Archive of Our Own

The empty champagne glasses clink together when Yoongi picks them up. He isn’t drunk enough to be in any danger of breaking them, is barely even tipsy, if he’s completely honest, but it’s still a nice feeling. Drinking with the members, celebrating together, had been nice.

The last time they’d celebrated after winning an award, he’d still been in rehab, working hard to get some range of motion in his shoulder back and watching the others accept the award on his phone.

This is a lot better. He rolls his shoulder reflexively, still surprised when the movement doesn’t even twinge.

“Hyung?” a voice from the doorway asks, and Yoongi turns to look at Taehyung. “Do you need any help?”

Yoongi looks down at the glasses in his hands, then the ones still on the table. There’s nothing else to clean up, since Jungkook happily took the leftover food back to his room with him. They’re not really supposed to indulge like that while they have schedules coming up, but no one felt like reprimanding him for it.

“I think I can handle a couple of glasses.” It’s not even like he needs to wash them, just put them back on the room service cart for their staff to take back to the kitchens later.

“Right. Of course.” Taehyung’s still standing in the doorway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He’s still wearing the hoodie he’d worn for the vlive, but his face looks a bit wet, like he’s already taken off his make-up and gotten ready for bed before deciding to come back instead.

Coming back to see Yoongi. “You can come to my room for a bit if you’d like,” Yoongi offers, putting the glasses down on the tray. It’s not unlike Taehyung to seek someone out after a performance. He gets restless after they’ve been on stage, has told them before how he still feels the energy thrumming through his body even after they get off stage, instead of having it be replaced with exhaustion.

He doesn’t usually seek out Yoongi. The way Taehyung looks far too surprised at the offer doesn’t feel great though. “You know you can always come to me.” Yoongi had thought that was obvious, but apparently not, judging by the way Taehyung’s eyes widen even further.

“Thank you, hyung.” His mouth goes wide and boxy as he smiles, and Yoongi resists the urge to reach out and ruffle his hair.

“Come on,” he says instead, leading the way out into the hallway and over to his own room. The hallway is mostly deserted, just like he expected it to be, with only one of their security guards stationed by the elevators. Yoongi gives him a short nod of acknowledgement and gets one back before he unlocks his door, holding it open for Taehyung before slipping into the room himself.

He can’t say that he particularly missed staying in hotels. He usually relates the experience to being jet lagged to hell, and he feels bad enough after only one inter-continental flight that he has no idea how he used to deal with this while they were on tour. Most of the time he just ignores his sleeplessness by working instead, but he’s spent so much time alone in his studio in the last months that the prospect has lost a lot of its appeal.

But it’s not like he’s alone tonight. Taehyung has already made himself comfortable on Yoongi’s bed, and something about the casualness with which he takes up space in Yoongi’s room makes him smile.

They haven’t been sharing hotel rooms for years now, but they’ve never quite grown out of the way they inhabit each others’ space, like everything is open for use once you’ve been invited over that one crucial courtesy barrier that lets introverts like Yoongi survive existing in such close quarters with that many people.

Taehyung already looks calmer than before now that he’s in Yoongi’s room, and Yoongi allows himself a moment just to look at him.

Taehyung is lying back on the bed with his eyes closed, socked feet hanging off the edge and soft-looking hoodie rucked up slightly from when he’d first pushed himself up the bed to get comfortable.

He looks soft like this, approachable. Real.

They’ve known each other for almost a decade now, but it still sometimes catches Yoongi off guard just how beautiful Taehyung is, especially when he’s all dressed and made up for a red carpet and an award show. It’s a kind of beauty that looks good for cameras and stage lights, meant to be on a catwalk or on the cover of a magazine.

The way Taehyung looks now, a bit rumpled and comfortable, is quieter, but no less devastating. Yoongi wants to trace his fingers along the curve of his throat, touch his cheekbones and brush his hand through his hair, soft and wavy now instead of stiff with product and perfectly styled.

Yoongi slips off his shoes and walks into the room, leaving his thoughts behind at the door. It’s not like it’s news to him that he has some very attractive group members; years of sharing a room with Seokjin had made it very easy to blend out something as simple as beauty for the sake of friendship.

He sits down on the edge of the bed, not touching Taehyung but close enough to reach out if he wants to. “Everything alright?”

Taehyung hums quietly, keeping his eyes closed. “I forgot what it’s like. Performing in front of real people, I mean.” He cracks an eye open, gives Yoongi a quick glance, his body stiffening. “I know the people behind the screens are real too, and it’s not that I don’t appreciate the staff making it as real for us as they could, but—”

Yoongi shakes his head, the little gesture enough to cut Taehyung off. “No, you’re right. It’s different. Seeing their faces, in person not just through a screen, being able to reach out and touch them, it’s different. I missed it too,” he adds on.

“I forgot how it makes me feel,” Taehyung says, closing his eyes again. “Having all those eyes on me, hearing them cheer for us.” He shifts on the bed, his chest moving as he takes a breath, and Yoongi reaches out to take his hand, giving him something to ground himself. Taehyung turns his face towards him, still keeping his eyes closed. “Is it like that for you as well?”

Yoongi takes a moment to ponder the question. His immediate answer is yes, because what Taehyung is describing sounds a lot like the feeling of electricity prickling underneath his skin that he gets every time he’s on stage, every time the music sets in and he lets everything else go and just performs for the crowds.

Taehyung isn’t just referring to the immediate rush of performing though, but the aftermath, when the energy of the crowd keeps coursing through his veins, makes him want to keep dancing even though his body is at its limit, makes him want to go out and find a stranger to lose himself into.

Not that they really get to do that much given how risky it is, but Yoongi still remembers Hoseok talking about how he feels after concerts, how easy it is for the lingering excitement to slip into arousal. Yoongi tries not to think about how it might be the same for Taehyung.

“No,” he finally says, but he doesn’t let go of Taehyung’s hand even as he sees him open his eyes. “It’s not the same for me. But it’s still good.” He pauses, but he doesn’t bother trying to keep the longing out of his voice when he continues. “I really missed it.”

It’s not something Yoongi would have expected. He’s always liked being on tour, liked seeing their fans and performing for them, but he’s never made much of a secret out of how the constant pressure of a tour wears him down. He’d always assumed he’d be just as content staying in his studio, releasing his music out into the wild without any direct interaction, but he knows now that it’s not true.

“Just imagine what a real concert is going to be like.” Taehyung sounds dreamy, like he’s already picturing it, and Yoongi feels Taehyung’s fingers flex as he tightens his hold.

“I can’t wait,” Yoongi admits, squeezing Taehyung’s fingers back.

They sit like that for a moment, letting the silence uncurl between them and fill the room. It feels comfortable, feels good to be together and connected.

“You can stay here tonight if you’d like,” Yoongi offers. It feels like a natural conclusion to the way they are right now, but Taehyung’s whole body twitches like Yoongi just sprayed him with some water or slapped him out of his languid sleepiness.

“Really?” he asks, his eyes so wide and surprised that Yoongi can’t help but feel a little taken aback. It’s not like he’s that protective of his space that he never allows any of the others to stay with him. Jungkook once spent an entire month on tour sleeping in Yoongi’s bed every night just because he didn’t like being alone, and Jimin likes to cling to Yoongi whenever he’s had a drink and usually isn’t inclined to let go just because Yoongi goes to bed.

Hoseok and Namjoon have fallen asleep in Yoongi’s room more than just a couple of times while they were working on new music, mostly because it’s easier to keep talking about the thing that scare them in the dark, than because they were genuinely too tired to walk the few meters back to their own rooms.

Seokjin doesn’t mind the quiet of his own hotel room, but he still occasionally insists on having a roommate revival while they’re far from home, which Yoongi suspects is more for his own benefit than Seokjin’s.

But now that Yoongi thinks about it, it seems obvious that Taehyung is the exception to this rule.

“You know you can always come to me if you want to.” He’d thought that had been obvious but judging by Taehyung’s reaction it really hadn’t been, and Yoongi can’t figure out how that happened. It’s not like he’d ever had to explicitly invite any of the others, but out of all of them Taehyung seems like the person least likely to need an invitation with the way he usually slots himself into the space of whoever he’d like.

The smile on Taehyung’s face makes Yoongi feel warm and guilty at the same time, as does the quiet “Thank you, hyung,” that Taehyung breathes out.

Yoongi resists the urge to clear his throat. “Seriously, whenever you want.” It feels important to spell it out like that to avoid any further misunderstandings even if it makes him feel a bit ridiculous, too earnest in that way he sometimes is. Much to Yoongi’s surprise, Taehyung is the one who looks away, his gaze dropping down to the rumpled bedspread between them instead.

“What’s wrong?” Yoongi asks, resisting the urge to tighten his grip on Taehyung’s hand. If Taehyung wants to pull away, Yoongi’s going to let him, even if he doesn’t want to.

Taehyung’s hand stays in Yoongi’s, but his head stays bowed as he tangles his free hand in the fabric of the blanket. “I always want to,” Taehyung says, voice quiet but solid.

It takes a moment for Yoongi to understand, and then another to think it over and try to come up with another explanation. “You always want to stay with me,” he says, making sure they’re on the same page.

Taehyung’s shoulders lift in a shrug. “I thought you knew. I’m pretty sure the others all do.”

Yoongi doesn’t know what to make of that last part, but it’s not the important part anyway. “I don’t mind if you want to stay over sometimes. Jungkookie does it a lot as well.”

It’s supposed to be reassuring, but instead of looking relieved Taehyung lets out a snort. “Jungkookie just likes to cuddle,” he says, sounding fond.

“And you don’t?” Yoongi asks.

The dim light of the hotel room makes Taehyung’s eyes look impossibly dark when he finally looks at Yoongi again. “Hyung,” he says, words rolling off his tongue slow like molasses in the way he sometimes talks when he wants to make sure whoever he’s talking to is paying attention. “I don’t just want to cuddle you.”

Yoongi blinks at him. He opens his mouth to ask what Taehyung means, then closes it again. It’s not like Yoongi is naive, but Taehyung can’t actually mean what that sounds like. Not when he’s lying on top of Yoongi’s bed, propped up on his forearms, his eyes deep and piercing like he’s straight out of a painting.

But Taehyung doesn’t look away, just keeps staring at Yoongi, and there’s something in his gaze that Yoongi’s only ever seen in photoshoots or on stage, when he tries to project all the intensity he’s feeling outwards on purpose.

“Oh,” Yoongi says, and it feels loud and obvious in the quiet room.

