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taehyung hardly has the audacity to look contrite when he pushes open the door to the green room and ends up nose to nose with jeongguk, his casual demeanor unchanged by the heat that builds between them. jeongguk is angry, if angry is even the right word—mortified, perhaps, or something akin to shame. the first thing jeongguk notices is that taehyung smells of baby powder and hairspray, the particular sweet-stink of sweat that isn’t awful but intoxicating. the second thing is that taehyung’s pupils are completely blown with affection.
‘is that song about me?’ jeongguk demands. he doesn’t have to clarify because taehyung knows which song he means.
the haunting words might as well be a lullaby, dulcet timbre accompanied by melancholic piano chords (—when i try to dream, i imagine us together, goodbyes an afterthought, still together but only in my sleep.) taehyung raises his chin in defiance.
‘yes,’ taehyung says breathlessly—
and when jeongguk surges, he’s sure it’s with the intent to punish, pale hands fisting in the front of taehyung’s glamor sequined black turtleneck, elegant stringed necklace dangling from his neckline but instead, he ends up gently cradling the back of taehyung’s head when he crushes him against the door. jeongguk swallows taehyung’s moan and tastes sultry honey on the tip of his tongue.
they aren’t together for a reason. incompatible. taehyung is a dreamer and jeongguk is a realist. they clashed together on set then fucked, wet and nasty, in the trailers afterwards while pretending to practice lines together.
taehyung wants more and more and more, a soft and morose muse bound by this mortal coil, and jeongguk doesn’t have enough to give him. he bites down on taehyung’s plush lower lip until he tastes blood beneath the sugar glaze, and taehyung cups jeongguk’s cheeks in his hands and tries to pull him closer and closer, fruit ripe and ready to devour.
jeongguk shoves his hands beneath that sleek turtleneck, palms pushed flush against taehyung’s tight little body, skin skidding across the scented and delicate oil meant to make his body shimmer beneath the lights, belly soft and arched. his puffy nipples are sensitive and responsive when jeongguk pinches at them, both of taehyung’s thighs coming to clamp together around jeongguk’s thick muscled leg, the upper part of his own thigh kissing friction against the hiccup of arousal stirring in taehyung’s tight leather pants. glazed milky brown eyes water when jeongguk finally releases taehyung’s lip, but there’s no time to breathe between the intense longing. he buries his mouth against the thud-thump pulse beneath taehyung’s swan neck and bites down until taehyung is tearing at his hair by the roots.
‘you made a fool of me,’ jeongguk snarls. he drags his nails down taehyung’s pretty chest until red lines become artwork and then begins fussing with the button of his pants. ‘is that what you wanted? huh?’
‘you,’ taehyung gasps, ‘are an idiot without my help—’
jeongguk can’t deny that. he always lies and says it’s a mutual split, that he and taehyung decided together that they were better apart, pretending there isn’t a chaebol yanking the chain connected to a metaphoric collar, but it’s not true. taehyung leans back against the door, honey skin reddening as he helps jeongguk slide the leather down, softly laughing at jeongguk’s confused expression. he dips his fingers beneath the skin-toned elastic and pops it against taehyung’s underbelly.
‘a dance belt,’ taehyung explains softly, tone tinged with amusement and self-conscious arousal.
he hums in surprise when jeongguk flips him around, one hand splayed between taehyung’s sharp shoulder blades while the other drags that sleek leather down over the curve of his ass. jeongguk touches the outline of the flesh toned elastic, traces it to where it begins to disappear between taehyung’s cheeks.
‘the song, taehyung,’ jeongguk repeats hoarsely. ‘when did you—’
‘the paparazzi photos of you and han sohee—’
‘it was for a movie—’
‘how was i supposed to know?’ taehyung asks, bread cheek plumed against the door. ‘you were avoiding my calls.’
because i would never do that to you, jeongguk wants to say, but he can’t. he settles for falling to his knees behind taehyung, hooked fingers dragging the dance belt down along with those heinously tight leather pants. he kisses the mole on taehyung’s left cheek and nuzzles his skin, unable to keep his hands off every inch of flesh.
taehyung might as well be made from the elegant strokes of a god. legs for days, slim little waist, skin kissed by the sun and just as warm, soft fuzzy brown hair that smells like lavender and the sea, and an ass made for jeongguk. a cock too, a pretty pink little hole, magnetizing and deserving. jeongguk watches a spider silk strand of spittle dangle from the tip of his tongue to the fine curve of space between taehyung’s cheeks, already hot and wet against his pretty pink hole. Jeongguk thumbs taehyung’s flesh carefully, spreading his pert ass cheeks for a better view.
