keep singing this lie (7) | kth + jjk
Summary: Black Swan, an up-and-coming alternative metal rock band, is going on its first official tour. Jungkook looks forward to proving himself in a cutthroat industry, and Taehyung looks forward to the groupies. Neither expects to find the comfort their hearts truly desire in one another.
Pairing: Drummer Taehyung x Singer Jungkook
Chapter Rating: Explicit
Chapter WC: 5,535
Chapter CW: Yoongi is a villain!!, Jealous Taehyung, Anal Fingering (in public), I got really emotional writing this chapter (and the next one) i'm ngl
A/N: i spent a lot of time reworking the outline for this fic cuz i didn't like what i had written/where i wanted the story to go. i updated the chapter count and now i'm scared LOL. anywayyy, i apologize for leaving this on a cliffhanger but i've been feeling miserable about not posting regularly lately (it's the Depression and ADHD), so i hope you'll think "a cliffhanger update is better than no update"
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Taehyung doesn’t know if consuming sweets for breakfast is a unique tradition in the U.S., but for some reason it was the thing that set him off when he followed Jimin to the other side of the world. It wasn’t getting a passport, navigating visas, or sneaking out of his family’s apartment in the early hours to catch a red-eye flight that broke him. With a less-than-beginner’s vocabulary and wide eyes, Taehyung sat down at some dingy diner a fifteen-minute drive from Chicago O’Hare International Airport, his lone suitcase crammed under the table alongside Jimin’s, and nearly burst into tears when the waitress slid a stack of chocolate chip-loaded pancakes in front of him.
In all honesty, Taehyung can’t remember why he got so upset. Had his eyes welled with tears of joy? Was he horrified by the sugary monstrosity? There was something about the transition from kimchi to sticky syrup that he hadn’t been prepared for.
Taehyung runs his tongue over his front teeth and remembers how he’d gagged after eating a spoonful of butter, thinking it had been a scoop of ice cream. Now, he sits in front of fluffy pancakes topped with assorted berries and powdered sugar, and a large salted caramel latte off to the side, and tries not to consider how much of him is still exactly the same.
“I feel like I’m too dirty to be here,” Seokjin whispers against the side of Taehyung’s face. Taehyung wants to turn and laugh, but he can’t break away from Jungkook’s smiling face.
Across the table, Jungkook sits close enough to Yoongi that they keep bumping elbows while they eat. It turns out Agust D isn’t the pretentious, selfish, famous musician Taehyung had expected him to be.
Well, Taehyung thinks he’s pretentious, but the rest of Black Swan disagrees, so what the fuck does he know?
Two days after Spine Breaker, they’re sitting in a boutique cafe in the festival city’s downtown, racking up a bill that will total more than what their gigs sometimes offer. Yoongi said he’ll cover it, along with the expense of reserving the back room so they would have more privacy as they ate brunch. Because apparently Yoongi gets recognized when he goes out, and finds it “tiresome”. Taehyung wouldn’t know.
“Do you like living in New York?” Jimin asks Yoongi, pulling Taehyung from his thoughts to return to the conversation—if one can call it that. It has mostly been a Q&A with the alternative rapper, just shy of an interrogation from two eager fans.
“It’s definitely entertaining,” Yoongi offers with a shrug. He leans back in his chair, swirls his champagne flute, the bright orange mimosa twirling at a leisurely pace that matches his relaxed posture. “I prefer Chicago, though. I spend time there more than New York, when I can.”
“Really?” Jungkook’s eyes grow wide. “We’re from Chicago!”
I’m from Daegu, Taehyung wants to interject. But he bites the inside of his cheek and tries not to think about how pink Jungkook’s cheeks get when Yoongi touches his shoulder.
“No wonder you’re so talented. I swear, Chicago produces the best talent. The music scene is more genuine.” Yoongi’s grin is gummy and sweet, or so Jimin said after they met at the Agust D meet and greet during Spine Breaker Fest.
Apparently, Black Swan’s performance, as well as Jimin and Jungkook’s auras, had made such an impression on Yoongi that he wanted to spend his last day in town with them.
Taehyung and Seokjin had stayed behind for the meet and greet, trying to finish cleaning out the Emo Mobile before dusk. Since the festival lasted all weekend, they got to camp out at the RV lot, an insignificant speck of rust and puke green metal in a sea of high-end tour buses. Sure, there were plenty of bands at Spine Breaker who were just as ragtag of a group as Black Swan, but Taehyung likes to pretend they’re the only ones. Rather than be ashamed, he feels a sense of pride in making it to a festival that big with what little resources and industry pull they have. Black Swan is for everyday misfits just trying to make it out alive.
Unlike Yoongi, with his gold Rolex and black card.
Well, maybe it’s not really a Rolex or a black card. Maybe it’s just an average watch and Yoongi actually has major credit card debt. Maybe Taehyung is grinding his molars and thinking about punching that smug grin off Yoongi’s face as Jimin and Jungkook gush over how cool it is to be getting brunch with their favorite musician.
Fuck, he needs about twenty mimosas right now. This conversation would be so much less painful if he could get even a little tipsy.
Taehyung gulps down his water. Just as he’s about to put the glass back, a waiter arrives with a huge pitcher and refills it without a word. Being doted on by a stranger makes Taehyung’s skin crawl.
