GdM x EsVM x Rogue

[18+] It didn’t matter who was fucking him, or how good it was. At the end, there was always a gaping void, taunting him. Something missing where a memory now stood.

That memory was Seokjin—his best friend and the only fuck he’d never forget.

It wasn’t Seokjin's technique that haunted him. Although Jungkook will never forget how his own body gave way for Seokjin's size.

It wasn’t the desperation of it. It wasn’t the ghost of Seokjin’s pillowy lips against his throat. It wasn't the way his knobby fingers grappled at Jungkook's skin.

No. It was the way he cradled Jungkook’s head as he came.

Cradled it. A small but perfectly-timed move that would torment Jungkook during the wee hours of the morning when he couldn’t help but remember.

Their one and only time together.

It was a fluke, really. Rooming together in a foreign hotel. High off the crowd’s energy. So much nervousness left to burn.

So when Jungkook rolled over in the dark and dared to wordlessly kiss Seokjin’s cheek…and then his ear, and then his lips, the dam between them broke all at once.

Their chemistry was inevitable—they could hardly remember a time when they didn’t know each other. Grew up alongside each other. Breathed the same air in the same dorm and often in the same bedroom, in the same bed, for years.

Seokjin was there when Jungkook discovered he liked girls, then…discovered he liked everyone. Knew that Jungkook feared nothing, except disappointing those he loved. Knew he secretly cried in his room sometimes. Knew he was a tender soul in an unstoppable shell.

So it was no surprise to Jungkook, that Seokjin could sense his climax fast approaching before Jungkook said a word—could feel the subtle shift in Jungkook’s muscles as his body tensed beneath him.

Before he could whimper "hyung, ’m close. 'm close—" Seokjin was there, shifting one palm beneath Jungkook’s head, lifting it off the mattress, cradling it as Jungkook began to writhe.

Jungkook can't forget how Seokjin stared down at him in wonder, like everything he knew about Jungkook had unfurled onto the bed beneath him.

“That’s it, oonguah, come for hyung. Shhhh, I've got you. I got you,” he rasped out as he pulled Jungkook's head closer and dipped down to kiss along his jawline.

How was it so easy to walk away from that night? To mutually laugh it off in the morning, chalk it up to pent-up energy, and agree it was probably best to stay “friends”, for the sake of the group?

Maybe they were too scared of the water they were treading in—how deep the well went? How long had they stepped around it without either of them saying a word?

It was a wrinkle in time that became a long crack in the wall of Jungkook's memory. Unignorable no matter what he hung on it.

Healthy relationships. Genuine romances. It made no difference.

At the end, Jungkook would be filled, teetering on the edge of release, with no one to cradle his head as he tipped over the edge.

That ends tonight.

At least, that’s what he hopes.

He pulls out his phone and types, thumbs sweaty and trembling against the screen.

JK: hyung, r u awake? SJ: JKah it’s 2am JK: so yes? SJ: you know me too well. JK: I know.