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tayegi · 6 years

Text

Begin Again Ch. 2

Word Count: 7,963

Warning: T+ sexual content

"What about this one, Yoongi?" you ask as you hold up a pretty black sheath dress for his inspection half an hour later.

He takes one look at the outfit and scoffs, "Are you going to a funeral, ___? I don't think widowed men are ready for that sort of comforting yet..."

Your jaw drops in indignation, but you can't help but laugh. He hasn't changed one bit since college. His mouth is as smart as always. "It's not bad!" You exclaim, "It's chic, no?"

"I think we're having a misunderstanding," the dark-haired man drawls, "Are we now shopping for your office attire?"

"What? No way! I couldn't wear something this scandalous to work!"

He cocks an eyebrow, "This is considered scandalous? I shudder to think of what you wear to church then, babe."

Your lips twitch as you fight back a smile, "Fine. If all you can do is criticize my choices, then why don't you give it a try?"

"Easy," he agrees, "Just wear that."

You squint to see where he's pointing across the cozy boutique, and your eyes nearly pop from your head when focus in on the skimpy red leather mini-dress displayed on the mannequin. Even on the scrawny alabaster model, the dress conforms to every inch of its figure, and you can only imagine how tight it'd be on an actual human being, "No," you gasp, "No way."

"Why not?" Yoongi asks, pulling you by the hand to lead you across to the rack of clothing below the mannequin, "What's your size?"

You hastily grab his wrist before he can pull a dress off the rack, "No, Yoongi, I seriously can't wear this," you hiss at him, glancing around in embarrassment, "Do you have any idea how old I am?!"

"Yeah. We're the same age, remember?" he says in amusement.

"Exactly! We're nearly at that big 3-0. Maybe I could've pulled something off like this when I was twenty-five. But not now!"

He snorts, "What are you even talking about? You'd look better than any twenty-five-year-old in this. Just try it on."

"I can't!" You vehemently protest, "This is just… Too much. What was wrong with the black dress? Isn't black supposed to be the sexiest color, after all?!"

"See, that's a common mistake to make. You're clearly out of practice, ___."

"What?" You blink in surprise, "Is black not sexy anymore?"

"Maybe in the privacy of your own house or something, but not at a club."

"C-club?"

He gives you a look, "Where did you think we were going to meet your one night stands?"

You feel yourself blush at his blunt question, "Shh, keep it down," you hiss at him, wary of the other customers, though the boutique is relatively deserted on a Thursday at noon, "And when did we decide on going to a club?"

"We didn't, but I did," he informs you, "I already texted a friend to get us on the guestlist of that new place downtown, so we should be set for tomorrow night."

Your jaw drops, "Wait… seriously? Yoongi, we're going to go clubbing?"

"Yeah, is there a problem?" he asks, "How long has it been since you've gone?"

You pause to scour your memories, "I don't know… huh."

Yoongi's eyes narrow in suspicion, "___... Have you ever been to a club before?"

"Of course!" You hotly insist, before backtracking, "Wait… Does a frat party count?"

"A… frat party?" Yoongi spits out in indignation, "The last time you went out partying was at a frat party? When was that? Ten years ago?!"

"Just about," you admit in a small voice, "But I party all the time now!"

"Really?" he asks, eyes narrowing in suspicion, "Where do you go?"

"Well… we normally have dinner parties… Though I haven't been to one since the divorce hmm… Oh wait! I went to a bar mitzvah a few months ago!" you yell out in triumph, "There! See? I party all the time."

"A… bar mitzvah," Yoongi repeats, utterly shell-shocked, "You consider a thirteen-year-old boy's religious coming of age celebration a party?"

You sheepishly twist your hands together, "Is it not?"

He takes a second to massage his temples with his fingertips before responding, "What kind of backwards, 16th century Puritan civilization did you come from?"

Offended, you swat at his shoulder, "Sorry not everyone is as much of a party animal as you, you player."

"Player?" he snorts, "Well, I guess that's one of the nicer names girls have called me in the past…"

Your nose automatically wrinkles in distaste, "Gross… Though I guess I can't complain since I'm asking you to help me out… Which reminds me… What about a compromise? How about this one?" you say, pulling out a shimmery white dress from the rack.

Yoongi pauses to critically examine the garment in your hand, "Hmm."

You falter until his scrutiny, "Is the color too innocent? The hemline is really short though, look!"

"It looks nice. I think you should get it."

You blink at him in confusion, "Wait really? But it isn't one of those plunging vampy red ones you prefer!"

He smiles, "It's better for you to be comfortable during your first time clubbing."

"Oh… okay. I'll go try it on, then."

"Hurry, ___," he urges you, "We still have to go to Sephora."

"Wait, what? Yoongi, did you just say Sephora?"