‘aa—googie—’ taehyung sways his hips ever so slightly. ‘how did you get in here?’
when jeongguk rises, he presses his face against the soft sweet-sweat scent that lingers on the ends of taehyung’s dyed honey strands of hair. he licks a fat stripe across taehyung’s nape, half-amused and half-annoyed. he leaves an open-mouthed kiss on the whimsical curve of taehyung’s ear, tasting the silver-gold of his dangling earrings.
‘your manager owed me a favor,’ he murmurs.
‘a-and what was that favor?’
‘doesn’t matter,’ jeongguk says quietly. he goes back to focusing on the task at hand, spit-wet tongue dancing across taehyung’s elegant neck, arms wrapping around his slender belly to hold him still so taehyung can’t wiggle away.
he wants to ask, why those lyrics? did i really make you so unhappy? but even then he knows that the words taehyung crooned over the sleek, white piano framed with gold accents in his stunning elegant ensemble weren’t ones of sorrow but desperation (—don’t give up on me, even in my dreams i still belong with you, please wait for me, why did you even leave, i still search for you in my sleep.) taehyung twists around, his fingers caressing through jeongguk’s hair, fingers knotting against his scalp.
it’s times like this that remind jeongguk of how it started. hot and heavy open-mouthed frustrated kisses on set, a passionate fight. taehyung had found out that jeongguk told his agent he didn’t want to work with a teenie bop idol and was furious, but then they had filmed their sex scene, taehyung pink-lipped kissing at jeongguk’s navel, and something changed.
and now jeongguk is mouthing at the sensitive skin at the back of taehyung’s neck, groaning against his flesh, eyes watering at the pull of taehyung’s fingers roughly digging into his scalp. so needy, so desperate for the feel of jeongguk’s body against his, hands feeling up so nice and hungry at his soft-toned body, jeongguk’s own hips answering every jerk and jolt of taehyung’s. his voice is pitched low, hoarse and raspy after hours of singing for an adoring crowd, for jeongguk even if taehyung hadn’t been made aware of his presence. jeongguk craves taehyung’s voice—the sound of his moans, the feel of the rumble of his voice box as jeongguk wraps his fingers around it. the shudder of taehyung’s body is intoxicating as taehyung rocks his hips back against jeongguk’s, his other hand splayed against the door for support.
jeongguk wants to pull taehyung free of his clothes, of their distance. wants to taste every curve and hard edge of taehyung’s body, his lean dancer thighs and his supple-soft tummy. he misses the lazy afternoons of mouthing at taehyung’s nipples, hands roaming, interrupted only by taehyung throwing one leg over jeongguk’s hips so he can press their hard cocks together, grinding and rutting until they’re cum-wet and drooling, too lazy to kiss and too horny to ignore the shameless, greedy hunger that connects them both. no matter how hard they both try, they’ll never escape this, and now with the warmth of taehyung’s flesh gracing jeongguk’s skin, he isn’t sure he wants to.
‘mmm, googie, it’s not enough—’ like clockwork.
taehyung breaks like he always does. he releases jeongguk’s hair and begins to turn.
taehyung clashes into him like a supernova, wild with arousal and babyboy clumsiness as he crowds into jeongguk’s space and sends him stumbling backwards into the make-up table. the force of it causes palettes and brushes to crash to the carpet, creating a dusky cloud of glitter and hormones. taehyung kisses hot and heavy, open teeth-clashing with too much spit and tongue, hands cradling jeongguk’s cheeks and refusing to let him breathe any air. not that he would want to. this is all he wants. taehyung’s kiss of life, his recipe, every single meal he’s ever needed and will need. jeongguk devours him equally.
in the midst of their struggle, taehyung half-crawls into jeongguk’s ribs in an act of passion and jeongguk knocks over a bottle of body oil. he knows the brand well enough. taehyung sinks his teeth into his lower lip.
