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"Stop staring at me like that," Taehyung muttered, pressing the cold soda can against his flushed cheek. The summer heat clung to them both, but Jungkook’s gaze was hotter.
Jungkook leaned back on his elbows, grass tickling his forearms. "Like what?" he asked, all faux innocence. The sun caught the smirk playing on his lips—the same one he’d worn since they were kids, the one that always made Taehyung’s stomach flip.
It wasn’t fair. Jungkook had been a menace since they were eleven, all big eyes and boldness, trailing after Taehyung like a shadow. Back then, Taehyung had patted his head and called him cute. Now, at nineteen, Jungkook’s gaze lingered too long, his hands found excuses to brush Taehyung’s waist, and that damn smirk—Taehyung wanted to wipe it off his face. Or maybe kiss it away. The thought made him crush the soda can harder than necessary.
“You know exactly what,” Taehyung said, tossing the crumpled metal into the grass. He rolled onto his side, putting his back to Jungkook, but he could still feel the weight of that stare between his shoulder blades. The air was thick, not just with humidity but with something unspoken, something Jungkook had been dangling in front of him for years, taunting him with it.
A hand slid around his waist, too warm, too familiar and Taehyung stiffened. Jungkook’s breath ghosted over the nape of his neck, lips brushing the shell of his ear as he murmured, "You always run away." The words vibrated against Taehyung’s skin, low and teasing, the same way Jungkook had whispered secrets to him under blankets at sleepovers when they were kids. Except now, the secrets were dirtier, the touches deliberate. Taehyung swallowed hard.
He twisted away, knocking Jungkook’s arm aside.
"Cut it out," he hissed, but his voice cracked.
The rejection sounded weak even to his own ears. Jungkook just grinned, unfazed, rolling onto his back with his arms pillowed behind his head. The sun painted gold across his throat, his collarbones, the lean lines of his torso where his shirt had ridden up. Taehyung’s gaze snagged there, just for a second before he forced himself to look away.
"You’re such a hypocrite," Jungkook said, laughter threading through his words. "You don’t want me to look, but you can’t stop looking either." He stretched, deliberately slow, muscles flexing under honeyed skin. Taehyung’s fingers dug into the grass. He remembered Jungkook at fourteen, all elbows and knobby knees, grinning up at him with a mouthful of braces. Back then, Taehyung had ruffled his hair and called him kid. Now, Jungkook’s body was all sharp angles and coiled strength, and the way he looked at Taehyung, like he wanted to eat him alive, made his pulse stutter.
"You’re still a kid," Taehyung lied, rolling his eyes. He sat up, dusting grass off his shorts. "And I’m too old for this."
Jungkook’s grin didn’t waver. He propped himself up on one elbow, his fingers plucking a blade of grass just to tear it lazily in half.
"Too old?" he repeated, voice dripping with amusement.
"Two years isn’t a gap, Tae. It’s a speed bump."
He flicked the torn grass at Taehyung’s thigh, watching it land just above his knee. Taehyung swatted it away like it burned, but Jungkook didn’t miss the way his breath hitched, the way his fingers lingered for half a second too long on his own skin.
Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose.
"It’s not just the age," he muttered, lying through his teeth.
Because what else could he say? That he’d spent years memorizing the curve of Jungkook’s smile like it was scripture? That he still remembered the exact shade of Jungkook’s cheeks when he’d scraped his knee at twelve and tried not to cry in front of him? That every time Jungkook looked at him like this, Taehyung’s throat went dry with something that tasted like guilt and want tangled together?
Jungkook’s eyes darkened, just a fraction. He reached out, slow enough that Taehyung could’ve stopped him, and traced a single fingertip along the inside of Taehyung’s wrist.
"Then tell me what it is," he murmured.
"Because I know you feel it too."
The pad of his thumb pressed against Taehyung’s pulse point, and Taehyung’s traitorous heartbeat leapt under his touch.
Taehyung jerked his hand back. "It’s—" He faltered, scrambling for an excuse that didn’t sound pathetic. "You’re my best friend’s little brother." The words came out too loud, too desperate. Jungkook blinked, then burst out laughing, a rich, warm sound that curled around Taehyung’s ribs and squeezed.
Jungkook's laughter faded into a slow, knowing smile, the kind that made Taehyung's skin prickle with anticipation.
"Best friend's little brother," he repeated, rolling the words around like they were a joke only he understood.
"You've been using that excuse since I was fifteen, Tae. Doesn't it get old?"
His fingers brushed Taehyung's knee, featherlight, lingering just long enough to make Taehyung's breath stutter.
Taehyung shifted, putting another inch of space between them, but Jungkook only followed, relentless.
"It's not an excuse," Taehyung said, voice tighter than he intended.
"It's a fact."
He hated how defensive he sounded like he was trying to convince himself more than Jungkook. Because the truth was, he had spent years pretending Jungkook was just a kid, just his best friend's annoying little shadow. But the way Jungkook looked at him now, like he knew every one of Taehyung's weak spots made it impossible to lie convincingly.
Jungkook hummed, low and teasing, and stretched out beside him, close enough that Taehyung could feel the heat radiating off his skin. "Funny," he murmured, "because I remember you holding my hand when I was scared of thunderstorms at twelve. Letting me sleep in your bed at fourteen when I had nightmares." His fingers traced idle patterns on the grass between them, close enough to Taehyung's thigh to make his muscles tense.
"You never treated me like just your best friend's brother then."
Taehyung's throat went dry. He remembered those nights too well, Jungkook curling into his side, all soft breaths and trust, so different from the sharp, confident man beside him now.
"That was different," he muttered, but the protest sounded weak even to his own ears.
Jungkook's fingers brushed Taehyung's knee again, firmer this time, tracing the curve of his kneecap with deliberate slowness. Taehyung inhaled sharply, the sound swallowed by the cicadas buzzing in the trees overhead. He remembered Jungkook at sixteen, cheeks still round with youth, staring up at him with those stupidly big eyes after Taehyung had fixed his bike chain. "Hyung, you're the coolest."
Back then, Taehyung had laughed it off, just a kid's admiration.
Now, Jungkook's touch burned through his shorts like a brand.
"You're impossible," Taehyung muttered, but his legs didn't move away.
Jungkook's smirk widened. "You love it." He shifted closer, grass rustling under his weight, until their shoulders brushed. Taehyung could smell the sunscreen on Jungkook's skin, the faint citrus tang of it mingling with summer sweat. Too close. Always too close these days.
The memory hit Taehyung like a punch, Jungkook at seventeen, drunk on soju stolen from his brother's fridge, pressing a sloppy kiss to Taehyung's jaw in the backseat of a car. "You taste like mint," he'd slurred, all hot breath and clumsy hands before Taehyung shoved him away, heart hammering. He'd chalked it up to teenage impulsiveness. But Jungkook had looked at him the next morning like he remembered every second.
Taehyung exhaled sharply through his nose, fingers digging into the grass beneath him. Jungkook's proximity was unbearable, the way his body heat seeped through the scant inches between them, the way his fingers traced idle patterns on Taehyung's knee like he owned it.
"You're relentless," Taehyung muttered, but his voice lacked its usual bite.
Jungkook's grin was all teeth, sharp and unrepentant.
"You say that like it's a bad thing."
