—"I want you to stay right here with me."
≣
Any second.
Help and comfort and solace would be here any second now.
Jungkook's heart slammed against his ribcage as he paced behind his front door, too jittery and restless to stand still, wait patiently, and breathe easily. His apartment intercom had just buzzed, signaling that someone was here for him—that Taehyung was here for him. Only a quick elevator ride separated them from each other; mere moments stood between Jungkook and the relief he craved. The relief he intentionally denied himself for far too long.
Fuck, he had wasted so much time, so much of his sanity, trying to appear like he had his shit together and that the pressure wasn't getting to him. But he didn't have his shit together. The pressure was getting to him. There were cracks in his facade—deep and jagged and raw—that grew with each new deadline, with every additional set of unrealistic expectations and competing priorities. And it wouldn't take much more for those cracks to become irreparable. It wouldn't take much more for Jungkook to break completely.
And if it got to that point . . .
A shudder rippled down Jungkook's spine as he continued to pace back and forth. He didn't want to consider what would happen if he fell apart, if he was unable to pick up the pieces and fit them back into place. So the only solution was to avoid that outcome. Jungkook's only option was to ask for help.
So he did. He had. Rather than fear judgment, rather than dismiss the voice screaming in his head, begging for some sort of remedy, Jungkook had pushed his fear aside. He had listened to that voice.
And he had called Taehyung.
It was the scariest, bravest thing he could've done. And now . . .
Any second. Help and comfort and solace would be here any second.
Still pacing—Because what else was he supposed to do? Stare through the peephole and whip open the door as soon as he caught a glimpse of Taehyung? That wouldn't be creepy in the slightest—Jungkook felt a rivulet of water drip down his neck. Several rivulets. And it wasn't sweat; even if his heart was racing and his breathing was a bit shallow and his muscles were all wobbly, he wasn't that nervous about his hyung's arrival. Really. But he had just taken a lightning-fast shower, washing the stiff gel from his hair and the layer of stress-induced perspiration from his body. And in the midst of getting ready for Taehyung, slipping into soft clothes and eating a bowl of ramen, Jungkook had never thought to dry his sopping wet hair.
Right on cue, another drop rolled down his temple.
God, he probably looked so stupid right now. Did he have time to grab a towel? Or perhaps change into a new shirt since the water had turned parts of the white fabric see-through? Or maybe—?
Footsteps sounded from out in the hall, causing Jungkook to freeze midstep and forget about the current state of his hair. Holding his breath, he strained his ears for any additional sounds . . . and yup, those were definitely footsteps. And they were getting closer. Closer and closer and—
Three knocks sounded at the door, quick in succession and full of purpose.
Taehyung.
Well, Jungkook assumed it was Taehyung. Just to be sure, he quietly approached the door and looked through the peephole. And what he found? Dark, wind-tousled curls. Smooth skin the color of honey. Wide and concerned eyes. A pink tongue smoothing over a full bottom lip, leaving behind a slightly glossy sheen.
Taehyung.
Something fluttered low in Jungkook's stomach, all warm and nerve-wracking and intriguing, which always seemed to happen when he was near Taehyung. He still needed to analyze that, to understand why, but now was not the time. He'd do that later.
Probably.
Maybe.
But for now, he pushed a long and slow breath from his mouth, rolled back his shoulders, and opened the door before he could second guess any of it. And once the door was open, once that barrier between Jungkook and Taehyung was gone and their eyes met for the first time in a month, everything else faded away. Every doubt . . . each stressor . . . that ever-present anxiety . . . It all dissipated into nothingness.
And for the moment, the only thing that existed for Jungkook was Taehyung.
So he stared—fuck, Jungkook didn't know how long he stared. He was too distracted by his hyung: The way Taehyung's gaze, now darker, freely roamed all over Jungkook's face. The redness staining his cheeks, perhaps from a sunburn. How his lips parted, how his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat, how his hands fluttered at his sides like he wanted to reach out to touch and feel and comfort.
And seeing his hyung, being in Taehyung's presence, somehow knowing that everything was going to be okay now that he was here . . .
Jungkook didn't think. Not as he opened the door wider and asked, "Can you hold me?"
Taehyung's eyes snapped up, almost like he wasn't anticipating that. But a fraction of a second later, he took a step forward. Then another. And then another. And then he was in Jungkook's personal space, so close that their chests were almost colliding, so close that Jungkook could smell mint on his breath. They were so close, and yet Jungkook wanted to be closer. He needed to feel Taehyung's body, his warmth, against his own.
So he nodded his head, reassuring and consenting and granting full permission, as he said, "Hyung, I need—"
Those final millimeters between them disappeared as Taehyung pressed flush against Jungkook's body, his arms snaking around Jungkook's waist and pulling him closer, closer, tighter. There was no room for space or matter, no room for questions or uncertainty. There was just Taehyung's fingers gripping his back, Taehyung's knees bumping into his own, Taehyung's hair tickling his cheek. There was just . . . Taehyung.
