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Seokjin’s hand covers Taehyung’s entire mouth. It causes Taehyung to take a second: a second to breathe through the nose, a second to remember how to think. After that he goes very still, quiet.
“See, baby,” Seokjin says, and his tone is a little mean, bordering on mocking. Taehyung can feel Seokjin’s lips brush over the skin of his ear with every curl of his lips, a byproduct of the main act—teeth. “You can be quiet.” Seokjin shifts them slightly, and Taehyung’s eyes roll into the back of his skull as he feels Seokjin’s hard-on push against him. Good, but not in the right place, not enough.
Taehyung doesn't move, but he’s not motionless either. He’s shaking with anticipation and want and nerves and—it’s hot. Hot in this room, hot outside, hot in the city and in the arena they performed in. He thinks so anyway, because he’s been on auto-piolot for the majority of the past two days and his head still hasn’t cleared. He fears his cognitive function may never fully return to him, that he’ll never be able to see straight again, never be able to perform for his fans or have a rational conversation. His brain has melted out of his ears and he couldn’t care less.
“But,” Seokjin says, clearly dissatisfied with Taehyung’s easy obedience. It’s not supposed to be easy because Taehyung wants it to be fun, and what he thinks is fun involves something a little less soft and sweet. “Can you behave? Be good?”
Seokjin is good at putting up a front. Taehyung is too, but not as much. Right now though, even Taehyung shivers at the absolute conviction in Seokjin’s tone, the unwavering confidence he’s able to assemble all for the sake of making Taehyung happy.
It’s not Seokjin, really, not at his core, but what Taehyung wants Seokjin wants to give, and that’s what makes it believable. Taehyung is fairly sure it’s the only reason Seokjin goes along with it at all.
“ Of course ,” Taehyung wants to snipe back, but he can’t. Seokjin’s big hand is called firmly over his mouth, and isn’t that lovely?
Taehyung jerks a little in his hold, but Seokjin’s arm around his waist, the one pinning Taehyung’s arms to his sides, clamps down tighter.
“You’re always so loud,” Seokjin continues on. “Sometimes I wonder if you’re faking it, so that someone comes knocking at the door and asks you to shut up.”
Taehyung sighs out of his nose, eyes sliding shut. He squeezes his legs together at the heat that rolls through his tummy. “That’s got to be it. You already know they know what we’re doing, so it can’t be that,” Seokjin says, and his voice has lost its edge, something closer to flat and intoneless, maybe slightly curious. “So what is it? You want me to let you answer the door with drool on your face? Want them to see you all fucked out and pretty?”
Taehyung thrashes a little harder, but Seokjin doesn’t relent, neither the hold around his body or over his mouth. Taehyung can imagine the ghosting smirk on his face, even if they’re sitting chest to back, and Taehyung can only see unremarkable hotel room when he opens his eyes.
“You didn’t answer me,” Seokjin says. “Is that what you want?”
Taehyung shakes his head no, frustrated it’s all he can do. Frustrated and very turned on. His cock is aching in his boxers, and all the skin to skin contact between them is, on its own, enough to send Taehyung into a spiral. Especially after the week they’ve had, and the amount of teasing Seokjin puts him through.
But couple that with Seokjin being a little mean, and well—
“Are you hard already sweetheart?” Seokjin’s hand on his waist wanders down to Taehyung’s tenting boxers. “You said that’s not what you wanted, but look at you. The body doesn’t lie.”
“Maybe I should have you go back to your room like this,” Seokjin says directly into his ear. Taehyung shivers. “Maybe someone will see you.”
Seokjin’s touch falls away, all of it, and Taehyung is left gasping on the bed like he’s run a marathon. Seokjin hadn’t even touched him yet, not really
“I don’t want to go back to my room, hyung,” Taehyung says. He’s surprised at how he sounds, already needy, pliant, softer. “Please don’t make me.”
“But you're so loud,” Seokjin replies, still behind him but not touching. Taehyung is too nervous to turn around or move, in case Seokjin decides he really is going to leave Taehyung on his own for the night, just to play with his food a little longer.
“I can be quiet,” Taehyung says. He’s burning with equal parts humiliation and need. “I swear.”
“That’s what you said the last time, when you asked me to fuck you in the dorms. But everyone heard you.”
Taehyung wants to throw a fit and defend himself. Yes it’s true, but only because Seokjin drags it out of him one way or another. He asks Taehyung to be quiet and then won’t let him come until he’s crying. It’s his little game, one that Taehyung had orchestrated to start, but Seokjin has since taken great joy in executing.
