, языков и зубов. Надолго растянуть одно из удовольствий их личной жизни не выходит, ведь Чон всё ещё помнит, что работу никто не отменял, поэтому, напоследок прикусывая чужую нижнюю губу, он отрывается и притягивает Кима за бедра ближе к краю. Опускаясь поцелуями от шеи к груди, Чонгук одной рукой поглаживает член любимого, а пальцами другой сжимает и оттягивает сосок, пока язык обводит другой. Он спускается ещё ниже, чтобы обхватить губами ствол и заглотить его почти что целиком, задерживаясь, чтобы пустить вместе с блаженным стоном вибрацию по всей длине и услышать, как Тэхен громко выдыхает и зарывается пальцами в его волосы, не сильно сжимая и направляя, заставляет быстрее двигать головой и брать глубже. Не давая кончить, Чон отрывается от члена, дразнит поцелуями по всей длине и спускается ниже, обхватывая губами яички и посасывая, берет руками под коленями и выпрямляется, заставляя Тэ отпустить свои волосы.

— Какой прелестный вид, — Чонгук облизывается и проходится глазами от паха до чужого лица, внезапно обнаруживая на нём смущение и ухмыляясь с того, как его парень пытается прикрыть красноту щек. — Детка, ты серьезно?

— Твой взгляд такой… — Тэхен сглатывает и растопыривает пальцы у глаз, чтобы взглянуть в это наглое лицо. — Голодный.

— Так я ещё и не завтракал, только чай выпил, — Чон ладонями сжимает чужие ноги и поднимает их выше, а после складывает парня чуть ли не вдвое. — Но мы ведь сейчас это исправим, верно?

Тэхен расширяет свои глаза и перехватывает себя под коленями, потому что понимает, что последует дальше и не ошибается. Чонгук наклоняется и прикусывает бедро, руками же пробираясь к самой восхитительной заднице в его жизни, одной оттягивает половинку, а второй шлепает по ягодицам, вырывая этим действием протяжный стон, переходящий в крик, ведь Чон резко опускается и широким мазком языка приходится по колечку мышц. Немного отодвигается, большими пальцами растягивает отверстие в стороны, чтобы проникнуть глубже, вылизать лучше.

Тэхен сгорает прямо там, на столе в кухне: сначала от плавных движений, затем от резких толчков языком, чужая рука на члене двигается ужасно медленно по сравнению с тем, что творят с его задницей, но и это не помогает отсрочить оргазм. Кончает он громко, оглушительно сильно, а Чонгук наблюдает за блаженным лицом с чуть нахмуренными бровями — признак того, что ему что-то нравится или кто-то. А после приподнимается и языком проводит по животу, собирает сперму и сглатывает, смотря в родные карие глаза и наклоняясь, чтобы быстро чмокнуть в губы.

— Вкусно.

— Боже, ты невозможный, — Тэхен закатывает глаза, но все равно улыбается и тянется приподняться, наблюдая удовлетворенное выражение лица с блаженным взглядом. Чонгук в ответ берет за руку, помогая сесть, и чмокает снова в губы и в нос, сжимая бока, и, конечно, в макушку, улавливая запах с волос.

— Ты пахнешь весной.

— А ты тёплым летом.

Их первая встреча 3 года назад – ��юль. В апреле они поженятся.

А сейчас их ждёт продолжение в спальне, никто никуда не опаздывает?

#bts #kookv #kookv au #vkook #taekook #cute #so hot 🔥🔥🔥#taekook au #vkook au

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tkvkfanfics · 11 months ago

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

!!! CHAPTER 5

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ ↝ Taehyung was painfully aware of the truth; life was never free. Every decision he made had a consequence, and it seemed clear what price he would have to pay if someone got to know about the true character of his and Jungkook's relationship. However, he had come this far and there was no turning back or throwing it away. Sadly, he wasn't too brave either.

↝ Taehyung's and Jungkook's relationship right under the nose of obviousness.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢꜱ ↝ taekook, idol⥏ taehyung x idol⥏ jungkook ↝ idol⥏ taehyung x original male character ↝ straight namjoon ↝ namjin, idol⥏ namjoon x idol⥏ seokjin ↝ idol⥏ seokjin x original male character

ʀᴀᴛɪɴɢ ⥏ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ ↝ mature 18+ ↝ angst, homophobia, explicit sexual content, self-realisation

ᴛᴀɢꜱ ⥏ ɢᴇɴʀᴇ ↝ secret relationship, slow-burn, awkward first times, awkward romance, complicated friendships, taehyung forgets he should play a detective, ↝ idolsAU, BTS 2016

ꜱᴏᴜɴᴅᴛʀᴀᴄᴋ

ʜᴏᴍᴇ

Jungkook usually could find within himself a power to slap a hand over his mouth, even if imagery, when looking at the bland food becoming even more colour-lacking at the whirling bottom of the kitchen pot. He in fact preferred it over biting down on his tongue, as it more often than not resulted in a painful hiss or surprised gasp slipping past his lips and all his acting and pretence would be, as Jimin would say, not worth the sweat.