Not even a millisecond later, Jungkook wrapped his arms up around Taehyung and buried his face into his neck, urging him closer, closer, tighter. He could feel all of Taehyung, his very essence—Taehyung's shoulders rising and falling as he breathed, his heart beating slightly erratically in his chest, his throat vibrating as he hummed low and deep. And Jungkook wanted—god, how he wanted—to just stay like this for as long as possible, for as long as Taehyung would allow. Because he was safe here; he was safe with his hyung.
Jungkook melted more against Taehyung, his muscles losing their rigidness the longer he was held. Fifteen seconds, thirty seconds, sixty, more . . . Jungkook had no concept of time at the moment; he had no idea how long he stood in Taehyung's arms. And for once, he wasn't worried about what he was doing or wasn't doing or was supposed to be doing. For once, Jungkook was perfectly content with things just the way they were. He didn't want to change a thing.
But apparently, Taehyung didn't get that memo. He started pulling back, his hands trailing over Jungkook's waist in a gentle caress before attempting to straighten. Though he didn't get too far. Jungkook locked himself tighter against Taehyung, nuzzling deeper into the crook of his neck and breathing in the distantly familiar scent of his cologne—god, he smelled so good.
A gentle laugh sounded from above him as hands settled on his hips. "Jungkook—"
"I'm not ready to let go," Jungkook let out, his voice slightly muffled by his hyung's skin. He clung on more firmly for emphasis.
"I'm not either," Taehyung said softly, another laugh warming his tone, "but we're kind of standing in the hallway. Can I come inside? I'll go right back to holding you. I promise."
At that, Jungkook opened his eyes—when had he closed them?—and realized that yup, that was, in fact, true. He probably could've remained hovering in the doorway for an hour without noticing, all thanks to the man in front of him. But because they were hugging in the hall where anyone could stop and stare, he reluctantly loosened his hold and drew back a few centimeters.
But he still didn't let go.
"Sorry," he said instead, lifting his head to look Taehyung directly in the eyes. "I kind of launched myself at you."
"You didn't. Actually," Taehyung mused, "I kind of launched myself at you. But in my defense, you did ask for it."
"I did," Jungkook agreed, the corners of his lips quirking up into a small smile. "I needed that."
"You needed me to launch myself at you?"
"No, I just . . ." Jungkook exhaled deeply. "I needed you. More than you know. More than I know, I think."
Taehyung blinked once, twice, like he was replaying those words in his head and letting their meaning sink in. His tongue darted out between his lips, sweeping over his lower lip in what Jungkook swore had to be a habit, before his mouth began stretching into a smile—a gorgeous, somewhat tentative smile full of awe and just a hint of shyness. And through that disarmingly and distractingly gorgeous smile, he said, "You continue to surprise me."
For some reason, that simple admission caused Jungkook's heart to flutter in his chest.
And he would have asked what was so surprising—his words or the fact that he voiced them aloud—but right as he opened his mouth, a series of loud and harsh pings began to ring out from inside his apartment. Over. And over. And over.
Work.
Suddenly it became very difficult to breathe. The hall was beginning to spin. And each one of Jungkook's muscles that had previously loosened thanks to Taehyung instantly tensed up again.
Jungkook tried to focus on Taehyung, to concentrate on the feel of his hyung's hands now trailing up and down his back in a soothing gesture. But all he heard was ping after fucking ping. All he could think of was everything he pushed aside today, all the deadlines he missed and all the people he pissed off. All he could feel was the tingling in his fingers, the lump in his throat, and the tightness in his chest.
"I'm sorry," he murmured, reluctantly stepping out of Taehyung's hold and nearly stumbling back into his apartment. Every step he took was heavy and uncoordinated, a clear enough sign that he didn't want to look at his phone or computer or whatever the hell was pinging and ringing and bringing Jungkook right back to his breaking point.
But what choice did he have?
Moments later, Jungkook sunk down onto his couch and logged into his laptop. The number of emails and messages was worse than he'd been expecting; the amount of catching up he'd need to do would be absolutely crushing. And while he couldn't start right this instant—so in an hour, perhaps—maybe it would be a good idea to send a message or two, to let his team know that he'd take care of everything by tomorrow. Yeah, okay. That he could do.
Jungkook opened the chat with his boss, his fingers flying over the keyboard, as the couch dipped beside him and a warm and sturdy thigh pressed against his own. He sent one message, two, three, as a steady hand settled over his knee. And just as he started detailing a massive to-do list for the morning, something he could preemptively send to his main stakeholders, graceful fingers took hold of his chin and began carefully turning his head.
"Hey," Taehyung said, that one word steeped in so much tenderness and care that his voice came out a bit gravelly. "Look at me."
Jungkook hesitated, his eyes still fixated on his overly bright computer screen. If he could just get this list out, he could—
"Look at me," his hyung repeated in a whisper, his tone somehow firm yet undemanding at the same time.
