Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The pristine glass door fogs up. Water droplets sliding down in a manner as if they are shy of breaking the peaceful silence that has taken over the warm, fuzzy atmosphere of the bathroom. 

Nothing but the soft sound of breathing can be heard. Breaths of content.

“You okay?” Taehyung asks, his voice just above a whisper. Soft, tender, gentle.

Jungkook lets out a sigh and snuggles back by shifting a little to be more comfortable. The lukewarm water along with the warmth of Taehyung’s body engulfing him in a cocoon of ease. “Mhmm, yeah.” he murmurs. 

His eyes remain closed as Taehyung runs one of his palms over Jungkook’s ribs and the other makes soothing circles on his arm, back hugging him while laying in the bathtub.

Jungkook squirms a little when Taehyung presses a kiss at the sensitive spot of his nape.

Sex is normal. Everyone has sex with their respective partners and it’s just about that. Jungkook has had sex before too just like Taehyung did. It’s no big deal. 

But not once has Jungkook lost the ability to walk after sex. 

Granted, he was never fucked with a dick like that before, and of course he didn’t actually think it was possible to lose sense in your legs after a couple— couples— of rounds of mind blowing sex. 

So like he always does, after catching his breath and post-sex cuddling, Jungkook got up to shower.

And fell flat on his ass.

Jungkook flinches. “Are you laughing?! Why are you laughing?” he asks, eyebrows frowning deeper as he takes in his husband’s face, glistening with water droplets.

Taehyung is trying his best to keep his lips pressed shut but failing miserably. “I’m not laughing.” he lies nonchalantly. “I was just thinking about earlier. It’s a good thing I do weightlifting whenever I get time to hit the gym.” 

Jungkook’s ears turn red. He doesn’t need further explanation to understand what Taehyung means by that.

After he fell—embarrassingly— on his ass, Taehyung picked him up bridal style and made him sit in the bathtub. Jungkook is not light by any means and he definitely is heavier than Taehyung because of his muscles  and all. So it did take his husband a bit of effort to pick him up.

“You are a jerk.” Jungkook mumbles. 

“I did absolutely nothing to be a jerk.” Taehyung retorts back right away, his mouth still pressed against Jungkook’s nape. It sends goosebumps down his spine whenever he speaks.

Post-sex Taehyung is clingy. Or at least that’s what Jungkook understands from how he has been treating him. The continuous physical contact, soothing circles over his hips, knuckles, gentle-featherlight kisses on the neck and jaw while they take a bath together.

Jungkook wonders if he did this with his previous patterns too.

“I’ve never taken a bath with anyone before.” Taehyung suddenly says and Jungkook almost jumps thinking that his husband has acquired the ability to read minds. 

“Are you having second thoughts?” Jungkook asks him, his heartbeat a tad bit over the normal range. 

Taehyung shakes his head and wraps both of his arms around Jungkook’s middle. “No. I guess I like it.” 

He definitely gets clingy after sex.

“See, I told you you wouldn’t know it until you try it.” Jungkook says softly. And when Taehyung doesn’t retort anything back or deny it, he takes it as a win. 

Everything needs time. With time, every wound heals, every scar fades. Jungkook might not actually know what had caused Taehyung’s deeply rooted thought about relationships, he believes he’ll be there to watch him grow out of that shell he’s so stubbornly made around himself. 

It already started to crack, Jungkook can feel it. He won’t say it though because he fears it might cause him to lock his doors once again. 

Jungkook himself won’t go snooping inside his own heart to investigate the reasons behind the erratic beats and occasional burst of butterflies in his stomach. Some reasons should remain hidden until it’s time. And some he doesn’t want to find out for himself. He’d like this moody, post-sex-clingy man currently washing off the soap from his body to be the one to find it out like a treasure hunt.

They take another 10 minutes to finish their bath and then get out of the tub when the water runs stone cold. 

This time Jungkook doesn’t feel the least bit embarrassed as Taehyung uses a towel to dry both of them and then picks him up again to walk back inside the bedroom. Not their bedroom but Jungkook’s old one because their current one isn’t in any shape to be used for the rest of the night.

None of them bother wearing anything as they climb on the bed. Too tired to do so. They simply slid under the blanket as Taehyung turns the bedside lamp off after setting the air conditioning to a perfect temperature. 

This is another change that Jungkook has never experienced with anyone else before. Sleeping buck-naked on the same bed. He bites the insides of his cheeks at the thought of it when a shy smile threatens to spill out. 

“What are you thinking?” Taehyung asks right away, ever the observant one.

Jungkook shakes his head. “Nothing. Do you have office tomorrow?”

“Unfortunately.”

The reply makes Jungkook’s eyebrows furrow together, “Why unfortunately?”

“Because I’m afraid my baby husband might break his hips or ankle trying to do house chores tomorrow. I’d much prefer staying home and helping him around.” 

Taehyung expects the pillow flying towards his face and catches it moments before it hits his face and breaks into laughter. 

“Asshole. You are an asshole. You are so proud of your dick aren’t you?” Jungkook lets the pillow fly over the bed and settles on giving a slap on his chest instead. “Stupid. Big. Dick. Asshole.” he mutters, each word followed by a slap.

“At least you admit it’s big.” Taehyung teases and when Jungkook goes to hit him again, he grabs him by the wrist and wraps it around his middle before hugging him to his chest, both sharing a pillow now. 

“I don’t like you.” Jungkook mutters but snuggles against his chest. 

“Yeah yeah, good night to you too baby.” Taehyung says and presses a kiss on top of his head. 

This is nice. This is really nice. Jungkook would prefer arguing some more but he is truly, completely drained of any energy because of that— stupid big dick— that his eyes flutter and within the next few minutes, soft snores fill the room. 

Taehyung stares down at the face of his sleeping husband, serene and soft. Something tugs at the strings of his heart as he watches him breathe slowly and evenly. 

With another gentle kiss on Jungkook’s forehead, Taehyung closes his eyes too. Ignoring the tugs that grow and grow.

Jungkook wakes up with a sore ass, sore thighs, sore legs and the whole fucking body being sore. 

Well— that’s what happens after fucking. But really, Jungkook has never felt this sore before. 

With puffy eyes, he tries to blink off the lingering sleep and look at the table clock. It reads 5 past 9 in the morning. Jungkook woke up at 7:30 too. He remembers because Taehyung has kissed him on the cheek and whispered in his ears before leaving for work. 

Jungkook thinks his husband might just be an alien because how can he stay up till 3am last night and then get up at 7 to dress up and go to work after all that workout. Jungkook couldn’t even say bye properly, he only slurred when Taehyung left.

He’s still half asleep now as he drags his ass off the bed and goes to the bathroom to freshen up.

A storm of butterflies erupts in his stomach at the sight in the mirror when he looks at himself after washing his face. 