“And what about you, Taehyung?” Yoongi asks after taking a sip of his mimosa. His eyebrows arch in anticipation.
Taehyung doesn’t mean to snap, but his response is dry and clipped. “What.”
Jimin narrows his eyes at Taehyung over his mimosa, poured in a standard water glass because he always spills champagne flutes.
“Is this the life you’ve always imagined as a musician?” Something about Yoongi’s tone sounds condescending, like Taehyung hasn’t met some standard he isn’t aware of.
Taehyung crosses his arms against his chest with a snort. “It’s Black Swan or nothing.”
“Yeah,” Seokjin adds through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. He’s only half-listening; Taehyung doesn’t blame him.
Yoongi’s grin widens, and Taehyung hates it.
“Loyalty, I admire that,” Yoongi says, like it’s some fantastic feat.
Taehyung holds Yoongi’s gaze. “That’s how it’s supposed to be.”
Beside Yoongi, Jungkook squirms in his seat. His front teeth nibble at his lip ring. Taehyung only feels a little bad.
“I suppose,” Yoongi shrugs before tipping his head back to finish the last of his mimosa. “Sometimes that line of thinking is a bit stifling, though, isn’t it?”
Jimin and Jungkook lock onto every word that comes out of Yoongi’s mouth, like this cafe is a riverbed and Yoongi is Jesus preparing a baptism. Taehyung’s gaze slides to Seokjin for backup, but he’s shoveling more food in his mouth.
“I don’t know. Is it?”
Yoongi interlocks his fingers under his chin and lets his eyes roam Taehyung’s face. “Take Jungkook, for example.”
Jungkook perks up after hearing his name. It makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.
“What about him?” Taehyung asks, attempting to level his voice this time.
“He’s brilliant, isn’t he? You rarely come across vocals like his in a genre like this. There’s so much he could do” — Yoongi waves one hand in a sweeping motion across the table — “a whole assortment of opportunities, laid out like a buffet, to pick apart.”
“So true,” Jimin says, nodding along. “We could experiment more with our music, if we wanted to. I don’t know why we haven’t.”
The conversation morphs into a discussion about musicians who have changed their musical style over time, from Bring Me the Horizon to Mac Miller. Taehyung plops a strawberry in his mouth and wonders what the point is. Black Swan is fine how they are. What they’ve been doing is what got them to Spine Breaker Fest, right? Now that they’ve finally got more eyes on them, why would they switch things up?
For the rest of brunch, Taehyung falls into himself, a quiet observer. It helps that Seokjin seems uninterested in the conversation, too. The two men exchange remarks with one another, content with carrying on their own side conversation about Taehyung accidentally staining the pristine white tablecloth and Seokjin coming back from the bathroom, flustered from not knowing how to flush the fancy toilet.
Seokjin and Taehyung get so caught up in avoiding their peers that Taehyung almost misses Yoongi’s departing message.
“Really, though, I meant what I said earlier,” Yoongi talks like he’s speaking to all four of them, but he has his arm draped around Jungkook’s shoulders as they exit the cafe’s front doors.
“Are you sure?” Jungkook is cute when he’s hesitant, like every word he says is intentional, mulled over in his head before he speaks. Meanwhile, Taehyung thinks the filter between his thoughts and words is broken.
Outside, the heat prickles the back of Taehyung’s neck. He misses how much gentler the summer is back home—in Chicago, not home home. He can hardly remember summer at home.
“We can plan a time to meet up at my studio once I’m back in town. By that point, I’ll have a key you can keep.”
“That’s so generous,” Jungkook smiles, his gaze bouncing between Yoongi and Jimin. “I, um, I don’t even…”
Taehyung and Seokjin trail behind the other three with furrowed eyebrows. Seokjin is frowning at a text message from his landlord complaining that his mailbox is filling up from being away from home for so long. Taehyung is frowning at how Yoongi’s large hand curls around Jungkook’s bare shoulder exposed by his sleeveless tank shirt.
“Our little Kookoo-yah isn’t good with words sometimes,” Jimin says with a giggle, the softest thing about him other than the glee in his eyes.
Jungkook laughs softly, ducking his head. Yoongi doesn’t know that Jungkook doesn’t like being touched by strangers. Taehyung knows, though.
“It’s really kind of you,” Jungkook finally says once Yoongi lets him go.
Yoongi shrugs, so nonchalant, like he’s offering anything less than a professional studio Black Swan could never afford. They practice in Seokjin’s garage and rent out a recording room downtown once they’ve got the money saved up—but only until they’re done.
“I saw how you all perform,” Yoongi continues. “You’ve got something people need these days. I’d be fucking stupid not to help you out.”
Even Seokjin expresses his gratitude, shaking Yoongi’s hand once they reach the parking lot. The Emo Mobile looks like Shrek parked next to Yoongi’s Prince Charming of a Mercedes.
“Have safe travels back to the city. I’ll see you around.”
Yoongi bows his head, a gesture that’s quick and sharp. He doesn’t offer Taehyung his hand, just smiles like he knows Taehyung wouldn’t shake it and doesn’t care either way.
“That whole experience was kind of fucking crazy, if you think about it,” Seokjin says once the band is in the van and Yoongi is long gone. “Really fucking weird, but in a good way, I guess.”
