lovestrippedbare | 𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕠

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yoongi

𝕖𝕟𝕖𝕣𝕘𝕚𝕔𝕠

There are times, Jungkook thinks, when unexpected changes in plan work out for the best. Giving up on the idea of Busan during winter break wasn't the easiest choice at the time — Jungkook had expected it to be the highlight of their winter, and giving into the pressure of Yeongwook's blackmailing hurt on multiple levels. But distance seemed safest. Planning, biding their time, having Jungkook carefully siphon a portion of his allowance over to Yoongi for safekeeping, every passing day made the trip feel more viable again, until the two of them suddenly realized that Yoongi's birthday would be an easy occasion to leave for, and that was that.

They've picked up memories along the way. The first night Jungkook had Yoongi stay over. The first dinner together with his mother, with her offering countless thanks for helping her youngest with his studies. A trip out to a nameless beach, all seven of them together, huddled and bracing against the last of the winter winds.

Getting to March isn't as difficult as Jungkook expected it to be, and now that they're here, the wait has made everything all the sweeter.

He takes countless pictures with his camera — of their seats together on the train, of the little box meals they buy from the lady with the cart. Of the ramyeon they buy an hour later, when it's clear that the box meals are more packaging than substance.

Of Yoongi, staring out the window of the train car, a soft smile on his face.

At first, Jungkook struggled with the idea of spending much of Yoongi's birthday on the train, but the trip to Busan takes several hours at best, which would have required missing class on Friday. Seeing Yoongi's peaceful expression on the train helps to set a little of that regret to rest, as does the stifled laughter they share as they stumble down the hall to their room in the hotel.

"Hotel Elysee," Jungkook says with a flourish as he waits for Yoongi to swipe their room key. "Is that, like, French?"

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It would be easy to tease. After all, Yoongi knows perfectly well that Jungkook wants him. It would be, at least in theory, easy to keep him wanting. Except it isn't at all. Except that just watching Jungkook like this leaves something pulling tight through Yoongi, his heart and throat tight for a moment, with love as much as with desire. It's hard to put it into words, but he'd like to think he could write a song about it, if he could think about anything but this for a moment. He wants to be inside of him, not just to ease the physical longing, but because he wants so badly just to be close to Jungkook.

While a more specific answer would have provided more direction, Yoongi can't pretend this isn't, no matter how obvious, perhaps the most satisfying response. He shifts forward, ducking his head to press a kiss to the small of Jungkook's back. "I love you," he murmurs. Maybe at some other time, he'd remind himself that there's more to the world than this, but there isn't. Not really. He loves Jungkook and Jungkook loves him, and everything else is incidental. He nudges Jungkook's hip, encouraging him to roll onto his back. As badly as he wants to fuck him already, he's not about to do so without preparing Jungkook, and he wants to see him, to watch him, to be closer. "Turn over for me."

Just those three words are enough to release all the tension from Jungkook's body, a breath leaving his lips that he hadn't known he was holding. That Yoongi loves him was obvious this whole time, clear in every brush of skin to skin, in every word that falls from the other boy's lips — but there's still something special about hearing them spoken directly, like a salve that relaxes Jungkook to the core. He sighs at the touch of Yoongi's lips to his back, the way it anchors him emotionally, knowing that Yoongi's with him. Jungkook chews briefly on his lip, almost laughing at himself for the way his eyes start to grow warm, but thankfully Yoongi interrupts then with a request that Jungkook is all too happy to oblige.

Sitting up slightly, Jungkook pulls his knees together and carefully leans off to his side, laying on top of the mattress before he finally turns around. It's such a simple request, hardly even made clumsy by the ribbons around his wrists, and yet everything seems to stutter to a halt when Jungkook looks up and finds Yoongi again.

"Oh," he breathes, shocking himself when a tear slips free from his eyes. "Hi."

Yoongi knows it's stupid and melodramatic, but there are times when he looks at Jungkook and he doesn't understand how the world isn't in love with him. He's beautiful. Physically, but it's more than that, too. Even in the middle of a moment like this, rumpled and aroused, there's a sweetness to him that's irresistible. A purity, somehow. Jungkook is no more an angel than Yoongi is, but he's good in a way Yoongi isn't at all sure he is, and he's pretty sure he's a better person for getting to be close to that.