But he simply rolls his eyes and points to the dressing room, "Hurry and get changed."

The next evening, you stand in front of the bathroom mirror, eyeliner clutched in hand as you try to recreate the shapes the makeup artist showed you yesterday.

"What's taking so long?" Yoongi calls out from the other room.

You flinch in surprise and stick your head out the bathroom door to look at him, "I'm sorry, Yoongi. Do you want some more wine?"

"No, I'm fine," he says, setting his empty glass on the table, "I could use a cocktail, though…"

You nervously rub your hands together, "I'm not that good at making cocktails… But I can try to make one for you!"

He shoots you a withering glare from where he sits, sprawled out across your sofa, "Does it ever tire you, how you go out of your way to please others?"

His blunt question completely stumps you. You can only helplessly gawk at him as he continues to stare through your layers of skin and makeup down to your very core. Then he sighs and breaks eye contact, "Just hurry it up. You don't need to put so much of that nonsense on your face anyways."

"But… but remember what the stylist said? In order to do a perfect smoky eye, I need to—"

"Eh, no one's going to see you in the dark anyways. Just put on that red lipstick I liked and you're good."

You frown at the tube of lipstick perched on the counter, "Is that enough, Yoongi? I'm not sure…"

He sighs as he pushes himself to his feet to approach you in the bathroom, "Let me see."

Confused, you turn your face towards him. You've only put on a base layer of foundation so far, and are bare-faced otherwise. Yoongi plucks the tube of lipstick from the counter and pops off the top to deliberate the color. Seemingly satisfied, he reaches over to grab your chin, making you jump in surprise.

"Yoongi—" You start, but he shushes you with a finger pressed to your lips.

"You don't need all that ridiculous gunk on your face that those stylists kept trying to sell you," he drawls as he lazily swipes the crimson lipstick across your upper lip, "You're already pretty."

Your heart skips a beat and you forget how to breathe entirely as he carefully traces the shape of your cupid's bow.

"I'm just making your prettiness stand out more," he informs you as he moves down to your bottom lip.

His hands are shockingly gentle on your face, something unexpected of your usually gruff classmate. His slender, nimble fingers caress your cheeks, smoothly brushing strands of hair away and supporting your jaw as he slicks on the brilliant ruby. There is something about the look of deep concentration in his eyes that makes your heart stutter. Has anyone looked at you with such focus before?

When he finishes and finally lets you go, you're too startled to move for a few seconds, "I…" You stammer when you finally catch your breath, "Thank you, Yoongi."

The corner of his mouth lifts as he pulls you by the shoulders to face the mirror, "Look at yourself, babe: beautiful, right?"

You curiously gaze at your reflection. He's right. There is something so flattering about that exact shade of blood-red that compliments the features of your face. Yoongi stands behind you in the mirror, his hands planted on your shoulders, and you can't help but admire the symmetrical planes of his face. The years have been too good to him. If he was handsome in college, he's a god now. In comparison, you look washed out and—old. You can see the fine wrinkles hiding under the layer of foundation, creeping at the corners of your mouth and your temples. Maybe five years ago, you could've been beautiful, but not now. Not that Minhyuk has ruined you and taken away your youth.

You sigh deeply, sagging in his grip, "I think I need more makeup."

He clicks his tongue in disagreement, "You're gorgeous, babe. Let's just go before the guestlist closes."

"But, Yoongi," you protest.

He simply shakes his head, "You seriously could score any guy you wanted in the club looking like this. Trust me."

"What are you talking about? The place is going to be swarming with barely legal girls. Don't even joke about this," you lightly chastise him.

He snorts, "Shut up. You're hotter than any dumb twenty-year-old. Now go get dressed, alright?"

You can't help but follow after him as he drags you to the bedroom by the hand.

The outside of the club is hectic, swarming people dressed to the nines; girls with skintight dresses and perfectly coiffed locks and men with their shiny dress shirts, buttoned scandalously low on their defined chests.

Everyone is so ridiculously beautiful that you can't help but gawk at the rows of fashionable young people, even when Yoongi grabs you by the hand to yank you past them to the front of the line. You stumble in your heels in order to catch up, but you're so clumsy in these rarely-worn shoes that you trip, and Yoongi has to wrap an arm around your waist in order to escort you to the front of the line.

"Min Yoongi."

You falter, gaping at the sheer audacity of your friend to stroll past the disgruntled people in line to where the bouncer stands at the very front. You tug at his hand, embarrassed beyond belief, but to your utmost surprise, the bouncer nods. Then, he moves down to unhook the rope barrier, allowing you entrance into the exclusive club without any further questioning.

"Have a great night, sir."

"Thanks." And with that, he brushes past the indignant line and straight into the club. You have to jog a bit to catch up, and can't help but stare behind at the crowd of people with wide eyes, "How did you…? Min Yoongi, who are you?"