Taehyung looks away. “It’s not like you didn’t know about that part. I haven’t exactly been subtle all these years.” Yoongi can see his chest move as he takes a deep breath, like he’s centering himself. “But it’s not like I expect anything from you. I know you don’t—” He shakes his head. “I’d still like to sleep here if that’s okay. I promise I’ll stay on my side of the bed.”

There are so many things Yoongi could say to that, like a friendly quip about how Jungkook and Jimin never stay on their side of the bed so Taehyung shouldn’t have to either, or ask what exactly Taehyung thinks Yoongi doesn’t do or feel, but all that comes out of his mouth is, “Years?”

“Hyung,” Taehyung says again and this time it sounds almost petulant. That would be more familiar territory, Yoongi would know what to do with that far more than he does with the way Taehyung is looking at him now. “I’ve always said you’re my favorite rapper.”

Taehyung has said that. Many times. There’s usually a bit of awe on his face, admiration or just giddiness, and it has always made Yoongi’s face feel too hot, his skin too large for his body. Taehyung has never said it while looking at Yoongi like he wants to eat him.

“I don’t want to fuck my favorite rapper.” Not that Yoongi hasn’t had his fair share of celebrity crushes when he was younger, but it’s never been about people he knows. If he’s ever wanted to sleep with Tablo, that desire has long passed and he’s glad for it. It would probably make their bi-monthly dinners a bit awkward.

Taehyung looks puzzled now, even if he still hasn’t taken his eyes off Yoongi. “You know it’s not just that, hyung,” he says, like he can’t figure out why Yoongi is pretending not to understand him.

Yoongi isn’t pretending. It must show on his face because Taehyung’s eyes widen and he lets out a little, “Oh.”

“I really didn’t know,” Yoongi says weakly, and watches as something in Taehyung’s face shutters closed. His hand feels cold and empty when Taehyung pulls away, breaking their connection.

“I didn’t mean to make it awkward,” Taehyung says, sounding apologetic, and everything about the way he’s holding himself is wrong. There’s none of the languid softness of him spread out on the bed left over, and whatever might have remained of the frantic post-concert energy is reigned in tightly by the stiff curve of his spine as he sits on Yoongi’s bed, looking down at his hands, politely clasped in his lap instead of reaching out to Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch him. Even after all these years together it’s still sometimes hard for him to understand Taehyung, to understand what he needs. Taehyung has never minded being around people the way that Yoongi does, but he takes criticism a lot harder, can’t bear to have people see him ashamed, not even his band members.

So Yoongi sits in silence and waits, watching as Taehyung puts himself back together, giving him the space to do it.

“I should go,” Taehyung finally says, and Yoongi understands the impulsive need for space to lick your wounds and reorganize your thoughts, but the tight smile on Taehyung’s face is all wrong, like it’s Yoongi who’s pushing him away.

“I meant it when I said you could stay if you’d like. That hasn’t changed.” Yoongi isn’t actually going to ask him to stay, but the invitation is clear. “We don’t have to talk about it,” he adds, even though a part of him needs long, detailed answers to questions he never thought to ask until this evening.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says again and he looks softer now, his shoulders not quite as tight, but still far from relaxed. “You know you want to talk about it. You’re worse than Namjoon-hyung at letting things rest. There’s no way you’re going to sleep next to me and not think about it.”

He’s right, of course. “I still don’t want you to go,” Yoongi replies, and this time he does reach out for Taehyung, puts his hand on his arm, not to hold him in place, but just to have a little bit of contact. “Seriously, I can pretend I don’t know if you want me to. Your feelings are your business, you don’t owe me anything.”

The look in Taehyung’s eyes is familiar, but this might be the first time Yoongi understands the full scope of the fondness contained within. “And you’re surprised I’m in love with you,” Taehyung says, fond and a bit teasing, and Yoongi would be happy to hear him sound back to his regular self if his brain wasn’t filled with white noise.

“Ah.” Taehyung looks down at the bedspread again, giving Yoongi some space to let his face do whatever it’s currently doing, unobserved. “You didn’t know about that part either.” “I thought it was maybe like Jungkook’s crush on Namjoon.” Yoongi’s voice sounds thin even to his own ears. “You know, mostly theoretical. Something that sounds good as a fantasy but would probably be really stressful to live up to in reality.”

“I think you’re seriously overestimating how ‘theoretical’ Jungkookie’s crush on Namjoon-hyung is,” Taehyung says drily. “He’s never going to do anything about it himself, but he’d be down in a heartbeat if Namjoon-hyung offered.”

“Is it like that for you as well?” Yoongi can’t help but ask.

Taehyung gives him a sheepish look. “With Namjoonie-hyung? He’s not really my type, and it would break Jungkookie’s heart.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “I meant with Jin-hyung actually,” he says, picking the first one of their members that comes to mind. And it’s not like it’s a particularly far-fetched assumption to make, given how Taehyung sometimes acts around Seokjin. Yoongi hadn’t thought it was anything sexual, but he’d never thought that about the way Taehyung sometimes looks at him either.

The reply startles a laugh out of Taehyung, which makes Yoongi feel much more smug than it probably should. “You know what? Yes, actually, I’d absolutely sleep with Jin-hyung if he offered. He’s just so handsome.” He lets out an exaggerated sigh and pretends to swoon into the bedding, and it’s so Taehyung that Yoongi can’t help but laugh.

Of all the ways they could have broken the tension between them, Yoongi hadn’t expected this, but he’s just glad it’s gone. He doesn’t like feeling awkward around any of the boys, but ever since he and Taehyung figured out how to talk to each other, any tension between them is always the worst.

“What about you?” Taehyung’s voice brings Yoongi out of his musings and he looks down at where Taehyung is now lying propped up on his elbows.

“Would I sleep with Jin-hyung if he offered?” Yoongi asks. It’s not a serious conversation, but it’s not quite a joke either, so Yoongi takes a moment to consider it. Taehyung shakes his head.

“I meant, who in the band would you have sex with if they asked you?” Taehyung seems to be back to his usual confidence now, none of the embarrassment from before lingering, but the expression on his face is curious, not expectant.

That question is a bit harder to answer. “To be honest, I try not to think about it too much,” Yoongi admits, letting himself fall back on the bed too, turning on his side to look at Taehyung. “I’ve always been really careful not to overstep any boundaries.”

The truth is that Yoongi loves them all so much, it probably wouldn’t take much for him to fall in love with any of them if he let himself. Physical attraction is a thing that’s always come easy to him. He’s always been quick to find little, individual details he loves about the people he’s been with, the charming curve of someone’s smile or the specific way they blink their eyes open in the morning, and all his group members are far from lacking in beautiful details.

“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with having a crush on a member,” he clarifies, just in case Taehyung thinks he’s criticizing him. “It just always seemed like too much of a risk to me. I’d rather just be friends than ruin something because I want too much, you know.”

Taehyung lets out a humming noise, not like he agrees with Yoongi, but more like an acknowledgement that he heard him. “I don’t think I can control my feelings like that,” Taehyung muses. “I just fall in love with people, doesn’t matter if I want to or not.”

“It’s not about falling in love, I can’t control that either,” Yoongi argues. He tries to choose his words carefully. “It’s more about not allowing myself to see the option. I mean, ever since I became a trainee, I used to walk around just assuming every guy I met was straight and wouldn’t be interested anyway, just because I can’t really risk being wrong about that.”

It’s strange to talk about this with Taehyung when they’re in the same situation, yet not. Taehyung had only started to figure out his sexuality when they were already idols, already subject to public scrutiny, always aware of cameras or strangers that might sell his private life for a moment of fame.

Yoongi already knew, way back when he was still going to school and one day found himself unable to look away from one of his classmates. The confusing part for him had been coming to Seoul and finding out that he also liked girls.

“I think I know what you mean.” Taehyung’s voice is thoughtful, serious. “But I still don’t think I could do that. I just fall in love with people all the time, even if I know it’s impossible.”

I’m not impossible, Yoongi wants to say, but swallows the words before they can reach his tongue. Things are different for them now, with private hotel rooms and apartments no one can get to unless invited, but the amount of eyes focused on them on the daily has only increased, might still be increasing, as unimaginable as that sounds.

And Yoongi can’t control his feelings, but he’s always been pragmatic about them, has always tried to keep them at arm’s length, allowing himself to feel however he feels, but trying not to let them make his decisions for him. Taehyung isn’t like that, he feels every emotion without needing to understand it, letting himself be swept up in the wonderful intensity, even if it hurts sometimes.

It’s scary and admirable at the same time.

“I think very few people are impossible for you,” Yoongi finally says. He doesn’t know if he expects Taehyung to be surprised by that admission, but Taehyung isn’t. He just looks at Yoongi like he’s trying to solve a puzzle, like Yoongi’s talking in a code he can’t quite crack.

“For a night maybe,” Taehyung says after a moment, and it should sound arrogant, but looking at him spread out on the bed, hair falling softly over his hooded eyes like he’s staring into a camera instead of at Yoongi, it seems ludicrous to imply anyone wouldn’t want him. “What if I want more than that?”

It still surprises Yoongi sometimes, how forward Taehyung can be. It’s something people often say about Yoongi himself, but that’s mostly because Yoongi doesn’t see value in beating around the bush about things that are important to him. With Taehyung it’s more that he’s always willing to share what’s on his mind.

What if I want more than that? It’s a loaded question, one Yoongi struggles to answer. “I’m sure there are many people who’d be more than willing to put up with the secrecy to be with you.” It’s technically an answer to Taehyung’s question and a cop-out at the same time.

The bed moves as Taehyung sits up, looking down at Yoongi. “I think I’d rather have a night with you than more with anyone else.” The way he says it makes it sound so mundane, like he’s stating a simple fact instead of making Yoongi’s heart beat out of his chest. “Even if all we do is sleep,” he adds on, casual, like it isn’t the most devastating thing he’s ever said to Yoongi.

It’s hard to look at him like this, bathed in the low glow of the bedside table lamps, looking soft and touchable and more beautiful than any piece of art either of them own. And if Yoongi wanted, he could have him. Any way he wanted. The thought alone makes him feel more drunk than an entire bottle of whiskey.

“I already told you you could stay.” It comes out as a whisper, but the smile that spreads across Taehyung’s face is loud. “Just to sleep.” It feels important to say, because Taehyung can’t possibly be that excited about sleeping in Yoongi’s bed. It wouldn’t even be the first time, even if it has been a while.

