TAEGI SMUTS [ᵃᵒ3]

The Perfect Season

Ao3 by : kashmir, unamaga

Summary :

Yoongi’s breath catches in his chest at the daring touch of Taehyung's hand on his linen-clad hip, so close to the bare surface of his skin, closer than Taehyung has ever been before. A part of him wants to look down, to see the darker tone of Taehyung’s skin against the fine white cloth, as though somehow the vision would make the touch solid and real.

“You are bold,” Yoongi manages, weak-voiced and weak-kneed.

Taehyung’s eyes are deep and dark when Yoongi finds them, warmed now almost to a spark. “And you are beautiful.”

His broad palm skims just an inch down, to find the shape of Yoongi’s hip, thumb pressed to the jut of it. Yoongi is branded by it, by the weight and heat of that touch. He is dizzy, nervous, and Taehyung must see it in him.

“Is it I who owes you an apology now?” he asks. “Do I press too far?”

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The inn is a welcome blessing after the drizzling hours they’ve spent in the surrounding forests on horseback, and the tub of warm, perfumed water even more so.

Yoongi is never less agreeable than when his clothes are dirty and damp, his skin crawling with discomfort, and even as he recognizes his own folly, he is curt with Taehyung more times than he wishes to recall.

Taehyung leaves him to the tub and the fresh night shift set on the bed, giving him the privacy of their room to ease the strain of the day from his muscles, and Yoongi is grateful for the decorum.

Despite their shared chambers, dictated by the size of the inn itself, and despite the sweet kisses they’ve exchanged since their mutual declarations, Taehyung is not one to impose himself on Yoongi unnecessarily.

His prince is a gentleman, Yoongi has learned over the course of their courtship.

By the time he is content and relaxed again, the water has nearly lost all of its heat. He hadn’t intended to be so long. It’s only by chance that he’s just managed to slip his night shift on when the knock comes announcing Taehyung’s return.

Though it feels a bit silly to say it to a prince, who surely can go where he wills in his own kingdom, Yoongi calls, “You may enter,” because he knows Taehyung will stand on the other side of the door for an eternity if he does not.

Yoongi’s earlier bad temper seems forgotten, Taehyung bearing a warm smile and warmer eyes once he’s closed the door to their room behind himself.

“Feel better?”

Yoongi nods, biting at his lower lip.

“Much, thank you again for the privacy,” Yoongi’s hands flutter nervously as Taehyung settles in one of the chairs in the corner to take off his riding boots, suddenly all too aware that he’s only wearing a thin linen shift and that the bed is much, much smaller than he had initially realized. “I would like to apologize for earlier. I was out of sorts and, even though I was cross, you did not deserve to be treated so poorly.”

“The offense was forgiven before you committed it,” Taehyung says kindly, looking up from his task.

“Surely you know I admire that you treat me so candidly despite my station, Yoongi.”

“Candid is quite different than being snapped at by a grown man acting as if he is naught but a petulant young child merely because his cloak is wet,” Yoongi insists.