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The lights were blinding, glittering flashes of blues and greens clipping out onto the patio of the bar from the propped open doors and undulating to the beat of the music the live cover band belted into their microphones. You and Jimin had been successful in your mission of getting everyone into the Hawaiian shirts you two had bought. Your luck extending further when he wrangled you all together for a photo around the table. Yours was left unbuttoned over a cropped tank top and long flowing skirt that you couldn’t stop twirling in. You felt good. Which had nothing to do with the cover band playing ABBA or the fruity cocktail in your hand that you stole small sips from–nor the group of attractive men accompanying you for the night. Nothing at all.
Moving like water on the dance floor, you floated through one song to the next, the lights and music fulfilling your starving dopamine needs until you felt pure elation. Another drink wouldn't be needed to make the night better (though it couldn't make it worse). Tonight was perfect. It should feel perfect. Ask any person slumped over the bar and they'd tell you it was.
But you still needed more. The world was glowing in your eyes, yet you wanted nothing more than to devour it whole. And you knew full well you'd still have room to beg for seconds.
Jimin seldom left your side, one hand resting dangerously low on the swell of your hip while he moved you to the beat of whatever song was playing, everywhere he touched the skin lit up–every brush of his thumb beneath the hem of your tank top addicting. Taehyung was almost in a worse state than you, brushing aside his snobbish opinions on music to dance to whatever had a beat he could follow (which was all of them). You were certain his shoes would need to be replaced by the time you all piled back in the car.
The room felt hot. Too hot for just the dancing and the bright lights that reflected off of moving bodies. Jimin was lavishing you with touch while Taehyung was giving everything and nothing at all. It made a new kind of want burn through your veins and cloud your senses.
Worst of it all was the way you would catch Yoongi looking at you: Eyes half-lidded, tracing every curve your body made on the dance floor, swirling a drink in his hands he hadn’t bothered to take a sip of in nearly a half-hour. Blood rushed through your ears, heartbeat pounding against ribs–his presence soaking every inch of skin until all you could feel was his stare. You were drowning in him.
Suddenly the cheesy nautical themed décor felt more overwhelming and less amusing. The music too loud. Too romantic. You didn’t want romance. You wanted excitement. You wanted whatever world he spun with those long, tantalizing fingers.
Fresh air. Maybe that’s what you needed.
Beelining back to the table where the man who was making your head spin sat with Hoseok and Namjoon, you clumsily dropped your drink down onto the table, a bit of the red cocktail splapping down the sides. “Watch this for me.”
“Where ya goin’?” Hoseok piped up, hand slipping to cover the rim of your drink and brows pinching in slight worry.
“I need some air.” You caught Yoongi’s eyes momentarily, body warming instantly in response. “Bathrooms are out there anyways. I’ll be back soon.”
“Want me to come along?” Hoseok asked. While the gesture was kind, you knew if you were alone with any of them right now in your current state, you might do something reckless. All of them looked far better in the silly Hawaiian shirts than you had imagined, and never had you imagined such a flimsy piece of vibrant fabric would tempt you enough to rip it off with your teeth. Is this what you were becoming? An animal? You shook your head at yourself.
“I’ll be okay. Enjoy yourselves. I’ll call you if I need you. Promise.” You blew the table a kiss, unable to stop the way your gaze lingered on Yoongi. It was impossible not to–especially with the way his stare burned holes into side of your face every time you didn’t.
Scrambling out the glass door, you paced down the sidewalk of the little bar, pausing along a waist-height cement divider between the walkway and the thick woods. Drinking in the fresh summer air, you let your palms rest on the cool rocks, hoping the change in temperature would knock the thirst for more out of your system. And the only thing you were certain would quench it right now was that smooth-talking Pisces you had left at the table.
Tensions were thick between you two. There was only so much back and forth with him that you could take. With what happened that morning at breakfast still fresh in your mind, you knew that if you wanted anything from him you’d have to break first. You had made the last play. It was his turn now, and you had a feeling he had already readied his hand to win. But playing into it was something your pride wouldn’t let you do–not when that’s exactly what he wanted.
Though, you’d be lying if you said your curious mind hadn’t wandered into unknown territory, imagining how it’d feel to give in. Wondering just how far he’d go to make you break.
