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It starts slow, you on his lap, hands in his hair, pulling his mouth up to meet yours. His lips are a bit chapped, but the way he moves his head and uses his hands to cup the spot just under your jaw and up behind your ear to bring you closer than you already are make up for it.
Your mouths fall open before you can fully grasp what's happening. One of Yoongi's hands is on your ass, while his tongue tangles with yours in the passionate way he has of kissing you. Your breathing is heavy and it hasn't even been longer than a couple of minutes. Yoongi takes your breath away, figuratively and literally. You sigh and pull away in a silent moan, relishing in the pleasure burning in your lower stomach and breasts. Yoongi nips at your bottom lip before rolling the two of you over so that you're sitting against the headboard of his bed and he's on top of you, in this way that he has to bend down so his lips can meet yours. It's okay because he loves it, loves seeing your eyes half closed in pleasure he's giving you, loves being the dominant one of the relationship.
He grasps your chin with his fingers, cold against your burning skin, and kisses you once on the mouth, hot and sloppy, an indicator that the mood is picking up. You whimper when he pulls away, and he smiles, in that crooked, smug way of his, before pushing your shoulders so that you're lying down, hair splayed out on his pillow.
Then before you can catch your breath, he's lowering his body down on top of you, lining you up, thighs to thighs, chest to chest, and laying an open mouthed kiss right on the base of your neck. You moan, because his tongue on your neck is your weakness. His is the sound of you, moaning, whining, calling out his name. He growls and drags his teeth on the spot he kissed, sucking at the already red skin. He moves up your neck, creating bruised red and purple marks that will let people know you're his. He nibbles at your jawline, under it, kisses up to your ear.
"I think it's time for this shirt to come off, don't you, princess?" he says, in that slurred way he has of speaking, which is only intensified when he's turned on.
You nod breathlessly, and reach your hands down to the hem of your shirt. He sits back on his heels, tongue peeking out to lick at his lips. You watch the way his eyes grow darker as your bare skin is revealed. His jaw visibly slackens as he realizes you weren't wearing a bra underneath, and even though he's not one to make much noise, you swear that he moans before stripping off his own shirt and undoing his belt.
The second his shirt hits the ground, you're pulling him down to meet you in a wild kiss, relishing in the way his bare chest feels pressed against yours, so much so that you're dragging your nails up his back in the pleasure. You would feel guilty for leaving marks, but Yoongi likes it, likes knowing that he can please you enough to the point where his name isn't enough for you.
Which you've also been moaning out for a while now, under your breath as he marked your neck, into his mouth as he kisses you senseless. Soon, into his shoulder, while he ruts into you.
"Yoongi-ah!" you call out, as he unexpectedly grinds into you. He's hard, which isn't that surprising. He laughs, sort of, into your mouth, and you forget about everything around you and just focus on that sound.
Focus on the way he brings his hands up your sides, fingers gentle — mouth anything but— tracing and curving up around your breasts, underneath to feel their weight, over top so he can pinch at the nipples, leaving you gasping for breath and arching your back into his touch.
Focus on the way you aren't even kissing anymore. It's close, almost there, but a bit too sloppy and a bit too one sided to be called that. Yoongi's doing most of the work, tracing your lips with his tongue, delving in to your mouth, which tastes like mint and chocolate and everything good in the world, sucking on your tongue, on your bottom lip, pulling with his teeth. It's hot.
You aren't even aware of the sounds coming out of your mouth anymore. They're a mix between moans and whimpers and sighs, which have Yoongi keening. He's living for this, rolling his hips into yours to put the edge off for just a couple moments, because he never wants this to stop.
But it's too much for him, and you know it, so you push him off of you. He looks confused, but too dazed and caught in his arousal to do anything about it. You grab him by the shoulders and turn him so you're on top, and sliding down till you come face to face with what you've been waiting for all night.
The sound that he makes when he realizes what your planning on doing is one of pure euphoria. You haven't even touched him yet. He's already having trouble keeping his hips still. You smirk, run your tongue over your teeth (which makes Yoongi shut his eyes in pure lust), and start to push down his jeans. It becomes even more evident just how hard he is, ready for you, and your mouth, when they're on the floor.
You palm him through his boxers, and his hips desperately buck up into your hand.
"Please, Y/N-ah, please, just something... anything," Yoongi whines, and you give him what he wants.
His boxers are gone, and his cock is there, and you look him dead in the eyes and take him into your mouth.
Yoongi groans, loudly, and bucks into you. His hands have knitted into your hair. Yours are on his thighs, as you work your mouth around his length, focusing on the underside, the head, taking as much of him in as you can. He can barely handle it, back arched, desperate sounds flooding from his mouth. He's about to come, which is why he pushes you off of him before it's too late.
"Not yet. I want to taste you first."