His heart skips a beat at the sight of him, and then he sees the tear sliding down Jungkook's cheek, and anything he might have done next is forgotten. There's nothing in Jungkook's posture or expression that suggests distress, but still Yoongi surges forward to gather him close, gently brushing a thumb over Jungkook's cheek. "Hi," he murmurs. "Hey. Are you alright? Not too tight still?" There is, admittedly, a small flicker of worry in his chest that he's done something wrong, but he dismisses it. They trust each other for a reason. Jungkook would tell him if there was anything he needed to stop or adjust. Still, even if he's not exactly crying, Yoongi has to be sure. Besides, there's a certain measure of relief in just holding Jungkook again, bodies tangled together so he can keep the younger boy close.

Before Jungkook can stop himself, he's leaning into the touch of Yoongi's hand. Technically, he's supposed to refrain from making any movements that Yoongi hasn't approved, he's supposed to wait for either permission or direction, but Yoongi's warmth is so close that Jungkook can't resist, his tears smearing against the palm of Yoongi's hand while he does. Even that slight concern in Yoongi's voice, unneeded though it is, squeezes at Jungkook's heart; he takes a deep breath to calm himself before nodding.

"I'm so good," Jungkook whispers, closing his eyes and almost burrowing himself against the touch. The whole of his body feels like it's aching, yearning for the touch that's been teased, dangled out of reach, sliding into shore now that Yoongi has gathered Jungkook into his arms. "Perfect, almost. Really happy, really good. I know that sounds kinda stupid, I just... really love you."

He laughs lightly at himself, torn between that and crying even more — he might do both. Jungkook blinks back the tears as he opens his eyes, lips parted and flushed.

Although Yoongi is perfectly aware that Jungkook loves him, there are moments when he gets so tangled up in his own adoration of the other boy he almost forgets Jungkook feels the same way about him. His breath catches and he smiles, quick and surprised, his heart fluttering. He'll never understand what he did to deserve this, but he doesn't care. He's so fucking lucky just to have it.

"It's not stupid," he says softly, thumb stroking gently along Jungkook's cheek. It's a relief to know that nothing's wrong — that it's the opposite, that, in spite of his own remarkable ability to trip over his own feet while standing still, he's gotten this so right. They needed this weekend, he thinks, a chance to get out of Seoul, away from their families, a chance just to be them with nothing in the way. Arms and legs ensnared as he leans his forehead against Jungkook's, he closes his eyes. "I love you. More than anything. And I mean that. If I — if I can make you this happy... It's not stupid. It's all I want."

He presses a kiss to Jungkook's cheek. There's a lot out there that Yoongi wants. He's young and ambitious and clever, and, in spite of his better judgment, he has bigger dreams than he cares to admit, sometimes even to himself. Still, curled up with Jungkook like this, he thinks he'd trade any and all of it for more of this.

This moment is such a sudden turn from the heated tangle of their limbs only seconds ago, and yet to Jungkook, the transition is seamless. Natural. Because what else could he want now, other than to have Yoongi's arms around him, shielding him from anything and everything in the world that might be less than what Jungkook wants. The universe has sized itself down to the weight and warmth of them here, in this bed, and Jungkook buries his nose against Yoongi's chest, eyes fluttering to a close as he inhales deep. Yoongi smells — somehow always like the piano, Jungkook thinks. Older than his years, wiser, well loved.

He sighs.

"I got really lucky," he mumbles, nuzzling his face closer still to Yoongi's chest, trying to hide the way his cheeks burn in embarrassment. "Not like I did anything to deserve — the person I looked up to most — knowing you like this, it's really... like winning the lottery. No, more than that. Kind of like it was just meant to be. Us finding each other."

Now tears prick at Yoongi's eyes, surprised wonder filling his chest. Sometimes he really doesn't understand how this happened, how they got so lucky. Some people never find their soul mate. Others don't for years. They found each other now, and sometimes that makes him feel keenly just how young they are, how miraculous it is to be this young and to have something so indescribably special. He can't imagine what he did to make Jungkook look up to him so much. It's harder still to understand how he managed to get Jungkook to fall in love with him. He doesn't care. What they have is too precious to question too much, at least right now.