Taehyung’s smile doesn’t dim, but it softens, the look in his eyes more sleepy contentment than desire. “Just to sleep,” he repeats, making it sound like an improvement rather than a downgrade, and Yoongi doesn’t know how he could ever refuse him anything if he only asked for it, no matter how much he maybe should.

Yoongi looks away. “It’s late,” he says, like that matters. They have schedules the next day, but their staff knows that sleep can be an issue after a performance so they still have most of the morning off. If they wanted to, they could stay up for hours yet.

“You should get changed then,” Taehyung says, eyes lingering on Yoongi for a moment longer before he swings his legs off the bed, sitting up properly. “And me too. And brush my teeth.”

Yoongi still needs to take off his make-up, and he’d been considering a quick shower just to wash the exhaustion of the day off him, but now everything that keeps him from Taehyung’s warm presence in his bed seems a chore.

Taehyung hesitates at the door, like he’s worried Yoongi might not let him back in if he leaves for a moment, and Yoongi wants to reach out and kiss him. It’s not the first time that evening that he’s felt the desire, but Yoongi doesn’t know how he’d keep things from escalating if he did that.

Despite what Taehyung might say, Yoongi knows a quick one-night stand could never be enough, for either of them, and they still work together. Live together even, some of the time.

“Don’t make me wait too long,” he says instead, and some of the tension drains out of Taehyung.

“I’ll be right back.” When the door closes behind his back, Yoongi remains frozen in place for a second, just allowing himself to breathe.

The evening already felt surreal enough with the performance and the awards, but this thing with Taehyung feels even bigger somehow, like a potential tipping point in his life, not just their career.

But Yoongi knows better than to let his mind linger too long, knows how to keep himself from overthinking, so he just allows himself to feel the anxiety coursing through his body, breathing through it until it sinks under the surface again, hiding away from the sun like a deep-sea creature, before he goes to change out of his day clothes and into something comfortable enough to sleep in.

Unlike some of his band members, Yoongi isn’t really one for pajamas, prefers to sleep in a worn-out t-shirt and some loose sweatpants, but he can’t help but think that Taehyung looks cute in his matching top and bottoms when he knocks at the door again.

Some of it must show on his face because Taehyung gives him a look. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yoongi doesn’t stop himself from reaching out and running a hand through Taehyung’s hair, his fingers catching lightly on the soft strands. “I just think you look cute.”

Taehyung pouts at him, only strengthening the impression. “What if I wanted you to think I’m sexy instead?” he asks with an exaggerated outrage that Yoongi can’t help but laugh at.

He feels light now, like this is easy, because it is. Taehyung wants to— be with him. But in what capacity is left entirely up to Yoongi, so there’s no pressure behind it, only the opportunity for something new.

It still feels comfortable when they settle into bed, the soft mattress and clean-smelling sheets a nice reward after the day they’ve had, and Yoongi feels the tiredness setting into his bones properly, making his body heavy and his mind slow.

It takes him a moment to notice that it’s too quiet, no rustling of fabric as Taehyung gets settled, no quiet noises of delight as he cuddles into the bedding like he usually does, so Yoongi turns around. “Everything okay?”

Taehyung is lying on his back, body stretched out in a straight line and only his head turned towards Yoongi. “Yeah, sure.”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, which probably isn’t as effective now that he’s lying down, but the message still seems to get across because Taehyung shrugs. “Really, it’s all good, I just— I don’t want to keep you up.”

It’s not like Taehyung to get shy, but somehow that often makes the moments of self-consciousness worse, makes him freeze up entirely instead of just retreating the way Yoongi or Jungkook do. He never built up a tolerance for it, Yoongi supposes. He lets out a sigh. “Come here.”

Taehyung doesn’t move, just blinks wide eyes at Yoongi across the space of the bed between them. Yoongi lets out a huff, more fond than frustrated. “I already told you we could cuddle.”

“Yeah, but that was before—” Taehyung bites his lip, a gesture Yoongi has seen from him countless times before on stage or in front of a camera, fake coy, or provocative, but now he just looks unusually timid.

Yoongi hates it.

“Come here,” he says again, watching as Taehyung carefully shuffles closer until their shoulders brush. It’s an improvement, but Yoongi knows how Taehyung usually sprawls whenever he’s settling in to sleep. That is, whenever he’s not cuddled up to one of them.

If it were Jungkook, Yoongi would ask. For all that Jungkook loves physical contact, he’s just like Yoongi in the way he sometimes needs his space. Taehyung is not like that though, he’s always liked demonstrations better than words.

Taehyung lets out a little gasp when Yoongi grabs his arm and rolls over, draping it over his waist and pulling until they’re pressed close, front to back. It’s an intimate position, but not really unusual for Yoongi with any of the others. Hoseok and Jimin both love spooning, and Jimin insists on being the big spoon every time.

It doesn’t change the fact that he can feel Taehyung’s heartbeat against his ribcage, quicker than Yoongi would have expected after the exhausting day they’ve had.

“Is this okay?” He probably should have asked, shouldn’t have just assumed, but it’s too late to undo it now.

Instead of pulling away like Yoongi might have expected, Taehyung’s arms around him tighten. “Yes.” The word is quiet, whispered into Yoongi’s hair and a shiver runs through Yoongi’s body when Taehyung’s breath ghosts across his nape.

It feels different to have Taehyung wrapped around him like this now that Yoongi knows. He might have been able to convince himself that it’s just the tight hold Taehyung has around his waist that makes him more aware of all the ways in which their bodies are touching, but Jungkook has long ago mastered the art of being a complete octopus when cuddling, so Yoongi's had his fair share of slightly too tight embraces over the years.

The knowledge that Taehyung— He cuts off the thread of thought before he can spin it too far. Taehyung has a crush, likely mixed in with a bit of good old-fashioned hero worship. It’s easy to mistake that for love, especially with the life they’re living, with the close quarters they share. There’s no reason to read anything more into it.

Still, he’s far too aware of the way Taehyung’s knees press into the backs of his thighs, the way the fingers of Taehyung’s hand span almost all the way across his stomach with how Taehyung’s holding him. Maybe it’s the alcohol or the general exhilaration of the evening, but Yoongi can’t help but imagine what Taehyung’s hand would feel like wrapped around his hip instead, fingers pressing indents into the skin there.

It’s embarrassing. Yoongi has never had any trouble shutting down any sort of sexual thoughts he might have about one of his bandmates, has certainly never indulged them while he was with the bandmate in question, but for some reason he’s having a hard time not turning Taehyung’s words from before over and over in his head, can’t help but wonder what they mean. What they could mean.

“So, is this everything you’ve imagined?” Yoongi asks, just to break the tension in his mind.

It’s meant to be a joke, the self-deprecating kind that Yoongi has been trying to use less and less over the years, so it comes as a surprise when Taehyung whispers a soft, “Yes,” right into his ear.

There’s not a trace of humor in his voice. He sounds genuinely happy just to be wrapped around Yoongi. It has to be a joke.

“You can’t seriously be satisfied with this,” Yoongi says, and he knows it’s not smart, knows that he's goading Taehyung, is blurring all the lines he’s been so careful not to cross over the years, but everything about the situation makes him feel reckless.

Taehyung hums thoughtfully before answering, like he’s taking his time to actually think it over first. “I’m satisfied,” he finally says, then elaborates with, “I’m happy.”

Me too, Yoongi thinks, but that would be a ridiculous thing to say out loud so he keeps his mouth closed. “Pretty tame for a crush,” he muses. “I would have expected you to think about something more than just some cuddling.”

In terms of pushing boundaries, Yoongi might as well have taken a sledgehammer and started smashing holes in the walls Taehyung’s been trying to keep upright for the past couple of years. And still he somehow doesn’t expect the low chuckle Taehyung lets out, his breath fanning hot against Yoongi’s shoulder blade as he ducks his head a little, noticeable even through the fabric of his shirt.

“Oh trust me, cuddling isn’t the only thing I’ve imagined.” His voice is low and husky in a way Yoongi isn’t used to, and he knows he shouldn’t, but—

“Yeah? What else?”

Taehyung sucks in a sharp breath, his body tensing against Yoongi’s, and for a moment Yoongi thinks he’s finally overstepped, has finally called Taehyung’s bluff. Not because he doesn’t think that Taehyung is serious, but more because Taehyung has a tendency to dream, to create scenarios in his imagination that reality couldn’t possibly keep up with.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” There’s a careful sort of hesitation in Taehyung’s words, a different shade from when he’d been reluctant to come into Yoongi’s space or his bed. At least they both know they’re standing on the edge of a cliff.

Yoongi has never considered himself particularly brave. He likes to think things through, likes to make plans and have contingencies, has never been one to leap without looking down first.

“I asked, didn’t I?” There’s a moment of silence. It lasts long enough that Yoongi is beginning to think maybe Taehyung just won’t answer at all, maybe he’ll pretend to be asleep already and then in the morning they’ll both pretend this conversation never happened. Yoongi isn’t good at forgetting, but he’s good at compartmentalization.

“It’s not really one thing,” Taehyung finally says, voice quiet but serious. “And it’s been— I mean, I’ve had a lot of time to think about it. I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

It makes sense, in a way. With how much their relationship has changed over the years they’ve known each other his crush must have developed right along with it.

Taehyung’s thoughts must have crawled along the same lines. “You know, back when I still didn’t know you that well, I just thought you were so cool. I think I wanted to be you more than I wanted you.” The idea of Taehyung wanting to be him would have been amusing back then, and is downright ridiculous now. Yoongi thinks of the way Taehyung had looked earlier that evening, all dressed up and styled, like he could single-handedly replace every beautiful sculpture ever carved.

“And then when I realized that I wanted you too it was just— It made it easier, you know? Liking boys wasn’t really that scary when it was you because I already liked you so much. It just felt like the most natural thing in the world so I guess I just never stopped.”

The idea that this idle crush might have given Taehyung something to hold on and reassure him during all the years they’ve shared is strangely comforting.

“So you wanted a nice, older boyfriend to take care of you then?” A nice fantasy, one Yoongi has indulged in himself many times, especially when he was younger, but his own preferences are already recorded for the world to see.

Taehyung hums. “You weren’t usually that nice in my fantasies back then.” His voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t drop down into a suggestive whisper either, but Yoongi still feels his breath catch.

Given their amount of fame, Yoongi is no stranger to fantasies people might have about him. He knows his stage persona encourages it, as does the amount of supposed insight people get into their lives with their live streams and variety shows and documentaries. He’s never thought it was particularly uncomfortable, a bit flattering maybe, if he’s honest, but he’s also always known that that sort of admiration isn’t real, not in any tangible sense.