But it was the sweat that was cooling down his red face, the only part of his body still aware of the societal shame, as a reaction to Yoongi’s sharp glance he threw at him after Jungkook, with more spice than his hyung had asked him for, said, “Jin hyung would know how to make the dinner look more exciting.”

Taehyung raised his head, his hands comically shaking in front of his face, after the strange feeling of his eyes popping out his eyesockets made him choke on the air, as if he wanted to either catch them before they fell on the table or push them with his palms back. However, with eyes still present over his cheekbones, he couldn’t help but stare at the back of Jungkook’s head slowly moving from left to right in a still there disappointment over Yoongi’s pale broth.

It seemed no one was in a mood this evening approaching night, as the skills of Yoongi’s tongue, usually showing only behind the rhythm or melody of his lyrics, challenged Jungkook’s brattiness. “Oh, really? Jin hyung would know how to make this more exciting?’ his voice was dripping with annoyance, ‘I didn’t know making food look good was,’ he slammed a fist on the counter next to the stove before he continued, 'a requirement for survival.”

Taehyung nearly jumped on his chair when Yoongi took the cutting board from Jungkook’s hands with such force it made the boy fly a step back. The onion Taehyung had precisely cut while Jungkook was offering him tissues dropped to the bottom of the pot copying Yoongi’s untamed anger. Jungkook’s shoulders jerked when the wood hit the walls of the sink with a dull, heavy clunk. He had to take a step back if he didn’t want to be spattered by the hot stream of water hitting the cutting board and splashing from the flat surface. But Yoongi wasn’t done. One hand, bubbling with dish soap, was rubbing off the lingering, tears-producing stink of onions while the fingers of the other one grasped the air dangerously close to Jungkook’s collar as if he wanted to pull him close to spat the threats into his face.

“Maybe if someone else bothered to help in the kitchen,’ Taehyung was as well watching how Yoongi’s fingers curled before the single digit wasn’t pointing at Jungkook’s chest, ‘you would find your excitement here. But I guess gratefulness is not what hyung has taught you.”

Jungkook used to state from time to time, sometimes more casually than not, that Taehyung’s eyes were piercing for details and his ears sensitive for tones of emotions. Taehyung usually waved the seriousness on Jungkook’s face off while trying not to show he noticed how breathless Jungkook’s voice became as if he wanted everyone to share the same eagerness over Taehyung’s boring traits. So he wondered, after Jungkook sent him a quick glance, if he was not the only one who took in a slight mockery in Yoongi’s tone while he addressed Jin.

The corner of Jungkook’s mouth lifted when his tongue found the soft insides of his cheek. He looked over Yoongi’s bones making up his thin shoulder, squinting through the steam of water, close to raise sore blisters on Yoongi’s hands, he set his eyes on bubbles popping around the familiar design craved into wood. Taehyung knew he would have to step forward if he didn’t want to soak the tissues with Jungkook's spilt defeat and Yoongi’s undying stubborn rage. The fight wasn’t over, the words were bobbing in Jungkook’s throat, because there was no reason for Yoongi to yell out his problems and unresolved inner issues at him.

What happened next cut the strings of comprehension leading to Taehyung’s brain. The legs of the chair he was sitting on scrapped the floor with a sound loud and uncomfortable enough to drown out the words moving by Jungkook’s lips, trembling in dare to not bruise his ego. Taehyung’s own mouth was opening and closing, he started speaking as soon as Jungkook took a breath.

“Guys, let’s calm down.”

But the first sound cutting through the sizzling pot set over blue flame echoed before Jungkook’s lungs expanded with air, before Taehyung’s toes bent to find the strength to push his body backwards, yet the human reaction is formed and finished in a millisecond, and even a second is too short to stop the voice from talking and legs from walking. When Taehyung was able to finally halt on his feet, there was only the last step separating him from the fighting duo, and Yoongi’s teeth were gleaming, a tell-tale sign whatever argument Jungkook had about peeling the onions earlier, managed to die.