He shifted, rolling onto his side to face Taehyung fully, propping his head up on one hand. The sunlight caught the gold in his eyes, turning them liquid and warm, the same eyes that had looked up at Taehyung with childish adoration a decade ago. Except now, there was nothing childish about the way Jungkook's gaze dragged down Taehyung's body, slow and deliberate.
Taehyung's pulse kicked up, traitorous and loud. He remembered Jungkook at fifteen, all clumsy limbs and braces, tripping over his own feet to follow Taehyung around the neighborhood. Back then, Taehyung had laughed it off, just a kid with a hero complex. But Jungkook wasn't a kid anymore. The proof was in the way his shoulders filled out his tank top, the way his thighs flexed when he moved, the way his voice dropped into something low and teasing when he said,
"You used to let me cling to you like a koala. What changed?"
"Everything," Taehyung snapped, but it was a lie.
The truth was, nothing had changed, not really. Jungkook had always been there, persistent and bright, weaving himself into Taehyung's life until Taehyung couldn't remember a time without him. The difference was, now Jungkook's touches lingered. Now his smiles were loaded. Now Taehyung couldn't pretend he didn't notice.
Jungkook's fingers curled around Taehyung’s wrist before he could pull away fully, his grip firm but not unkind.
"You keep saying 'age difference' like it's a canyon," he murmured, thumb pressing into Taehyung’s pulse point, steady, insistent.
"Two years, Tae. That’s it. You’re not some ancient relic, and I’m not some kid sneaking into your bed after nightmares anymore."
His voice dropped, rough at the edges, the way it always did when he was toeing the line between teasing and something darker.
"Unless you’re into that."
Taehyung’s breath hitched, his traitorous body reacting before his brain could catch up. He yanked his arm back, but Jungkook only smirked, undeterred, stretching his legs out until their knees knocked together. The contact sent a jolt up Taehyung’s spine, familiar and foreign all at once. He hated how well Jungkook knew him, how he could dismantle Taehyung’s defenses with a single glance, a single touch. Like he’d spent years memorizing the blueprint of Taehyung’s reactions, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The worst part? He had.
"You’re impossible," Taehyung muttered, but the words lacked heat. Jungkook had been a constant in his life for so long; eleven years old and grinning with a missing tooth, fifteen with his voice cracking mid-sentence, seventeen with his hands shaking around a stolen bottle of alcohol. Taehyung had seen every awkward phase, every stumble, every moment of vulnerability. And now Jungkook had the audacity to sit there, all broad shoulders and knowing smirks, like he hadn’t once cried into Taehyung’s shoulder over a scraped knee.
Jungkook’s fingers didn’t retreat. Instead, they slid higher, tracing the inside of Taehyung’s forearm with a touch so light it shouldn’t have burned but it did. Taehyung’s skin prickled, the ghost of Jungkook’s breath against his ear still lingering like a brand.
"You remember my first crush?" Jungkook murmured, voice honey-thick with nostalgia. Taehyung stiffened. Of course he remembered. Jungkook at thirteen, red-faced and stammering, confessing to some girl in their class who’d laughed in his face. Taehyung had held him while he cried afterward, promising him she wasn’t worth it.
Jungkook’s thumb pressed into the delicate skin of Taehyung’s wrist.
"Took me three years to realize it wasn’t her I wanted to impress," he said, lips quirking.
"It was you."
The confession hung between them, weighted and undeniable. Taehyung’s stomach twisted. He remembered Jungkook at sixteen, showing up at his doorstep with a black eye after punching some senior for calling Taehyung a slut. The way Jungkook’s hands had shook when Taehyung dabbed at the blood on his lip not from pain, but from the way Taehyung’s fingers lingered.
"You were a kid," Taehyung muttered, but the words tasted hollow. Jungkook wasn’t a kid anymore. The proof was in the way his fingers tightened around Taehyung’s wrist, the way his eyes darkened with something far too knowing.
"And now I’m not," Jungkook countered, shifting closer until their thighs pressed together. Taehyung could feel the heat of him through the thin fabric of his shorts, relentless and suffocating.
"So stop pretending."
Taehyung exhaled sharply, the sound swallowed by the cicadas buzzing in the trees overhead. Jungkook’s fingers were still tracing slow circles on his wrist, a maddening rhythm that made his pulse stutter.
"You were a child," he said, voice strained.
"That wasn’t— it wasn’t real."
Jungkook’s laughter was soft, warm, the kind that used to make Taehyung ruffle his hair when they were kids. Now it curled low in his stomach, dangerous.
"You really think I didn’t know what I wanted?"
His thumb pressed harder against Taehyung’s pulse point, a silent challenge.
"I used to watch you tie your shoes before soccer practice and get hard in my shorts pathetically."
The admission was blunt, crude, and it sent heat crawling up Taehyung’s neck. Jungkook smirked, leaning in until his breath ghosted over Taehyung’s jaw.
"Guess some things never change."
Taehyung jerked back, but the grass was slick under his palms, and Jungkook followed effortlessly, caging him in with one arm braced beside his head. The sun haloed Jungkook’s dark hair, catching the gold in his eyes, eyes that had once looked at Taehyung with childish adoration and now burned with something far more adult.
"You’re disgusting," Taehyung muttered, but his voice cracked on the last syllable.
He remembered Jungkook at fifteen, cheeks flushed from summer heat, stealing glances at him across the pool while Taehyung pretended not to notice.
Back then, he’d chalked it up to awkward puberty.
Now, Jungkook’s gaze was calculated, deliberate, stripping Taehyung bare without even touching him.
Jungkook’s free hand settled on Taehyung’s hip, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to brush bare skin. Taehyung shuddered, the touch branding him.
"You keep saying that," Jungkook murmured, "but your body disagrees."
His palm slid higher, calloused fingers skimming Taehyung’s ribs, and Taehyung’s breath hitched. Jungkook grinned, victorious.
"Remember when you taught me how to swim? Twelve years old, and I spent the whole lesson staring at your back muscles."
His fingers dug in, possessive.
"I came home and jerked off thinking about your hands on my waist."
Taehyung's breath caught in his throat as Jungkook's fingers pressed harder into his skin, the memory of that swimming lesson flooding back with embarrassing clarity, how Jungkook had clung to him in the shallow end, all wide eyes and shaky limbs, pretending to be afraid of the water just so Taehyung would hold him tighter.
At the time, Taehyung had laughed it off, patting his damp head and calling him "such a baby."
Now, Jungkook's smirk told him the truth: he'd been playing a long game, and Taehyung had been the oblivious mark.
"Stop," Taehyung muttered, but his hips arched traitorously into Jungkook's touch. The rejection lacked teeth—always did when it came to Jungkook.
Jungkook chuckled, low and knowing, his thumb tracing the jut of Taehyung's hip-bone.
"You never told me to stop before," he murmured.
"Not when I crawled into your bed after nightmares. Not when I hugged you too long at graduation."
His fingers slid higher, teasing the hem of Taehyung's shirt.
"Not even when I kissed you drunk that one time."
Taehyung had shoved him away as soon as he felt Jungkook's soft lips against his own, heart hammering, blaming the alcohol. But Jungkook had looked at him the next morning like he remembered every second, like he would do it again sober.
