Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Seokjin’s feeling himself. 

He’s chosen his favorite suit — a deep navy, custom-made Gucci that hugs his frame in all the best spots, his hair is slicked back and he has his makeup done; Seokjin’s looking his best right now. 

His confidence is at an all-time high, especially with how this isn’t the first time Seokjin’s been here. He has visited this house plenty of times before, but it was usually with work in mind and a notepad in hand.

But today, it’s different.

Yoongi had signed the contract a few weeks prior, making the estate his. Before he even set the pen on the paper, Yoongi had invited Seokjin for a home-warming party with little to no details, as if the words just slipped out at that moment. Seokjin had pestered Yoongi for more information, as in, how many people would be there, what should he wear, is it bad if he’s gonna wear speedos with nothing else. 

But Yoongi didn’t give him a concrete answer, just told him to ‘be hot,’ as if Seokjin isn’t always. The producer may have coyly added a predilection for his suits. 

The contracting signing went without a hitch in the end; it only left Seokjin with a bit of confusion regarding the party. No point worrying about it now as he is currently on his way to Yoongi’s place with a congratulatory basket on the shotgun seat. 

He wonders about the house and what Yoongi had done to it — he knows the younger would have repurposed the art room into something more appropriate, but he’s thinking about decoration as a whole.

Did Yoongi change the color theme of the interior or did he keep it? Does he have any cute, quirky decorations? Maybe cute figurines of a character that he particularly enjoys? Like the bear Kumamon that he possesses the underwear off?

That last bit is entirely on Taehyung, who when learned that Min Yoongi might also be into his brother, has proven his spot as a devoted fan of the musician by spilling out miscellaneous facts one after another. 

Seokjin slightly wonders why Yoongi owns so many Kumamon boxers — so much so that he only wears them. He also wonders why the hell Yoongi had this fact shared with millions of people in the first place.

As Seokjin pulls up in the familiar driveway, he is surprised to see how tame the place looks. He’s had his fair share of parties, and when one is hosted in Bel Air, he expects something wilder. At the back of his mind, Seokjin wonders if Yoongi is the type who acts stone-cold but parties hard. However, there’s no music coming out of speakers, no obnoxious neon lights hanging around like a stage; just the house that Yoongi purchased, sitting there serenely and waving Seokjin closer.

Maybe it’s a smaller party of sorts, close friends only, kinda thing. But then that would mean they’re serious about each other — because you don’t bring your real estate agent slash love interest to this type of gathering, right? 

To be frank, his relationship with Yoongi is a blur right now — they text each other frequently; ever since the picnic, they have started talking more. It becomes an everyday occurrence, receiving texts from Yoongi, who tends to send him pictures of his current whereabouts. The images are usually of anything besides him: La Croix cans, chopsticks, cups of coffee, keyboards, and a sofa. Very, very, very occasionally, Yoongi would send him a selfie (!). 

For some reason, it was always a pair of the same frame: one with a smile, one with a more serious, almost pouty, look. And that absolutely did not manage to stamp a silly smile upon Seokjin’s face every damn time.

Seokjin has received three of those at this point, and if he quietly saved them into his phone, then that’s no one's business. Yup, he needs pictures for Yoongi’s contact in his phone — let’s go with that.

He gets closer and closer to Yoongi’s house and parks in the lane neatly. The thoughts concerning his relationship have somewhat dampened his mood, and Seokjin gets out of his car with a sigh, not before taking a look at himself in the rear mirror and wink out of instinct. 

The front door is made of glass, but the sheer curtain prevents him from having a complete look of what's inside, and from what he can see — the decorations remain the same. 

One hand holding the basket, Seokjin rings the bell with the other as a light, cheerful melody echoes across the house.

Yoongi doesn’t take long to come out, his fingers scrambling to unlock the door and smiling when he sees Seokjin. 

Fuck, he looks adorable; Seokjin’s breath hitches. He doesn’t want to be rude; however, it’s impossible to not give Yoongi a once over — then another one because he looks like an actual angel.

His lips and cheeks are tinted pink, while his dark locks are lightly curled, framing his face well. He’s dressed in a white t-shirt that’s probably triple his size and beige jeans that are rolled up to his ankles.

He looks comfortable, and Seokjin’s in a three-piece suit right now. The contrast is slightly jarring, but he pushes the thought at the back of his head as he realizes that Yoongi’s ears are adorned with hoops, per usual. 

There is, however, a dangling earring on the left side that moves along whenever he cocks his head — which is rather often, and Seokjin finds himself fixated on the glittering silver as Yoongi begins to speak.

“Hey hyung.” Yoongi greets affectionately, bringing a smile to Seokjin’s face. 

“Hey, sweet potato cake.” Seokjin replies, bringing the basket to Yoongi, who takes it with a small ‘o’ forming on his lips. 

“You shouldn’t have — and that’s the worst nickname I’ve heard yet.” 

Seokjin shrugs while leaning down, puffing one side of his cheeks. Yoongi looks away and mumbles grumpily, but he eventually pecks Seokjin’s cheeks anyway. 

“So the party… no one’s here yet, huh.” Seokjin asks, giving the bouquet to Yoongi, who gives him a mischievous look as he receives the flowers. 

“Of course not.”

That’s a puzzling statement, and it seems to show on Seokjin’s face as Yoongi questions.

“Did you think there’ll be an actual party?”

It's Seokjin’s turn to give Yoongi an incredulous look. 

“Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“No— you—" Yoongi says, fingers rubbing his temple. Seokjin just raises an eyebrow. 

He continues, “I thought you’d get the hint? Like— I don’t have friends here and I’m asking you over because…?”

It’s like someone just turned on the light switch to his brain, and Seokjin starts connecting the dots. He’s technically Yoongi’s realtor, and they have a closer relationship than most agents with their customers, so—

“Ah, you wanted to show the house off, huh? Must be pretty lonely, living alone.” he concludes, hands clasping together in anticipation. To his surprise, Yoongi raises an eyebrow with a small smirk on the corner of his lips. Seokjin feels slightly self-conscious under the gaze he’s being given right now “...No?”

“Nah,” Yoongi shakes his head, opening the door wider, and gestures to Seokjin to get in.

“Then what is it exactly that I'm here for?” Seokjin asks, more confused than ever. They both sit on the sofas as Yoongi just heaves a small sigh in response, lips still curling. He places the basket on the coffee table, and Seokjin tears his eyes away from Yoongi’s fingers playing with the wrapping absent-mindedly.

“Hyung… has it ever crossed your mind what we could be doing in an empty house — alone?”

Oh.

Oh.

“Oh shit, you wanna hook up.”

Yoongi nods. 

“But why a housewarming party?”

“I didn’t wanna say it outright.”

Makes sense but then, “why did you ask me to wear something formal?”

Yoongi smiles sheepishly. 

“You look hot in formal.”

Seokjin sputters at the confession, trying to find words to reply before realizing that he’s speechless. 

Usually, he’d probably pride himself on his ability to read social cues, but in this instance, he’s surprised to not have caught on. He laughs at the Seokjin 15 minutes prior, confident and all ready to charm Yoongi’s friends. 

If he had paid more attention to the implications, then he probably wouldn't be as taken aback. But it’s not easy when a certain somebody makes it hard to think properly — though he shakes the thought away. 

“So… we’re doing this, huh?”

“I mean, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to — I just thought we could meet up and just chill but oh fuck like not in that way—"

Seokjin laughs out loud. Gosh, he’s adorable. 