“Yoongi-yah, that is enough!” even if Taehyung was not able to recognise the authority demanding the attention of voice slicing through the tension, even if the sigh of disappointment would not remind him of the times he himself was on its receiving end, there was only one person living under the same roof who could and had right to call Yoongi so casually.

“Jin hyung!” the surprise was forced out of Taehyung’s mouth before the unclear shadows of a person standing with legs far away from each other gave in to the chandelier light. He was sure everyone in the room could hear and understand the relief shaking behind his sudden yell.

Sometimes Taehyung pulled out his hand from the hold of composure and rather let the emotions intertwine their fingers. Melodramatic.

He could already see his arms thrown over Jin’s wide shoulders, his chin creasing and gathering the material of a beige T-shirt or was it a sweater? Taehyung thought the detail if smooth fabric or rough wool was tickling his neck didn’t matter, until he didn’t blink.

The awkward 'oh' blowing air from his nose and lips put an end to his antics. The light was finally dimmed around the right angles and if he let the click of his elbow joint be announced, the heels of his palms would be teased by the curls of hard bristles growing from someone’s face.

The second had passed.

Jin’s lean but tall figure was towering at least a head above Hyungu unsurely stomping like an explorer or an offer of peace before him. A forced smile of ease was carefully curling upwards while his gaze flickered between the three shocked faces and the bag, taking the shape of something wide and tall, like a falling tower, hiding behind the red plastic, swaying on his three outstretched fingers.

Taehyung was late to gasp. He didn't expect Hyungu to come with Jin, to show up long past the threshold of their place like a bold suggestion to get to know each other. Maybe Taehyung read the morning issue wrong, maybe the pessimism dragged him away from seeing how it could be resolved. He spent a day dreading Jin's broken heart coming to the surface as a rage towards their company.

“Jin hyung,’ Taehyung said again, his voice quieter this time, ‘You're back.”

Yoongi's huff was tired enough to blow an air on Taehyung's ears. It seemed the anger dissolved into annoyance in his demeanour. “You always know how to make an entrance, hyung,�� Yoongi clicked his tongue, his tone still a little sharp but lacking the bite it had held before.

Jin chuckled softly, his eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement, “Here I am.” Taehyung didn't miss the warm spreading gently from his presence.

Jin’s fingers found their way to Hyungu's shoulders and gave it a soft pat, yet it did nothing to melt away the man's nervousness. Taehyung could swear by every tickling minute the unease was growing more visible on his features.

“We brought some food,” Jin's smile widened while his hands travelled down Hyungu's tensed muscles under his sweater, they stopped right under his elbows where the fabric seemed to be a bit loose, and he raised them up. The plastic bag, still hanging from Hyungu's three fingers, rustled when a handle slipped from one long digit. Taehyung now recognised the white styrofoam boxes, wrapped tightly with the protective layers of the see-through kitchen wrap, leaning against the fragile material as gravity commanded.

“Awesome,’ grunted Yoongi from behind, followed by the stubborn, squishy plop of sponge falling to the bottom of the sink, ‘Here you have your excitement, Jungkook-ah.”

Taehyung's turn to catch Jungkook's reaction was long ago programmed in his heart and he thought their hearts were beating the same, looking for the mirror of his own surprise on the boy's face. Instead, he was left with confusion. Jungkook's eyes were on Hyungu, the furrow between his eyebrows had disappeared, only to be replaced by a blank expression he often wore when he was trying to take in too much information at once. His gaze carefully mapped Hyungu's body, ignoring the offer of peace rustling above his head, in his hand.

His expression was unreadable, as if guarding what he was thinking or feeling behind an invisible barrier, his eyes so void of emotion that they seemed to threaten with something powerful hiding underneath.

Taehyung couldn't dive in to figure out why Jungkook seemed so angry.

დ

Jungkook’s hand was on his thigh, hidden under the blanket he had thrown over their bodies the moment the familiar fingers had started to climb up his ankle, using the round protruding bone as a platform to jump up higher his leg. Jungkook’s skin has warmed up, protected from the cold blows of winter throwing an invitation through the ajar door of their balcony where Yoongi disappeared to fill his lungs with calming nicotine. Everyone could smell it even before Jimin pushed back inside, shivering with hands moving up and down his arms. Taehyung didn’t know why Jimin was trying, if Yoongi wanted to be alone, distance himself from Jin and his boyfriend, no one could make him join their party of delicious takeout. Jin’s excitement and Hyungu’s unfamiliar presence were loud enough to scream over Jimin’s arguments, it was also hard to follow the movements of his lips due to white smoke blowing over them whenever Yoongi bit something back.