And because of that, Jungkook had no choice but to meet Taehyung's gaze and focus his full attention on him; he had no choice at all. So he did as asked and looked at the one man who promised help and comfort and solace, breathing out, "I'm looking at you."
"Good. Now," Taehyung started, sweeping his thumb across Jungkook's chin, "will someone die if you don't respond to them?"
Jungkook's eyebrows furrowed together. "What? I don't—"
"Will someone cry out, keel over, and wither up if you wait until tomorrow to reply?" His hyung interrupted, the corner of his mouth lifting as if his word choice amused him.
And yeah, those words were funny—in a dark sort of way—and they painted a rather comical picture in Jungkook's head, but . . . "Hyung, it's not that simple."
"It is, actually. So . . . Yes or no?"
A heavy sigh pushed out from Jungkook's lips as he admitted, "No."
"No. Those people can wait," Taehyung affirmed, his fingers lightly squeezing Jungkook's chin before falling back to his lap. After lingering on Jungkook's face for one count . . . two . . . three, his eyes darted to the computer screen. "Do you have everything you need saved?"
"Yeah."
"Do you trust me?"
It was silent for a moment, the only noise coming from the whirring fan of Jungkook's computer—it was overworked, too. But Jungkook didn't need to think too hard about his answer to that question because he did trust Taehyung. Even though they'd only had a handful of meetings and interactions, even though they had so much more to learn about each other, Jungkook felt secure when he was with Taehyung. He felt like he finally had someone to lean on, literally, figuratively, all of it.
So it was all too easy to say, "I do. I trust you, hyung."
Taehyung hummed deep in his throat, the noise sounding . . . pleased. "Keep your eyes on me, okay?"
Jungkook dipped his chin, perfectly content with following the other man's direction. And so he stared back at Taehyung, taking in his full mouth and strong eyebrows and randomly placed freckles, not bothering to question himself when the word beautiful flitted through his mind. Because it was true. Taehyung was beautiful. Jungkook had thought that the very first night they met, and now—knowing his hyung just a little bit more—he was fairly certain that Kim Taehyung was the most beautiful person he'd seen in his entire life.
Out of his peripheral, he could see his hyung reaching out for his computer, but he didn't turn to look. He had a pretty good idea of what Taehyung was doing anyway. And sure enough, not even a second later, the noise from the computer fan quieted completely.
"It's off," Taehyung commented in a low voice, a muted click punctuating his words—he must have closed the laptop entirely. "Do you get work messages on your phone, too?"
Jungkook nodded.
"Can you put those notifications on silent?"
Another nod.
"Good. Do that for me, alright?" Taehyung half-asked, half-ordered. He stood from the couch with the laptop clutched in one hand, explaining, "I'm going to put this in the kitchen, that way a certain someone isn't tempted to turn it back on halfway through our session."
"I'll still be tempted."
"Maybe, but I'll be holding you," Taehyung countered, the corners of his lips rising. He turned toward the kitchen before Jungkook got the chance to see his full, gorgeous smile.
"Are you saying you'll hold me down?" Jungkook called out, his mind effortlessly picturing Taehyung wrapped around him and refusing to let go. His ears grew hot for some inexplicable reason, and he felt the need to say, "I go to the gym, you know."
"Oh, trust me, I know," Taehyung said, pausing his trip to the kitchen so he could throw a wry smirk back at Jungkook. "And yeah, I might not have muscles like you, but I'm stronger than I look."
"So you are saying you'll hold me down."
"No," came Taehyung's quick response. There was a dark and unreadable gleam in his eyes as he added, "I'm saying that I'll be holding you. And I'll make you feel so good you don't want to get up."
Jungkook sucked in a tiny breath of air, unable to do anything but stare as Taehyung retreated to the kitchen. A small part of him—the competitive part—wanted to rise to his hyung's challenge, to claim that Taehyung's strength or other charms wouldn't be a match for him. But that would be a lie. Because he knew that as soon as Taehyung put his arms around him . . . Jungkook ran a hand over his face. Yeah, as soon as Taehyung held him again, nothing in the world would make Jungkook get up.
Not willingly, at least. Not tonight.
So Jungkook quickly silenced the notifications on his messenger app, only reading one message—okay, two—before tossing his phone on the coffee table and leaning back against the couch. But as the seconds ticked by, his fingers started to twitch. His leg began to bounce. And each thought in his head turned toward his job, wondering how many notifications were pouring in and who might be pinging him now and what deadlines he'd—
Nope.
Nope, nope, nope.
Jungkook sprung to his feet in an instant, hastily grabbing his phone as he headed for the kitchen. He couldn't keep thinking of work. He couldn't continue stressing about things outside of his control and allowing his mind to run rampant with anxiety. He needed to take control of his life again. He needed to prioritize his needs and his well-being for once. He needed Taehyung to fucking hold him, damn it.