He chuckles at your star struck expression, "It's just a friend of a friend who got us in. It's not a big deal."

Still, you gawk, "How do you even have friends like that? The only friends I have are a handful of high school girlfriends, Minhyuk's coworkers' wives, and well, you of course."

"See?" Yoongi's smile broadens, "This is friend of a friend of a friend to you. Now you're turning into me."

Before you can object to that statement, Yoongi ushers you past security check, and down the long, dark hallway to the club's interior. You can already hear the noisy electronic music pounding from this distance, and the closer you approach, the louder it gets. Your heart rate increases in time with the breakneck tempo of the music, until your heart is thumping painfully in your chest. Soon, your palms grow so sweaty that it becomes difficult to grasp onto Yoongi's hand any longer, and you try to pull away, embarrassed.

His response is to hold on tighter to your hand. Your protest dies in your throat when he finally leads you through the narrow, twisting hall, down past the actual entrance. At once, you are inundated with sensory overload. If the music was loud in the hall, it's deafening now. Voices of hundreds of people in the packed club, yelling to be heard over one another, add to the chaos. And all you can see is neon strobe lights and flashing colors, causing your head to throb and your eyes to close in a feeble attempt to ward off the electric lights.

Yoongi notices your discomfort and leads you towards the bar, "It's not what you imagined, huh?" he wryly comments as he guides you into an empty seat.

"At least it's a bit cleaner than a frat party."

He chuckles, "Just you wait until the end of the night."

"I can't believe people are having fun here," you say, glancing over at the dense mosh pit surrounding the DJ at the center of the room, "How do they have so much energy?"

"You're saying this like a true sober person," Yoongi laughs, "I'll get us something to drink."

He flags down the bartender and orders two drinks. You thank him and when the tequila sinks down to the pit of your stomach, your nerves finally ease off, "Wow, I haven't drank anything but a glass of wine here and there since college."

"Really?" Yoongi asks in surprise, "Do you not like the taste?"

"No, it's fine… It's just that…" you absentmindedly run a finger over the rim of your glass, "Well, Minhyuk always said it wasn't very ladylike for a woman of my age to drink hard liquor… I just didn't want to embarrass him."

Yoongi's eyes narrow, "Fuck that shit." Then, he's reaching across the counter to summon the bartender again, "This calls for another round."

Half an hour, and four drinks later, you find your inhibitions at an all-time low as you cling onto Yoongi's arm and gesture towards confused strangers passing by the bar.

"That girl, Yoongi!" You gasp, pointing at a curvy woman in all red at the edge of the dance floor.

The dark-haired man follows your gesturing, "Her? What's up with her?"

"She is so beautiful. Look at her ass in that dress!"

This makes him crack a smile, "I told you to wear red."

"I can't pull that off like she does," you whine, slumping your head against his shoulder in defeat.

"Yes, you can," he politely corrects you, "In fact, you'd look better than she does."

You snort in disbelief, "Yeah right."

"No, seriously. You do. Have you seen the people staring at you all night?"

"What? People are looking at me? Do I have something on my face?"

He grabs your hand before you can anxiously check, "No, that's not what I meant, kid. People—men actually—have been checking you out all night."

"Me?" You glance down at your relatively modest, but formfitting white dress in surprise, "Why?"

"Because you're hot," he bluntly informs you, "Look at that kid over there," he says, gesturing to a brunette man with rounded cheeks in the middle of the dance floor, "He nearly went cross-eyed and ran into a wall trying to look up your skirt when he passed by earlier."

"Really?" you ask, rubbing your eyes to get a better look at the stranger. "But he's so cute…"

"You think so?" Yoongi says in surprise, "Alright, then I guess we've got your target for the night."

"Wait, Yoongi!" You hiss, "Look at him, though! He's so gorgeous. And look at him dancing. He really knows how to move. Damn," you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of him grinding his hips to the rhythm. Even at this distance, you can see the way his thick thighs bulge against his leather pants with every motion, "How can I even approach him?!"

Yoongi snorts, "Just grind on him a bit and he'll be eating out of your hand in no time."

"G-grind on him?" You stammer, "But I… I don't know how to dance!"

"It's a nightclub, babe. No one knows how to dance."

"B-but," you continue to stutter, "I just… I don't know if I can—"

"Fine, I'll show you," Yoongi interrupts with a sigh, "Finish your drink and let's go."

You're helpless but to obey, knocking back your rum and coke and grabbing his arm for support when he abruptly hops off the barstool to saunter towards the dance floor. He looks so good in his dark silk shirt that molds to his lean form with his black hair pushed back from his forehead that you almost forget how to breathe in the humid club.

