#idiedwhilewritingthisokay

I sat in the corner of the room, subtly risking a glance at him from the pages of my book. Yoongi was currently swirling his paint brush in the tin filled with the darker blue, lost in thought. “Are you quite alright?” I asked, prompting him to flick his gaze my way.

“I am, thank you,” he murmured, fingers tugging at his beret. I let him carry on, admiring the way his trousers hugged his legs as he moved between the canvas and paint. When he shoved his tunic sleeves up his arms, showing off the creamy skin of those hands I loved pressing my lips to, I swallowed hard.

“I can feel you staring,” his deep bass grumbled.

I whipped my gaze back to my book. “Sorry.”

I listened to the scratching sound of the brush spreading color over the canvas, reveling in the way Yoongi inhaled as he smeared blue onto white, and the way he exhaled as he pulled the brush away. Risking another peek at him, I watched as he straightened, dipping the brush in the paint once more, before bending down the work on the bottom half of what would be his latest masterpiece. Yoongi repeated this action multiple times, silently working as I looked on. His hands were what my eyes were drawn to most, however, his veins popping as his grip on the brush tightened and loosened. I had to press my fingers to my mouth to stop from gasping at the sight.

Normally, he didn’t let me watch him work. Yoongi preferred for me to see the finished product, but as we’d had such little time together since his art started becoming popular, he relented and let me sit in on this painting’s creation. The only other time I’ve been allowed in the same room with him while he’s working is when I’m the one sitting for the portrait, and even then, I never got to see his process until now.

Yoongi finally sighed and set the brush down, his pale arms and smock now splattered with small droplets of blue paint. “You haven’t turned a page for nearly an hour,” he mused, looking at me with hooded eyes.

I opened my mouth to apologize once more, but he crossed the room and smothered my words with his soft mouth. “Never mind,” he murmured against my lips. “I was distracted, anyway. Your mere presence is a hindrance.”

“I can leave,” I muttered, attempting to turn away.

“No,” he growled, the sound low in his throat. “I want you to stay. Need you to stay.”

My eyes grew wide as he pulled me upright, his dark eyes boring into mine as he slid his hands around my waist. “Don’t be scared, my love.”

I shook my head. “I’m not scared,” I said breathlessly. Truthfully, I wasn’t. I was entranced… had been for the entire time I watched him work.

Yoongi reached around me and began loosening the ties of my dress, pressing his lips to the skin of my neck as he worked the strings loose. I sighed into his touch, trembling as he peeled the layer from my body, letting the fabric pool around my feet. He groaned at the sight of me just in my linen kirtle and corset. “Turn,” he ordered, and I spun. His nimble fingers worked at the knots keeping my corset together, skillfully undoing them the way he’d done so many times before. Yet I still shivered every time I felt his fingers touch my bare skin, trailing over my neck and shoulder as his other hand loosened the corset strings to the point where he was able to lift the piece of clothing over my  head and toss it in the corner.

I spun around, becoming painfully aware of the fact that he was still fully dressed. I tugged at the hem of his tunic and he smirked as he pulled it off. “Impatient tonight, are we?”

Biting my lip in response, I fumbled with the ties at his trousers and yanked them down to his ankles, kissing down his torso as I did so. Yoongi groaned loudly as my tongue flicked out, tasting the skin of his creamy pale thighs. I lingered there, pressing the flat of my tongue against his skin, licking my way upwards. “Enough,” he grunted.

Smirking, I refused to listen, doing the same to his other thigh. He growled and grasped my hands, yanking me upright. “I said enough teasing.” I shivered, his husky voice going straight to my already dampening core. Yoongi reached down and grasped the hem of my kirtle, pulling it over my head in one swift move, making me gasp as the cool air hit my naked form. My nipples instantly hardened, and Yoongi sat back, devouring me with his eyes.

“You know, no matter how much I paint, you are still the most beautiful work of art I’ve ever seen.”

I felt a blush creep its way up my cheeks, and reached up to cover my face with my hands. Yoongi grabbed my wrists, pulling me so close I could feel his breath over my face. “None of that,” he murmured.

Yoongi led me to the bed in the corner and lay me down, nudging my thighs apart with a knee before he lay between my legs, his hard, throbbing length pressing against my folds. He rocked back and forth, the tip rubbing deliciously against my clit, and I cried out from the intense pleasure that shot through me.

He silenced me with a deep, passionate kiss, shoving his tongue into my cavern. I wrapped my lips around the muscle, sucking slightly, knowing it would drive him crazy. He let out an appreciative grunt and thrust his hips into mine, forcing a gasp from me.

He lifted his hips, the sudden loss of pressure making me whine, but he pressed a finger against my lips, shushing me. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you,” Yoongi said, deftly flipping us over so I straddled him. He grasped my thighs and guided me to the point where my core sat right above his perfect, pink mouth. Lifting his head, he licked a strip from the bottom of my folds to my clit, eliciting a loud moan from me. I began panting as he continued his handiwork, skillfully tonguing at me from every delicious angle, finally shoving the muscle as deep as he could go, making me cry out. He went between that and sucking fervently at my clit, and I felt my thighs begin to tremble as he worked me to my breaking point. “Yoongi,” I gasped. “I’m gonna… I mean, I’m going to-”

He groaned at my words, the vibration going straight into my core and pushing me over the edge. I cried out, my moans whiny and loud, as I released onto his tongue, panting his name as I came down from my high. “Yoongi… Yoongi…”

Only letting me have a second to breath, Yoongi speedily flipped us over once more, lying between my legs and pressing his hard, thick length into me before I had time to figure out what was happening. I felt my muscles stretching to accommodate him, relishing in the way my walls clenched around him and made him squinch his eyes shut as he bottomed out. “Ready?” he asked, letting his facial features relax into a smile.

I nodded. Yoongi wasted no more time, thrusting in and out of me at an insanely fast pace, using one hand to hold my hips still and the other to tightly grip the round flesh of my ass. I knew there’d be bruises in the shape of his fingers tomorrow, but at this moment, I didn’t care if I wouldn’t be able to walk. All I knew is I wanted him, I wanted him from the second he picked up his brush, and finally our bodies were melding together as one.

“Harder,” I hissed, scraping my nails down his back.

He obliged, speeding up to a pounding pace. I could hardly breath or feel anything but him inside me, thrusting in and out, the sudden, intense pressure of him inside me coupled with that same pressure abruptly releasing giving me nothing but raw, acute pleasure. I felt the muscles around my core and the bottom of my spine tightening, preparing for a second release. Yoongi’s grunts were coming out loud and frequent, letting me know he too was close. “C’mon sweetheart, let me feel you,” he moaned, and that was all it took to send me over the edge once more, my muscles completely contracting around him as they shook, clenching and unclenching.

He kept going, pushing me through my high, sweat making the tips of his soft, dark hair damp. Finally, Yoongi let out a low, deep grunt and pushed deep into me. I could feel him twitching, releasing everything he had deep inside me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us trying hard to catch our breath as we came down.