“Weird? Are you kidding? Agust D thinks we’re hot shit!” Jimin screeches just loud enough in a confined space to give Taehyung an immediate piercing headache.
Seokjin hits the curb when he pulls out of the parking lot, jostling Taehyung in the passenger seat. It makes Taehyung realize he hasn’t put his seatbelt on yet, too busy staring out the window at himself in the side-view mirror.
“It’s definitely weird,” Taehyung says after Jimin finishes gushing about how cool and smart Yoongi is. “Why the fuck does he care what we’re doing?”
Seokjin gives Taehyung a sideways glance, just long enough to jut his chin in an upward nod, before he focuses on the road again. Taehyung doesn’t get why Seokjin won’t back him up. Seokjin is the unofficial leader; he should do something.
Annoyed, Taehyung turns toward the window again. He props his head up by resting his elbow on the window and holding his chin in his hand. The summer heat ruffles his bangs like hot breath blown across his face, winning against the tired blow of the Emo Mobile’s air conditioning.
“And, oh my god, he was so fucking hot,” Jimin gushes. “That long orange hair…”
From the back of the van, Jimin and Jungkook talk amongst themselves, accepting that Seokjin and Taehyung aren’t going to match their level of enthusiasm.
“It was different seeing him in person, definitely,” Jungkook says with a small laugh.
Seokjin taps Taehyung on the shoulder with the aux cord without looking away from the road. Nodding, Taehyung pulls his phone from his back pocket and turns up the volume on the radio.
#
Taehyung isn’t a jealous person. He doesn’t care enough about what other people do to get jealous, and most people who know him would easily confirm that his ego is so big that it’s unlikely he even has the capacity to get jealous. So when Jimin asks Taehyung if he’s jealous after he learns Jungkook has been texting Yoongi ever since they met for brunch, Taehyung laughs in Jimin’s face.
“Why the fuck would I be jealous?” he scoffs, staring up at Jimin from his hotel bed. They’re back to booking two rooms, but this time they each have their own bed. Luxurious, truly.
Yoongi probably never has to share a bed with anyone while on tour.
Taehyung lies horizontal across the bed with his head hanging off the side. Jimin looks funny upside down, putting makeup on in front of the floor-length mirror. Taehyung has to wait for him to finish applying mascara on his eyelashes before he can start talking again.
“You were being a dick the whole time we were hanging out.” Jimin points the mascara wand in Taehyung’s direction and sighs when he realizes Taehyung is back to scrolling on his phone.
“That’s just how I am.”
Jimin snorts. “Yeah, okay. You got me there!” Only Jimin can sarcastically do jazz hands in Taehyung’s direction and make him feel just a little regretful.
“You and Jungkook were up his ass for no reason,” Taehyung says as he rolls over onto his stomach. “Like what does he know about us, to be giving us all this advice and making all these assumptions? He doesn’t know jack shit.”
Meeting Taehyung’s eyes through the mirror, Jimin gives him a deadpan stare. “That is literally just what being nice is, Kim Taehyung. I know you wouldn’t understand.”
When Taehyung throws up a middle finger, Jimin sends one right back through the mirror. “Exhibit A!”
Taehyung knows Jimin is right, deep down inside. He knows he’s jealous, but not because of Jungkook. Of course not. He’s jealous of how easily Agust D has it, and how easily he swept in and charmed two of his bandmates. That’s it.
“When are you leaving?” Taehyung asks as he scours Twitter for Spine Breaker Fest reactions and content. Taehyung ruffles his bangs into his eyes. He needs to ask Jimin to trim them. “And why are you even in here? Why aren’t you getting ready in your room?”
The lighting in the hotel room isn’t great, tinting everything with a sickly yellow hue rather than the cold white Taehyung would see better in. So when a soft pink blush blooms across Jimin’s cheeks, Taehyung can’t tell if it’s really there or if the lighting is playing with his eyesight.
“Hyung is busy talking to Jungkook,” Jimin says. Taehyung waits for him to explain further, but Jimin’s lips form a pretty circle as he applies a pale pink gloss.
Taehyung furrows his eyebrows. “Talking about what?”
Jimin shrugs. “I’m not responsible for what Seokjin hyung does.”
With a quiet, “Okay”, Taehyung continues scrolling through Twitter, sufficiently deterred by Jimin’s use of Seokjin’s real name. No Jin or Jinnie hyung in sight. Whatever’s got the two of them pissed at each other is none of Taehyung’s business. He’s not even going out with them tonight. As much as Taehyung loves hanging out with Hoseok and Namjoon, he knows spending their last night in town drinking before they start the long journey back home isn’t a great idea.
A few weeks ago, Taehyung would have been pouring shots for everyone in the hotel room’s little kitchenette. Tonight, he’s waiting in his swim trunks for his bandmates to leave. Another night suffocating the itch in his chest with hot tub steam and muggy summer air will do him some good.
Or so Taehyung thinks until the door beeps open and Jungkook enters with glassy red eyes and pink cheeks. Taehyung sits up fast enough that he sees black spots in his vision. They speckle the room, blocking out Jimin’s look of concern in the mirror and Jungkook rubbing the back of his hand across his nose.
“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks, watching Jungkook slip past Jimin to grab his duffel bag on the other side of the room.