It feels very different, coming from Taehyung.

There’s some rustling behind Yoongi as Taehyung shifts around. “You know, I used to imagine you, like, catching me jerking off. And then instead of scolding me for not locking the door or waiting until everyone else was gone, you’d just frown down at me and tell me I was doing it wrong. And then you’d show me how to make it better, of course.”

There’s some amusement in Taehyung’s voice, but the laugh that leaves Yoongi’s chest is too breathless. “I know,” Taehyung says, leaning his forehead against Yoongi’s nape. “I really thought it was going to happen like that. I accidentally left a lot of doors unlocked until Namjoonie-hyung actually walked in on me one time, and then the fantasy wasn’t as fun anymore.”

The image of a scandalized looking Namjoon makes Yoongi laugh for real. “Oh no, that must have been an awkward conversation.”

“I think he was more embarrassed than me to be honest, but I was still more careful afterwards. I didn’t have that particular fantasy for that long anyway, because I realized you’re a complete softy.”

Taehyung’s tone is teasing but Yoongi still feels pleased by the admission. He’d never really wanted to be scary, not even intimidating, especially not to his bandmates, but he knows he didn’t always do the best job of being approachable back then. It’s a miracle Taehyung somehow had a crush on him, given how withdrawn Yoongi had been during their early years in Bangtan.

“Are you saying you don’t dream about me telling you how to get off anymore?” Another joke, something to distract Yoongi from dwelling too much on what he should have done differently years ago, but he can feel the way Taehyung’s entire body stiffens.

“No, I’m— I would still be really into that.” There’s a pause as Taehyung considers how much he wants to say. “Honestly, the meaner you were about it the better.” It’s probably a good thing Taehyung can’t see his face with the way they’re lying, because Yoongi’s cheeks feel like they’re on fire.

“Is it the rapper thing?” It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t know what he sounds like when he’s on stage, what he feels like when he gets really into it, whether live or in the studio.

“That’s probably part of it, yeah. You’re just really hot when you’re that intense.” Now that the dam has broken, Taehyung doesn’t seem like he wants to hold anything back anymore. Yoongi’s not quite sure he’s ready to deal with whatever he’s unleashed. Once more, Yoongi is glad they’re not lying face to face. Taehyung’s low voice is tempting enough, Yoongi doesn’t think he could resist if he could see the way Taehyung must be looking at him now.

“You know how many times I got off thinking about your Cyphers? Fuck, and then you had to go and rap about your tongue technology. I couldn’t look at your mouth for a month after that without getting hard. It made group dinner really awkward.”

Yoongi almost chokes on air, breathing in too quickly. “I didn’t notice.” Obviously, he knows Taehyung likes the Cyphers, knows that the third one is his favorite, but Yoongi has never thought Taehyung might like them like that.

“I didn’t want you to notice, that’s kind of the point of a secret crush. And it’s not just about that.” The blanket rustles as Taehyung shifts. “It’s also that I know you wouldn’t mean it, you know? Not really.”

Taehyung sounds so sure, but Yoongi still can’t keep himself from saying, “I wouldn’t. Never. You know I don’t want to make you feel bad.”

“I know. That’s what makes it such a good fantasy, right? You’d just be doing it for me, because you want me to feel good. Like, you could tell me that I’m useless or that I’m only good for fucking and maybe not even that, and I know you wouldn’t mean it, but you’d say it anyway because I want you to. That’s what makes it so hot. Well, part of it at least.”

The question is on the tip of Yoongi’s tongue, but he swallows it down before he can voice it. It’s not really any of his business if Taehyung is into degradation, if it’s something he’s dabbled in before. He asked about Taehyung’s fantasies, not his experience. As long as it’s all hypothetical, it’s not really that serious.

Yoongi doesn’t quite believe himself either.

“So it’s all about me being…mean?” Yoongi asks. It would make sense. Yoongi has no right to be disappointed that Taehyung’s crush is based more on his stage persona than on their interactions, should be pleased that Taehyung thinks he’s a safe person to fantasize about because he’s nice.

“Ah, no, but the rest is more embarrassing.”

Yoongi blinks. “More embarrassing than your fantasies about me degrading you?”

Taehyung groans. “Well, when you put it like that…”

“Not that there’s anything wrong with it,” Yoongi hastily adds. Not that Yoongi wouldn’t still like to do it, if only to see Taehyung’s reaction, see how his eyes widen, his pupils going huge and dark. Maybe his mouth would drop open in surprise or he’d drop to his knees, or— “It just makes me wonder what you personally would consider embarrassing.” Among other things.

“I see the point.” A pause. “Okay, but you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

Laughing isn’t really the reaction Yoongi is worried about. “Of course, I won’t.”

Taehyung takes a deep breath. It rustles the hair on the back of Yoongi’s head.

“To be honest it’s kind of the opposite. Instead of being mean, you’re really gentle.” His hand starts stroking along Yoongi’s stomach, warm even through the fabric of Yoongi’s shirt, and the gesture is so absentminded that Yoongi is certain Taehyung isn’t even doing it on purpose, is just lost in the fantasy.

“I like to imagine coming home to you after a long day, at the dorms or in a hotel or in my apartment, it doesn’t really matter. I just walk in and you’re there and you ask me how my day was, and then you kiss me, all soft and sweet like you’re— like you want to.” Yoongi’s pretty sure that last bit isn’t actually what Taehyung was going to say, but he’s not going to interrupt. He’s fairly certain he can guess anyway.

“You take all my clothes off and take me to bed, and then you let me touch you. I always want to touch you, did you know that? Really take my time with it and explore. I’d put my hands on every part of you if you’d let me.” That part is a surprise. Yoongi doesn’t really tend to think of his body as being particularly exciting. He doesn’t have defined muscles like Namjoon or Jungkook, doesn’t have the same graceful utility Jimin and Hoseok do, or the long leanness of Taehyung and Jin.

Something about his posture must have given him away, or maybe just the way he’d gone still against Taehyung, because Taehyung’s hand pauses. “Is this okay?” he asks, sounding worried, and Yoongi puts his own hand on top of Taehyung’s, holding him in place before he can pull away.

“I told you it was fine,” Yoongi says. “It’s still fine. It’s nice.” Taehyung’s arm across Yoongi’s waist gets heavier as he relaxes, allowing the full weight to rest on Yoongi’s side. “I like it when you touch me,” Yoongi adds, because it’s true.

It shouldn’t be a surprise, given how he’s invited Taehyung into his bed, pulling him close so they’re pressed together, but Taehyung lets out a groan. “You can’t just say things like that, not when we’re like this.”

“Why not?”

“Because you said this was just for sleeping, but I—” Taehyung swallows. “Hyung, you’re making me talk about my fantasies while I’m holding you. How am I supposed to stay calm?”

“I didn’t say you had to stay calm.”

Taehyung lets out another groan, turning away so he can bury his face in the bedding. “Hyung,” he says again, almost a whine this time, like he’s embarrassed. “I mean I’m getting hard.”

There’s really no need for him to sound so embarrassed about it, like he’s revealing a big secret. Taehyung’s hips are strategically placed so they’re not touching, and it’s not like Yoongi ever had any doubts about the reason for that.

“I know. I don’t mind. It’s not like it’s not the same for me.”

Taehyung goes entirely rigid, his fingers hovering above Yoongi’s t-shirt. “What?”

Yoongi doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. There’s been a lazy sort of arousal coursing through his body ever since Taehyung first started talking, his breath hot against Yoongi’s ear and his hand warming Yoongi’s skin. It’s not anything that has to lead to sex, but what they’re doing still feels charged and Yoongi’s been half hard ever since Taehyung first started with the degradation fantasies.

If Taehyung wasn’t quite so shocked, Yoongi would just take his hand and lead it downwards, let him feel how much Yoongi is enjoying his ideas, but he doesn’t want to freak him out.

“Taehyung-ah, I’m as into this as you are. You don’t need to worry so much. If anything makes me uncomfortable, I’ll tell you.”

“This is really okay? I thought you didn’t want to…you know.” It’s cute to hear Taehyung sound so shy after everything he’d said before.

“Just because you’re hard doesn’t mean we have to have sex. Or do you usually get off every time that happens?” Honestly, Yoongi can’t imagine how that would even work with their schedules. He’s certainly spent more than one awkward car ride with a boner because they had to be on set at three in the morning and he’d just happened to wake up like that.

“Ah.” Taehyung shifts. “No, not always. Sometimes I like to wait.” A beat passes. “Sometimes I imagine you making me wait. Telling me you’ll reward me if I’m good. That sort of thing.”

Yoongi can’t help but picture it, Taehyung’s eyes hazy with arousal, fidgeting as he tries to sit still, the outline of his hard cock trapped in the fabric of those baggy sweatpants he likes to wear. Waiting for Yoongi’s permission to touch himself.

If Yoongi’s maybe more than half hard at this point, no one can blame him.

“What sort of reward do you usually imagine?”

“Most of the time I don’t actually get that far. I just like having to wait, and I know you won’t actually reward me, so it’s not really part of the fantasy.” Yoongi shouldn’t be disappointed. He gets all of this from Taehyung while giving absolutely nothing in return. The last thing he should do is make demands. “But if you really want to know, I could think of a few things.” Taehyung’s voice is low, both in volume and tone, and sweet as honey.

Yoongi swallows. “I mean, if you want to tell me…” He trails his fingers across the back of Taehyung’s hand before wrapping them around his wrist, holding him in place. “I wouldn’t mind hearing about it.”

He can hear the slight shake in Taehyung’s next breath, the clear indication that Taehyung is as affected by this as he is. They’re definitely crossing boundaries now, if there ever were any to begin with, but Yoongi finds he doesn’t really care anymore.

“Okay.” Taehyung shifts again, leaning his forehead against the back of Yoongi’s head, strands of his hair tickling Yoongi’s nape. “When I’m, you know, trying to be good, I sometimes think about maybe if I can just wait a little longer you’ll let me blow you.”

Yoongi forces himself not to shiver. It’s not the direction he’d expected this to go, but that doesn’t make the idea any less enticing. “And if I’ve been especially good,” Taehyung continues. “Maybe you’ll even let me fuck you.” This time Yoongi can’t suppress a shiver.