“Yeah, no, don’t worry. I’m just… wondering, I guess,” Seokjin says, and at the corner of his eyes, he sees Yoongi leaning closer, “I’m just wondering if this is a sex only kinda thing.”

He hears Yoongi take a sharp breath.

“Do you,” Yoongi gulps, “do you want to talk right now? About us?” 

Seokjin doesn’t know — does he? Hasn’t he been obvious enough? The ball is in Yoongi’s court — he’d thrown it there during their picnic. 

“I don’t mind if you want to take some time and think about it, Yoongi-yah — I already made it clear you know?” Seokjin answers, and he opts to be transparent because god knows they’ve already had a fair share of misunderstandings. “I like you, and I'm willing to pursue a relationship — if you’ll have me.” 

He sees Yoongi open his mouth — then closes it — before opening it again. He looks vaguely similar to a fish’s breathing, and Seokjin doesn’t know what to do with this information.

It feels like a millennium has passed before Yoongi actually speaks up. 

“I mean — there’s not much to say on my part too, to be honest.” Yoongi’s hands are fidgeting, teeth biting his lips ever so often while his eyes are cast downwards, pupils shaking as he forms each word. He seems nervous out of his mind — and Seokjin can’t stop staring. It’s the first time he’s seen Yoongi this flustered. “So, well, I like you, if you didn’t like — catch it or anything. Well, maybe you didn’t because you did majority of talking during the picnic—”

Yeah, the picnic. They did move their lips a lot, but only when their mouths were pressed against each other. 

Yoongi continues, “I like it when we kiss, when we hold hands, when you tell me the lamest puns ever and you know, and, well—” he looks to Seokjin, “you, as a whole. I like you a lot.”

Seokjin’s heart is beating against his ribcage, the sound so loud in his ears that he wonders if Yoongi can hear it too. He feels every syllable that Yoongi uttered, sending a flush up to his face, burning his skin. 

“Hyung, say something.” he feels Yoongi nudging his knee, and before Seokjin can even think of what to say, the word “something” is already out of his lips, resulting in a resigned sigh from Yoongi.

“So…” Seokjin tests the words on his tongue, “we’re… technically dating, right?” 

Yoongi nods, “yes, yes we are.”

Seokjin hums, letting the word soak into his skin. Boyfriends, huh.

He turns to Yoongi, back hunched and face burning. Sensing the eyes on him, Yoongi looks up and their gazes meet. 

“Can I—”

“Hyung, you—”

Yoongi steps down, letting Seokjin speak his mind first. 

Seokjin gulps, “Can I kiss you?” 

Yoongi grins and nods, and they move closer and closer together until there’s no distance between them and Seokjin’s lips are on Yoongi’s. This isn’t the first time they’ve kissed — but it’s so much more intimate than the others. 

Perhaps it’s because they’re in Yoongi’s house right now; perhaps it's because they’ve both come to terms with their feelings.

The kiss moves languidly; none of them bothers to take the lead and just revels in the moment. Slowly, Yoongi makes his way onto Seokjin’s lap, their mouths still glued together, only pulling apart from lack of oxygen. 

Seokjin lets his hands rest on Yoongi’s waist that’s slightly curved in — a perfect fit for his hold. At the back of his mind, Seokjin wonders if it’s because they’re made for each other — cheesy, but at least he’s not lactose intolerant.

Yoongi pulls away properly this time, his chest heaving and mouth taking in oxygen greedily. Seokjin looks at him, and wow. 

The details of Yoongi’s face will be forever burned into his memory. His cheeks, puffed up and blushing pink, his lips, bitten and glistening with saliva, his hair, disheveled and messy — creating a profile that’s glowing and illuminated. 

Seokjin subconsciously wets his own lips, and Yoongi’s eyes follow the movement.

“The night’s still young,” Seokjin says, and Yoongi cocks his head in confusion, the earring dangling, “we can do anything tonight if you want to.”

“But what about you, hyung? What did you think we’d do?” Yoongi says as he leans in again, arms placed on Seokjin’s shoulders. 

“I thought you’d give me a house tour, to be honest.”

Yoongi giggles against his jawline; the vibration tickles. 

“We can do that too — though I didn't renovate anywhere except for the hobby room.”

“Ah, did you make it into your studio?”

Yoongi nods as a reply, his mouth hovering on Seokjin’s neck and sucking lightly, careful to not make a mark. “We can do both if you want to. The ‘anything’ and go look at my studio”, smirking cheekily.

It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, so Seokjin agrees and lets Yoongi lead the way. Yoongi doesn’t get off of him, though, proceeding to cling onto Seokjin like a vice as he takes them both to the studio. 

“F-fuck, you’re lucky that Jungkook makes me go to the gym,” Seokjin huffs, arms holding Yoongi’s body, “or else I wouldn’t be able to carry you.”

Yoongi buries his head into Seokjin’s neck, “well, sue me for wanting to be close to my boyfriend.”

That has a nice ring to it and Seokjin tries to not let the smile show on his face — but fails miserably. Yoongi’s smiling too, and fuck, he should really let Jungkook drag him to the gym more often.

With a grunt, Seokjin lets Yoongi down. He only pouts slightly but complies anyway.

They hold hands when they get to Yoongi’s studio, though, and Seokjin’s reminded of the last time they were here. Their hands were also touching, though in different situations. 

Yoongi punches the code to his studio, and Seokjin looks away. “You know, once I forgot the passcode to my studio back in Seoul and locked myself out for two whole days,” he comments, still looking rather unamused at the memory. Seokjin chuckled at his endearing new boyfriend. 

When he’s dragged into the studio, he notices the room’s considerably darker. The walls are lined with soundproof foam and painted dark blue. A table is situated in the center of the room with an iMac sitting atop. Speakers and instruments of all shapes and sizes clutter the room, and it looks cozy but still incredibly neat and organized.

When Seokjin stares down at Yoongi, the younger has this look in his eyes that shows just how proud he is of the setup. Seokjin can’t comment about functionality because he doesn't know anything about this stuff, but the whole place looks Yoongi enough that he’s in love with it. He will have to ask the man to guide-tour him around all this music gear and show him working on a song someday, which will probably melt his own heart like butter. 

♡

Yoongi takes him for a tour of the property as if Seokjin doesn’t remember the house’s floor plan like the back of his hand. It’s interesting to see what he’s done to the place, as even though Yoongi keeps most of the original furniture, he’s already started putting knickknacks here and there — and the biggest piece of decoration yet is a painting that Namjoon gave him. Yoongi hangs it in the middle of the hallway, letting it be the center of attention.

They make their way back to the kitchen, and Yoongi’s making sandwiches for both of them. Seokjin is ordered to prepare a cheese platter — which should be easy, but the anticipation about the rest of the evening makes his fingers shake as they cut the cheese up.

They’ve toured the house, so they will probably do the ‘anything’ next. 

Seokjin’s excited, obviously, but he’s on edge. This is their first time together — and he wants it to be romantic and memorable. Usually, Seokjin would make a plan for this, meticulously mapping out each step to ensure maximum romance — but he doesn’t have the luxury to do so since his Yoongi-infatuated brain failed him, and now he is gonna have to improvise.

Yoongi cuts the ham with the precision that makes Seokjin hot everywhere — the way he concentrates on getting the pieces close in shape, the way his lips keep darting out every so often, the way his eyebrows pinch in a determination that makes him look like he’s scowling.

And that’s just his face. Yoongi’s forearms are thick, the skin considerably paler than Seokjin’s. His fingers work speedily, applying sauces to the bread and putting fillings in. Seokjin is particularly mesmerized by the way each digit is thick — and he wonders how they’d feel wrapped around his — 

Head out of the gutter!