He carelessly pushes past the crowd of people until he leads you to a spot within viewing distance of the man in the tight leather pants. Then, before you can question him, he spins you around and pulls you flush against him. You freeze at the feeling of the hard planes of his body pressed against your backside. This is the most intimate you've ever been with another man other than your husband in your entire life, and it's disorienting to say the least. You're so shocked that you can't bring yourself to move, even when Yoongi begins swaying to the music.

"Why are you so stiff, babe?" he murmurs, and the feeling of his hot breath against the sensitive shell of your ear makes you jump in surprise.

You're glad that your back is facing him so that he can't see the embarrassment coloring your face, "I… uh… I don't know how to dance," you stutter, self-conscious despite the alcohol lubricating your movements.

He snorts in response, "You don't need to know how. Just move your hips in time with mine."

But you're even more flustered when he begins to rock against the curve of your ass, "I… I don't know if I'm doing this right," you say as you cautiously swivel in a circle.

"Just experiment, baby," he practically purrs in your ear, sending shivers down your spine, "You'll know what you're doing is right if you can get me hard."

Your heart flies up to lodge in your throat as you instantly break into sweat. But you can't deny the way his words make strange arousal slide in the pit of your stomach, "Yoongi…"

But he shushes you by sliding his hands down your arms to your waist, "Is this okay?" he asks as he gently touches your sides.

"Yes," you say at once. Because it's more than okay. You skin tingles from where he's touched you, and if you were a braver woman, you'd lean back and allow yourself melt into his embrace. Instead, you try to keep a polite space between your bodies, with only your pelvises connecting as you tentatively rock back against him.

A few minutes pass like this, and you grow more comfortable, losing yourself to the heavy bass pulsing through the club. Slowly, your movements grow more sensual, spurred on by Yoongi's encouraging hands stroking up and down the curve of your waist to grab at your hips, until you're finally grinding back against him with reckless abandon. You can feel the roughness of his jeans and the metallic bite of his zipper against your ass and it's so sexy that your face burns. The conservative, married little you of just last year wouldn't dare doing something so scandalous. Minhyuk would tell you that only cheap sluts behave in this manner, but now that you've experienced it… How can something that feels so good be so bad?

The alcohol has officially hit you, and when you push your ass back to twist against his in a particularly hard stroke, Yoongi suddenly sucks in a little gasp through his teeth, hands grabbing at your hips in a way that makes the soft skin bruise at once.

And that's when you feel him for the first time. He's so hard, his erection nearly branding you even through the fabric of his jeans that you're shocked you haven't noticed earlier. It's the alcohol and the blinding noise of the club that have muted your senses. It's so surprising that you can't bring yourself to believe it at first. This is Min Yoongi, your cool and collected fuckboi friend who has never had trouble having girls fight for his dick in hordes. And yet, this treasured dick of his is hard against your ass.

When had he given you any indication that he was even enjoying himself? Besides that little inhale, he had made no sound whatsoever and the rather half-assed motion of his hips to meet yours made you think that he didn't care at all. It was weird enough grinding against someone you've only ever considered a friend, and even weirder knowing that you've somehow, miraculously turned him on so much that he's sporting a full-fledged boner in public. You experimentally rub yourself against him again, this time intentionally aiming for his erection, and Yoongi groans softly before clamping both hands down on your hips to hold you still.

"___," he murmurs your name in a voice so deep that you can barely hear the rumbles over the music, "I think you're ready."

"Wh-what?" you stammer in surprise, but he's already moved you away from him with a little push.

You totter in your sky-high heels before turning your head to stare at him in confusion. But he just rolls his eyes and gestures his head to the left. You turn to look in that direction, and your mouth drops at the sight of the hot guy in the leather pants staring right at you. Startled, you rip your gaze away, embarrassed that you had been caught staring, and awkwardly begin swaying to the music again, as though you could pretend as though nothing had happened.

A hand on your arm nearly makes you jump out of your skin in surprise. You whirl around to find the hot guy standing right in front of you.

"Oh, oops, I didn't mean to scare you," he says, immediately removing his hand from you, "I was just wondering if your boyfriend left you?"

"He's not my boyfriend," you say at once, hypnotized by the stranger's good looks. There's something so charming about his eye smile and the way his ash blonde hair falls across his forehead, "I don't even know him," you add for effect.

"Oh, is that so?" He asks, head cocking to the side with curiosity, "Then would you like to dance with me instead?"

Is this for real? Could the best-looking guy in the entire club really have sought you out specifically? With all these other prettier, younger girls swarming around you?

You realize that you must look like an idiot, gaping at him with wide eyes and your jaw hanging, but you catch yourself in time and hurriedly nod, "Yes, I would love that."

"Great," he says with a smile so bright, it's nearly blinding even in the dark club. Then he takes you by the arm and spins you around to press against his chest.

