The kid knows exactly how to tell it. Yoongi can picture it clearly, the longing, the restraint. They're as vivid as the obscene words he adores hearing from Jungkook, who's only grown more confident with each of their sessions together. "Very good," he approves, voice silk smooth and low with want, even as his hands continue languidly, propelled by little else than Jungkook simply being near. Existing here. They've already established that Yoongi doesn't need a reason to touch him, that touching isn't always a means to an end--sometimes it really is just the slope of his back, that tight waist, those generous thighs that silently call to him like a siren's song. Jungkook is just so fucking pretty.

Sometimes, however, like tonight, there most certainly is an end. Though, Yoongi would like to think of it as a beginning, something he's been patient with for the past several weeks. If there's one thing he's learned with all his sugar babies, it's that patience always wins out in the end. Yoongi hadn't laid a hand on Jungkook at all in the first month, only undressed him when Jungkook had grown out of his mind with anticipation, begging to be touched. None of that would have happened without trust or time. If Yoongi hadn't given Jungkook the freedom to consider new boundaries for himself, without any fear of judgment.

The closer Yoongi got during that slow dance, the more Jungkook offered himself up for the taking. And Yoongi gladly, fiercely took--all except for one thing.

"And what were you thinking about, jerking off?" Yoongi continues calmly, as though he's getting a second opinion on dinner, as if he's asking about how a photography project turned out for class. It's as natural as the way he starts feeling Jungkook up through the damp spot in his briefs, standing right there in the main living room with the curtains drawn back and his work blazer still on.