jairang

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 16

Drabble - Veris

Drabble - Velox

Because Taehyung is pretty sure they're gonna do it, and he's acting like a virgin about it.

The thing is, every band has a designated sex symbol. People might argue that Black Swan has four, as long as Seokjin isn't wearing his suburban dad ensemble. (Or, maybe, when he is.) Regardless, sex sells, and Taehyung is the band-appointed merchant. They toss him up front on stage when the crowd is dying. They steer him toward the girls during meet-and-greets and afterparties. They may flaunt Jungkook on their socials—he's got the rockstar look, long, messy hair, tattoos, washboard abs, dark stare—but Taehyung knows how to pimp out in real life. He knows how to half-smirk and look bored in the kind of way girls scramble after, hoping they'll be different, that they'll be the ones to capture his attention.

It's easy. Taehyung could do it in his sleep.

And then there's Jungkook.

Sweet, beautiful, perfect Jungkook. Impossible Jungkook. Jungkook, Jungkook, Jungkook. Taehyung's brain skips, a rock fighting not to drown in the ocean, a broken record. Jungkook, who kisses him, warm and wet, the suck of his tongue and bottom lip louder than the hum of the hotel room's AC unit. His tattooed hand slides from the side of Taehyung's face to dig into his frizzy hair. Taehyung follows wherever Jungkook's grip takes him. Tilted to the left, noses bumping together. They share exhales, panting into each other's mouths when their lungs burn as hot as their arousal, pooling low.

“How much pent-up energy do you have left?” Jungkook asks as he chases Taehyung’s mouth whenever Taehyung tries to bend over. He needs to wiggle his shorts further down his legs.

“Jungkook-ah” — Taehyung’s mouth parts in a slow smile that presses his teeth to Jungkook’s lips — “that’s not fucking funny anymore.”

A shudder runs through Taehyung when he kicks his shorts away and finally feels Jungkook’s naked body against his. Shockingly, the world doesn't end.

“Just answer the question,” Jungkook insists between kisses, “so I can know how much you’re willing to put up with.” 

Taehyung jerks away from him with a deep frown, forcing Jungkook to drop his hands to his sides. “The fuck does that mean?”

The AC unit hums in the silence of their hotel room, making Taehyung’s body shiver with goosebumps. The heat that climbs across his face isn’t from the temperature. He doesn't even get the chance to process that he and Jungkook are standing in front of each other, as exposed and vulnerable as they could ever be.

Jungkook’s wide eyes search Taehyung’s face. “You…” 

“I what?” Taehyung doesn’t mean to snap, he’s just scared. 

There it is—he admitted it to himself. He’s fucking terrified, of Jungkook, of what they’re doing, about to do, of fucking up because Taehyung has always been a fuck-up. No matter how good things are going, he manages to ruin them. There aren’t many things Taehyung can be sure of in life, but he knows without a doubt that he can’t afford to lose Jungkook. He’s already on thin fucking ice.

Ducking his chin, Jungkook takes a deep breath. When he looks back up, his eyes are watery.

Taehyung’s stomach drops. He watches Jungkook sit on the edge of the bed and can't understand how physically ill he feels when the distance between them grows.

“Koo…”

“You don’t even like men, Taehyung. And, yeah” — Jungkook pauses to take a shuddery breath — “I said I wanted this, but it’s just really hard when I know you’re only going to fuck me because you feel sorry for me, even though it makes you uncomfortable. And I didn’t realize” — he blinks up at the ceiling — “that it was going to hurt this bad, okay?”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung speaks slowly, with a frown he can’t shake. “What do you mean, I feel sorry for you?”

“I told you how I’m not like you… that first time, when we were together. I have to… I can, I can only feel this way with friends. I have to force it with strangers, and it’s really shitty. And you said you’d give me whatever I needed, but this was a bad idea.” 

Fuck.

It was the night they watched porn together, jerking off like it was the most normal thing to do with a best friend. Like it wouldn't completely alter the rest of their lives—or, at least, Taehyung's. Taehyung replays the conversation in his head, searching for the part, the part he missed, the part Taehyung couldn't understand because he was so caught up on how Jungkook sounds when he comes, and how Jungkook looks with his head thrown back, the long column of his throat on display.

"I’m not like you… I can’t just fuck someone. But hiding to go jack off alone in the bathroom every time I crave intimacy is really pathetic..."