His nerves are jittery as they both sit on the bar, trying some cheese and wine while taking bites of the sandwiches. His head is running a marathon, his heart is pounding — so much so that the food doesn’t really taste like anything in his mouth.

“Hyung?” Yoongi asks Seokjin mid-sip, “are you feeling alright?”

Seokjin dramatically holds a piece of cheese up in the air and waits for the puzzled look. “This piece of cheese looks really optimistic about tonight, don’t you think?” Seokjin proceeds with his plan confidently.

“...uh?” Yoongi looks confused.

“Because it’s gouda brie a great evening.”

Yoongi scrunches his face in displeasure — but Seokjin can’t stop now, not when the dam’s been opened.

“You know, if I were a piece of cheese, what kind of song would I sing?” He follows almost immediately.

“Hyung…” Yoongi preemptively scowls.

“R & Brie! Get it? R&B? Yoongi-yah, you got it right?”

Yoongi buries his face in his hands, elbows propped up to the bar. He’s in the middle of rubbing his temples before Seokjin continues.

“Why did the cheddar cheese decide to go to the gym?”

Yoongi groans; his hands move to his ears but Seokjin inches his barstool closer and peels away the covered ear. “To get shredded. Haha, get it? The cheese gets shredded?” 

Yoongi groans again, but his body falls onto Seokjin’s this time. In this position, they seem like they’re cuddling very uncomfortably, both sitting on swivel stools that make them unstable. 

“What’s with you and… uh… all these cheese puns?” Yoongi asks, his tone light. 

Seokjin doesn’t know how to reply suitably, so he just tells the truth, “I'm nervous, I guess.”

That gets Yoongi to look at him quizzically. “What are you so nervous for?”

Seokjin blushes, ears heating, “you— me, now?” 

“Us— oh, oh.” 

Yoongi seems to get the idea, so Seokjin just nods. The younger seems unfazed, though, just throwing Seokjin a look with a dark glint in his eyes — and Seokjin can’t be stopped. 

“Why did the shredded cheddar cheese get mad when the teacher gave him an F on the test?” 

“Hyung… please — “

“Because he was unfairly grated.” 

Seokjin answers himself, a small giggle escaping his lips that only serves to irritate Yoongi. What he doesn't anticipate is for Yoongi to clash their mouths together, pulling him in for yet another kiss. 

They’re both a bit tipsy from the wine, and so the kiss is more teeth than tongue, less comfortable than before. But Yoongi is not kissing him for the sake of doing so; he’s kissing Seokjin to shut him up.

To be honest, he wouldn’t mind running his mouth if Yoongi’s solution will always be to kiss the fuck out of him. It’ll be encouraged, even.

Their tongues move messily against each other this time, spit dribbles from both their mouths but no one’s making an effort to try and contain it. Seokjin places his hands on the side of Yoongi’s body, feeling how the soft skin feels under his touch. 

“I swear to god, if you don’t stop with the cheese puns and fuck me over this kitchen counter I’m gonna lose my marbles.” Yoongi concludes, throwing a challenging look in his way while his fingers trail the dip of the marble counter.

Aaaaand, that’s it. Seokjin realizes he is truly and fully heads over heels for Yoongi. A hundred percent. He’s a goner. All it took was one clever pun from the younger and he’s done for. 

“I think I'm in love with you.” Seokjin says, unblinking, tone as serious as it can be. Yoongi chokes on his own spit in surprise, hand is still on Seokjin’s suit vest, and he dexterously unbuttons it one by one before pulling it off of him entirely. 

He doesn’t reply to Seokjin’s confession, but his cheeks are crimson, and Seokjin deems that an answer enough. Before long, his tie is loosened and tossed to the floor, and his dress shirt is also unbuttoned, but only to the second button, showing off the right amount of skin. Seokjin folds the cuffs to his forearms, and Yoongi’s eyes follow the movement.

“Like what you see?” Seokjin asks.

Yoongi rolls his eyes but quickly locks them back to his own with a determined gaze.

“I want you to fuck me on the counter.” Yoongi says unpromptedly and with a resolution that makes Seokjin stutter.

“Excuse me?” he asks, half because he still doesn’t believe his ears, the other half’s because he wants to hear it again.

“Fuck me. On the counter.” Yoongi repeats what at first was just a witty pun, taps on the slab and on Seokjin’s arm, and oh, he gets the hint. 

Hands to Yoongi’s bottom, he lifts the younger up and proceeds to place him on top of the counter. He takes the producer’s lower lip in between his teeth and licks it teasingly. Wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist, he deepens the kiss, quickly fastening the pace, and is rewarded by a low moan from the younger.

“Fuck me until I’m reduced to a mouthful of marbles,” Yoongi winks, his legs wrapping around Seokjin’s waist, pulling him closer. And Seokjin had never thought a pun could turn him on.

“You’re insufferable.” He utters; the breathless tone of his voice gives away how hard he is right now.

“We’re both insufferable.” Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Damn, you’re right,” Seokjin grins, “we have so much in common. Shall we go on a date?” 

To which Yoongi heaves a sigh in response, though there’s a smile on his face. 

“Maybe, if you fuck me good enough.”

“Is that a challenge? Because I’d let you know, my dick game is so strong that it could lift—" before Seokjin can finish his sentence, Yoongi is already groaning — from frustration, presumably, and he covers Seokjin’s mouth with his hand, making it impossible for him to get a word out.

Seokjin tries to mumble “more than Jungkook can” to do his dick game justice, but the sound is muffled by the hold — and he can’t tell if Yoongi’s heard him. 

Until he’s sure that Seokjin’s not going to run his mouth, Yoongi releases his hands and pushes them onto the surface. His body wiggles imperceptibly — as if he’s getting used to the material under him.

Yoongi undresses quickly, and wow, he’s really not kidding about wanting to be fucked on the counter, huh? Seokjin doesn’t really mind — but the desperation that he exudes piques Seokjin’s interest.

“Why are you so adamant about fucking in the kitchen?” he inquires, unbuttoning his dress shirt — but Yoongi’s hand stops him. When Seokjin looks up, his only thought is: oh shit, skin — as Yoongi’s taken his shirt off, the fabric thrown somewhere on the floor that they both can’t be bothered to know where right now.

“One, leave that on, you look hot and I want you to fuck me in this.” he raises an eyebrow at the statement, but lets go of the buttons anyway, “two, I thought about it, you know.”

“It? What did you think about?”

“You. Fucking me. On the counter. On this counter,” Seokjin inhales sharply, but Yoongi continues. “Geez, the first time we met, and you were going on and on about the Calabasas marble—"

“Calacatta—"

“Same thing. Anyway, I wanted you to fuck me on the marble while your mouth was going miles per hour probably about something like how they cut this shit up.”

Seokjin laughs at the brazen confession. 

“Was that why you were so out of it that day? Spacing out left and right?”

Yoongi nods, grinding himself against Seokjin as his legs are still gripping him tightly. His jeans are still on but unbuttoned, hanging loosely at the dainty waist, and it takes everything in Seokjin to not shove it down like a man with no etiquette concerning fucking his pretty boyfriend (it sounds so right in his head) in the kitchen.

“Yeah— yeah, fuck.” Seokjin breathes out.

Yoongi’s rutting against him now; the pace is determined as it quickens. 

“Is that why you wanted me to wear the suit? So you can know what it would’ve been like if I bent you over and fuck you right here on that day?”

