Taekook Smuts and Drabbles

the way i fuck him

Squatting a two-hundred pound barbell becomes slightly more difficult when Jungkook's looking at him like that, one eyebrow raised, lips quirked. Unimpressed.

"The fuck you looking at?" Taehyung snaps, huffing out a breath as he tightens his gloved grip around the bar resting on his shoulders.

"You're not doing it right. You're bending too low."

"I know how to fucking squat, Jungkook." He raises himself to standing, trying not to wince. No need to amuse Jungkook even more. He already brags enough about the hundred pounds he can squat more than Taehyung.

"Obviously not."

Taehyung returns the barbell to the squat rack, exceedingly conscious of the way Jungkook's gaze travels over his ass and thighs. Unimpressed, again.

"I've been playing football longer than you were alive. Why are you always trying to give me advice?"

"You've been playing since you were two?"

"I came out of the womb playing football. Now shut the fuck up," Taehyung says as he starts another set.

Working out with only Jungkook is the last thing Taehyung wants to be doing. It's always hard to be around him with no one there as a buffer between them. The tension rises until it's suffocating. It's enough of a chore pretending to be civil during practice so Coach doesn't yell at them, not that Jungkook tries all that hard. But Taehyung had wanted to get an extra routine in today and stayed late, Coach tossing him the gym's keys and telling him to stay as long as he wanted if he locked up properly.

"I was planning on working out, too," Jungkook had chimed in, and that was that.

It doesn't help that the gym is small, the private one used only by the soccer team, and the mirrors that cover all of one wall mean Taehyung can't avoid looking at him no matter how hard he tries.

He's gritting his teeth and trying very hard to do just that while Jungkook squats on the other rack in front of him, ass pushing out farther than it needs to. He's doing it on purpose.

He's about to switch to deadlifts when Jungkook stops for a rest, lifting his arms to rest on his head so the hem of his loose tank top rises, revealing a strip of smooth skin. The jut of his hipbones makes Taehyung's mouth water. He looks up, catches Jungkook's challenging glance in the mirror.

"All right," he says, putting the barbell down. "What the fuck do you want?"

"Sounds like you're the one who wants something."

"I'm trying to work out, asshole."

"I'm not stopping you."

Taehyung glares at him suspiciously. He bends down, but before he even has his hands on the bar, Jungkook rubs his nose, free hand running down to scratch under the tank. It rises a little more, the divots of his abdomen on display. Taehyung's skin heats up. There's the faintest mark of a fading hickey just above his hipbone from the last time they fucked, desperate and furious in the locker room showers after Coach told Taehyung he was their star striker and Jungkook spent the rest of practice bitter and jealous.

Taehyung is by Jungkook in two long steps, fisting a hand in the collar of his tank top so he can drag him in for a kiss. It's messy, angry like it always is, and he can feel Jungkook grinning into it. This is what he wanted, after all.

"I fucking hate you," Taehyung says into his mouth, biting his lower lip and sucking on it until it swells.

"Saw you looking at me and Wonshik hyung today." Jungkook lets his head fall back so Taehyung can mouth at his neck, long, wet kisses. He makes sure the cool stud on his tongue drags hard against Jungkook's skin. "Were you jealous?"