“Nothing,” Jungkook says with his chin ducked against his chest as he digs inside his bag. When Jungkook pulls out his own pair of swim trunks, Taehyung’s stomach flips.
“You’re not coming with us?” Jimin drops his black eyeshadow in his makeup bag. Despite the pink lip gloss, his outfit is as punk as ever, an all-black collection of straps, chains, and mesh. It’s admirable how done-up Jimin gets and how seriously he takes social gatherings when he knows they’re opportunities to market Black Swan.
Without Jungkook at Hoseok and Namjoon’s party, though, it won’t be the same. Seokjin doesn’t know how to use TikTok properly or schmooze with people the way Jungkook does. They’re learned skills, nothing Jungkook particularly enjoys, but he performs well.
And without Taehyung, there’s no sex appeal—no offense to Jimin or Seokjin. It’s just obvious that they aren’t in it for the pleasure they could get. Sometimes it pisses Taehyung off. He feels like the delinquent of the group in more ways than one. Why is he the odd one out? They’re in the business of drugs, sex, and rock ‘n roll, aren’t they? But the moment Taehyung acts on it, he’s suddenly the bad guy.
“You know I hate parties,” Jungkook says with a sigh, tossing his swim trunks on the bed. “We have a really long drive home the next few days, and we’re leaving early in the morning. You and Jin hyung are gonna be hungover and Taehyungie isn’t good at waking up, so I’ll have to drive.”
Jungkook isn’t wrong, even though Taehyung hates when the guys bring up his little “sleepy jazz incident” behind the wheel. Early starts during a road trip suck.
“That’s fair,” Jimin concedes, though he doesn’t seem happy with Jungkook’s decision. It doesn’t matter; no one would dare make the maknae do anything he doesn’t want to do.
Still, Jimin gives Taehyung a stern look once Jungkook disappears into the bathroom to change. Taehyung glares at him right back. There’s nothing behind the mean look but confusion.
“What? I didn’t say anything,” Taehyung says, voice hushed in case Jungkook hears them above the hum of the air conditioning.
“I’m not…” Jimin fidgets with the chain hanging from his belt loops. “I didn’t mean to imply you said anything.”
Taehyung wants to press Jimin, force him to let out whatever weird shit is going on with Jungkook the past few days. It has to be Yoongi’s fault; Taehyung is sure of it. Who else could’ve said something to make Jungkook upset?
But then Jungkook is back. Taehyung tries not to focus on Jungkook’s bare chest and the ridges of his abdomen, instead keeping his gaze on Jungkook’s pretty doe eyes still slightly puffy.
“Are you cool with me going to the hot tub with you?” Jungkook watches Taehyung like he’s waiting for rejection.
As if Taehyung could ever tell Jungkook no.
“Oh, yeah, that’s cool.”
Gathering up his makeup bag, Jimin leans against the dresser with the bag hugged against his chest and watches Taehyung and Jungkook. “I’m gonna talk to hyung, see if he’s ready,” he says while Jungkook shoves his balled up clothes in his duffel bag. “I’ll let you know once we leave.”
“Thank you,” Jungkook says softly. “I hope you guys have fun.” He exchanges small smiles with Jimin with a gentleness Taehyung could only wish he possessed.
Taehyung leaves his phone on the bed, not interested in being burdened with it. This is his new ritual, apparently. It seems every other night he skips out on the parties, instead searching for solitude. He’s gotten lucky; so far, he’s visited the hotel hot tubs when there’s no one else around.
“Ready?” Jungkook asks.
“Always am.”
Jungkook’s grin makes Taehyung’s stomach flip. “Shut the fuck up, hyung.”
Make me, is what Taehyung wants to say. He bites his tongue instead and wonders what has gotten into him.
The sign nailed to the gate surrounding the outdoor pool notifies Taehyung and Jungkook that the pool and hot tub hours have long since ended. It’s around ten o’clock at night, and the facilities are outside. Jungkook clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth when Taehyung taps his hotel keycard against the gate’s electronic lock.
Taehyung grins smugly when the gate opens with a beep and a flash of green light.
“What’s the worst thing that could happen?” Taehyung asks as he holds open the gate for Jungkook to pass through. “An employee will see us out here and make us leave.”
“They could kick us out of our room.”
Jungkook’s point is far-fetched in Taehyung’s opinion. He gives Jungkook a look, head tilted to one side, and his lips pursed. Either way, it doesn’t matter; Jungkook follows Taehyung past the large, in-ground pool to the hot tub on the far corner of the recreation area.
The hot tub is a lot fancier than Taehyung expected. It’s also in-ground, with decorative rocks and healthy foliage surrounding it to give it a secluded, tropical feel, like a hot spring. Taehyung takes the few steps that lead him into the hot tub while Jungkook turns it on. The bubbles rumble to life and the water’s temperature increases.
“Fuck, this feels so good,” Taehyung groans. He sinks until the water reaches past his collarbones.
Jungkook laughs and sits on the shelf lining the inner perimeter of the hot tub to serve as seats. The water only goes up to his chest, which is already flushing light pink from the heat. Taehyung keeps his eyes on Jungkook’s face.
“Tense?” Jungkook asks.
There are so many ways Taehyung could answer the one-word question. It bothers him because it shouldn’t be difficult. The answer is so obvious, so straightforward.
