Jimin and Namjoon /would/ have their wedding on New Year's Eve. Namjoon for introspective reasons. There was something he deeply appreciated about the symbolism, the clean-cut on the timeline of his existence marking the beginning of the rest of his...
so the thing is, what 'set me off' was a text from that same friend who (earlier) told me that exposition (as in, narrative and description) 'isn't all that important' in smut - she has since decided that she was so so wrong. but this chapter is just another attack to prove my point.
and because i have a thirst for sope that cannot be quenched.
and because i wanted yoongi to get the dicking down he's always deserved.
oh, and um, 🔞 🚨 👀
December 31, 2019 - they-gonna-fuck o'clock
Hoseok carried Yoongi to his hotel room never once separating their lips. He backed up to the door, the sensor detecting the key card in his jacket pocket, and dropped a hand to turn the doorknob. At the loss of support Yoongi only wrapped his legs tighter around the taller man's body.
Clinging to Hoseok like his life depended on it.
Because in the darkness that engulfed them within the hotel room, it did.
Yoongi kissed Hoseok like the oxygen in the dancer's lungs was the only air available. The only air he needed.
Because why even breathe if he couldn't kiss Hoseok?
And it was eerily as if Hoseok knew this, because he wouldn't let the rapper come up for air if he tried.
It was sensory deprivation in a way that Yoongi had never experienced, a sensory elevation in a way that Yoongi only wanted to experience from that point on: the adrenaline burning the alcohol in his veins, the fact that he could practically hear both of their hearts reverberating in their chests, the way they hadn't even said a word - needn't have said a word - to each other since the parking lot. Speaking only in bodies.
The fucking air was Hoseok. Falling into the bed - still unmade from the pre-wedding recharge and steeped in his scent.
Breathing Hoseok in and out was how Yoongi could quite happily live and die.
But, all too soon, they separated because, as much as either would have loved to deny it, they both needed to breathe at some point.
Hoseok raised himself above the rapper on the bed, meeting his gaze, asking a myriad of questions - all of which were silently answered, "fuck, yes," and "right fucking now," by Yoongi's hands shooting down to his own belt buckle, shedding his pants and throwing them haphazardly off the side of the bed. Stopping only when he became distracted by the dancer's hands running up his thighs so torturously slow.
Breathing him in again, the dancer now running through his veins and electrifying him from the inside out, outside in. Overwhelming his brain cells until they burst one by one, thousands of tiny fireworks lighting the path that would always lead back to Hoseok.
Hoseok's hands, capable of so much sweetness, held nothing back - made no pretense of easing back into anything.
They rushed, unknotting Yoongi's tie and tugged impatiently at the buttons of Yoongi's shirt and, as soon as one button popped off he figured, "fuck it," and ripped the rest open, drinking up the rapper's mixed expression of rage and arousal.
The rapper smirked and pushed him harshly, inverting their positions and straddling the dancer. Grinding against him in ways that only frustrated them both.
After tolerating the tease for only so long, Hoseok's hand shot up to Yoongi's neck, the rapper's mouth falling open in a silent gasp and body stilling. He knew better than to provoke right now.
But it wouldn't stop him.
Another smirk snuck onto his lips, his voice emerging low and raspy as their pulses mingled where Hoseok's fingers wrapped so deliciously around his neck:
"You gonna fuck me tonight, or what?"
[a/n]
i may have officially snapped
and yes, another cutoff. because i am busy doing work stuff.
and because i'm r00d.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
