“Hoseok, I think our girl needs a reminder of where exactly she belongs.”
You knew that tone of voice anywhere, the one you’d heard so many nights before, when pinned down against cotton sheets, sighs of ecstasy echoing off of the bare walls as you were brought to the edge of bliss by two pairs of hands instead of one.
“I think you’re right hyung.” Hoseok agreed all too eagerly, stepping off of the bed to pull his shirt over his head in one clean move, and your mouth watered at the sight of honeyed skin coming into view, lean muscles begging to be kissed by your mouth; to be covered in marks made by you.
Yet by the look they both held, you knew you were far from getting your way tonight.
“Would it help if I said I was sorry?”
Your timid question was met with breathy chuckles by both men, lips forming into a pout at the way they completely brushed off your question.
Yoongi reached out, pinching your bottom lip between his thumb and index finger, leaning forward so the only thing in your line of sight was his hardened eyes, cold and promising punishment.
“No, it really wouldn’t. Not until you meant it.”
Too abashed by his words, you didn’t register Hoseok placing himself on the bed once again, leaning back against the wooden headboard made of old oak and full of dents and flaws, yet he made the visual look all the more beautiful to you when you turned to take in the sight of him.
His hands were placed behind his head, chest still bare and ripped jeans hugging his thighs in a way that had your own pressing closely together, and the smirk that suddenly adorned his face let you know that he’d noticed your sad attempt at being subtle.
“Look at me.” Your chin was gripped rather harshly by Yoongi as he turned your attention back on him, you watched his tongue peek out to run along the edge of his lips, making the pink flesh glisten and the urge to feel his lips on yours increase tenfold; leaning forward thinking that maybe he’d be lenient on you.
What a stupid thought.
He stood up, forcing your head back with the tightening grip on your chin - fingers pressing into your jaw and setting fire to your bones - until you were staring up at him through widened eyes.
“Do you remember your word?” His adams apple moved with every syllable spoken, a silent chill running up the base of your spine at how simply he spoke the sentence to you.
There was only one time Yoongi ever asked if you remembered your word, and that was when shit was going to get intense and you were knowingly going to be pushed to your limits.
You didn’t exactly know if you were ready for that, ready for them, but the guilt weighed heavily onto your shoulders, in your heart, and you somehow knew that this is what all three of you needed to move on from all the trouble you had caused.
“Y-Yes, Yoongi.”
“Good.” He took a step away from you, urging a low sound of protest to crawl its way up your throat, which he carefully ignored, choosing to look over your shoulder instead at a pair of eyes that stared back just as eagerly.
Hoseok eyed Yoongi with interest, watching a fire burn in the older man’s eyes, a look that had him hardening instantly in the tight confines of his jeans. He knew what ensued with that look, what it meant, and he’d blissfully been on the receiving end of it a few dozen times.
It never ceased to cause his breath to hitch in his throat, sounds to emit from his lips that only progressed in volumes as the night went on.
But tonight was about you, not him. So Hoseok just nodded in a silent agreement, knowing exactly what his hyung was trying to say; convey to him within the silence. Are you with me?