"It was," he says softly, fingers running gently through Jungkook's hair. "We're supposed to be together. And you deserve everything. You have no idea... I love you so much." He'd give Jungkook the world if he could. He'd find for him anything his heart desired. It's hard sometimes to express just how intensely this love burns in him, how utterly it consumes him. Even with so many fierce friends, he's felt so alone, and now it's like he'll never have to be alone again. The person he loves best in all the world loves him best, too. He's not sure anything could be better than that.

Whether or not Jungkook deserves everything, he's not sure — if anything, he feels undeserving of everything in this moment, of Yoongi's love, of this trip to Busan. There isn't anything that Jungkook's done in his life, he feels, to make him deserving of things that bring him so much happiness. But maybe, a small voice in his mind beckons, maybe this is just fate's way of starting to make up for all the tragedies that he didn't deserve either. The death of his father, the violence of the new family he was given. Some days, Jungkook feels the blows are as inevitable as every one of his shortcomings, but today, ever since they got on the train, Jungkook knows that he can be more.

He just needs the right circumstances. He needs the right reasons to try.

"I have some idea," Jungkook murmurs, curling still further into Yoongi's hold, turning his head until he can feel the soft thud of Yoongi's heart. He brings his hands up, still bound, and traces his knuckles gently down the line of Yoongi's sternum, before turning his head to press soft, fluttering kisses against Yoongi's skin. "I have some idea, because of how much I love you."

"Okay, fair point," Yoongi says, soft against Jungkook's hair as he presses a kiss to the top of his head. He doesn't understand a lot of things, but he's sure of that much: that Jungkook loves him every bit as much as Yoongi loves Jungkook. He's not sure anyone — anyone — has ever loved him at once so deeply and so purely, true and intense and enduring, without a trace of obligation or regret. It's a gift beyond anything anyone has ever given him, anything he's ever known. He has no way of knowing what that feels like for Jungkook for sure, but he's pretty certain all the same that this is a love of equals, that they love each other just as absolutely.

Running his hand down Jungkook's back, he closes his eyes, enjoying the soft tease of kisses against his chest, reminding him how badly he still wants Jungkook in this moment. "I just mean..." He sighs, a hum of pleasure in his throat. "I'm lucky too." It feels so small compared to the enormity of what it is to be caught up in something like this, a passionate romance like he never thought he'd ever know. But then, he figures, Jungkook probably thought the same thing. Words are limited, or at least his are, no matter how hard he tries. Even music falters in the face of this. He's not sure he'll ever find a way to convey it properly, but then, Jungkook already understands. Far from Seoul, he thinks maybe he's never felt quite so at home.

"Hmm," Jungkook hums, playfully questioning Yoongi's judgment. He still thinks that he's the luckier of both of them — he's never been especially brilliant, never been notably skilled. Only achingly lonely, Jungkook thinks, remembering the early days of high school before he met the rest of the group. Most of his memories of that time are of staring at the pavement, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention — of being shoved or nudged to the side by a careless shoulder, almost worse than any intentional shove. Only after he met the rest of the boys does Jungkook feel like he really came alive.

He's a better person now for having known Yoongi.

"I guess," he allows at the end, because maybe Yoongi's at least a little lucky to have his crush returned, however questionable his taste might be in Jungkook's eyes. Any of the other boys in the group would be more impressive in some way than Jungkook. Hoseok's got his dancing, Jimin's the sweetest. Namjoon's smart, Seokjin's funny, Taehyung is alarmingly handsome.

Jungkook's all clumsy limbs. But he'll work on that.

"I guess you do have an eager and willing boyfriend right next to you, waiting to be fucked," he says with a laugh, breaking the tension of the moment.

Whatever Jungkook might think, Yoongi knows the truth of how fortunate he is. If Jungkook can't see it for himself, Yoongi will just have to see it for him. He makes a small humming sound, almost but not quite laughter, and kisses Jungkook's cheek, nudging him back. "I definitely have that going for me," he agrees, reaching for Jungkook's waist, hands skimming over his ribs, encouraging him to lie back down. Jungkook is always so pliant — so willing, as he says — and Yoongi doesn't have long to wait before he can angle himself over the younger boy, leaning down to pepper kisses along his chest. As happy as he would be to keep showering Jungkook in affection and reminders of how cherished he is, he knows that sex is, for them, just as good a way to do that as words are. Sometimes he thinks it might be more effective; he's never been that great with his words, after all. Sometimes all he wants is to bury himself deep in his boyfriend and hold him close, so connected and entwined, no one could tell them apart, glowing with sex and sweat and love.

