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The chair creaked under Jungkook's weight as he shifted for the fifteenth time in five minutes. Across the table, Kim Taehyung didn’t look up from the textbook, his fingers tapping a slow rhythm against the paper like he was counting the seconds until this torture ended.
Jungkook’s notebook was a mess of half-solved equations and doodles—mostly sharp angles and vague shapes that somehow always ended up looking like Taehyung’s profile. He’d drawn it so many times he could probably sketch it blindfolded now: the slope of his nose, the way his bottom lip curled just slightly when he was annoyed. Which, lately, was always.
"Focus," Taehyung said without glancing up. His voice was low, smooth, and completely uninterested. "You’re wasting both our time."
The problem was, Jungkook *was* focused. Just not on calculus. He’d spent the last three months memorizing the way Taehyung’s sleeves rolled up to his elbows when he got frustrated, the exact shade of his knuckles when they whitened around a pencil. Today, Taehyung had come in with his hair still damp from a shower, the scent of cedar and something faintly sweet clinging to him, and Jungkook had been doomed from the moment he sat down.
The droplet hit with a soft *plink*, spreading across the paper in a slow, inevitable bloom. It blurred the sharp line of Taehyung’s jaw in Jungkook’s latest doodle, turning it into a watercolor smear—something fragile and fleeting, like the moment itself. Neither of them moved. Taehyung’s breath hitched, just barely, his fingers pausing mid-tap against the textbook. Jungkook could count the freckles on the back of his hand from this distance. Three. No, four.
"Sorry," Taehyung muttered, but he didn’t lean back. His hair was still damp, the scent of cedar sharper now, mixed with the warmth of his skin. Jungkook’s pulse thudded in his throat. He could feel the heat radiating off Taehyung’s arm where it brushed against his own, the friction of their sleeves catching like a spark.
The textbook between them was a joke. Taehyung’s knee bumped Jungkook’s under the table—accidental, probably—and Jungkook’s pencil skidded across the page, leaving a dark streak. Taehyung’s lips twitched. Not quite a smile, but close. "You’re terrible at this," he said, voice low.
Jungkook swallowed. "At what?"
Taehyung’s gaze flicked down to the ruined doodle, the water still spreading in uneven tendrils. The corner of his mouth twitched again—not a smile, never a full one—but something loosened in his posture, like a wire snipped. "At pretending," he said, voice quieter now, rough at the edges. His knee hadn’t moved from where it pressed against Jungkook’s under the table.
The silence stretched, thick as the cedar-scented air between them. Jungkook could feel the heat of Taehyung’s arm where their sleeves brushed, the faint tremor in his own fingers as he reached out—slow, deliberate—to trace the blurred lines of his own drawing. His fingertip caught the edge of the wet spot, smearing it further. Taehyung inhaled sharply.
Then his hand closed over Jungkook’s wrist.
Taehyung’s grip tightened, his thumb brushing Jungkook’s pulse point—a silent question, a dare—before he abruptly stood, dragging Jungkook up with him by the wrist. The motion was so sudden, so effortless, that Jungkook barely had time to register the scrape of his chair against the floorboards before he was stumbling forward, pulled into the space Taehyung had just vacated. The textbook slid off the table with a muffled thump, forgotten. Taehyung didn’t even glance at it. His eyes were fixed on Jungkook’s, dark and unreadable, his lips slightly parted like he was about to speak—or maybe like he’d forgotten how.
Jungkook’s breath caught. Taehyung’s fingers were warm, his grip just shy of painful, and the scent of cedar was overwhelming now, wrapped around them both like a second skin. He could feel the heat radiating off Taehyung’s body, the way his chest rose and fell just a fraction too fast. For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Taehyung exhaled, sharp and uneven, and tugged Jungkook closer—not toward the door, not toward anywhere, just *closer*, until the space between them was nothing but static and shared breath.
"You—" Jungkook started, but Taehyung cut him off with a look, his free hand coming up to hover near Jungkook’s jaw, hesitating. His fingers trembled. That was the thing that unraveled Jungkook completely: Taehyung, who never hesitated, who always had an answer, whose voice never shook—*Taehyung was shaking*.
The realization punched through him like a live wire. He didn’t think. He just leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Taehyung’s shoulder, inhaling the cedar and the faint sweetness beneath it. Taehyung went rigid for a heartbeat—then his hand settled at the nape of Jungkook’s neck, fingers tangling in his hair, holding him there.