Taehyung felt almost sorry for the slump of Jimin’s shoulders, the pose of defeat. But then he remembered his lack of trying to save their crumbling friendship. Not that Taehyung was any better, but it was never easy to see ourselves in not influenced light.

Still, Taehyung’s eyes continued to linger. He had already mapped and remembered the ticks of Jimin’s discomfort expressed as joints’ cracks cutting through Jin’s speech, or the regular shifting in his place. The moment Jimin lifted his head, no longer strong enough to pretend he couldn’t feel the burn of Taehyung’s stare, Jungkook’s nails bored into his thigh, calling for his attention.

Under the observant gaze, their eyes locked. Taehyung wished his eyes could be blue like sapphires or green like limes, so the contrast while staring into Jungkook’s chocolate brown could describe the thrill happening in his mind on the outside.

Taehyung counted on time to slow down his heartbeat and catch the butterflies fluttering their wings as adrenalin rushed them to dance in his stomach. But the thrill had always been lingering on the scene, Jungkook's eyes were like an entrance to another world and it was hard not to crave the fields of gentle understanding and rivers of passionate love once he had seen, walked and swum through them. Something powerful seemed to be connecting them even without words said, and it filled Taehyung with a sense of belonging, building up the urge that invaded his veins and called him closer and closer until no space was between them, or maybe it was a grip of Jungkook's warm hand and fingers running along the muscle of his thigh.

When Jungkook's nails ripped the weak strings of his sweatpants, he felt shivers running down his spine. He shifted slightly, wanting to lean in, perhaps the vision of Jungkook's breath on his neck made him reckless, but the sudden cough, resounding in his rush, held him back.

Taehyung blinked and a flush spread into his cheeks, suddenly hyperaware of the bulge over his left leg, rising the blanket that had wrapped around the shape of Jungkook’s knuckles. His thighs parted and he could feel his toes bending and the inside of his calf straining when he reached with his right leg to the end of the sofa, moving away from the boy teasing his inner desires. Jungkook’s palm slid down from his body with a thud meeting the cushions and another coughing fit fell on his ears.

Taehyung lifted his head. His eyes met with Jimin's sharp gaze boring into him with a knowing glint. He knew, just like Taehyung did, what was happening under the blanket.

დ

The moment Yoongi’s whiskey was brought from the cupboard again, the catalyst to Taehyung’s migraines, Taehyung wanted to be alone. He was grateful for his will, stronger than Jungkook’s, to decline Jin’s offer to grease his lips with barbecue while the fire of the last shot was still present on his tongue and making his throat numb.

He placed his forearms over the slippery railing until the wetness didn’t soak through the sleeves of the top he was wearing and with the tip of his slipper, he moved the porcelain container, over which the ashy smoke was slowly dying, closer to the edge. He knew Yoongi would not pat his shoulder from gratefulness if his ashtray ended up as the black shards five floors under them, a thread for the cyclists’ tires and delicate feet protected only by shoes’ soles. But maybe the irritation over his hyung’s unhealthy habit also found its way into his gloomy mood.

The slur of voices and clinking of plates was a muted reminder at the back of his mind that no matter how hard he tried, it was impossible to find isolation where silence would help him to either tidy his thoughts or not think about anything. Taehyung didn’t know what he preferred, to analyse the unholy waves that had been drenching him for the past days, with Jungkook’s touch acting as a moon during flow, or to use the stillness of time and quietness of life as a shield from his embarrassment yelling “Stop thinking about it!” at him. To write down the words of explanation and apology he would have to later whisper to Jimin, or throw his best friend’s knowing look towards the night and watch it disappear behind the shadows until he wouldn’t be alone again without the guilt; Taehyung’s head was spinning. To remind Yoongi of the support Jin was never too shy to experiment with, to intertwine his and Jungkook’s fingers before knocking on Sejin’s office door, to ask Namjoon why he did it, or-

“Teetee.”

The porcelain under Taehyung’s feet rang like glasses touching in cheers, he could feel his knee flexing, swifter and rougher than he intended, but the sting of wires cutting through his sweatpants didn’t hurt as much as the high-pitched shatter of fallen, broken pieces on the pavement's unforgiving surface.

“Shit,” cursed Taehyung, leaning over the railing, the bottom of his ribcage pressing over the metal tube and cutting his breath. He squinted his eyes, trying to recognise what remained from Yoongi’s favourite and the only ashtray among the rotten leaves and plastic bags blown out from the trashcans. He thought he could see the street lamp reflecting on the polished surface of something, but it could as well be a puddle, staying for days and nights, unfazed by the January weather.