There’s not much but there are some hints of last night left on Jungkook’s pale, toned torso. Red and purple blooming like flowers on his body and a blush creeps up from his neck to his cheeks. He raises his hand to brush his fingertips against the marks. One right above his v-line, one at his side ribs, one over his left nipple and one just slightly above his collarbone. 

He lets out a scoff when he sees there’s none on his neck or in any part that could be visible by others. 

Jungkook bites down on his lips. He doesn’t remember if he got to leave some on Taehyung’s and didn’t get a chance to inspect because the workaholic left so early in the morning. 

After he’s done with his business in the bathroom, he puts on a loose t-shirt and a pair of shorts to go downstairs and have breakfast. 

Here, another surprise was waiting for him when he saw a plate of bacon and eggs already prepared and wrapped up with a note on top. 

‘If you are hungrier than this, order something up okay? —T’

Warmth spreads across Jungkook’s chest as he goes to brew a cup of coffee and take a fork. 

How married can anyone be? What actually is like being married? What do you expect from a marriage? 

These are questions Jungkook dwelled on before the marriage and settled that the answers don’t apply to him because their marriage is not a marriage in that sense. 

But as he chews on the best fucking bacon he’d ever had, he rethinks all his past decisions. He couldn’t get any more married than this. Marriage is not as complicated as people make it. It’s simple. It’s going to bed together, waking up in the same bed, making breakfast for your spouse before you leave for work because your spouse is too sore and lazy after date-night-sex.

Who taught Taehyung to be this sweet? Obviously he couldn’t have learned it from his partners because he made it crystal clear he’s never really had a relationship that serious. Did he google it? 

Jungkook: Did you google how to make the best fucking bacon and eggs?

Husband: Good morning to you too, sunshine. 

Jungkook’s grin is so wide that his cheeks hurt as he finishes up eating the rest of the food and then proceeds to have his coffee. 

Yesterday was like a fairytale. It sounds cheesy enough but that’s the best way he can describe it. And it makes him feel a little sad that it had to come to an end. Granted, they’ll be going on a lot of dates from now on so he can be happy too, right? 

Or maybe not because when his phone chimes with a notification from his band, he groans remembering that he won’t get time to explore his husband’s body as much as he’d like because of the competition. 

And a gasp slips past his throat when he realizes that just now he felt a little disappointed. Disappointed about something that had been his sole purpose of life. 

Taehyung is slowly, but surely taking up a huge space in his heart without him trying to do so actively. 

And it doesn’t scare Jungkook.

What scares him is a call from his father out of the blue. 

Out of the blue because Jungkook doesn’t remember the last time his father directly called him. He always let the message be conveyed through his mother or his secretary whenever they are not in the same house. So when Jungkook’s phone rings and his father’s caller ID flashes, his heart skips a beat. 

Taking another sip of his coffee, Jungkook takes the phone and answers the call. “Hello, dad.”

“Jungkook! Why am I seeing these?” An irritated voice sears through the phone and makes goosebumps erupt at the back of Jungkook’s neck. And a little bit of confusion engulfs him. 

He sighs and tries to keep his voice as normal as possible. “What exactly are you seeing?” he asks.

“These scandalous photos of you and your husband! Just because you don’t live under my roof anymore doesn’t mean you can go do inappropriate things in public. I have a reputation to maintain.” Jeon Jaehyuk’s voice roars.

Jungkook doesn’t need further explanation to understand what his father is talking about. He needs to physically restrain himself from rolling his eyes so hard that it might get stuck at the back of his head. 

“I am just kissing my husband. Why would that be bad for your reputation? It’s not like I am going around announcing that I sing in an underground music band, right dad?” Jungkook says, his voice as sweet as poison honey dripping from it. 

He’s had it too far for too long. He’s lived under the shadows of his father long enough and now that he’s out of it, he won’t let him try to cut his wings again. Besides, he is being reasonable because exactly why would it taint the reputation of The Jeon Jaehyuk that his son is seen kissing his husband, no less?

“Jeon Jungkook. I am warning you—”

“No dad. You don’t get to have a say in my private life with my husband. If my husband had a problem with me kissing him in public, I can assure you he would let me know. In this matter, only his opinion matters to me and no one else’s.” Jungkook says without a beat. And before Jaehyuk can reply he adds, “And glad to know you only think about talking to me when your reputation is on the line because it’s been months since I moved out of the house and how many times have you thought about trying to know how am I doing? How I may be holding up in this life after you so nonchalantly shipped me off to a person I didn’t even know because it benefited your fucking business and reputation?”

Something stings and Jungkook doesn’t know what. But it stings so bad. 

Just a couple of moments ago, he felt like floating on cloud nine and now he is feeling like he fell on his ass in full force. 

In all honesty, he has no complaints about the marriage now, because Taehyung turned out to be one in a million. 

What hurts him is the fact that his father didn’t even care what if Taehyung wasn’t a one in a million? 

“I asked your mom about you.” Jaehyuk says after a beat and Jungkook can’t stop himself from scoffing.

“Why? Why couldn’t you ask me instead? I am your only child, dad.” Jungkook curses internally when his voice breaks at the edges. He refuses to break. Not like this. 

Jaehyuk doesn’t speak for the next minute and it makes Jungkook grow even more impatient. His eyes stings and his coffee grows cold in his hand. He walks over to the sink and dumps the half cup of remaining coffee into it. 

“You have connections right?” He starts speaking when Jaehyuk doesn’t. “I’m sure it won’t be much of a hassle to remove those scandalous pics from the internet and keep your reputation solid, I believe. So please do that and I am not giving a guarantee that more pics won’t resurface in the future because I am really, really passionate about my husband to keep my hands to myself.” he finishes and declines the call.

“Shit.” Jungkook mutters after throwing the phone over the counter and then sitting on the stool, head in hands. He realizes that he crossed some lines because he lost his patience.

It’s not like Jungkook never talked back to his parents. He’s far from it. But he never talked back like this. It itches at the back of his head because his words probably were so harsh that it left Jaehyuk speechless as he couldn’t say anything back in reply. 

He should call back and apologize. His hands are itching to grab his phone and call back and say sorry. 

Another stubborn part of him stops him from doing so. 

He picks up his phone but not to call his father. He goes to the search engines and searches up his and Taehyung’s name on it. 

It’s at the top, trending on a shitty tabloid site with a fake cover photo, edited in an ugly way too. He clicks the tab and there it is, a single photo, a real one. 

The way his father came at him, Jungkook had hoped for a more explicit something. But this is nothing compared to the earful he got a few minutes ago. 

Their body is partially hidden behind the pillar they leaned on and their faces unrecognizable because you can’t directly see it. But Jungkook knows it’s them and it won’t take a genius to figure out what they are doing with their faces being so close to each other. 

It’s a decent looking photo nonetheless, it’s the steamy headline that ignited the fire. 