The air between them crackled, thick with unsaid things. Jungkook’s fingers still hovered at the edge of Taehyung’s shirt, his touch branding even through the fabric. Taehyung’s pulse thundered in his ears, loud enough that he was sure Jungkook could hear it, could feel it under those calloused fingertips that knew him too well.
"You kissed me because you were drunk," Taehyung said, voice rough. A weak defense.
Jungkook’s grin was all sharp edges, his teeth glinting in the sunlight. "And you kissed me back for three seconds before you panicked." He leaned closer, his breath hot against Taehyung’s jaw. "I counted."
Taehyung’s stomach twisted. He remembered the mildly sour taste of grape flavoured soju on Jungkook’s lips, the way his hands had fisted in Taehyung’s shirt before he’d shoved him away. Three seconds.He’d lied to himself for years, pretended it didn’t matter.
Jungkook’s fingers trailed higher, skimming the edge of Taehyung’s ribcage with a touch that burned despite the summer heat.
“You’re so predictable,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.
“Always running, always denying.” His thumb pressed into the dip of Taehyung’s waist, just above the waistband of his shorts—a place he’d touched a hundred times before, but never like this. Never with intent.
Taehyung swallowed hard, the memory of Jungkook at fourteen flickering behind his eyelids—smaller then, softer, grinning up at him with a mouthful of braces after Taehyung had bought him ice cream. "Hyung, you’re the best.”
Back then, it had been easy to ruffle his hair and call him a kid but now, Jungkook’s touch was anything but childish, his fingers tracing patterns Taehyung couldn’t ignore.
“Stop,” Taehyung muttered, but his body betrayed him, arching slightly into Jungkook’s hand.
Jungkook laughed, warm and rich, the sound vibrating against Taehyung’s skin. “You don’t mean that.” His lips brushed Taehyung’s ear, closer than they’d been in years, closer than they’d ever been sober. “You never have.”
Taehyung jerked back, but the grass was slick under his palms, and Jungkook followed effortlessly, caging him in with one arm braced beside his head. The sun haloed Jungkook’s dark hair, catching the gold in his eyes, eyes that had once looked at Taehyung with childish adoration and now burned with something far more adult.
"You are unbelievable," Taehyung muttered, but his voice cracked on the last syllable. He remembered Jungkook at fifteen, cheeks flushed from summer heat, stealing glances at him across the pool while Taehyung pretended not to notice. Back then, he’d chalked it up to awkward puberty. Now, Jungkook’s gaze was calculated, deliberate, stripping Taehyung bare without even touching him.
Jungkook’s free hand settled on Taehyung’s hip, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to brush bare skin. Taehyung shuddered, the touch branding him.
"Until when will you keep saying that," Jungkook murmured, "when your body begs to differ" His palm slid higher, calloused fingers skimming Taehyung’s ribs, and Taehyung’s breath hitched. Jungkook grinned, victorious.
"Remember when you taught me how to write in English?."
His fingers dug in, possessive.
"I came home and jerked off thinking about how pretty and warm your hands were against my own."
Taehyung's breath caught in his throat as Jungkook's fingers pressed harder into his skin, the memory of that English lesson flooding back with embarrassing clarity, how Jungkook had refused to let his hand go, all wide eyes and pouty lips, pretending to not understand just so Taehyung would hold his hand to guide his letters better. At the time, Taehyung had laughed it off but now, Jungkook's smirk told him the truth: he'd been playing a long game, and Taehyung had been the oblivious mark.
"Stop," Taehyung muttered, but his hips arched traitorously into Jungkook's touch. The rejection lacked teeth, it always did when it came to Jungkook.
Jungkook chuckled, low and knowing, his thumb tracing the jut of Taehyung's hip-bone.
His fingers slid higher, teasing the hem of Taehyung's shirt.
"Even when you tell me to stop, I know that you don't mean it because you are weak to me"
"You know that you can never say no to me, right?"
The air between them crackled, thick with unsaid things. Jungkook’s fingers still hovered at the edge of Taehyung’s shirt, his touch branding even through the fabric. Taehyung’s pulse thundered in his ears, loud enough that he was sure Jungkook could hear it; could feel it under those calloused fingertips that knew that Jungkook was right.
" That's because you're my best friend's little brother," Taehyung said, voice rough. A weak defense.
Jungkook’s grin was all sharp edges, his teeth glinting in the sunlight. "And yet you still kissed me back for three seconds before you panicked." He leaned closer, his breath hot against Taehyung’s jaw.
Taehyung’s stomach twisted.
He’d lied to himself for years, pretended it didn’t matter.
Yet Jungkook always seemed to know just what to say, to unravel him like he wanted.
Jungkook’s fingers trailed higher, skimming the edge of Taehyung’s ribcage with a touch that burned despite the summer heat.
“You’re so predictable,” he murmured, his voice thick with amusement.
“You're never gonna admit that you have feelings for me, are you?”
His thumb pressed into the dip of Taehyung’s waist, just above the waistband of his shorts, a place he’d touched a hundred times before, but never like this. Never with intent.
Now, Jungkook’s touch was firm , manly...like he knew exactly what to do, like he had practiced his touches on Taehyung, his fingers tracing patterns Taehyung couldn’t ignore.
“Stop,” Taehyung muttered, but his body betrayed him, arching slightly into Jungkook’s hand.
Jungkook laughed, warm and rich, the sound vibrating against Taehyung’s skin. “You don’t mean that.” His lips brushed Taehyung’s ear, closer than they’d been in years—closer than they’d ever been sober. “You never have.”
Taehyung exhaled sharply, the sound swallowed by the cicadas buzzing in the trees overhead. Jungkook’s fingers were still tracing slow circles on his wrist, a maddening rhythm that made his pulse stutter. "You are still a kid," he said, voice strained. " You don't know what you want"
Jungkook’s laughter was soft, warm, the kind that used to make Taehyung ruffle his hair when they were kids. Now it curled low in his stomach, dangerous. "You really think I didn’t know what I want?" His thumb pressed harder against Taehyung’s pulse point," I just told you that I jerked off to the memory of your hands on mine and you think that's not a sign?." The admission was blunt, crude, and it sent heat crawling up Taehyung’s neck. Jungkook smirked, leaning in until his breath ghosted over Taehyung’s jaw.
Taehyung jerked back, but the grass was slick under his palms, and Jungkook followed effortlessly, caging him in with one arm braced beside his head. The sun haloed Jungkook’s dark hair, catching the gold in his eyes—eyes that had once looked at Taehyung with childish adoration and now burned with something far more adult.
"You’re disgusting," Taehyung muttered, but his voice cracked on the last syllable.
He remembered Jungkook at fifteen, cheeks flushed from summer heat, stealing glances at him during lunch with their friend group, while Taehyung pretended not to notice. Then, it would have been easier to assume that Jungkook was only looking but now, Jungkook’s gaze was grown, calculated, deliberate, stripping Taehyung bare without even touching him. Something that made fire spark in every nerve ending of Taehyung's, yet he still would never admit that he actually did like Jungkook like that.
It would be hard to ignore feeling lust, love and everything in between for a boy he had been treating like and taking care of like his own little brother.
Jungkook’s free hand settled on Taehyung’s hip, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt to brush bare skin. Taehyung shuddered, the touch branding him.
"Do you want me to touch you?" Jungkook asked and Taehyung blushed.
