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violetsiren90 · 10 months

Text

What the Moon Saw

Pairing: Yoongi x f!Reader

Genre: One-shot; non-idol AU; friends to lovers; young love; summer nights, angst/fluff/smut

Summary: Having been with each other through thick and thin, you and your childhood friend, Yoongi, realize that nobody knows how to say goodbye.

Listen to: "Nobody Knows How to Say Goodbye" by The Lumineers

Drabbles: Stolen Tides; Beacons Ashore

Content Warnings: 18+ (minors dni); allusions to domestic abuse; divorce of parents; cigarette smoking; infidelity (not between main couple); kissing; hickeys; making out; hand jobs; oral sex (female receiving); loss of virginity (female); moments of body insecurity; unprotected sex; cumming inside; cockwarming; characters are ADULTS at the time of their sexual encounter; LOTS of emotions

Author's note: I moved. Like, a block away from the beach, and the views and the vibes have me ALL up in my feels. I wrote this in two nights and then sat on it. I wasn't sure if I was going to post it or just keep it in my heart because parts of it are so personal to me. BUT, here it is. I want to give inspiration credit to @orchidyoonkook , because I will never ever be able to write young love or Yoongi without being influenced by the beauty that is Under the Willow Tree. 💕 If anyone chooses to read this little love story of mine, I hope it brings you something wholesome!

If no one has told you yet today, you are loved and worthy of love! 🧜‍♀️💜

You inhaled deeply, taking the salty air into your lungs as you gazed out over the cliff side and across the rippling blue that stretched on and on until it met the soft pink glow of the horizon. Your eyes tracked the tide lapping at the smooth sands. You slipped off your heels to meet the cool pavement, but you could feel it already - the soft golden grains molding to meet your steps. These shores hadn't borne your footprints in over a decade, but here you were, drawn back again by the hypnotic crash of the sea and the lonely call of the gulls. It felt as though you had never left. You leaned over the railing of the rickety staircase that wove its way down the cliff side into the sand and scree. Your gaze trailed down the steps, one by one, until you saw it, jutting out halfway down: the lip of a ledge in the rock face. Your breath caught in your chest. Old, familiar feelings of a time gone by washed over you. The years rolled back like clouds from the sun in the western sky.

You were nineteen.

You shivered, drawing your knees up and hugging them to you as sat on the thick woolen blanket you had laid over the cool stone of the ledge. Even on a summer night like this, you should have worn something more practical. But you had worn your cotton sundress with the cherries. He had once told you that you looked like the main character in that dress, and it had been your favorite ever since.

You watched the moon dance on the dark water and thought about all it had seen. It had been watching the little alcove from the beginning. It had seen you the summer after your first year of middle school, wrapped in a blanket with book between your hands, as you took refuge from the emotional turmoil that shook your house nearly every night leading up to your parents' divorce. It had seen the boy one night, wandering the beach with a cigarette and busted lip, trying to smoke away the tears in his eyes. It had seen the boy climb the stairs, only to discover his favorite hiding place was already harboring another runaway. It had seen you look at him - skinny limbs in a jacket and ripped jeans not lanky on his small frame, tussled dark hair, round face, little bleeding pouted lips, dark sharp eyes wide with surprise - and consider that he was likely the most beautiful thing you had ever laid eyes on. It had seen him offer you a cigarette which you refused. It had seen him ask you for a light, which you didn't have. And then it had seen you become friends. Best friends. It had watched you become all that the other truly had in the small, beautiful, painful world of a child. And now it would watch him amble up the beach one last time to find you there.

Yoongi. He had been so upset when you told him that you were leaving for college, but he had tried his best not to show it. He was always like that, keeping things deep inside. You had to wait and watch and listen and coax them out. You could always find the right time to do it, when he felt safe to let you. Most nights, though, it was you pouring out every little thing in your heart. Yoongi loved it when you did that. He would listen with the softest little smile and warm eyes, creasing in the corners, as he watched your hands move with as much animation as your voice when you spoke. His nearly-silent breathy laugh would come like a breeze off the sea and waft around you, lifting your spirits and cleansing your soul. His rare, full smile spreading in breathtaking beauty over his face, pulling his upper lip away from his gums. There were the good times, and the bad ones. On hard nights you would hold each other in silence, letting the beat of the other's heart and the steady undulation of the tide carry you through to the dawn.