So when he reached the kitchen, when he found his hyung leaning against the counter and tapping away on a phone, Jungkook marched right up to him, rolled back his shoulders, and said, "That whole thing you said about holding me so good that I wouldn't want to get up? Yeah. I kind of need you to do that now."
Taehyung glanced up at him with raised eyebrows. "Is this how you act in meetings? All confident and bold like this?"
Despite Jungkook's recently overwhelmed nature, he was actually able to pull himself together when it mattered the most. "Does that shock you?"
"Honestly?" Taehyung shook his head. "No. You were like that at the bar. You know, when we first met."
"Wait, you thought I was confident and bold that night?" Jungkook asked, cocking his head to the side. He remembered it a bit differently. He recalled being an embarrassing and flustered mess.
"Well, it takes a rather confident and bold person to check out someone's ass—sorry, get caught checking out someone's ass—and then outright lie about it."
"Hyung," Jungkook protested, his cheeks flaming with heat. He resisted the urge to bury his head in his hands. "You promised to forget about that."
Taehyung let out a giggle, the sound so light and pure that Jungkook wouldn't mind being teased all night if it meant he could hear it again.
That was normal.
Right?
"Uh, no," his hyung replied, "I said I'd drop it."
Jungkook scoffed. Somehow—call him crazy—he had a feeling that Taehyung would never let go of how they met. And while that might have bothered him in the past, he kind of liked having their own inside joke. Even if it was at his expense.
"I said I would drop it," Taehyung repeated with a dangerous grin, "but I could never, ever forget it. I mean, come on. The suited-up man with the big doe eyes running up and down and up—"
"You know, I'd shove you out the door if I didn't want you to hold me so badly."
"And then you do that." Taehyung was beaming ear to ear now, the phone in his hand completely forgotten. "You shift between cuddle bun and finance guy so fast it gives me whiplash. And god, I can't decide which version I like better."
"Which version will get you to hold me?" Seriously, Jungkook would be anything his hyung wanted—cuddle bun, finance guy, or some other annoying but endearing nickname that was yet to be given.
Taehyung set his own phone down before running his tongue over his lip. "Oh, do you want me to hold you or something? You should have said so earlier."
"Silly me. Do you need me to ask again?"
"It wouldn't hurt."
Jungkook had to bite his lip to avoid smiling like a madman. There was something about Taehyung that lowered each one of his defenses, that wiggled past the iron barriers of his mind and got him to focus on the present moment. It was like magic—Taehyung was like magic. Just being in his presence made Jungkook feel like everything was going to be okay, like the world wasn't on the verge of crumbling down around him. Taehyung soothed Jungkook like nothing else could, and hell, he wasn't even touching him.
But since Jungkook had this overpowering need for Taehyung to touch him, he inched forward and murmured, "Will you hold me now, hyung? I need you."
It was like Taehyung's whole demeanor, his entire body, melted. His smile liquefied, falling closed until there was just a breath of space between his lips. The devious twinkle behind his eyes transformed into something softer, fonder. And his voice, which had been airy with amusement two moments before, fell into a deeper, silkier tone as he coaxed Jungkook closer and said, "Come here then."
Nothing else needed to be said. Jungkook eliminated the remaining space between them, circling his arms around Taehyung's waist and tucking his chin over his shoulder. A guttural sound of relief rumbled in his throat as Taehyung finally, finally, held him again, one hand settling on the nape of his neck and the other cradling the back of his head. They were chest to chest, cheek to cheek, heartbeat to heartbeat. All was quiet save for their gentle breathing.
This was bliss, this was peace, this was everything Jungkook never knew he needed. And he didn't want to let go of this feeling; he didn't want to let go of the person he became within Taehyung's arms—comfortable, at ease, relaxed. After so fucking long, it was like Jungkook emerged from the haze of presentations and projects and competition and was finally himself again.
And it was all because of Taehyung. Jungkook didn't know why, he didn't understand how, but he knew everything he accomplished in the last few minutes alone was because of the man holding him.
And he didn't want to let go.
Long, graceful fingers plunged deep into Jungkook's hair, slightly scratching his scalp and massaging at the root. And maybe he was just hypersensitive at this point, but a shiver that brought nothing but pleasure raced down his spine and caused each one of his nerve endings to tingle and thrum with a restless sort of energy—a very alive and very aware sort of energy. And that energy found an outlet when a gentle tug of his hair caused him to bury another throaty sound into the side of Taehyung's neck.
God, it felt like Jungkook was an intricately wound instrument that only Taehyung knew how to play.
"Your hair is wet," his hyung said, his fingers continuing to tangle with the damp strands. "Do you want me to get a towel? I could dry it for you."
Jungkook shook his head. "I want you to stay right here with me."
A soft chuckle tumbled into his ear. "I'm proud of you, you know. For saying what you want. Asking for what you want."
"It's not easy."
"I know. But the important thing is that you're trying."