“Yeah,” Taehyung takes a deep breath and remembers that hot tubs always make his chest feel tight, “mostly my wrists and biceps. The vibrating impact of the drums really gets to me sometimes.”
“I can’t imagine performing like that so much,” Jungkook says with a shake of his head. “I feel bad. All I have to do is stand there.”
“You do more than just stand there,” Taehyung counters. “You get the crowd hyped, you fucking sing, Koo. Most people can’t sing like you. I know that takes a lot out of you.”
Taehyung doesn’t know why he’s getting so defensive over this. Maybe it’s because the steam of the hot tub and the thick summer air are making it hard for him to breathe. He moves to sit on the inner shelf like Jungkook, the water at his chest, and inhales until his lungs burn.
“Stop selling yourself short all the time,” he continues when Jungkook says nothing.
They stare at each other from across the hot tub. It isn’t big; Taehyung could reach Jungkook if he stuck his leg out and kicked him. He kind of wants to, for some reason. But the hot tub still gives them enough space to spread out. It’s good. They’re sitting close enough.
After a while, Jungkook snorts. He shakes his head slowly, eyes gliding from Taehyung’s face to stare off into the trees that line the perimeter of the property, hiding it away from the world around it. Taehyung thinks he’d like to be hidden, too.
“You have a really weird way of expressing affection. Do you know that, hyung?”
Taehyung sticks out his arms and flexes his wrists beneath the bubbling water. He forgot to take off his bracelets.
“Yeah. I know.”
Blood rushes in waves against Taehyung’s eardrums as Jungkook slips further into the water. He watches with silent, shallow breaths as Jungkook moves toward him, the water lapping at his chest.
Taehyung is just overheating from the hot tub.
“Want me to give you a massage?” Jungkook’s soft words get swept up by the roaring in Taehyung’s ears.
“It’s fine. I’m fine.” Taehyung rubs his hands together under the water and uses the moisture to slick his hair back.
Jungkook grins with the scrunched nose expression that makes Taehyung cave every time. It’s funny how Taehyung thinks he will do anything for Jungkook and the whole band, but the real things they want from him aren’t anything he wants to sacrifice his interests for. It makes sense in his head; he can’t be everything, but he can try. Just not right now.
The problem is, he thinks he doesn’t understand what Jungkook wants.
When Jungkook takes Taehyung’s hand in his own and begins massaging it, Taehyung lets out a long sigh and closes his eyes. Jungkook kneads the meaty part of Taehyung’s palm, just below his thumb. His muscles are sore and fatigued, but the pressure feels good.
“It’s the grip of the drumsticks that get me,” Taehyung speaks above the rush of blood in his head, even as it drains lower. “I think I’m gonna use my cut of the check to get a real massage.”
“Am I not good enough for you?”
Taehyung’s eyes are still closed, but he can hear the teasing tone in Jungkook’s voice. The question makes him feel bad anyway. “Koo, don’t do that to me.”
“Do what?”
Taehyung squirms slightly when Jungkook tugs on his fingers, releasing the tension within his joints. There’s so much he wants to say, but he can’t. His chest is still tight, and he still can’t look at Jungkook, even though when his eyes are closed, all he sees is Jungkook’s beautiful face.
Letting out a soft sigh, Jungkook shifts closer to Taehyung. His touch is soft, though powerful. Taehyung considers how true that is of Jungkook as a person.
“Talk to me, Tae,” he sounds patient, but it’s the kind of patience that’s barely keeping exasperation at bay, despite being rooted in it.
“What do you wanna talk about?”
Taehyung knows, but he needs Jungkook to start it. He wants to be the band’s protector, but the truth is that he isn’t brave. Jungkook was right; Taehyung runs.
Jungkook keeps Taehyung’s arm underwater as he moves on to massage his wrist. The warmth of the water and Jungkook’s soft, gentle hands feel so good. Taehyung still doesn’t open his eyes; he just basks in the unusual attention. He lets out a low groan when Jungkook’s hands eventually glide upward, thumbs digging into the tense muscles of his forearm. The closer he gets to Taehyung’s bicep, the more tingly Taehyung’s body feels. He tries to keep quiet, but Jungkook plays him like he knows exactly where to press and rub to make Taehyung feel like jelly under his touch.
Why is it making Taehyung hard?
Maybe it’s because of how intimate the sensations are, being rubbed down while smooth and wet, with the warmth of the hot tub’s bubbly water lapping at his body with each of Jungkook’s movements. Perhaps it’s because Jungkook’s leg presses against Taehyung’s. Or it’s because how Jungkook holds Taehyung’s arm makes his hand rest on the top of his bare thigh.
Maybe it’s none of those things.
“Please look at me,” Jungkook asks in a tone that makes Taehyung’s stomach drop.
Jungkook’s cheeks and chest are flushed light pink, matching his pretty lips, the bottom one pulled in by his teeth. His bangs are messy from the humidity the hot tub creates. They stick to his forehead in waves that complement the wolf cut he still hasn’t asked Jimin to get rid of. Taehyung shivers despite the warm water jets.
“Yeah?” Taehyung forces himself to meet Jungkook’s eyes.
“I can’t stop thinking about kissing you.” The look on Jungkook’s face makes Taehyung’s chest crack.