You remembered the first time you had awakened in his arms after such a night. The light had just started to stream over the tops of the cliffs, painting the water in rose gold. You had shivered, feeling the dampness of the cool salty air in your hair. And then you had looked up and seen him there, holding you, still fast asleep. His face was angelic, little pink lips just parted, chest rising and falling with the swell of his breath, and you swore you could endure anything life threw at you if the first thing you saw each day were his dark lashes resting gently on the apples of his cheeks. Yoongi had finally stirred and blinked down at you, just gazing silently - the little warm smile in his eyes rather than on his lips. In that moment, something had changed. In the weeks that followed, you thought you had never felt so many things at once.

You felt giddy. You felt a little sick. You felt like you could fly.

You were in love.

You were in love and you had very nearly worked up the courage to do something about it when you saw it - that horrid little purple bruise right below his ear. You had asked him if his father had done it and he had been confused at first. But when you brushed your fingers so softly over the mark, his eyes had widened and he had recoiled, pulling up the collar of his jacket to obscure it from your view. He had insisted that he was fine and not to worry. But worry you did, all the way up to the day you realized what the little bruise really was. Then your worry morphed into something different. You felt sick again, but this time it felt like a burden. You had chided yourself for being so stupid. He was beautiful and sixteen, of course he was involved with girls - girls that weren't you. Your heart broke. You pieced it back together with the succor of his friendship, and, soon, you started seeing other boys too. But you never let them give you purple bruises. You didn't want them from their lips.

As the seasons went by, you remained tethered to one another. Regardless of friends or suitors who would come and go, you knew each other in a way that no one else could. A way that didn't require words. Laughter bubbled up without effort or restraint. Fights ended in tears and forehead kisses and never lasted more than a few moments. Never past parting. Until one day a few weeks ago when he had told you that a boy you were going with was seeing another girl. Yoongi had never liked your boyfriend, and so you had reacted badly, gotten defensive and let yourself be angry with him for telling you. You had snapped at him to mind his own business. When he had insisted that you were his business you had said no you weren't, not in that way. He had gone quiet. So quiet. And then he had left. And he hadn't come the next night. Or the night after that.

You were so angry and anxious, and you told yourself you wouldn't wait for him another night, so you stayed home for the rest of the week. Then, on the third night away, you had tucked yourself into bed only to imagine Yoongi waiting for you, alone in the darkness. You had whipped off your covers and gone to find him in your pajamas. When he had seen you he had jumped up, throwing his cigarette aside, and crushed you in his arms. He had hugged you from the other side of the railing, not even waiting for you to climb over, then lifted you to stand before him on the ledge where he had enveloped you in his arms again. You had tried to apologize, but he wouldn't let you. And then you told him what you had been dreading to tell him all summer: you were leaving. He hadn't reacted. He had just held you in silence. But there was something different in him now, something that had his eyes trained immovably on the horizon. Something that wouldn't let him look at you. Something that distracted him from all you had to say as his thumbs brushed softly over your arms. He had looked at you so strangely before you had parted that night.

Now you were meeting one last time before you would watch the little coastal town and all its hurts disappear in your rearview mirror. You needed a second chance and this scholarship might be your only shot. Your reverie broke as you noticed a figure shuffling down the waterline in the bright light of the waxing gibbous. The figure sprung nimbly, with practiced steps, up the stairs, and lightly vaulted the rail, landing with a soft thud, catlike, a few feet from where you sat. He stepped forward, standing over you as he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket. He was wearing tight khakis, white tennis shoes, and a plain white tee under his green military jacket. With a smoke tucked behind his ear and that little smirk on his lips, you thought he might be cooler than Steve McQueen.

"Got a light?" he asked coolly, shoving the pack of Marlboros back in his pocket. You rolled your eyes.

"Of course not, Yoongi. And why on earth do you always ask me that when you've got one anyway?"

Yoongi smiled to himself as he brought a lighter to the little yellow-tipped cylinder between his lips. It was a secret kind of smile, the kind that made you want to snatch the cigarette from between his teeth. But tonight wasn't for fighting, even the bickering kind. He eased himself down beside you with his signature careful grace. You sat in silence, gaze trained out over the water. While you were looking elsewhere, he relaxed, and you tracked his movements in your peripheral vision. You would do this sometimes, especially when he was particularly guarded. He had always been bad at eye contact, but if you gave him a little space he would let down his walls, and you could read him like a book. Just now, he had let his gaze settle on you. Smoke hissed through his lips, his mouth hanging open just a little in that way it did when he was lost to his thoughts. His eyes roved over you in a way that made you mouth go dry. You swallowed. He suddenly shifted his gaze, coughing a bit.

"I like this dress," he offered, like an apology.

"I know," you murmured with a smile.

