Work Text:
Seokjin finally leans back on his chair after god-knows-how many hours of being glued to his computer screen, finishing a report that was due yesterday.
His backlogs have piled up because of back to back meetings that week. Plus the almost daily mandatory lunch out with clients who recently flew in the country; he only has the after-office-hours to completely focus on his submissions.
Today is a Friday, the fifth consecutive night he's done overtime work for an average of four long hours, and he just hit send on an email containing the report he's been working on for the past two days.
The office is almost empty, some of the lights have been turned off, and it's already dark outside. Figures, he thinks, removing his glasses and closing his eyes to rest them for a bit. It's 10PM. He's only had convenience store salad and yogurt for dinner but he'd much rather lie in bed than fill his stomach with a celebratory feast and drinks after a long, long, long week at work.
He allows a few minutes of zoning out and staring at the blinking building lights outside the window before he packs up. A tiny spark of accomplishment lights up in him when he's shutting down his computer, but it easily disintegrates when he yawns. Sleep. He wants to sleep. He needs to go home.
One thing he's completely forgotten to take into account is how Friday nights are like in this godforsaken city. It's usually not so terrible, but today is also salary day, so it's the worst kind of Friday. Buses are full, taxi drivers are extra selective when it comes to passengers, the nearest train station is located several miles away, and the entire working class seem to be commuting to somewhere all at once.
Seokjin honestly considers going back to the office to take a nap, in hopes that he'd wake up to an easy Saturday morning, a brand new day already. But he is halted by a drip on the back of his hand. When he looks up, rain starts pouring down like tiny daggers from the starless sky. And then, what seems to be just a drizzle immediately turns into heavy downpour in a matter of seconds.
Seokjin hurriedly scurries back to the bus stop for shelter, shaking off rainwater that has grazed the strands of his hair and the shoulder pads of his gray blazer. He shudders when the sky lights up in a thunderous roar. When he turns ahead, all he sees are the blurred headlights of vehicles on the road and rain droplets wetting his eyeglasses.
When it rains, for some reason, the traffic gets worse and the commute gets harder. There are no vacant public utility vehicles stopping in front of the bus stop that he's at. A bus did, but its route is incredibly far from where Seokjin lives. It also seems as though the rain clouds will not leave any time soon. Another lucky factor—he forgot to bring his umbrella. Great. Just great.
Just as he's calling a cab, which blatantly ignores him, Seokjin's phone rings. He takes it out of his pocket and frowns until he feels like he wants to cry when he sees the caller ID's photo all over the screen.
"Yoongi." He answers, sniffs, exhaustion sinking in as his body suddenly yearns to be held and comforted by the name on his lips. "How's your gig?"
A scratch sounds from the other line, and then a faint revving of a motorcycle that's being started up. "The last one's canceled because of the rain. The boys are heading out. I'll go home in a while. Did you get home safely?"
"What?" Seokjin blinks and steals a quick glance at his wristwatch. It's almost 12 midnight. "Ah, fuck…" He should have been home an hour ago. He wants to go home. He needs to sleep.
"Why? Jinnie, why? Where are you?" The tone of Yoongi's voice raises in obvious, urgent concern.
It's sweet, really, but Seokjin doesn't want him to worry, so he answers as calmly as he can. "I worked overtime again tonight. And it's payday Friday and quite rainy so the commute is a bit challenging, but it's fine. I'll be home soon."
Thunders roar again, and Seokjin almost drops his phone from shock.
"Where are you?" Yoongi asks again, more insistently this time, yet gentle, still. It's one of the things Seokjin likes about him.
"I'm at the bus stop near the office. Safe and dry." He smiles as he presses his phone against his cheek, fondly savoring the realization that he now has someone to miss. "Don't worry about me, Yoongichi–"
"Stay there, okay? I'll come pick you up."
The rain appears to pour heavier as lightning strikes through the black sky. Rainwater begins to pool by the gutters on the road, spilling over to the pavement. Car horns are honking angrily at the traffic lights. People are lumped into groups under every visible shed, waiting for the rain to subside so they can go home.