That was the part Taehyung had missed.

"I’m here for you, right? Whatever you need, whenever you need it. I got you, you know that. I got you…"

What Taehyung had said was true then, and it's true now. He would do anything for Jungkook. Everything. He already has, right? How long has it been since he's had something to drink? Rather than alcohol, Taehyung swallows, and it's Jungkook he tastes on his tongue these days. He finds he craves that more than the strongest drink.

He just never told Jungkook.

"God, I'm such a fucking idiot." Taehyung laughs bitterly, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t be here, doing this, if I didn’t want to,” he admits with a slow exhale.

And it's true. It's so true it hurts because there's a part of Taehyung that doesn't want it to be true. Life would be so much easier if he could look Jungkook in the eyes and tell him that his chest doesn't tighten when Jungkook smiles at him, or his stomach doesn't drop when Jungkook cries, or his mind doesn't run away at night with the sound of Jungkook's moans while he's trying to sleep.

Taehyung's pulse pounds in his throat as he kneels on the edge of the bed between Jungkook’s legs because he knows it's where he belongs.

Jungkook scoots back, giving Taehyung space, but his gaze never wavers—starry-eyed even though they’re no longer beneath the night sky. He watches Taehyung with eyes that could make even the most grounded person feel like they’re floating. It’s almost too much. 

“You swear?” Jungkook asks as his fingertips skirt across Taehyung’s bare hip. 

“Like a fuckin’ sailor, yeah.” Taehyung grins, his cockiness a deceit they both recognize. He doesn’t even try to dodge the pinch Jungkook gives his side. 

“You have a really weird way of expressing affection,” Jungkook had told him. 

Taehyung presses forward, nudging Jungkook down until he’s flat on his back, the heaviness of Taehyung's body blanketing him—not the weight of the world bearing down on them. And when Taehyung kisses him—harder than before—he thinks his way of showing affection isn’t so bad.

“You don’t like men, though.”

Jungkook won’t let it go. He whispers against Taehyung's lips, stealing the air from his lungs just to punch what’s left out of his chest with those words.

Taehyung lets his head hang and squeezes his eyes shut. But the storm inside him quiets when Jungkook combs his fingers through Taehyung's hair.

“I don’t know..." Taehyung whispers.

Jungkook's fingertips trace Taehyung's cheeks, his nose, down to the bow of his lips. When they skim over his mouth, Taehyung kisses them.

“Hyung,” Jungkook murmurs, pressing his fingers to the underside of Taehyung’s chin.

Taehyung finally lifts his head to lock eyes with Jungkook. His unruly hair is fanned out beneath him, damp strands curling at the ends as they dry. How long has it been since they got back from the hot tub? How long until Jungkook's patience for Taehyung runs out?

“I just don’t want to force you to—”

Taehyung kisses him before he can finish.

It doesn’t matter. It shouldn't matter. Taehyung doesn't want it to matter. If he thinks too hard about this, he'll psych himself out. It's just sex, just casual sex; that's the mantra he repeats to himself as he opens his mouth to let Jungkook's tongue slide against his. Taehyung is great at sex. Amazing, actually. The best. Big Dick Kim Taehyung. He knows how to use it.

None of this matters.

But then Jungkook lets out a content sigh between kisses, the kind that isn't quite debauched enough to be a whimper but still breathy enough to make Taehyung's body tingle. And he knows he can't keep fucking lying to himself.

Jungkook grabs Taehyung’s arm as he starts to pull away. “Where are you going?”

“Gotta get a condom,” Taehyung says, cocking his head in the direction of the dresser where they tossed their bags earlier. Super casual, cool as a motherfucking cucumber.

"Trojans?" Jungkook says the word like it's glass cutting the inside of his throat.

"Uh… yeah?"

"You're so straight, hyung."

Taehyung frowns. "Okay, so what?"

Jungkook wiggles his lip piercing with his teeth, and Taehyung tries not to be a freak about it. Instead, he waits as patiently as he can, subconsciously tapping a beat with his fingertips against the outside of Jungkook’s thighs.

“When was the last time you got tested?”

The meaning behind the question isn’t lost on Taehyung. Jungkook wants Taehyung to fuck him raw.

Taehyung’s cock jumps involuntarily, and embarrassment finally hits him full force when Jungkook laughs.

“Leave me the fuck alone,” Taehyung snaps, but he’s not tough enough to cut through Jungkook’s near-hysteria.