"Yeah?" he questioned, brow furrowing, as he took another drag. He was quiet for a beat before pressing out another question. "Paul headed out east too?"

"I broke up with him," came your answer, but without a smile this time.

"Yeah?"

"Oh come on, Yoongi," you bit out, "You knew that was going to happen. That's why you told me!"

His jaw ticked ever so slightly.

"You know that's not true. He was cheating on you. I couldn't let you be in the dark about it - get hurt by another one of these assholes who don't deserve your time in the first place."

You sighed, frustration rising unbidden again as Yoongi casually hurtled the unspoken walls you had erected to make things easier.

"What I deserve is my business. I don't go chastising you for letting random bitches suck on your neck and god knows what else so that you don't feel lonely."

The remark had been soft but laced with venom, and you had regretted breaching your own resolve against negativity the moment the words had spilled from your lips.

"Random..." He stared at you intently, surprise and confusion mingling with another indiscernible expression in his eyes as they traced over your features. You were trying to think of a way, any way, to salvage the conversation when he huffed out a laugh.

"You did know what it was!"

"What?"

"That hickey you asked about sophomore year."

Your stomach flipped.

"How do you even remember that?" You blustered in incredulity.

"How do you?"

He was staring at you knowingly with those achingly beautiful dark eyes that always saw you. It was one of the things you loved most about him. But right now it was terrifying. Right now you wanted to escape, only, there was nowhere to go. So for a moment, just a moment, you didn't hide anymore.

"Because," you swallowed, trailing your eyes back up to his, your voice shaking a bit as you whispered, "I remember everything."

A beat. Two. You didn't make a disarming jest, or a hurried qualification. You didn't even blink. In a flash as quick and heavy as a summer storm, years of yearning filled your eyes like intangible tears, holding his face in your gaze before casting it back out over the sea. Yoongi had froze where he sat, eyes trained immovably on you before he suddenly stood, tossing his cigarette and cursing as he took a step toward the edge, weaving his fingers through his hair.

"What?" you asked, almost defensively.

He didn't turn around, but you could hear the emotion in his voice, his head bowed as he wrestled with the words.

"Nah, that's not fair. You're leaving...You're leaving and you're gonna make it even...even harder right now?"

Turns out you weren't the only one who had been building walls with invisible bricks. You jumped to your feet.

"Oh, so this is my fault? You've been telling me my whole life to get out! You convinced me to apply to the Ivy Leagues! You spent the last weeks pushing me away! I don't understand what you want from me, Yoongi!"

He turned toward you, pulling his bottom lip into his mouth, eyes on the ground.

"A clean break," he said lowly, "Not from you...for you. I just wanted you to run, no guilt no pain, and not look back."

You felt a lump rise in your throat as you shook your head.

"That's not how it works though. I was always going to look back. Whenever I was frightened or lost or uncertain. Whenever I woke up in the morning or closed my eyes to sleep, or laughed, or...or felt so much joy I didn't know what to do with it. I was always going to look back, Yoongi," You took a deep breath, "I was going to look for you."

Hot tears slipped down your cheeks as you grabbed his arm and pressed your wet face into his shoulder. You could feel his body shake with little sobs.

"Don't," he croaked out, "don't look for me."

"Sorry," you huffed a tearful laugh into the fabric of his sleeve, "I don't think my heart will listen to you. Pretty rough deal when it's yours after all."

You had tried to say it like a joke. It had come out like a promise.

Yoongi stilled. Everything stilled. For a moment, it was as if even the sea and the sky and the moon held their breath. He let his hands fall from where they covered his face. As he lifted his head and turned, you dropped his arm, thinking for one horrible moment that he meant to push you away. But he didn't. He reached for you, and gently, firmly - like every move he ever made, like every word he ever spoke - slipped his hand around the nape of your neck and pressed his mouth against yours.

You gasped softly against his lips.

Sweet, methodical, insistent. He slipped his tongue against your bottom lip and you tilted your head to slot your mouth against his, deepening the kiss as his tongue brushed languorously against your own. He tasted like mint and cigarettes and him. You could do this all day. A little dagger pierced your heart at the thought that you only had tonight. You stumbled back, tugging him down beside you onto the blanket. You pushed him to his back and slipped onto his lap, leaning down to reconnect your lips with his. He chuckled into your mouth, his cheeks still wet with tears.

"Slow down," he hummed.

"No," you murmured in simple defiance, kissing along his jaw before dipping to press your mouth to the soft flesh of his neck.