That acknowledgment made Jungkook wrap his arms just a bit more securely around Taehyung's waist, which was both lean and sinewy at the same time. To think he could have had all this a few weeks ago . . . "I should've called you sooner."
"You had to be ready," Taehyung said, his fingers twisting tighter in Jungkook's hair. "You had to really want this."
"I am ready," Jungkook breathed. "I do want this."
"I'm glad. And I think—"
A whimsical sort of noise sounded from the counter, interrupting whatever Taehyung was about to say. It was bright and cheery, unlike the harrowing and harsh ping Jungkook was so used to. It had to be his hyung's phone.
Also unlike Jungkook, Taehyung didn't immediately drop everything to frantically look at the notification. No, he remained right where he was and said, "That'll be the cuddling app."
"Cuddling app?"
"Yeah. It's a safety feature we use whenever we meet clients outside the Sanctuary. We log the session details, like our client's name and meeting location, before things start and then use a built-in timer once we're ready to begin," Taehyung explained. "And every so often, it prompts us to check in to ensure everything is going alright. If we don't respond within a few minutes, the app automatically alerts Hobi and the police."
Jungkook was grateful that the Sanctuary's owner seemed so committed to Taehyung's safety—ah, the cuddlers' safety. He allowed his hands to tentatively smooth over Taehyung's lower back as he asked, "Does it feel weird going into people's homes?"
"Surprisingly, not really. I mean, I don't just go into anyone's home. I only offer that as an option if I feel comfortable enough and safe with my client."
"And you do with me?"
Taehyung's hands drifted down Jungkook's neck, settling on his shoulders as he pulled back to look at him directly. "I do. And honestly? I felt that way the moment I met you."
Words failed Jungkook at that moment—his heart skipped a beat or palpitated or something. But he did manage to splutter out a very elegant, "Yeah. Same."
"Even if you were drooling over my ass."
"Hyung."
Another musical notification chimed, so Taehyung partially let go of Jungkook and picked up his phone. He tapped away for a couple of seconds before saying, "There, all set for now."
Jungkook caught a glimpse of a countdown—fifty-one minutes and three seconds, two seconds, one. "Is that what you were doing when I walked in here? Starting the timer?"
"You mean when you demanded that I hold you? Yes," Taehyung said, his mouth spreading into a contented smile that lit up his eyes. "But try not to think about the time, okay? Just focus on being present with me."
"You make it easy to do that," Jungkook admitted.
"Good. Now," Taehyung slipped his phone into his pocket, "when you called me earlier, did you envision us standing in your kitchen for the entire session?"
Jungkook spoke without thinking. "I kind of pictured us in my bed, to be honest."
Taehyung blinked, his eyes transforming from soft and warm to sparkling and suggestive. "I have so many responses to that, but none of them are appropriate."
A trail of heat started to crawl up Jungkook's cheeks. "I mean— That's not what I meant. I didn't picture anything. I just . . . My bed is big, so we'd have enough room to—"
"Maybe we start with the couch?" Taehyung suggested as his fingertips glided over Jungkook's shoulders, the touches so light they were ticklish.
"Yeah. Yup. The couch is good."
"Great. Has anything changed since last time? Boundaries? Likes or dislikes?"
"No, nothing's changed," Jungkook replied. "How about you? Your stomach is still a no-go, right?"
That, of all things, caused Taehyung to go completely silent for a moment. Still. But then his hand was trailing down down down, past Jungkook's bicep and around his elbow and over his forearm. His path was purposeful, his destination clear. And sure enough, he came to a stop on top of Jungkook's hand, gently nudging in a silent question—this was Jungkook's choice, always his choice.
So Jungkook answered immediately, threading their fingers together and holding on with a sure grip. He didn't want to let go.
After another second or two of silence, Taehyung let out a soft exhale and said, "You surprised me again."
"I did? How?"
"People don't usually ask about me."
"But . . ." Jungkook's eyebrows pushed together, "I want to know about your preferences just as much as you want to know about mine. I want to make you feel good, too."
Taehyung's thumb swept over Jungkook's skin, lightly, perhaps a bit reverently. "These sessions aren't about me, though."
"But you still matter."
That statement had the same response as moments before—silence and stillness—but just as Jungkook was about to dig deeper, to ask why his words were so startling, Taehyung shook his head and began leading them back to the couch.
"No new boundaries for me, either," his hyung finally answered, tugging on their joined hands.
"And your stomach is still a no-touch zone?" Jungkook asked again, needing to be sure.
"For now."
For now. The mere thought of touching Taehyung's stomach, however far into the future, had Jungkook's own stomach pooling with warmth. He had to shake his head to clear the image that came to mind.
Once they were back in the living room, Taehyung hovered in front of the couch and pushed his lips into a pout. "Do you want me to guide us? Or do you want—"
"I want you to lead," Jungkook replied, not needing to think too hard on that one. For good measure, he decided to add, "I trust you. Fully."
Taehyung hummed in a happy acknowledgment before loosening his grip, his fingers unwrapping from Jungkook's hand. But when he went to pull away, Jungkook clung on more firmly.