“If they had the music any louder in there I think I’d go deaf,. I don’t know how Jimin does it.” Yoongi snorted, settling his elbows on the cement wall beside you. His eyes cast you a cursory glance. “You doing okay?”
“Yep.” You grit your teeth, knees already beginning to shake at just the sound of his voice.
Yoongi grunted. “You sure?”
“Very.”
In you peripheral, he regarded you with honest concern, using his inspection as an excuse to take a half step closer. “Anything I can do for you?”
Fuck me.
You swallowed down the thought. “Nope.”
“Nothing at all?”
This time you risked a look at him with the intent to give him a grateful smile and excuse yourself further behind the building to the restrooms–but you froze. A smirk ghosted the edge of his lips, and in his eyes a victorious glint that harbored nothing but pride. The kind that told you he had you exactly where he wanted you.
Too bad for him. You weren’t going to give in that easily. A laugh tumbled from your chest, light and breathless. “Tonight is perfect. I have all of you here, the drink I had was delicious, and the music superb. What else could I possibly want?”
Yoongi gave a nonchalant shrug. “That’s why I asked you.”
“Well it seems I don’t have an answer.”
He hummed as though what you said was impressive, hovering back and stretching his arms over his head. A sliver of his stomach was revealed to your hungry eyes from beneath the aqua blue shirt. Rolling your tongue over it sounded nice. Kissing it sounded even more deductible. You gulped down the drool that had started to pool in your cheeks.
“If that’s the case, then I guess I should head back in. Told everyone I’d come check on you so they are probably curious. Just figured we’d have plenty of time since they were all distracted with ordering another round of food.”
You nearly choked on your spit. “E-enough time f-for what, exactly?”
He shrugged for a second time. “Seems you don’t have an answer.”
Each inhale sounded shaky in your own head, your heart rattling up through your chest into your throat. You had to fist your hands in your skirt to keep from snatching up his collar and smashing your mouth to his.
“Any ideas you would like to share?”
With his head tilted towards the floor he laughed– a low cocky sound deep in his diaphragm and barely audible–each sound as dangerous as the slow steps he took to close the distance. In seconds he was mere inches away, noses brushing, eyes sharp and narrowed in on your face, his smile lazy as he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek.
Wide hands found your hips, coasting up the curves and curling into the loose fabric of your unbuttoned shirt, one sharp tug on it pulling you flush to his front.
“Why don’t you tell me what you want? Hm?” He didn’t let you avert your eyes, chasing after them each time they tried. “Look at me when I’m talking to you, sweetheart.”
Your breath hitched, eyes flying to meet his. “I d-don’t know what y-you’re talking about.”
“No?” Yoongi scoured your face, and you knew he was reading you in that moment. His flowing power prodding through your senses–searching for any real hesitation. “That’s unfortunate for you. I don’t touch people unless they ask me to. So I’m going to need you to use your big girl words like I’ve heard you can.”
He waited, his hands never touching skin–only fabric.
You craved him to touch you harder. To press his fingers deep into your skin, or dip them lower into the waist band of your skirt. To just give it up. To just let this game end so you could have what you both clearly wanted.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you inside then.” He whispered, lips so close to yours they touched. Each word nestling electricity straight between your thighs.
His warmth faded. Hands retracted from your skin in his leisure stroll back towards the front.
You almost cried right then and there out of sheer frustration. All you wanted was for him to touch you, and it seemed like he was intent to make you beg for it. The quiver in your legs told you that there was no going back. There was no way in which you’d be able to just go back into the bar and dance like you weren’t dying to pull him into the first dark corner you saw. Let him run his hands wherever he liked. Let his mouth paint wet pictures on any skin he wanted.
It was inevitable. You had lost.
“Wait!” Your voice sounded just as desperate as you felt–something you had almost never heard yourself sound.
Yoongi halted his steps, turning around to face you with a lopsided grin. You had played right into his hands. “Yeah?”
Clenching your fists at your sides, you steadied your breath, squeezing your eyes shut as you did the unthinkable.
“Please–I can’t do this anymore. Just…” You leveled your gaze with his. “Please just touch me.”
