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Jung Hoseok likes his coffee sweet and creamy. That’s why, when he stops by his son’s teacher’s classroom for an early-before-class chat, he makes a face down at his cup when the coffee inside is black as night.
“There’s creamer in the drawer,” Mr. Min says, looking sheepish. He has maybe three of the original flavor, two hazelnut and a single packet of splenda.”Sorry. Most parents choose to meet after class.”
If it’s supposed to be a jab at his schedule, Hoseok just shrugs. “It’s alright. Probably going to use your whole supply, though.” He says it as he grabs a handful of creamer and the sad, lonely splenda packet. “I have dance class until late so this is really the only time that works for me.”
“Ah. You dance?” Mr. Min asks and then his face grows fire red. Too personal. Hoseok finds it endearing.
“I teach it, mostly. That place by the post office?” Mr. Min shakes his head but it doesn’t matter to Hoseok whether he knows it or not. He’s here to talk about his son, about Jungkook, and no matter how unfairly handsome his teacher might be, it’s not the right time for Hoseok to be thinking such thoughts. “So, Jungkook?”
It’s almost funny the way Mr. Min snaps back into his professional teacher persona, pulling out a sheet and going over Jungkook’s grades. Mr. Min points with long, knobby fingers here and there , showing Hoseok particularly troubled areas in his son’s studies. They're not too bad but definitely not what they were last semester. With some help, Mr. Min tells him, Jungkook could get his grades up to where they were before.
“And what kind of help would that be, Mr. Min?”
The teacher swallows. Hoseok watches the way it bobs up and down, fascinated. “A tutor. I know Jungkook can be stubborn at times so I thought maybe it would be best if you talked to him about it.”
“He told me he was already working on his grades,” Hoseok says.
“I can tell he’s trying his best but the new school year has been kicking his ass. Pardon the word.”
“It’s alright, we’re all adults here,” Hoseok says, admiring the way Mr. Min’s cheeks turn red again. “I’ll talk to him if that’s your professional recommendation.”
“It is.”
“Alright,” Hoseok nods and stands, grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair. “Will that be all then, Mr. Min?”
“You- you can call me Yoongi,” he says, “and yes, that will be all.”
“Alright, Yoongi,” Hoseok says and he’s not entirely sure what comes over him when he throws his son’s teacher a flirtatious wink over his shoulder as he heads to the door.
Hoseok thinks he does a pretty good job of not thinking about him the rest of that week. Thinking about him in ways he definitely shouldn’t be thinking about his son’s teacher. He talks to Jungkook about the possibility of a tutor and it only takes him three days to convince him that it might actually be a good idea. He knows his son is a capable boy but sometimes there’s nothing wrong with getting some help.
That being said, he now gets to see Mr. Min- Yoongi- every other week to discuss Jungkook’s progress with his grades. It’s slow going but it’s going and by the third visit, Yoongi has a little collection of creamer going, raw cane sugar packets along with the replenished splenda. Fancy.
He’s sitting across from Yoongi the morning his dancing comes up again. It’s a subject they’ve been skirting around all week. Hoseok’s job. Dancing. He can tell Yoongi is interested in it, the shine in his eyes, the way he leans forward as if to pluck each individual word out of the air.
“You know,” Yoongi says and if his voice is a note lower than it was before, Hoseok doesn’t comment on it. “If there are any slots open, I’m looking for something fun to do on the weekends.”
Hoseok has to stifle his laugh with his hand but he guffaws anyway, loud in the small classroom.
“What?” Yoongi asks owlishly, his face redder than Hoseok has ever seen it.
“Well, considering I teach children, Mr. Min, I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
If it’s possible, Yoongi’s face looks like it’s been set on fire. He sinks into the chair like he’s hoping it will swallow him up and let him disappear but the world is unfortunately not that merciful. Hoseok, for his part, can’t stop laughing, imagining Yoongi prancing around with his students, doing toddler-friendly dance moves. Cute.
“Thank you for coming by today, Hoseok,” Yoongi squeaks, about five seconds away from just crawling under his desk.
Hoseok says, just by the door, “I’m sure you can think of something else to do on the weekends, Yoongi.”
Like me , he thinks, stepping out onto the hall, his face just as red. He’s almost surprised when he sees Jungkook sitting just outside, staring up at him strangely. For a moment, he had forgotten he was there waiting for him.