‘tete-ah,’ jeongguk says roughly, ‘hyung wants to fuck your ass.’
to which taehyung mewls in understanding, cheeks pink flushed. puppyboy wet eyes, pink mouth pleading, the secret worshiping yes at the idea of a fat cock to split him open. he pines for it, years for it, immortalizes it in words (—SORROWFUL CHIME OF A PIANO CHORD: if only you were here in my dream, i could pretend you never said goodbye, lying next to you before i sleep, still together but only in my dream.) jeongguk pulls taehyung’s mouth to his, fingers brutal on the nape of his neck and pushes the oil into taehyung’s fingers with an unspoken command. taehyung uncaps the and blesses jeongguk’s fingers with it, somehow managing to worm further between his legs as jeongguk dances his fingers between his ass cheeks and right against his selfish hole.
‘use me,’ taehyung sighs wistfully, arching his back against jeongguk’s probing fingers, huffing out as he takes one up to the knuckle. he shivers. ‘make it rough—make it hard, wanna—ahm, wanna feel you tomorrow when i perform at tsx—’ he keens, mouth sweet against jeongguk’s chin.
‘nasty thing.’ jeongguk’s tone is accusatory, but taehyung folds into his chest and presses his sweat-matted hair against jeongguk’s neck mole. he croons, arms locking around jeongguk’s waist. ‘you need to slow down.’
‘don’t wanna slow down,’ taehyung pants, wiggling so aggressively that jeongguk groans at the pressure, their cocks brushing—taehyung’s bare and jeongguk’s straining against his jeans. ‘want your cock inside.’
‘patience,’ jeongguk grits out.
taehyung shakes his head, a gentle sob breaking through. ‘inside now. miss you, need you.’
jeongguk gets it. he memorizes the sniffle taehyung lets out as he adds a second finger, spreading apart his knuckles out of lewd self-interest. he wants in, needs in, would trade oxygen just to feel the tight warmth of taehyung’s greedy, oil-wet asshole around his fat cock. the physical hurt would drown out the emotional hurt, the mournful piano that jeongguk still hears even with taehyung moaning softly against his throat, hiccup-whines and drooly mouth trailing hot kisses up-down and back. he starts to push in a third finger just to check, but taehyung’s taut control breaks and he reaches around to pull jeongguk’s hand away.
maybe it’s the thick heat, post-show madness blues, the sick thrill of seeing your ex in a tight enclosed space that makes jeongguk’s brain falter any rational thought. all he can do is remember the before, the time that existed before he broke taehyung’s heart, when all they had was one another, tight-fit ass snug around jeongguk’s chubby-fat cock that taehyung used to praise daily and nightly. he pulls taehyung close then nearly flips him with a sudden idea, where the view stops being the wall with the set list costume changes and becomes taehyung’s angelic visage illuminated by vanity lights.
‘this what you want?’ jeongguk asks gruffly, fisting one hand in taehyung’s hair while the other messily undoes his jeans then guides the tip of his cock to taehyung’s rim. ‘just wanna quick fuck?’
‘you’re the one who—who called ‘us’ off, remember?’
jeongguk feels like spitting. ‘how could i forget?’
‘so why—’ taehyung moans, hips uneven as he struggles to accommodate jeongguk’s girth, ‘would you expect me to ask you for something romantic?’
‘because you still love me,’ jeongguk says smugly. he bottoms out and sighs wistfully.
taehyung doesn’t say anything to that, just hisses in a white-pain pleasured way, like a cat with cream, eyebrows pulled together in intense concentration like he’s trying oh-so very hard to hold onto that anger in his chest, but they both know what this is. a twisted form of romance, a severance package all at once. jeongguk will say that taehyung will never see him again, and taehyung will laugh haughtily like they won’t both be desperate to see one another even mere seconds after departing. it isn’t even a game they’re playing, just chess pieces for other more powerful people.