Jungkook stares at the photo and his anger from a moment before starts to dissipate. He does it almost subconsciously, bringing his hand to his mouth to trace his lips. As if he can still feel Taehyung’s mouth there, feel the taste of him.

He thinks about sending this to Taehyung but then stops himself because suddenly he feels embarrassed. 

He gets up and washes the plate and coffee mug and then puts them on the rack to dry. Then he goes upstairs to change out of his shorts and wear a pair of jeans and throw a hoodie on top because he has to drop by the studio. They have a meeting scheduled.

Their meeting and practice session ends around 12 o’clock and now Jungkook has nothing to do for the rest of the day. 

He had let Taehyung know in the meantime that he went out of home and in return got to know Taehyung has less work today so he’ll be home earlier. But that won’t be until afternoon so Jungkook needs to figure out what to do for the time being.

When he reaches the studio, he finds Yoongi and Hoseok first. 

“Jesus, you two are looking comfy.” Jungkook whistles and it causes them to flinch and almost fly away from how fast they pull away from each other’s mouth. Yoongi looks red like a tomato as he hurries off and doesn’t meet Jungkook’s eyes. Hoseok looks smug. 

“Knock before you enter?” Hoseok tells him.

“Since when did I ever knock?” Jungkook scoffs.

Mingyu shows up a couple minutes later and all four of them get to discuss the second round of the competition that’s going to happen sooner than later. It’s one of their biggest career highlight moments and there’s no chance of mistakes. Jungkook has dreamed about this for so long and now that the moment is here, there’s just a little bit of nerves that keeps tingling his spines. 

But then he thinks about something else. How his life has changed in the last couple of months. How he wouldn’t be dreaming about reaching this far only a while ago. How he wouldn’t even think about being married and be able to continue music. 

The thought of Taehyung brings a smile to his face. He can’t wait to be home and see him again. It sounds so corny that he is excited to see his husband as if they didn’t spend the whole night fucking just yesterday. But he thinks he is entitled to feeling like this because in one way or another, this can be described as a honeymoon phase, right? So yeah he is excited to see his husband. Sue him.

“Why are you blushing?” Mingyu suddenly asks which brings Jungkook back to reality.

“What?” he asks, trying to play it cool.

“Yeah. Your cheeks are red. What did you do?” Mingyu raises an eyebrow at him. “And wait– you actually do look kinda different.” 

“You’re just making shit up.” Jungkook says and gets his guitar strings into a tune. But Mingyu doesn’t let go. He keeps pestering him about it until he gasps out loud.

“Oh my god you got laid! That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the post-sex-glow!” 

Jungkook nearly drops his pick. "What?" he blurts, voice cracking just enough to betray him.

Mingyu points at him dramatically as if he'd just solved the world's greatest mystery. "I knew it."

"You know nothing." Jungkook tries to deny but even he knows he can’t control how his complexion changes. 

"No, no, hear me out." Mingyu walks around him with narrowed eyes. “You were just smiling to yourself, as if you were daydreaming. The fact that you've checked your phone six times in the last ten minutes." 

Mingyu points out and Jungkook realises that he had checked his phone at least 3 times already. 6 is just an exaggeration by the shithead. But he isn’t going to confirm that. "I was checking the time."

"You smiled at your phone!" Mingyu counters, rather impatiently. 

Hoseok snorts from the couch. "He did."

"I did not." Jungkook thinks about how long he can hold this up before he has to come clean. His friends are way too nosy. He needs new friends.

"You absolutely did," Hoseok says. "You looked down and smiled like someone in a toothpaste commercial." 

Yoongi, who had been quietly adjusting a pedal, finally looks up. "You've also missed a chord progression."

Jungkook freezes. Shit, was he really daydreaming to the point of missing a key? No this cannot be happening to him. “Uh it was just a slip of the hand. Won’t happen again, hyung.” he says.

Mingyu gasps again, louder this time. "He's denying it! That's confirmation! Denial is always confirmation!"

"Literally what kind of ass logic is that?" Jungkook rolls his eyes at him. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It does in this situation. You got married to the hottest guy in the country. Then you come back glowing, smiling at your phone, unable to focus, and somehow even more annoying than usual." Mingyu tells him. 

Hoseok leans forward with an amused grin. "I think our maknae has become a family man."

Jungkook groans. "I'm literally standing right here."

"We know," Hoseok says. "We're talking about you."

"You guys are impossible.” 

“We won’t be if you just give us the details.” Mingyu wriggles his eyebrows at him and Jungkook just looks at him with pure disgust.

“Why the fuck would I give you the details about my sex life?”

“Ah huh! So you did have sex! How was it? How big is that dick?” 

“You didn’t just ask me about how big my husband’s dick is.” Jungkook deadpans.

“Ow come on man. Okay don’t tell me about that. But at least say if it was good?”

“I am not telling you anything.” Jungkook says with an eerie smile that shuts Mingyu up. Hoseok is still snickering behind though.

Yoongi joins in then. "So."

"So what?"

"How's married life?" Yoongi asks. He isn’t someone to pry into someone’s personal life but he has always treated Jungkook as one of his little brothers and he was concerned for him when Jungkook told them about the marriage. 

Jungkook doesn’t really know how to express it though. So he just decides to go with what he feels at the moment. "...Good."

"Just good?" Mingyu says, looking offended. "That's all we're getting?"

"It's private." Jungkook tells him. He is getting a little irritated now.

"Our Jungkook has boundaries now."

"He used to tell us everything."

"Marriage changes people."

"You once spent twenty minutes explaining why your favorite instant ramen tasted different after midnight."

Jungkook just lets out the biggest sigh because he now knows these fuckers are trying to get on his nerves now. This is all just lighthearted banter. 

"That's completely unrelated."

"It tells us how much you've changed."

The room erupts in laughter.

Jungkook hides behind his guitar, hoping it somehow makes him invisible.

It doesn't. Mingyu plops down beside him with a grin that spells trouble. "So when are we meeting him again?"

"You've met him at the wedding."

"We met him as The Kim Taehyung. We wanna meet him as the spouse. The spouse who’s making you blush in broad daylight.” Hoseok adds.

"He hasn't become a different person, hyung."

"He kind of has." Hoseok says and Mingyu nods thoughtfully.

"Titles have power." He says, posing as though he’s in deep thoughts. As if that empty head of his has any thoughts that’s useful.

Yoongi deadpans, "Please don't start giving speeches."

"I'm just saying," Hoseok continues, "there's a certain dignity to saying 'Jungkook's husband.'"

Mingyu immediately tests it out. "'Jungkook's husband made cookies.'"

"'Jungkook's husband picked him up.'" Hoseok continues.

"'Jungkook's husband probably has to remind him where he left his wallet.'"

The fuckers are now howling in laughter. Even Yoongi has a little smirk at the corner of his lips and Jungkook can’t help but join in too.