“Mr. Min must be funnier than I remember,” Jungkook says, frowning. “You two were laughing pretty hard, huh?”
“Yeah, we were laughing at your grades. Shouldn’t you be in class?”
Jungkook looks at his wrist, sans watch. “Class doesn’t start for another hour and a half. And you promised me breakfast.”
“Right,” Hoseok says and clears his throat. He grabs Jungkook by his backpack, kind of like grabbing a puppy by the scruff. “Let’s go then.”
He waits until nighttime. Until he’s fresh out of the shower and Jungkook is away sleeping over at a friend’s house. He’s had a glass of wine by then and is working his way through another, his most comfortable and well-worn robe wrapped around him. His phone open in front of him, Yoongi’s contact pulled up and giving him the option to call, Facetime, or send a text.
Clicking on the text option pulls up their last conversation, a short back and forth as they tried to arrange their next meeting. Hoseok can still remember the day Yoongi had passed him his card, his personal number handwritten on the back ‘for emergencies’. Those were his exact words but there was a glint in his eye as he said it, maybe hoping there would be more emergencies than not.
Hoseok pulls up the video. It’s a solo of him, standing in front of the wall of mirrors at his studio. He’d filmed it the night after Yoongi’s failed attempt at flirting. In fact, he’d been thinking about Yoongi as he filmed it, body rolling along with the beat. It’s a song he’d never play during his classes, the voice sultry and deep. But the song isn’t the point, it’s the way he moves , like the lyrics and the beat and the chords were chosen just for him to make his body move like air, flow like water.
He sends it to Yoongi without much hesitation, watching with his heart about to beat out of his ass until the little delivered sign appears under it. Releasing all the air he didn’t know he’d been holding, he types a quick, what do you think? It’s innocent enough given Yoongi’s previous interest in his dancing and he could easily brush it off as just trying to be friendly with his son’s teacher.
The little bubble indicating Yoongi is typing pops up, disappears. It goes like that for a while, appearing and disappearing. Hoseok can’t stop himself from giggling, imagining Yoongi on the other side of the phone, flushed and scrambling for a response.
Oh, is what he gets back. Two letters, anticlimactic. It makes him giggle harder.
Good job, Yoongi sends a moment later. I mean. Looks good. Hoseok is still laughing by the time he gets a third message: Still looking for something to do on the weekends.
Hoseok considers it a second, sipping his wine before he texts back: I would only be able to do private lessons, Mr. Min.
The bubble with the three little dots does it’s little routine again, appearing, disappearing. Hoseok draws it out for a moment before he sends out a lifeline: is that something you’d be interested in?
The response is easy: absolutely.
And, because Hoseok is a tease who has had far too much wine that night and is seconds away from making a very questionable decision, he responds: we can discuss it during our next meeting ;)
He throws his phone across the room, bursting into giddy, embarrassed laughter and trying to stifle it into his pillow. Had he really just said that? And with a winky face ?! You’re not a young man anymore, Hoseok reminds himself, his face so hot it might have actually caught on fire this time. He’s nearly forty. With a child . There really is no reason he should be flirting with said child’s teacher like that.
Yet as he drives over to the school the morning of their latest meeting, already five minutes behind schedule, he can’t stop the anticipation from building inside him, swelling until he feels like it’s all going to burst out of him. He tries to maintain his composure as he walks through the eerily silent hallways, Yoongi’s classroom the only one with the lights on so early in the morning. He knocks, though the door is ajar, almost anticipating his arrival.
“Come in.”
Yoongi is sitting at his desk, the sleeves of his usually neat button up rolled up to his elbows. On his face sits a pair of dark rimmed glasses Hoseok has never seen before, low on his nose as he looks up from the papers he’d been reading. Hoseok thinks his heart must stop beating altogether just at the sight of this man- this man! - and the audacity of him to look like this before seven in the morning. The absolute audacity , smiling like that and handing Hoseok his cup of coffee exactly how he likes it.
“Good morning.”
Oh. Hoseok is a weak, weak man.
He sits across from Yoongi and sips his coffee, making an appreciative noise before he can stop himself. It’s better than he’d usually make it. Does Yoongi have any idea what he’s doing to him right now? Does he even care? It would be infuriating if Hoseok weren’t so turned on, the only thought on his mind jumping over that desk and ripping that shirt in half.