“Shit, shit, shit,” he repeated, noting the soggy cigarette bending over the edge of the balcony, one half stuck to the cement by the rainwater, the other one hanging in the air.

Taehyung was about to try and reach for it, but a strong hand grabbed his arm, pulling him back from the edge and short railing.

“Are you nuts?’ asked a stern voice, ‘Are you trying to kill yourself or something?”

Taehyung turned to see Hyungu standing behind him, the knees of his spread legs bent while his pelvis was an awkward touch over Taehyung's butt. He raised an eyebrow and the serious expression wasn't leaving the stern muscles of his face.

“No,’ mumbled Taehyung, shaking his head, ‘I was just trying… Yoongi hyung's ashtray, it fell.” He gestured over the railing with his arm, pointing down on the street, then his eyes flickered towards the last roll of nicotine stick but it was no longer there. “Oh.”

“And you were going to jump down five floors to get it? That's kind of stupid." The second eyebrow joined the mess of hair on Hyungu's perfect forehead. "It's broken,’ he said with confidence stretching his lips into a tight grimace, ‘If it fell, it's broken.”

Taehyung felt his cheeks growing hot and his chin dropped to his chest in embarrassment, a tear of frustration dripped down the tip of his nose.

He could feel the grip on his arm relaxing until it didn't drop by his side again. He didn't even try to move it towards his face to hide his tears.

“What's wrong?” asked Hyungu, his voice concerned but soft around the edges, reaching Taehyung's soul to soothe it, but Taehyung felt like pushing it away. He lifted his shoulders and dropped them back, then raised them again and with a shudder vibrating inside his chest, he sighed, “I don't know,” the words were an inaudible mumble escaping his lips while his eyelashes sent another tear to slide down his cheek.

Hyungu stayed silent, unsurely shifting on his feet, still behind his back, while listening to Taehyung's messy sobs. Jungkook would put his arms around him, hide his head in the crook of his neck so he could smell the youngster's cologne Jungkook hated, but Taehyung loved, and drew comforting circles in the dip of his back where the cotton of his T-shirt met the waist of his sweatpants. Taehyung again didn't know what he preferred. “I… I can't choose,’ he voiced out, aware Hyungu couldn't know what he meant, ‘I can't make up my mind.”

“To choose what?”

This time a wet crackling sensation from the back of his throat erupted into a sob. His hands moved to cover his face, he tried to either push the tears back or to dry them out.

“I don't know what I want,” cried Taehyung through his fingers. “I just want everything to be like before, to be okay but,’ he cut himself to bury his teeth in the flesh of his trembling bottom lip, but no hiss got out to announce the pain, ‘I don't know how. It's scary.”

A laugh pushed a spurt of hot air out of Taehyung's mouth when an arm wrapped around his body, shakily pulling his shoulders against Hyungu's side. Maybe because the body difference between the older man and Jungkook was too big to not notice when only sharp bones were under his bones, or because Hyungu simply wasn't Jungkook, Taehyung couldn't find the safety he felt under Jungkook's gaze, even if Hyungu's words were speaking reassurance.

He didn't know why, and he was not about to admit that aloud, but deep inside his heart, Taehyung was jealous of Hyungu and Jin. It felt stupid to even think about it, but this dumb wish was not leaving his mind no matter how hard he shook his head. Having a relationship revealed would lift the thick air they had to breathe to at least taste the life. Taehyung wasn't naive, he knew they couldn't change the density to feathery to walk high over everyone's heads where the horizon met the sky. Moving the kisses they shared to the sofa to forget about the movie playing on TV would be enough, or stuffing each other's cheeks with the takeout Jin brought tonight. But at the same time, Taehyung understood the reality.

When Jungkook confessed his feelings for him, he was so sure that this was it, the one thing he needed in his life. Now everything was a mess and Taehyung was slowly realising that being who he was, continued to be a burden.

“How are you doing it,” Taehyung brought his hand to his nose and wiped the snot with the back of his thumb, ‘knowing where to step.” He set his eyes on Hyungu, searching for evidence that it wasn’t impossible.

Hyungu pulled back, wrapping his fingers around Taehyung’s shoulders, he pushed him towards the glass door. Taehyung could feel the cold melting into droplets when it came into contact with his body's warmth.