Taehyung’s heart jumps into his throat. He licks his lips, gaze dropping to Jungkook’s. God, he wants to say it. He wants to, so badly, to dig inside the rot that’s in his chest and grab hold of the brave part of himself buried away. It must be there.
“Fuck.” Taehyung smooths his hair back with the hand Jungkook isn’t holding. He shakes his head and lets out a dark laugh, something tainted with disbelief.
“Tae?”
“What are we doing?” Taehyung’s voice is a hoarse whisper.
Jungkook’s tongue finds his lip piercing, then the inside of his cheek. All pink-cheeked and glassy-eyed, he’s so endearing, so warm, so hot. Taehyung feels like he can’t breathe.
“Releasing pent-up tension?” Jungkook says with a rare smirk that makes Taehyung’s stomach flip.
Of course Jungkook would bring up that excuse again. Taehyung chuckles, his head tilting towards the sky as he chases a sudden breeze. When he faces Jungkook again, he watches him with a mixture of amusement and affection.
“You got jokes, huh?”
“I thought you’d probably need a laugh. You’ve been so fucking pouty ever since we hung out with Yoongi.”
“Shut up.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but Jungkook’s hand tightens around his bicep to keep him from shoving him away. “I haven’t been pouting. Jimin put that idea in your head, didn’t he?”
“Mhm.” Jungkook grins and bites his bottom lip.
“Not very punk of him to lie on his best friend like that,” Taehyung says, hardly knowing what’s coming out of his mouth.
Jungkook shrugs. “I don’t know. I kinda thought it was cute, you being all… protective.”
When Jungkook tugs Taehyung’s arm, the pressure is slight, yet Taehyung follows like it’s the easiest thing in the world to do.
“You know I don’t need it though, right?” Jungkook slides his hand up Taehyung’s bicep until he reaches his shoulder. His palm leaves goosebumps in its wake, making Taehyung’s skin tingle.
A sudden rush of warmth spreads from Taehyung’s groin upward, flooding his body as Jungkook grabs his shoulder to push him back against the wall of the hot tub. He inhales deeply and tries to blink away the sudden dizziness he feels.
“Need what?” he asks, and Jungkook giggles. It’s a sweet sound that doesn’t match the sensual slide of Jungkook’s arm around Taehyung shoulders. It takes all of Taehyung’s energy to focus on what Jungkook is saying and not only on his lips.
“Protection” — Jungkook’s tongue plays with his lip piercing — “because I can take care of myself.”
“Uh huh,” Taehyung nods through the throbbing of his cock and the fluttering in his chest. “Yeah, Koo.”
Jungkook tucks a strand of damp hair behind his ear. So coy, so deceiving. Taehyung can practically taste his words when Jungkook leans in and says, “You’re so hot when you get like this.”
Taehyung has no idea what “like this” means. It doesn’t matter.
Brave isn’t a word Taehyung would use to describe himself. But despite his nerves, he swallows his heart and leans in to capture Jungkook’s mouth, not waiting to be asked.
Any of Jungkook’s pleas are silenced with a bite of his bottom lip. Taehyung carefully avoids Jungkook’s piercing when he tugs on his lip with a low groan, sucking it into his mouth, and remembers he really fucking enjoys kissing Jungkook. He doesn’t care that Jungkook tastes like chlorine.
Jungkook follows the glide of Taehyung’s lips, and every one of his whimpers and sighs reverberates through Taehyung’s body. The heavy burden of fear blanketing Taehyung’s heart lifts as Jungkook climbs into his lap. Rather than drown, he feels anchored by the weight of Jungkook’s body. His hands find Jungkook’s waist to guide him as Jungkook straddles him. It must not be comfortable for Jungkook to have his knees pressed into the shelf around the hot tub’s inner walls so he can bracket Taehyung’s thighs, but he doesn’t seem to care.
“You’re already hard,” Jungkook murmurs against Taehyung’s swollen lips. The question sounds mocking, but Jungkook gives Taehyung a soft, adoring look when he leans back.
Is Jungkook actually asking him this question? Like as if he doesn’t already know exactly what kind of mess he turns Taehyung into?
“Yeah,” Taehyung’s voice comes out thick and gravelly. “I’ve been hard ever since you started giving me a massage.” His lips quirk faintly despite the heat surging through his body. “Is... is that a bad thing?”
Taehyung licks chlorine from his lips and keeps them parted as Jungkook wiggles his ass right on top of his cock. His breathing comes out ragged and loud enough to be heard over the hot tub’s bubbling jets.
Water splashes between them as Jungkook rolls his hips to grind against Taehyung. Their bodies slide with ease, slippery, wet, and hot. When Taehyung lets out a low moan, Jungkook smiles. “No, it’s not a bad thing.”
Having Jungkook’s weight in his lap feels good. More than good—it feels grounding. He chases the challenge of coaxing out Jungkook’s moans, just to feel the way Jungkook’s body tenses and trembles in response. Yet Jungkook beats him at his own game.
Jungkook digs his fingers in Taehyung’s hair, tugging on the wet strands and forcing Taehyung’s head whichever way he wants. Taehyung gasps as Jungkook’s teeth playfully drag along his bottom lip, catching it just long enough to suck before he dives back in even messier.