Jungkook tosses his head back as he tries to regulate his breathing through the laughter—firm, muscular chest rising and falling. His cock is hard but well-behaved, sitting there waiting for Taehyung to get his shit together. God, Taehyung feels like he shouldn’t look at it, definitely shouldn’t stare, but he can’t help the desire that seeps through. It’s liquid hot, lava in his veins.

Taehyung’s cock kicks up again.

“Damn, hyung, are you that horny—”

“After that time I went out with Hobi and Namjoon,” Taehyung interrupts before Jungkook can embarrass him further. He averts his eyes, keeping his gaze locked on the alarm clock. Wonders how long Seokjin and Jimin will be gone. “That's the last time I got tested. Just ‘cause, y’know, I hadn’t since we started the tour. But, uh, I haven’t been with anyone since.”

It was the day Taehyung returned to their rental house early in the morning, covered in hickeys that Jungkook wouldn’t stop staring at the rest of the day. The girl he’d gone home with that night was hot, probably in the top five since going on tour—not that Taehyung is counting how many girls he has slept with. They all blur together at some point. He doesn’t even remember this particular one’s name, but it doesn’t matter. The high of fucking her was real good, but Taehyung crashed hard the moment he saw Jungkook the next morning. He was sleepy-eyed, with a sad smile still somehow warm with kindness Taehyung didn’t deserve, doesn’t deserve.

“Ahh, yeah” — Jungkook sits up, making Taehyung take a step back from the bed to give him room — “I remember.”

“It didn’t mean anything,” Taehyung blurts before he can stop himself, not needing to say what it is. There’s no point in explaining himself. They both already know it didn’t. Sex never means anything to Taehyung, aside from it being a means to an end.

There’s this look Jungkook gives Taehyung that he doesn’t understand. It makes him feel guilty, maybe even a little inadequate, like he has just failed a test Jungkook expected him to pass.

“For me, it was before the tour,” Jungkook says, ignoring Taehyung’s unwanted confession. “Obviously, I haven’t needed to go again since then...”

Taehyung nods, swallowing down the words he wants to say. It wasn’t that obvious. At least, not to Taehyung. But he needs to shut the fuck up.

“Okay," Taehyung says, the word slipping out on a shaky breath. His fingers trace slow, deliberate circles along Jungkook’s outer thighs, raising goosebumps in their wake. God, he's so sensitive.

“Okay,” he says again like he’s convincing himself. “Yeah. No condom.”

It’s been years since he fucked someone without one.

Jungkook lightly squeezes Taehyung's forearm. “You’re thinking too much,” he murmurs. “Come here, Tae.”

Taehyung’s cock twitches at the sound of his voice, low and alluring. His hands tremble where they rest against Jungkook’s thighs, blood roaring in his ears. He wants to push Jungkook down into the mattress and fuck him stupid—wants to ruin him, make him cry.

And that realization is fucking terrifying.

“What if I hurt you?”

It's not the question Taehyung really means to ask, but it’s something. Something is better than nothing.

Jungkook tilts his head, his hair clinging to his damp forehead and doe eyes uncharacteristically dark. But his lips quirk in amusement. "Well… you are big.”

Taehyung lets out a strangled laugh and drags his hands down his face. “Jungkook, what the fuck. That has never sounded more like an insult in my entire fucking life.”

“Shut up.” Jungkook grins. “Some positions make it harder to take big dick, okay?” He reaches up, taking one of Taehyung's hands to lace their fingers together. “Let me ride you.”

Taehyung swallows hard. His grip on Jungkook’s thighs tightens like he needs something to steady him. "Yeah,” he breathes. “Yeah, okay. That’s—uh, yeah. That’s dope.”

They dance around each other, Jungkook sliding off the bed as Taehyung crawls onto it, sitting back against the pillows. Taehyung watches Jungkook dig through his duffle bag for a small bottle of lube, and he feels pretty useless lying on top of the white starched sheets, waiting.

With girls, it's always Taehyung leading during sex—calling the shots and setting the pace. He's the one who does the seducing, who buys the condoms, who takes control. Yet here he is, brain buzzing like static, white noise making him feel fuzzy while he watches Jungkook kneel on the bed.