‘you still love me too,’ taehyung says through hushed pleasure, hips twisting so much that jeongguk has to hold him up, ‘otherwise you wouldn’t be here right now.’
these words are stutter-slurred, lispy and raspy, lacking the bite an accusation should have because they both know taehyung is right. it’s almost a shame how true to form it is—jeongguk has listened to every new taehyungie release since they filmed together last and has the words memorized by heart (—the effortless chime of TOUCH ME FUCK ME LOVE ME LOVE ME! still echoes in a lonely nyc apartment, one side colder than the other.) so it’s what he does. jeongguk pushes his fingers through taehyung’s rough, coarse wolfcut complete with glitter and extensions, layered to expert perfection and begins fucking him so well taehyung squeezes his knees together with a gruff moan.
jeongguk is obsessed with the way it looks. taehyung’s voluptuous, fatty bouncing cheeks wrapped snug around his cock, tight rim sucking him in like something devious. he’s obsessed with the way taehyung’s lower back dips with pleasure, a dimple on one side, tapered from the shoulders to the waist like a wet dream come to life, and even better than that, angel-shaped bones that come to form a perfect halo for jeongguk to lean forward and kiss. a blessing between the shoulder blades that makes taehyung roll his head back with a whimsical sigh, a remembrance of the past. we used to love each other like this on the weekends. i remember. do you?
but that isn’t the only thing jeongguk is obsessed with. he watches taehyung’s strawberry-red mouth pop open in ecstasy at the feel of jeongguk’s slick-smooth glide in his fucked good hole, his eyes glazed over with the rosé haze of passion, sweet sex-flush high on his bread cheekbones, cheeks hollowed out as he moans, both hands used to brace himself on the vanity rather than reaching down to jerk his cum globby cock, cute little hiccuped strands dripping down his thighs and onto the green room carpet. a problem for later.
jeongguk slides his hand down from taehyung’s hip to press his thumb between where his cock disappears between taehyung’s flesh and pulls for a slightly better view, a soft laugh muffled in his throat when taehyung whines out of embarrassment, like jeongguk has never seen him like this before.
‘you’re—’ taehyung gasps, eyebrows pulled taut, ‘a sick pervert.’
‘look at yourself, aegi,’ jeongguk murmurs. ‘you’re all wet for me.’
‘your cock.’ taehyung shudders, dry orgasm bundling. ‘you always fuck me right.’
jeongguk grins. ‘i can tell.’
‘how so?’
taehyung’s head starts to fall forward, pretty tears collecting on his half-moon charcoal dark lashes, top lip glistening with drool that collects on the edges of his mouth. every rough thrust causes him to let out a breathy little moan, stutter-lisped babbles passing through, pure bliss like diamonds in the highlight of a warm honey-brown gaze. jeongguk pulls his head back up by the roots of his hair with wicked intent.
‘look at your face, my baby,’ jeongguk commands him, feeling his spine tighten with how fucked-out taehyung looks when he finally makes eye contact with himself in the vanity mirror. ‘you look so beautiful when you take my cock.’
‘ahm, hyuh—hyung, fuck, you fuck me so good, it’s all i want,’ taehyung mewls, weight shifting again. ‘give me more, more more—’
more, like jeongguk has enough to give after filling taehyung to the brim. virgin-tight rim molded effortlessly to the shape of jeongguk’s cock that glistens with the glitter-oil some lucky woman used to make taehyung’s skin shine beneath one of his sluttier fishnet tops, ingénue and coquette as he prances around on stage singing about slutting it out for attention while his prince charming is only half a world away. korea’s songbird and america’s newest prized doll.
jeongguk knows that he’s the prince, or at least the inverse of one. he’s trapped in between the silky smooth walls of taehyung’s hole, the plap-plap of their thighs smacking together while he ruts viciously, and the investors who want to keep his ice-prince stoic demeanor, alone and untouchable as the most coveted actor to have ever graced the silver screen since the last hollywood heartthrob. jeongguk likes this better: the whorish suction of taehyung’s gorgeous ass as the rough pounding makes it jiggle, a slight pinkening of the tanned flesh from how roughly jeongguk slams back into him, stem and root to the very depths of taehyung’s core.
taehyung’s arms give up and he collapses onto his elbows, hair ripped right from between jeongguk’s fingers without a care in the world. what started off as innocent like ah-ah-ah-ah’s has progressed into unapologetically wanton wailing, fingers pressed between his lips as he tries to regain some composure while being split open by the fattest cock he’s ever had. their secret little tryst is likely no longer that secret. taehyung’s voice bounces off the four walls like he’s performing at a private ceremony, and there’s nothing more deliriously sex-drunk than the way jeongguk feels hearing taehyung cry for him, sweet little blubbered moans as jeongguk milks him for all he’s got.
the pleasure isn’t enough to make him forget—taehyung raises his chin and gazes wetly into the mirror, cheek rested on the backs of his hands as he tries desperately to keep his eyes open, thick globs of tears sticking to his eyelashes, melting eyeliner and mascara, fucked-out blissfully, torn between dry orgasming and waiting for jeongguk who is holding so tightly onto taehyung’s hips now that it might be painful. even if it is, taehyung says nothing, relishing of the feel of jeongguk’s hands on his body again.