His hyung looked back at him, his eyebrows raised high on his forehead. "Can you let go of my hand?"
That was an easy question to answer. "Nope."
"Nope? What happened to you trusting me?"
"I gave you that trust thinking you'd still be holding my hand."
"Well, what if I told you I had something even better in mind?"
Taehyung kept his eyes on Jungkook as he gently tugged free from his hold, pulling back and then sinking down into the far side couch. He propped a pillow against the armrest, fluffing it a couple of times before swinging his legs up onto the cushions. He stretched out fully, his body running the length of the couch and leaving absolutely no room for Jungkook.
He looked so cozy. So . . . inviting.
"What if I told you that I'll really hold you? All of you," Taehyung said, melting deeper into the couch as he parted his legs.
"All of me?" Jungkook murmured, speaking more to himself than his hyung. He was too focused on the scene before him, too caught up with wondering why the hell Taehyung was parting his legs like that.
It took him a few moments to realize he was staring somewhere he really shouldn't be staring.
Taehyung showed no signs of noticing—thank god—though his voice did seem an octave lower as he affirmed, "All of you. But only if you want."
Jungkook wanted. He abso-fucking-loutely wanted to be held by Taehyung in his entirety, to have his hyung's body aligned with every part of his own. Each one of his bones urged him to step forward, accept comfort like he'd never known comfort before, and let go of everything else he held onto—even if it was just for a little while.
So he edged even closer to the couch, looked down at his hyung, and said—ordered, pleaded—, "Guide me."
With a hum, Taehyung bent his knees and let his legs fall open even wider, jutting his chin toward the space between his thighs. "Sit here first."
"Between your legs?" Something hot licked at Jungkook's insides.
"Yeah. I'll get you in the right position from there."
Somehow that triggered blurry images from The Cuddle Sutra to flash through Jungkook's mind—was this position in that thing? He'd have to ask. Eventually. But for now, he was a little preoccupied with lowering to the couch, turning away from his hyung, and beginning to scoot back between his hyung's spread legs.
"Closer," Taehyung directed. "Lean your back against my chest."
"Guide me," Jungkook repeated, needing to know exactly how close. Because fuck, he was conscious of every centimeter between his body and Taehyung's; he was ultra-aware of the lack of space between their torsos, their legs, their pelvises. So to be closer . . .
Gentle hands found their way to Jungkook's hips, tugging once, twice. "Closer."
So Jungkook followed those hands, slowly sliding back more . . . and more . . . and more . . . until he had nowhere else to go. And he wasn't just between his hyung's legs now—he was between his thighs. But before Jungkook could analyze his thoughts and feelings on that, Taehyung started moving, completely circling his arms around Jungkook's waist and pressing his chest flush against his back.
"Lie down with me," was Taehyung's next order, spoken directly into Jungkook's ear. His muscles tensed—his quads, his abs, his biceps; Jungkook could feel them all—as he began to recline, pulling them both backward and down.
So Jungkook let himself lean fully against Taehyung; he let his hyung support him and his body weight without questioning if this was good, if this was right, if this was too much. Because once he tucked his head alongside Taehyung's and wiggled even deeper into his arms . . . It was game over. Every last ounce of tension drained from his body until he was light, loose, and relaxed.
"How does this feel?" His hyung asked after a few comfortable moments of silence, adjusting his hands so they folded on top of Jungkook's stomach. "Is this okay?"
"It feels like you're holding all of me," Jungkook replied, exhaling deeply as his eyes fell shut. He was so warm, so . . . secure. "I like this. Hell, I could probably fall asleep like this."
"You can, if you want," Taehyung said, resting his cheek against Jungkook's head. "A lot of people drift off when cuddling. And actually, some clients schedule sessions purely for sleep."
"They book an hour with you so they can nap?"
"They book around ten hours with me so they can sleep throughout the night."
That got Jungkook's full attention. "You do overnight sessions?"
Taehyung nodded, his chin bumping against Jungkook's head. "Not too often, but sometimes. I have to build a pretty strong relationship with my client before spending an entire night with them. That requires an incredible amount of trust, so I don't offer that option to just anyone."
"Good."
"Good?"
Jungkook swallowed—he hadn't meant to say that aloud. "I just meant . . . It sounds risky, that's all. It's good that you don't do that with everyone."
"Ah, this is about my safety," Taehyung said, something playful yet somewhat disbelieving coloring his tone. "Not because you're possessive or anything."
"I'm not possessive," Jungkook argued, his nose slightly crinkling. "But you are my cuddler. I need you around so you can, well, you know, cuddle me."
"Cuddle bun has a protective, slightly possessive side. Noted."
"Not possessive."
Instead of teasing him further and continuing their silly banter, Taehyung simply chuckled and let the topic drop. He became quiet, perhaps lost to his thoughts, as his thumbs absentmindedly glided over Jungkook's clothed stomach, drawing random shapes and exerting just enough pressure that Jungkook could feel him.