Unlike Yoongi who kept a polite distance between your bodies and made sure to keep his hands only on your sides, this stranger has no such sensibilities. He boldly pulls you against him so that every inch of your body is pressed up against him, leaving nothing to the imagination. He's still a gentleman, though, and you know that he would willingly release you if you asked, judging by the way he waits until you've leaned back against him to wrap his arms around your waist, but why would you ever do such a thing? This man is built like a wall of pure muscle behind you, and it's so intoxicating that it takes everything in your power to keep your hands to yourself.

"What's your name?" He murmurs in your ear, his clear voice easily discernible over the rumbling bass.

"___," you tell him, marveling at the juxtaposition between the angelic tones of his voice and the hard, sinful planes of his body.

"My name is Park Jimin," he says in response, "It's nice to meet you, beautiful."

You're so flustered by the compliment—one of the first compliments by someone other than your husband in what feels like years (though when has Minhyuk ever made an effort to compliment you?)— that you're unsure how to respond. But the moment to strike up a conversation has passed and the music has changed from the rabid tempo to a slow, sexy beat. As a result, you also slow down, swirling your hips in wide, sensual circles in time to his movements.

Jimin is unbelievably flexible, every thrust forward so deliciously fluid that you fear that you might have soaked through your panties. You can't remember that last time you've ever been so turned on. Certainly not when you were married. After the first year together, Minhyuk didn't bother to turn you on anymore. Why would he? It was a waste of time. Who cared if you were in the mood or if you actually enjoyed yourself? You only existed for his pleasure.

Anger flares through your system, and in an unprecedented moment of boldness, you whirl around in Jimin's hold to face him. His eyes widen slightly, indicating his surprise, but the smile that unfurls across his handsome face reveals his delight.

"Damn you're really gorgeous."

You want to brush it off as a trick of your makeup or the lighting. But besides your lipstick, you're wearing minimal makeup, and despite the darkness of the club, your faces are so close to each other's that you can see every detail without problem.

"Thank you," you whisper, trying to sound more confident than you are as you feel one of his legs slide between yours as he begins to move to the music again.

This position is a thousand times more intimate than the previous. Not only is every inch of your body pressed up against him, but your face is inches away from him, so close that you press both hands against his chest, subconsciously attempting to put distance between the two of you. But of course he takes you touching him as a sign to go ahead and slide his hands down to your hips, forcibly holding you to his groin. And that's when you finally register the hardness pressing up against your lower stomach.

Your first instinct is to shriek in embarrassment and clap your hands over your burning cheeks. Somehow, you manage to keep standing like an adult and not curl up fetal position from the intensity of his gaze. His eyes are so dark with arousal, the midnight black of his pupils swallowing any lingering color from his irises whole, that you fear for your life. Despite his angelic appearance, he looks like a predator ready to eat you whole.

"Is this okay?" he asks as he slides his muscular thigh up to grind against your core.

Your eyes pop open in surprise as unexpected pleasure flashes through your system. Then you're hastily bobbing your head up and down to convey your appreciation, "Yes!"

He smiles then—no, smirks, and rubs his thigh harder between your legs. "Good," he murmurs, hot breath fanning across your face, "How about this?" And then his hands are creeping down to the curve of your ass.

You gasp out loud when both hands suddenly grab at your cheeks, "Yes!" you blurt out again, so dazed by pleasure that you can't bring yourself to care about how he's groping you in public where anyone can see, "Oh god, Jimin…"

He licks his plump lips at that, "Mmm. I like the way you say my name, baby."

His lips are so full and red and enticing with the glean of his saliva. And that tongue that peeks out from the corner of his mouth… You're being rude, staring at his lips and not at his eyes, but you can't help yourself. Like a woman possessed, you find yourself stumbling forward, lips puckered to feel his and eyes fluttered shut. He's so hot that you really can't control yourself. And judging by the hardness prodding you in the stomach, he feels the same way too.

True to your prediction, as soon as your lips touch his, he groans softly, then immediately deepens the kiss with a hand pressed to the back of your head to urge you along. And when his tongue slides against the crease of your lips, forcing you to open up to him, your mind blanks entirely…

Yoongi can see everything from his position at the bar. He must be a complete masochist, but he can't help but watch as you dance with the stranger, with the erection you created still painfully present in his pants. Yoongi can't tell if it's because of your dancing or because you're just fucking hot, but he's inclined to think it's the latter. At almost thirty, Yoongi isn't the type to pop boners from just a bit of grinding action anymore. But the fact that it was you made it impossible not to.