Jungkook hesitated for a breath—then pushed Taehyung back against the table, scattering papers as his hands finally explored the body he'd been sketching for months. The edge of the wood dug into Taehyung's hips, but he didn't flinch, didn't pull away. His fingers tightened in Jungkook's hair, urging him closer, and the last thread of restraint snapped. Jungkook's palms slid under Taehyung's sweater, tracing the sharp lines of his ribs, the dip of his waist—real, *real*, not just graphite on paper. Taehyung shuddered against him, a sound catching in his throat that wasn't calculus or disapproval but something raw and unguarded.
The papers fluttered to the floor like surrender. Taehyung's textbook landed with a thud, pages splayed open to a problem neither of them would solve today. Jungkook barely noticed. His mouth found the curve of Taehyung's jaw, the spot where his pulse jumped under damp skin, and Taehyung's breath hitched—not a sigh, not a protest, but something jagged and wanting. His hands slid down to grip Jungkook's shoulders, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise, like he was afraid one of them might vanish if he didn't hold on.
"Months," Taehyung muttered against his temple, voice rough, almost accusing. "You've been—*god*—watching me like that for months." His knee nudged between Jungkook's thighs, insistent, and Jungkook groaned, biting down on Taehyung's collarbone just to feel him jolt. The sound Taehyung made was filthy, unrehearsed, nothing like his usual measured tones. It unraveled something in Jungkook's chest, hot and desperate.
He'd imagined this—of course he had—but not like *this*, not with Taehyung's fingers digging into his back, his breath uneven against Jungkook's neck, his hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate grind that made Jungkook's thoughts short-circuit. The Taehyung in his head had always been distant, untouchable, but this one—*this one*—was biting his lip raw, his pupils blown wide, his body arching into every touch like he'd been waiting just as long.
Taehyung exhaled sharply—a sound like a wire snapping—and yanked Jungkook in by the waist, their mouths crashing together in a kiss that tasted like cedar and the metallic tang of Jungkook's bitten lip. It wasn't graceful. Teeth clicked, noses bumped, and Taehyung's fingers dug into Jungkook's hips hard enough to leave crescent-moon indents through his shirt. Jungkook gasped against his mouth, and Taehyung took advantage, licking inside with a desperation that made Jungkook's knees buckle. He'd imagined this a hundred times, but fantasy had nothing on the reality of Taehyung's tongue hot against his, the way his breath stuttered when Jungkook bit down on his lower lip.
The table groaned under their combined weight as Taehyung dragged him closer, one hand fisting in Jungkook's hair to tilt his head back, exposing his throat. Taehyung's mouth was relentless—sucking a bruise just below his jaw, nipping at his pulse point like he wanted to mark him permanently. Jungkook arched into it, his fingers scrambling at Taehyung's sweater, pulling it up until his palms met bare skin. Taehyung shuddered, his hips jerking forward, and Jungkook choked out a laugh that dissolved into a moan when Taehyung ground against him.
"You're *impossible*," Taehyung muttered against his throat, his voice wrecked, nothing like the cool, detached tutor who'd spent months pretending indifference. His breath hitched when Jungkook slid a hand lower, fingertips skimming the waistband of his pants. "Months of—*fuck*—watching you doodle my face instead of solving equations—"
Jungkook laughed, breathless, and kissed him again, swallowing Taehyung's next words. He'd spent so long memorizing the shape of Taehyung's frown that the feel of his smile—sharp and fleeting against his mouth—was almost surreal. Taehyung's hands were everywhere, mapping his shoulders, his ribs, his waist, like he was trying to rewrite every lingering glance and stifled sigh into something tangible.
The papers hadn't even finished settling when Taehyung twisted him around, the movement sharp and practiced—like he'd been imagining this exact moment for just as long as Jungkook had been sketching his profile in the margins of failed calculus attempts. Three quick, stinging swats landed in rapid succession, each one hotter than the last, and Jungkook barely choked back a startled noise before Taehyung's mouth replaced his palm, teeth sinking into the tender junction where thigh met ass.
Jungkook's knees nearly gave out. He caught himself on the edge of the table, fingers scrabbling against wood grain, and Taehyung *laughed*—a rough, breathless sound that curled low in Jungkook's stomach. The heat of his mouth lingered even after he pulled away, replaced by the slow drag of his thumb over the same spot, pressing just shy of painful. "You—" Jungkook started, voice cracking, but Taehyung cut him off with a sharp nip to his hipbone, tongue soothing the sting immediately.