Of course he wanted Jungkook to touch him but he would never admit it, or so he thought because Jungkook's fingers ran up his ribs to stop over his pebbled up nipples, caressing them just to make Taehyung twitch in his hold.
" Say it and I will."
His palm slid higher, calloused fingers skimming Taehyung’s ribs, and Taehyung’s breath hitched again.
Jungkook grinned, victorious.
The cicadas screamed in the trees overhead, a sound Taehyung had heard a thousand summers before—but never like this, never with Jungkook’s breath hot against his neck, his fingers mapping Taehyung’s ribs like he owned them. "You remember my first kiss?" Jungkook murmured, lips brushing Taehyung’s earlobe.
Taehyung stiffened. Of course he remembered. Jungkook at sixteen, grinning with split lips after some girl at a party had pulled him behind the gym. Taehyung had pretended not to care, pretended his stomach hadn’t twisted when Jungkook came back smelling like strawberry lip gloss.
Jungkook’s teeth grazed Taehyung’s pulse point. "I closed my eyes and imagined it was you," he admitted, voice rough. The confession punched through Taehyung’s ribs.
"That’s—" Taehyung’s throat clicked. Pathetic, he wanted to say. But the word crumbled under the weight of Jungkook’s palm sliding up his stomach, callouses catching on his skin.
Jungkook's fingers curled tighter around Taehyung’s wrist, his thumb pressing into the delicate blue veins beneath his skin—the same way he’d done when they were kids, except back then it was to keep Taehyung from running ahead too fast. Now, the touch burned. "You remember my first bike?" Jungkook murmured, lips hovering dangerously close to Taehyung’s ear. "You held the back of the seat the whole time, even though I kept wobbling."
Taehyung swallowed. He remembered—Jungkook at nine, knees scraped raw from falling, beaming up at him like Taehyung had hung the moon just for teaching him how to balance. Back then, Jungkook’s admiration had been simple, sweet. Now, the way Jungkook looked at him made his skin prickle with something far more complicated.
"You were a baby," Taehyung muttered, but his voice lacked conviction.
"And you were my role model. I wanted to be like you," Jungkook countered, dragging his nose along Taehyung’s jawline.
The casual intimacy of the gesture sent a shudder down Taehyung’s spine—too familiar, too much like all the times Jungkook had clung to him as a child, except now his hands weren’t innocent. Now they lingered on Taehyung’s waist, fingers slipping under his shirt to trace the dip of his hipbone.
Taehyung’s breath hitched. He remembered Jungkook at thirteen, eyes wide and wet after a nightmare, crawling into Taehyung’s bed like it was second nature. Back then, Taehyung had wrapped an arm around his shoulders without thinking, murmuring reassurances until Jungkook’s breathing evened out. Now, Jungkook’s fingers traced the same path along Taehyung’s ribs, but there was nothing innocent about the way they lingered, dipping under the hem of his shirt to tease bare skin.
"You’re silly," Taehyung muttered, but his fingers curled into the grass instead of pushing Jungkook away. The contradiction burned under his skin. He remembered Jungkook at sixteen, grinning up at him with a bloody lip after a fight Taehyung hadn’t asked him to start.
"He called you a whore," Jungkook had said, like that explained everything. Like Taehyung was worth the split knuckles and suspension. Back then, Taehyung had scolded him through the lump in his throat.
Jungkook’s lips brushed Taehyung’s earlobe now, a deliberate mimicry of all the casual touches Taehyung had dismissed over the years.
"You used to let me cling to you," he murmured, teeth grazing the shell of Taehyung’s ear. His hand slid fully under Taehyung’s shirt, palm scorching against his stomach.
"What’s different now?"
Everything. Nothing.
Taehyung’s throat tightened. He remembered Jungkook’s first crush, some girl in their homeroom—how he’d practiced his confession in Taehyung’s bathroom mirror for hours. The way his face had crumpled when she laughed. Taehyung had held him afterward, pretending his own chest didn’t ache with something he couldn’t name.
The cicadas screamed in the trees overhead, a sound Taehyung had heard a thousand summers before—but never like this, never with Jungkook’s breath hot against his neck, his fingers mapping Taehyung’s ribs like he owned them. "You remember when I told you about my first wet dream?"
" It was about you by the way", Jungkook says, grinning.
"That’s—" Taehyung’s throat clicked. He wanted to say how wrong it was for Jungkook to have wet dreams of his hyung. But the words dissolved when Jungkook’s palm slid fully under his shirt, calloused fingers mapping the dip of his waist like he’d done it a thousand times before. Maybe in his head, he had.
The cicadas screamed louder, drowning out Taehyung’s shaky exhale. Jungkook’s touch was fever-hot against his skin, relentless as the summer sun. Taehyung remembered Jungkook at fourteen; all knobby knees and too-big shirts watching him lace up his cleats before soccer practice with those stupidly wide eyes. Jungkook’s fingers dug into his hipbone with a possessiveness that left bruises.
Jungkook's thumb traced the curve of Taehyung's bottom lip; slow, deliberate just like he'd done when they were kids and Taehyung had fallen asleep mid-movie. Except back then, Taehyung had swatted him away with a groggy , "Quit it, brat."
Now, the touch lingered, Jungkook's eyes dark with intent as his fingertip caught on the soft part of Taehyung's lip.
"You still bite your lip when you're nervous," Jungkook murmured. The observation was casual, but his voice dipped low, intimate. Taehyung hadn't even realized he'd been doing it.
"You did it during your high school finals. During your driving test." His thumb pressed down, just enough to still the nervous habit.
"When I kissed you drunk that first time."
"Stop," Taehyung muttered, but it came out breathless, weak. Jungkook's grin was predatory, his fingers sliding from Taehyung's lip to his jaw, tipping his face up. The sun haloed his stupidly pretty eyelashes, catching the gold flecks in his eyes, eyes that had once looked at Taehyung with childish awe and now burned with something far hungrier.
Jungkook’s fingers tightened on Taehyung’s jaw, his thumb still pressing into the softness of his lower lip—a touch that felt more like a brand than a caress.
"You keep saying stop," he murmured, voice dripping with amusement, "but your mouth keeps lying."
His other hand slid fully under Taehyung’s shirt, palm scorching against the taut skin of his stomach. "Your body never could, though."
Taehyung’s breath hitched. He remembered Jungkook at twelve, tripping over his own feet to follow him to the convenience store, clutching a crumpled allowance in his fist just to buy Taehyung a soda he didn’t ask for. Back then, Jungkook’s devotion had been endearing, something to pat on the head and laugh off. Now, it was a wildfire, relentless and consuming. "You don’t know what you’re doing," Taehyung managed, but the words lacked conviction. Jungkook’s smirk widened, his fingers tracing the ridges of Taehyung’s abs with deliberate slowness.
"Funny," Jungkook breathed, leaning in until their noses brushed.
"Because I remember you letting me cling to you at fourteen when I was ‘scared of the dark.’"
His fingers dipped lower, teasing the waistband of Taehyung’s shorts.
"You think I didn’t know exactly what I was doing even then?"
The admission was a grenade tossed between them, obliterating Taehyung’s last flimsy defense. He remembered those nights, Jungkook’s trembling hands clutching his shirt, the way he’d press closer under the guise of fear.
Fuck.