And oh, Jungkook could feel him alright.
He could feel Taehyung's heart drumming against his back, the rhythm steady and strong. He could feel his soft breathing fall against his cheek, his chest expanding then collapsing with each inhale and exhale. He could feel the warmth from his arms, the heat from his thighs.
This was all so personal, so . . . intimate, but with Taehyung, it was easy. It was all so fucking easy.
Jungkook eyed his hyung's hands, marveling at how his elegant fingers swept over his stomach. He felt vulnerable, both physically and emotionally, but in a good way—in a way that urged him to open up, to talk, to share.
So Jungkook broke their silence and said, his voice mellow with a newfound serenity, "That feels nice."
A soft, short noise sounded from Taehyung. "What? My hands?"
Jungkook hummed his assent. "I like when you touch me. How you touch me."
"Cuddling is pretty great, huh?"
It was, but Jungkook didn't think he could achieve this state of tranquility by cuddling with just anyone. And because he was so calm, so at ease, he let out, "Cuddling with you is pretty great."
"Yeah? Really?"
That had to be a rhetorical question seeing as Jungkook was practically purring in Taehyung's arms, but he still answered, saying, "Really. You make me feel like everything's going to be okay. That maybe . . . I don't know. Maybe I'll be okay, too."
That admission, while innocent, shifted the peaceful atmosphere into something a little more serious. Something more sobering. Something that caused Taehyung's hands to tighten on Jungkook's body and hold him just a bit closer.
"Do you want to talk about it?"
That was the same question Taehyung had asked an hour or so earlier, back when Jungkook had called him in desperate need of someone to hold him, ground him, touch him. That conversation, that suffocating panic and anxiety, felt lightyears away from where Jungkook was right now. Because now, he could breathe without his lungs constricting. Now, he could think without his thoughts spiraling. Now, he could fully embrace that help was here, with him, and that he didn't have to navigate his fears alone.
Because he wasn't alone. He was in Taehyung's arms, cradled by his body, and was safe.
So Jungkook rested his hands on top of Taehyung's, knitted their fingers together until they were perfectly connected, and he told him—all of it. Jungkook opened up about how tired he had been, how stressed. He talked about his constant need to prove himself, even if it cost him his mental well-being and sanity. He shared the idiotic mistake he'd made, how he had spent the entire day working to correct it but still feared it was too late.
And the entire time Jungkook spoke, Taehyung listened. He never once interrupted. He didn't barge in with questions or provide unneeded commentary. He simply held Jungkook, cuddled him, and acted as the anchor that kept Jungkook from drifting off into the unsettled sea, the tumultuous storm of his mind.
It was only when Jungkook finished, when he fell quiet after speaking for minutes and minutes on end, that Taehyung finally said something. "I'm proud of you, Jungkook. So proud."
Jungkook frowned. "For making a mistake that could cost me my job? For ruining my reputation?"
Taehyung played with Jungkook's fingers, tangling and caressing before entwining them once more. "You were so brave just now, opening up like that. I'm sure it wasn't easy to share all of that."
"It was fucking terrifying, to be honest," Jungkook said, managing to laugh under his breath. "I don't usually talk about this stuff with anyone."
"Not with your friends or family?"
Jungkook thought of Jin, who was literally perfect at his job, and his parents, who bragged to all their friends that their son was an investment banker. "No. They wouldn't get it."
Rather than challenge that belief, rather than ask if Jungkook was absolutely sure his friends and family wouldn't understand, Taehyung said, "I can't help but feel honored, then. Thank you for trusting me."
"I told you that I did."
"Yeah, I know, but . . . It means a lot to me." Taehyung's voice grew deeper and raspier at the end, so he cleared his throat before continuing, "And I'm not a real therapist or anything—obviously—but if you want, I can tell you what I think about everything. But that's up to you. If you want me to shut the fuck up and keep my thoughts to myself, that works, too."
"I don't want you to shut up, hyung," Jungkook responded, a small smile tugging at his lips. He appreciated that Taehyung didn't coddle him or treat him like something delicate, breakable. No, even after Jungkook shared a glimpse of who he was behind his mask, Taehyung still treated him the same. "Tell me what you think."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Alright. Well . . . I don't think you ruined your reputation. You didn't," Taehyung asserted as Jungkook started to protest. "Sure, you made a mistake—I won't deny that. But you didn't give up or quit. You worked your ass off and fixed things. Not everyone would've put in that much effort to right their wrongs. So if anything, you proved how capable you really are."
Jungkook bit at his lip, letting those words fall over him. A small part of him wanted to object—to add that the only thing he was capable of doing was making mistakes—though the other, bigger part of him wanted to believe what Taehyung said. "You really think that?"
"I do." Taehyung slid one hand free from his hold, lifting it so his fingers could comb through Jungkook's damp hair. "And you know, it's okay to make mistakes sometimes. That's how you learn and grow. Otherwise, you'd be perfect and boring and wouldn't get anything out of life."