Maybe it would be easier to talk about Jungkook but Hoseok finds that he can barely concentrate. He can feel the blood pumping in his veins, his heart beating too fast in his ears. It happens by accident when he shifts his legs under the desk, the tip of his shoe just slightly brushing against Yoongi’s leg. It startles him back to the present, his eyes snapping up from where they’d been focusing on the vee of Yoongi’s throat.
“Are you alright?” Yoongi asks. His grin is crooked. Cute. he hasn't moved his leg, though. Maybe it’s intentional, maybe he’s trying to be polite and avoid embarrassing Hoseok.
“Fine,” Hoseok says. Testing the waters, he shifts his foot a bit more, higher up Yoongi’s leg. Right at that crease where knee becomes supple thigh. Yoongi’s breath stutters, his sentence cutting off mid-word and he can’t seem to get his thoughts back in order. “Are you alright?”
Yoongi buries his face in his hands, his legs opening wider. A clear invitation.
“Oh?” Hoseok asks, very deliberately stroking his foot along Yoongi’s thigh, stopping just short of his crotch before trailing back down to his knee. “Do you feel okay, Mr. Min? You look flushed.”
Finally, he presses his heel between the junction of Yoongi’s thighs, making him groan and lean back on the chair with a huff, his breathing coming in short pants. “You’re terrible.”
“Really?” Hoseok presses harder before dropping his foot. He can feel his heart beating jackhammer quick in his head, adrenaline pumping through him. Had he really just done that? Him? The very same Jung Hoseok who hasn’t even been on a date since his son was born? “What are you thinking about?”
“It’s very inappropriate,” Yoongi says into his hand, still refusing to look up.
Hoseok laughs softly, standing and walking around the desk to lean against it, right between Yoongi’s thighs. “I should hope so,” he says and Yoongi finally looks at him. Licks his lips. “Tell me.”
Yoongi’s voice is rough when he says, “thinkin’ about kissing you, mostly.”
Leaning forward, his hands on the back of Yoongi’s chair for balance, Hoseok lets their lips brush for just a moment. “I think it’s a lot more than that, Mr. Min.”
Sparks ignite all up and down Hoseok's body when Yoongi’s hands come around his waist, gripping him hard and dragging him down onto his lap. It’s a tight fit on the desk chair but a good fit nonetheless, Yoongi so very obviously hard under him. Hoseok grinds down as he kisses Yoongi properly this time. Eager, his mouth opening for more and practically begging for his tongue.
He thinks he makes a noise, needy and high pitched in the back of his throat as his fingers sink into Yoongi’s hair, messing up the careful styling he always puts into it. Yoongi tries to shush him but just ends up laughing into the kiss, dragging Hoseok closer than he would have thought possible.
“When I saw that video of you dancing- fuck,” Yoongi growls, nipping at Hoseok’s bottom lip. Hoseok shivers, imagining how those hands must feel under his clothes, rough on his bare skin.
“I knew you’d like it,” and he licks against the roof of Yoongi’s mouth, getting an obscene sound in return for his efforts. He could come like this, he thinks, cock trapped in his pants, throbbing and aching against the rough texture. It would be so easy to grind down, again, again, let that warmth flood through him-
Hoseok’s words are cut short when he’s unceremoniously shoved under the desk, about to protest when he hears the door opening and a bright voice greeting Yoongi with a cheerful good morning. Yoongi’s voice has a distinct edge to it as he talks with the intruder; Hoseok has to wonder how the other person doesn’t call him out on it. That or the mess of hair atop his head.
He’s under the filthy desk for nearly ten minutes before the other teacher leaves. Yoongi lets out a long breath and sinks back against the chair.
“Smooth,” Hoseok says. “Do you do that often?”
“Pretty good for a first time, huh?”
Hoseok wants to say more, wants to stop at the door and maybe press a goodbye kiss to Yoongi’s lips but his heart is still slamming between his ribs so hard he might be sick, the edge of temptation cutting into him ever so slowly. They might get caught. Hell, Jungkook could walk in at that very moment.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you next time,” Hoseok says, way more meaning behind those words than he’d been intending.
“Next time,” Yoongi says and his voice carries the same weight.