Had he been hard against Taehyung’s thigh even back then?
Taehyung’s pulse roared in his ears. Jungkook’s lips ghosted over his cheekbone, a mockery of innocence.
"You used to tuck me in," he murmured, breath hot against Taehyung’s skin.
"Brush my hair out of my face when I pretended to be asleep." His teeth grazed Taehyung’s earlobe, sharp enough to make him shudder.
"I used to jerk off to the memory of your hands on me."
The cicadas' drone faded into white noise as Jungkook's fingers trailed higher up Taehyung's ribs, pausing just beneath the swell of his pectoral.
"You remember my first soccer trophy?" Jungkook murmured against the shell of Taehyung's ear, lips brushing skin still damp from summer heat.
His thumb circled Taehyung's nipple through the thin fabric of his shirt—slow, deliberate.
"Twelve years old, and you lifted me onto your shoulders after the game like I'd won the fucking World Cup."
Taehyung's breath stuttered. He remembered—Jungkook's skinny legs dangling against his chest, grass-stained knees knocking against his collarbones. The way Jungkook had clung to his hair with sticky fingers, grinning down at him like Taehyung held the sun in his hands. Back then, it had been easy to laugh it off, to call him kid and ruffle his sweat-damp bangs but now, Jungkook's touch burned through the cotton separating them, his palm cupping Taehyung's chest with a possessiveness that left no room for denial.
"You're impossible," Taehyung muttered, but his back arched into the contact, betraying him. The grass prickled against his nape where Jungkook had pinned him, blades sticking to his sweat-slick skin.
Jungkook chuckled, the vibration traveling from where his chest pressed against Taehyung's side.
"You said that when I stole your hoodie at fifteen, too."
His teeth grazed Taehyung's earlobe, sharp enough to make him gasp.
"Still slept in it every night for a month."
The admission shouldn't have sent heat pooling low in Taehyung's stomach, shouldn't have made his fingers clench in the grass where they'd been trying (failing) to push Jungkook away.
Jungkook's fingers stilled against Taehyung's ribs, his breath hitching when Taehyung finally grabbed his wrist—not to push him away, but to keep him there, suspended between them like a question mark. The cicadas screamed in the trees, louder than Taehyung's racing thoughts.
"You remember my first fight?" Jungkook murmured against the damp skin behind Taehyung's ear. His lips curved into a smile when Taehyung shuddered. Of course he remembered; Jungkook at fourteen, bloody-nosed and triumphant after decking some upperclassman who'd called Taehyung a slut behind the gym. Back then, Taehyung had scolded him through the lump in his throat, pressing ice to his swollen knuckles while Jungkook beamed up at him like he'd won something.
"Stop," Taehyung breathed, but his grip on Jungkook's wrist loosened.
Jungkook chuckled, the sound vibrating through Taehyung's chest where they pressed together.
"You say that even when your body is begging for me to touch you, too."
His free hand traced the hem of Taehyung's shirt, fingers slipping beneath to map the dip of his waist.
"It's not like I'm the only one that wants this, you know I'm right"
The cicadas screamed louder as Jungkook’s thumb pressed insistently against Taehyung’s bottom lip, the same way he’d done at thirteen after Taehyung had scraped his knee falling from playing basketball , except now there was nothing innocent about the pressure.
"You remember when you taught me how to play?" Jungkook murmured, lips brushing Taehyung’s temple.
His breath smelled like the watermelon gum he’d been chewing since they were kids, sweet and familiar.
"Guided my hands to dribble the whole time, even when I stumbled."
Taehyung remembered, Jungkook’s knobby knees, his lanky limbs, the way he’d turned to beam at Taehyung like he’d hung the moon. Back then, it was easier to adore Jungkook's fascination with Taehyung, calling his little touches innocent but with how Jungkook’s fingers traced the seam of Taehyung’s lips with a reverence that burned now, it was indeed true to Taehyung that Jungkook was now a grown man.
One that knew exactly what he wanted.
The cicadas pulsed louder in the trees, drowning out Taehyung's shaky exhale as Jungkook's thumb pressed harder against his lower lip—not enough to hurt, just enough to make his pulse stutter.
"You were a child," Taehyung repeated weakly, but Jungkook just laughed, the sound curling low in Taehyung's stomach like smoke.
"Not anymore" Jungkook countered, fingers tightening around Taehyung's wrist. His palm was calloused against Taehyung's skin, rough from years of guitar strings and basketballs, nothing like the soft hands of the kid who'd clung to him after nightmares.
"You keep saying my age like it matters," he murmured, leaning in until his breath ghosted over Taehyung's mouth.
"But you never had a problem when I followed you everywhere or when I kissed you."
His teeth grazed Taehyung's jaw, sharp enough to make him shudder.
"You're relentless," Taehyung muttered, but his hips arched traitorously when Jungkook's knee slotted between his thighs. The friction sent heat licking up his spine, familiar and terrifying.
Jungkook's knee pressed harder between Taehyung's thighs, the rough fabric of his jeans dragging against Taehyung's shorts in a way that made his breath catch.
"Relentless?" Jungkook echoed, lips curling around the word like he was savoring it.
His free hand slid from Taehyung's wrist to his hip, fingers digging in with possessive intent.
"You used to call me persistent when I was fourteen and followed you to the arcade every weekend."
Taehyung's stomach twisted. He remembered, Jungkook's too-big sneakers scuffing the pavement behind him, his pockets jingling with quarters he'd saved just to watch Taehyung play. Jungkook's current gaze on him burned hotter than the August sun, his thumb tracing the jut of Taehyung's hipbone like he'd mapped it a thousand times in his head. (He probably had.)
"You were a young," Taehyung gritted out, but his voice cracked when Jungkook's fingers slipped under the waistband of his shorts, calloused fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of his lower stomach.
Jungkook laughed, low, rich, the same laugh that had once made Taehyung's chest swell with pride when he'd coaxed it out of him as a kid. Now it curled darkly in his gut, dangerous.
"And you used to let me sit in your lap at sixteen when I 'got tired' during movie nights."
His teeth grazed Taehyung's earlobe, sharp enough to sting.
"Don't pretend you didn't notice me hard against your thigh."
Jungkook’s fingers stilled against Taehyung’s hipbone—not retreating, just pausing—as if he could sense the fracture in Taehyung’s resolve.
"You used to let me braid your hair at sleepovers," he murmured, lips skimming the shell of Taehyung’s ear.
The memory was a landmine: Jungkook at thirteen, knees pressed to Taehyung’s spine as he fumbled with pink elastics, grinning when Taehyung complained about the tugging.
"You’d complain, but you never told me to stop." His thumb circled the divot of Taehyung’s navel now, a mocking parallel.
"Why start now?"
Taehyung’s breath shuddered out. He remembered those nights—Jungkook’s clumsy fingers in his hair, the way he’d pretend to fall asleep against Taehyung’s back just to linger. Back then, Taehyung had chalked it up to childish affection. Now, Jungkook’s touch burned with intent, his palm sliding lower until Taehyung’s shorts strained at the seams.
"Because you’re not thirteen anymore," Taehyung snapped, but his hips jerked involuntarily when Jungkook’s fingers dipped beneath his waistband.
Jungkook’s laugh was honey-dark, his teeth scraping Taehyung’s pulse point.