He makes up his mind and turns around, eyes wide and pleading. Seokjin’s expression holds no mirth, and it only serves to make Taehyung want more. He wants to dig his fingers under the mask Seokjin puts up and yank it off, even when he’s the one who asked for it in the first place.
Taehyung guesses he’s going to have to work for it, if Seokjin isn’t going to play nice. Not that he minds. When Taehyung leans in to kiss him, he’s not surprised he’s stopped, but the physical reaction of Seokjin’s hand lightly wrapping around his throat isn’t a subtle one.
Taehyung forces himself to breathe and keep his expression as unresponsive as possible, even if he’s dying a little inside for Seokjin to give him something .
“What makes you think I want to kiss you?” Seokjin asks him, mouth twisted with sarcastic amusement. Taehyung whines in his throat and pushes against the hold.
“I know you do,” Taehyung answers, and the strain causes his voice to come out deeper than usual. Seokjin seems affected by the sight or the sound or something, and Taehyung uses this to his advantage and surges forward.
Seokjin’s lips are plump and soft, as they always are, and Taehyung hums as he skips past gentle kissing to lick into his mouth, over excited and clearly over ambitious. He expects Seokjin to do something about it, maybe even hold Taehyung back another moment longer, but to his surprise finds Seokjin groaning into the kiss, hands vices on Taehyung’s waist.
“It’s hard for me to play this part when I want you as badly as I do,” Seokjin says against his mouth, the two of them breathing erratically.
Taehyung smirks a little, arms coming up to wind around Seokjin’s shoulders and neck. “I can’t help that I’m irresistible.”
His moment of victory is short lived as Seokjin flips them in a second, looming over Taehyung to kiss him again. “Don’t push your luck.”
“That’s all I’m good for,” Taehyung says, wrapping his legs around Seokjin’s waist to keep him there. “You should get undressed.”
“I’m having fun like this,” Seokjin replies, unhelpfully.
Taehyung sighs. “You want to fuck me with your clothes on? What a mess.”
“I never said I would,” Seokjin says even as he’s skimming the skin along Taehyung’s neck with his nose, pressing open-mouthed kisses ever so often. Taehyung wants him to bite but they both know he can’t. If anyone were to see…
But the idea is nice, in some alternate reality where they could, where people didn’t know their names and it would be nothing but a sign of affection, maybe possessiveness, between lovers. Or even more indulgently—a world where people did know them as they are, only they wouldn’t care about a mark or three.
Taehyung’s nails scrape down Seokjin’s backside through his shirt, and the sound of his nails against fabric mingles with the whirr of the air conditioner and distant city noise, thirty storeys below.
“You really do need to be quiet,” Seokjin says eventually. Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“You’re such a hypocrite.”
“I like knowing you’re enjoying yourself.” Seokjin remains unrepentant. “I can always help you.”
Taehyung squeezes his legs around Seokjin, a testament to his enjoyment of that thought. “It’s kind of redundant for you to be the one riling me up and then keeping me quiet, hm?”
“If Namjoon hears us again we’re going to regret it,” Seokjin deadpans. “But what is life without regret?”
“Not any life I want to live.” Taehyung bites Seokjin’s shoulder, who pulls back enough to give him a look.
“Right.”
—
That’s how they end up the way they do: Taehyung quivering all over with Seokjin’s fingers in his mouth.
He’s moaning around them quite unabashedly, which is the opposite of the point, but whatever. Taehyung likes the weight and pressure of Seokjin’s fingers against his tongue, the way Seokjin could choose to hook them over Taehyung’s bottom teeth and pull his head back, how Seokjin can still cover his mouth at a moment's notice this way.
At least he’s naked now. The both of them are, but Taehyung hasn’t found much reason to celebrate when Seokjin takes so long to fucking do something .
“You look pretty like this,” Seokjin tells him. His free hand glides the length of Taehyung’s left side, from his ribs down to the swell of his ass.
Taehyung hums, impatient.
When he feels the blunt press of Seokjin’s cock behind him, he jumps, even if he’d been waiting for it. Seokjin doesn’t actually press in, however, just moving in lazy circles against his hole. It’s wet and messy and filthy and Taehyung is about to scream for real.
“Feel good too.”
Taehyung tries to yank Seokjin’s hand out of his mouth so that he can complain, beg, something, but Seokjin doesn’t allow this. He corrects Taehyung’s mistake by taking his hands into his free one to hold them behind him, wrists pressed together and held into the small of his back.