"You know what? We have a competition coming up. Shouldn't we be practicing instead of interrogating me?" Jungkook tells them accusingly.

Yoongi glances at the clock. "He's right. Let’s start from the beginning again. Jungkook, don’t mess up the chords this time."

“Ugh hyung!”

Hoseok snickers, "Fine. Professional mode."

Mingyu salutes.

"No more teasing."

Exactly twelve seconds pass. As Jungkook begins the opening riff, his phone buzzes that’s face up on the table. The screen lights up and it makes his face soften instinctively as a smile takes over his face.

Mingyu doesn't even wait for him to check the message.

"I KNEW IT!"

“Fuck off.” Jungkook shows him the middle finger as he pockets the phone.

Taehyung gets home at half past three.

Jungkook hears the front door before he sees him, the familiar click of the lock, the soft thud of shoes being set aside rather than kicked off, which Jungkook still hasn't managed to make a habit of himself despite Taehyung's pointed glances at his scattered sneakers by the entrance every single time. He's sitting cross-legged on the living room couch with his guitar in his lap, working through the same bridge progression they'd rehearsed earlier at the studio, trying to smooth out a transition that keeps snagging at the same note like a thread caught on a nail. He's been at it for the better part of an hour. The apartment is quiet around him except for the low hum of the air conditioning and the occasional soft complaint of the guitar strings.

He doesn't look up right away.

Tries not to.

He lasts about four seconds.

Taehyung walks in loosening his tie, jacket already slung over his forearm, the first two buttons of his shirt undone.

His eyes find Jungkook immediately, like they were calibrated to. Something easy and unhurried settles into his expression. Not surprise. Something quieter than that.

"You're home," he says, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

Not a question. Just noting it. Like the fact of it is a thing that pleases him and he sees no reason to pretend otherwise.

"You're early," Jungkook says back, which both of them understand is not a complaint in any form. On the contrary, Jungkook has been looking forward to when Taehyung will be back. The reason why he got home early from practice was because Taehyung said he would be back home early.

Taehyung drops his jacket over the armrest of the couch and comes to sit beside him without ceremony or announcement, throwing an arm at the back of the couch so there’s space for Jungkook to scoot closer. And he does, placing his guitar on the side. 

Taehyung looks unbelievably pleased at that as he turns his head and places a soft kiss at his temple and keeps his face right there."How was practice?" he asks, his hand coming up to caress Jungkook’s hair.

"Good. Productive." Jungkook says, leaning into the touch. "My bandmates are menaces though."

"That I already knew after meeting them at the wedding." Taehyung says, and there's something dry and fond in it all at once. His hand moves, going from his hair to caress his ear and then down the slope of his neck. Jungkook has a pretty neck. Soft, pale and Taehyung wonders why he didn’t leave any marks there last night. "Did you eat anything after morning?"

Jungkook feels shivers run down his spine at how Taehyung is touching him. "I had lunch." he says, thankful that his voice doesn’t betray him.

"What was lunch?"

A pause that lasts slightly too long to be innocent. "Cup ramen."

Taehyung's grip on his neck tightens. Not hard. Just the specific pressure of someone exercising visible restraint. "Jungkook."

"You know I can’t cook for shit. I was going to order something and then I got distracted."

"By what?"

Jungkook gestures vaguely at the guitar. Taehyung follows the gesture with his eyes and then returns his gaze to Jungkook's face with an expression that communicates several things simultaneously, none of them particularly forgiving on the subject of nutritional negligence.

"You played guitar instead of eating lunch."

"When you say it like that it sounds bad."

"It is bad."

"I had the ramen too."

"Cup ramen is not food, it's a punishment shaped like food." Taehyung says, and his thumb moves, just once— a slow drag over his pulse point. It's such a small thing. Jungkook feels it disproportionately. "I'll make something. What do you want?"

"You just got home."

"I'm aware of that. What do you want?"

Jungkook looks at him sideways. Taehyung is looking back at him with that particular expression he has— the one that's patient in a way that isn't passive, that's waiting in a way that intends to win. Jungkook has learned in the last several weeks that arguing with that expression is an exercise in diminishing returns because Taehyung somehow knows how to work Jungkook.

"Whatever's easy," he mutters.

"I'll figure it out," Taehyung says, and then— doesn't move. Doesn't get up. His hand stays at Jungkook's nape, fingers still loosely there, and he seems in no particular hurry to relocate himself to the kitchen just yet. He looks at the guitar again. "Play the thing you were working on."

"You wanna watch me free perform?" Jungkook says and Taehyung smirks.

"I'm not asking for a performance. I just want to hear it. It’s for the competition right? Don’t you want the audience's feedback?"

“In other words, you want a free performance.”

“Okay fine. Give me a free performance.” Taehyung air-quotes.

Jungkook makes a face at him that looks playful and then he plays the bridge. He stumbles at the same transition, the same note snagging, the same small ugly hitch in what should be smooth. He hears it. Makes a sound under his breath.

"What's wrong with it?" Taehyung asks.

"The transition. Going from the B to the—" Jungkook plays the two chords in isolation, frowning at his own fingers. "It's not flowing. I can hear what it should sound like and it's just not sitting there yet."

Taehyung nods slowly like he's actually processing this, which is more than most people do when Jungkook talks about music theory. He doesn't pretend to understand the technical details of it but he doesn't glaze over either. He just listens with the seriousness he brings to most things, like the subject is worth the attention because Jungkook is the one talking about it.

"Play the whole thing from the top," he says.

"Why?"

"Because I want to hear the whole thing, not just the broken part."

Jungkook gives him one more look of mild protest and then plays from the top. The verse, the chorus, the bridge with its stubborn hitch. When he finishes, the room is quiet for a moment.

"It's good," Taehyung says.

"The transition—"

"Is the only part that needs work. The rest of it is already there." He says it plainly, without the particular inflation people use when they're trying to encourage someone. Like it's just a fact he's reporting. "Play it again."

Jungkook plays it again.

The transition still snags but marginally less. He's not sure if something actually shifted or if Taehyung's hand still resting at his nape is doing something to his nervous system that's making his fingers more cooperative.

He doesn't investigate that possibility too carefully.

It's when he sets the pick down on his knee and exhales through his nose that Taehyung asks, quiet and without any particular direction, "Something else happen today?"

Jungkook picks at a tuning peg. Doesn't answer right away. The afternoon light is sitting low and yellow through the windows, cutting across the rug in long rectangles.

"My dad called this morning," he says.

He feels rather than sees Taehyung go still beside him. Not tense— just very present. His two fingers at Jungkook's nape don't move, but they seem to apply slightly more weight, like an anchor settling.

“Do you know there’s a tabloid gossip going on about us?” He asks and this seems to amuse Taehyung.

“About what?”