God, it’s been too long. Between concert prep, traveling, and the interviews, it’s been far too long since he had time to find someone to hook up with, someone who could give it to him properly, the way he likes. He has a couple friends he sometimes hooks up with back in Seoul, but he hasn’t seen them in a while.

“It would be part of the game, obviously,” Taehyung continues. “I’d have to make you come first. I mean, I’d want to anyway, but it would be so much harder if I’m already that keyed up, you know. And I wouldn’t—” He stutters, a sudden bout of nerves overcoming him. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to presume, you’d let me— Maybe I could just, like, rub off on you, afterwards.”

The mere thought of it, of Taehyung desperate enough that he wouldn’t even need a hand, that just a bit of friction would be enough to get him there, is almost enough for Yoongi to turn around, so he can kiss Taehyung.

Yoongi has never been particularly vocal in bed, has never been one for showy moans or breathless whimpers unless they’re actually being forced out of him. But just because he doesn’t like to use his voice doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways he can use his mouth to let his partners know exactly how much he enjoys them.

He doesn’t want to turn around, doesn’t actually want to kiss Taehyung, but only because it would make him stop talking. So he does the next best thing and brings Taehyung’s hand up to his mouth. He presses his lips to the back of Taehyung’s hand, then turns it so he can kiss each fingertip in turn.

“Of course, I’d let you,” he says, his voice low and husky, from the overuse of the day as much as from arousal. “I’d love to see you so desperate you can’t even wait to get a hand on yourself.”

Taehyung lets out a sound that’s close to a whimper, his breath fanning hot against Yoongi’s neck. “But you’re so hard on yourself,” Yoongi adds, pressing a kiss to the palm of Taehyung’s hand. “What makes you think I wouldn’t let you come inside me?”

Taehyung moans, his hips jerking forward hard enough that for a brief second Yoongi can actually feel his hard cock press against his ass. Then the pressure is gone again, Taehyung’s whole body suddenly farther away. He probably would have pulled away entirely if it wasn’t for Yoongi’s grip on his hand.

“Don’t,” Yoongi says, and Taehyung goes entirely still, not even breathing as if he’s waiting for Yoongi to reprimand him. Which couldn’t be further from Yoongi’s mind. “Come back here, I want to feel you.”

It takes a moment for Taehyung to move again and when he does it’s cautious, slowly shuffling each part of his body closer until his chest is pressed to Yoongi’s back. Notably, he keeps his hips angled away, careful not to make any contact like Yoongi doesn’t already know how hard he is.

“Taehyung-ah,” he says, and feels the way just the sound of his own name sends a shiver through Taehyung’s body. “I said I want to feel you. All of you.” Still, Taehyung doesn’t move. Yoongi turns, just enough so he can look at Taehyung’s face, can see the way his eyes are closed, his lips parted as he breathes in large gulps of air, like he’s trying to build himself up to something.

If there was any doubt that Taehyung wants this, Yoongi might have stopped, might have tried to talk to him about it first, but everything from Taehyung’s initial confession to his more detailed fantasies and his instinctual reaction to Yoongi’s words makes it obvious that all he really needs is a little push. One Yoongi doesn’t at all mind giving him.

Instead of asking again, Yoongi reaches out behind him until he finds Taehyung’s hip, then lets his hand wander down to his thigh, wrapping around the back of it. He can feel the tense muscle underneath his fingers and tries not to be disappointed that Taehyung chose to wear long pants to bed.

Taehyung still hasn’t opened his eyes, but his breath has become more erratic, like he’s having trouble concentrating enough to keep it regular. The hand that Yoongi is still holding is just as tense, the fingers twitching, but Taehyung makes no attempt to pull away, content to let Yoongi move his body as he likes.

It’s an intriguing discovery, one that Yoongi would love to explore further some other time, but for now he has a specific goal in mind. With one decisive movement he rolls back over onto his front, pulling Taehyung’s thigh so it’s draped across Yoongi’s own, putting Taehyung partially on top of him, the cradle of his hips resting firmly against Yoongi’s ass. Among other things.

Taehyung lets out a strangled moan and buries his face in Yoongi’s neck, but he doesn’t pull away, just tries to stay still while both of them adjust to the new position.

It’s not like Yoongi didn’t know that Taehyung was…well-endowed. It’s impossible not to with the cramped space they used to share and the number of hasty backstage clothes changes they go through together. It’s another thing to feel his hard cock pushed up against Yoongi’s ass, feel the hot shape of it through the fabric of both their pants.

It’s almost embarrassing how good it feels, how the simple physical proof of desire shoots heat through Yoongi’s body, turning the lazy, tranquil arousal that’s been coursing through him into an open flame.

“Hyung,” Taehyung gasps. “I don’t—” He swallows, his breath tickling Yoongi’s neck. “I don’t think I can hold still like this.” It’s cute that he’s still so careful, still so worried about making Yoongi uncomfortable, as if Yoongi wasn’t the one who’d put him in this position.

“Then don’t. You can do whatever you want as long as you keep talking to me.” Yoongi takes the opportunity to bring Taehyung’s hand back to his mouth, pressing a kiss against his open palm. “And if you say something I like, maybe I’ll reward you.”

Taehyung’s arm tenses, but he makes no move to pull away. If anything he only pushes closer, and Yoongi closes his eyes when he feels Taehyung’s cock press against him properly. If Yoongi were less tired, if this whole thing between them wasn’t so new and fraught, and if they didn’t have a full day of schedules the next day, he’d love for Taehyung to actually fuck him for real.

Under the circumstances, the slow heat of Taehyung pressing against him is just right.

With the way Yoongi is holding on to his hand, and his other arm trapped against Yoongi’s body, Taehyung doesn’t really have a lot of leverage to thrust against Yoongi, but the way he starts slowly rolling his hips into him still feels good.

“Ah.” Yoongi tries to sound reprimanding though he feels far too good for it to be particularly convincing. Still, Taehyung freezes instantly when Yoongi’s hand settles on his hip. “You’re not talking. You don’t get your reward unless you talk to me, remember? You have to earn it.”

With the way they’re lying, Yoongi can feel the way Taehyung’s cock twitches at his words, and it’s almost as gratifying as the low groan he lets out.

“Hyung, I don’t— I can’t focus like this,” Taehyung whines, but he manages to keep his hips still, tries to get himself back under control as Yoongi waits him out without saying anything. Yoongi can hear the click of his throat as he swallows. “I’ll try, okay? What— What do you want to hear?”

Yoongi hums, considering. He rubs his thumb along the palm of Taehyung’s hand, splays his fingers as he thinks about it. “You never told me what exactly you want to do with me in your one fantasy. The one where I’m being gentle with you? Or is touching me the only thing you’ve thought about?”

It’s a bit of a shot in the dark, possibly the least charged of Taehyung’s fantasies, but also the one Yoongi’s the most curious about, the intimacy of it appealing more than anything related to his stage persona.

“Ah, no. Not just touching.” Taehyung leans his forehead against Yoongi’s neck again, tries to slow his breathing with little success as far as Yoongi can tell. “Obviously I’d also want to get my mouth on every part of you.”

“Obviously,” Yoongi echoes, the images already playing in his head, of his hand in Taehyung’s hair, guiding him to all the places he likes to be kissed.

“Yeah.” Taehyung sounds breathless, like just the thought is already a lot for him. “I’ve thought about it so much. I’d want to leave marks all over, I bet it’d look so obvious on your skin too, like some sort of proof that you’d let me.”

Yoongi knows he does, has always had to be careful not to let his partners leave any obvious hickeys, but the idea of just letting Taehyung do as he pleases and seeing the evidence of it the next day is more than appealing. And Taehyung is doing so well, telling him all about it. His grip on Taehyung’s hips tightens as he pulls him closer, guiding his hips into a soft rolling motion. Taehyung lets out a moan that almost drowns out Yoongi’s, “I’d love to let you.”

The sensation of Taehyung’s cock rocking against him is distracting enough for Yoongi that he momentarily worries about Taehyung getting too distracted to talk again, but just as he’s about to open his mouth to prompt him, Taehyung lets out a long exhale.

“I want it so bad,” he gasps. “Just, fuck, everywhere. Your shoulders, your chest, your stomach. Your thighs, fuck, do you know what it does to me every time you wear shorts? I keep thinking about what it would be like if you’d let me push them up just a little, would let me kiss you there until you’re all bruised up and sensitive, and then you’d just push me away and go on with your day, but I’d still know.”

Again, not quite where Yoongi had expected this to go. He knows people can get a bit weird about his legs, is secretly proud that he managed to turn something he maybe should have been embarrassed about in the industry they’re in into something people like about him. He hadn’t expected quite this intense a reaction though. Not that he’s complaining.

“Have you ever thought about fucking my thighs?” Yoongi asks, genuinely curious. Taehyung’s moan gets muffled by the collar of Yoongi’s shirt and Yoongi can feel the fabric get damp from the way Taehyung is panting into it. He gives Taehyung time to get his bearings back, allows a few more rolls of Taehyung’s hips against him — still more controlled than Yoongi would have expected with how overwhelmed he seems otherwise — before he decides the time is up.

He pulls Taehyung’s hand close to his mouth again, and closes his teeth around one of his knuckles, digging in hard enough to sting, to get his attention, but not hard enough to leave a mark that will outlast this evening. “I asked you a question,” he says, voice hard, even if it’s difficult with the way Taehyung whimpers at the attention.

“I haven’t,” Taehyung gasps out, releasing Yoongi’s shirt and leaning his head back like he needs a brief respite from being so wholly wrapped up in Yoongi. Briefly, Yoongi considers grabbing his hair to pull him back in, can already imagine the noise Taehyung might make at that, the way his eyes would look, hazy and overwhelmed, if Yoongi were to look at him while doing it. He doesn’t though, just waits to see if Taehyung will keep talking this time.

“I haven’t,” Taehyung repeats, sounding a bit more coherent. “I wasn’t— I didn’t ever really get that far. The fantasy’s more about what you’d look like, rather than— you know.”

Yoongi feels the corners of his mouth twitch. It’s cute how careful everything Taehyung tells him seems. Almost like he thinks he wants something illicit, though there’s no trace of the shame that would be present were that the case. “You do want to though, right? Yoongi asks, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Yes. So much, I—” Taehyung’s hips jerk forward, more intense than the gentle grind he’d been settling into, and he stills as if to compensate for it before getting back on track. “I won’t be able to stop thinking about it now.” It sounds like a confession, like it isn’t what Yoongi had been aiming for all along anyway.