Seokjin could have easily accepted his boyfriend's offer if he's driving a car. But Yoongi is driving a motorcycle. He can't let him power through the storm on his bike just to fetch him. "Yoongi, no, it's fine," he softly rejects. "I can wait for a bus to come. I'll be able to go home soon."
A stronger, familiar-sounding rev sounds from the other line, followed by Yoongi almost screaming into the phone—probably speaking over the heavy rain. "Wait for me! I'll be there in 10 minutes!"
Seokjin shakes his head. "No, Yoon–"
"Don't worry, I have an extra raincoat! I'll head out now. 10 minutes! See you!"
Before Seokjin can say anything more, Yoongi hangs up. He takes a deep breath and stares at the heavy traffic up ahead. He didn't get to say take care .
It's only been half a year since he met Yoongi, and not yet a month since they got together. Seokjin is still getting used to having someone worry about him and take care of him. Yoongi has always been like this since they became friends, but it's different now that they are mutually exclusive.
Still, as much as he likes to be coddled, Seokjin wants to make sure he doesn't bother Yoongi too much with his life's series of unfortunate events. He likes Yoongi a little too much, and he wants to be as careful as possible with him so that he can keep him for longer. At this stage, Seokjin is still afraid he might do something shitty, or that he might get caught up in a situation that would inconvenience Yoongi and potentially push him away—case in point: riding through the rain to pick him up because the public transportation system in this city is whack and he can't get a ride home.
The rain doesn't stop even as Seokjin chants his prayers to the sky. It's a thunderstorm, as reported on social media news outlets, and it might go on consistently like this for a couple more hours. If Seokjin doesn't go home now, he could be stranded because of the impending city road flooding.
He checks his watch for the fifth time. Ten minutes have passed and Yoongi has yet to arrive. He can't call him because won't be able to answer anyway as he's driving. All Seokjin can do is scan the road veiled by the storm and manifest a black Ducati to appear before him with Yoongi on it safe and sound.
Seokjin starts to get jittery as the thunder roars louder and the people seem to be disappearing one by one. He can only spot a few of them waiting for the rain to stop. But he worries about Yoongi's whereabouts more than trying to get home now. He cranes his neck and squints his eyes at the road but to no avail.
Moments later, he feels a hand wrapping around his right wrist, and Seokjin almost kicks the perpetrator in the nuts if his brain isn't fast enough to register to whom those pretty brown eyes belong.
Yoongi, his heart beats.
Yoongi has a thick black raincoat on and he's holding an umbrella. The end-strands of his hair are wet, curling like soft noodles at their fringes. His cheeks are a bit flushed and his button-nose is shiny at its tip. He looks like a freshly steamed bun. With a bit of eye make-up on from their gig, a badass freshly steamed bun.
Seokjin stares until he feels his cool ears warming, then he looks around. "Where did you come from?"
"I parked by the driveway of that building." Yoongi looks over his shoulder and nods toward the glass building nearest the bus stop. He tugs Seokjin forward and flashes a comforting smile. "C'mon, let's get you home."
Seokjin doesn't say a word. He just nods, and Yoongi grabs him by the shoulders and tucks him close as they walk through the heavy rain under one umbrella.
They reach the end-canopy of the driveway, and Seokjin waits patiently as Yoongi shakes and folds the umbrella, and gets an extra raincoat from the compartment of his motorcycle.
"Here." Yoongi gently ushers Seokjin forward. As soon as Seokjin steps toward him, he unravels the raincoat and puts it on him, buttoning it for him and fixing it right for a perfect fit. "Good?" he asks, grabbing the extra helmet he also keeps in the compartment. When he's face to face with Seokjin again, Seokjin nods. Yoongi fondly smiles and pinches his cheek.
"Ow," the latter nonchalantly says as his heart runs a marathon inside his chest.
