Chapter Text
The drama is so fucking terrible. It works for an hour or so to distract Jungkook from tomorrow's massive concert, but he can’t escape the dread in the pit of his stomach. Eventually, he gives up on the show, and makes himself tea using the kettle in his silent hotel room. He pointedly ignores the booze in the mini-bar.
The night feels so big. He feels so alone. He feels lonely. A small, horny and hopeful voice in his mind unhelpfully notes that he could try to do something about that.
He could masturbate maybe, and pretend the squealing and moaning women are what he really wants. Next, ashamed, he considers watching gay porn. While it’s a bit more appealing, Jungkook doesn’t want to do that.
Carefully keeping his mind blank, he combs his hair and ends up right outside Yoongi's door. Suite 222. Yoongi's awake, like Jungkook thought he would be. There's a dim, thin line of light emanating from under the door. It's become a habit, ending up here past midnight. An addicting one, with teeth.
“You can’t sleep either?” Yoongi answers the door quickly. Right next to it is a tiny hotel desk, with music equipment strewn about haphazardly.
Jungkook immediately fights a blush as soon as he sees him. He looks so fucking hot. Messy hair. Slim, graceful fingers around his vape. God. Jungkook's heart tightens in his chest.
Jungkook's obsessed with the way the soft light is reflecting against his Adam's apple. He wants to lick the vein crawling up his forearm into his bicep. It’s okay though—this is all it is. Yoongi’s hot, and Jungkook wants to suck his dick, and he’ll never be able to do that. That’s life. And that’s fine.
But God, the crisp, white bed sheets on the sizable bed are still tucked neatly like Yoongi hadn’t even tried to sleep. It's dark, the small desk lamp washing over the room in gentle yellow light. Yoongi looks golden. He looks tired. “No," Jungkook admits, "nervous for tomorrow."
Yoongi nods, something unreadable beneath his assent. He’s wearing a huge thin white shirt that hangs off his shoulders, accentuating his muscular chest. Jungkook looks away, hating the way his cheeks heat up. “Wanna watch a movie?”
“Yeah. Please.”
Yoongi tells him there’s some French film he’d been meaning to watch, so they sit in Yoongi’s bed to watch it. Jungkook’s distracted the whole time by how close together they are. Yoongi smells like cigarettes. Jungkook glances at Yoongi, then himself. He feels strangely inadequate in comparison. He’s wearing an old cotton shirt and blue pajama bottoms. He wonders if anyone could ever desire him to the extent that he desires Yoongi. Jungkook tries his best to focus on the movie after that.
The movie is alright. Jungkook is not really sure what’s happening, and it’s not entirely due to Yoongi’s presence. For once. He sits through the scenes of gratuitous violence, sex, and melodramatic dialogue delivery in a language he doesn’t understand, half-heartedly trying to keep up with the subtitles. He can’t. French people speak too fast for his eyes.
Yoongi shifts throughout. They both do, the bed is kind of uncomfortable and stiff. The desk lamp is still on.
The trouble comes when Yoongi’s soft white cotton, already torturous, shirt slips down his shoulder as he readjusts his legs. Jungkook’s eyes are drawn to the sudden movement, then to Yoongi’s exposed skin almost instantly. Without any thought process really motivating it. He just has to look.
Jungkook’s eyes sweep unintentionally but they pause halfway through, and when he realizes what it is, his brain short-circuits.
Yoongi has a tattoo, and Jungkook’s brain is fried because of it. It’s—it’s some sort of angel, the lines are intricate, but there’s just an outline. No shading or color. Just dark, steady lines peeking through where his shirt had fallen, not even fully exposed. When he comes back to conscious thought, he snaps his eyes up to Yoongi’s. His gaze is intense and Jungkook knows it matches his own. They aren’t supposed to do that. They aren’t allowed to do that. That thought races through his head, followed by a more pressing, distressing one, in which Jungkook fears for real that he may not come back from this.
That maybe there will never, ever be anyone in his life as good as Yoongi, or anyone who Jungkook wants as much. He wants so, so much.
“Got it back in December,” Yoongi says quietly, watching him. He leans back against the headboard, a couple strands of hair fall into his face like some sort of adonis. So fucking handsome, holy shit.