Jungkook has always considered himself to have a sharp eye. He notices when something is off, usually right away. When someone isn’t putting as much effort as usual into their appearance or they’re not talking as much. He notices when someone falls behind, makes an effort to include them and is generally valued as a good friend from this quality. It’s why, as soon as he steps into class that morning, he can’t take his eyes off Mr. Min.
His teacher is usually a well kept man. He always keeps his hair gelled back, his shirts always pressed and free of a single wrinkle. He buttons them up to the last button and never, ever , has Jungkook seen him with his sleeves rolled up.
“Can I help you?” Mr. Min asks when he notices Jungkook staring for a bit too long, other students milling around him to get to their seats.
“Why does your shirt look like that?” Jungkook asks, squinting at his teacher suspiciously.
“Like what?” Mr. Min looks down at himself, maybe looking for a stain or some bit of breakfast that had gotten stuck and gone unnoticed.
“Like you’ve been busy,” Jungkook says, stepping closer to the desk. “It’s untucked. And your sleeves are rolled up. And since when do you come in with your hair all messed up like that?”
Mr. Min reaches up to pass a hand through his hair. Not that it had been too messy just… messier than usual. Even Jungkook knew some teachers came in looking worse than that. But not Mr. Min. Never Mr. Min.
“It’s not messed up ,” Mr. Min mumbles.
“You know my dad was here this morning.”
Mr. Min blushes. “He was. We talked about your atrocious grades. Now go take your seat, Jungkook.”
Jungkook goes with a confused little frown on his face.
Classes don’t usually run so late but that day there were a few parents who needed overtime hours at work and had asked Hoseok so politely that he just couldn’t find it in himself to say no. By the time the last kid leaves it’s almost 8 PM. He has a few texts from Jungkook about being bored that he promptly ignores for the single text from Yoongi, sent almost four hours ago talking about how horrible work is.
Hoseok texts him back an explanation for his long absence, not sure why but fearing that Yoongi is going to think he’s ignoring him. He gets a response back almost immediately.
It’s alright. Still here grading tests.
Hoseok pauses for a moment and considers. He’s tired after so many hours of trying to teach dance to overly energetic kids (he still isn’t sure how he ever managed with Jungkook that young), he’s sweaty and gross and all he’s been thinking about all day is going home and getting in the bath. Yet when he sees Yoongi’s text the only thing he can think of responding is: need some company?
It’s not so much that he speeds back to the school because that would be illegal and very, very desperate of him, but he might be driving with a lead foot, slightly faster than he should but not fast enough that anyone would bother pulling him over. He texts Jungkook when he parks, telling him he’ll be late and to not wait up. His heart is beating faster than it had the day Yoongi had kissed him.
What exactly is he thinking? Can’t be anything good. Though as he slips through the unlocked side door Yoongi had told him about, Hoseok can’t find it in himself to feel guilty or wrong about what he’s doing. He’s filled with a growing sense of excitement, giddy with anticipation as he makes his way to the only lit classroom in the entire school.
The door is cracked just slightly so he doesn’t bother knocking. Yoongi looks up from the tests he’d been grading, sitting at his desk with his glasses skewed on his face. He’d replaced his button down with a comfortable looking sweater and the only thing Hoseok can think about as he approaches is that he can’t wait to take it off him.
“Why do you look nervous?” Yoongi asks Hoseok, who still lingers by the doorway. He’s unsure of how to go, how to move, his arms suddenly awkward at his sides.
“Maybe I am,” Hoseok says. When Yoongi pushes back from the desk, that’s his cue to move, his nerves racketing as he approaches and sits on Yoongi’s lap. “You look cute.”
“What? The glasses?” Yoongi asks, adjusting the frames. “They make me look stupid.”
“No, they make you look cute. Can you kiss me now?”
Yoongi’s mouth is softer than Hoseok remembers it being. Soft and pliant and wet as it slides against his, opening to accept more, more . Hoseok is hungry, nearly aching with it. He thinks he’s been waiting long enough.
He pulls away to take the glasses off and place them on the desk behind them.
Yoongi takes a single look and says, “if this is going where I think it’s going, those won’t be safe there.” He grabs them and puts them in a drawer.
“I’m interested to know where you think this is going,” Hoseok says, even though he’s achingly hard in his pants and Yoongi isn’t doing much better.
“Can I show you?”