For a moment, Yoongi debates just telling him to go for it. It would be messier than what they’re doing right now, would involve a level of clean-up afterwards that Yoongi isn’t really looking forward to, cozy and warm in his bed as it is, but it might still be worth it for Taehyung’s reaction alone. All Yoongi really has to do is direct Taehyung to where the lube is hidden in his luggage and push down his pants.

But the thought of Taehyung’s warm body leaving the bed even for just one minute is too much of a downside for Yoongi to suggest it. “Maybe another time,” he says, and the way Taehyung’s lips press to the nape of his neck in what might be a kiss doesn’t feel like disappointment.

“Don’t think I’d last anyway,” Taehyung gasps, the movement of his hips getting stronger, more insistent as he’s getting close. Yoongi could just let him. Could just tell him to do it and enjoy the feeling of Taehyung coming, pressed against Yoongi’s ass, even if there are still layers of clothes separating them.

“You wouldn’t if I told you not to,” Yoongi says instead, and Taehyung’s whole body twitches before it stills.

“Are you telling me not to?” he asks, voice strained but not like he’s in pain, more like he’s too excited to breathe properly.

Yoongi hums. “I think I want to enjoy this a bit more first,” he muses, like he isn’t just as desperate as Taehyung. He’s glad they’re not face to face, that he doesn’t have to make an attempt to control whatever his face is doing to keep the illusion of calm. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that Taehyung would be into Yoongi acting at least somewhat disinterested.

Yoongi isn’t sure what he expects Taehyung’s reaction to that to be, maybe a groan at being denied, or maybe an excited gasp. What he doesn’t expect is the way Taehyung stills and the quiet, hopeful reverence in Taehyung’s voice when he says, “You’re enjoying this?”

That gives Yoongi pause. “Of course I am.” It’s obvious. It should be obvious, at least. Maybe he doesn’t have his hard dick pressed against Taehyung to show him how much he likes it, but— “I wouldn’t be doing this if I wasn’t enjoying it.”

“No, that’s— I mean, I’m not— You’re not getting off like I am.” Taehyung’s breath catches. “Unless you’ve been touching yourself this whole time and I just didn’t notice.”

Yoongi doesn’t think there are many things Taehyung wouldn’t notice about him at the moment, not with the way they’re basically breathing as one. “I haven’t,” he says anyway, just to confirm. “But it still feels good for me too. You feel good.”

He can feel the shudder that goes through Taehyung’s body at his words, but Taehyung sounds hesitant when he says, “But I’m not doing anything to make you feel good.”

There are many things Yoongi could say to that, maybe explain how he likes the feeling of Taehyung’s cock against him, the slight friction of his own pants rubbing against his hard cock at each movement, how it’s not enough to get off, but still feels good. It would only be half the truth though, and not the half that would make Taehyung worry about it less.

“You know how all the fantasies you’ve told me about are always about making me feel good?” Yoongi says instead. “Like the one where you’re allowed to fuck me as a reward for being good but you still have to make me come first? Or the one where you mark up my thighs until I’m begging you for more?”

He’s pretty sure Taehyung hadn’t phrased it exactly like that, but it still seems to have the desired effect, judging by the noise Taehyung makes. Yoongi presses a kiss to the palm of his hand. He means for it to be soothing, but judging by the way Taehyung’s entire body twitches as soon as his lips make contact, it probably isn’t.

“What makes you think it isn’t the same for me?” he asks, voice quiet, like he’s letting Taehyung in on a secret. Maybe he is. “Why wouldn’t I like knowing I make you feel good? That I can get you off just by talking pretty and letting you grind against my ass? Wouldn’t you like that if it was the other way around?”

“Yeah, but I love you,” Taehyung says, like it’s the easiest thing in the world. “I’ve been in love with you for years, I’ve always— It’s different, for me.”

It would be easy for Yoongi to just return the sentiment, to tell Taehyung that he loves him too. He’s done it before, of course, and he meant it too, but the stakes hadn’t been so high back then, the consequences of getting it wrong only a bit of wounded pride instead of the potential upheaval of his and Taehyung’s entire relationship.

And he’d been talking about a different kind of love anyway.

Yoongi’s sure that he could love Taehyung in this new way too, know it as surely as he knows that he loves music, but it wouldn’t be fair to pretend his feelings for Taehyung are exactly the same.

“It’s not,” Yoongi finally settles on. “Or maybe it is, I don’t know. I just know that I’m enjoying this, and I’m pretty sure you are too.” He pauses, gives Taehyung a chance to argue, but Taehyung stays silent. “And I thought you were the one who was supposed to do the talking.”

“I don’t think I can concentrate enough to do that.” It sounds almost like a confession, and Yoongi’s entire body feels hot at the idea alone of Taehyung wanting him so much he loses the ability to fulfill even this relatively easy task. Something else that would be fun to play around with another time maybe, but Yoongi never likes setting people up for failure.

“How about I do the talking instead then and you tell me if I’m getting it right, yeah?” It’s not something he would have suggested before, not really the sort of vulnerability he enjoys with new partners, but nothing about Taehyung feels like it would with a stranger.

“Yes, but can I— Do you want me to stay still? Or keep quiet? Please, I just want to give you something too. Anything.” There’s a desperation in Taehyung’s voice now, something different from before where he was just close to coming, and after being fine with it all evening it suddenly feels terrible to not see his face, so Yoongi finally turns around to look at him.

It’s quite the maneuver, given how entangled they are and how little Yoongi wants to lose even the smallest bit of closeness, so when Taehyung tries to move back give Yoongi some space, Yoongi just digs his fingers into the sharp jut of his hipbone and keeps him in place.

Just like Yoongi had expected, actually looking at Taehyung’s face is devastating. His cheeks are flushed, his hair sticking to his forehead a bit from how he’d worked up a bit of a sweat, and his lips look plush and red from Taehyung biting them to keep quiet. There’s nothing that could possibly compare to the look in his eyes though.

Yoongi has come to expect a certain level of intensity from Taehyung, knows the way Taehyung feels every single emotion so strongly and usually has few qualms about letting it show with his entire body. His face might look like it’s carved from marble when he’s posing, but Yoongi knows how expressive he can be when he wants to.

Right now, Taehyung looks completely overwhelmed in a way Yoongi’s never seen before. He’s never really understood what people meant when they talked about someone’s eyes burning before, but he’s pretty sure the amount of sheer want in Taehyung’s eyes could set a whole forest on fire.

It would be too much if it was all zeroed in on a specific spot, but the way Taehyung’s eyes flicker over Yoongi’s face, lingering on his mouth, the curve of his cheek, the corner of Yoongi’s eye like he just can’t decide which detail he wants to drink in first, makes Yoongi feel almost weightless.

Before he can even think about it, Yoongi reaches out, his hands cupping Taehyung’s face, and Taehyung seems to calm at that, meeting Yoongi’s eyes with a touch of something that seems almost like shyness. It should be ridiculous that he could still feel shy after what they’ve been doing all evening, but maybe Yoongi hasn’t been doing a good enough job of showing Taehyung how much he wants him back.

You don’t need to give me anything, is what he’d meant to say, but what actually comes out of his mouth is, “You’re giving me more than enough.”

Taehyung’s eyes close for a moment, like he’s drinking in the words, or maybe Yoongi’s touch against his skin, and when they open all of the intensity is back, along with a laser focus that makes Yoongi shiver.

“Whatever you want,” Taehyung says, and his voice isn’t more than a whisper, but the tone is insistent, like it’s of vital importance that Yoongi hears him. “Tell me anything you want, I’ll give it to you.”

It’s far too tempting an offer from someone as beautiful and magnetic as Taehyung. There’s a thousand thoughts already running through Yoongi’s mind, lingering on Taehyung’s soft lips, the low hum of his voice, his long, elegant fingers, the strong set of his shoulders, and his hard cock that Yoongi can still feel against his thigh. Yoongi doesn’t think he could ever stop coming up with things he wants from Taehyung given the chance.

“I just want to watch you,” he finally settles on, because now that they’re face to face there’s nothing he wants more than to see Taehyung’s reactions, real and up close. He stops cradling Taehyung’s face and runs the tips of his fingers from the top of his cheek down to the edge of his jaw. “Just let me see you, yeah? Don’t hide.”

He knows he’s asking for a lot, knows how much he himself dislikes it whenever someone pays close attention to him at a vulnerable moment, but Taehyung only nods, looking not even a little nervous at the prospect, and maybe Yoongi is the one who’s out of his depth here after all.

Before he can let the anxiety bubble up again, Yoongi grabs Taehyung’s hip again, pulling him close until Taehyung’s cock is firmly pressed up against Yoongi’s thigh, and Taehyung must have taken Yoongi’s plea to heart because he doesn’t try to hide his reaction.

His mouth falls open to let out a low moan and his eyes close for a moment like he’s trying to savor the feeling. “That’s good,” Yoongi praises, and watches as the words wash through Taehyung. “Ah, so you like me praising you too, huh?”

“Yes.” Taehyung’s voice comes out as a hiss, as he quickly sucks in some air, and with a soft touch of encouragement his hips start rolling again, his cock pressing into Yoongi’s thigh. “So much, it’s—” He breaks off, too breathless for words, his mouth open, and Yoongi wants to kiss him so bad. He doesn’t.

“I’d mean it, you know? I wouldn’t say something I didn’t,” Yoongi nudges, and Taehyung nods, quick and desperate.

“Yeah, that’s what— what makes it so good. I’d know you’re not just humoring me, that I actually earned it.” Yoongi gets the sentiment, can already think of a range of small, easy orders that Taehyung would fulfill so beautifully for him, the way he’d look when Yoongi told him he’d done a good job.

Yoongi reaches out for Taehyung’s hand again, and even if Taehyung seems reluctant to let go of where his fingers are digging into the curve of Yoongi’s waist, he relinquishes his hold at the slightest prompt. Instead of intertwining their fingers like he’d originally planned to, Yoongi just holds Taehyung’s hand as if he’s inspecting it, running a finger of his knuckles.

“You have such beautiful hands,” he says, and looks at Taehyung’s face just in time to catch his reaction, the quick breath he sucks in. “I like how they felt wrapped around me here.” He pushes Taehyung’s hand down so it brushes over his hip, his waist, settling on Yoongi’s stomach. “And now here too. I wonder if they’d feel just as good somewhere else too.”