The mattress dips with Jungkook's weight, and the frame creaks as he crawls over Taehyung, settling in his lap. He palms the bottle of lube, rolling it in his hand and giving it a light squeeze just to watch the liquid squish in the clear plastic. His free hand slides up Taehyung’s chest, fingertips grazing over his collarbone, up the column of his throat, and the hinge of his jaw.

"You good?" Jungkook asks, dragging the question out with his fingers along Taehyung's jawline.

It’s overwhelming, the weight of Jungkook straddling his lap and looking at him like this. Like he's memorizing the pattern of his breathing and the freckles scattered across his face. Like Taehyung is something worth cherishing. He swears his heart is hammering hard enough in his chest that it could break one of his fucking ribs.

"Yes?" Taehyung says, though it comes out more like a question than an answer. He can't be fucked to feel embarrassed when Jungkook laughs under his breath.

"That didn’t sound very convincing."

Jungkook opens the cap of the lube with one hand, squeezing out a drop onto his fingers. He rubs them together absentmindedly as if this is the most normal thing for them to do right now. When his gaze flicks up to Taehyung again, his expression is soft and relaxed—patient, in a way that makes Taehyung's chest ache.

"Relax,” Jungkook murmurs, kissing the corner of Taehyung’s mouth before trailing his lips along his jaw. "I said I want you, Tae. So let me have you."

Taehyung groans, barely able to hold himself together. “Fuck, okay."

He wants to say more, but his tongue is heavy in his mouth, and his heart is lodged in his fucking throat. Regardless, he's afraid if he opens his mouth, something terrifying will slip out. Maybe he'll admit that he's not even convincing himself. That his confidence is virtually nonexistent. That Jungkook is so pretty, Taehyung could fucking die.

With shiny and slick fingers, Jungkook rises to his knees high enough to easily reach behind himself. And, fuck, Taehyung doesn't need a play-by-play to know what Jungkook is doing. His breathing comes out in uneven gasps, his body rocking slightly. When Jungkook shifts forward even more, his cock drags against Taehyung's, precum smearing.

"Shit, Koo." Taehyung's fingers flex, but he digs them into the sheets instead of Jungkook's tight waist.

It's hard to stay grounded when the personification of forbidden fruit is fingering himself in Taehyung's lap. Taehyung has never given a shit about buttholes, but he finds himself burning with the desire to see how Jungkook circles his rim with lubed fingers, pressing his fingers into the tight, wet heat like Taehyung had in the hot tub.

Jungkook's eyes close as he exhales slowly. He bites his bottom lip, wiggling it with his front teeth like he's concentrating. Something about the action makes Taehyung feel like he's doing it on purpose.

"You can touch me, you know." Jungkook doesn't open his eyes when he speaks.

There's a long list of shit Taehyung hates, authority being right at the top. Yet the moment Jungkook gives him permission, Taehyung reaches for him like a man possessed. His hands tremble as he slides them up Jungkook's strong thighs. The hair on his legs is sparse, but dark and so much different than the smooth skin Taehyung is accustomed to caressing during sex. He follows the curves of Jungkook's body to his hips, skipping his cock because his heart is practically in his mouth.

"You're so hot," Taehyung mumbles absentmindedly as the white noise in his head fades until all he hears is Jungkook's breathy sighs.

"Yeah?"

Taehyung hums in response, wrapping his hands around Jungkook's tiny waist.

Jungkook shivers, shifting in Taehyung’s lap, and fuck, the movement sends electricity shooting straight to Taehyung’s cock. His grip on Jungkook's waist tightens, and his body burns so hot that he feels like he's going to go insane if they don't do something.

Grabbing Taehyung's cock, Jungkook gives it a few slow strokes, slicking him up with lube. He squirts the liquid directly onto Taehyung’s cock as if he remembers how Taehyung said he likes it, wet and messy.

For a moment, their eyes lock. In the hallway, someone lets out a sharp laugh, followed by a chorus of giggles that fade into the distance as quickly as they'd appeared.

Jungkook laces his fingers with Taehyung's and holds their hands against his hip. "We don't have to do this…"

If you don't want to. Jungkook doesn't need to verbalize the rest.

Shaking his head, Taehyung trails his fingers down Jungkook's body, past his lower back, before settling at the curve of his ass. He squeezes, fingers curling inward until they almost reach his sticky rim.

A content hum is all Jungkook gives in response before he lifts himself onto his knees. With a firm grip on Taehyung's cock, he lines it up with his hole, and then he sinks back down. He lifts up again just an inch, only to sink down a few inches more. It's a back-and-forth, easing himself onto Taehyung's cock. And Taehyung? He chokes on the first drag of the head of his cock popping through Jungkook's tight rim.