Yoongi leans in and steals a kiss on the cheek. "Cute," he says before putting on Seokjin's helmet for him, careful not to bump his glasses out of place.
Seokjin frowns behind the cover, upset for not being able to do anything in return as he's already been bridled. So when he gets on the bike, he makes sure to give Yoongi one tight, tender back hug.
"You've had a long day, huh?" Yoongi asks as soon as he starts the engine.
"Sorry," Seokjin replies over the mixed noise from the Ducati and the rain. "You had to go through all this trouble just to get me home."
"It's okay. I wanted to see you anyway."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Yoongi revs the engine but doesn't take off yet. They just stay there for a while.
"But we'll see each other tomorrow. Well, later."
"I couldn't wait for later."
Seokjin feels like his pulses are drumming louder than the thunders that night. "Me too," he admits, hold around Yoongi's torso tightening. "Thank you for picking me up."
Yoongi then finally moves them forward, slowly, until he's angling toward the road. He asks Seokjin if he's ready. They are going to be traveling under the heavy downpour for at least 15 minutes. Seokjin fixes his helmet and raincoat, tells Yoongi to drive safely, and then they're off.
Riding a motorcycle in a storm isn't so bad. It's like sitting under a shower head that's lightly switched on, or dancing in the rain. It isn't too cold either. But maybe that's just because of Yoongi's warmth spreading all over his body the longer the drive goes.
It's half past 12 midnight by the time they reach Seokjin's place, and the rain seems to have grown stronger.
Seokjin gets off and scurries under the awning of his front door. Yoongi turns up beside him almost immediately. They take off their helmets and stare at the opaque blackness of the empty road; Yoongi’s Ducati appears almost invisible as it gets drenched by the rain.
Yoongi lets out one deep breath. "I think I should g–"
"I think you should stay."
As Yoongi looks up to meet his eyes, Seokjin swears he sees jewels in them.
"Stay here tonight," he says firmly. "I can't let you go in that ."
Yoongi blinks and turns toward the road again.
Seokjin swallows a lump in his throat. "Yoongi, please. The rain–" When Yoongi looks back at him, Seokjin feels his face burn. "Stay," he insists. "Please?"
Yoongi reads him like a puzzle, but after a few seconds, he considers. He nods, smiles. "Okay," he assents, reaching for Seokjin's arm and giving it a light squeeze. "I'll just cover up my bike."
Seokjin lets Yoongi use the remaining space of their small garage that turned into a makeshift storage room to park the Ducati in, which he covers in black polyester. They leave their helmets and hang their raincoats to dry in there too, before skipping puddles under the rain and running back to the front door porch.
This is not the first time that Yoongi has been in his house, but Seokjin feels a whirlwind of emotions course through him as he opens the door that night with Yoongi close behind him. For some reason, his heart is beating out of his chest. For some reason, he knows what to do about it.
It's a bit dark when they enter, only the lampshade on the side table by the couch is switched on.
The first thing Seokjin checks is the shoe rack, which is unempty. The next thing he checks are the kitchen lights, which are switched off. The powder room seems to be empty as well, which means that his brother could already be sleeping or gaming up in his room, busy and couldn’t be bothered until the sun comes up.
The door clicks shut and the rain becomes a muffled sound in the background, silence and warmth engulfing the whole house. Seokjin turns around and sees Yoongi’s face after he removes his shoes and takes off his drenched black jacket.
Rainwater from Yoongi's hair has dripped onto his cheeks. Wet patches on his black shirt are sticking to his skin, bare arms glossy from sweat. Static surrounds Seokjin in a bubble when he meets Yoongi’s eyes again, bursting the moment he blinks.
“What?” Yoongi asks in a whisper, corners of his lips lifting in an amused grin.
And all Seokjin can think about is how insanely attractive Yoongi looks tonight. He leans in and answers the question with a kiss on the lips, an overdue feat, eyes closing to feel the rhythm, tempo slow and soft and tender. It’s sweet, yet enough to set Seokjin’s soul on fire.