But then Taehyung breaks away, tipping his head back and sucking in the summer air. The reprieve of sparkling stars and a moment to breathe is short-lived. Jungkook’s mouth latches onto his throat with enough force that Taehyung knows the skin will bloom with a deep bruise. He sucks hard, his tongue swirling and lapping up water and sweat, making Taehyung’s skin pebble with pleasure.
“Tae.” The breathlessness of Jungkook's voice goes straight to Taehyung’s cock, twitching and straining painfully against his swim trunks, trapped under Jungkook’s weight.
“Koo,” Taehyung groans, “you said we gotta talk.”
“Oh, now you want to?” Jungkook murmurs against the curve of Taehyung’s ear. His breath is hot, teasing. “About what?” He flicks Taehyung’s earlobe with the tip of his tongue, drawing a sharp gasp from Taehyung. “About how badly I wish I could have you?”
Taehyung’s breath hitches. “Have me?” he asks through a shaky sigh, barely holding himself together as Jungkook’s lips close around his earlobe, nibbling it gently.
Fuck, Jungkook’s mouth.
“Yeah, have you” — Jungkook grinds down harder — “inside me.”
“Jesus Christ,” Taehyung hisses, his hips jerking upward.
Desire burns Taehyung so severely, searing him from the inside while the hot tub and Jungkook’s body heat boil him on the outside. He’s panting so hard he feels like he might pass out, not to mention how terribly his heart pounds in his chest. He keeps reminding himself, this is Jungkook. And, yeah, it is. That’s why Taehyung is so fucking hard.
“I can make you feel good,” Jungkook promises, just like he had when he swallowed Taehyung all the way to the base.
Jungkook isn’t one to break promises. Taehyung isn’t one to tell him no.
It’s desperate how they grind against each other, Jungkook bucking against Taehyung with enough force that their swim trunks ride up their thighs. The jets have long since shut off, bubbles dying down; Jungkook and Taehyung make their own waves with the slap of skin splashing water around their bodies.
Each roll of Jungkook’s hips drags his ass along the length of Taehyung’s cock. Taehyung is fully hard now, clearly outlined by the thin, clingy material of his swim trunks. He can feel it slide between Jungkook’s ass cheeks. It’s maddening, pure torture, especially when Jungkook grinds down harder on the head of his cock, paying special attention to the sensitive spot.
“Touch me, Tae,” Jungkook moans into his ear.
It’s not a plea this time—it’s a command, one Taehyung couldn’t ignore even if he wanted to. His hands slide down from Jungkook’s waist until they cup the curve of his ass. He squeezes a few times, admiring how firm the muscles are, how perfectly Jungkook fits in his palms like he was meant to.
Jungkook lets out a rough groan, his head falling forward onto Taehyung’s shoulder as Taehyung guides his movements, drawing them out. Each rut is deliberate now—slow, steady, dragging Jungkook’s ass from the tip of Taehyung’s cock to the base in lazy, torturous thrusts. Jungkook curls his arms around Taehyung’s neck and pulls their bodies flush together as he captures Taehyung’s mouth once again, moaning into him when one of Taehyung’s hands slides down the back of his swim trunks.
Taehyung keeps a hand firmly on Jungkook’s ass, pulling one cheek back so he can wiggle his other hand further down his shorts. “Tell me what you like,” Taehyung murmurs against Jungkook’s lips. His fingers only tremble slightly when he ghosts them over Jungkook’s hole. He's making a huge assumption about what exactly it is that Jungkook does like, but Jungkook's reaction tells him that maybe sometimes trusting his gut isn't the worst fucking thing in the world to do.
“That’s, wow—” Jungkook ducks his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck. His breath comes out in ragged bursts. “It feels so weird being on the receiving end of you talking like that.”
“Yeah? That mean you’re into it?” Taehyung smirks despite the frantic pounding of his heart. They’re crossing a line that there’s no coming back from, and Taehyung doesn’t care—not anymore.
Jungkook angles his hips to push back against Taehyung’s fingers. “Don’t tease me,” Jungkook scolds rather than begs. “Keep going.”
Maybe it’s surprising to some, but Taehyung has never tried anal before. He never saw the point; pussy is right there, and none of the girls he has been with had ever asked for it. So he doesn’t know shit about how wet Jungkook needs to be or if the warm water is enough to make it pleasurable for Jungkook when he pushes a finger inside.
“Fuck,” Taehyung exhales sharply, pulling his finger out to ease it back in again. “It’s so—”
“Warm, tight.”
Taehyung nods because he’s afraid of what sound might come out if he attempts to speak. His body shudders as Jungkook instructs him to add a second finger. He closes his eyes and imagines how good that initial tightness would feel around his cock, the pop of his tip through the ring of muscles. And then to be enveloped in the soft warmth that comes next. It’s different from what Taehyung has experienced before, but he thinks he’ll like it, especially because Jungkook is already moaning in his ear and he’s only using his fingers.
It’s just so fucking crazy, ending up here with Jungkook in his arms, his moist, warm breath mixing with the sweat beading down Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung hates sweating, but he can’t imagine leaving the hot tub, wants to spend eternity letting the pads of his fingers prune and his lungs struggle to breathe. It’s like the night on the dancefloor all over again, Taehyung hiding behind the shield of Jungkook’s body, chasing his heat to melt the insecurities that have formed a hard shell around him.