"No," he agreed, pressing closer until Taehyung could feel the hard line of his erection through their clothes.
"Now I know exactly what to do with you."
The words punched through Taehyung’s ribs, unraveling him. He remembered Jungkook at sixteen, uncoordinated lanky limbs and scraped knees grinning up at him after scoring the winning goal, sweaty and radiant. Back then, Taehyung had ruffled his hair without thinking, his chest swelling with pride. Now, Jungkook’s fingers dug into the curve of Taehyung’s ass, possessive in a way that left no room for denial.
"You’re impossible," Taehyung breathed, but his thighs parted instinctively when Jungkook’s knee nudged higher. The friction was dizzying, too much and not enough and Taehyung’s stomach twisted with the realization that Jungkook had been studying him for years, memorizing every weak point.
"This isn’t— we can’t", The protest died when Jungkook’s palm slid fully into his shorts, calloused fingers brushing the damp fabric of Taehyung’s underwear.
Jungkook hummed, low and satisfied.
"You keep saying that," he murmured, lips grazing Taehyung’s jaw. His thumb circled Taehyung’s clit through the wet cotton, achingly slow.
"But your cunt’s dripping for me."
The crudeness made Taehyung shudder, his hips jerking into the touch despite himself.
The cicadas' drone drowned out Taehyung's sharp inhale as Jungkook's fingers pressed harder against his clit through soaked cotton. Three years ago, those same hands had been clumsy with braces elastics, fumbling to tie Taehyung's shoelaces when he'd pretended his fingers were too cold. Now they moved with devastating precision, circling the swollen bud in a rhythm that had Taehyung's toes curling in the grass.
"You used to tie my shoes," Jungkook murmured against the shell of Taehyung's ear, his breath scalding. His free hand slid up Taehyung's shirt, mapping the familiar terrain of his ribs—the same ribs he'd counted when Taehyung had carried him piggyback through autumn leaves at fourteen.
"Always kneeling in front of me like you belonged there." The memory should've been innocent. The way Jungkook's teeth grazed Taehyung's neck made it anything but.
Taehyung's hips jerked when Jungkook's thumb pressed down harder, the fabric chafing in the best way.
"S-stop—" he gasped, but it came out breathless, ruined.
Jungkook chuckled, the vibration traveling through where their chests pressed together—just like when they'd shared a sleeping bag during camping trips, except now there was no childhood innocence left to hide behind.
"I remember my first wet dream," Jungkook continued, voice thick with amusement as his fingers dipped beneath Taehyung's waistband. The admission shouldn't have sent heat licking up Taehyung's spine—shouldn't have made his thighs tremble when Jungkook's fingertips finally brushed bare skin. "Fifteen years old, and I woke up with your name on my lips." His palm cupped Taehyung fully now, callouses catching on sensitive flesh. "You made me pancakes that morning and asked why I was blushing."
Jungkook’s fingers traced the waistband of Taehyung’s shorts with the same reverence he’d once reserved for tracing the lines of Taehyung’s palm during childhood sleepovers—back when he’d pretend it was just for fortune-telling, when he could still play innocent.
"You used to let me hold your hand all the time," Jungkook murmured, lips brushing the shell of Taehyung’s ear as his fingertips dipped lower.
The comparison was deliberate, a weaponized memory. Taehyung remembered—Jungkook at eleven, clinging to his fingers during thunderstorms, his small hands damp with sweat but never letting go. Now, those hands were anything but small, his grip firm as he palmed Taehyung through his underwear, coaxing a choked noise from his throat.
Taehyung’s breath hitched when Jungkook’s thumb found his clit again, circling with infuriating precision.
"Stop—" he gasped, but his hips arched into the touch, betraying him.
It was always like this.
Jungkook dismantling his protests with touch alone, reducing him to a trembling mess with the same ease he’d once used to wheedle extra dessert from Taehyung’s plate.
"You never told me to stop when I followed you everywhere at fourteen," Jungkook countered, his voice thick with amusement. His teeth grazed Taehyung’s neck, sharp enough to sting.
"Not when I waited outside your classroom between periods. Not when I sat too close during movie nights."
His fingers pressed harder, dragging a whimper from Taehyung’s lips.
"Not even when I kissed you drunk at seventeen."
The memories flooded Taehyung’s mind—Jungkook’s relentless shadow, his too-bright smiles, the way he’d always find excuses to touch Taehyung’s wrist, his shoulder, the small of his back. Back then, Taehyung had chalked it up to childish affection, to hero worship. Now, Jungkook’s touch burned with intent, his fingers slipping beneath Taehyung’s underwear to stroke through slick heat.
"You’re—" Taehyung choked out, but the words dissolved into a moan when Jungkook’s middle finger pressed inside, just to the first knuckle.
The cicadas’ drone faded into white noise as Jungkook’s finger curled inside Taehyung, slow and deliberate—the same way he’d once curled his fingers around Taehyung’s wrist at twelve, pretending to need help crossing the street. Back then, Taehyung had laughed and called him clingy. Now, the word died in his throat, replaced by a gasp when Jungkook added a second finger, stretching him with a familiarity that shouldn’t exist.
"You used to let me hold your hand like this," Jungkook murmured, his breath hot against Taehyung’s collarbone. His fingers scissored gently, a cruel mimicry of childhood innocence.
"When we’d walk home from school, you’d let me swing our arms like some dumb kid." His teeth grazed Taehyung’s pulse point, sharp enough to sting.
"I used to pretend it meant something."
Taehyung’s stomach twisted. He remembered—Jungkook’s small hand sticky with melted popsicle, his too-bright grin when Taehyung didn’t pull away. Back then, it had been easy to dismiss as childish affection. Now, Jungkook’s fingers pumped deeper, his palm grinding against Taehyung’s clit with each thrust, and the heat coiling in Taehyung’s gut felt anything but brotherly.
"J-Jungkook—" Taehyung choked out, but his thighs trembled, clamping around Jungkook’s wrist. The contradiction burned. He remembered Jungkook at fifteen, blushing when Taehyung ruffled his hair after a school play, his eyes darting away too fast. At the time, Taehyung had thought it was stage nerves. Now, Jungkook’s smirk told him otherwise.
Jungkook’s fingers stilled inside Taehyung, pressing deep enough to make his breath stutter.
"You remember our first kiss?" he murmured against Taehyung’s throat, lips brushing the sensitive skin there. The question was loaded with the same memory Jungkook had kept on mentioning just to stir Taehyung's emotions.
Of course Taehyung remembered.
How could he ever forget that he got wet at the memory of Jungkook drunkenly kissing him. It was nothing remarkable but Taehyung liked Jungkook more than he could ever admit and that was why he would never tell Jungkook the truth.
Now, Jungkook’s teeth grazed Taehyung’s collarbone.
"I can't count how many times I've cum to the though of you," he admitted, fingers curling just enough to drag a gasp from Taehyung’s lips.
The crudeness of the confession shouldn’t have sent heat licking down Taehyung’s spine—shouldn’t have made his hips jerk when Jungkook added a third finger, stretching him with relentless patience.His laugh was dark, triumphant.
"I was imagining it was your hand on my dick the whole time."
Taehyung’s stomach clenched.
Back then, it had been easy to dismiss as teenage awkwardness. Now, Jungkook’s fingers moved with purpose, scissoring deep as his thumb circled Taehyung’s clit, and the wet sound between them was obscene.
