TESSELLATE [TAEGI] 🔞

CHAPTER 4

Taehyung likes to think he's excellent under pressure.

So instead of focusing on his homework that's due in a couple of hours, he finally gives in and opens an incognito tab. He stares at the blank page for a few minutes, chewing on his bottom lip as he goes through the usual motions of his internal debate.

It almost feels like a crime to scroll through Gloss'—no, Yoongi 's—livestream account these days, as though he hasn't already been doing this for months. But there is a very fine line between watching a hot stranger fuck himself on camera and watching his way-hotter-in-person roommate fuck himself on camera. There must be some kind of unspoken moral code against that.

Taehyung wildly thinks that he must have fallen into some kind of real-life porn situation, like when innocent pizza boys knock on doors and they're greeted by the hot homeowner who offers them a blowjob instead of paying.

It's decidedly not as fun and convenient as all those porn videos suggest.

For one thing, Yoongi is his friend.

A very real, very attractive friend who sleeps next door and kindly restocks the fridge with strawberry juice even if he never drinks them. A friend who offers to buy him lunch sometimes because he's his hyung, and it's a thoughtful thing to do. A friend who loves music and introduces him to underground hip-hop artists and complains about normal, everyday, relatable things like his heavy workload.

For another, Taehyung just doesn't want to make things weird. Yoongi is a great guy—a sweet, beautiful, ridiculously perfect guy—and Taehyung would probably harbor an equally intense crush on him anyway, had they met in different circumstances.

And it's getting harder and harder to separate the two: Yoongi, his quiet and reserved roommate who makes him laugh without even trying; and Gloss, the hot-as-fuck camboy who makes him come harder than he ever has in his life.

As much as he tries not to confuse the two sides of Yoongi that he secretly knows, they bleed into each other far more than Taehyung would like.

It's instances when Yoongi would start talking and he unconsciously bites on his bottom lip, and Taehyung has to force himself to look away instead of thinking how Gloss does the exact same thing when he's stretching himself open. Or when he goes on one of his rants and starts making complicated gestures with his hands, and Taehyung has to physically stop himself from groaning out loud when he stares at those nimble fingers for too long.

It's exhausting to be so hyper-aware of every little thing Yoongi does, and really, the other boy must think that Taehyung is slow in the head with the way he's always caught in his thoughts then jumping in his seat every time Yoongi shows up.

It's all just pent-up sexual frustration. He just needs a release, to let out some steam, and it'll be fine. Everything will go back to normal.

Taehyung's finger hovers over his mouse, staring intently at the empty incognito tab, and he lets out a tiny wail. He can't do this, he can't be this person.

So he determinedly slams his laptop shut, tossing it aside and falls back onto his pillows, squinting into the darkness for a handful of minutes as he tries to pull himself together. His hand slips into his boxers, wrapping around his limp cock, and starts stroking.

For a few moments, he thinks of all the nameless people—the strangers he's hooked up with before—and it doesn't really do anything, and he groans with frustration. He can't get himself hard if he's picturing... well, nothing really.

He throws his head back, shutting his eyes tightly, and tries to imagine someone hovering over him, wrapping their fingers around his wrists and pinning him to the bed so he can't move even if he tries.

Almost there, and Taehyung's mind immediately wanders, thinks of pale skin glowing in the moonlight, with large hands that roughly grab at him, strong enough to hold him down but feel so soft to the touch— and... fuck.

His eyes quickly fly open, and he shakes his head, trying to push away what he knows is coming next.

It's close, but not quite enough to get him there, and Taehyung curses under his breath in annoyance.

He tries again, deeper breaths this time. He can do this. He's gotten off by himself dozens of times before without having to think of anyone in particular, and he can do it again.

Compartmentalize.

Taehyung starts off slower this time, building the tension he knows he likes. He swipes a thumb over the head of his cock, rubbing the sensitive tip until he's finally, finally gasping with pleasure.

His other hand trails down his chest, as he thinks of a pair of hands ghosting over his skin, carefully memorizing every inch like a map. Taehyung's eyes fall shut on their own accord, and he arches into his hand, stroking up and down his hardening length at a languid pace until his mind stops incessantly buzzing and all he could think about is the low hum of pleasure steadily filling his veins.

Taehyung grips himself tighter, and when he thumbs down harder into the slit of his cock, he lets out a low hiss. There, right there. He spreads his legs, feels the precome forming at the head and god, fucking finally. He coats his fingers until they're wet and flicks his wrist with just the right amount of pressure, twisting after every upward stroke, and he groans louder because yes , there we go.

He lets his mind drift off, focusing on nothing else but the movement of his hand around his hard length, gripping and stroking just right that he loses himself in the sensation. He traces a finger down a particularly sensitive vein, pulsing just under his skin, and he can't stop the broken sound that slips from his throat.

In his haze, he thinks of a pink tongue darting out to taste him, shyly swiping over the wetness and Taehyung's hips rise higher, into the warmth of the faceless stranger's mouth. The other's ministrations feel so fucking good, all teasing yet eager, and Taehyung can't stop bucking into it, wants to feel that warmth all around him. He gasps as a hand firmly presses into his hip bones to steady him, but it's too good , and there's a deep and low growl from somewhere—"Baby, you need to behave"—and he whines, because none of this is enough.

His other hand reaches out to fist through the other's hair; the strands are unbelievably soft to the touch, a stark shade of black against Taehyung's skin—and somewhere, in the very far back of his head, he knows this is dangerous, this is getting too far, too vivid for his liking—but the stranger's tongue on his swollen head is too talented, overcoming all of Taehyung's senses before he can stop himself.

"M-more," Taehyung pleads, and he can feel a smile forming around his cock, though he ignores it in favor of pushing the stranger's head down his length. The sensation is incredible, warmth and wetness around his cock, and when the stranger hollows his cheeks as he expertly bobs up and down Taehyung's length, it's far too much—he's going to come way too soon.

"F-fuck, fuck—Yoongi, please... let me come," Taehyung begs. He should stop—he definitely should, but the thrill of something so forbidden yet so raw, so unadulterated pulses in his veins, and he can't stop himself from thinking of Yoongi's eyes filled with lust, gazing up at him while he sucks hard—and Taehyung pumps himself harder, faster.

Oh fuck. Fuck.

"Say it again," the voice demands, and it's distinctly rougher and raspier this time. Familiar. "Say my name when you come for me."

Somewhere, he knows he's veering into dangerous territory. He knows he shouldn't, but Yoongi's name instinctively slips out of his parted lips like a litany.

Almost on cue, like a reward for being so good, Taehyung feels a wet, tight mouth completely envelope his length, cheeks hollowing and a tongue pressing on the sensitive underside, and that's all it takes.

The last thing Taehyung imagines before he comes is Yoongi's sharp, dark eyes and a flash of a smug smile just for him.