For a moment, Jungkook inexplicably feels like something has changed. Or is changing, perhaps. The hair on his arms is standing up, his heart beating faster in his chest. His skin feels too awake, like he has a hundred times more nerve endings than usual.
Jungkook finds his voice and tells Yoongi that he likes it. The air is kind of weird. He feels kind of nervous, kind of on edge. He wonders if the tats are legitimately driving him crazy, dissolving his common sense because—Jungkook's usually pretty good at figuring out when girls like him. Pretty fucking good. It's in the way they look at him, the casual drift of their gaze across his face and body. Jungkook's never usually wrong, he's been wrong before, but he's never been this wrong. Yoongi's watching with lidded eyes, like he him like he likes him—like he wants to kiss him—
They should go back to watching the film. That’s what they should do.
But somehow, in the dim lighting of Yoongi’s hotel room, on Yoongi’s bed, with Brigitte Bardot emoting away in the background, Jungkook lifts his hand and drags his fingers across Yoongi’s exposed sternum, exploring. His skin feels soft, smooth, and warm beneath his touch.
He’s tracing the drawing, at first, but Yoongi's breathing so fast, and Jungkook flattens his palm on Yoongi’s warm, golden skin, touching—just wanting to touch— touching so much— and then he’s being grabbed and pulled. It’s 3am, and Yoongi’s arms are tugging him close suddenly, and Jungkook's not sure what’s going on at all until he feels lips on his.
He freezes. He remains that way for a short moment, but then Yoongi kisses his lips again gently and he unravels after that. He hears himself emit a pained, quiet whimper, and loses himself in it. He needs to make sure this happens again, that—that Yoongi will still want him after. God, he wants it to go on forever. He licks gently at the seam of Yoongi’s lips and then his tongue is caressing Yoongi’s and it’s the hottest thing ever. So hot that he has to shift, because his erection is straining painfully against his underwear, and that’s when Yoongi grabs him and pulls Jungkook on top of him. His dick rubs against Yoongi’s stomach, and he absent-mindedly does it again and again until they’re properly grinding on each other.
God. He’s kissing Yoongi, in Yoongi’s bed with no one else there. Just them in this bedroom suite. Surely, the world is whirling around him still, but it doesn't feel like it. Jungkook's whole existence has unexpectedly narrowed down to this.
Yoongi makes this surprised, soft moan when Jungkook pushes his thigh against his hard cock, and Jungkook wants to lose himself in that too. The sound of Yoongi’s pleasure.
Yoong pulls back to start kissing down his throat and Jungkook’s eyes flutter shut, scarcely able to believe that this is really happening. All he can think is more, more, more . He brings his hand that had been resting on Yoongi’s chest down to the bottom of the shirt that's going to be the death of him, and touches the thin soft material for the first time. He breaks the kiss for a moment and catches Yoongi’s eyes, hoping that Yoongi won’t make him say it out loud; what he wants; what he would beg for; what he is begging for.
"Yeah," Yoongi whispers, like he knows exactly what Jungkook wants. Seems like he—he wants this too, just as badly. He holds Jungkook’s gaze and reaches down, pulling off his own shirt.
It’s amazing, is what it is. He’s never been so close to another person’s naked skin before. Arousal flashes through him when he sees all the other tattoos, pretty skulls and spiders and dates that Jungkook desperately wants to know the significance of, and text that he can't read in the dimly lit hotel room. He greedily takes in the defined clavicles, faint outlines of abdominal and pectoral muscles, small brown nipples, down to the V shape leading into Yoongi’s pajama bottoms. He likes it, he likes all of it. Even the sprinkling of hair under his belly button.
Yoongi’s dick looks obscene now, so plainly outlined through the threadbare flannel material.
Jungkook takes a chance and presses his face into the crook of Yoongi’s shoulder, laying kisses there, and gently, gently palms Yoongi’s erection. Yoongi’s eyes go hazy with pleasure and that’s good. That’s really good. Yoongi likes it too, whatever this is.
Jungkook traces his fingertips in swirls up and down his length, teasing a bit because he can, watches Yoongi’s abs clench and fingers tense up in the sheets. Feels a wet spot forming where the head of Yoongi’s hard, and fuck, big , cock has to be. God. Jungkook caused that, he’s the one causing the hitches in Yoongi’s breath as he runs his index slowly over the dampened material. The minute flex of his hips.
