friendship rule number one: don't imagine how amazing your best friend's cock would feel inside you. except that's all you can think about after accidentally discovering taehyung's kink for panties. specifically, the lacy ones you're so fond of wear...
a/n: this is the laundry scene from taehyung's perspective!
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Of all the things Taehyung expected himself to be doing tonight, fisting his cock in a hand, your panties scrunched hastily in the other is certainly not one of them.
"Fuck," he gasps, breath sporadic and choppy, running hot against the cool air. He's hunched over the side of his bed, not daring to lean against the shared wall for fear the rattling will give him away. But it just might anyway; the noise is unstaunchable from the desperate way he's sliding his hand across his shaft, the head dark crimson with urgency and desire. His mind is a whirlwind, a swirling disaster of illicit fantasies and morals that he's tried—and failed—to teach himself over the years.
Damn it.
His fingers clench tighter, drag him closer.
Five minutes ago, he'd been innocuously sorting through laundry.
Four minutes ago, he touched lace. When he pulled out the skimpy panties in pure cream, he was forced to strangle a longing groan. It just had to be this pair that made their way into his lap. The pair he first caught a glimpse of at a high school party, thanks to a skirt that fluttered a bit too high on a suddenly (blessedly) windy night.
How many times did he attempt to forget the sight? But his mind clung stubbornly to the image of how the underwear hung on your hips, hugging your body in a way that made him jealous it wasn't his hands there instead. A memory only reinforced by incidents in the years following – shorts a bit too loose, tiny bikini bottom ties coming undone, white dresses that become sheer when soaked... You became torture in its most sinful, beautiful form.
And if that night of video games and junk food a few days ago has taught him anything, it's that the hold you have on him is still undeniable. Taehyung clamps down on his bottom lip, his cheeks aflame as he smears pre-cum over his cock. Moans force their way out anyway, longing twisted into every exhale. He's thinking about how your shirt rode up, exposing the smooth skin, the honey that undoubtedly lies between your thighs. Does he dare let himself believe you had done it on purpose? That you want him just as much as he does you?
His hand slows.
He doesn't want this to end.
There was a time Taehyung thought other women could distract him, occupy his mind space and for a while, it worked. But here he is now, crushing the lace that's more enticing than anyone he's ever touched before, more than anyone he's ever seen. Just imagining your cunt against the underwear makes his shaft jerk and stiffen in his hand. He thinks about your wetness clinging to the fabric, just waiting to be licked up; he wonders what turns you on to that point.
"You're so damn gorgeous," he mumbles, mind delirious with a dream of you opening the door right now, discovering him, joining him. You would insist on being a tease, tracing your way up his thighs with just fingertips in that infuriatingly coy way. Even on your knees, you wouldn't hold back from having your fun.
Taehyung's thumb rubs across the underwear, his other on his frenulum. The bed creaks as he leans back, sweat beading across his forehead. The you he's conjured leans over him, straddles him with a minx-like smile. You cup his cheeks and whisper his name before sinking down, engulfing him in the heat of your tight little cunt. Wrapped around him like a good girl, you'd be drenched, so slick that it'd be easy for him to hilt in a few thrusts. He'd let you take the lead for the first while, riding him with your hair scattered, a lovely mess that's proof of how undone you are. But he knows he wouldn't be able to resist from fucking you back with sudden, powerful thrusts against your core. He can almost hear your surprised bubble of laughter before it turns to heady moans.
Your laugh. God, your laugh. A sound not even close to music; more like an unabashed roar, endlessly infectious and adorable in its utter mirth. A sound he would gladly spend his life listening to.
This is the dangerous urge he's never acknowledged, not even to himself, though he was made aware of its presence since that very first kiss. He's a coward, he knows. He let fear rule back then, and he still lets it dominate now. Too afraid to let himself want, even though he's touched himself to the thought of you so many damn times it's irrefutable.
Fuck. Just the thought of how you would smile, speared on his cock. He wants to kiss it off your lips, then coax it back with another roll of his hips. Now he's furtively fucking into his hand, losing all sense in the chase of climax in your name. He chants the precious syllables in supressed groans. He's close, chest heaving, dreaming of how you'd come undone with him. Lip bites, guttural groans, bedroom eyes. Amazing.
Finally, Taehyung yanks his hand from his lap. Shoving the lace in his face, he takes a deep inhale of your scent and comes. In this tenuous moment, swathed in your sweetness, Taehyung forgets his reservations. He breathes in you like air, practically tasting you on his tongue. He bucks off the bed, back arching, muscles tensing as his fingers try to mimic what your cunt would feel like milking him for everything and more.
But all good things can never stay for long.
His slowing fingers elongate the climax as much as he can, but it's never enough. His butt hits the bedsheets with a soft thud. He is left with a pool of cum on his stomach, a sense of guilt settling into the chest that rattles with his thrumming heart.
He definitely shouldn't have done that.
Not only is it a violation of your trust, using your intimates like this, but it brings up everything he thought he'd hidden away for good. And... This one taste only makes him greedy for more.
Taehyung lets the lace unfurl in his palm. He stares at it in silence. Really, this is probably just an accident. You didn't notice, and so the underwear just got mixed in with his stuff. That's the only rational explanation that lets things stay the way they are. Roommates, best friends. He knows that's where your relationship shines, and his asinine lust (that's what this must be) shouldn't be the thing to ruin it.
And so he reaches for a tissue, drags it across his tummy to soak up the evidence of transgression. He readjusts his bottoms, hides his softened cock inside. He gives the lace one last fond squeeze before standing. He has to return them. Having them here would be too much of a temptation, one he knows he can't resist.
Every step to the door feels heavy, but he forces himself to take them. You'll forget about it tomorrow, he tells himself. Everything will go back to normal, because you're just horny right now.
But in twenty seconds, his eyes will fall upon you casually spread on your bed in your favorite hoodie, hair in a messy bun, bare faced and glowing like his sun. All he'll want to do is press kisses to your neck, your cheek, and hear you giggle from one of his silly jokes. He'll want to make any excuse to close the distance between you even if just for a few seconds. Because no amount of lying to himself can ever mask the truth: Taehyung's heart has always been yours.
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