What drives Jungkook the craziest is being restrained from giving affection, from offering Yoongi anything in return for the attention Jungkook is paid now. It feels uneven; it feels almost criminal that Yoongi should devote so much time to making Jungkook feel good, when Jungkook has no avenue for recourse. He lets out a soft, broken sob when Yoongi goes particularly deep — it's not with the ache of sadness, but instead with something deeper than gratitude. He can't remember, before Yoongi, the last time someone tended to Jungkook first, let alone only him.
Even through the haze of desire, Jungkook feels seen. Wanted and cherished. There's a tear or two that slip from the corners of his eyes; he almost curses at the bindings, wanting to hold Yoongi, wanting so desperately to kiss him, though he's not sure how well he'd be able to do so when Yoongi's mouth remains tight and hot, and his voice echoes at the back of his throat.
What pushes Jungkook over in the end is the feel of Yoongi's long fingers splayed over his thigh, rubbing in small circles, in waves and indistinct lines. There are countless ways in which Yoongi could keep himself at a distance with Jungkook so restrained — ways in which he could draw out the torture, to make Jungkook beg. Instead, even with permission granted, Yoongi never forgets that little anchor, the movement seemingly subconscious as Yoongi continues to sink himself down over Jungkook's cock, tongue swirling, lips sucking. The contrast has his nerves coiling tight, hips bucking slightly as the pleasure spikes, pulling an ache from behind the base of his spine.
"Ah... Yoongi, I — I can't — I'm gonna come," Jungkook gasps, trying and failing to keep his eyes open, lids squeezing tight until the stars bloom at the edges of his vision. He shudders through the first wave, biting down on his lower lip as a moan slips free.
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Even through the haze of desire, Jungkook feels seen. Wanted and cherished. There's a tear or two that slip from the corners of his eyes; he almost curses at the bindings, wanting to hold Yoongi, wanting so desperately to kiss him, though he's not sure how well he'd be able to do so when Yoongi's mouth remains tight and hot, and his voice echoes at the back of his throat.
What pushes Jungkook over in the end is the feel of Yoongi's long fingers splayed over his thigh, rubbing in small circles, in waves and indistinct lines. There are countless ways in which Yoongi could keep himself at a distance with Jungkook so restrained — ways in which he could draw out the torture, to make Jungkook beg. Instead, even with permission granted, Yoongi never forgets that little anchor, the movement seemingly subconscious as Yoongi continues to sink himself down over Jungkook's cock, tongue swirling, lips sucking. The contrast has his nerves coiling tight, hips bucking slightly as the pleasure spikes, pulling an ache from behind the base of his spine.
"Ah... Yoongi, I — I can't — I'm gonna come," Jungkook gasps, trying and failing to keep his eyes open, lids squeezing tight until the stars bloom at the edges of his vision. He shudders through the first wave, biting down on his lower lip as a moan slips free.