The textbook was definitely ruined now, pages splayed somewhere near their feet like an afterthought. Taehyung's hands spanned Jungkook's waist, holding him steady as he mouthed along the curve of his spine, each kiss punctuated by the faint scrape of teeth. Jungkook shivered when Taehyung's fingers hooked in the waistband of his jeans, tugging just hard enough to make his breath catch.
The third swat landed harder than the others—deliberate, calculated—and Jungkook hissed, arching into the contact before he could stop himself. Taehyung hummed against his skin, the vibration sending another shiver down Jungkook's spine. "You *like* that," Taehyung murmured, not quite a question, his lips brushing the flushed skin as he spoke. Jungkook could only nod, forehead pressed against the table, fingers curling against the wood. Taehyung's chuckle was dark, pleased, and then his teeth were sinking into the tender flesh just below Jungkook's hip, sharp enough to make him jolt.
The noise that escaped Jungkook's throat was embarrassingly raw, but Taehyung didn't seem to mind—if anything, he seemed to revel in it, his grip tightening as he soothed the bite with his tongue, slow and deliberate. Jungkook's knees trembled, his entire body alight with the contrast of sting and heat, the way Taehyung alternated between punishment and reward like he'd been cataloging every one of Jungkook's reactions for months. Maybe he had.
Taehyung's hands slid up under Jungkook's shirt, palms skimming the dip of his waist, the ridge of his ribs, before pushing the fabric up further. Cool air hit Jungkook's overheated skin, but it was fleeting—Taehyung's mouth followed almost immediately, pressing open-mouthed kisses along his shoulder blades, his teeth catching occasionally just to hear Jungkook gasp. "You drew me like this," Taehyung muttered against his skin, voice rough, fingers tracing the lines of Jungkook's back as if he could see the sketches imprinted there. "But you never got the details right."
Jungkook's knees buckled instantly, his fingers scrabbling for purchase on the table's edge as Taehyung spread him open with both hands—broad palms pressing into the backs of his thighs, thumbs digging into the soft flesh just below his cheeks. The noise that tore from Jungkook's throat was half-strangled, caught somewhere between a gasp and a whimper, as Taehyung exhaled hot against his exposed skin, the puff of air raising goosebumps before his tongue dragged upward in one filthy, unbroken stroke from taint to tailbone.
The sensation was electric—wet, searing, *too much*—and Jungkook's hips jerked forward involuntarily, his forehead knocking against the table with a dull thud. Taehyung didn't give him time to recover. His tongue circled the tight furl of Jungkook's hole, teasing, before flattening against it again, licking broad and relentless like he was mapping the taste of him. Jungkook's thighs trembled, his breath coming in ragged pants, fingers clawing at the wood grain as Taehyung's nose nudged against his perineum, lips sealing around the sensitive skin to suck lightly.
"You're—*fuck*—" Jungkook choked out, but the rest of the sentence dissolved into a moan when Taehyung's tongue pressed inside, just barely, the tip breaching him with slow, deliberate pressure. Taehyung's hands tightened on his thighs, holding him open wider, and Jungkook could feel the dampness of his own spit cooling on his skin, the heat of Taehyung's breath as he paused—just to feel Jungkook clench around nothing—before diving back in.
This time, Taehyung didn't tease. His tongue speared deeper, fucking into him in short, rough thrusts that had Jungkook's toes curling against the floor, his cock dripping untouched against his stomach. The sounds were obscene—wet, slick, the occasional muffled grunt from Taehyung as he worked Jungkook open with his mouth alone—and Jungkook's vision blurred at the edges, his body alight with the kind of pleasure that bordered on pain. He could feel Taehyung's stubble scratching the sensitive skin of his inner thighs, the occasional scrape of teeth that made him jerk and gasp, but Taehyung never let up, his grip ironclad.
"Harder—*please*—" Jungkook gasped, fingers clawing at the table's edge as Taehyung's tongue worked him open with slow, maddening precision. The wet heat was unbearable, the teasing laps just shy of enough, and Jungkook arched back with a whine, pressing himself shamelessly against Taehyung's mouth. "You're—*fuck*—you're not even *trying*—"
Taehyung pulled away with a sharp exhale, his breath ghosting over Jungkook's slick skin. For a heartbeat, there was only silence—then a hand fisted in Jungkook's hair, yanking his head back until their eyes met. Taehyung's pupils were blown black, his lips glistening, and the smirk that curled across his mouth was nothing like the cold tutor who'd spent months correcting his calculus. "You want it rough?" he murmured, thumb dragging over Jungkook's bitten lower lip. "Prove it."