Jungkook exhales shakily, adjusting, getting used to the stretch. "You feel so fucking good, Tae," he moans.

Taehyung throws his head back against the pillows. "Jesus."

Jungkook moves carefully at first, rolling his hips like he's experimenting, using Taehyung's cock however he wants. His brows furrow, his bottom lip caught between his teeth, and Taehyung can see the tension in his body, the way his thighs tremble as he takes him in.

Taehyung slides his hands up Jungkook’s torso to splay across his chest. His thumbs brush over Jungkook’s nipples, drawing a gasp out of him.

"So fucking tight," Taehyung grits out. "Tight, warm."

Somehow, it feels exactly like he thought it would and not at all like anything he could have imagined. His hands slip lower, gripping Jungkook’s ass, guiding him into a deeper roll of his hips.

But Jungkook won't let him. He grabs Taehyung's wrists, yanking his hands back up to his waist. "Let me do it."

"But—"

Jungkook presses his fingers to Taehyung's lips, ducking his chin with an embarrassed smile when Taehyung opens his mouth to let him slide his fingers against his tongue.

"Tae, please," Jungkook huffs, feigning annoyance.

To be perfectly honest, Taehyung's got soup for brains. He lies back and watches Jungkook ease himself into a steady rhythm of fucking himself on Taehyung's cock. Their bodies gently bounce on the mattress, springing up every time Jungkook lifts until only Taehyung's tip is inside him and drops down to the base again.

It's slow and torturous, but so fucking deep. Waves of electric lava shoot through Taehyung's veins, making his cock twitch inside of Jungkook.

Fuck, he's gonna come.

In a panic, Taehyung sits up, jostling Jungkook in his lap. He wraps his arms around his waist and holds him still for a second, face buried in his chest. 

"What? What's wrong?" Jungkook holds the back of Taehyung's head as he pants against his skin, open-mouthed and hot. Taehyung is sure he can feel each shudder that racks through his body. 

"Don't move!" Taehyung squeezes Jungkook tighter when he tries to get up and his body clenches around his cock. "Was gonna come." 

"Wow..." There's no need to see Jungkook to hear the smirk in his voice. 

"Fuck off."

Never in Taehyung's life has he almost come so quickly. Even worse, the sensation snuck up on him. One minute, he's vibing. The next, he's got that fluttery feeling in his stomach, breathing heavy, cock pulsing with this tight feeling. It's fucking embarrassing. At least Jungkook seems proud of himself for eliciting such a response from Taehyung. He giggles, tickling the back of Taehyung's neck and making it so much harder for Taehyung to calm down. 

"Let's flip," Jungkook offers once he decides to be helpful. "If you're on top, you can control your strokes."

With a nod and a deep breath, Taehyung lifts up and flips Jungkook onto his back, pleased that he manages the move without slipping out of him. This is a more natural position for Taehyung, when he isn't hitting it from the back. People act like missionary is vanilla sex, but Taehyung likes the control it gives him, even when he's doing what his partner needs to get off. A people-pleaser in the most attention whore kind of way, Taehyung loves watching his partner fall apart. 

And, if he really likes them, there's something about being able to mold himself into his partner. Like he does now, with Jungkook. Taehyung fucking whimpers into the crook of Jungkook’s neck as he thrusts deeper, slower like he's trying to hide inside the safety of Jungkook's body.

Jungkook’s hands find Taehyung's hair, twisting his fingers into the curls. "Tae" — he lets go of Taehyung to slide his hand across the sheets — "get a pillow."

Taehyung sits back, kneeling between Jungkook’s legs, the head of his cock still snug inside his ass. The hotel pillows are bodyless, but it's just enough cushion to make a difference when Taehyung slips it beneath Jungkook’s hips.

"This okay?" Taehyung asks softly, gaze sweeping over Jungkook's body. He's so beautiful like this, laid out for Taehyung.

Taehyung always thought being a man who gets fucked was some kind of surrender, an act that makes a man vulnerable, weak. And yeah, he fucking knows he shouldn't have thought that. But knowing doesn’t erase the weight of his parents’ expectations, the memories of stinging slaps and tender bruises, or the pressure to be the right thing, whatever that means. It all gets jumbled inside him, twisted into knots in his stomach and tangled with words he can't get right in his head because Taehyung runs away from the messes he makes.

