TAEGI SMUTS [ᵃᵒ3]

Hips, Your Lips, They're Mine

Ao3 by : Jiminssi_ifya (unamaga), unamaga

Summary :

It’s inevitable that Yoongi would find himself here at Taehyung’s door, not five minutes after the group had broken up to go back to their respective rooms.

He’s still in his stage outfit, hasn’t even taken his makeup off, but he couldn’t wait.

He’s keyed up, has been all night, and he knows Taehyung is well aware - they’re neither of them subtle enough to fool each other after so long together.

Juggling the bottle of champagne and two flutes into one hand, he slides his keycard into the door with the other and lets himself in.

Taehyung’s waiting just inside for him, already undressed to his boxers.

“More drinking?”

Yoongi turns his back to set his burdens down on the bar next to the door, lips curving into a private smirk.

“If you want.”

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(Note : The fic contains, D/S/;Dom/Sub Endearments. Please, refer the warning note at the end.)

It’s inevitable that Yoongi would find himself here at Taehyung’s door, not five minutes after the group had broken up to go back to their respective rooms.

He’s still in his stage outfit, hasn’t even taken his makeup off, but he couldn’t wait.

He’s keyed up, has been all night, and he knows Taehyung is well aware - they’re neither of them subtle enough to fool each other after so long together.

Juggling the bottle of champagne and two flutes into one hand, he slides his keycard into the door with the other and lets himself in.

Taehyung’s waiting just inside for him, already undressed to his boxers.

“More drinking?”

Yoongi turns his back to set his burdens down on the bar next to the door, lips curving into a private smirk.

“If you want.”

He expects the hand that slides around his waist and over his belt buckle, looks down to watch Taehyung’s long thumb curl underneath his waistband, delicate fingers splay out to cover his zipper.

Just that faint pressure is enough to fatten his cock in his briefs.

“I don’t want champagne.” Taehyung murmurs, his breath close, stirring the hair at Yoongi’s ear.

“I don’t think you want champagne either, do you, hyung?”

Yoongi leans back to let the sturdy shape of Taehyung take his weight.

“Not a drop.”

A soft hum, and, “Then I think you’re overdressed.”

It doesn’t take long for Taehyung to undress them both, despite the distraction of his gauzy, see-through shirt.

He’s only diverted for a moment, bending down to put his mouth to one of the sheer panels, tongue wet even through the fabric, before he’s back to tugging Yoongi’s belt free of his jeans and shoving the rest of their clothes off his body and onto the floor, kissing him fiercely.

“Impatient.” Yoongi teases, amused.

He’s not arguing with the pace, or with how Taehyung’s got him by the bare hip now, leading him back towards the unmade bed.