Taehyung’s fingers twitch, brushing harder against the soft fabric of Yoongi’s shirt, but Yoongi doesn’t push his hand further down, drags it up over his chest instead. “I’m pretty sensitive, you know,” Yoongi muses. “And I bruise really easily, but you know that already. So maybe I shouldn’t even let you put your mouth on me, it’d be such a hassle for the makeup noonas if you can’t control yourself.” He pauses with Taehyung’s palm resting against his sternum. “Think you could make me feel good with just your hands?”

Taehyung lets out a moan, his finger digging into Yoongi’s skin. “Yes, I— I want to try.”

Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of his hand to reward him. “Good, I’d like that.” He brings Taehyung’s hand up even further until it’s cupping his cheek and Yoongi leans into the light pressure of it, enjoys the feeling of the slightly rough skin against his face.

Taehyung’s thumb brushes against the seam of his lips, the callouses catching against Yoongi’s upper lip and suddenly Yoongi doesn’t want to play it quite so safe anymore. There’s nothing safe about what they’re doing anyway. It doesn’t matter if he fucks Taehyung or never even touches his cock, they’ve jumped off the cliff, there’s no going back, and all they can hope for is a soft landing.

Yoongi opens his mouth and wraps his lips around Taehyung’s thumb. The sound Taehyung makes might be the most gratifying thing Yoongi’s ever heard, so full of desperation, and the harsh jerk of Taehyung’s hips only underlines the wild look in his eyes.

“Ah,” Yoongi says, turning his face to the side, so Taehyung’s entire hand falls away from his face. “Would you react like that too if I was sucking on something else? Because that would be terrible blowjob etiquette. I expect better from you.” It feels harsh, saying it, especially since Yoongi wouldn’t really mind if Taehyung wanted to be a bit rougher with him, but the way Taehyung’s eyes fly open makes it worth the slight discomfort.

“No, I— I wouldn’t— If you ever— I mean, if you wanted to—” Yoongi clicks his tongue as if in annoyance and Taehyung falls silent instantly.

“You know, words aren’t really gonna convince me that you can control yourself. You’re gonna have to do better.” Yoongi gives Taehyung an expectant look until he nods, clearly unsure if he’s allowed to speak already and frantic not to displease Yoongi.

It’s a heady feeling, having someone as gorgeous as Taehyung hanging on his every word. The only thing Yoongi could compare it to would be an entire stadium full of people chanting his name, and that has always felt a lot less personal.

“So?” Yoongi prompts. “Are you gonna show me you can behave now?” Taehyung nods again, holding himself completely still otherwise and Yoongi can feel the tension in his body where they’re touching.

Yoongi hums like he’s considering his next move. “I guess you can prove it to me by staying still and just letting me enjoy you, yeah?” Yoongi doesn’t even give him time to nod again before he moves even closer, slotting their bodies together with his thigh firmly pressed between Taehyung’s legs, their faces close enough now that Yoongi can feel Taehyung’s erratic breath hot on his face.

“You can come whenever you want to, but don’t move,” Yoongi says, voice firm, then thinks it over. “Unless it’s too much, obviously. I don’t— Obviously you can move if you don’t like it, or—” “Hyung,” Taehyung interrupts, and his voice sounds thin with something besides just the desperation. “I like it. So much. And I trust you.” There’s a softness to the look in his eyes now, a strange fragility that Yoongi’s never seen on him before, and he has to look away from the intensity of it.

“Yeah, well.” Yoongi clears his throat. “Don’t move then.” It’s difficult to get back into it, to find that persona that has an easy time taking charge and telling Taehyung what to do. How had he even slipped into that in the first place? It’s not like Yoongi’s never dommed anyone before, but it usually takes him a bit longer to get really into it.

But just looking at Taehyung answers that question for him. Taehyung isn’t looking up at him like he expects Yoongi to take control and fulfill his every fantasy, he just looks entirely overwhelmed but pleased about it, like he knows Yoongi’s going to take care of him. And Yoongi will.

He rocks forward experimentally, putting pressure on Taehyung’s cock, and enjoys the way Taehyung bites his lip in response. “You can make noise, I want to hear you. Just don’t move your hips,” Yoongi says. “Be good for me.”

The next time Yoongi rocks forward, Taehyung lets out a whimper. His head tips backwards, exposing his throat. Yoongi wants to get his lips on it, press his teeth against the thin skin and feel Taehyung’s pulse against his lips. But not yet.

“How close are you?” he asks, pressing up into Taehyung with more rhythm. It’s hard to make a guess, Taehyung had seemed so into it the entire time, but so controlled as well, disregarding the little slips whenever Yoongi had been teasing him too much.

“Close. Really, really close.” Taehyung’s eyes are closed, his mouth open like he can’t quite get enough air. “I’m— I could— Whenever you tell me to.”

That makes Yoongi frown. “I already said you could come whenever. I thought you were a better listener than that.” The disapproval in his voice is clear, but not particularly harsh. Maybe he can lean into it some other time, actually punish Taehyung for something if he wants that, but Yoongi feels far too enamored with this new, pliant, version of him right now to be anything approaching mean.

“I know, but I—” Taehyung’s breath hitches as Yoongi pushes against him again, but he manages to keep talking. “Please. That’s all I need. Just— Tell me. Please, hyung.”

This seems like the sort of thing established partners might do, something that requires a level of reading each other’s cues and knowing each other’s bodies that Yoongi doesn’t have with Taehyung. It feels risky, after all the setup of Yoongi telling him to behave, to prove that he can follow Yoongi’s orders, like he’s setting Taehyung up to fail.

It feels even more precarious given the look in Taehyung’s eyes, the pure want and adoration in the way he looks at Yoongi, his face open and unafraid, like he trusts Yoongi to take care of him. Yoongi doesn’t want to fail him.

But trust should go both ways, Yoongi reminds himself, and even if Yoongi doesn’t know Taehyung’s body well enough to make this call, Taehyung does.

“If you’re making demands I need you to hold on a bit longer.” Yoongi can feel the responding shiver that runs through Taehyung’s body with how close they are, and he puts a hand on Taehyung’s hip to steady him, just in case he needs it. “Just a bit. For me.”

The truth is, Yoongi can’t wait to see Taehyung come, can’t wait to see the look of ecstasy cross his face, the way his body would jerk and shake with it, and then finally the serene relaxation of a good orgasm. Yoongi’s determined to make it good for him.

“Just a little longer,” he says again, still moving against Taehyung’s cock in shallow, languid movements. Taehyung’s lying back with his eyes closed, panting, and it’s good, it’s so good, but Yoongi still wants more, something else he can save away in his brain, just in case this is the only time he’ll get to hear, to see what Taehyung’s like when he’s like this.

Before he can overthink it, Yoongi leans in to press his lips against Taehyung’s throat, just a soft touch, barely any contact, but Taehyung moans, low and raspy. “Hyung.”

“Good,” Yoongi says, not really in response to anything. Maybe just to Taehyung being himself. “Good. Now come for me.”

A part of him doesn’t actually think it can work, doesn’t know how just his voice could make all the difference for Taehyung, be the last little push he needs to go over the edge.

Taehyung lets out another moan, long and loud, and then his hips start jerking against Yoongi’s thigh, and Yoongi can feel the strange warmth of it even through the fabric of both their pants. Yoongi looks up just in time to see Taehyung’s face screwed up in pleasure, his eyes still shut, his hair all messed up from how he keeps turning his head, and Yoongi drinks it all in, commits it to memory.

It’s not enough. Even feeling Taehyung come against him, knowing that he made it happen, isn’t enough. Yoongi’s felt strangely calm the entire evening, in control, even when his heart was beating out of his chest, but seeing Taehyung like this breaks something in him open.

He surges up to kiss him, pressing their lips together with a passion he hasn’t allowed himself to feel before. He expects Taehyung to be too out of it to really return the kiss, but Taehyung doesn’t even need a second to adjust. His lips are pressing back greedily right away, his tongue pushing at the seam of Yoongi’s lips, turning the kiss dirty and open-mouthed right away.

Taehyung’s still gasping, but his hands grip the sides of Yoongi’s head, pulling him close, like the last thing he could possibly want was some room to breathe and Yoongi has no intention of moving away.

Yoongi can’t remember the last time he’s been kissed like this, isn’t sure he’s ever had someone want him this much and be so unafraid to show it. It’s addictive but few parts of Taehyung aren’t. The arousal is still coursing through Yoongi’s body and he’s hard in his sweatpants, but it feels like an afterthought, secondary to the way Taehyung’s holding him, kissing him, still rolling his hips against Yoongi’s thigh even though he must be getting too sensitive for the pressure by now.

In the end it’s Taehyung who breaks the kiss, but he doesn’t move away, keeps their faces close together so they’re breathing the same air. There’s something too intense about the way Taehyung’s looking at him, his eyes fixed on Yoongi like he’s seeing right to his core and Yoongi has to force himself not to look away.

They don’t say anything, just lay there in silence, until Taehyun finally breaks it. “Thank you,” he says, sounding almost awed, and something about that feels wrong, makes Yoongi finally look away.

“It’s not like I was doing you a favor,” he says, keeping his voice level. They’re still close enough that he’s practically saying the words into Taehyung’s mouth.

“Right.” Something about Taehyung’s voice is wrong too, a strange timidness running through it that shouldn’t be there. Taehyung’s hand slips away from his face, resting lightly on Yoongi’s shoulder like he’s not quite sure he’s allowed to touch anymore, and that’s even worse. “You didn’t, uhm…”

“It’s fine,” Yoongi says. “Don’t worry about it.” It’s not that Yoongi wouldn’t want Taehyung to touch him again, but just the thought of making this about Taehyung returning the favor makes the whole thing feel transactional to him. He really should have thought this through better.

“Right,” Taehyung says again, and this time his voice sounds hollow, which is even worse. He shifts, extricating Yoongi’s thigh from between his legs, and rolls onto his back. It barely puts any distance between their bodies, but Yoongi still feels like the hotel room is a lot colder without the heat of Taehyung’s skin so close to him. “I— I should get going then.”

It takes a moment for Yoongi to understand he isn’t just talking about a quick trip to the bathroom to get cleaned up and maybe change his pajama pants. He sits up. “I thought you were staying the night.” It’s not that Yoongi doesn’t know he broke something, but he didn’t realize he’d fucked it up so badly. The thought makes him feel vaguely sick.

Taehyung isn’t looking at him, is staring up at the ceiling instead though Yoongi’s pretty sure he’s not actually focused on it. “Hyung,” Taehyung says, and his voice is small and thin, almost pained. “I can’t.”