After a minute of letting Jungkook play with him, Yoongi grabs him and kisses him again. Pulls him insistently, so that Jungkook ends up under him.
Jungkook's heartbeat is ringing in his ears. Yoongi lifts his shirt and he helps him do it. When it’s off, he feels Yoongi’s eyes bore into his, then flit across his body. He tries not to cross his arms.
Yoongi kisses him all down his chest. Teeth against his sternum. Yoongi’s mouth gently sucking and pressing kisses to his nipple. He hears himself gasp just like a girl. Fuck, Yoongi's stunning. From his biceps, to his strong, wide shoulders, to the pretty flush across his cheekbones, he's stunning. Jungkook wants to sink his teeth in the angel wings on his shoulder.
Finally, Yoongi shifts down his body in, an obvious hint for where this is going next. Jungkook watches in rising panic as Yoongi's face becomes level with his nearly painful erection. He glances down at the bulge in Jungkook’s pants then away like he’s nervous.
“Jungkook,” he finally says, “I want to, um, can I? Give you head, I mean.” He rests his palms on Jungkook's thighs, looking up at him with hope. Jungkook licks his lips and nods, ready for whatever Yoongi wants to do to him.
"You're sure about this?" Yoongi whispers, and Jungkook thinks maybe he's a little freaked out about it too. He reaches down to squeeze Yoongi's hand in his, and then Yoongi's other hand starts slowly rubbing and squeezing his erection through his pajama pants. Jungkook reluctantly lets go of Yoongi's hand, even though he'd kill a man to keep holding it and touching their palms together.
Once his clothes are out of the way, Yoongi grips his cock with his right hand and rests his other hand on his hip. Jungkook watches the muscles in Yoongi's back and shoulders flex as he leans down.
Yoongi takes the flushed, pink head of his cock into his mouth, then the rest, and Jungkook holds back an agonized moan as he starts a slow rhythm. The sight and the feeling of Yoongi sucking him, cheeks hollowing out around him, make Jungkook feel almost lightheaded. Yoongi looks so good sucking cock. His pretty, pouty lips stretched around him. Jungkook puts a hand in Yoongi’s hair and moans as quietly as he can when he swirls his tongue around him. When Yoongi pulls back, there’s a string of drool and precome connecting his lips to the tip of Jungkook's dick, and that almost makes Jungkook come right then.
Yoongi’s going slow, like he’s getting used to it, pulling off often to lick and kiss. It’s the sweetest thing ever. He pulls off to ask Jungkook if he likes it, and Jungkook can’t do anything except nod again, his heart beating out of his chest. In the back of his mind, he wonders if Yoongi has done this before. The thought makes him anxious so he pushes it aside, decides to concentrate on his soul getting sucked out of his dick. He holds onto Yoongi's hair, lets himself look intentionally at the lines of his body, his face. The tiny treble clef tattoo peaking around where his shoulder and neck meet. Jungkook turns his head into the crook of his arm and moans.
Yoongi takes him as far down his throat as he can, by the looks of it, lets Jungkook pull him down onto his cock once every so often. Jungkook feels the head of his dick hit the back of Yoongi’s throat, shocks of pleasure running down his spine.
It’s quiet in the room, the movie acting as the only background noise. The wet, slick sound of Yoongi taking his dick and his own pained moans seem so loud. He can’t help noticing how he sounds. He sounds so fucking stupid. Jungkook realizes he’s about to come in an incredibly short amount of time. He can barely find it in him to care though, it feels too good. He starts to rock into Yoongi’s mouth a little, trying to be controlled and not rude about it, but he’s fucking close, close, close—
He tries to warn Yoongi. He thinks he manages, saying “I’m gonna—” and Yoongi just. Keeps working around his length. The thought of his come flooding Yoongi’s mouth tips him over the edge and makes him actually do it. He groans at the visceral, all-consuming sensation.
Yoongi grabs a tissue from the nightstand to spit into, and it’s clear it isn’t a good taste, but Jungkook feels nothing but infatuation, nothing by relief that this thing that’s been taking over his life is finally concluded. This is probably the only time he mused, no matter how much Jungkook will pray for the contrary. He wakes the fuck up and grabs Yoongi’s face, kissing and licking into his mouth in slow, long pulls. He tastes his come, in Yoongi's mouth. Somehow, he doesn't mind. The taste and the idea of it.
