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Taehyung heard the door slammed shut. The heavy breathing of Yoongi in front of him. Felt the wood when he was pressed against it. It was rough even through his shirt, but it didn't bother him. Not a bit. He was too distracted. Too distracted by everything that was happening around him and to him at the same time. Too many impression for a too small body, too small awareness. He tried to focus on anything. Anything, that seemed worth focussing on. Hot breath against the skin of his neck. He found it; the thing he wanted to focus on. Hands roaming over his body. So small and obedient under the hands of the elder. Long and bony, pale and too much room for too many too naughty thoughts. But Taehyung couldn't help it. Couldn't help it that the sight alone of those hands was enough to destroy everything he had worked on. Not only Taehyung but also Jeongguk.
Jeongguk; what would he think about Taehyung being pressed against a foreign door. A door that wasn't their apartment's one. Pressed by someone who wasn't Jeongguk. And Taehyung would have gulped if he wasn't so distracted by all these impressions. He has wanted to. He hasn't shook his head and he hasn't pushed Yoongi away. It has been his fault and his wish since the first time he looked in those brown, narrow eyes that almost looked like a triangle. Since he heard the voice, just as deep as his own. Since he fell for this man who wasn't Jeongguk. He has wanted him and he still wanted. Craving for the touch of those hands. Craving for the touch of Yoongi. Wanted to feel him all over his skin. Hot breath, whispered curses, sticky skin and heated air. He hadn't stopped thinking about it since he had laid his eyes on Yoongi and he still didn't.
Now they were there. Taehyung felt hot. So unbelievably hot and he wanted to throw his shirt off, to get out of this clothes that felt too tight to take it anymore. He whined. A small, low sound. But it echoed in the silence of heavy breathing and guilt. Yoongi pressed his lips against Taehyung's and he tasted like passion. Like melodies that gave you goosebumps and midday naps. And Taehyung couldn't help it but compare it to Jeongguk's taste. To Jeongguk's taste that tasted just like Busan and the sea and childishness and overripe maturity. He felt the guilt deep in his belly but maybe he was just horny and it was his fault after all. They didn't make it to the bed and Taehyung didn't mind. He knew the couch. Had spent so many nights and too many touches on this couch. Knew how it creaked and knew how uncomfortable it was to sleep on. He was pushed on the cushion and he missed the taste of Yoongi. A never ending, never satisfiable ache for something that he couldn't have and never would. And when Yoongi kneed over his crotch he reminded himself that it was a one-time thing. A one-time thing that had happened far too often to be just a one-time thing. Even though he used to tell himself that it was a one-time thing so it would hurt less. So the guilt wouldn't start eating him up. Starting in his chest, eating all the way down his feet until he wasn't able to walk anymore. But Taehyung has always been good at pretending and telling himself the lies others didn't believe. Just like the thing with the one-time thing.
They weren't dumb. They; his friends. Yoongi's. They saw the gazes. Felt the tense air and heard more than they were supposed to do. And Taehyung remembered how Jimin had told him to be honest with him and Jeongguk. To be honest for both their sakes. But Taehyung has always been good at pretending and had said:”I don't know what you're talking about.” And then he had left. Because there was too much truth within the lies and the pretending and the truth hurt. He hadn't felt guilty later that day at all when Jeongguk had fucked him into the sheets of their shared bed; in their shared apartment. In their lives they had started to share. But did it matter now? With another man sucking on his chest, placing kisses and soft bites all over his neck? Did it matter when Yoongi started sucking on Taehyung's nipples and all he could do was whimpering the name of a man that wasn't Jeongguk as it was the only word he knew. Maybe it was. Taehyung felt dizzy. Hot. Not a bit guilty.
Taehyung has always been sensitive and it was one of the days he knew he didn't have to think about being too loud. About holding back every noise that was about to leave his throat. Needy and Taehyung should have been ashamed of the words he was hissing when Yoongi unbuttoned his jeans. Sliding them down. Reaching for the olive, now bare skin. Caressing every inch until he was trembling. With cold. With excitement. Because it was always exciting. So exciting to feel guilty. So exciting to know that Yoongi wasn't Jeongguk and he never would be. And Taehyung has never understood the thrill of being disloyal. Never thought of being disloyal. Until he saw those bony hands and all he could think of was how good he would take them. How they would make him whimper and moan out in pleasure. He has been so right.