“About our scandalous adventure. Apparently me kissing you in public is scandalous.” Jungkook tells him and Taehyung can’t help but laugh at that. 

“I am guessing your father didn’t like the news.” He says and Jungkook’s mood drops a bit as he nods.

“It’s been months since he talked to me. And the first thing he does when he finally talks to me is be mad at me for this stupid fucking thing. His reputation is all he cares about, not me. Not how I am doing. It’s so ridiculous.”

He isn't sure why he's saying all of this. He hadn't planned to. It just came out like something that had been sitting in his chest at a slightly too-high pressure all day and found the nearest exit once Taehyung was in the room.

"What did you say to him?" Taehyung asks.

Jungkook presses his lips together. "Things I meant. Possibly more things than were strictly necessary at the volume I said them at."

A beat of quiet. "Did you say anything that wasn't true?"

The question reframes it. Jungkook thinks about it honestly. The things he said— about his father's silence over the months, about the marriage being used as a business transaction without consideration for what Jungkook's life inside of it might look like, about not letting him have a say in something that had nothing to do with him. All of it is true. All of it things he'd swallowed for long enough that they came out with more force than he'd maybe intended.

"No," he says. "It was all true."

"Then it needed to be said." Taehyung says it without ceremony, without the gentle hedging that most people would wrap around a statement like that. No but maybe next time attached. No I understand but. Just— that. Clean and certain.

Jungkook looks at him. "You're not going to bring up the business angle? Your family's partnership with his—"

"No."

"Taehyung—"

"I said no." His voice doesn't rise. It just becomes a little more definite, the way a door becomes more closed when you lean against it. "My family's business arrangements have nothing to do with how your father speaks to you, and I'm not going to suggest they do. You don't owe anyone composure when they're being unreasonable. Least of all him."

Jungkook stares at the guitar strings. Something has loosened in his chest. He hadn't clocked how tightly it had been wound until right now, feeling it ease.

The thing about Taehyung— and it took Jungkook some time to map the edges of this— is that he doesn't fill silence with comfort-shaped noise. He doesn't rush to make things better in ways that are actually just about making himself less uncomfortable with someone else's discomfort. When he says something, it tends to be because it's what he actually thinks, not because it's what the situation seems to be asking for.

"You okay?" Taehyung asks.

The same question as last night, standing in the bath with the water running cold and the steam fading from the glass, Taehyung's voice soft against his ear. It’s a different kind of tenderness now but the same essential shape of it— checking in without demanding an answer, making space for whatever the answer actually is.

"Getting there," Jungkook says, which is the truest thing he can manage.

Taehyung's thumb traces a small arc at the base of his skull. Slow. Deliberate. Jungkook lets out a content sigh. "Are you doing that on purpose?" he asks.

"Doing what?"

"The—" Jungkook makes a gesture with his hand. "You know what I mean."

Taehyung is quiet for a moment, and when Jungkook risks a sideways glance he finds him wearing a shit eating grin, “Since when are you shy of saying what’s on your mind?”

“Ugh you’re so annoying.” Jungkook tells him and fakes an attempt of moving away but Taehyung’s grip just tightens on him. He now leans in closer so that his lips are brushing against Jungkook’s ear, softly but it still jolts him.

"Does it bother you?" Taehyung asks.

"No." It comes out with embarrassing immediacy. No three-second deliberation, no pretense. He clears his throat. "I like it.”

"What else do you like?" Taehyung asks, moving his lips at the same time tilting Jungkook’s head.

“Whatever you are doing.” Jungkook says, voluntary tilting his head to bare his neck for him. Taehyung places his lips at the crook of his neck and kisses him. It’s a closed mouth kiss. Which Jungkook wish it wasn’t. “Do you like this? Cuddling on the couch? Have you done this with anyone else before?”

Taehyung's fingers shift at his nape, just a small adjustment that somehow registers along Jungkook's entire spine. He doesn't answer immediately, and Jungkook has learned that Taehyung's silences aren't evasions. They're him actually considering the question.

"No. I don't think I’ve ever cuddled before.” he tells Jungkook, honestly. And it makes Jungkook so pleased.

He thinks about what that means, about Taehyung moving through his life touching people in ways that didn't mean anything, and whether that was better or worse than the alternative, and then he thinks about the word means and what it implies about the present tense and decides he can't go much further in that direction without doing something embarrassing.

Taehyung moves back and looks at Jungkook again, “Come on, let’s play it one more time before I make you some actual food.” he says. 

Jungkook looks slightly disappointed because he thought they were gonna do something else but he doesn’t mind as he picks up his pick and plays the bridge again.

The transition is smoother this time. Not perfect but noticeably better, like something has settled into the right place while he wasn't concentrating on it. He plays through to the end without stopping.

"There it is," Taehyung says quietly.

Jungkook doesn't say anything. He plays it again.

Taehyung does eventually get up to make food, and Jungkook listens to him move around the kitchen— the soft percussion of cabinet doors, water running, the low hiss of the gas igniting under a pan. It's a particular kind of domestic sound that Jungkook has gotten used to in the way you get used to things that are secretly exactly what you wanted without knowing you wanted them. Quietly. Completely. Without fanfare.

He keeps playing, quieter now, half paying attention to the guitar and half tuned to the sounds from the kitchen like a radio frequency he's found and doesn't want to lose.

At some point Taehyung calls out, "Do you want to eat out here or at the table?"

"Here is fine."

A few minutes later Taehyung reappears with two bowls of something that smells better than anything Jungkook has made for himself in recent memory, sets one in Jungkook's hands with a brief press of his fingers over Jungkook's knuckles as he transfers the bowl— another small touch, easy and unannounced— and folds himself back onto the couch. Closer this time. Their shoulders making contact now, a warm solid line of pressure that Jungkook has to actively not acknowledge.

He looks into the bowl. Rice, some kind of braised thing, vegetables laid out with a neatness that speaks to someone who was taught how to plate food and retained it.

"You made this in fifteen minutes?" Jungkook says.

"I used leftovers."

"It looks like you didn't use leftovers."

"That's because I have a basic understanding of heat and seasoning."

Jungkook takes a bite. His eyes close involuntarily. He will not give Taehyung the satisfaction of a reaction and yet his face is apparently doing something because when he opens his eyes Taehyung is looking at him with that small controlled pull at the corner of his mouth that means he is pleased about something and is minimally committed to not showing it.

"Good?" Taehyung asks.

"It's fine," Jungkook says.

"It's fine," Taehyung repeats, in the flat tone of someone who understood the actual message.

They eat in a quiet that doesn't need filling. Jungkook gets through about half his bowl before he remembers he skipped a real lunch and starts eating with more intention. Taehyung eats beside him without rushing, his knee now resting against Jungkook's because at some point in the last twenty minutes they've drifted even further into each other's orbit without either of them marking the moment it happened.