"Eager," he murmurs into his skin. "Willing. Beautiful. Don't give me that look." He doesn't have to glance up to suspect that Jungkook's expression is less than credulous, no matter how often Yoongi's told him how stunning he is. If he has to say it a thousand times more, he will. "Sweet... and funny... and kind." He laves his tongue over a nipple, catches it gently between his teeth. "Ridiculously horny." Like he's one to talk. "Thoughtful. And enthusiastic. Good. Generous." This time, he does look up, however briefly, as his kisses move further down Jungkook's stomach, hovering just above his hip. "I could keep going, but I don't want to keep you waiting. Wanna taste you, Gguk." Wants to fuck him, too, but if he's going to do that, he has to prep him first, one hand steady at Jungkook's thigh as the other reaches blindly for the lube. His heart is thundering in his chest, almost an ache in his throat, like every inch of him is ready to burst with desire and with love.

If Jungkook could arrive through the sheer weight of emotions alone, he thinks that he'd be coming now, the flush on his body spreading and spreading with every compliment that falls from Yoongi's lips. It rushes across his skin like the spread of a fire — Jungkook can hardly breathe for his disbelief. Beautiful? Thoughtful, generous. Good. Jungkook feels himself blink in disbelief at all of it, too many years spent under the judgment of his stepfather, the words from his lips a stark contrast to those he hears now. It makes Jungkook feel more than a little undeserving of this, of how wildly happy he is. Perfect isn't a word that he uses often, but he thinks that it's well reserved for moments like this, wrapped up in the arms of the boy he's loved for so long.

"Ridiculously horny," Jungkook laughs, arching his back slightly, his hair mussed and messy against the pillowcase. "That one. That one, I — fuck, Yoongi, I want you. Want you, want you, love you."

He's too chatty for his role, but Jungkook thinks that maybe those boundaries have relaxed a little just now anyway, the both of them forthcoming with emotions that crash through in waves. He feels Yoongi's love in every kiss, in the heat of his tongue — "Ah," Jungkook gasps, his fingers curling instinctively, wanting to tug at Yoongi's hair. "Love you, I love you so much. Want you."

Jungkook doesn't say anything to the rest of the adjectives that Yoongi runs through, but he doesn't have to. When Yoongi looks up, there's a soft awe in Jungkook's expression that says more than enough. If, for just one moment, he understands how Yoongi sees him, how precious and loved he is, then that's enough. He'll spend his whole life trying to fill their world with those moments. Jungkook's spent too long not seeing himself the way Yoongi does, not loving himself like Yoongi does.

"I love you," he murmurs, opening the bottle and quickly coating his fingers with lube. He wishes he were better with his words, that he could list off occasions and incidents that would help Jungkook to believe, the way Jungkook has done for him in the past. Frankly, everything's a little hazy, though, the air thick and charged with desire, and he's not much of a talker at his most coherent. Teasing a finger in slow circles around Jungkook's asshole, he presses more kisses to his thigh, slowly, gently working his way inside. As much as he can tell that Jungkook wants this, he's not about to rush him through this. The last thing he wants is for any of this to hurt. Carefully fingering Jungkook, he kisses the base of his cock, trace his tongue along a vein. "You have me. I'm here."

It doesn't take long for Yoongi's touch to rob Jungkook of his words, head swimming in the endless waves of sensation, soft little gasps in echo to the stroke of Yoongi's fingers. There's a certain calmness that comes in these moments with Yoongi, no matter how otherwise frenzied and passionate. He blinks his eyes open, watches Yoongi as best he can, until Yoongi slides too far down Jungkook's body to be seen — and even then, Jungkook reaches out with his hands, bound though they are, and lets his fingertips rake gently through Yoongi's hair, needing every possible point of contact.