Yoongi's hands slid their way to the hem of Taehyung's briefs. He took a deep breath.
They usually didn't talk much. Were more doing than talking of what they could do. They cursed and whispered. But they have known each other for such a long time in a completely different way so they didn't need any words.
Taehyung rolled on his stomach, hands next to his head, legs bent and spread. He trembled with excitement. Yoongi seemed to understand. He heard him shifting on the cushion. Felt his hot breath against the back of his neck. Goosebumps were covering his whole body, trembling impatiently underneath Yoongi's heavy presence. Taehyung could almost taste him. The elder placed kisses so soft that they almost seemed a bit off compared to everything they did before. Compared to the roughness in their acting. Compared to everything they felt for each other which was nothing more than bare desire they couldn't help but offset.
Yoongi was a great kisser. Much tongue, few saliva. Precise as he tried to aim for a head shot. Always striking. So he kissed his way down Taehyung's spine and all he did was hissing, whimpering like he always did. Sucking at his bottom lip when he felt those large hands on his ass cheeks. Spreading him open, so wide, it would have been embarrassing if Taehyung didn't enjoy it that much. His hands clenched into fist, cushion stopping his fingernails from digging into the tender skin of his palms.
Yoongi didn't say anything. Breath against puckered skin and sweet kisses onto every inch he could reach. And Taehyung squirmed and thought he wouldn't mind spending the whole day just laying on his stomach, Yoongi between his legs, sucking and kissing down his spine and his ass until over-sensitivity would turn the pleasure into a bitter-sweet ache. He wouldn't mind at all.
Jeongguk didn't enjoy eating Taehyung out but Yoongi did. Sometimes he would praise the younger. Would say he tasted like everything he ever craved for even though it was embarrassing to say such things outside the protective and heated mood while they were fucking. When nothing could reach them but the whimpers and moans they were making. It was protective because they knew there was nothing more. Taehyung would clean himself and leave Yoongi's apartment, because there was nothing more he could ask for.
Yoongi licked the puckered skin, short stripes and soft rolls of his tongue. And Taehyung was distracted. Could have tried to count sheep or told some unimportant things about his major and he would have failed so ridiculously.
“Yoongi”, Taehyung hissed, digged his fingers into the fabric of the couch.
And when they were finished Taehyung would ask himself if he should feel this way. If there shouldn't be any guilt, a little voice that told him that it was wrong. That he should be honest with Jeongguk. Because he deserved it. He deserved it more than anyone else. And Taehyung loved him. God, he really did. But maybe Yoongi was too passionate to keep this feelings up. Too passionate about music and sex. And maybe Taehyung has fallen for him more than he intended to do. Maybe he already had hurt Jeongguk more than he ever had intended to. He didn't deserve being hurt by someone as Taehyung.
But that thought didn't occur to Taehyung when Yoongi had fingered him a few months ago on this public toilet in this shitty club he went to with his friends. It didn't occur to him when they jerked each other off on Yoongi's couch – something what had started as a movie night and had ended in heated movements and sticky stomachs. Maybe it had been but Taehyung was so good at pretending that even if it had been he wouldn't have noticed; or at least he would say he hadn't.
When Yoongi pounded him into the mattress this night it was the same. He moaned a name that wasn't Jeongguk's and Yoongi would praise a man that wasn't his and never would be. And when Taehyung would come back to Jeongguk's and his flat he wouldn't feel any guilt. Because he couldn't help the naughty thoughts and the ache for someone else. At least he tried to convince himself. It made a lot of things easier.
But things weren't easy. Life wasn't. As well as relationships and Taehyung's never been good at them; he didn't knew how to keep them going. But there were two curtain things he knew for sure.
First – He loved Jeon Jeongguk. The man he got back to.
Second – He fell for Min Yoongi and his fucking passion. The man he didn't stay with.