Not that Taehyung is smart enough to understand this about himself. Right now, he’s too focused on hesitantly crooking his fingers to feel Jungkook’s soft walls. Jungkook is nowhere near being delicate, but he feels like he is, at least here, in the part of himself Taehyung has never gotten to know. The longer Taehyung thinks about it, the more his fingers tremble.
“Are you okay, Tae?” Jungkook asks, leaning back to look at Taehyung. Jungkook sitting up forces Taehyung’s fingers out of him.
Shit, is Taehyung okay? Yeah, he’s totally fine. It’s not like he’s experiencing an entirely unknown part of his sexuality right now. It’s not like he’s doing exactly what he was afraid of doing, what his parents would despise him for, what he thinks he might have needed to do his whole life—or, at least for as long as he has known Jungkook. If this was anyone else, Taehyung isn’t sure he’d be okay with what’s happening. And honestly, he isn’t interested in finding out.
For some reason, it feels like it was always Jungkook. He deserves good things, doesn’t he? The real question is whether Taehyung is a good thing.
“I’m, uh—”
The beep of the pool gate blocks Taehyung’s words from tumbling out of him. They get locked in his throat, closed off while the gate clicks open and two voices carry over the still air. Taehyung isn’t brave enough to turn around. Instead, he watches Jungkook’s face as the two voices get closer.
There’s this little mole right under Jungkook’s bottom lip, in the middle of his chin. People rarely notice it. But when they do, it’s something to gush over, a cute little secret for the most observant people to unearth. Not like Taehyung, whose little freckles and imperfections are clear as day. Even the small scar along Jungkook’s cheek has a certain charm to it. It’s a reminder that there are things about Jungkook that Taehyung doesn’t know. What nervous tick did Jungkook have before he got his lip piercing? Did he run his tongue along the inside of his cheek? Still trace the curve of his bottom lip? Whatever it was, Taehyung is sure it would have made his stomach drop just the same.
“I think they’re coming over here,” Jungkook whispers, eyes still tracking the people walking through the recreation area.
If Jungkook was one of Taehyung’s groupies, he probably would have joked about putting on a show for whoever the guests are.
But Jungkook is Jungkook, and Taehyung is too afraid of making this real.
Taehyung drops his arms to his sides and squirms underneath Jungkook. “Let’s go back to our room,” he says. His words could sound like a proposition, but he says them in a breathy plea that makes Jungkook frown.
Even though Jungkook immediately gets up, they’re too late. The other hotel guests reach the hot tub right as Taehyung steps out of the water.
The old couple’s eyes ping-pong between Taehyung and Jungkook’s heated skin, reddened lips, and the blatant erections bulging their swim trunks.
“We’re leaving.” Jungkook snatches their towels from the small table beside the hot tub, tossing one to Taehyung before wrapping the other around his waist. Taehyung nearly misses the catch and the bottom half of his towel dips into the water.
“Fuck me,” Taehyung curses, not caring that the woman looks absolutely scandalized and his colorful language is probably making the situation worse.
It doesn’t matter; Jungkook is already booking it out of there, walking funny because he’s trying to hide his crotch. The poor kid has it way worse than Taehyung, who is wearing compression shorts under his swim trunks. The struggle of having a big dick, Taehyung figures. Swimwear is too revealing, the thin material always clinging around the crotch. Compression shorts make his dick print less obvious, but they also make it more painful when he gets hard in them.
At least Taehyung can walk normally. For as confident as Jungkook was back in the hot tub, he curls inward once they cross the threshold into the hotel. He waddles down the hall toward the elevators, his wet flip-flops squeaking against the tile floor.
Taehyung follows close behind him, nearly slipping in the puddle Jungkook creates while he waits for the elevator.
“You don’t gotta press the button so many times,” Taehyung teases.
Jungkook jams his index finger into the UP button and narrows his eyes at Taehyung. “You’re the one who wanted to get back to our room so bad.”
It’s definitely a dig, though Taehyung doesn’t understand why. He knows neither of them want some old people staring at them while Taehyung fingers Jungkook in the fucking hot tub. Holy shit.
“Koo,” Taehyung says with an exasperated sigh, “everyone can see.” You, Taehyung’s brain adds internally, and he doesn’t have time to wonder why he’s suddenly more worried about people ogling Jungkook in such a vulnerable position than himself.
Before understanding can click in his head, the elevator dings open and the last two people Taehyung wants to see step out.
“Oh, Jungkookie! Tae! We were calling you, but you both left your phones in the room.” Jimin does a little dance in the threshold, a side-to-side step that prevents the elevator doors from closing on them. Based on the light pink flush of his cheeks, Taehyung knows Jimin decided to pregame with Seokjin before leaving for the party.
Seokjin prefers to nurse a drink throughout the night, so his sober eyes stare at Taehyung with frightening clarity.
“Not interested in the hot tub anymore?” Seokjin asks.
Taehyung shrugs while Jungkook shakes his head, his frizzy bangs swaying across his forehead.
“Too hot.”
“And crowded.”
Jimin babbles about how pointless pool rules are when guests eagerly break them. No one is listening to him, but he doesn’t know that.
“Well,” Seokjin says, ushering Jimin out of the way and holding out his arm to stop the elevator doors, “answer your phones next time we call you.”
They don’t answer their phones.
Fic Masterlist
A/N: taehyung, hiding his face: i think i like boys.
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