The harsh wind started to show on the redness of their cheeks and their clothes felt fresh against their skin. While Taehyung’s hair was a mess following the path of air drift, the curls of Hyungu’s beard did not tremble even if the windows behind Taehyung’s back was rumbling.

Hyungu’s expression turned serious once more, and Taehyung noticed his eyes travelling upwards. The slick surface of the steel roof overhead cast a hazy reflection on his pupils.

“Do you remember when I told you,’ Hyungu slicked his lips, ‘I ran away from home because I realized I had feelings for a man?” With a heavy sigh they returned together to the empty coffee shop a week before last Christmas, Taehyung could almost smell the lingering scent of soju in the air as if the wind had brought it.

“Your teacher?” he mumbled awkwardly.

“Yes, him,’ Hyungu began, speaking slowly and carefully, ‘What I didn't tell you was that rumours were spreading about me back then. I don't even know how they started, but kids that age are surprisingly perceptive.” Hyungu looked down at his hands, they were pink, dry and shaking. Taehyung wanted to take them in his own.

“My teacher told me to study hard and go to Seoul,” he continued, his voice laced with pain as he spat out the name of the city they both now called home. “He said no one would care if I liked girls or boys there. I believed him, but he was wrong.” Hyungu shook his head and turned to look at the night sky behind them.

“I didn't make it to a university like he'd hoped. That first year was a struggle. But eventually, I got a job, my own place, a better job. And I made friends,” he took a deep breath and laughed bitterly. “But when they found out who I really was, they turned their backs on me.” Hyungu looked at Taehyung's hands slowly approaching him and hid his shaking fingers behind the waistband of his pants.

“My teacher's advice was to keep running until I found people who would accept me. But then I thought, why should I run? Why not just be honest from the start? Because in the end, it doesn't matter how close you think you are to someone - their love… it could be all fake, or they thought it was real. So I’ve stopped running. I’ve stopped thinking too much.”

Taehyung's mind struggled to hold onto each word as it slipped away too quickly, maybe even before its sound could shape into meaning in the air before it reached Taehyung's ears. He couldn't help but feel frustrated, unsure of what was Hyungu hinting at.

Taehyung and Hyungu stood side by side, their eyes shining in the light of the sleeping city. As they gazed at the Namsan Tower changing colours, Taehyung couldn't help but feel small and insignificant. The cold January night sent shivers down his spine as he thought about how easily they could blend into the bustling city.

When the steward's voice blared through the cabin, reminding them to fasten their seatbelts as turbulence shook the plane just before landing, trying to remain calm, Taehyung gazed out of the circular window at Seoul's iconic symbol. Its bright lights, flickering all day and night to guide those above the clouds, had promised him home.

The home was what Taehyung saw after he chased away the sleep from his eyes every morning, being home was what he felt before Hyungu cleared his throat again, “I remember freezing on the balcony maybe a year ago, after Sooki closed the door behind me and Kim Namjoon and said, “Please, talk.”

That night I met the man that someone whom I am in love with can’t stop talking about and after I finally left, I thought I wouldn’t see him again. But fate has funny ways of surprising us. Seeing Kim Namjoon in that office this morning… after a whole year, I realised that speaking hypothetically while freezing on a balcony, would not solve anything.”

Taehyung nervously glanced behind his shoulder, meeting the reason behind his feelings. Namjoon hyung was sprawled out on their sofa, his shins resting on the armrest while his hands propped up his head. His eyes were on Jin hyung whose lips were moving in words Taehyung couldn’t hear, but judging by the smiles forming on Jimin's and Hoseok hyung's faces, it must have been a funny story from his tipsy mind. It seemed Yoongi hyung had thrown away his cowardice after Hyungu disappeared onto the balcony and joined Jungkook, whose eyes were fixed on Taehyung as he licked clean the plastic containers, not minding the orange sauce above his upper lip. This was Taehyung's home, but unfortunately, he still felt too afraid.

დ

“Your hands are cold,” was the first thing Jungkook said to him after he joined him inside his empty room under his duvet and wrapped his arms over his waist. Taehyung’s hands were patting Jungkook’s tensed stomach over his black hoodie while his cheek found a comfortable place between the hard muscles of Jungkook’s back. The light from the tiny screen, raised in front of Jungkook’s nose, was too much for his swollen eyes.

Even if Taehyung couldn’t see the colourful images changing on Jungkook’s phone, the youthful woman's voice full of energy one needed if they wanted to entertain (and gain money) hinted to Taehyung what would be the reason behind the dark circles rising under the younger's eyes.