It’s the only time, so he has to blow Yoongi’s fucking mind. How the fuck is he going to do that.
Yoongi's just kissing him, just keeps kissing him, one of the hottest and filthiest Jungkook's ever had. He hasn't had that many regular kisses either. Nothing's made him lose his mind like this. Yoongi is only shirtless, still, and his biceps flex when he runs his hands up Jungkook's sides, to slide across his ribs and stroke over his back. He tugs Jungkook closer to him, so that Jungkook's completely on top of him and basically sitting on his dick. Jungkook's never felt anything as good as Min Yoongi hard for him. Jungkook nearly salivates.
He puts his tongue in Yoongi’s mouth, kisses his jaw and the hollow of his throat, and runs his fingers through Yoongi’s hair while Yoongi sucks on his throat. He just came, so he can’t get it up again so soon, but the way Yoongi turns frantic the longer they kiss, the way he gasps when Jungkook licks and presses soft and wet kisses into the hollow of his clavicle is mesmerizing.
Clearly, he’s afraid to ask for it. Shy. Jungkook wants to break his resolve. He continues kissing all over Yoongi’s torso, biting where he wants to. Shoulders. Biceps. Pectorals. Mouthing at the ink adorning his skin. Leaving little red marks to decorate his tattoos. He sucks sharply under Yoongi’s ear, making his hips jerk.
By the time Jungkook is gently touching his dick through his pants, Yoongi is practically panting. Score.
“Do you want to…I’m...” Yoongi whispers a little desperately, the top of his cheeks flushed deeply, so Jungkook smiles and tells him yes.
He takes his time sucking Yoongi’s gorgeous, veiny dick. It's thick, long enough to fuck his face. Maybe come down his throat. He wants that so bad, now that he gets to taste it. He tries not to think about why he thinks that, or what he’s doing.
He tries exploring Yoongi’s body using every trick he had ever seen. He presses his tongue into the underside of the head, a little shocked at how difficult it is to do this. He uses his hand around what he can’t take. Jesus. Porn stars are fucking champs.
Opening his eyes, he looks up, needing to see that Yoongi’s enjoying it, liking him—and Yoongi is, he does. His eyes are closed, his mouth open. Head thrown back.Yoongi stays quiet, gasping when he goes down as deep as he can.
He wants to make Yoongi feel how he did, make him so turned on that he can’t help moaning, can’t help saying Jungkook’s name. Yoongi puts his hand in his hair, and the contact sends sparks through his whole body.
“Oh God,” Yoongi whispers, and when Jungkook glances back up, Yoongi's eyes bore into his. Jungkook rolls his tongue around the flushed head of his cock, and watches Yoongi’s eyes roll back in pleasure. Jungkook closes his eyes, savouring it. He never wants it to stop.
His jaw starts aching eventually, and he tries to not be put off by the taste of precome. It's all okay though, because Yoongi is running his fingers through his hair, his whole body tense. He focuses on not throwing up, trying to take Yoongi's dick deeper and deeper, gagging himself a little. He doesn't know how to be good at this, but he wants this to be so, so good for Yoongi. He threads his fingers through Jungkook's hair and pulls lightly in response.
"It's okay, just take what you can," Yoongi says softly, running his fingers once through Jungkook's hair. He's being quiet, but taking these harsh gasps every time Jungkook takes more. Jungkook's nose hits his pubic bone, and he gags a little, but it's worth it because the breathy, shocked moan he gets in response makes his skin tingle. He thinks about taking Yoongi’s cock, all the way in, God. Yoongi deep inside of him. How good it would feel for Yoongi.
The thought makes him crazy, and he swallows down his cock again. He’s nowhere near taking his whole length. Yoongi comes with a low groan, pulls out a little too late and gets come all over Jungkook’s lips. He doesn’t mind because Yoongi looks so turned on by it.
Yoongi runs his index finger along his bottom lip, eyes lidded and dark, and pushes it into his mouth.
It tastes bitter, salty, but it's Yoongi's taste. Jungkook is sure he could learn to love it.