"I've got you," he whispers off the end of a moan, drawing in a deep breath and hissing as Yoongi's tongue laps against his cock, all wet heat. "I've got you. I have you." Even now, after a full day spent together, sleeping heads bobbing on shoulders to the rocking of a train, Jungkook can't help but marvel at all of it. The past few months have been nothing sort of a dream; sometimes he wonders still if he'll wake up one day and find himself as he was before, small and quiet and lonely.

It feels both like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

"Never letting you go," he huffs on a smile, fading soon into a moan as he presses himself down against the reach of Yoongi's fingers. "Fuck, you feel so good."

That, Yoongi thinks, is a pretty good reason to tie Jungkook like this more often, giving him more reach. The feeling of fingers in his hair is so good, somehow at once soothing and arousing. Those things so often seem all tangled together with Jungkook, which Yoongi figures is how things should be. He's mussed and aching with need, every soft moan and gasp sending shockwaves of desire straight through him, and still, he's more comfortable here in this unfamiliar room than he's been nearly anywhere else in a long time. There's nowhere in the world safer for him than wherever Jungkook is.

"You feel pretty fucking good yourself," he says, glancing up, eyes heavy-lidded, working another finger into him. "So hot, practically fucking yourself on my fingers like that." It won't be very long, he's pretty sure, before Jungkook is ready for him, which is a relief; he's almost painfully hard, desperate to be inside of him, longing for release and for the intimacy of burying himself deep in Jungkook. His cock practically jumps at the thought. As much as he likes to tease and get Jungkook all worked up, he has no intention of keeping him waiting for long. Or himself, for that matter, wanting a real taste of him. He lowers his head again, taking Jungkook into his mouth, moaning softly. It won't do to get him off just yet, not when Yoongi wants him coming around his cock, but he's come to love the familiar taste and weight, taking him slow and deep.

"Ah, ah Min-ah, yes, like that," Jungkook breathes, eyelids fluttering shut as Yoongi works another finger inside, stretching Jungkook. There's a slight burn that comes with the movement, but Jungkook doesn't mind — if anything, the pain feels like something tangible to hold onto, something that's proof of the two of them binding closer and closer together. Gradually, he blinks his eyes open again, watching Yoongi, his mouth agape as he watches Yoongi's lips sink over his cock. He gasps then, the breath fading into a deep moan as his heels dig against the bedsheets.

Years ago, he had wondered about physical intimacy, small and shy in the darkness of his room as he watched videos in fascination. It had all seemed so complicated, so messy and uncomfortable — Jungkook couldn't quite imagine enjoying the act itself, couldn't imagine it being any better than how things felt when he worked himself. Now he thinks he understands — with their limbs tangled up in the sheets like this, they practically feel like one.

And being close to Yoongi is so much more satisfying than anything else Jungkook's known.

"God, I don't know — don't know what I want more. Your mouth, your hands, your cock," Jungkook laughs when he manages to catch a breath, sighing as he arches off the bed, back curved as though it, too, is drawn to Yoongi through some gravitational pull. "All of it."

There's such a brightness in Jungkook's voice, a mingling of delight and desperation, that Yoongi can't help if his mouth slackens a bit, stretches into a smile instead. Even now, he's so cute. Yoongi's not sure Jungkook would entirely appreciate the sentiment, however complimentary he means it to be, so he keeps it to himself. The way his heart spills over with affection, though, he can't restrain, letting out a small, happy moan around Jungkook. Easing back, he turns his head, wipes his mouth against his arm. "All of it," he says. "Oh, you're getting all of it. Wanna be inside you so bad, Gguk-ah."

Looking up at him now, Yoongi takes him in, the messy hair, the flushed cheeks and bright eyes, the way he writhes against the sheets when Yoongi's fingers get deep enough. He twists his wrist slightly, scissors his fingers apart. "So hot like this," he murmurs encouragingly. "So good for me. Think you need another?" As much as he aches for attention, he does his best to be patient. This isn't something to rush through. It's not like they haven't hurried through it, taking whatever chances they can get, but even then, Yoongi knows the importance of prepping Jungkook thoroughly. If there's any pain to be had here, it should only be for the purpose of highlighting the pleasure. He ducks his head, nipping at Jungkook's thigh, and it's all he can do not to rock his hips against the bed, every small sound spilling from Jungkook leaving him dizzy and wanting.