"That’s—" Taehyung choked out, but Jungkook’s free hand clamped over his mouth, stifling out his moans.
Jungkook's fingers twisted, dragging against Taehyung’s walls in a way that had Taehyung's walls clamping around them, as if begging for more
Jungkook’s fingers curled deeper inside Taehyung, pressing against that spot that made his vision blur.
"You remember my graduation?" Jungkook murmured against his throat, lips brushing the sweat-damp skin there. His voice was low, rough—nothing like the squeaky cadence Taehyung remembered from when Jungkook had been sixteen, tripping over his gown during rehearsal.
"You fixed my tie in the parking lot." His thumb circled Taehyung’s clit faster, relentless.
"I almost came in my pants just from your fingers brushing my neck."
Taehyung’s breath stuttered. He remembered—Jungkook’s adam’s apple bobbing under his touch, the way his breath had hitched when Taehyung’s knuckles grazed his collarbone. Back then, Taehyung had chalked it up to nerves. Now, Jungkook’s smirk told him otherwise.
"Stop—" Taehyung gasped, but his hips rocked into Jungkook’s hand, betraying him.
The contradiction burned hotter than the summer sun. Jungkook laughed, the sound dark and satisfied, and withdrew his fingers with a filthy squelch. Taehyung whimpered at the loss, his body arching off the grass involuntarily.
"You keep saying that," Jungkook mused, licking Taehyung’s slick off his fingers with deliberate slowness. His tongue curled around his middle finger, eyes locked on Taehyung’s flushed face.
"But your cunt keeps clamping around my fingers begging for more."
The crudeness of Jungkook's words never ceased to amaze Taehyung and shouldn’t have sent heat pooling lower in Taehyung’s stomach—shouldn’t have made his thighs tremble when Jungkook unbuckled his jeans with one hand, the sound of his zipper gratingly loud in the humid air.
The cicadas' scream cut out abruptly when Jungkook's palm flattened against Taehyung's sternum, pinning him to the grass with the same effortless dominance he'd once reserved for wrestling matches in Taehyung's childhood bedroom—back when he'd pretend to lose just so Taehyung would pin him. Now there was no pretense. Jungkook's hips slotted between Taehyung's thighs with predatory precision, the hard line of his cock pressing against Taehyung's soaked underwear.
"Remember when you taught me how to wrestle?" Jungkook murmured against the sweat-damp hollow of Taehyung's throat. His teeth grazed the fluttering pulse there.
"You let me win sometimes."
The admission was a grenade tossed between them, obliterating Taehyung's last fragile denial.
Jungkook's fingers tightened around Taehyung's wrists, pressing them into the grass with the same possessiveness he'd once reserved for clutching Taehyung's sleeve during thunderstorms and Taehyung had laughed and called him scaredy-cat.
Compared to the Jungkook from his childhood memories, this current Jungkook's grip was ironclad, his hips rolling forward in a slow, deliberate grind that dragged a whimper from Taehyung's lips.
"You used to ruffle my hair when I clung to you," Jungkook continued, voice thick with amusement.
His free hand slid down Taehyung's body, calloused fingers mapping the familiar terrain of his ribs—the same ribs he'd counted when Taehyung had carried him piggyback through autumn leaves at fourteen.
"Now I'm the one holding you down."
The first thrust punched the air from Taehyung's lungs. Jungkook didn't ease in—didn't give him time to adjust—just sheathed himself to the hilt with a groan that vibrated through Taehyung's chest. It was nothing like the hesitant, fumbling touches Taehyung remembered from their drunken kiss at seventeen. Jungkook moved with the confidence of someone who'd spent years imagining this exact moment, his hips snapping forward with a precision that left Taehyung gasping.
"You—" Taehyung choked out, but the words dissolved into a moan when Jungkook's thumb found his clit again, circling with ruthless efficiency while his hips pistoned his dick inand out of him.
"Me," Jungkook agreed, lips curling into a smirk against Taehyung's jaw. His teeth scraped the sensitive skin there, sharp enough to sting.
"Not that fucking upperclassman who kissed you behind the gym. Not any of those losers you brought home after college parties."
His hips jerked forward, punctuating each word with a thrust that drove Taehyung deeper into the grass.
"Just me. Always me."
The possessiveness in his voice shouldn't have made Taehyung's stomach flip—shouldn't have made his thighs tighten around Jungkook's waist in silent surrender.
Taehyung remembered—Jungkook at sixteen, sulking when Taehyung came home smelling like someone else's cologne, his fists clenching at his sides like he wanted to fight the whole world.Taehyung had laughed it off, called him jealous brat and ruffled his hair.
Jungkook's hands were everywhere, claiming Taehyung's body with a familiarity that left no room for denial. His fingers dug into Taehyung's thighs, spreading them wider as he drove deeper, the wet sound of their bodies obscenely loud in the summer air.
"You used to tell me to grow up," Jungkook murmured against Taehyung's collarbone, breath hot against sweat-slick skin. His hips rolled forward in a slow, deliberate grind that made Taehyung's toes curl.
"Well?" His teeth grazed Taehyung's pulse point.
"Am I grown up enough for you now?"
The words punched through Taehyung's ribs, unraveling him. He remembered—Jungkook at fourteen, tripping over his own feet to follow Taehyung to the convenience store, clutching a crumpled allowance in his fist just to buy Taehyung a soda he didn't ask for. Back then, Jungkook's devotion had been endearing—something to pat on the head and laugh off. Now, it was a wildfire, relentless and consuming. Taehyung's back arched off the grass when Jungkook's fingers tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to sting.
"Look at me," Jungkook demanded, voice rough with want.
"Look at who's fucking you."
Taehyung's breath hitched. Jungkook's eyes burned hotter than the August sun, his gaze locked on Taehyung's face with an intensity that left no room for escape. There was no trace of the wide-eyed kid who'd clung to Taehyung's sleeve during horror movies—just raw hunger, dark and insatiable.
"Still think I'm a baby?" Jungkook taunted, hips snapping forward with a force that dragged a sob from Taehyung's throat.
His thumb pressed down on Taehyung's clit, relentless.
"Still think I don't know what I'm doing?"
The words were a challenge, a dare—one Taehyung couldn't answer, not when Jungkook's cock dragged against that spot inside him that made his vision blur.
Jungkook's laugh was dark, satisfied, as Taehyung's body betrayed him, hips jerking into each thrust with desperate abandon.
"That's what I thought," he murmured, lips brushing Taehyung's ear.
His teeth grazed the shell, sharp enough to make Taehyung shudder.
"You always knew I'd ruin you one day."
The admission shouldn't have sent heat licking down Taehyung's spine—shouldn't have made his cunt clench around Jungkook's cock like a vice. But it did. Just like Jungkook knew it would.
Taehyung's fingers scrabbled against Jungkook's back, blunt nails digging into sweat-slick skin. He remembered—Jungkook at sixteen, blushing when Taehyung ruffled his hair after a soccer game, his eyes darting away too fast. Back then, Taehyung had chalked it up to teenage awkwardness. Now, Jungkook's hips rolled with a confidence that left no room for doubt—he knew exactly what he was doing, exactly how to wring pleasure from Taehyung's body like he'd spent years mapping every inch of it. (He had.)