"Mingyu figured out I slept with you," Jungkook says suddenly.

Taehyung  almost chokes on his bite. "What? How?"

"He said I had a glow."

A pause. "Do you?"

"He also said I kept smiling at my phone."

"Did you?"

Jungkook points his chopsticks at him. "You are the least helpful person I've ever spoken to."

"I'm eating. I can't mount a defense right now."

"You didn't even deny it."

"I'm not denying that you were smiling at your phone. I don't know what your phone was showing you."

Jungkook turns to look at him directly. Taehyung is still eating, looking at his bowl, with an expression of absolute unruffled calm that Jungkook has started to suspect is at least partially performed. Because there's something at the very edge of his composure— the microscopic pull of his lips that’s bordering amusement. Delight. 

"You," Jungkook says. "My phone was showing you."

Taehyung takes a bite. Chews. Swallows. "Okay."

"That's your response."

"You hadn't asked a question."

Jungkook opens his mouth. Closes it. Looks at the ceiling for a moment and wonders what series of events in his life led him to marrying someone who is this frustrating and this warm and this infuriatingly, profoundly good at all of this without seeming to try.

He takes another bite of food.

“You sure are glowing. Always.” Taehyung says after a moment and Jungkook thinks today is the day he turns into a tomato permanently. 

When their bowls are empty, Taehyung takes them both to the kitchen without asking and Jungkook picks his guitar back up, and when Taehyung comes back and settles into his spot on the couch, his hand finds its way to the small of Jungkook's back. Low and easy. Warm through the fabric of Jungkook's hoodie. Not rubbing circles, not doing anything in particular— just resting. Staying. Like it's where it was always going to end up.

Jungkook plays.

The bridge comes out clean this time. The transition doesn't snag. The note that's been a nail in the wall all afternoon finally disappears into the progression the way it was supposed to, and for a moment he keeps going past where he normally stops, letting the phrase extend, following the chord change he's been hearing in his head for days, the one he hadn't been able to get his fingers to cooperate with until right now.

He finishes.

He sits with it for a moment.

"That part at the end," Taehyung says. "That wasn't the same as before."

"No."

"It's better."

"Yeah." Jungkook looks down at the fretboard. "I've been hearing it for a while. I couldn't get it out before."

He doesn't know how to explain that sometimes the thing that unlocks whatever's stuck isn't more practice or more concentration but just— this. Someone's hand at the small of your back. Someone sitting close enough that you can feel the warmth of them and not having to explain why that helps. He doesn't explain it. He doesn't think he needs to.

He picks up his phone instead. Opens their chat.

Jungkook: you're annoyingly good at this, you know

He watches Taehyung's phone buzz on the cushion beside him. Watches Taehyung pick it up, read it, set it face-down again without responding.

Then Taehyung's thumb moves at the small of his back. One slow deliberate press, right into the curve of his spine.

Jungkook stares very hard at his guitar.

"At what?" Taehyung asks.

He could say cooking. He could say guitar feedback. He could say making me feel better without making it a big thing. He has options here.

"Being a husband," he says.

He doesn't look over. He can feel Taehyung looking at him and he refuses to meet it because he has approximately zero faith in his ability to maintain any composure whatsoever if he does.

The hand at his back doesn't move. With the other, he turns Jungkooks head to make him look at him and then just leans down and captures his lips between his own. Jungkook kisses back immediately, feeling like he has been starving for this for days. It’s not a heated, desperate kind of kiss that they usually share. It’s gentle, lingering, just basking in each other’s presence. 

The afternoon has gone fully gold now, the kind of light that makes everything look slightly warmer than it is or possibly exactly as warm as it is and you only notice in this kind of light. Jungkook sits in it with his guitar and his husband's hand on his back and the chord change that finally came out right.

"Play it again," Taehyung says.

So Jungkook plays. And Taehyung stays exactly where he is, hand warm at his back, knee against his knee, the evening settling around them like it knows where it belongs too.

The transition doesn't snag once.

The city of Daegu receives them like any city that doesn't know it's being visited by people who matter to each other: indifferently. The streets are narrower than Seoul's, the air carries a different weight, and the venue for the second round of the grand competition sits at the end of a street that smells like a food stall two blocks over.

Wonder arrives the night before the round.

Yoongi has contacts in Daegu— a friend who lets them crash in his apartment, which has two bedrooms that’s enough for them. Mingyu and Jungkook end up sharing a room with two floor mattresses and Yoongi and Hoseok take the room with one bed without discussion.

Jungkook doesn't sleep well.

It's not nerves, exactly. Or it is nerves, but not the kind he expected. The kind he expected would be clean— a sharp edge of anticipation, the kind of focused anxiety he normally gets before a performance. This is something muddier. He lies on the floor with the back of his head on a thin pillow and stares at the unfamiliar ceiling and thinks about the last thing Taehyung said to him before he boarded the train.

"Don’t miss me too much."

He'd said it like it was a joke. Like the simplicity of it was supposed to be funny. And Jungkook had laughed— actually laughed, a real one, the kind that happens before you've had a chance to process what the other person said. He's been turning it over in his head since the moment the train pulled away from the station and Taehyung's figure in his coat disappeared from the platform window. Taehyung had suggested they take his car and he also offered to get them a five star hotel booked but the sole purpose was to remain anonymous so Jungkook declined. 

He picks up his phone. It's 1:47 in the morning. He puts it back down.

Mingyu makes a snoring sound beside him and Jungkook turns to look at his profile in the dark and is suddenly hit by the very strong feeling that he is exactly where he is supposed to be, doing exactly the thing he is supposed to be doing, and also that he misses his husband, and that both of these things can be true at once.

He picks up his phone again.

Jungkook: you awake

Three minutes. He's about to put the phone down again when the reply comes.

Husband: Working. Can't sleep?

Jungkook: why are you working at 2am

Husband: Why are you awake at 2am?

Jungkook: I asked first

A pause. Then:

Husband: Some documents needed reviewing. Seoul doesn't slow down just because you're not in it. Go sleep, you have a round tomorrow.

Jungkook: Competition is tomorrow afternoon. Still counts as today technically

Husband: That's not the argument you think it is.

Jungkook bites down on his smile so it doesn't wake Mingyu.

Jungkook: I'll sleep if you sleep

Husband: Blackmail from a 24-year-old.

Jungkook: is it working?

Another pause. Longer this time.

Husband: Go to sleep, baby.

Jungkook’s heart pumps a little faster at the nickname. He’ll never get tired of hearing it. 

Jungkook: Okay ahjussi.

He puts the phone face-down on his chest and closes his eyes and this time, the ceiling cooperates.

The venue is larger than the first round. It feels different walking into it— the air denser with the particular anxiety of competition, the corridors louder, the technical equipment more elaborate. There are cameras set up at angles that weren't present before, because this is the round where the media coverage begins in earnest.