If Jungkook needed it, he knows that Yoongi would take things achingly slow, denying himself however long is necessary to make sure that he can spare Jungkook any discomfort or pain. But there's an equal and opposite momentum on Jungkook's end, he thinks — a deep urge to meet Yoongi's every need, to be better, ambition seeping through even to the most intimate of moments between them. So when Yoongi asks if Jungkook needs another, he shakes his head quickly, eyes wide and bright, eager to please, wanting the closeness more than he ever worries about the consequences.

"I think I'm — I'm good, I'm ready," he insists, eyes fluttering to a close again as Yoongi's fingers brush precariously close to that spot they've both come to know well. Jungkook shudders, muscles in his body tensing until he reminds himself to relax; that however much he might want to heighten sensation for Yoongi, Yoongi will also be watching to make sure he doesn't hurt Jungkook. Any hitch in breath, any sudden jolt in Jungkook's body, these are things that might easily worry Yoongi and pull them out of the moment.

"Want you inside me," Jungkook breathes, relaxing as he opens his eyes, heavily lidded and irises blown dark. "Please."

There isn't a thing in the world Yoongi wouldn't do for Jungkook. That please, so needy and sweet, gets right under his skin, like every inch of him is pulsing with the way his own desire meets his longing to give Jungkook exactly what he wants. He almost asks again, asks if he's sure, but the way Jungkook sounds right now, he doesn't think he needs to. His eyes are dark, his cheeks flushed, and, for a moment, Yoongi's throat goes tight, vaguely overwhelmed by everything — by how beautiful Jungkook is like this, spread out for him and desperate, by how much he wants without yet getting any relief, by the headiness of knowing no one here gives a shit what they're doing, that no one's going to find or stop them. There's no need to hold back here, to be careful in case his father comes home unexpectedly or wakes up. There's just them, just this, just Jungkook.

Still, he waits, slowing the pace of his fingers, until Jungkook feels more relaxed around them, before pulling them out. However badly he might want, the last thing he intends to do is hurt Jungkook. "I love you," he murmurs, briefly stroking a hand down Jungkook's thigh, the other reaching for the lube. His breath catches at the touch of his own hand, coming out again in a shaky exhale. It doesn't do much to take the edge off, just makes him wants to be inside of Jungkook even more, head light with it as he leans forward. "Love you so much." There have been times he's wondered if he says it too much, too needy himself, too anxious to be loved back as wholeheartedly as he loves; meeting Jungkook's gaze, though, he knows that isn't the case. Even if there were such a thing as too much for love, he thinks, they both crave it too much to tire of hearing it when they feel so goddamn lucky to be loved by each other in the first place. Besides, if there's ever a time for it, it's now. Yoongi hisses between his teeth, lining himself up with Jungkook's entrance and pressing slowly inside him, his heart stuttering in his chest as the tight heat envelops him. "Fuck," he whines, leaning forward to rest his head against Jungkook's shoulder. "Oh. Fuck, feel so fucking good, Gguk."

Jungkook nearly forgets to breathe as Yoongi presses inside — slow, tortuously slow, but then he's there and the two of them are together, the two of them at rest as one. Shifting to reach Yoongi is difficult, but Jungkook manages somehow to skate his lips against Yoongi's cheek. The weight of Yoongi's forehead against his shoulder is comforting, like Jungkook is reliable, like Jungkook is there for no other reason than to be Yoongi's. Love you so much, the words echo in Jungkook's ears, and somehow it's both hard to believe and the most obvious truth at once. Every touch of Yoongi's seems steeped in it, this adoration that shields Jungkook from all other thought.

"Love you," Jungkook mumbles, the words slipping out between moans, little staccatos in the midst of their melody. "Love you, love you, love you."

And Yoongi will undoubtedly be careful with Jungkook, as he always is, never wanting there to be any unnecessary pain. But even with all the reassurance in the world, and with the luxury of all the time they suddenly have on their hands, still Jungkook remains impatient to please and eager to feel. He doesn't wait for his body to fully acclimate, whimpering as he tries to pivot his hips and drive himself further down on Yoongi's cock. Distantly, Jungkook wonders how desperate he must look, his throat already dry for the way he's breathing heavily between parted lips, his gaze slightly unfocused. "Fuck me," Jungkook gasps, voice reedy — he understands why they call this making love. "Yoongi-ah, fuck me, love me."