Yoongi can only imagine what that lucky man is feeling, getting to touch you like that while looking at your beautiful face. It makes him feel so damn bitter that for a moment, he hates himself. He hates feeling like this—so jealous and petty instead of being the supportive friend he's supposed to be. He's supposed to be feeling happy for you, and the fact that it's taken so little to break you out of your shell. Hell, just a day ago, you were scandalized by the thought of wearing anything other than a funeral dress to a club, and today, you have some random dude's tongue down your throat.

He hastily throws back the rest of his whisky, but the caustic liquor doesn't mute the ugliness of his emotions. "Shit," he curses under his breath before flagging the bartender down for another drink. He really should just go home… Clearly you're doing well on your own and you don't need any of his help tonight. Besides, you have your cell phone and you can just call him if anything comes up… Not that it will. You're having plenty of fun, it seems.

Overcome with the bitter feelings, Yoongi quickly pays off his bill before taking a hearty sip of his drink. But if anything, the alcohol just fans the flames. He sits back in his seat to sulk and imagine himself in that blonde bastard's place— only to realize that you've disappeared from his line of vision.

Yoongi blinks in confusion and rubs his eyes, but the brightness of your white dress in the drab crowd has disappeared. You're nowhere to be seen. And there's that blonde asshole standing in the middle of the dancefloor by himself, looking like a major loser. Yoongi is equal parts pleased and concerned as he scans the club, but suddenly you are jumping at him from nowhere and grabbing at his wrist.

"Hurry, Yoongi, run!" you urge him in a hushed tone.

A sane person would stop to question you. Instead, he jumps right off his stool and runs with you, anywhere you lead.

"___, what's wrong?" he asks when you drag him past the bouncers and the line of people into the nearest alleyway.

You can't respond, so out of breath and visibly shaken that all you can do is pant. This increases Yoongi's concern double fold, "___..." he murmurs your name softly, reaching to touch your arm.

But the moment his hand makes contact with your skin, you burst into tears.

Yoongi snaps his hand back at once, shocked by your reaction, "What happened, ___? Did that son of a bitch do something to you?!"

You hastily shake your head, trying to respond, but too choked up by tears to speak. It takes a few seconds, but finally you find your voice, "N-no. He was a gentleman… I just… I… I feel like such a slut," you choke out before breaking down into tears again.

"What?" He exclaims, horrified by what you've called yourself, "Why?"

Your eyes drop to your feet in humiliation, "Yoongi… That was the only person I've ever kissed besides Minhyuk in my entire life."

The realization hits him like a ton of bricks. Yoongi doesn't respond for a moment, simply studying you with an unreadable expression in the dark alley. Finally, he sighs and pulls out his phone, "I'm calling a cab," he informs you, "To take us back to my place."

"Here, drink this," he says, handing you a steaming cup of tea in his living room half an hour later, before taking a seat next to you on the sofa.

"Thank you," you say, meekly accepting the drink while you try not to be too obvious in the way you're scanning his apartment. Although he's been over to your house a few times in the past, Minhyuk has never allowed you to visit him in turn. In fact, you've never been to an unmarried male's home before, and the realization should be frightening, but you feel yourself strangely at ease with Yoongi.

He waits until you take a sip of your drink before he speaks, "Now can you please tell me where these ridiculously archaic thoughts of yours have come from?"

You smile faintly at him, "I guess I'm very backwards with my thinking…" Now that all your makeup's been washed off and that you feel fresh in a borrowed pair of sweats from your host, you're comfortable enough to share your thoughts.

Yoongi's brow crinkles in concern, "You can't possibly think that a woman who kisses a man at a club is behaving inappropriately, can you?"

"No, of course not!" you exclaim at once, "Women should be allowed to do whatever the hell they want! But I… I just…"

"Can't apply those same standards to yourself?"

You look up, startled, but instantly drop your eyes back down to your lap under the scrutiny of his intense gaze, "No," you mumble in a small voice.

Yoongi exhales deeply, "What has this man done to you in the past decade to completely brainwash you like this?"

You bite down on your bottom lip and peek at him through your eyelashes, "I need to unlearn all of his manipulation, Yoongi…"

"Yes, you do… A kiss really isn't a big deal, ___. You know it isn't. And even if it was… Even if you had sex with that guy, then who cares? Your body is yours, ___. You can do whatever you want with it."

You suck a deep breath between your teeth, "You're right… A kiss really isn't a big deal."

Yoongi hums in agreement, "Mmhmm. Good girl."

There's a second of pause as you study your positions on the couch. He's seated a fair distance from you, an entire couch cushion between your bodies, but you could still reach out and touch him if you tried. He's only an arm's length away…

And with that, your mind is made and you lean forward to grab him by the collar of his shirt. Yoongi looks up in surprise at your sudden aggression, "___? What are you—?"