"But I want to be perfect. Is that so wrong?"
Taehyung tucked a section of hair behind Jungkook's ear, his fingers carefully tracing the sensitive shell. "That depends. If perfection comes at the cost of your happiness, would you willingly pay the price?"
That's . . . That's what Jungkook had been doing. For months. He'd been sacrificing everything and losing bits and pieces of himself along the way. He had put his needs on the back burner in a desperate effort to be his best—to be the best. And after all this time, he could finally admit that none of it was worth it. It wasn't fucking worth it.
"I've been paying that price," Jungkook breathed, the realization still washing over him, "but I don't want to anymore. I want to be happy again."
"You will be."
"I want to find time for myself. I want to live rather than just survive."
"You can. You can do all those things, Jungkook. And actually . . ." Taehyung brought his fingers to Jungkook's chin, turning it so they could fully look at each other. "We're going to brainstorm."
"Brainstorm?" Jungkook asked, readjusting his head so he could more comfortably look up at his hyung. As their eyes met, something electrical zapped down his spine.
Taehyung hummed, his gaze glittering with promise. "You said you needed to find time for yourself. So we're going to come up with some ways you can do that."
"Right now?"
"No time like the present. So . . . Let's think of small things, okay? What can you do that will make you happy today?"
Jungkook pursed his lips, thinking. "Well . . . I can go to the gym, I guess. That always makes me feel better."
The corner of Taehyung's mouth rose into a knowing smirk. "Of course. You're not just a cuddle bun, you're a muscle bun. What else?"
"I can . . . paint?" Jungkook proposed, racking his brain for things that used to bring him joy. "Play video games?"
"You don't sound so sure."
"I can spend time with you."
"Oh," Taehyung giggled, "now you sound very sure. Will that make you happy?"
"Yes," Jungkook stated clearly and without any hint of embarrassment. "I want to keep seeing you."
"Good," Taehyung said, gliding his fingers over Jungkook's cheek in the most tender of strokes. "Because I want to keep seeing you, too."
They talked for a while after that, brainstorming some more and laughing some more. Jungkook hardly remembered that he was paying his hyung to be here; this all felt so natural, so effortless, so mutually beneficial. But when the end of their session snuck up on them—Taehyung's phone chiming as the timer finally reached zero—reality sunk in. Sixty minutes had come and gone, and their time together was officially over. But rather than push Jungkook out of his arms and rush out the door, Taehyung hugged him tight to his body and once again repeated that he was proud, that Jungkook was brave, that Jungkook was going to be happy.
And even though a strange, hollow feeling filled Jungkook's chest as they finally extricated themselves from each other's hold, he could admit that for this moment, he was happy.
And it was all thanks to Taehyung.
Five minutes later—after they got up from the couch and Taehyung made Jungkook swear he wouldn't work for the rest of the night—they were at the door, Jungkook in his apartment and Taehyung out in the hall. There was so much Jungkook wanted to say, so much he wanted to thank his hyung for, but his words couldn't possibly convey everything he felt. So instead, he stepped out into the hall and wrapped his arms around Taehyung, holding him closely for just a few more seconds.
Taehyung immediately reciprocated the hug, nuzzling his head against Jungkook's as he pressed their bodies even more firmly together. And after a long and deep exhale, he murmured directly into Jungkook's ear, "Before I go, tell me something good that happened to you today. No matter how small."
"You answered my call," Jungkook said, whispering those words into his hyung's neck. "You came here."
A satisfied hum sounded in Taehyung's throat. "That's a very good thing indeed. And if you need me before Friday, you know you can call me. Right?"
"Right." That was the only thing that settled the emptiness in Jungkook's chest—the knowledge that he had another session booked with Taehyung in just a few more days.
And while those days at work, those days alone, wouldn't be easy, Jungkook had this small hope that they would be easier. Because now he had something to look forward to. Now he had an outlet, a source of comfort, a fucking beacon of light.
Now he had Taehyung.
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》 V A L E N W R I T I N G 《
This chapter was very timely for me. Over these last couple of months, I've found myself falling back to a place filled with stress and anxiety. So to write this, to give Jungkook's character the big hug he needed, it almost felt like I was giving that comfort to myself. It felt like I was giving myself hope for better days to come. I truly hope you all felt comforted by this chapter as well.
I don't think I've ever written so intimately but platonically before, so detailing these touch-filled interactions has certainly been a new challenge for me. I honestly feel like there is more tension—do you agree? We'll begin to see how this physical and emotional intimacy affects both Jungkook's and Taehyung's characters very soon, which is probably the part I am most excited about!
Let me know what you thought about this session. Did it play out like you thought? Did anything surprise you? Tell me your thoughts on Jungkook and Taehyung. And maybe my favorite question—how did it all make you feel? To me, I felt very soft by the end of it, so I'd love to hear from you all, too!