“Your Japanese is already good enough. You've memorized all your sentences,” Taehyung yawned the words into the soft warm material of Jungkook’s hoodie, tasting the wool between his teeth. “Although, I didn't know you were into journaling.” Without moving his head, he could picture the leather notebook gathering dust at the bottom of Jungkook's nightstand drawer since Christmas. Yoongi had suggested that writing could help boost Jungkook's creativity, but the boy preferred to keep his thoughts and ideas locked away in his phone behind a four-digit pin.

“It is easy to pronounce.” Taehyung could feel his head lifting as Jungkook shrugged, and slid down until the bones of his lower back didn’t stop him when he leaned forward. Jungkook’s nose was now nearly touching the screen while he squinted at the characters the lady from the video was pointing at. “Hyung, how do you say composing ?”

Taehyung was sure Jungkook could feel the hot air tickling the bared skin of his back, as he shivered, when Taehyung chuckled softly before answering, “ Sakkyoku. ” The lazy smile that lifted the corners of his mouth didn't feel forced despite the tension of his squashed cheek surrounding the bone, when a hollow sound of a nail tapping the screen twice until the, now familiar, voice of a young lady wasn't cutting through the comfortable silence again, putting stress on each syllable of an expression.

“See, I still have a lot to improve. I want to be the best for ARMY.”

In the buzz of voices trying to imitate each other while the relaxing melody of raindrops falling on the window, in the beforehand agreed on rhythm, was soothing the always there frustration on every language learning journey, Taehyung’s fingers, crushed between Jungkook’s hard stomach and even more muscly thighs, outstretched in order to ease the tingling sensation teasing his blood and oxygen deprived nerves. He furrowed his brows over the grating sound as his nail came into contact with the metallic teeth of the zipper, he could feel every lump trying to even where the nail was cut close to the pink flesh.

Taehyung didn’t know why he thought it was a good idea, maybe because Jungkook appeared unbothered, repeating the expressions he had no chance to remember over a few free nights, despite the obvious pressure against his crotch. He trapped the thin pull tab between the soft parts of his thumb and index finger and was rewarded by the smooth slide when the teeth of the zipper came apart, revealing the elastic material fitting tightly around Jungkook’s hips.

The hitching of Jungkook's breath was the sign Taehyung was waiting for. As if the stopping red of the traffic light changed to blue, skipping the warning yellow, he skillfully popped open the button holding the fabric of Jungkook's jeans together. Jungkook shifted in his arms but Taehyung's hands were too far in the exploring, brushing the heels of his palm and fingers along the fabric of the white underwear and up until the goosebumps didn't ripple across his arms when the sweat of hot skin acted like a grease, helping him to move even further. The dip of Jungkook's navel was throbbing in the middle of his palm. Without thinking, he bent his fingers and pressed down, pulling the pink marks along the path of his nails, tracing along the defined lines of Jungkook's abs.

It was as if someone pressed the button of the remote and turned off the rain, the frantic shallow inhales and exhales of Jungkook's breathing drowned out the sound of his own heart hitting his ribcage with force when his hand slid lower, fingers brushing over the waistband of Jungkook's boxer. Taehyung bit down on his lip, stifling a moan as if it was him tortured by the sweet burning touch. His fingers fell straight, sticking to damp skin and hiding under the elastic band. A breath full of surprise parted his lips when Jungkook's hips bucked into his touch, the muscles in his stomach contracting under Taehyung's forearm and Taehyung's hand wasn't even that low, he could barely feel the pubes growing messily around the base. Taehyung couldn't help but smile, feeling the rush of power that came with being able to make Jungkook feel so good.

Suddenly, Jungkook's hand pushed into the tight space between his torso and legs, he grabbed Taehyung's wrist and pulled it away from his body. Taehyung's eyes widened and his heart, sinking to the bottom of his belly while embarrassment crept up his throat, forgot how to beat.

“Hyung, please stop,’ Jungkook whispered urgently, his voice trembling with lack of air, ‘I am…” the hum was jumping over the sound waves while he tried to come up with a good excuse. Unknowingly, he left Taehyung with a sense of shame as if he had crossed a line. “I am trying to focus,” he muttered before releasing Taehyung's wrist and holding up his phone. The screen was now black, and Jungkook gestured for Taehyung to see.

“And I am trying to distract you,” Taehyung replied, his voice low and husky. He took a step back on his knees, swaying from side to side above the soft mattress, he waited until Jungkook didn't turn around to face him. With shoulders hunched forward, boring his fists next to the inner side of his knees, he sat on his heels, straitening his back. His face was mad red just as Taehyung could feel his own cheeks flushing and when he looked at him, his eyelids were heavy, falling over the glossy surface of his eyes before they closed in a long blink.