And Yoongi doesn’t like to push, doesn’t ever want to demand something Taehyung might not be willing to give, but he can’t just let Taehyung leave. “I’m sorry,” he says. Taehyung’s eyes close like he’s in pain. “I’m sorry it wasn’t what you wanted.”

Taehyung’s eyes fly open. “No,” he says, sitting up. “Hyung, of course it was what I wanted, I—” He shakes his head, bites his lip. “This isn’t— You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Yoongi snorts. “Taehyung-ah, you can’t even look at me right now.” Of course, Taehyung takes this as a challenge, fixing Yoongi with his deep, serious eyes, and Yoongi has to force himself not to look away.

“This isn’t your fault,” Taehyung says, tone firm like Yoongi will believe him if he just says it insistent enough. Yoongi looks down at the bed, at the rumpled sheets and the temporary indent both their bodies have left behind.

“Guess reality isn’t quite like the fantasy, huh?” he mumbles, and he tries not to make it sound self-deprecating, but he knows he’s not successful. It’s not like he didn’t know this could happen, doesn’t know why he’d been naive enough to assume Taehyung would actually be satisfied with something like this, doesn’t know why he’d let himself get swept up in the feeling. So much for being the realist of the group.

“Hyung,” Taehyung says again, and his hand closes around Yoongi’s wrist, not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough that Yoongi couldn’t shake it off if he wanted to. “It was so much better than the fantasies.” Yoongi looks down at Taehyung’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, a strange reversal of the way Yoongi had held onto him earlier. “Seriously, I need you to believe me. Can you look at me?”

Taehyung is a very hard person to deny. Or maybe Yoongi is just weak for him, in a way that goes way deeper than just being susceptible to a beautiful face. Yoongi looks up.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeats, looking heartbreakingly earnest. “I just want too much, that’s all.”

It’s possibly the strangest It’s not you, it’s me speech Yoongi has gotten yet. “I’m not the one who’s kicking you out.”

Taehyung deflates a little, his shoulders curling inward. “You have to let me keep at least some of my pride, hyung. Please.”

And Yoongi gets the urge to retreat, probably understands it better than Taehyung himself does. It would probably fix things between them too, if he just let Taehyung go. Taehyung would go to his room and lie in his bed and rearrange tonight’s events into a shape he can live with, make it a grand story, an experience, and then things would go back to normal. There might be some initial awkwardness as Taehyung played out the part of his story where he was heartbroken by his unrequited love and learned to heal in time, and then they’d be okay again.

It’s the neatest solution Yoongi can hope for, under the circumstances. He hates it.

“I don’t want you to leave.” It’s probably not fair, but it’s the truth. “I know you feel like maybe this was too much, or maybe it’s that I can’t really give you what you want— Actually I’m not really sure what you think, because you haven’t actually told me.”

That probably isn’t fair either. Yoongi knows Taehyung isn’t as comfortable dissecting his feelings as Yoongi is, knows he doesn’t have the same urge to analyze, to understand, but Yoongi can’t just let this end on a sour note, not without at least trying to fix it.

“Hyung.” There’s a tremor in Taehyung’s voice, and it’s almost enough to make Yoongi stop pushing. “Please don’t make me say it.”

His grip on Yoongi’s wrist has loosened enough that it’s easy for Yoongi to extricate it. There’s no resistance when Yoongi reaches for Taehyung’s hand in turn, curling their fingers together. “Holding hands,” he says, voice gentle. “Gotta be honest.”

It feels like a childish thing to do, like their little pact couldn’t possible apply to conversations about sex, but it’s always been the easiest way to overcome their differences, to put them on the same wavelength. Yoongi knows this kind of honesty is harder for Taehyung than it is for him. Taehyung likes to speak from his heart when the mood takes him but he doesn’t like to flay himself open the way Yoongi sometimes does.

Taehyung lets out a long breath and turns to look at the ceiling again. He doesn’t let go of Yoongi’s hand though. “Gotta be honest,” he echoes. He takes a deep breath. “I hate that you do things just because I want you to.”

Yoongi blinks. “What?”

Taehyung grimaces, like he’s trying to go for a smile but his face isn’t quite cooperating. “I don’t always hate it, obviously. I like that you—” He breaks off, shakes his head. “I just hate it right now.”

It’s easy to see what it costs him to even say it, how much he’s pushing himself through this just because Yoongi asked him to. Which makes it all the more ridiculous that Taehyung somehow got it into his head that their relationship is in any way one-sided.

“I don’t do that,” Yoongi says. “I didn’t do that this time,” he corrects, because Taehyung does have a point. “I told you, it’s not like I was doing you a favor here.”

There’s an edge to Taehyung’s gaze when he turns to look at Yoongi. “Really?” he says, but it doesn’t sound like a question. “You just spent an hour making me tell you every fantasy I’ve ever had about you and then decided to make them a reality, except even better somehow, now that you know exactly what I want from you. You didn’t even get off, didn’t even let me touch you, and you’re honestly telling me this wasn’t you doing me a favor?”

Taehyung doesn’t sound angry, exactly, but like he’s right on the cusp of it. Hurt and defensive but determined to press forward anyway. He still hasn’t let go of Yoongi’s hand. Yoongi loves him so much.

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m telling you,” Yoongi says. It’s so easy to look at Taehyung again, now that he knows the issue, knows that it’s not an issue at all. “Do you seriously think this wasn’t good for me? That I don’t want you too? That I’m just indulging you?”

“You indulge me a lot,” Taehyung says, which is fair.

“Not with something like this. Not if I know doing it half-heartedly is only going to hurt you in the long-run.” Yoongi reaches out his face cupping Taehyung’s cheek. “Taehyung-ah, you know I wouldn’t do that. I didn’t plan this, obviously, but I don’t regret that it happened. Not unless you do.”

The movement of Taehyung’s head as he shakes it is soft enough not to dislodge Yoongi’s hand, like he can’t bear to not be touching either. “I don’t,” he says. “I just don’t understand. You didn’t want me to touch you.”

“I mean, in the moment it was hot to just watch you,” Yoongi admits. “It’s kind of amazing how much you react to me. To just my voice, even.” Yoongi can feel Taehyung’s cheek warm underneath his palm, but Taehyung doesn’t try to look away or hide. “Honestly, that was more than enough for me.”

“But what about afterwards?” Taehyung asks. “After I— you know. I wanted to.” That’s harder to answer because it’s not like he doesn’t want Taehyung to touch him, to make him come. Eventually.

“I know,” Yoongi says. “But I wanted it to just be about you.” He looks down. “I don’t like when sex feels like a series of steps you have to follow. I really wasn’t planning to get off tonight, making you come didn’t really change that for me.” It’s something he struggles to explain, how sex loses most of it’s fun if it feels like simply fulfilling an expectation. It’s one of the reasons he usually hooks up with people he already knows and not with strangers.

Taehyung is quiet for a moment. “If you don’t like having sex—” he starts carefully, but Yoongi waves him off.

“I like it. That’s not the issue. I just don’t always feel like getting off.” He doesn’t really get tired after an orgasm, the way most of his past partners did, but usually ends up feeling more awake, which isn’t ideal for a late night after a long day. He’s gotten used to falling asleep with sleepy arousal still coursing through his body.

He expects Taehyung to argue, or at least ask questions, but Taehyung just nods. “Okay,” he says, like it’s that simply, like this hasn’t been an issue in almost all of Yoongi’s past relationships, like the most common thing his past partners had accused him of — except for not having enough time for them, of course, Yoongi is still an idol — was that he didn’t actually want them.

“Okay,” Yoongi repeats, a little dazed, and Taehyung squeezes his hand.

“Honestly, I’m just relieved this wasn’t some sort of pity thing,” he says, casual, like it’s not a completely ridiculous notion. Yoongi bites his tongue though, doesn’t say that out loud. It’s not like he doesn’t know what it looks like from Taehyung’s point of view, doesn’t know how unrequited his interest must have felt until this evening.

He squeezes Taehyung’s hand back, prolonged pressure before he lets go. “Are you going to stay the night now?” he asks, making sure not to put any pressure behind the question. He wouldn’t like it if Taehyung left, would obviously prefer for him to stay, but the prospect doesn’t seem so bleak now that they’re on the same page again. If Taehyung wants some space, Yoongi’s content to give it to him, knowing he’ll come back eventually.

The expression on Taehyung’s face is soft enough to make him glow. “If you’ll let me,” he says, but there’s no shyness in his voice, no doubt. “Just, uh, let me put on some new pants first.”

Yoongi can’t help it, he has to laugh. Something inside his chest just feels too light to keep inside. “Sure,” he says, still laughing. “You can borrow some of mine, if you want?” They don’t really wear the same size, but given how Yoongi tends to like his clothes at least a bit oversized that’s never been much of a problem.

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the suggestion. “I do,” he says, already rolling off the bed to go through Yoongi’s luggage, trying to find something he’ll like best. Watching him carefully examine each piece of clothing Yoongi packed for this trip, it’s once again obvious how different they are.

Yoongi tends to go for comfort over style, in general, but especially when he wants to lie down. Taehyung picks out his clothes according to a criteria Yoongi isn’t sure anyone else understands. He doesn’t go for comfort like Yoongi, but he also doesn’t go for what would be most classically attractive like Jimin would, or what feels fun and adventurous like Hoseok does. Whatever the system behind it might be, a relatively new pair of Yoongi’s boxers seem to speak to him, because he carefully folds them over his arm and disappears into the bathroom with them.

Yoongi can hear the tap turn on, and sets himself to fixing the sheets that had gotten dislodged, making sure to spread the blanket evenly across both sides of the mattress before he slips underneath it.

Taehyung makes a pleased noise when he comes back, and this time when he slides into the bed beside Yoongi he doesn’t keep his distance, but moves close right away, wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s waist without asking permission.

Lying in the warm bed with Taehyung snuggled up to him, Yoongi can’t remember the last time he’d felt this content, this truly happy without even a sliver of anxiety to diminish it. He knows it won’t last, that the worries will likely be back tomorrow, but for now he’s content to just rest together, to take a little reprieve from their busy lives and just enjoy this evening.

They’ll have to talk about it tomorrow, will have to figure out where to go from here, what Taehyung actually wants and whether Yoongi can give it to him, but Yoongi isn’t too worried about it. They’ll figure it out, they always have, and if this evening has proven anything to him it’s that there’s a lot of unrealized potential between him and Taehyung.

With that thought Yoongi puts his own hand on top of where Taehyung’s is resting on his own, and allows himself to drift off to sleep.