TESSELLATE [TAEGI] 🔞

CHAPTER 7

Several hours and three-and-a-half bottles later, they've talked about everything from their shared childhood growing up in Daegu to Yoongi's thesis and Taehyung's vague plans to do an exhibit.

Taehyung feels himself relaxing more and more, and although they're not exactly cuddling, they're sitting quite closely—enough that their knees touch and Taehyung's wild hand gestures bump into Yoongi several times as he talks.

He'd normally panic, being so near him like this—so near those sweat-inducing pants—but the alcohol helps somewhat, makes the flurry of noise in his head settle into a gentle, comfortable hum that he can easily ignore.

Yoongi looks just as buzzed as he feels, his hair is all mussed, cheeks flushed prettily, with the faintest hint of a dopey smile on his normally aloof features.

The words slip out before his mind could stop himself.

"Has anyone ever told you how pretty you look?"

Taehyung nearly claps a hand to his betraying mouth when Yoongi shrugs in reply. "Sure, in varying degrees."

And that makes Taehyung choke on his drink.

He doesn't know what to chalk it up to; maybe it's Yoongi's quiet confidence, the way he just knows the effect he has on people but doesn't revel in it, or maybe it's because he's all too aware of where the compliments came from in the first place.

Taehyung has left plenty of those compliments himself, egging him on with dirty, unfiltered praises that replays in his head, clear as day.

You're so fucking sexy like this.

I love watching you spread your legs all wide for me.

Does it feel good, baby? Moan louder for me.

I love that lacy thong on you, want to fuck you while you're wearing this. Want to taste your tight little ass, loosen you up—

Taehyung has always been more shameless when it was all just anonymous comments from a stranger with no profile picture and an obscure username.

But that was well before Yoongi had moved in, before he had abruptly walked into his life—into his empty, two-bedroom dorm—and filled every nook and cranny with something far realer than livestreams, blurring the lines Taehyung carefully draws between them every single day.

It's tough to draw lines when Yoongi is everywhere all the time, with the thrums of hip-hop music faintly blaring from his room late at night, the immediate smell of his favorite coffee brewing in the morning, the way he always buys takeout for two even if Taehyung never asks, never questions or judges Taehyung's strange idiosyncrasies, and... Taehyung is weak.

He's weak, and he burns with want all the fucking time, and Yoongi is always, always treading the fine line between being his actual, honest-to-god friend and the camboy he can't help but fantasize over no matter how hard he tries to stop. This kind of mental torture should be declared illegal, as far as Taehyung is concerned.

Suddenly, he's painfully aware of just how close Yoongi is sitting. It sobers him up immediately.

"You think I'm pretty?" Yoongi asks quietly, and Taehyung's mouth goes dry.

Yoongi is eyeing him with an indecipherable look on his face, and he's standing close enough that Taehyung can feel the heat emanating off his body—that, or the temperature in the room has somehow upped by a thousand degrees, and the air is noticeably thicker, almost suffocating.

"I-I do," he finally answers, because fuck it, he's already so far gone that he's tired, tired of all this careful hovering and tiptoeing around what he should say or shouldn't say. "I...I always think you're pretty."

Yoongi definitely moves closer now. Taehyung knows this because he sees him take a step towards him. And apparently, that's all it takes for their faces to be mere inches apart, and if Taehyung breathed any harder, if he inhaled even the tiniest bit deeper, their chests would touch.

From this distance, he can count every lash framing Yoongi's eyes, suddenly all dark and heavy-lidded, anticipatory. Taehyung recognizes that look in his eyes, having seen it one too many times on his laptop screen, and he knows exactly what it means.

The mere sight of it in real life—just inches away from him—is enough to make his pants feel unbearably tighter.

"Have you thought that all this time?" Yoongi asks, even quieter this time.

Taehyung could only nod imperceptibly, because there's no point in denying it now.

"Good."

It's more of a breath than a whisper, and it turns into a small gasp when Taehyung closes what little distance they have left between them. He swallows the sound, pressing his trembling lips around the tiny rush of air, and it's the barest of touches, a tentative dip in dangerous waters, but it's there. It's happened, and there's no going back now.

Yoongi knows it too, because there's a pleased little smirk forming on his face. "About fucking time. I've been waiting for you to do that all night."

Taehyung feels a thrill rush down his back at this, and feeling much braver, he grins back. "Why? You think I'm pretty, too?"

"I think..." Yoongi curls his fingers around Taehyung's collar, eyes raking hungrily over the exposed skin peeking beneath the first two undone buttons. "You..." He pulls Taehyung closer. "Have been torturing me..." He licks his lips, and Taehyung can't tear his gaze away from Yoongi's tongue. "Every since I moved in."

Oh. Oh.

Something inside Taehyung finally snaps, like a rope stretched so thin that it's barely hanging on with the tiniest thread, and he lurches forward, capturing that smug smirk in an eager kiss.

It's surreal.

Taehyung has spent countless nights imagining Yoongi pressed against him this way, but none of it comes close to the real thing. It's everything he's ever pictured, from the way Yoongi's smaller body fits snugly against his chest, arm snaking around Taehyung's neck to pull him closer, his head tilting back so Taehyung can nip at his impossibly soft lips at a better angle. It's so good so soon, and he wants more.

Yoongi tastes like soju, but there's a sweet aftertaste that Taehyung chases, and he swipes his tongue into the seam of Yoongi's bottom lip, capturing the swell of it with his teeth and tugging. He hears a low growl from Yoongi's throat, and it ignites something dormant in Taehyung, and he lets go of what he's been holding back for weeks, feels the weight of it slip off his shoulders.

Taehyung deepens the kiss, slipping his tongue in Yoongi's already parted mouth, and the other boy kisses him back just as eagerly, licking against his exploring tongue with a hunger that makes Taehyung weak in the knees.

Taehyung could kiss him all night—he wants to keep drawing that sound from Yoongi with every delicious swipe of his tongue, until he learns the cadence of it like the back of his hand—but he's honestly torn between doing this and the distracting feeling of Yoongi's half-hard cock pressed against his thigh.

He's turned on too, but the thought of being able to arouse Yoongi like this with just a few minutes of kissing—without touching him—makes Taehyung's head spin in disbelief. It's different when it's one-sided, separated by a screen, and Taehyung all but takes from a distance. But this is real, this is now, and he feels Yoongi everywhere.