Yoongi groans at that, throwing his body back onto the surface and shivering slightly as the chills must have gotten to him. The white marble’s sole purpose in life is to compliment Yoongi’s skin, apparently, because Seokjin thinks that no paintings can even come close to the sight of Yoongi lying in front of him like this. 

Seokjin lets his eyes wander, taking in how pink Yoongi really is. His face, his elbows, his nipples-

“God,” Seokjin mumbles, hands fumbling to unzip his pants, “you look amazing.”

Yoongi giggles, fingers tugging impatiently at Seokjin’s waistband. Seokjin returns the action by removing his belt and shimmying down his pants just a little, leaving it on per request.

“Hurry, hyung.” Yoongi whines, jutting his lips out meanwhile, and Seokjin’s damn near desperate right now. “Been waiting too long for this.” 

Yoongi slips his fingers into Seokjin’s boxers, and the coldness of his hand makes Seokjin let out a small yelp. His cock is hot — far too hot, as it’s been confined, and wow , Yoongi really knows what he’s doing.

“Wait, wait— the lube and condoms—"

Yoongi points to a drawer, and Seokjin opens it quickly.

“Why would you leave your lube here?” he questions, unable to mask the amusement in his tone. Yoongi’s glare answers nothing, though, so Seokjin just sulkily pulls Yoongi’s jeans down. How his trunks manage to inadvertently (but absolutely welcomingly) accompany the jeans a bit as they are dragged down feels like a blessing from the gods. No Kumamon this time, though.

Yoongi lifts his hips up to aid the removal, and the first thing Seokjin notices is pink.

More pink. Seokjin's so happy that pink is his favorite color because Yoongi is pink all over, and he is trying really hard not to ogle at Yoongi’s dick like a creep.

He fails anyway.

Yoongi’s dick is a little less than the average size, that’s for sure — but somehow, it fits him as a whole, and Seokjin can’t even complain. He feels his cock twitch the more he looks at Yoongi, and he notices it, as evident by the grin on his lips. It's embarrassing enough considering that only the tip is visible above his trunks, but Yoongi catches sight of it eventually.

Throwing the pants to the floor, Seokjin motions to Yoongi’s dick as if he’s telepathic, and Yoongi knows exactly what he’s asking for. 

“What?” Yoongi cocks his head to one side, smirking. Somehow he thinks Yoongi knows what he's asking for.

“Can I suck you off?” Seokjin asks, fluttering his eyelashes comically, making Yoongi laugh, nodding his head.

And down he goes.

“I’m not trying to shame you or anything— but wow.” Seokjin sighs, now sliding down the last piece of clothing in front of him, pressing a kiss to the leaking tip that has Yoongi shivering. “You’re really small, huh?”

“But what if I want you to shame me and everything?” Yoongi giggles, thrusting his hips upwards so that his cock presses slightly to Seokjin’s cheek. 

“Maybe we can do that on another day, how about we make love on this Calacatta marble that you paid 100k for?”

“Dollars?”

“Yeah.”

“This is a scam,” Yoongi growls, pushing his body up using his elbows, “who the fuck would pay that much for counters?”

“You did.” Seokjin replies.

“Yeah,” Yoongi sighs with the realization, “I did, didn’t I?”

Seokjin only nods, determined to get Yoongi blown off his feet. He licks a strip up his cock, and Yoongi lets out a shuddering breath. His left hand reaches out and makes contact with Seokjin’s cheeks, then moves it to brush hair out of his face.

He mutters thanks before taking Yoongi’s cock in his mouth. 

The slide is easy and slippery; the bitter yet refreshing taste of semen dances on his tongue. He laps up Yoongi’s cock, tongue flicking the sides and Yoongi mewls sweetly under him, his knees buckling while his hips thrusting upwards. 

In a way, Yoongi’s fucking his mouth — but the size of his cock doesn’t strain Seokjin’s throat one bit, so he relaxes as Yoongi inserts himself in his mouth. 

Seokjin purses his lips and sucks softly, knowing that Yoongi would feel good. He proceeds to open his mouth a little and brushes his moist lower lip against Yoongi’s testicles while still keeping the length entirely inside his mouth. 

He lets himself slide all the way down till the tip of the younger’s dick touches his soft palate and stays still; the bold move renders the younger completely restless, breath hitching and his body shivering aggressively.

Seokjin pulls away with a pop, the sound loud in his ears and makes Yoongi shoot his eyes open. He stands up and hovers over Yoongi’s body, lips parting and showing Yoongi the insides of his mouth: a concoction of liquids ranging from spit and precome. 

Yoongi opens his mouth and accepts it greedily, moaning into the kiss. He sucks it out of Seokjin’s mouth, lapping at the corners where there are stray strings of spit — and the act sends electricity straight down to his dick. 

“My chest,” Yoongi takes both of Seokjin’s hands and directs them to his pecs as he thrusts his hips, cock rubbing against Seokjin’s open flies as a means of relief, “‘s sensitive.”

They stop kissing momentarily so Seokjin can divert all of his attention to playing with Yoongi’s nipples. He inches towards Yoongi’s nipples, the buds erecting from the gesture, and Yoongi mewls sweetly when they’re played with, legs kicking beside Seokjin before they’re calm enough to just wrap around his waist. He rolls them in his hands before latching his mouth on the right one while his fingers pinch the other. 

Seokjin’s tongue presses against the nub before licking it. He then shoves his lips onto the areola and sucks, sucks until Yoongi is again vibrating from pleasure, but his hands keep Seokjin’s head in place, chest pushing upwards for more. It gratifies Seokjin to see how this nipple protrudes so much more than the one he played with his fingers.

As if Yoongi’s getting the same idea, he moves Seokjin’s head to his left nipple, eyes staring down expectantly as Seokjin does it all over again. He bites on the bud this time, and Yoongi yelps, his hold tightening on Seokjin. 

He sucks Yoongi’s nipple with vigor, slightly surprised by how sensitive the younger is, but he’s happy that Yoongi’s enjoying it. By the time Seokjin pulls away, Yoongi’s chest looks like it’s been devoured, areolas borderline red and nipples popping out obscenely. He has half a mind to kiss Yoongi, but both his hands are on the nipples and pulling on them.

“Fuck me.” Yoongi says into the kiss, his mouth moves to Seokjin’s neck and laps at the skin. 

“Yeah,” Seokjin complies, “yeah, I will.”

Yoongi pushes back, his legs now open, and he reaches for the lube. Seokjin automatically follows, grabbing the condom and giving his dick some well-deserved strokes.

Yoongi’s body is entirely on the counter now that he's trying to prep himself. His fingers are thick, Seokjin’s noticed, and they are slathered in lube before two of them come prodding at Yoongi’s hole. 

“Already fingered myself, but it’s been a couple of hours,” Yoongi sighs, “and you spent too much time on all those cheesy puns and shit.”

Seokjin has to bite back the urge to call him out on that. It wasn’t shit, thank you very much. But he forgives the insult since he appreciates how much the younger one already seems to be willing to indulge him by learning his — very particular — love language.

He would come up with some witty reply, but he’s too distracted by the sight in front of him. He wishes he could engrave to his brain every detail of the image of the producer’s knuckles rubbing in and out of his rim. Nothing in the world could make him avert his eyes away from the scene. He swears Swiss cheese could go extinct, and he wouldn’t even miss it since there is only one hole he is interested in now and forever. 