He gently pulls back and opens his eyes to Yoongi staring at him, all flushed. His own heart revels inside his chest, jumping in his throat as he watches Yoongi trace his face with his eyes, trailing downward until they reach his lips. And then, it’s Yoongi’s turn to reply to his unspoken words.
Yoongi’s kisses have always been careful, feathery light. He presses his lips against Seokjin’s in between tiny intervals. His fingers crawl gingerly up his neck and settle there with delicate touches, thumb circling Seokjin's jaw in soft caresses.
Seokjin always basks in this heedful hold with a delighted sigh, patiently waiting for every move as Yoongi paints on him with closed eyes. But that night, Seokjin wants to drink up everything all at once; soak himself with every drop of Yoongi's kisses like he can't get enough of them. He billows forward, arms finding their way around Yoongi's shoulders in a tight hold, lips pressing deeper, harder.
They've never kissed like this before. Seokjin has wanted it, but he has yet to try it with Yoongi. Yoongi—who always does things with keen hands, nuanced in his movements, careful, especially with how he holds Seokjin. Seokjin doesn't know what to expect, or if Yoongi will appreciate such a brusque act in an intimate situation.
But then he feels Yoongi mouth parting to take him in, gobbling him up in a sudden demand. His hand on Seokjin's neck has crawled up to the back of his head, fingers running through his hair; his other hand secured around Seokjin's waist, pulling him closer until no gaps are left between their torsos.
Seokjin's head spins in a dizzying array as he gets lost in the kiss—tasteful and fiery and new to his lips. He doesn't notice how Yoongi has moved so he can press him against the wall, hitting the shoe rack as they go, until he feels the cool concrete against his back and Yoongi's warm chest weighing against his own. His hands slither down Yoongi's back and find their way under his shirt, sprawling all over cool skin, tracing lines and bumps with his fingers.
Yoongi briefly pulls back and rests his forehead on Seokjin's as he softly asks, "Do you want to?"
And with the way he feels Yoongi's breath on his face as he pants, Seokjin has never been so sure. He nods. "Yes."
It doesn't take a second for Yoongi to kiss him again, biting Seokjin's lower lip as he removes his blazer and loosens his necktie.
Seokjin feels himself disintegrate satisfyingly under Yoongi's hold, feels every touch as Yoongi untucks his shirt and takes his hands to explore his skin while kissing his neck. Yoongi grazes his chest with his fingernails and Seokjin moans in response.
"Isn't your brother around?" Yoongi whispers at the back of his ear, tickling his nerves.
Seokjin shivers with want. "I'm guessing he's in his room," he whispers back, breathing heavily as Yoongi nips at his jawline.
A playful scoff sounds from Yoongi's throat as he says, "Let's do it on the couch."
Seokjin giggles, and Yoongi catches his face with his lips and devours it all. It’s as though Seokjin has unlocked a new door in Yoongi’s house, and every second inside that secret room surprises him like electric shock.
Yoongi slowly takes off his eyeglasses, and the next thing he knows, he’s off the wall and is now being held down to lie on the couch.
Hands scram all over each other’s bodies. Seokjin finds Yoongi’s mouth on his neck again, lips skimming down his collarbone, wandering through every inch of exposed skin as he unbuttons Seokjin’s shirt. Seokjin’s mind and body buzzes with desire, and he absentmindedly brings his hands down Yoongi’s belt to unbuckle it. Yoongi breathes deeply as he moves down to plant gentle kisses on Seokjin’s chest.
“I’ve missed you so much,” he mumbles, and Seokjin feels his heart beat fast, fondness spreading like wildfire through his veins. “You’ve been locked in with work for a week, my hard working office man.”