‘oh—oppa, oppa, oppa—’ taehyung keens with wild fascination, heaves a heavy sob for dramatic effect. ‘fucking me so good, so deep—rearranging m-my guts, fuck, fucking me so—’
jeongguk wraps an arm around his waist and pulls up, mouth hot against taehyung’s ear. ‘the only one who’ll ever fuck you this good.’
‘—the only one,’ taehyung gasps, lips spittyshiny.
‘fuck, taehyung—’
it’s jeongguk’s turn to glance in the mirror and marvel. taehyung’s tight body on prudish display, turtleneck rucked up to his cute tits, smooth plains of his abdomen tensing so flutter-shy muscle appears beneath the waves as he sighs. his thighs are still pressed together, cock drooly hard between them, trapped by his leather pants, gorgeous balls so chubby and cute. beneath his tan, a hue of red from overexcitement and stimulation. taehyung responds well to the awkward bend jeongguk holds him at, one palm flat against his belly while the other comes to wrap around his throat. even at this angle, at the way taehyung sits on his chubby cock, he takes it like a champ.
‘yeah?’ jeongguk grunts. ‘you keep this pussy tight for me?’
‘mmhm, hyung’s pussy,’ taehyung tells him, soft like a promise, nose nuzzling jeongguk’s jaw. ‘jeongguk hyungie’s pussy to fuck raw.’
it’s less savage fucking now than it was before, drastic rabbit-humps turned into the sort of slow grind someone typically sees at a club, bodies kissing sensually, glitter oil glistening. it’s a slow ride with taehyung craning onto the tips of his toes with both hands clasped around jeongguk’s arm around his midriff, simply allowing jeongguk to do whatever he wants to his body because he trusts him. jeongguk does all the work, lifting and splitting taehyung open.
‘hyung,’ taehyung whispers, jaw clenched bravely. ‘you love me, right?’
jeongguk knows he shouldn’t respond to it, but he’s looking in the mirror and watching as taehyung’s cock drools diamond tears just for him. he should lie. he knows he should lie. instead, he presses a gentle kiss to the space behind taehyung’s ears, lips wrapping tenderly around one of the dangling chains that taste like regret. he nibbles just to feel taehyung shudder.
‘yeah, i fuckin’ love you, aegi,’ jeongguk murmurs, unable to stop the way he affectionately nuzzles into taehyung. ‘love your tight cunt, love your pretty little voice—love, ahng, how you can’t sleep without holding something, love the way you smell, love—’ taehyung weeps, head leaned back on jeongguk’s shoulder. ‘come on, jagi, lemme hear you sing, lemme hear you come.’
high-pitched moan, choked and weepy, lips caked with slobber. a fat tear slides down taehyung’s cheek.
(—a harmonization, an inverse for the singsong peaches and cream: I WANNA MAKE LOVE, WANNA WANNA DIE YOUNG, WANNA WANNA FALL IN LOVE, IN LOVE TONIGHT!) taehyung looks like the birth of venus with the way he takes his pleasure, blue-purple veins showing like kaleidoscope colors through his body, and his cock is so weepy picturesque where it hangs and jerks against his soft underbelly and his pretty thighs. when jeongguk slides his hands down to touch taehyung for the first time, he creams against his fingers with a gorgeous wail, head shaking, nearly untouched.
jeongguk hates that he finds it cute, thick little pearl dewdrops that slide against the ink on his knuckles, gathering in the crevices of his fingers. this time when taehyung leans forward, jeongguk lets him and focuses on licking spidersilk cum off his fingers and relishing in the taste that’s distinctly taehyung, familiar and distant all at once. he lays his other hand against the small of taehyung’s back and focuses on seeking his own orgasm, ripple-bounce of taehyung’s ass every time he plows back in entrancing but even better is the lyrical masterpiece taehyung weaves just for him, bit out in orgasmic cherry waves in a private show, private performance.