"You used to tell me to wait my turn," Jungkook panted against Taehyung's collarbone, teeth scraping the sensitive skin there.
His grip on Taehyung's hip tightened, fingers digging in with possessive intent.
"Well?" His thrusts grew sharper, harder, each one punctuated by the wet slap of skin on skin.
"It's my turn now." The words were a grenade tossed between them, obliterating Taehyung's last fragile denial.
Taehyung's breath stuttered when Jungkook's fingers wrapped around his throat, pressing just enough to make his pulse jump beneath the pressure. He remembered—Jungkook at twelve, clinging to Taehyung's wrist during thunderstorms, his small hands damp with sweat but never letting go. Now, those same hands pinned Taehyung to the grass with effortless dominance, his thumb tracing Taehyung's pulse point with mocking reverence.
"You used to say I'd grow out of you," Jungkook murmured, lips curling into a smirk against Taehyung's jaw. His hips snapped forward, driving deeper with each thrust.
"Guess you were wrong."
Taehyung's thighs trembled around Jungkook's waist, his body arching off the grass with each punishing stroke. The contradiction burned—Jungkook's touch was both familiar and devastatingly new, his body pressing Taehyung into the earth with a confidence that left no room for childhood nostalgia.
"J-Jungkook—" Taehyung choked out, but the name dissolved into a moan when Jungkook's thumb pressed down harder on his clit, relentless.
"Still think I'm a kid?" Jungkook taunted, voice thick with amusement. His fingers tightened around Taehyung's throat, just enough to make his vision blur.
"Still think I don't know how to fuck you properly?"
The words punched through Taehyung's ribs, unraveling him. He remembered—Jungkook at fifteen, blushing when Taehyung ruffled his hair after a soccer game, his eyes darting away too fast. Back then, Taehyung had chalked it up to teenage awkwardness. Now, Jungkook's hips rolled with a precision that left no room for doubt—he knew exactly how to wring pleasure from Taehyung's body like he'd spent years studying every inch of it. (He had.)
Jungkook's laugh was dark, satisfied, as Taehyung's cunt clenched around him, betraying him.
"You used to say I'd understand when I was older," he murmured against Taehyung's ear, lips brushing the shell with deliberate slowness. His teeth grazed the lobe, sharp enough to sting.
"Well?" His fingers dug into Taehyung's thigh, spreading him wider.
"Do I understand now?"
The question was a knife to the ribs; another weaponized memory.
Jungkook's hips jerked forward with a force that drove the breath from Taehyung's lungs, his cock pressing against that spot inside that made Taehyung's vision blur.
Taehyung's fingers scrabbled against Jungkook's back, blunt nails digging into sweat-slick skin.
Jungkook’s rhythm was relentless, each thrust carving Taehyung open with a precision that left no room for the past. The cicadas' drone faded beneath the wet slap of skin, the choked-off moans Taehyung couldn’t swallow back. Jungkook’s teeth sank into his shoulder—not the tentative nip of a teenager testing boundaries, but the deliberate mark of a man who knew exactly what he wanted.
"Still think I’m that kid who blushed when you touched his hair?" Jungkook growled, his voice rough with exertion.
His hips snapped forward, driving Taehyung deeper into the grass, the friction brutal and perfect.
Taehyung’s fingers tangled in Jungkook’s sweat-damp hair, tugging instinctively. The strands were longer now, not the rebellious buzz cut he’d worn at seventeen when he’d cornered Taehyung after graduation, trembling with unspent want. Jungkook laughed against his throat, the vibration searing.
"You used to pat me like a damn puppy," he taunted, catching Taehyung’s wrist and pinning it above his head with effortless strength.
His free hand slid down Taehyung’s body, calloused fingers mapping the dip of his waist, the shudder of his ribs—every reaction cataloged and exploited.
"Tell me," Jungkook murmured, lips brushing Taehyung’s ear, "does this feel like a kid fucking you?"
The question was a knife twist. Taehyung’s hips jerked involuntarily as Jungkook’s cock dragged against that spot inside him, the one that made his thighs tremble and his vision splinter. He remembered—Jungkook at sixteen, flushing crimson when Taehyung absentmindedly ruffled his hair, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he’d stammered some excuse and fled. Now, Jungkook’s palm smacked Taehyung’s thigh, the sharp sting forcing his legs wider.
"Answer me," Jungkook demanded, voice dark with amusement. His thumb circled Taehyung’s clit, ruthless.
"Or do I need to fuck it out of you?"
The crudeness shouldn’t have sent heat licking down Taehyung’s spine—shouldn’t have made his cunt clench around Jungkook’s cock like a vice. But it did. Just like Jungkook knew it would. Taehyung’s breath hitched as Jungkook leaned in, his chest pressing Taehyung into the grass, the weight of him overwhelming.
"You used to carry me to bed when I pretended to fall asleep," Jungkook murmured against his jaw, teeth scraping the stubble there. His hips rolled in a slow, filthy grind that had Taehyung’s toes curling.
"Now look at you." His laughter was a low, satisfied thing.
"Couldn’t lift me if you tried.”
Taehyung gasped as Jungkook’s fingers tangled in his hair, wrenching his head back to expose his throat. The grip was unforgiving—nothing like the tentative touches Taehyung remembered from their drunken kiss at seventeen. Jungkook’s teeth sank into the column of Taehyung’s neck, sharp enough to bruise, his thrusts losing rhythm as he chased his own pleasure.
"Still think I’m that kid who cried when you fixed his scraped knee?" Jungkook panted against Taehyung’s pulse point, his breath scalding. His cock twitched inside Taehyung, thick and insistent.
"Fuck, you’re tighter than I imagined."
The admission punched through Taehyung’s ribs, unraveling him. He remembered—Jungkook at fourteen, trembling as Taehyung pressed a Band-Aid to his bloody knee, his lower lip wobbling like he might cry. Now, Jungkook’s fingers dug into Taehyung’s hips with bruising force, his hips snapping forward with a precision that left no room for childhood nostalgia.
"You used to tell me to stop following you," Jungkook growled, voice rough with exertion. His thumb pressed down on Taehyung’s clit, relentless.
"Now you’re the one clinging to me."
Taehyung’s back arched off the grass, his body betraying him as Jungkook’s cock dragged against that spot inside him again and again. The contradiction burned—Jungkook’s touch was both familiar and devastatingly new, his body pressing Taehyung into the earth with a confidence that obliterated any lingering memories of gangly limbs and shy smiles.
"Look at me," Jungkook demanded, gripping Taehyung’s chin with bruising force. His eyes burned hotter than the August sun, dark with want.
"Tell me I’m still a kid now."
The words died in Taehyung’s throat as Jungkook’s hips jerked forward, driving deep. His orgasm ripped through him with brutal force, his body convulsing around Jungkook’s cock as he came untouched, his nails scoring red lines down Jungkook’s back. Jungkook’s groan was ragged against Taehyung’s throat, his thrusts growing erratic before he stilled, burying himself to the hilt. His fingers tightened in Taehyung’s hair, tugging just enough to sting.
"Still think I’m that brat who followed you everywhere?", Jungkook panted, lips brushing Taehyung’s sweat-slick temple. His cock twitched inside Taehyung, still half-hard.
"Or do I need to prove it again?”