Jungkook has his mask on before they even enter the building.

They check in, collect their slot number— fourth to perform— and find a corner of the backstage holding area that has a power outlet so Hoseok can charge his phone and Yoongi can pace in a tight circle while running through the set in his head. Mingyu is performing his pre-competition ritual of eating an entire convenience store bag of choco pie without apparent guilt. Jungkook sits on a folding chair and tunes the guitar for the second time in twenty minutes, not because it needs it but because his hands need something to do.

"Stop tuning the guitar," Yoongi says without looking at him.

"I'm not," Jungkook says, and tunes it again.

Mingyu crinkles his choco pie wrapper. "You guys have pre-show jitters every single time and every single time I have to watch it."

"You don't have jitters?" Hoseok asks.

"I do but I metabolize them." He holds up the choco pie as evidence.

"That's just eating," Jungkook says.

"Exactly."

They watch the third group from behind the stage curtain— a duo, two women with guitar and violin, who are very good and who Jungkook files away in a serious mental folder because they are competition in the real sense of the word. The crowd responds warmly. There's a low sound of applause that travels backstage like the beginning of a wave.

"We're up," Yoongi says, which is unnecessary because all four of them already know, but saying it out loud is part of the ritual.

Jungkook rolls his shoulder back once. Adjusts his mask. Picks up his guitar.

He doesn't see the audience when they step out because the lights hit too bright and the stage swallows everything beyond the fourth row. Which is, he has learned, a mercy. He can feel the crowd— its warmth, its attention, the held-breath quality of a room full of people choosing to pay attention to something— without being undone by it.

Yoongi steps up to the microphone and says their name and the crowd gives them the particular reception of we know you from the first round, we're ready.

Jungkook plays the first chord.

The rest is what it always is: the most particular kind of disappearing. He stops thinking about competition and cameras and what his father would say about his son performing on a public stage with media coverage rolling. He stops thinking about the transition in the bridge that still sometimes snags. He stops thinking about Taehyung at his desk at 2 in the morning, reviewing documents in a quiet apartment that is— he's aware, suddenly and with a completeness that takes him off guard— their home.

He just plays.

The set runs for 15 minutes but it feels like it’s been an hour. He knows it ends because the applause is the kind that means something different from the polite kind— it's the kind that rises before the last chord has fully faded, the kind that says yes, that in a language that doesn't need words.

They walk off stage and stand in the backstage corridor in a row, not speaking. More like they have lost their ability to speak for a moment because this was huge! 

"That was us," Hoseok says, finally.

"That was absolutely us," Mingyu confirms, and he sounds slightly startled by his own certainty. 

Yoongi lets out a breath that he has probably been holding since they got on the train last night. He presses his hand to the back of his neck and stares at the floor.

Jungkook leans against the wall and tips his head back and smiles at the ceiling. His ears are still ringing. His fingers are slightly tender from the strings. He feels, in the particular and untranslatable way of someone who has found the thing they're supposed to do with their life and is currently doing it, completely and entirely right.

He's still smiling at the ceiling when he registers the sound of footsteps and then a voice he was not expecting.

"Nice set."

Jungkook's head drops forward.

Kim Taehyung is standing in the backstage corridor in a dark coat and a pale shirt and the particular expression he wears when he's trying to calibrate how much he wants to give away— which is to say, the expression he wears when something is already showing despite his best efforts.

Jungkook stares at him.

"What—" He stops. Starts again. "You're here."

"Observant," Taehyung says.

Jungkook thinks he is just hallucinating at this point because there’s no way his husband is standing right there. “Hey, Hoseok, do you see someone standing there?” He turns to him to ask but Hoseok and the rest of the team are already looking at Taehyung.

Taehyung just rolls his eyes as he takes the steps closer to Jungkook. At this side of the backstage, only Jungkook’s team is here so there aren’t any other prying eyes. Even if there was, Jungkook is sure Taehyung has his ways to keep them away.

"Daegu is a four-hour train ride from Seoul." Jungkook says what comes to his mind. He is just so shocked and— happy— that he doesn’t know what else to say.

"I'm aware of the geography of my own country." Taehyung tells him as he stands right in front of him and lets his arm swoop around Jungkook’s waist.

Jungkook looks at his bandmates, who are experiencing what appears to be simultaneous delight at his expense. Mingyu is visibly restraining a grin with the effort of someone trying not to win a bet in front of the person they made the bet with. Yoongi looks at the corridor ceiling with an expression of polite non-involvement. Hoseok just waves at Taehyung with both hands.

"Hi, Taehyung-ssi!"

"Hoseok-ssi," Taehyung nods, and then his gaze finds Jungkook again, quiet and unhurried.

Jungkook doesn't particularly plan what happens next. His arms go around Taehyung's shoulders and Taehyung's arms come around his back with the easy authority of someone who has been waiting to do this for a specific number of hours and has a precise idea of how it should go, and for a moment they just stand like that, holding each other.

Jungkook's face is at Taehyung's neck. He smells like the same thing he always smells like— cedar, something faint and expensive— and like four hours of train travel, and like a man who has been up working since 2am and hasn't slept enough, which is a thing Jungkook apparently now knows by scent.

"You came," Jungkook says. The words come out quieter than he intended.

"I said don’t miss me too much. Looks like you are quite bad at instructions but that shouldn’t be news to me.” Taehyung murmurs to him and Jungkook hugs him tighter. “You played well.”

Jungkook pulls back just enough to look at his face. "You watched the whole thing?"

"From the third row."

"You were in the audience?"

"Where else would I watch a performance."

Jungkook thinks about the set. About the song they opened with, the one that still carries a particular weight because he wrote it in the worst month of the year before the marriage— when the arrangement felt like a door closing— and how it means something different now, has for a while, and he wonders what it looked like from the third row, from Taehyung's face, whether any of that difference is visible from the outside.

"Did you like it?" he asks.

Taehyung holds his gaze. Something settles in his expression, the particular quality of honesty he has when he's decided to give a real answer instead of a managed one.

"Very much," he says. Simply.

Jungkook's ears go warm under the mask he's pulled to his chin. He steps back before Mingyu can say anything.

Mingyu says it anyway. "Knew it. Absolutely called this."

Jungkook doesn’t let Taehyung hear any of the catcalls anymore and just drags Taehyung towards the back bathroom stalls, which coincidentally are empty. Jungkook should be more careful about this considering the whole tabloid thing but at this moment, he doesn’t care much other than for Taehyung.

He pushes Taehyung through one of the empty bathroom stalls and gets inside, locking the door behind.

“Baby wha–”

But Jungkook doesn’t let him finish as he crashes his mouth to his. Taehyung doesn’t wait to kiss back either. Fisting a handful of Jungkook’s hair at the base of his nape, he deepens the kiss. They both groan into it, spit dripping down the chin as their tongues collide and he devour each other hungrily.