“Y-you were thinking some weird shit again, weren’t you?” Yoongi asks with a playful tone — but the stuttering gives away how much he’s enjoying the fingers inside him. Seokjin grins as an answer, and he takes the bottle of lube in his hand and gets his fingers lubed up too. 

Determined to not make Yoongi do all the work, Seokjin lets his fingers near Yoongi’s entrance, as if asking whether it’s okay for him to do this. 

Yoongi lets out a self-satisfied sigh as he takes his own fingers out, rubbing the excess lube on his open thigh. Seokjin takes that as an invitation, and he lets his finger circle around the rim before shoving one, then two in. 

Yoongi takes them too well, and Seokjin can’t help it this time.

“You know, I can make only two of my fingers equal five of yours, right?” he declares calmly; the suspicious statement makes the younger open his eyes, looking displeased. 

Seokjin proceeds to gesture to his still lubed right hand and slowly makes a V sign with it, then moving both fingers back and forth in a scissoring-like movement, with a proud grin on his face.

“Is—,” Yoongi glares at him, breath caught in his throat, “is this a Romanian number joke—” Seokjin nods, and Yoongi just looks defeated, fingers coming up to pinch his nose bridge. 

He doesn’t protest when Seokjin’s more fingers are back inside him and start massaging his insides. Yoongi pushes his ass upwards slightly so Seokjin can better look at his fingers appearing and disappearing. It’s a tight fit, but Yoongi lets out a small groan and he can live with this sight etched into his mind forever. 

As Seokjin’s about to put his fourth finger in, Yoongi stops him, mumbling a “want to feel the stretch,” and Seokjin is actually dead, and he’s ascended to heaven; transcended reality and is now on a different plane of existence. No one will be able to find his body because it has turned into mush that spells out Min Yoongi on the damn floor.

He puts more lube on his (condomed) cock, though, because as much as Yoongi wants it to burn, Seokjin doesn’t want to hurt the younger one to the point of it being unbearable. 

“Guess you can say,” Yoongi’s head snaps up from Seokjin’s cock to his face, “we’ll be having a slick ride.”

Yoongi lets out a groan and lets his head bump against the counter as Seokjin giggles, obviously reveling in the misery. 

“Just fuck me and go.” Yoongi mumbles, finger pointing to the front door. “This is the worst experience I’ve had yet. Zero out of ten.”

Seokjin pouts, but he lines his cock to Yoongi’s entrance anyway.

“Tell me if it’s too much.” he warns, and Yoongi nods, hips impatiently pushing himself downwards to Seokjin’s tip.

He enters Yoongi carefully, making sure to read his facial expressions. Yoongi looks relaxed for the most part but vaguely annoyed at what he can assume is the slow pace. Sue him, is he not supposed to make love to Yoongi?

As Seokjin predicted, a smooth ride it was. Yoongi takes his cock like a champ, and Seokjin wonders if he’s going to kill him if Seokjin makes a custom trophy engraved with ‘best dick taker’ on it. Probably, but he’s willing to take his chances.

“Fuck, Yoongi. You’re so tight.” Seokjin says as he keeps on burying himself.

Yoongi lets out a gurgle as a response before he bottoms out and goes rigid for a moment, but it doesn’t take long for his hips to automatically start moving. Hands on Yoongi’s sides, Seokjin starts thrusting experimentally. It’s not meant to bring them to orgasm, just simply him testing out the feeling of Yoongi’s insides, the feeling of being enveloped by him.

Yoongi lets out a small huff as he demands Seokjin to go faster, his fingers playing with his own nipple. Seokjin, however, lives to be a tease. He keeps his thrusts languid, taking his sweet time as Yoongi’s head rolls backward in frustration. 

Yoongi wants it quick, and he makes it clear by the way he moves his hips. Yoongi pushes his body upwards with a glare directed to Seokjin; on his elbows, Yoongi starts fucking himself on Seokjin’s cock.

Up and down — it’s rhythmic but nowhere near enough to satiate Yoongi. Fueled by the eagerness, Seokjin indulges the younger by quickening his pace, rolling his hips deep as Yoongi’s mouth utters out more and more moans.

“Hyungie— “ Yoongi blabbers, “hyungie, please—"

“Please what, baby?” Seokjin leans his body down to Yoongi, arms moved to the sides of Yoongi’s head. “You want me to go faster? Slower? Deeper? You have to tell me, Yoongi-yah, I wouldn't know.”

Yoongi hiccups as he lets his hands feel up Seokjin’s neck, his fingertips almost cold on Seokjin’s heated skin. He doesn’t answer Seokjin, however, and that’s not the manners of a good boy.

Something sadistic in Seokjin strikes, urging him to play with the man for a bit more.

So he starts thrusting half-heartedly, aiming messily and without a thought. It’s barely any good, and it serves Yoongi right as he grumbles in annoyance, fingers on his dick and jerking off.

“I thought your dick game was better than this?”

“Hmm,” Seokjin smirks, “of course it is, but you’re behaving awfully bad right now,” he says as he buries himself to a halt inside yoong — and stops moving, “so I can’t be bothered.”

“Hyungie—" Yoongi groans, trying to fuck himself, but Seokjin’s hands are quick, already gripping Yoongi’s hips tight and making it impossible for him to do so. “Hyungie~” He wails, legs kicking, and god, isn’t that the cutest thing ever. 

“You’re so bratty, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin sighs affectionately, swatting the hand that’s tugging on his arm. “Beg me properly and I’ll fuck you like you deserve.”

He receives a nasty glare as a courtesy of said brat.

“Or you can cockwarm me until tomorrow as I jerk you off until you pass out, your choice, babe.”

Yoongi seems to shudder at the thought, though Seokjin doesn’t know whether it’s a good kind or a bad one until he wantonly moans, words forming into a “you fuckin’ jerk.”

Seokjin just laughs, surprised, “I wouldn't be if you were less of a brat. So what will it be?”

Yoongi groans, arm shoots up to cover his flushing face. His eyes are blinking away tears, his body covered in a sheen of sweat that makes him look glossy from this point of view.

“Fuck me hyung,” he mewls, lips trembling when Seokjin’s hold tighten on his grip, “fuck me like the brat that I am, fuck me like I deserve it. Give it to me, hyung—"

Before he can even finish his sentence, Seokjin’s already moving, his hips snapping so hard that the sound of skin-to-skin slapping echoes across the silent room, accompanied only by Yoongi’s muffled gasps.

“Don’t mute yourself — I love the sound of your voice. Deep, velvety and leaves me wanting more,” Seokjin grunts, fingers moving to peel off Yoongi’s hands that are covering his face. Yoongi’s teeth are gnawing on his lips when they are removed, bitten red, and Seokjin can’t seem to understand why. He caresses Yoongi’s bottom lip that is now bruised from the force. “Open your mouth, baby, let me hear what you sound like bouncing on my cock.”

That gets him to release his lip with an exhale, sharp, small groans that escape his lips are clearer, crisper, and Seokjin drinks it in as if it could satisfy his quenching thirst for Yoongi.

When he instinctively tries to bite back a moan, Yoongi shakes his head and opens his mouth — yet another sight that’s engraved in Seokjin forever. There’s nothing that can come close to it, he’s sure.

He leans down to Yoongi’s neck, flushing pink, and nibbles at the skin, wanting to draw out even more reactions from the younger. Yoongi hiccups as Seokjin sucks a hickey on his neck, the salty and musky taste of sweat enters his mouth. 

When he pulls away, the purple is blooming on the pale skin — a mark of his if you will, branding Yoongi as Seokjin’s and the thought turns him on more and more, and before he can think about it, Seokjin lets out a “can I mark you more, baby?”