The distance between you was closed in a few long strides, one hand grabbing your waist and the other sliding up to your jaw, tipping your mouth to meet his. It was messy. There was no gentle start; just hunger and desperation. He worked your mouth like he owned it, using his grip on your chin to steer you where he wanted, tongue exploring where ever he liked. You could barely keep up, struggling to catch your breath between the fingers gliding over the exposed skin of your waist and his mouth, a series of small sighs falling from your lips faster than you could catch. He tasted like whiskey, sweet iced tea, and something so distinctly him that you couldn’t get enough of.
Your back hit the grimy wall of the bar with a thud and a gasp, a sound he swallowed greedily and returned with one of his own. He hiked one of your legs up and over his hip, letting the wall behind you bear most of your weight. His palm slithered over your knee, inching over the outside of your thigh and until it dug into your ass, using his grip to flatten your hips against his.
The first roll of your hips had him groaning straight down your throat, his grip tightening enough to leave an imprint. The second earned you a string of curses, his mouth leaving yours to trail hot open-mouthed kisses down your throat and across your collar before coming back to hover over your mouth. You whined when he didn’t kiss you again.
“You needed to use the bathroom, didn’t you?” He asked through ragged breathing.
“What?” You blinked rapidly, still floating far above the ground.
He chuckled, using a firm hold on your chin to ground you back to him. “Bathroom. Now.”
“Right.” You grabbed his hand, not caring how desperate you looked to him anymore, tugging him along the rest of the deserted path to the dingy bathroom. You both wore matching grins, the exhilaration getting the best of both of you that only grew upon finding the bathroom empty.
With a hand on your shoulder, he spun you around to latch his mouth back on yours, both of you stumbling back into the bathroom with giddy giggles and impatient hands.
He broke from you to pinch the lock closed, looking to you with such gravity it took your breath away.
“Is this okay?”
You nodded rigorously. “More than okay.”
“Just wanted to double check.” Using both hands on your shoulders, he spun you back against the locked door, mouth finding your throat once more. Gently, he guided the Hawaiian shirt off your shoulders and let it fall to the floor to give him more room to work with.
You threaded your hands through his hair with a satisfied sigh, his tongue leaving long wet stripes down your chest to the hem of your tank top, blatantly refusing to go where you wanted him.
His fingers fiddled with the spaghetti straps. “Can I-”
“Just take it off already!” You whined, tugging swiftly on his long locks.
He ceased his movements, glowering up to you. “Want to try that again, sweetheart?”
You licked your swollen lips, shrinking under the authority of his gaze. “Please?”
“Better.” Yoongi hummed, crashing his lips back to yours.
His tongue ran expert circles around yours, teeth sinking into the flesh of your lower lip hard enough to pull more sounds from your throat, then softening his movements until they were languid and gentle as though in apology. Then he’d do it again. And again.
Warmth danced back up to your shoulders, palms dragging the thin straps if your tank top down over your arms before letting his finger hook into the front and pull it down just enough to let your breasts hang over it.
Cupping one of them in his hand and letting it spill through his fingers with a deliberate squeeze, you moaned straight into him, leading the kiss to something slower and deeper to make room for the sound. He didn’t kiss you for much longer, his head disappearing lower to suck the other nipple straight into his mouth.
Your back arched off the door with a cry, hands pulling his hair like you wanted to both push him away and hold him closer. Then he bit down–hard. With teeth. pinching the nipple until it ached then soothing the sting with a lave of his tongue. The pain was delicious. The constant push and pull between the sensual run of his tongue and the sharp brutality of his teeth making your eyes roll back.
With your skin now littered with tender, sticky imprints of his mouth he moved lower. Nipping along your stomach. Biting deep into your hip and kissing it when you’d cry out.
Dropping to his knees, Yoongi hiked your skirt up to your waist, guiding your hands to wind into the fabric and keep it in place. “Hold this for me like a good girl, yeah?”
You slumped back against the wall with a shuddering breath, his nose bumping against your clothed clit as he placed butterfly kisses along the cotton of your underwear, extending them down your shaking thighs and back up again, pausing to look up to you with a knowing smirk.
“Do you want this?”
“Yes,” You sighed, albeit a bit impatiently.
He cocked his head to the side. “Do you? Because it doesn’t sound like it.”
“I do!” You cried out defiantly, hips squirming against his hold, throbbing with a need that threatened delirium.
Yoongi’s gaze darkened, and before you knew it his palm smacked your clothed pussy hard enough to sting. “Try again.”
