it's too much. that's the thought that keeps going through jungkook's head, shooting through him like a jolt of something that borders on the over-sensitivity that he's just starting to become familiar with. it's too much, so much after going for a stretch of nothing, nothing but his own fingers, toys - wishing that he had something else, wishing that he had more. now more is right here. fucking into him again and again, unforgiving. so good. so good that jungkook can barely stand it.

and yet - and yet there's yoongi. yoongi's voice through his own erratic breathing, yoongi's hands, his fingers trailing over the length of jungkook's body. cradling the side of his face, grounding him, keeping him centered while the rest of him continues to wear him down, pull him apart, reduce him to nothing but the best feelings. it still seems surreal, even at times like this that it's happening. that it is yoongi, yoongi fucking him, yoongi touching him, yoongi murmuring those words right here as he jerks him off, makes jungkook cry out immediately at the touch because he can't hold it, not like this, not if his hyung is doing that. but yoongi knows. of course he does. he knows exactly what jungkook can do, knows how to push, so easy to trust. it's a matter of seconds before he would have lost the battle himself but jungkook doesn't have to worry about that. not when yoongi is giving him permission, telling him to let go, to feel good, and god - he does. feels so fucking good, all shaking thighs and wetness that finds its way down to his cheeks whenever he does come, crying out to let yoongi know just how good he's feeling, grasping to hold on tight to wherever he can reach, still needing yoongi to anchor him somehow.