Yoongi nods with vigor, stray strands of hair sticking to his forehead and his lower body shake, legs seeming unable to stop themselves from jerking. Seokjin smoothes his hands over the inner of Yoongi’s thighs before leaning down once more, lips sucking and sucking, teeth biting and biting while his hips move back to that slow and deliberate pace that Yoongi oh so loathes.

Seokjin thinks Yoongi was about to voice his complaints by the way he scowls at Seokjin, but he’d never know because Yoongi’s words get stuck in his throat when Seokjin hits it.

His prostate. 

The way that Yoongi gasps when Seokjin finds his prostate makes Seokjin’s skin prickle. Like the insatiable that he is — Seokjin wants more, to hear more of Yoongi moans, to make Yoongi feel even better; so he angles his hips until the sensitive nub is hit again. 

It doesn’t take long now that Seokjin’s got a clearer idea of where to go, and Yoongi’s reaction is immediate. His body goes through this shiver that reverberates on every patch of his skin, and the usually deep voice turns into a high mewl that goes straight to Seokjin’s dick.

“Hyung—" Yoongi babbles, and Seokjin sees spit starting to appear at the corner of his lips, “hyung, hyung hyung—"

“Yeah baby? What do you want?” Seokjin says with a grind of his hips. The way that his dick grazes over Yoongi’s prostate has the younger scratching at his back.

“A t-tease,” he stutters out, “you’re a damn tease.”

“But I'm a good one, right?” Seokjin smirks, fingers finding Yoongi’s nipples which have the younger squirming. “You like it when I tease, right? When I am a little mean and make you work for it like the good boy that you are?” 

Yoongi nods — then shakes his head. He seems confused, and Seokjin doesn’t blame him. He just continues with his short thrusts, continuously pounding at the sensitivity that has Yoongi sobbing out a “love it so much.” 

Yoongi’s fingers on his dick are already moving at a rapid pace — Seokjin pushes the size of it to the back of his mind since Yoongi can’t even fit it in his fist and has to resort to stroking it with three fingers. The cockhead is spurting out precome, pooling on the milky stomach that Seokjin has to refrain himself from licking every drop. 

Seokjin has to refrain from doing many things as he’s getting closer and closer to orgasm. The feelings of Yoongi sucking him in, heated walls keeping him prisoner simply from how tight he is around him is immensely pleasurable. Even if Seokjin proceeds with his thrusts tirelessly, he's determined to make Yoongi come. 

He moves faster, brushing against Yoongi’s prostate while his eyes can’t tear themselves away from Yoongi’s face. He looks like a watercolor painting; pinks and reds make up blotchy patches on his face, cheeks, and forehead glazed with sweat. 

One hand on his dick, Yoongi moves the other onto his nipple, pinching and playing with both interchangeably. His soft whimpers are turning louder, his fingers make squelching sounds from how sloppy and wet his tiny cock is.

But Yoongi’s so tight around him now, making it almost impossible for him to thrust. He feels Yoongi’s legs trembling, and he holds them upwards until they are situated on his shoulders and starts pounding harder.

He’s clenching around Seokjin — a good sign as any, and Seokjin keeps thrusting, blindsided by the pleasure. His body is on autopilot, though his ears are drinking in every single moan that Yoongi’s producing, pushing him closer and closer to the edge.

“Close—" Seokjin manages out, and Yoongi nods his head. Maybe in acknowledgment, maybe in agreement.

His senses are heightened — everything feels like too much at this point. It’s almost like he’s drunk on pleasure with how perfect Yoongi is around him, the tight heat sucking him in, making Seokjin delirious.

It runs through him like electric shocks, and with the way Yoongi clenches just right, he’s coming. 

Seokjin throws his head back, and his Adam apple bobs, limbs feeling like jelly and threatening to collapse. He feels pleasure shooting out of his cock as he continues to thrust into Yoongi, who looks at him with pleased eyes, groaning with the feeling of Seokjin’s semen filling his insides.

Seokjin takes Yoongi’s dick in his hand and jerks him off, his own still buried deep and nudging at Yoongi’s swollen prostate. 

Yoongi huffs, pants, breathes out little sighs, then whimpers with the way Seokjin quickens his pace, desperate for the release. Yoongi comes just after Seokjin has finished, and he is a sight to behold. 

“Hyung,” Yoongi sobs, mouth spilling the sweetest moans “Seokjin-hyung, hyung—"

He clenches around Seokjin’s cock, and his dick twitches in Seokjin’s fingers. The amount of cum that comes out of his small dick is impressive, quickly covering his pinkish belly and pooling in his belly button. 

Yoongi lets his whole body shake intensely as he quivers from pleasure, white release spills from his stomach to the Calacatta marble, almost glittering over the expensive stone. 

Seokjin just stays there, eyes wide and taking in all the sensations. His hands slip from Yoongi’s hips to the counter, sweaty palms resting against the cold material. He can feel the milky fluid between the tip of his fingers, and it makes him smile. The sight of the man’s skin covered in cum on top of the white marble is nothing short of mesmerizing.

He tries detaching himself from Yoongi, but the younger only tells him that he’d like it if Seokjin can stay inside just a bit longer — and who is he to deny such a request?

They take a while to recover, Yoongi especially as he continues to pant as if he were in a marathon, and Seokjin just kisses up his neck, lips seemingly attached to Yoongi’s skin.

“Hyung~” Yoongi groans when Seokjin’s kissing his jawline, and he pulls away. “Y’ can take it out now.”

Seokjin complies, easing his cock out slowly, not wanting to strain Yoongi any further. It slides out quickly enough, and Yoongi heaves a small sigh when he finishes doing so. 

“Shall we go take a bath?” he asks, wanting to take care of Yoongi, a romantic act that will probably increase Seokjin’s boyfriend points if Yoongi lets him. He also peels off the condom while he said so, though, so maybe not that romantic.

Yoongi stares at him with a small smile. God, he’s pretty. The sex afterglow is natural, and Yoongi’s damn radiating; Seokjin squints a little; perhaps he shouldn’t stare at the younger dead on if he wants to keep his eyesight. 

“Can you carry me?” Yoongi asks with a pout, his arms reaching backward, and yeah, Seokjin’s gonna carry him, alright. 

Taking the other’s arms in his, Seokjin lifts Yoongi up with a huff, and he feels Yoongi’s legs wrapping around his body for leverage. He still remembers where the master suite is, so he takes them both there. 

Yoongi’s naked as he is seated beside the tub, turning on the faucet before dipping in. Seokjin starts undressing, from his shirt to his dress pants, sweat clinging onto every part of the fabric. He’ll have to ask for a change of clothes later.

He feels Yoongi’s eyes on him the entire time, and perhaps he subtly flexes his muscles for a bit — for research purposes. Yoongi then makes grabby hands in his direction, and Seokjin knows to get in the bath per request. 

Yoongi makes space for him by inching his body in the middle, and Seokjin’s chest is pressed against his back. He wraps his hands around Yoongi and rests his chin on Yoongi’s clavicle.

“I’m beat,” he hears Yoongi says, his fingers playing with Seokjin’s hand.

“Yeah, sex is tiring when you’re old,” Seokjin sighs wistfully, head nudging closer to Yoongi, who giggles, his shoulders vibrating, too tired to reply with a ‘yeah, you sure look like you know what you’re talking about’.