“I can't do this now,” he sighed finally, opening his eyes just enough to watch Taehyung's reaction changing from aroused to confused and upset as his bottom lip cast a shaking shadow over his chin.

Taehyung put his hands on the dip of his waist, narrowing his eyes. “Why not? It is you who always does it,” he emphasized, leaning in and nuzzling his nose into Jungkook's neck. He inhaled the sweet scent of his cologne. The heat was still radiating off of Jungkook's body and his eyes fluttered shut as Taehyung pressed a soft kiss to his neck, his lips trailing up to his earlobe, popping a clear bubble when his thirst gathered too much saliva inside his mouth. Taehyung's hand sneaked beneath Jungkook's hoodie, his palm coming to rest on the younger's chest. He could feel the rapid beat of Jungkook's heart, and he knew that he was just as turned on as he was, as if the hardness poking the primal reaction out of his system was not enough proof.

“Kookie,’ Taehyung's voice was thick with desire, ‘Please?”

Jungkook's body was as still as a rock, his eyes settled on something; probably the thick white pain spread over walls, over Taehyung's head, but his lips puckered when Taehyung's hot breath teased them. A whine moved by Taehyung's tongue once it got lost inside Jungkook's mouth, hitting the back of his teeth and pressing against something soft but muscly, something feverish but chilly when the air from his nose snuck between their kiss. The kiss was raw, far away from a peck they shared every morning, but only nearing the desperation Taehyung could feel down his body.

Jungkook's knuckles were rubbing up and down his spine, massaging the skin at the back of his neck or just above his butt between his fingers.

“Wah a'you so,’ Jungkook tried to say, but with Taehyung's teeth pulling at his bottom lip it was hard to form any words, ‘ horny ?”

Taehyung pulled away for a moment, leaving Jungkook to suck in the air. He coughed when the intense smell of arousal got into his airways, nearly choking on it.

“Just let me try,” Taehyung pleaded, staring, as if he forgot to care about his dignity, at the bulge pushing past the opened fly of Jungkook's jeans. He led his hand along the shape of Jungkook's body, lifting his palm until only his fingers weren't tracing what was hiding under the black hoodie.

“Tae,” Jungkook whispered, the butterflies in Taehyung's stomach fluttered over the nickname falling from the boy's lips so effortlessly, “I… are you sure?”

“Just…’ Taehyung shuddered, barely holding himself when the thick muscle of the younger's cock jumped, tapping against the fabric of his underwear, when the warmth of his hand touched it, ‘let me try.”

Seventy millilitres were pumped by each beat of Taehyung's heart. He felt full of blood when Jungkook finally released the bottom lip from the bite of his teeth and, followed by the curt nod, he whispered, “Okay.”

დ

He ignored the tired calls jumping from the walls leading to the corridor where the doors hiding their rooms were promising him the comfort of his bed. Pulling the blanket someone threw over his body when he was flying somewhere between the consciousness of reality and the bliss of the alcohol high, his eyes narrowed while he tried to remember whether he placed the mat in front of his room or not. He shrugged, kicking the slippers off his feet and his breath hitched when the cold of parquets penetrated the skin of his dancer's soles right to his sensitive nerves.

Watching how his arm shot into the air to push onto the handle without his brain noting the movement, made him giggle. He nearly tripped over the threshold when the light push was everything needed for the door to fall open. Holding onto the handle he let his body follow the motion, stumbling inside the room and celebrating when he spotted three beds pushed against the wall.

That was until his senses didn't catch the smell of something other than alcohol or sweat, something he already knew but just couldn't find in himself to recognise it. He followed his nose until his eyes fell onto two bodies tangled in each other's arms. His heart dropped and eyes widened while he watched how Taehyung's lips were exploring the inside of Jungkook's mouth with obvious hunger, without caring that somebody was watching them.

The rough moan and whimpers escaping Jungkook's lips; his voice deep with pleasure as Taehyung's arm was moving up and down along his hips expertly; filled up the room and what stayed unoccupied from his brain. It left him breathless. He was slow to slap a palm over his mouth, or maybe he missed it, as a sting woke up the receptors on his chin.

Their bodies, tangled in the sheets, moving against each other with hands roaming freely, stopped. As Taehyung's eyes fluttered shut and opened again, blinking away the arousal clouding his senses, with fingers still wrapped around the length of Jungkook's dick, he let out a shriek of his name. Jimin could feel himself becoming sober.

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