Submissive Yoongi is gone. It's hard to breathe at the way he looks at you, way he hooks his fingers on your pants and panties and pulls them both off, hard to breathe at the immense amounts of pleasure you're feeling. One touch from Yoongi and you'll come undone, you're sure.
"Wet for me, aren't you baby?"
You moan, and nod, at how sexual his words sound. You're propped up on your elbows, head fallen back as you try and catch your breath. Yoongi hoists your legs over his shoulders and leans down to you. His nose grazes your clit, and your mouth falls open with pleasure. It's hard to stay quiet when he's so good at this. This being oral. This being sex. This being love. Are sex and love the same thing or different? You can't think about that right now, not with Yoongi's tongue against you, flat and then not, putting pressure on all the places that need but not enough at the same time.
You're a mess, hands clutching at the bedsheets, clutching at his hair, clutching at anything, something, as you're closer, closer, closer.
"Yoongi, Yoongi, I'm gonna come, please stop, stop, just wait, please, I want you inside me," you moan/breath/say because he's not stopping and you're on the brink of an orgasm and the feeling in your stomach is fucking unbearable, but in a good way.
And he's adding fingers, one, two, curling them inside you the way you need it. He's memorized how you like it, and he's following through, putting his free hand palm down on your stomach to keep you from trying to get away from the ecstasy he's giving you.
You're moaning, too loud, so you stick two of your fingers into your mouth to suck on and keep you quiet. Yoongi, when he realizes you've stopped making noises, looks up to see you and almost comes at the sight. You look fucked out already, with your hooded eyes and messy hair, and the hickeys littered all over your body. You've got a sheen of sweat, and it's somehow making you sexier, if that's even possible.
"That's enough of this," Yoongi growls and even though you wanted this, you whine at the emptiness as he pulls out his fingers.
Which he then replaces your fingers with his, and the taste of yourself on your tongue is strange but hot. Especially to Yoongi, who's rolling on a condom and already out of breath from how turned in he is.
"Please," you mewl, and it's enough to have Yoongi lowering himself on top of you, resting his forehead against yours, pulling your legs up to wrap around his waist, guiding himself into you.
"Fuck," he says, breaths becoming heavier as both he and you adjust. You dig your nails into his bicep as your head lulls backward in pure pleasure.
"Yoongi, oh Yoongi, baby," and that's all you can say for a minute (or two or three) as he slowly thrusts in and out of you. His head has moved to your neck, and his breath is hot against your skin.
"Move, move, faster, please," you manage to choke out and Yoongi listens finally and starts moving how you want him to.
He's good at this, good at pushing your thighs back till they hit your chest, pulling your arms above your head in a strong hold, fucking you senseless as you moan out words that don't make sense. He's good at mouthing at your neck, collarbone, jaw line, pinching at your nipples at the same time he thrusts into you. He's good at holding you so you don't have to worry about rocking around to much, so you can just focus on his cock hitting that one spot inside you that makes your mouth fall open and your nails dig marks into Yoongi's skin.
"So good, so good, you're so good to me," he mutters, never slowing down his pace. He's chasing both of your orgasms without slowing down. You never want to come but you do so badly, to prolong this feeling of immense euphoria, but to end it in more. What you're feeling now is nothing compared to the moment when you hit your climax and it's one of the reasons you love sex with Yoongi.
"Ah, Yoongi, 'm close, really close, just a little more."
He's angled himself so the headboard of your bed is smashing into the wall, but it's letting him reach deeper in you than before and the shocks of pleasure you're getting are worth it. Yoongi's begun panting and his thrusts are getting more erratic, your name on his lips, under his breath.
Your stomach is starting to burn with the amount of pleasure you're feeling, Yoongi's giving you. It's when he brings his fingers down to rub your clit when you know you're gone.
Your orgasm hits you hard; white spots flooding your vision as you lurch up and call out Yoongi's name, your moaning louder than ever. It's powerful and never ending and your whole body is shaking and tingling from over stimulation because Yoongi's still going, still pushing you through your climax and into his.
You're breathing hard and moaning still, in that silent way where it's too much for you to even make a sound. You're exhausted but you want more.
Yoongi gives it to you when he comes, letting out a strangled sort of moan as he lets go. He doesn't stop fucking you, only slows down to a grind, which is in every way worse and better for you.
You feel like you're about to pass out, but your hips are still unconsciously bucking up into Yoongi's.
Finally, he pulls out, rolls off of you and let's you soak in everything that just happened while he ties off the condom and staggers into the bathroom to get a towel, which he wets with warm water and uses to wipe the sweat off the both of you.
"You good?" he says, but it comes out like a whisper because both of you are too tired to speak normally.
You nod and pull him into you, your lips meeting, bumping into each other in something similar to, but not exactly, a kiss.
"Love you, Yoongi," you say as your eyes flutter shut.
"Love you too, Y/N."
And you fall asleep cuddled into his embrace, breathing in the scent of sex and Yoongi.