Seokjin relaxes into the hold, warm water relaxing his muscles and an even warmer body in his grip. The floral scent of Yoongi’s body soap is light, aromatherapeutic, and it loosens him up. His eyelids are getting heavier and heavier — and even if Seokjin tells himself to not fall asleep in the bath, he can’t help but let his eyes close, arms still looped around Yoongi. He doesn’t mind living like this forever.

Before he is fully asleep, Seokjin hears Yoongi mumbling, the words slurred and heavily accented, sounding like his tongue was being a deadweight and feeling far too heavy in his mouth.

“I think I can do this forever too.”

♡

“On a scale from six to nine how bad is it that I want you to rap while sucking my dick?” Seokjin wonders out loud as they eat breakfast the morning after, fork digging into his scrambled eggs. The thought’s been lingering in his mind ever since Taehyung made him listen to Yoongi’s Hong Kong line, and while he wanted to try it out the night before — it might seem too much for their first time. 

Yoongi sputters, coughs into his coffee cup, and gives Seokjin a pointed glare — which he only pouts a bit over. 

It takes Yoongi approximately thirty seconds to collect himself and another thirty to answer him.

“That’s a weird scale you’ve got there.”

Seokjin lets out a groan, kicking Yoongi’s leg under the table. “Is that the only thing that you take from the question, Yoongi-yah? This is a very serious inquiry — wait, where are you going?”

“Away from you.”

And that concludes their conversation the morning after.

♡

“You look good.” Yoongi mutters into his skin, lips trailing from his jaw to his neck, tongue darting out ever so often to taste the salty skin. They haven’t seen each other in weeks; Yoongi had to talk to some movie producers while Seokjin had to meet with some executives. So when Seokjin arrives at Yoongi’s front door, he’s not surprised to see how the younger latches onto him almost immediately — and before long, they start making out against the open door frame, manners be damned.

“I only look good?” Seokjin says with a pout, his eyes boring into Yoongi’s, starving for more compliments. 

Yoongi averts his gaze, cheeks flushing in the lightest shade of pink, “What am I supposed to say? That you look hot?” 

They manage to get to the sofa with Yoongi caged under his hold, lithe leg wrapping around his sides, hips rolling together. 

“Yeah,” he breathes out, hands cupping Yoongi’s cheeks and peppers kisses over his face. Yoongi giggles as he squirms, “you’re supposed to tell me that I'm like the hottest man alive, worldwide handsome even.”

Yoongi laughs, slapping Seokjin’s arms.“I don’t want to be crude.”

“You?” Seokjin pulls away, raising an eyebrow. “Being crude? Min Yoongi? The aggressive rapper who people always try to be on the good side of?”

Yoongi lets out a huff, his eyes squeeze shut. 

“Please don’t bring that up when we’re about to fuck. It’s kinda weird.”

Seokjin purses his lips, jutting them out a little. “You don’t want me to bring up many things when we fuck — first the cheese puns, now our jobs, i’m starting to think that you want me to be mute the entire time.”

“That’s the dream.” Yoongi sighs dreamily, and Seokjin swats his arm with a ‘yah!’. “Seriously, you bring up the weirdest shit when we fuck—”

“We’ve only done it a handful of times—”

“Hyung. You want me to rap on your dick.” he deadpans.

“I didn’t bring it up when we were fucking!” 

Yoongi gives him an unamused look. “Fair. But you have to admit it’s pretty weird.”

“Maybe…” Seokjin looks away, “but that just proves my love for you — how I want to experience and explore new things with you!”

Yoongi doesn’t say a thing, so he pouts, before urging the younger on. “Is it bad if I say I want you to rap while giving me a blowie?”

“Get out.”

“Yoongi-yah—" 

“Out.” 

Seokjin lets his shoulders drop as he gives Yoongi — who’s still in his lap right now, his best puppy eyes. Yoongi just glares at him, and Seokjin still doesn’t know how he’s supposed to get out of here when Yoongi’s still trapping him down like this.

He lets his fingers trail to Yoongi’s waist, pulling him closer. The younger complies with a huff, still looking away from Seokjin. 

God, he looks adorable like this. While they may have not figured things out — or put a label on the relationship, Seokjin’s heart is out of control, telling him that this is akin to love.

Even if Yoongi’s gonna kill him after this.

“Okay, fine,” he heaves a sigh, making Yoongi look at him, “no more spitting bars on my dick—" Yoongi pinches his thigh and Seokjin yelps from surprise. “But what about singing?” he tries to reason, “I’ve heard you sing, uh, a repeating seesaw game~ wait, Yoongi, where are you going?”

Before Seokjin can voice any complaints, Yoongi has gotten away from his lap, and he strides to the front door. Glaring at Seokjin, he pushes it open, wordlessly motioning him to get out.

Seokjin pouts again, but he gets to where Yoongi is and tugs on his arm. 

“I’m sorry Yoongi-yah.”

“Are you really?” Yoongi squints at him, the first word he’s said to Seokjin in about forever.

“Not really, can we get back to kissing, and possibly… boning?” with his hands, Seokjin makes a circle and inserts his finger in it, motioning something crude. Yoongi looks like he’s on the verge of crying.

“Ugh, why do I love you?”

“Because.” Seokjin replies, and that’s reason enough as Yoongi can’t keep the exterior for long, and before Seokjin knows it, they’re back at it again, making out heatedly against the door. His hand is in Yoongi’s hair, the locks soft and slightly damp, as if he’s just taken a shower. 

“I would like a blowjob as compensation for this.” Yoongi rasps, and Seokjin nods. 

He has the perfect plan. 

He lets himself be led to the living room, Yoongi sitting on the sofa, so he opts for the floor. Yoongi leans towards him, and they exchange a chaste kiss — but Seokjin is a man with a mission, and he works Yoongi’s sweatpants down with ease.

He’s not wearing any underwear, small cock already chubbing up from their interactions, which brings a smile to his face. He lets his fingers stroke Yoongi, feeling the dick hardening in his hold and until Yoongi’s begging him to ’suck me off, please hyung.’  

Seokjin eagerly lets his lips wrap around his cock, tongue lining the head and pressing lightly, knowing how that drives Yoongi crazy. And it does, evident in the way Yoongi’s thighs twitch when his tongue flicks just right, mouth trembling with moans spilling everywhere. 

When he deems Yoongi properly worked up, Seokjin puts his plan into action. 

Yeah yeah yeah, burn it .

The length makes it easy for Seokjin, who sucks languidly as he bobs his head up and down, a hum in his throat. His lips vibrate against the sensitive cock.

I want it, want it—

“What the fuck are you doing?” Yoongi grasps his hair and pulls Seokjin’s head upward. Surprised by the sudden motion, it takes a while for him to recover — just to stutter at his words.

“W-well,” Seokjin wipes his lips, “since you didn't want to rap on my dick—"

Yoongi groans, his feet pushing Seokjin’s shoulders away.

“Come on! I’m literally doing you a service! This is a live performance that I'm doing for free, and on your dick!”

“I hate you.” 

“You hate me? Last I remember, you confessed your undying, forever blossoming love for me in such a romantic way that—"

He’s cut off by Yoongi, who leans down so quickly that Seokjin’s afraid he might get migraines, scrambling to pull Seokjin closer and presses their lips together. 

The taste of semen lingering between their tongues exchanged from one to another. When they pull away, both are desperate for oxygen, inhaling to their lungs content. 

“So…” Seokjin speaks up, face still a hand length away from the younger’s cock. “Will you reciprocate this performance with one of your own?”

Yoongi glares at him. Seokjin pouts. Yoongi sighs in resignation.

“I’ll think about it.”