With a thump and some pitiful cross between a whine and a moan, the back of your head hit the door. “P-Please!”
“Please what?” He demanded, fingers drawing circles over your thighs like he had all the time in the world.
“Touch me!”
“Hmm…” A mocking hum rumbled from his chest. “Not good enough.”
You groaned embarrassingly loud, hips jerking forwards. “Please!”
He scoffed. “Are you even trying?”
Tears of frustration pricked your eyes, your core fluttering around nothing when you tilted your head down to meet his gaze. He was smiling. You were on the verge of tears and he was clearly enjoying it.
“Yoongi–Please. Please touch me.” Your voice began to shake, voice twinged with humiliation at how vulnerable you sounded.
“You’re getting there. Be more specific.” He challenged, pressing more kisses to your thighs.
Pushing down the embarrassment that threatened to overflow, you just let it spill from your lips. So needy for him it hurt. “Fuck me. Touch me. Eat me out until I can’t think straight. Just do something, please!”
Delight brightened up his features, lip pulled up between his teeth like he had just won the best prize in the world. “That wasn’t so hard was it? You could have just said that the first time.”
There was only seconds to react before he pulled your underwear to the side, diving his tongue straight through your folds to lap up the pooling arousal, exploring with expert flicks of the muscle until he found exactly what he was looking for.
A long drawn out moan tore through your throat, the sparks of pleasure shooting up into your abdomen and knitting the muscles tight, hips chasing his mouth with every heavy breath. Thighs clenched around his head, muscles contracting against your will, your whole body trembling with the effort it took not to collapse on him.
The tip of his tongue nudged at your entrance, never quiet slipping in but adding enough pressure to make it feel like he would, always keeping you on edge and wanting. Yoongi seemed to be testing the strength of your legs, for with one quick angle of his head his tongue plunged into you, setting a brutal pace that his nose matched against your clit.
You whines grew breathy and hurried, fingers clawing at the roots of his hair and legs stuck between opening wider and sucking him in deeper or holding onto him for dear life. The deep burning pressure in your lower stomach rose to new heights, burning at an alarming pace.
“I’m gonna…” You looked down at him hopelessly, tears that threatened to spill finally falling. “I’m-”
He groaned into you, hand rearing back to land a harsh smack to your ass before grappling with the flesh to hold you closer–to burrow deeper into you.
“F-fuck-”
Pleasure exploded like a wave crashing against the shore, burning a trail through your veins and blinding your vision. Your slid down the wall, legs completely useless, nothing but garbled sounds and wet moans falling from your mouth instead of the warning you wanted to give him.
His mouth followed you, dragging your hips forward across the floor so only your shoulders were propped against the door. It was too much–each swipe of his tongue almost painful, your muscles coiled tight enough to snap.
Two fingers stretched your hole, scissoring you open and curling intentionally across the top, scraping along your walls with enough pressure to make you scream. A second orgasm was building fast, your body writhing against the door, hands scratching along his arms that hooked themselves around your thighs and hips.
He didn’t let you breathe. Didn’t let you find any ground to hold onto before you were sent flying off the edge, a pornographic sob of relief ripping you in half.
He took his time retracting his mouth, tender kisses and controlled swipes of his tongue anywhere he deemed fit, letting his fingers pump in lazy circles as you came down from your high. The lower half of his face was soaked, chin glistening and lips gleaming. Sitting back on his knees, he watched you catch your breath as though he was looking at something magnificent. Like the tears that glittered upon your cheeks were jewels he had adorned you with. A gift for him to see on your skin.
After a few moments spent catching your breath, he removed his fingers and lightly bopped your mouth. “Open.”
Obediently your lips parted, hallowing out your cheeks to suck the mess you had made of of them. Pride swelled in your chest at how he looked at you–enamored and unabashedly proud.
“You still in there?” He inquired, voice so sweet and delicate, your stomach fluttering at the sound.
“Yeah,” You panted out, pulling yourself up to lean against the door. “Are you okay? Didn’t mean to fall back there…”
His shoulders shook with quiet laughter. “Meant I was doing something right.”
Your eyes trailed down his hand where it rested on your knee drawing soothing patterns against the skin, following the rippling veins and muscles up his forearms and across his glistening chin, then falling his lap. He followed your gaze, his energy shifting back into something insatiable. His grip tight on your leg.
“Think you can handle more?”