Hoseok nods and soon finds himself being lifted up and placed on his back atop the desk, papers fluttering to the floor. Yoongi looms over him, his hips pressed flush with too many clothes between them. Hoseok’s hands fumble with his belt, cursing under his breath as he struggles to get the stupid, useless thing off. Chuckling, Yoongi takes his wrists and pins them above his head.
“ I’m supposed to be showing you , remember?”
“I’m sorry, teacher,” Hoseok teases, enjoying the way Yoongi’s eyes darken. “I’ve just been so impatient all day.”
“I’ve been impatient since the first time I saw you,” Yoongi mutters, hands sliding under Hoseok’s shirt to tease at sensitive skin.
It takes far too long to get all those clothes off, Hoseok kicking off his own jeans with a huff. He’s left shivering atop the desk in just his boxers, his hard cock tenting the fabric and begging to be set free. Yoongi looks at him for a long time, his eyes roaming, his hands following close behind. It’s only when Hoseok pulls him down by the collar of his sweater that he seems to start into action again like a little wind-up toy, going through the motions of undressing while still actively trying to touch and kiss Hoseok- not an easy endeavor at all.
“If this is going where I think it’s going,” Hoseok murmurs, his hand wrapping around Yoongi’s cock, stroking him slowly from base to tip, “we’re going to need some lube.”
Yoongi makes a caught off sound, the way Hoseok says the word almost lewd . “Shit,” he curses under his breath because Hoseok is right. Lube is very important right now. He thinks to look in his desk but in what instance has he ever needed to keep something like lube in a classroom full of children? He fumbles around his desk, hard and out of options until he remembers the bottle of lotion tucked away in a drawer.
He’d brought it in with the intention of keeping his hands from getting too dry during the winter months. Totally innocent, really. But now the way the cream pools in the cup of his palm is obscene, too and Yoongi is starting to suspect it has more to do with Hoseok, propped up on his elbows and watching him with those dark eyes. He tugs his boxers the rest of the way off, his cock springing free to smear a bead of precome against his stomach.
“Fucking beautiful,” Yoongi mutters, slick hands sliding up Hoseok’s thighs to grip his cock and give him a few languid strokes. Even the way he moans is pretty, his head tipping back to expose the expanse of his neck. It’s better than any fantasy of Yoongi’s, better than anything his lust-addled mind could conjure out of his guilt-ridden feelings for one of his student’s parents. This moment, though, makes all of it worth it. Every damn second of it.
“I’m going to come if you keep going like that,” Hoseok pants, his eyes following the lazy movement of Yoongi’s hand up and down his cock, wet noises filling the air.
Just like that, Yoongi stops. Hoseok groans, watching precome bead at the tip of his cock just before sliding down the shaft and soaking into the bed of dark curls at the base. When he looks up, he finds that Yoongi had been staring, too.
“How do you want to come then?” Yoongi asks, his voice so rough it sends shivers down Hoseok’s spine. He looks a lot more disheveled than he had only mere moments ago. Did I do that? Hoseok wonders and the prospect fills him with pride.
Hoseok hums pensively like he hasn’t been thinking about the million and one ways a certain Min Yoongi could bend him over the desk and fuck him. “With your cock inside me, preferably.” Fantasy rarely gets to become reality so Hoseok is quick to rearrange himself in the second it takes Yoongi to process his words, bent over the desk just as he’d imagined, the hard edge digging into his stomach and his ass up in the air.
Yoongi curses under his breath. He strokes over Hoseok’s thighs, fingers digging into the meat of his ass hard enough to leave little crescent marks. Spreading him open. Yoongi’s thumb brushes against his hole, a mostly accidental touch that has Hoseok moaning into his arm like a desperate bitch.
“I don’t have condoms.”
Hoseok groans, frustrated. “Fuck, Yoongi, if you don’t get inside me right now- ” a hand over his mouth shuts him up, Yoongi laughing in his ear and pressing so close Hoseok can feel his cock sliding against his hole, slick with precome.
“Be quiet,” he whispers. “There might still be a custodian around.”
Hoseok nods with understanding and the hand leaves his mouth, returning instead to spread him open. The touches on his rim, though still light, are more deliberate now. Purposeful. He can’t help but arch back into it, a low moan escaping him as just the tip of Yoongi’s thumb presses inside of him.
“Fuck, please,” Hoseok pleads as quietly as he can, spreading his legs open wider, his knuckles white where they grip the edge of the desk. “You can just pull out, Yoongi, please.”