And Seokjin is in love all over again.

♡

Holy hogity fuckity fuck fuck shit oh my god— Yoongi gives him a nasty look that probably means shut the fuck up because Seokjin has fucked him enough times that they are now telepathic. It also makes him realize that he has perhaps voiced his thoughts out loud, but Yoongi should be used to the act at this point.

Min Yoongi — his lovely Yoongi, has taken him up on the offer to rap on his dick, to give him a performance of a lifetime — one that cannot be found anywhere else. To say that Seokjin’s excited is an understatement because his body feels like it’s about to burst — and Yoongi hasn’t even pulled his pants down yet. 

It’s Yoongi’s turn to be on the ground this time, Seokjin seated on the corner of the bed with his legs jittery wildly from anticipation.

Yoongi just rolls his eyes from the movement, his palm placed on the bulge on Seokjin’s crotch. 

“You’re ridiculous. How are you hard already?”

Seokjin shakes his head. How is he supposed to know — it’s not like it’s his dick or something. Maybe he’s always hard, always been hard; it’s the result of being Yoongi’s boyfriend: his dick is in a perpetual state of hardness, and he has yet to find a way for it to go soft. 

He answers Yoongi with a small noise made at the back of his throat — he doesn’t think saying something eligible is an option at this point.

Yoongi sighs, fingers tugging Seokjin’s pants down. He lets out a breath that he doesn’t know he’s holding — and everything comes to a blur.

Seokjin feels Yoongi taking his cock out, giving it experimental strokes. He prides himself on his length, and the way Yoongi goes cross-eyed just trying to look at his cock as a whole makes Seokjin’s chest swell. 

Yoongi licks his cock — laps at it more like, the minimal sensations leave Seokjin wanting more. Yoongi indeed looks like a kitten like this — playing with his favorite toy. Seokjin tries to not think of his dick as Yoongi’s toy — but it’s there now, engraved in his head in bold Comic Sans font, and Seokjin’s dick throbs from the thought alone.

But when Yoongi places his kittenish lips on Seokjin’s cock and starts sinking downwards, Seokjin is a goner. He closes his eyes, tenses his hips, and fingers are clutched into a tight fist.

His boyfriends seem to be having fun, though, his eyes mischievous as he takes more and more of Seokjin down his throat.

Seokjin’s hips twitch, and he refrains from fucking in Yoongi’s mouth without permission. Partly because it’s bad manners, mainly because he’s afraid of what Yoongi is capable of. 

Yoongi lets his cock rest — and he starts humming. 

It sounds like a vague melody at first, building up gradually until Seokjin makes out the sound. It’s Daechwita — Yoongi’s rapping Daechwita — on his dick — holy shit. 

Yoongi’s keeping eye contact, his droopy ones boring into Seokjin’s face as he bobs, throat constricting around his cock. 

The vibrations come soft initially, only mildly affecting Seokjin, but as Yoongi gets more comfortable and the pace of the song fastens, Seokjin finds it impossible to keep himself in check. 

He gulps as Yoongi keeps on rapping, eyes blinking, and god — that fierce look of his makes Seokjin feral. Yoongi’s lips are reddened, slick with saliva that’s bubbling on the base of his cock. 

Then, Yoongi starts hollowing his cheeks, blinking as he takes more and more of Seokjin. It’s inconspicuous at first, but then he notices Yoongi’s nose distilling liquids — possibly a mixture of snot and come. It’s inexplicable how hot it is, and Seokjin closes his eyes as Yoongi pulls back and dips his tongue into the slit — before snapping them open because he doesn’t want to miss a moment of this.

He’s still singing when he pulls off of Seokjin, opting to use his hands instead. He lines the veins of Seokjin’s dick with his tongue, then presses a kiss to the head, making Seokjin choke on his own breath.

“ I’m a king, I’m a boss —” Yoongi mutters, wipes his nose, and he starts sucking again, this time a lot more lax and sloppy. 

Yoongi purses his lips around Seokjin, and god — they’re so swollen. He continues rapping — or possibly singing, Seokjin doesn’t know at this point, the increasing vibrations on his dick making it impossible to focus on anything else. He just knows that he’s probably babbling, making more embarrassing noises than he has ever before.

Then, Yoongi's hand starts moving downwards, fondling his balls. 

Seokjin’s knees buckle, and he’s dizzy in pleasure. His cock is engulfed in Yoongi’s heat; the wet sounds reverberate, echoing in his ears. Yoongi uses his hand to wipe the excess saliva down to his balls, making it easier for him to play with the sack. 

They’re looking at each other now, Seokjin out of breath and feeling light-headed — while Yoongi works his mouth with newfound eagerness.

Seokjin is close; he knows that for sure, but once Yoongi winks — he stops breathing, letting out a strangled moan as he ejaculates without warning.

“F-fuck!” Seokjin manages, his voice raspy from not being used, his dick pulsates inside Yoongi’s mouth — and Seokjin’s drowning. 

His vision turns black with white dots appearing, rendering him speechless. Yoongi is taken aback by the suddenness, but he keeps his lips still as Seokjin’s hips start thrusting, riding out his orgasm before he continues bobbing his head, sucking the semen out of his cock.

As Yoongi pulls away, Seokjin can’t help but wonder, “Have you done this before?”

Yoongi glares at him wordlessly, and Seokjin is about to defend himself when he opens his mouth. 

Seokjin gulps.

Yoongi’s mouth has layers and layers of semen pooling inside, swishing around aimlessly. Once he’s known that he’s got Seokjin’s attention, Yoongi swallows audibly, the sound purposefully loud just to taunt him.

“Y-you— “ Seokjin’s eyes are wide as saucers, and he’s unable to get a word out of his mouth from the blatant display. 

Yoongi only smirks challengingly. 

“You’re unbelievable.” Seokjin mutters as he gets down on the floor, sitting beside Yoongi before kissing him and letting his hand trail to the erection contained in the younger’s pants.

On that night, if he goes to sleep with the sound of Yoongi swallowing his come on replay in his head — no he doesn’t.

♡

“Yoongi-yah, you’ve got mail!” Seokjin calls out to his boyfriend, who’s doing god knows what in their bedroom, completely ignoring the fact that he’s in the living room right now, browsing through tv channels, and is way closer to the mailman standing at their front door than Yoongi is. 

In fact, the mailman gives him the stink eye since Seokjin makes no effort to remove himself from the sofa, although they both can see each other through the glass door.

Yoongi comes out of the bedroom and directs a glare at him when he sees Seokjin trying to integrate himself into the chair and becoming one instead of answering the door. It’s a social experiment. Yoongi wouldn’t get it.

Yoongi exchanges quick thanks with the mailman and takes his package — at this point, Seokjin still doesn’t know whose it is, and heads to where he’s sitting, still scowling.

“Couldn’t you have answered the door?”

“Eh,” Seokjin shrugs, motioning to himself and the sofa, “social experiment.”

Yoongi knows better to question it since he only furrows his eyebrows as he reaches for the boxcutter and takes the package apart. 

Seokjin piques his head up in interest, curious to see the contents as Yoongi unboxes. He takes out bubble wraps and a ton of miscellaneous packaging paper before getting the goods out. 

It’s a trophy.

Oh no.

He decided to make a run for it — but it was too late. Yoongi has already read the engraved words and is now chasing him down with the box cutter still clutched tight in his hold. 

The abandoned trophy sits innocuously on the sofa, the words ‘Seokjin’s Best Dick Taker’ glistening under the light as Seokjin’s screeches fill the background.