The shove came without warning. Jungkook's chest hit the table, his cheek smacking against the open textbook—*Problem 34: Limits and Derivatives*, the ink blurring as his breath fogged the page. Taehyung's knee forced his legs wider, the denim rough against his inner thighs, and then—*oh god*—a palm cracked down against his ass, sharp enough to make him yelp. The sting bloomed hot, immediate, and Taehyung leaned over him, lips brushing the shell of Jungkook's ear. "Show me how bad you really are," he whispered, voice dripping with mock disappointment. "Since you clearly can't focus on anything else."
Jungkook barely had time to suck in a breath before Taehyung's fingers dug into his hips, yanking him back onto the hard line of his cock. The friction was brutal, denim scraping against oversensitive skin, and Jungkook's moan cracked into a sob as Taehyung ground against him, relentless. "This what you wanted?" Taehyung bit out, one hand sliding around to squeeze Jungkook's throat, not quite cutting off air but close enough to make his vision swim. "All those months staring, *drawing* me—you think I didn't notice?"
Taehyung didn't warn him. One moment Jungkook was gasping against the textbook, his fingers scrabbling at the pages, and the next—*pain*. White-hot, splitting, *too much*. Taehyung's fingers dug into his hips hard enough to bruise, holding him still as he pushed in dry, the stretch brutal and unforgiving. Jungkook's breath punched out of him in a ragged sob, his knees buckling, but Taehyung didn't stop, didn't slow—just buried himself to the hilt with a groan that sounded like it'd been ripped from his chest.
Jungkook's vision whited out. The pain was *everywhere*, a searing line of fire where their bodies joined, and for a heartbeat he thought he might pass out. But then Taehyung's mouth was at his ear, his teeth sharp against the lobe, his voice rough and wrecked. "Breathe," he demanded, and Jungkook did, sucking in air like he'd been drowning. His fingers curled into the textbook, tearing the page where *Problem 34* blurred under his cheek.
Taehyung didn't give him time to adjust. He pulled out almost completely—just enough to make Jungkook whimper at the loss—then slammed back in, harder this time, his hips snapping forward like he couldn't stop himself. Jungkook cried out, his back arching, but Taehyung caught him by the throat, pressing him down against the table. "You *wanted* this," Taehyung growled, his breath hot against Jungkook's neck. "Months of looking at me like that—you think I wouldn't *take* what's mine?"
The words sent a shiver down Jungkook's spine, mingling with the pain still radiating through him. Taehyung's pace was relentless, each thrust sharp enough to knock the breath from Jungkook's lungs, but already—*already*—the pain was twisting into something else, something molten and desperate. Jungkook's cock ached where it rubbed against the textbook, smearing precome across *Limits and Derivatives*, and when Taehyung's hand slid down to wrap around him, the dual sensation was almost too much.
Jungkook's fingers tore through the textbook page entirely now, calculus symbols shredding under his nails as Taehyung's grip tightened around his throat just enough to make stars dance at the edges of his vision. The pain had crystallized into something brighter, sharper—a live wire sparking between his hips where Taehyung fucked into him with brutal precision, each thrust knocking a broken sound from Jungkook's lips.
"You're—*god*—you're *impossible*," Taehyung snarled against his shoulder blade, teeth scraping skin as his free hand stroked Jungkook in time with his thrusts, rough and uneven. The friction burned, but Jungkook arched into it anyway, his spine bowing when Taehyung's thumb swiped over his slit, smearing precome down his length. The textbook was ruined beyond repair, pages crumpled under Jungkook's cheek, but he couldn't bring himself to care—not when Taehyung's breath hitched behind him, his rhythm stuttering for the first time since he'd pushed in.
Jungkook felt it—the exact moment Taehyung's control frayed. His hips jerked forward erratically, his fingers digging bruises into Jungkook's thigh as he dragged him back onto his cock with a groan that sounded punched out of him. "Look at you," Taehyung muttered, voice wrecked, his lips brushing the knob of Jungkook's spine. "Taking it so *good*—like you were *made* for this—"
The words unraveled something in Jungkook's chest. He came with a sob, his orgasm ripped from him so violently his knees gave out entirely—but Taehyung held him up effortlessly, his arm banded around Jungkook's waist as he fucked him through it, relentless. The overstimulation bordered on painful, but Jungkook couldn't stop the way his body clenched around Taehyung, milking him desperately even as tears pricked at his lashes.