Taehyung has no way to support himself, and so he goes down face first into the mattress, drooling all over the covers with fingers still in his mouth. He can’t really move in this position, can’t do anything but maybe wiggle his ass enticingly and hope Seokjin throws him a bone. Hah.
“Please,” he tries to whine, but between the way he’s pressed down and Seokjin’s hand, it comes out a disjointed mess of sound, unrecognizable to any language.
Seokjin’s cock is pressing against him enough only to feel the pressure before he backs away again, over and over and over. Taehyung starts up with the whining sounds, hoping Seokjin will want to move along more quickly. The quicker they finish, the sooner Taehyung shuts up, but Seokjin is a patient asshole.
Taehyung can’t see what’s going on back there, obviously. But his mind is in no shortage of imagery, the look of them together, Seokjin’s dick red and glossy with lube and precum. Taehyung clenches around nothing, another puddle of drool coating Seokjin’s hand. His own dick is twitching between his legs, painfully hard.
He has to refrain from biting Seokjin’s fingers clean off when he finally pushes his cockhead inside. “Good,” he tries to say (and does not succeed). It’s nonsensical. Seokjin makes him delirious.
“Aren’t you sweet,” Seokjin says. He’s not moving. Taehyung pushes back, but it does little good. His hands are still restrained behind him.
Seokjin doesn’t take it slow after that, doesn’t pull out and work his way in one devastating stroke at a time, and just goes all in instead. He pushes in, in, in, until it’s all Taehyung can think about, until he’s leaning over him, and when he pulls back out, he takes Taehyung with him.
It’s a testament to his strength, the way he pulls him up with only the hand in his mouth and on his wrists. Taehyung finds it hot. It’s very hot in here, he thinks again. Seokjin fucks him a little too knowingly for the illusion of their game not to shatter a bit. It’s too familiar, too loving, too good, for it to be anything other than a cringe worthy title like love making.
Taehyung loves it. He curses even if he can’t truly speak, makes a fuckton of noise every time Seokjin slides out and then back in, every toe-curling brush against his prostate. He’s satisfied when Seokjin’s fingers retreat and Taehyung gets one, uninhibited moan out, but the hand lays flat over his mouth.
“Loud,” Seokjin grunts. He sounds out of it. Taehyung feels his dick give a twitch at the knowledge that he’s caused this.
“Loud and pretty and mine— shit .” Seokjin lets go of his wrists to wrap around his middle and get a better grip, using Taehyung as leverage to fuck into him harder. Taehyung loves a man who knows the difference between strength and speed, when to use either. Seokjin is good at everything, though.
Taehyung tilts his head back until it lands on Seokjin’s shoulder, out of his mind with pleasure. He’s got Seokjin’s dick in a vice grip, and he knows he could come very soon. They haven’t had proper sex in two weeks, not between their performances and day to day living. Blow jobs and heavy petting weren't easy to come by either, because Seokjin refused to let Taehyung have his way in a supply closet. (Like it matters? Taehyung knows Jimin and Jungkook have done it a million times.)
Because Seokjin is careful, or maybe it’s because he has to take his time. Maybe he refuses to be anywhere Taehyung can’t be obnoxiously loud, Namjoon be damned.
When he comes, it’s with a high pitched keen that he manages to get out despite Seokjin’s best efforts, and Seokjin is not far behind him at all. They collapse into the sheets with matching pants, and Taehyung has to blink his vision back when he turns to look at Seokjin.
“I think the bed was hitting the wall,” he says. “Like. A lot.”
“Yeah. We’re not quiet,” Seokjin responds. He’s got a lazy smile on his face, so logically Taehyung has to climb over him and bite his lips.
“Round two soon,” Taehyung decides.
Seokjin laughs, but it comes out deep and raspy and Taehyung really shouldn’t be this horny immediately after getting off, but. “Round two right now.”
—
At breakfast the next morning, Namjoon only gives them a singular, deeply tired look. “I can’t share a wall with you two anymore. I just can’t do it.”
Taehyung noses into Seokjin’s neck, contently on his lap. Seokjin isn’t quite awake yet, barely responsive to Taehyung running his fingers through his hair.
“That sounds like a personal issue,” Taehyung quips. Namjoon looks up like he’s praying for strength he does not have.
“You should be grateful,” comes Seokjin’s gravelly voice, to Taehyung’s surprise; his eyes are barely open. “That was me keeping him quiet.”
Namjoon gets up and leaves. He doesn’t even take the food he ordered with him, and Taehyung steals it to feed Seokjin. He doesn’t find it in him to feel bad about it.