‘ohp—oppa, cream in my pussy, please,’ taehyung begs. he glances back over his shoulder, renaissance pleasure painted on the curve of his brow as he pouts, gooey lisp entirely for jeongguk’s sake. ‘hyungie’s cock feels—ahm, feels so good fucking me open, please—wanna feel your cum drip out—’
‘gonna make it a song?’
‘gonna sample your—hyuh, fuck— gonna sample your moans—’
‘put me on the cover,’ jeongguk requests softly, and he feels the greedy clench of taehyung’s acquiescence. ‘you’d like that, wouldn’t you? getting to claim me—’
taehyung whines greedily. ‘you’re mine.’
i know.
jeongguk rubs his hand comfortingly over taehyung’s lower back, gentle circles against his knotted spine, and watches his cock slide in and out. taehyung moans softly, sleepily, satedly. but jeongguk is equally selfish and takes his time, relishes in the velvet glide as taehyung jerks and clenches around him, hiccup-stutter words falling like soup from his swollen lips.
there’s nothing more beautiful than the overstimulation. the butter glide of taehyung as he rocks back into jeongguk’s fat cock, side-to-side rocking of his hips like he’s trying to draw jeongguk in even further, eurydice to jeongguk’s orpheus. if he looks back, he is lost—but to look back is to love, and jeongguk bites down on the plush swell of his lower lip to drown out the sting of tears in his eyes. perpetually in a stasis named love, puppet-guided limbs and syrupy adoration. jeongguk comes with a hoarse cry.
they’re a mess of complex limbs and infinite roots holding hands beneath the surface of the world, as immortal as the sun and the moon waiting for their worthwhile eclipse kiss once every few years, as eager as the tide rolling out at the elegant call. jeongguk lowers himself over taehyung’s shoulders and peppers kisses like apologies against his willowy bones to which taehyung preens, skin sparkle sticky. he turns his cheek to capture jeongguk’s lips with his own.
‘you feel alright?’ jeongguk asks.
‘sore,’ taehyung confesses, chagrined half-smile consuming, ‘but it was worth it.’
jeongguk swallows. ‘let me clean you up.’
‘leave it.’ taehyung glances at himself in the mirror and smokes a thumb against a smoky shadow tear stain. ‘want the mess. who knows when i’ll get to have you like this again.’
jeongguk wants to correct taehyung and say that he won’t, but that’s a lie too. jeongguk will be there tomorrow at tsx watching as taehyung sings his heart out, the album dedicated to a swift year romance sung to everyone willing to listen, and taehyung will reach a hand out to the crowd just for him. no one will be any the wiser, but jeongguk might feel the shock of a collar who wants to remind him who he’s supposed to be coming home to.
he and taehyung will probably fuck there too. they’ll crash passionately and quickly, although taehyung will probably want jeongguk to be gentle, smooth gliding and facing one another, constant open-mouthed kissing and tongue fucking each other’s soft palates while jeongguk sinks into taehyung nice and slow, like lovers rather than enemies. then they’ll never see each other again until filming for the sequel begins, and the investor will be watching jeongguk to make sure he treats taehyung like a stranger.
‘for what it’s worth,’ jeongguk says, words sticky in his throat, ‘i like the song. it’s beautiful, taehyung.’
taehyung smiles. ‘you know i’d never portray you badly. even though you dumped me pretty harshly, i can still tell you love me.’
‘i’m sorry for being mad.’
‘don’t be,’ taehyung says, waving him away with a muffled yawn. ‘it was hot. just…don’t be so distant anymore, googie hyung. texting me back won’t kill you.’
taehyung simpers when jeongguk coaxes his cock out, copious cum dribbling down to taehyung’s candy-soft mochi balls. he accepts when jeongguk slides a chair beneath his knees so he can sit ass-presented forward like he’s waiting for the proof of their lovemaking to dry off-white against his honeycream flesh. jeongguk admires him for a moment longer, smoothing a thumb down taehyung’s soft ass.
‘i’ll see what i can do,’ he says fondly, fully aware of taehyung’s catlike attention on him in the mirror. ‘you have more concerts coming up?’
‘do you want me to have my seokjinie hyung send your namjoonie hyung tickets?’ taehyung asks, dabbing lightly at the corners of his eyes to clean up some of the mascara stains.
‘yeah,’ jeongguk says, ‘but hold that thought. there’s something i want to do first.’ he kneels behind taehyung and presses a kiss to the back of his thigh, and they both know it isn’t over. it’ll never be over.