jungkook can't think about much of anything beyond how uncomfortable it is, and how it only seems to be growing more and more uncomfortable by the second. the longer that he's aware of it the worse that it is, and jungkook can't help it, can't help himself, can't keep from squirming around uselessly on the bed even when yoongi is looking at him, even after he knows that he's gotten his attention. maybe if he were a little more aware in general, a little more able to focus, he would have realized the confusion and concern in yoongi's expression, maybe he would have been able to communicate himself. but it's hard, and it's even harder whenever yoongi is touching him, because all jungkook wants to do is press into it, all he wants to do is sink into it, get more of it, and he can't help himself, can't keep from pressing closer into yoongi's hand, nuzzling his cheek against it until yoongi pulls it away and swallowing back the whine that wants to come up whenever he does so.
the good thing is that yoongi can understand him, at least in some way. yoongi doesn't hesitate to help him, and jungkook lets him, lets yoongi help him out of his clothes, damp with sweat. it's a momentary relief to have them off, the air of the room feels good on his flushed skin and it feels even better to have his cock free from the confines of his underwear, good enough that it pulls a sound almost like a soft whimper from his throat as yoongi continues on, moves around the room enough to switch on the light, gets up to cross over near the door and turn on the fan. it offers a little bit of relief, the coolness of air over his skin a little bit of something at least, for a few moments. jungkook just finds himself shifting around again, until he winds up on his back, limbs spread out against the bedsheets, starting to breathe a little bit quicker, a little bit heavier than usual.
he doesn't say anything else. at least not until yoongi pauses by the door like that, not until he's stopped and staring at him, saying his name, asking him that question. jungkook looks over at him, and it's easier to focus on yoongi like this, without the darkness blanketing the room and making it hard to see clearly. it sends a pang of something like want clenching hard in his stomach, has him squirming all over again, thighs pressing together like that's going to help somehow. it doesn't do much. his cock is still hard, almost impossibly hard, flushed an angry red and straining against the flat of his stomach, already leaking precum regardless of the fact that he hasn't been touched, hasn't even touched himself. he knows what's happening, of course he does, but yoongi is the one who's able to put the words to it when he asks that question. maybe if he was more aware, maybe if his mind was less hazy, less clouded over he would feel guilty, embarrassed, apologetic, any of those things for suddenly waking the both of them up like this. but as it is he's powerless to do much of anything but just feel, the sensations insistent and mounting by the second, a kind of desperation that's practically a living thing inside of him, clawing at him, demanding attention. regardless of the haze jungkook still manages to answer yoongi's question in the form of a nod, a soft whimper following before he stammers out, "so hot, yoongi... hurts," his voice curling into a whine around the syllables.
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the good thing is that yoongi can understand him, at least in some way. yoongi doesn't hesitate to help him, and jungkook lets him, lets yoongi help him out of his clothes, damp with sweat. it's a momentary relief to have them off, the air of the room feels good on his flushed skin and it feels even better to have his cock free from the confines of his underwear, good enough that it pulls a sound almost like a soft whimper from his throat as yoongi continues on, moves around the room enough to switch on the light, gets up to cross over near the door and turn on the fan. it offers a little bit of relief, the coolness of air over his skin a little bit of something at least, for a few moments. jungkook just finds himself shifting around again, until he winds up on his back, limbs spread out against the bedsheets, starting to breathe a little bit quicker, a little bit heavier than usual.
he doesn't say anything else. at least not until yoongi pauses by the door like that, not until he's stopped and staring at him, saying his name, asking him that question. jungkook looks over at him, and it's easier to focus on yoongi like this, without the darkness blanketing the room and making it hard to see clearly. it sends a pang of something like want clenching hard in his stomach, has him squirming all over again, thighs pressing together like that's going to help somehow. it doesn't do much. his cock is still hard, almost impossibly hard, flushed an angry red and straining against the flat of his stomach, already leaking precum regardless of the fact that he hasn't been touched, hasn't even touched himself. he knows what's happening, of course he does, but yoongi is the one who's able to put the words to it when he asks that question. maybe if he was more aware, maybe if his mind was less hazy, less clouded over he would feel guilty, embarrassed, apologetic, any of those things for suddenly waking the both of them up like this. but as it is he's powerless to do much of anything but just feel, the sensations insistent and mounting by the second, a kind of desperation that's practically a living thing inside of him, clawing at him, demanding attention. regardless of the haze jungkook still manages to answer yoongi's question in the form of a nod, a soft whimper following before he stammers out, "so hot, yoongi... hurts," his voice curling into a whine around the syllables.