Maybe Yoongi doesn't want to admit just how effective that suggestion was. Maybe it's a little too much to wrap his head around at the moment, especially when his dick is doing most of the thinking, everything filtered through his own arousal. Maybe he doesn't know if Jungkook is just continuing to tease him for the sake of teasing him. Maybe he wants Jungkook to work for it more, show him how serious he is about getting fucked by his hyung. Maybe it's all of that, to some degree. But Yoongi doesn't let any of it show. He's used to keeping his doubts and desires concealed underneath a calm demeanor, a far cry from the passion that erupts from the moment he sets foot on stage.
But this isn't a stage right now, and he's not Suga, not Yoongi the rapper, the composer, the writer the leader of the pack. Right now he's just Min Yoongi, 25 years old and crammed into a shitty bathroom stall, needing any sort of relief from this tension that's been brewing for far too long. He's allowed to have his privacy in the form of this locked door, and he'll damn well do whatever he pleases behind it. His breath hitches ever so slightly as Jungkook suddenly takes his thumb in his mouth, laving at it with a few quick strokes of his tongue. Yoongi doesn't pull away, doesn't look away from those big fucking eyes--doesn't know if he could even if he wanted to. He simply lets the younger boy suck at his skin, the little show and Jungkook's insistent touching more than getting him the rest of the way there.
By the time he's released, Yoongi's straining against his boxers, precum beading at the tip, and he kind of wants to just fuck Jungkook's mouth right then and there. He also really fucking wants that tongue over every inch of him. "Go on," he drawls, voice thick from arousal and that same lazy attitude from before. His satoori just peeks through as he gives Jungkook an even clearer set of instructions. "No more hands."
no subject
But this isn't a stage right now, and he's not Suga, not Yoongi the rapper, the composer, the writer the leader of the pack. Right now he's just Min Yoongi, 25 years old and crammed into a shitty bathroom stall, needing any sort of relief from this tension that's been brewing for far too long. He's allowed to have his privacy in the form of this locked door, and he'll damn well do whatever he pleases behind it. His breath hitches ever so slightly as Jungkook suddenly takes his thumb in his mouth, laving at it with a few quick strokes of his tongue. Yoongi doesn't pull away, doesn't look away from those big fucking eyes--doesn't know if he could even if he wanted to. He simply lets the younger boy suck at his skin, the little show and Jungkook's insistent touching more than getting him the rest of the way there.
By the time he's released, Yoongi's straining against his boxers, precum beading at the tip, and he kind of wants to just fuck Jungkook's mouth right then and there. He also really fucking wants that tongue over every inch of him. "Go on," he drawls, voice thick from arousal and that same lazy attitude from before. His satoori just peeks through as he gives Jungkook an even clearer set of instructions. "No more hands."