There's a brief flicker of victory that crosses Jungkook's features when Yoongi nudges against him with his hips, pushing him onto his back. This position might be the one Jungkook likes most — at Yoongi's mercy, his weight a gentle comfort, gravity forcing their bodies to press flush, so that he can feel every last detail. Every breath. He lets his limbs splay comfortably, and only when Yoongi's hand hikes higher does Jungkook find his concentration stuttering at the mention of being intimate in the classroom.

It doesn't take much for Jungkook to conjure the image, practically feeling the cool, hard surface of the bench underneath naked thighs, his trousers pooling by his calves, Yoongi's fingers splayed over rosy knees. Jungkook's eyes flutter to a close, shallow breaths on his lips as a hand instinctively reaches up to thread through Yoongi's hair, carding, tugging at the strands. Pulling him closer, moaning at the feel of warm lips pulling at his skin.

"I want that," he gasps, his right leg kicking up and heel pressing into the mattress, while the opposite remains pinned under Yoongi's weight, hips rocking. Maybe he should feel worse than he does at the thought of using their shared space so selfishly — maybe they shouldn't, knowing that it might finally be the piece that tips the scale, makes their friends uncomfortable.

But it's also their place, the primary backdrop for their friendship. The place where Jungkook fell in love.

"Want this," he adds, groaning as Yoongi sucks again at his collarbone, pressing firm fingertips against Yoongi's neck. "Want you on my skin."