The way Jungkook presses down against him draws a sharp hiss from Yoongi. That in itself is hard to resist, but when he hears those words in his ear, it's all he can do to hold back a moment longer. Restraining himself to small, shallow thrusts takes almost more will power than he has, when all he wants is to give Jungkook what he wants, to drive into Jungkook again and again, hard and deep and fast, until the younger boy is completely wrecked around his cock.

But if he does that right away, he's pretty sure he'll come too fast. Besides, he wants to enjoy this a little longer, propping himself up a bit to get a better look at Jungkook — who, admittedly, already looks pretty damn wrecked. Irises blown dark and sweat on his brow, he's desperately beautiful as Yoongi runs a hand along his hip. He hooks it beneath Jungkook's thigh, tugging him closer, shifting the angle. "Thought I was the one in charge," he says, a low, teasing growl. Fuck, he looks good like this, practically begging for more. Yoongi relents a little, fucking him deeper, as much for himself as for Jungkook's sake. "Want me to fuck you? Like this? Or do you want it harder?" He's pretty sure he could answer that himself, and, frankly, he's not sure he can keep up the tease for long anyway, aching to go faster. Still, he likes to hear it from Jungkook himself, likes the way he looks when he begs, needy and whining and gorgeous. Besides, he knows Jungkook gets off on this anyway, that he likes being controlled as much as Yoongi likes being in control. It's just another of the infinite ways they complement each other, a matching set with pieces made to fit, interlocked and whole only when united. Sure that Jungkook will keep his leg hooked around Yoongi on his own, he lets go, smoothing his hand along Jungkook's chest to tweak his nipple instead. "Faster?"

Even though on some level, Jungkook knows that Yoongi is teasing, he can't help the deep flush that spreads across his cheeks when Yoongi reprimands him for being so needy. For trying to give direction when he should be submitting. And when Yoongi gives the reminder, voice low and gravelly, Jungkook can't help the whine that slips through his lips, nails dragging against Yoongi's skin as Jungkook twists, wanting to feel closer, closer, closer. Wanting to feel Yoongi's growl reverberate through his body.

"I — want whatever you want," Jungkook pants, even though the keen of his voice makes it clear what he wants, shivering as Yoongi starts to drive himself deeper and faster. "I — oh, fuck, mm." Jungkook bites down harshly on his lip, and even if he doesn't give a single word of direction, Jungkook's pretty sure that Yoongi knows exactly what he wants. His body betrays him, shuddering as Yoongi drives himself in deeper, faster, and Jungkook whines as he pivots his hips to make for easier access. The dichotomy is a heady one, Yoongi filling him full to burst, but Jungkook's cock going untouched and neglected, until even the slightest brush of the tip against Yoongi's abdomen makes Jungkook cry out, head falling back against the pillow.

"Y-yes," he stammers, another gasp slipping free as Yoongi pinches his nipple. "Yes, Yoongi, fuck. You feel so good, so good, love how you use me, s'everything I want—"

Jungkook bites the inside of his cheek again, wondering if he's said too much. Most of the time, he finds that silence is far too high of a bar for him to meet, but he does his best now, blinking and staring up at Yoongi's gaze. He swears that he can practically feel the brush of Yoongi's gaze against his skin.

He can hardly look away. Jungkook is so utterly stunning like this, eyes bright and dark at once, skin rosy as he trembles beneath Yoongi. He sounds half-delirious with desire, and that in itself would be enjoyable, but what he says gets under Yoongi's skin, too. Even as Jungkook hastens to submit, Yoongi finds that only makes him want all the more to give him exactly what he's longing for. He's practically shaking himself, fucking Jungkook faster, driving in deeper, the air heavy with the sound of skin against skin and the way they both gasp for breath. He rests a hand at Jungkook's waist, grips him tight enough he thinks he might leave his fingerprints burned into his skin.

"Such a good boy," he groans. "Taking me so good. You feel — fuck, Gguk, like you were fucking made for me." It's not like he has anyone else to compare him to, not like Yoongi really wants to have any grounds for comparison, but, god, he can't imagine anyone else could feel like this. Nothing could be better than the way they fit together or all the beautiful little sounds Jungkook makes. Every mewl, every keening cry, sends sparks dancing across Yoongi's skin, a shiver down his spine. How anyone can sound so gorgeous, he doesn't know, but he loves it, loves angling his hips just so to pull another whine from Jungkook or dragging his nails along Jungkook's thigh for a gasp, until he's learned how to play him like the best instrument Yoongi's ever known.