“Fuck, I missed you.” Jungkook pants, pulling away. Taehyung redirects his kisses downwards, on his neck, as if he hasn’t gotten his fill yet. Jungkook tilts his head to the side, giving him full access. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

Taehyung bites down his neck, hard. “Do you believe now?” he asks, his voice deep and hoarse. Jungkook is going to melt.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” Jungkook pants as Taehyung keeps trailing kisses down his neck towards his collarbone. 

There’s something incredibly hot about this. In no way Jungkook would ever think that Taehyung would willingly hookup in a bathroom, wearing that expensive coat, looking as pristine as he does. He looks like someone who fucks on a king-size bed with everything needed. But Jungkook knows better than that. 

There isn’t a single flat surface they haven’t fucked on back at their home in Seoul. Bedroom, living room, bathroom, kitchen counter, entrance. 

When they can’t control themselves around each other, they don’t care where they are. As long as they are alone.

And right now they are, and Jungkook doesn’t really have the patience to go anywhere else so that he can do this. Nor does Taehyung because he grinds up to Jungkook’s thigh and he feels how hard he is already. 

Jungkook doesn’t wait a second to unzip his pants and take Taehyung in his hands. “You’re so hard.” He says, giving it a hard and fast stroke that has Taehyung clenching his jaws.

“Can you blame me?” Taehyung murmurs, bringing his lips back to Jungkook’s again. “I’ve got a husband who can’t keep his hands off.”

Jungkook squeezes his cock which makes Taehyung groan, “You didn’t give me any hint that you were going to show up. How else was I supposed to react?” 

“Maybe start by getting on your knees?” Taehyung suggests playfully. 

But Jungkook is dead serious as he starts to drop to his knees. 

Taehyung sucks in a harsh breath, watching as Jungkook lowers his pants and boxers down enough to free his cock. “Fuck, baby, you don’t need to—” But he doesn’t get to finish his sentence as Jungkook takes him in his mouth in one go, gagging around the girth of him.

“Shit.” Taehyung has Jungkook’s hair fisted still, guiding his head up and down his shaft as the latter sucks him off.

Jungkook feels like he is going to explode. He has never been this turned on. Taehyung precum fills his mouth and he hums at the taste. Speeding up his work.

“Jungkook, fuck— I don’t wanna cum in your mouth.” Taehyung tells him and Jungkook pulls away at that, stroking the cock with his hands instead. 

“Why? You wanna cum on my face?” 

If that doesn’t make Taehyung wanna explode already. “As much as I want that, I would prefer cumming in your ass.” he tells him and then hauls him up by the arm.

Jungkook lets out a gasp as Taehyung turns him around and pins him against the wall, his cheek pressed against it. Taehyung’s hands do quick work of unbuttoning Jungkook’s pants and pulling them down along with his boxers and bare his ass to him.

“Spit on here,” Taehyung orders, bringing his palm up closer to Jungkook’s mouth. 

Jungkook does as he’s told. Spitting on Taehyung’s hand and groaning, the both of them. This is so fucking nasty and it’s turning him on so much it’s beyond his mind. 

“Tell me, what do you want?” Taehyung asks, rubbing the rim of Jungkook’s ass and groaning at the feel of it. “Want me to fuck you raw?” 

“Mhmmm.” 

“Words baby.”

Jungkook reaches behind and grabs him by the hair, pulling his face closer. He turns so that his mouth is touching Taehyung’s, “I want your dick inside me.”

Taehyung’s fingers feel so good inside him, Jungkook wants to melt. It’s a little stinging at first as they’ve got no lube and work with precum and spit– but once the uncomfortable feeling subsides, and his long fingers start touching and pressing against Jungkook’s prostate, he’s lost to nirvana.  

“Oh fuck– if you keep doing that…I might come.” 

“No. Not before I say so.”

“Fuck you.”

“Oh I will.”

The head of Taehyung’s cock rubs up and down between Jungkook’s ass and he arches it back, so impatient. It’s not like Taehyung is any better. But he’s trying to savour the moment. Jungkook’s little moans and groans are music to his ears and he just wants to keep doing that a little more. 

 “Taehyung…Please…fuck me already.” Jungkook moans and that does it for him.

With excruciating slowness, Taehyung pushes inside, both of them holding their breath. 

“Fuck you’re so tight.” Taehyung pants.

“Oh yes, give it to me. All of it.”

And Taehyung does. Once bottomed out, he lets Jungkook adjust and then starts moving, forgetting the surroundings completely and just drowning in pleasure. 

Jungkook can’t believe this is happening right now. None of it he saw coming. Which makes this extra pleasurable. 

Taehyung is here.

Taehyung took a four-hour train from Seoul, on a weekday, to stand in a backstage corridor that smells like old stage curtain and someone else's sound equipment, in a city he didn't need to be in, for a competition he wasn't invited to, to watch a set he could have heard about second-hand.

He didn't ask Taehyung to come. He wouldn't have. Not because he wouldn't have wanted him there— he would have, he's known for a while now that Taehyung's presence does something specific to his nervous system that no amount of self-honesty has been able to neutralize— but because asking would have felt like too much. Like reaching past the line they'd drawn without saying it was a line. Their arrangement, in its original shape, did not include this. Did not include someone rearranging their schedule and boarding a train to a city four hours away because their husband has a competition and they want to be there. That belongs to a different kind of marriage. The kind Jungkook had decided, very early and very firmly, was not the kind he was entering.

He had been so certain of that.

And it certainly doesn’t fit into the arrangement they are settled into now— dating while being married. This change came not so long ago. Or maybe— just maybe the change was happening all along but Jungkook just didn’t see it until now.

What undoes Jungkook is that Taehyung came and didn't make it into anything. Didn't announce it, didn't frame it as a gesture, didn't perform the arrival in a way that asked for recognition or gratitude or anything at all in return. Just showed up in the backstage corridor and said nice set like it was the most ordinary thing in the world, like this is simply what people do, like it hadn't cost four hours and a rearranged calendar and a decision to be somewhere he wasn't required to be.

This is what made Jungkook lose it all and just drag him to the nearest bathroom stall and fuck his brains out. As if he couldn’t get close enough.

Jungkook had spent so long being certain this was a deal. A transaction. An arrangement that two rational adults had entered for reasons that had nothing to do with wanting each other beyond the lust they obviously have for each other. He'd built a whole architecture of distance around that certainty, a whole set of rules about what to expect and what not to, a whole practiced indifference toward the possibility that it could be something else.

Taehyung has been quietly, consistently, without any apparent effort,  and without knowing it himself, taking that architecture apart for months. 

And as they both release with a shuddering gasp, clinging onto each other for dear life, Jungkook wonders just how deep he has started to fall into this pit of something he fears naming. 

He just hopes that he isn’t the only one who’s falling.