So when he looks down at Jungkook, doe-eyed and open, Taehyung understands that he has never been as strong as Jungkook is right now—nothing weak about him or this.

"Yeah, this is a lot more comfortable," Jungkook says after clearing his throat. "Try to keep me tilted back, hips upward."

Nodding, Taehyung clings to Jungkook's instruction, agreeing to whatever he says despite having no idea what he's talking about. He taps his fingers along Jungkook's ribs, not a coherent thought blossoming in his brain.

Jungkook must be able to tell because he rolls his eyes with an annoyed smile. "Hyung," he scolds, "I'm trying to teach you how to hit my prostate. You've got a slight curve."

"Your what?" Taehyung blinks, forcing the unfamiliar English word through the fog in his head.

"Taehyung, my prostate." They stare at each other for a few beats until Jungkook sighs, endeared and utterly uninterested in giving Taehyung an anatomy lesson in the middle of sex. "It's basically the male g-spot."

That Taehyung understands.

"Shit, where is it? Did I hit it yet?" Taehyung adjusts his position, a little more of his cock pushing into Jungkook.

"Kind of? Whenever I ride someone, I know how to hit it. But like this, the pillow will help."

Taehyung scowls, but Jungkook kicks his side to knock the look off his face.

"Quit that shit," he says with narrowed eyes. "Like as if I haven't had to listen to you fuck other people for months."

Guilt racks through Taehyung before Jungkook even finishes. Regret is a tough pill to swallow, and Taehyung has a couple of bottles to get through.

"Imagine it's like aiming for my belly button from the inside," Jungkook continues.

Placing his palm on Jungkook's stomach, Taehyung presses down lightly as he eases his cock inside him. The pillow helps with hitting the right angle. One of Jungkook's legs twitches the harder Taehyung presses, and Jungkook lets out a quiet whine.

"Like this?" Taehyung asks, voice low, alluring.

"Mhm, just keep a rhythm" — Jungkook swallows thickly — "even if I go soft, just keep going."

Taehyung hooks Jungkook's leg over his shoulder, the one that's still. The twitchy one Taehyung grabs by the back of the thigh and presses up and outward, opening Jungkook to give himself more room as he snaps his hips forward.

This time, Jungkook's head falls back against the pillows, and Jungkook's hands grasp at the bed sheets to ground himself.

"Oh god," Jungkook says with a gasp. His hand flies down to grab his cock. He gives it a few quick strokes, twisting his wrist at the tip on each upward drag of his fist. 

Taehyung wants to jerk Jungkook off himself, to give him double the pleasure. But he doesn’t trust himself to keep a rhythm, doesn’t think he has the fucking coordination to pull it off when all the blood in his body has drained to his dick.

"Is it good?" he asks between thrusts, his voice crackling like gravel.

Am I good? He can't bring himself to ask that question; he never has and never will.

"Mhm, mhm," Jungkook whimpers, nodding. "So good, so full."

Jungkook reaches up to press his hand against the bed frame so he won't hit it when Taehyung thrusts particularly hard. His other hand holds his cock, occasionally stroking it when more precum dribbles from his slit.

Jungkook stomach flutters with each flex of his abs and shallow breath, but Taehyung keeps his hand pressed down as he fucks into him. Taehyung's body moves on instinct now, chasing every breathy moan that falls from Jungkook’s lips. He gets his groove, fucking Jungkook hard enough that he's convinced he'll get bruises on his hips from it.

Fucking Jungkook is so different.

Most of the girls Taehyung fucks put on a performance. It isn't to fake an orgasm; Taehyung definitely gives them at least one. The performance is more about attraction, them trying to make themselves sexy for him, something pretty and filthy to fuck. Lots of tit squeezing, over-the-top giggly moaning, playing up their feminine innocence.

But with Jungkook, it's raw (literally) and genuine. It's real.

There's something about knowing Taehyung is the one getting Jungkook off, making him feel good. It almost doesn't matter how good Jungkook's ass feels gripping Taehyung's cock with each thrust—just seeing Jungkook's eyes glaze over and his lips fall open in a shameless moan is enough to wreck him.