But no matter how intensely Yoongi might play at times, he knows he won't get anywhere if he doesn't take care of his instruments, and nothing and no one could be as precious to him as Jungkook is. He lets go of Jungkook's waist, lifting his hand to smooth his knuckles over Jungkook's cheek where he can see the faint indentation that tells him what the younger is doing. "No biting," he pants, letting his hand trail down to rest against Jungkook's throat. He doesn't apply any pressure, doesn't dare try until he's done some kind of research to learn how to do it safely, but he hopes that the very suggestion he might choke Jungkook will be enough for now. "I like hearing you."

Hearing Yoongi describe Jungkook as being made for him nearly brings Jungkook to the point of tears again. He's sure that some people might consider it reductive for Jungkook to be so eager to consider himself shaped around another person, but to Jungkook, there could be nothing greater than to have been made to love someone, to be the perfect counterpart to someone he's lucky enough to spend the majority of his life with. "Made for you," Jungkook breathes in acknowledgement, voice slightly broken as he hangs onto Yoongi like his life depends on it.

Maybe in some ways, it does.

Even with Yoongi's prompting, it takes Jungkook a moment to realize how he's fallen back on habits, biting down on his cheek to try and contain any noise that might give them away. Finding time for intimacy hasn't been all that difficult — they're both far too determined to let curfews and guardians hold them back — but it's always been stolen time, stolen space, a vague sense of getting away with something that wouldn't be welcome if they were to be discovered. Here, Jungkook remembers that there isn't a single soul who would bother to stop them. Here, the space is designed specifically for people like them, lovers seeking refuge and escape.

So he lets himself go. Sometimes his whimpers are quiet and overwhelmed, and sometimes he can't hold himself back from a cry when Yoongi hits just the right spot, their bodies in sync, no space left between them at all. "Feels so good, love it when you fuck me, your hands on me, ah—" Jungkook gasps, maintaining eye contact with Yoongi as he tilts his head just so, pushing his neck against Yoongi's hand, ceding control. Yoongi is the very air Jungkook breathes. "Close, I'm close."

Sometimes Yoongi doesn't quite understand why Jungkook trusts him so much. He doesn't know what he's ever done to prove he's worth trusting like this. Still, the fact remains that Jungkook does, and it's so good, so pure, so loving that Yoongi is overwhelmed by it. Jungkook doesn't just accept or like the hand at his throat; he presses into it, as eager for this as for anything else, and Yoongi vows — albeit very quickly and distractedly — to do all the research he can very soon, to make sure he can choke Jungkook properly later without hurting him.

For now, thumb stroking against Jungkook's throat, he ducks forward to press a kiss to his forehead. "Made for me," he says again. He's too far gone to clock why that seems to have struck a chord with Jungkook, but not enough to miss that it did, and, god, he means it. Nothing feels as good or as right as this, the way they're tangled together, as inseparable physically as they are in their souls. They fit together in a way he's pretty sure people rarely do, and, anyway, he doesn't care if fucking everyone finds this eventually; the fact remains that there's something impossibly special about what they have.

He's starting to tremble himself, breath falling in heavy pants and groans, knowing he's close, too, but he's not about to stop before they both come. He could reach down and stroke Jungkook, get him off that much faster, but he doesn't want to let go of his neck, and anyway, he's kind of curious if Jungkook will come largely untouched. "Come for me," he murmurs, hips crashing against Jungkook's. "So good, all mine, you're mine." He's said a thousand times that he belongs to Jungkook, heard the same in return, but he's not sure he's ever followed that through to its logical conclusion aloud — that Jungkook belongs to him. That he's his. Something about the very idea sparks something in him, strikes a nerve, adding to the increasing pressure running down his spine, tugging at his gut. They've both spent too long without someone to belong to or anyone who belongs to them. How lucky they are, he thinks, gazing down at Jungkook, to have each other. "So close, Gguk. Wanna feel you come for me."

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