Seokjin frowns and runs his fingers through Yoongi’s hair. “I’m sorry,” he replies shyly, gazing down at Yoongi who’s lifting his head up from his stomach. And it’s a view he never would have imagined to come to life. Seokjin’s senses magnify when Yoongi’s chin and lips dip onto his skin. He tucks a chunk of hair behind Yoongi’s ear and traces his brow bone and cheek with the back of his hand. “I’ll make it up to you.”
Yoongi pouts.
Seokjin’s insides burst with colorful confetti. He pushes himself slightly off the couch so that he’s face to face with Yoongi, ball of his right wrist supporting his weight while his free hand cradles Yoongi’s face in a loving caress. “I missed you too,” he kisses Yoongi’s left cheek, “so much,” and then his right cheek, before slotting their lips back together.
It tastes even sweeter the nth time around, and Seokjin just knows that he’s ready to drown himself in it.
“My room?” he breathes out. And they head up as soon as Yoongi nods, but not without him leaving one long and deep kiss on Seokjin’s lips.
The heavy rain blurs the outside view from Seokjin's bedroom window when they enter with a faint click and lock from the door. The lights are kept shut—only the glow of the streetlight graces the floorboard as Seokjin pulls Yoongi by the hand until they are sitting on the foot of his bed, looking at each other's eyes as though they're reading what the stars in them are writing.
He lets himself get lost in there, peacefully bathe under Yoongi's twinkling gaze until he feels brand new. But then the tips of Yoongi's fingers touch the inside of his forearm, and Seokjin's veins suddenly transform into a livewire, sparking currents as Yoongi trails his fingers up his elbow and caresses his face with his other hand.
Seokjin visibly melts in Yoongi's touch. He closes his eyes, sighing as he rests his head on the palm of Yoongi's hand before planting a sweet, fond kiss on it.
Yoongi runs his thumb tenderly on Seokjin's cheekbone where a pulse comes alive, racing faster than the pouring rain outside. "How are you real?" he whispers to the wind, warm breath brushing over Seokjin's eyelids to wake him up, forever stunned by this beautiful man who holds him like a delicate flower. Yoongi stares into his eyes and kisses him once; kisses him twice. "I'm not dreaming, am I?"
A smile paints Seokjin's face, eyes lighting up to Yoongi's galaxy-filled ones. He shrugs, scooting closer. "Does it matter?"
His gaze traces Yoongi's outline. The rain on his hair has dried up a bit but the faint blush is still on his face. His shirt is pulled up a little from the back from where Seokjin's hands have lingered earlier, showing a little bit of skin on his side. Seokjin wants to touch it. "I always dream of you anyway." When he looks back up, he scoots closer again—closer, until their thighs are touching and Seokjin can hook his arms around Yoongi's neck; press their foreheads together.
Yoongi's warm breath touches Seokjin's cheek as he grins. "You do?"
And it's the same wild grin that gets Seokjin weak in the knees. He answers with a nod and a chaste kiss, lips brushing over Yoongi's, tracing his chin, his jaw, until they reach his neck where he's tempted to plant bruises on.
When Yoongi makes a faint, hitched sound, Seokjin switches from light presses to deep, savory kisses, slowly angling himself to lay Yoongi down on his bed—one hand on his shoulder, the other on the back of his head.
And it's how Yoongi looks like lying beneath him, with a sliver of light and rain from the outside reflecting on his skin and eyes, making them shimmer like marbles underneath the sea. He's iridescent, so gorgeous that Seokjin sometimes wonders if he's allowed to love him, to touch him.
"You're beautiful," he blurts, absentminded in his stead, fascinated, mesmerized by Yoongi's galaxy. "I can't believe you're mine."
Yoongi, wide-eyed and flushed, looks away with his hair covering half of his face. "How can you say such things with a straight face?" he mumbles, puckered lips visible even in the dimness of the room.
Seokjin wants to kiss them. Again. And again and again and again. He carefully retrieves his hand to brush Yoongi's hair away from his face.
Yoongi turns to watch him before settling, eye to eye with him again.
Seokjin can't help but ask, "Can I keep you, Yoongi?"