The textbook stuck to Jungkook’s cheek when Taehyung finally let him collapse forward, the pages damp with sweat and saliva. His entire body thrummed with oversensitivity, every nerve alight where Taehyung’s hands still gripped his hips—too tight, possessive, like he might vanish if Taehyung loosened his hold even slightly. Jungkook could feel the hot pulse of Taehyung’s release inside him, the way his breath hitched against Jungkook’s shoulder blades as he came down, his lips pressed to the nape of Jungkook’s neck in something almost like apology.
Neither of them moved for a long moment. The only sound was their ragged breathing and the slow drip of Jungkook’s spit onto the ruined calculus problems below. Then Taehyung’s fingers twitched, his thumb smoothing over the bruise he’d left on Jungkook’s hip—gentle now, almost hesitant. “You okay?” he murmured, voice roughened beyond recognition.
Jungkook laughed, shaky and breathless, his fingers uncurling from the torn textbook page. “Ask me again when I can feel my legs.”
Taehyung exhaled sharply—almost a laugh—and slumped against him, his forehead pressing between Jungkook’s shoulder blades. His breath was warm, his lips brushing the same spot he’d bitten raw minutes ago. “You’re *impossible*,” he muttered, but his arms slid around Jungkook’s waist, pulling him back against his chest like he couldn’t bear to let go.
The words slipped out before Jungkook could catch them—quiet, cracked open like the spine of Taehyung’s ruined textbook between them. "I think I love you." The silence that followed was thick enough to choke on. Taehyung's fingers stilled against Jungkook's hip where they'd been tracing idle circles, his breath hitching just once before he exhaled slowly, deliberately, like he was steadying himself for impact.
Jungkook braced for laughter, for the cold dismissal Taehyung had perfected over months of tutoring sessions. Instead, Taehyung's grip tightened almost painfully, his nose pressing into the sweat-damp hair at the nape of Jungkook's neck. "You *think*?" Taehyung's voice was rough, raw at the edges, and the incredulity in it made Jungkook's stomach flip. "After *that*—after *months*—you *think*?"
Jungkook's laugh caught in his throat, half-hysterical, half-breathless. His knees were still pressed into the table's edge, his palms flat against the ruined textbook, but Taehyung's arms around him—tight, possessive—were the only things keeping him upright. "You want me to say it again?" he rasped, tilting his head just enough to catch the flicker of something unguarded in Taehyung's expression. "Fine. I *love* you. Not just—not just the way you look when you're annoyed at my calculus, or the way your sleeves roll up when you're frustrated. All of it. Even the parts you think I haven't noticed."
"Fine. I *love* you. Not just—not just the way you look when you're annoyed at my calculus, or the way your sleeves roll up when you're frustrated. All of it. Even the parts you think I haven't noticed."
Taehyung's breath hitched. His fingers flexed against Jungkook's waist, thumb brushing the bruise he'd left earlier like he was mapping the shape of it. "You don't know what you're saying," he muttered, but his voice lacked its usual edge—it was frayed, uncertain, the way Jungkook had only ever heard it in the quiet moments between their bodies colliding.
Jungkook twisted in his grip, wincing as the movement pulled at oversensitive muscles, but he needed to *see* Taehyung's face. The textbook crinkled under his elbow as he turned, their noses brushing, Taehyung's lips still swollen from Jungkook's teeth. "I know exactly what I'm saying," Jungkook insisted, his voice steadier than he felt. "I've known since the third week you tutored me, when you got that crease between your eyebrows because I *still* didn't understand limits. You looked like you wanted to strangle me. I wanted you to."
Taehyung laughed—a short, disbelieving sound—but it caught in his throat when Jungkook leaned in, pressing their foreheads together harder. "Say it back," Jungkook whispered, his lips brushing Taehyung's with each word. He didn't demand it, didn't push—just waited, his heart pounding so loudly he was sure Taehyung could feel it where their chests pressed together.
For a heartbeat, Taehyung didn't move. Then his hands slid up Jungkook's sides, slow and deliberate, his fingers tracing the ridges of his ribs like he was committing them to memory. "I *hate* you," Taehyung murmured, but the words lacked any real bite, his voice softening at the edges. His lips curved into something almost like a smile—small, hesitant, *real*—before he kissed Jungkook again, slow and deep, his tongue sliding against Jungkook's with a quiet desperation that made Jungkook's knees weaken all over again.