But you cut him off with a rough kiss. The kiss lasts about a second, and is really just a close-lipped press of your mouth to his, before you're breaking off in embarrassment. "Sorry," you mumble, retreating back into your seat. This is the third person you've kissed in your life. Oh god, why are you going so all out tonight?! This is humiliating to say the least.

But before you can leave to wallow in mortification, Yoongi's hands shoot out to grab your face, holding you in place as he reconnects your lips. It feels different from the kiss with Jimin, where you were running on adrenaline and tequila. It feels more intimate, but also so much more comfortable. Instead of shying away, you feel the painful knot in your chest loosen. And you realize, then and there, that you would trust Yoongi with your life.

"See?" Yoongi murmurs when he finally allows you a breath of air, "Not so scary, is it?"

You laugh softly at that, all the tension leaving your body. All it took was one brush of his lips against yours and you've already forgotten what you were upset about in the first place, "No, it's not," you exhale deeply.

It's a bit uncomfortable craning half of your body over the couch to kiss him, and your spine aches within seconds, "Ah, my back hurts," you giggle, shifting to move back to your original position.

But his grip on your face holds firm, "Just sit in my lap."

You pause at that, "…Yoongi?"

"Come on. Just get over here."

Flustered, you can't help but obey, awkwardly clambering across the cushions and swinging your legs on either side of his hips. Minhyuk doesn't like you displaying any dominance, whether real or perceived, and you topping in any way was a major pet peeve of his. As a result, you feel utterly out of your element sitting on his thighs, "Is this okay?" you ask in a quiet voice.

Yoongi rolls his eyes at your concerned expression, "Come on. You rubbed up against my erection in a room full of people. This is nothing compared to that."

"Yeah… I guess you're right," you murmur, sitting more comfortably on him, "Are you sure this is okay though? I'm not too heavy?"

"No offense, ___, but shut up," he says, playfully pressing a finger against your lips, "There is nothing I love more than a hot girl in my lap, so don't fucking start."

You giggle at that, flattered by his strange compliment, before his lips are suddenly against yours again, quickly muting your laughter.

Yoongi kisses you with lethargic confidence, never bothering to raise his head to meet your kisses, but the hands banded on your thighs keep you firmly in place. It feels weird to kiss someone other than your husband of nearly a decade, but strangely right. Yoongi's lips are slightly chapped, but so soft and pliant against yours. He doesn't try to shove his tongue down your throat like what you're used to, but gently coaxes your mouth open with fleeting skims of his wet muscle across your sensitive bottom lip.

With time, you grow bolder, both hands reaching for his sleek black hair to play with as your tongue begins to tangle with his. Although the kiss becomes deeper and more heated, the pace stays as slow as ever. His lips sensually move and slide against yours, wet smacks filling the air as he pulls back every few seconds to admire your face or suck your bottom lip into his mouth, nibbling on the sensitive flesh.

You're not sure how long you make out with Yoongi for, but when you swipe your tongue across the inside of his mouth, leisurely tasting him to your heart's content, he suddenly pulls away with a rueful sigh, "Sorry, ___. I want to apologize in advance for what's about to happen."

You stare down at his reddened lips, too focused on another taste to really process what he's saying, "What do you mean?"

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to pop another boner," he sighs again.

"Wait, really?" That finally catches your attention and your gaze quickly shifts from his mouth to his eyes.

"Yeah," he says, pale skin uncharacteristically pink with embarrassment, "In fact, I think it's already too late… Please let me know if this makes you uncomfortable."

You shake your head with a little smile, "No, not at all. In fact, it's kind of flattering… It's nice to know that I can still have this kind of an effect on a man."

"How many times do I have to tell you that you're ridiculously fucking hot before you believe me?" Yoongi grumbles under his breath.

Your smile widens at the compliment, "This is really nice of you to say, Yoongi."

He lets out a disgruntled huff before promptly grabbing your hips and forcing you to scoot forward on his lap, "I'm not trying to be nice, darling. I'm telling you the fucking truth—look what you do to me."

Your eyes widen as the movement has you sitting directly on top of his rock-hard length. Like you, Yoongi has changed out of his clubbing gear for an outfit of sweatpants and a soft henley, and as a result, you can feel every inch of his erection pressed against you with excruciating detail. He's bigger than what you would have expected for the slender man, and so, so, so hard.

Your mouth forms a perfect "O" of surprise as you struggle for words, "I… um… Do you need a hand with that?" you ask, guilt wracking your chest when you realize how uncomfortable he must be.

"What?" his eyes widen, "Do you mean…?"

"I can give you a handjob," you shyly offer, "To take off the edge off… If you'd like, of course."

There's a moment of silence as Yoongi gawks at you in stunned silence, his jaw comically hanging. Then, he quickly snaps it back up and collects himself, "It's okay, ___," he gruffly says, "You don't have to."