His thrusts quicken, sharp and deliberate, punching wrecked sounds out of Jungkook with every snap of his hips. The initial fear of hurting Jungkook melts away with the heat of his body. Jungkook fluctuates between soft whimpers and deep, masculine groans, all of which hit Taehyung right in the cock in the best way.

"Tae, stay, stay like this." Jungkook reaches for him, his nails dragging down Taehyung’s chest, leaving red, stinging lines mapped across his smooth skin. "Fuck, I'm gonna come."

Jungkook's ass clenches around Taehyung's cock, tightening up, gripping him with such intense heat.

And then Jungkook comes, untouched.

Taehyung barely has the time to process it before he feels it, the way Jungkook's legs begin to shake and the sudden wet warmth of his cum spilling between them. And fuck, the look on his face—pure, unadulterated pleasure, mouth open as Taehyung continues fucking him through his orgasm—is almost enough to make Taehyung come right then and there, too.

He didn't even know men could come untouched like that.

"Shit, that was so fucking hot," Taehyung whines against the curve of Jungkook's ear, voice low and wrecked.

Taehyung continues fucking him, even as Jungkook's legs shake so hard he almost has a hard time keeping Jungkook still. The bed creaks even louder, and the frame thumps against the wall in quick, sharp bursts. He leans over Jungkook, nearly folding him in half as he presses their bodies together, grinding into him as deep as he can. His arms tremble as he braces himself above Jungkook, his breath coming in ragged pants, his body coiled so tightly that it hurts.

Jungkook cups Taehyung's face, tilts his chin, and kisses him. It isn't desperate like before, just soft, almost airy. It feels like permission, like love, if Taehyung is brave enough to believe it.

"You're fucking me so good, Tae," Jungkook whispers against Taehyung's lips, his nose scrunched up, so fucking adorable even after he literally just came all over them. It isn't fair. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this."

The words barely leave Jungkook's lips before Taehyung comes so hard he sees black spots in his vision.

He moans into Jungkook's mouth, breath hitching as he chants his name. "Jungkook, Jungkook." It's just as reverent as it is filthy, the only kind of prayer Taehyung has ever uttered. Each sound tumbles out of him as his cock pulses, shooting his cum deep inside Jungkook in waves.

Taehyung doesn’t realize he’s shaking until Jungkook’s fingers thread through his hair, gently massaging his scalp. Jungkook sighs softly, arms wrapping around him, holding him close.

It hits him, then, that he just came inside of Jungkook, filled him up with cum that spills out of his hole when Taehyung pulls out. He stares, large hands squeezing the backs of Jungkook's thighs to hold him open. Jungkook's gaping hole clenches, pushing Taehyung's cum out in milky streams.

"Holy fuck, Jungkook."

Jungkook chuckles, his chest still rising and falling in deep, shuddering breaths. With a shaky hand, he reaches down to run his fingertips against his own rim, smearing the cum leaking out.

“Are you going to thank me for sex again?” Jungkook teases, voice rough.

Taehyung chokes on his own laugh, his head hanging down and his face half-hidden by his sweaty bangs. "Shut up."

Despite being sweaty and cum-soaked, Jungkook latches onto Taehyung. Their limbs are still entangled, their chests still heaving. With his head resting on Jungkook's chest, Taehyung can hear his heartbeat through their attempts to regulate their breathing.

It's quiet like this. Calm. Taehyung isn't the type to stay behind after sex. Funny, because at least while they're on tour, Jungkook is the one he goes home to every night—no matter who Taehyung fucks.

"Thank you," Taehyung whispers against Jungkook's collarbone. He smiles, small and soft, when Jungkook laughs again.

"Wanna shower?"

Taehyung nods, but his grip around Jungkook's torso tightens. "In a little, yeah." Taehyung is calm and collected. He's casual, just like the sex they had.

Jungkook doesn't question him, but Taehyung isn't surprised. Sweet, perfect Jungkook who has guided Taehyung into so many leaps of faith.

There's so much more Taehyung could say, should say. But he keeps quiet and listens to the steady thrum of Jungkook's heart against his ear and the gentleness of his breathing. And maybe he melts into the soft caress of Jungkook's fingers tracing his spine, massaging his scalp, touching the freckles scattered across his flushed face. He's not sure if sex has ever left him feeling satiated like he does now, something holistic, whole-bodied. It isn't just the pleasure of busting a nut.

Jungkook squeezes Taehyung a little tighter as if he can hear how loud his thoughts are.

And this time, Taehyung doesn't panic.

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