“Alright,” Yoongi soothes him with a tinge of humor in his voice, a lotioned hand gently rubbing Hoseok’s lower back. “Alright, baby. Gonna get you ready for me okay?”
“Call me that again.”
“Baby?” A finger circles Hoseok’s rim, teasing at the possibility of sliding deeper inside, up to the last knuckle. “Do you like that?”
It’s been too long. Hoseok is overcome with the sudden fear that he doesn’t know what he’s doing, sure that he looks terribly unsexy bent over that desk so desperately. He just can’t help it, aching and needy, begging Yoongi to fuck him with his fingers properly in a hushed voice. He can at least still remember his manners. Two fingers later, however, and he’s nothing more than a blubbering mess, Yoongi’s fingers filling him so perfectly there are tears in his eyes.
“I’m ready now,” he whimpers. “I’m ready, you can fuck me now.”
“Baby,” Yoongi whispers, pressing a kiss to his bare shoulder. Hoseok whimpers again. “One more, yeah? Just one more and then you can have whatever you want.”
“Whatever I want,” Hoseok repeats stupidly, his head too heavy to lift now.
The stretch of that third finger is exquisite. Hoseok moans loudly, no longer caring about any late-working custodian who might hear them. He doesn’t care about anything except how stretched he feels around Yoongi’s fingers, open but full as they slowly pump in and out of him.
He hadn’t had a chance to look properly in the frenzy of undressing. Even the blunt head, when it pushes against his rim, is bigger than Hosseok had been expecting. He whimpers, gripping onto the desk harder as Yoongi slowly presses inside with a low, low groan.
“Fuckin’ tight,” Yoongi grunts. Nearly halfway inside and Hoseok is panting, fighting not to come, filled to bursting. Yoongi adds more lotion, hips snapping forward and forcing himself the rest of the way inside. Hoseok shouts his name and that hand comes over his mouth again, holding on tight as Yoongi pulls out and slams back in with so much force the desk moves forward an inch.
“Is this how you wanted to be fucked?” Yoongi whispers in his ear, setting a steady, brutal pace. All Hoseok can do is whimper in response. Even without the hand over his mouth his mind would be too fucked out to think of any proper words. "You take it so well, baby. Fuckin’ made for me.”
Where Hoseok can’t find words, Yoongi can’t seem to stop them pouring out of his mouth. He can’t stop blabbering on about how good Hoseok feels, how tight and perfect . How he’s just like he’d imagined and how much he’d imagined doing this very thing. Hoseok can’t even warn him when he comes completely untouched, his body going tense, clenching tight around Yoongi’s cock. He thinks he must make a mess of the desk and then Yoongi pulls out, makes a mess out of him, come splattering his lower back.
He slumps against the desk, weak and boneless. Breathing hard. He hasn’t been fucked that good in ages , can’t even remember when the last time was. Too long , his mind supplies uselessly.
Yoongi grabs a few tissues and cleans him up, gentle when he wipes at the mess of lotion around Hoseok’s rim. “How are you feeling?” he asks, his voice soft now, a little breathless. Hoseok can only nod, shifting from foot to foot. He’s not trying to be enticing but he can feel Yoongi’s eyes on him again and can only imagine how he must look, his hole no doubt still open and begging to be fucked again. Hoseok can’t say he’d mind it, either.
“C’mon,” Yoongi says, grabbing Hoseok and helping him upright. “Gotta get dressed now.”
“Can I have a minute? Or ten?” Hoseok asks. They somehow end up on the desk chair again, Hoseok on Yoongi’s lap and feeling incredibly heavy. He could fall asleep right there, he thinks. Uncomfortable as it is, he could do it with Yoongi’s arms around him, his warmth under him.
Yoongi chuckles and then, “I hope it’s not inappropriate if I ask if we can go get coffee sometime.”
“Coffee?” Hoseok asks quizzically.
“Or a nice dinner,” Yoongi adds, blushing.
Hoseok stares for a moment. “Are you asking me on a date right now?”
Yoongi’s face colors further. “It can be, if you want.”
Hoseok pretends to consider it a moment. “Dinner sounds nice,” he says. “But just so you know, I don’t put out on first dates.”
Laughing as he kisses Hoseok’s temple, Yoongi says, “that’s fine with me.”