"Oh… okay," you say, confused. You've never been turned down by Minhyuk when he was obviously horny before, and you're unsure what to make of this. Maybe you should just get off of him and give him some space?

"… But we can keep kissing… if you're down for that."

A delighted smile flashes across your face, pleasantly surprised by his unexpected offer, "Yes, please!"

But Yoongi can only handle about another half an hour of this before he has to forcibly put distance between the two of you.

"No," you childishly protest when he finally detaches his mouth from yours, "Just a little more…"

He allows you to kiss him for a few more seconds, before he pulls away with a grunt, "Ugh, ___. I really need to cool down." He can feel the sweat building at his forehead and sliding down the back of his shirt. His heart is thundering at an embarrassing speed and he can't control his panting. The erection pressed up against your thigh feels like it's going to explode out of his pants, and the pain is all he can think about.

"One more minute?" you beg, completely oblivious to his agony.

He hesitates, seduced by your pouting lips and wide-eyed innocence, "Fine," he grumbles, "But I'm setting an alarm. One minute and that's it, okay?"

You laugh in delight as you watch him pull out his phone, "Yes, I promise."

He curses himself softly for his weakness as he presses the button to start the timer. You eagerly bounce back on his lap, carelessly brushing against his erection as you seek out his lips again. Yoongi's stomach flips at the sensations and it's all he can do to keep from thrusting up into your delicious heat. He can't remember the last time he's been on edge like this before, so unbelievably aroused but unable to do anything about it. And with every passing second, it gets worse and worse, with your teasing tongue contributing directly to the growing ache in his groin.

Every instinct screams at him to take you. You're just so fucking female on top of him—so warm and soft and unbelievably pliant under his touch. And the way you absentmindedly rock against him as you chase after his lips is exactly the same way you'd move if he was balls deep inside of you…

That very thought has blood soaring towards his already swollen cock, and Yoongi is so damn frustrated that he can't help but groan. All that separates him from his desires are your loose sweatpants. Yoongi has never wanted anything so much as to rip that pesky fabric to shreds. How could he have refused that handjob from you earlier? It's not even a question anymore—he's seriously a masochist and now he's going fucking insane. Maybe it's not too late… You're so nice and always eager to please. If he asks you now, he really can't imagine that you'd refuse…

The jarring sound of his alarm forcibly rips him from his unsavory thoughts. "O-okay, we're done," he says, moving his face out of the way when you reach for another kiss. This causes you to settle for his neck instead, making him nearly lose his fucking mind when he feels your tongue caressing the ultra-sensitive skin. Luckily, you slide yourself off his lap before he can give into his baser desires and tackle you to the couch.

"Alright," you say with a deep sigh of disappointment.

"I'll call you a cab," he says as he reaches for his phone with shaky fingers.

"Okay," you moodily agree, trying not to sound too petulant as you watch him scramble to his feet, aimlessly rearranging pieces of furniture in the living room, "Yoongi, are you alright?"

He looks up in surprise at the sound of his voice, "Yes, of course I am. Why would I not be?"

You cock your head to the side in curiosity as you notice how hard he's sweating for the first time. Damn. You shouldn't have overcrowded him like that on the couch. You must've suffocated him with your heat, and you feel terrible about it.

"I'm sorry."

That stops him in his tracks. Yoongi freezes in the action of adjusting a vase on the side table to look at you, "What? What for?"

"For everything," you sigh, "And I also want to thank you… You really are a good friend."

He offers you a thin smile in response, "Of course. I would do anything for you."

You beam back in delight, genuine happiness flooding your features. What have you done in a past life to deserve a friend like Min Yoongi? This must be karma finally getting you back for years of misery with Minhyuk. And at last, it all seems worth it.

Yoongi can't remember ever being in this much pain as he practically limps to the bathroom as soon as you've left. He impatiently shoves his pants to mid-thigh and grasps his throbbing length without a second thought, sighing in relief at the feeling. It's not as good as your touch, clearly, but he'll take all he can get at this moment.

After being on edge for so long, it takes him an embarrassingly short amount of time to get himself off… So it's probably better that he didn't let you touch him. He'd never recover from the humiliation of bursting prematurely all over you like a prepubescent little boy… No, it's better this way… Painful, but better.

Yoongi grunts when he finally finds his release, as anticlimactic as it may be, and cleans himself off with a deep sigh. Why, oh why did he ever agree to help you with this? He might not survive to the end…

But somehow, he finds it all worth it. Because even though you're unaware of it, you're worth it.

A/N: Sorry that it took me so long to write this, but please don’t ask about future updates!

And as you might have guessed, please look forward to guest appearances by the other members in future chapters! ;)

#bts scenarios #bts scenario #yoongi scenarios #yoongi scenario #noonanet #begin again #yessss it's finally here!#sorry in advance for the mistakes

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