A few seconds pass. Then Yoongi scoffs as he grins sassily. He likes doing that, Seokjin notes, because Seokjin secretly likes how cocky Yoongi can be.
"I'm already yours, silly."
There isn't enough time to think of an equally reassuring declaration, not enough time for Seokjin's heart to prepare for an outburst of wild confetti. Because the moment he opens his mouth to respond, Yoongi pulls him by his necktie and slots his open lips into his in dire ardency.
Heat instantly fills Seokjin's face, immediately spreading to his neck, his shoulders, and engulfing his entire system in flames of red-orange and blue. His whole body is on fire, igniting more and more sparks as Yoongi's hands crawl all over his back, his arms, his waist, his hips, his thighs.
The more his skin burns, the deeper his tongue feels Yoongi's warmth surrounding it. The more he presses himself onto him, the deeper Yoongi's fingernails dig into his skin. It stings, but it makes him want to devour Yoongi even more.
Seokjin doesn't even notice that he's sucking at Yoongi's lower lip until the latter grunts into his mouth and quickly maneuvers them both to switch positions.
Their lips only part when Yoongi pulls back an inch to look into his eyes and ask him, breathlessly, once again, "You sure you want to do it?"
Seokjin can feel his face warming even more; his nerve-endings sparking.
It's because they have yet to take their relationship to the next level. It's because Seokjin has talked to Yoongi before about respecting boundaries and preferences. It's understandable that Yoongi makes sure to check if Seokjin is not just swayed by the moment. But Seokjin knows now. This night is perhaps the most intimate they have been since they started to be exclusive, and everything feels so natural, so right.
Only one answer flashes in his mind, crystal clear before his eyes. "I want it." He brings his hand to cup Yoongi’s cheek, marveling at the view as the blood in his heart bursts at the seams. “I want you, Yoongi.”
Yoongi brushes a thumb over his browline, his cheekbone, down to his chin, hovering over his lips like he can't wait to taste them again. "You have absolutely no idea what you’re doing to me, Kim Seokjin-ssi." The corners of his lips lift in a tiny smirk, and Seokjin feels his blood shoot up his spine when Yoongi bites his lower lip, slowly, until he feels the swell on the tip of his tongue. "You have no idea how much I love you."
The rain seems to have roared stronger as time stills inside Seokjin's bedroom. He doesn't hear anything but the barrage of raindrops on their roof and the soft tone of Yoongi's hums as he drowns him with kisses. He doesn't feel anything but Yoongi's careful fingers unbuttoning his shirt. He doesn't see anything else but the yellow haze from his window and Yoongi taking his own shirt off before dipping onto his skin, peppering his torso with tickling kisses as he goes further down the edge of the bed, caging himself between his legs.
Seokjin's heart beats like a loud drum inside his chest when he hears his belt unbuckle and his slacks' zipper pulled all the way down.
He breathes deeply, slowly, surely as Yoongi begins to touch him. His grip on the sheets is tight and secure, just like how he would grab Yoongi's hair later while he takes him in. He arches his back and neck, eyes shot at the ceiling before shutting them close and feeling every single vein in his body throb to the beat of his racing heart.
Stars align behind closed lids, and Yoongi's mouth on him brings him back to life as the rest of their clothes are discarded on the wooden floor.
And then, it's body to body, skin to skin, bite marks on shoulders, bruises on inner thighs, tongue on each other's neck, and hot kisses on swollen lips as though there isn't another day for them to do this again. Everything feels slick and sensitive and hot and sweet all at the same time, and Seokjin feels his body revel over the abundance of love and lust and fire and ice.
As the rain continues to melt the earth under the city lights, Seokjin breathes heavily against the soft yet solid pads of his boyfriend's chest, tasting his sweat on his lips as they ride through the night.
And he thinks to himself: that he's willing to weather through a storm, or wait forever, or sacrifice a few hours of sleep on a workday with overtime, if that means he'll get to spend it with Yoongi—all of him, all to himself.