You licked softly, experimentally, along the side of his throat, and his fingers tightened against your waist. He tasted like salty skin and the alcohol of that cheap musky cologne he wore and Yoongi. You leaned back, supporting yourself with hands on either side of his head as you looked down at him.

"Can I?" you asked with a shy smile

"Hm?" he hummed, large, lithe hands massaging your waist.

"Leave a mark?"

His eyes squeezed into little crescent moons, and his mouth pulled up into a full smile he couldn't repress. He chuckled again, reaching up to brush his palm over your cheek, and nodded, tilting his head to the side to expose the creamy skin of his neck. Your heart hammered in your chest as you leaned down and placed an open-mouthed kiss to his throat before sucking until you had pulled a low, deep groan from him. You pushed up again, surprised at the sound, new and lovely, to find him flushed - his blown pupils darkening his eyes, and a little wet patch of smooth skin growing rosy against his throat. You felt a thrill rush through you, making you tremble. You leaned down and marked him again and again, pulling sweet moans from his lips until his neck and collarbones were littered with the proof of your mouth. You lifted your face to kiss him again, but after pressing his lips to yours twice, he pulled back.

"One more," he whispered, taking your hand from his face and guiding it down to the slight firm swell of the top of his left pec.

His eyes played over your face as you felt it softly against your fingertips - his heart. In a valiant fight for your composure, you pressed your eyes shut and buried your face in his chest. He ran a hand over the back of your head soothingly. You raised your face to meet his gaze again, choking out a little sob at the depth of its gentle affection. You slipped your fingers to the collar of his cotton tee and stretched it down and to the side, revealing his bare chest. With reverence you pressed your mouth to his skin, fulfilling his request.

No sooner had you raised your eyes to his again than he was pulling you against his lips and rolling you to your back. His weight sank into you as your mouths moved together and you thought, maybe, under his warmth was the only place you ever wanted to be. Your body responded to him seemingly of its own accord, your legs weaving around the backs of his thighs as a thrumming ache intensified at your core. As he moved to kiss your neck you found your hips rolling up, seeking relief for the sticky ache at their center, and you were met with a firm knot in his groin that pressed just where you were neediest. Your high-pitched whine was a sharp contrast to his low growl into your shoulder. It was intoxicating - his sensation, his sound, and you undulated against him over and over to slake your want on his growing hardness and hear his breath come quick against your ear. He began to rock against you in return, and soon you were whimpering into his neck, beads of sweat cooling on your forehead against the night air as each rut of his hips became overwhelming and not enough.

"Yoongi, please," you begged in a breathy moan, lightly squeezing the back of his neck and turning your damp forehead against his soft cheek.

He pushed up to look at you, brushing away the little hairs clinging to your brow. He looked as needy as you, but a little uncertain.

"What is it?" he asked. You knew he knew. You leaned up and kissed him chastely before letting your head fall back against the blanket.

"I want you," you murmured, suddenly barely able to look at him as the words formed on your lips.

Yoongi dipped to press another kiss to your mouth before sitting up and back on your thighs, and gently tugging you up with him. You noticed the bulge straining against the front of his khakis, and he winced slightly as he wiggled to adjust against your legs. He took your hands in his, that little smile tugging at the corners of his pink lips, tongue darting out lick at them as he considered you thoughtfully. Impatient, you pushed his jacket off his shoulder, which he fully shed and cast aside, and ran your hands over his cotton-clad chest. His muscle jumped when you grazed down over his stomach, which you thought must be as soft and lovely as the rest of him.

"Are you sure you want this to happen right now, with me?" he asked tenderly. You looked up at him, your brow pinched in question. "Your first time?"

You scoffed, your face heating as you looked away, brushing bits of sand from the blanket.

"How do you know if it's my first time?"

His little smile spread into a grin.

"Because I know," he offered, a bit smugly.

You toyed with the hem of his shirt.

"I'm sure," you murmured. And then you looked up at him. "Have you ever..."

"Yeah," he responded, almost like he was sorry, as he glanced down and took your hands in his again. He bit the bottom corner of his lip. "I don't have a condom."

You felt your heart pounding as the concept of him taking you where you sat became increasingly real.

"So pull out," you offered nonchalantly, hoping you sounded far more experienced than he knew you were.

He nodded. You snaked a hand between you to dance your fingers over the strain against the crotch of his pants. His hand flew to encircle your wrist and still your movements. He took a deep breath.

"It might hurt you at first. Maybe the whole time," he said, his thumb brushing in a pendulum motion over your arm. You nodded.

"I know. I don't care."

He smiled again, regarding you for a long moment.

"Okay," he said, nodding and licking his lips before taking your jaw delicately between the rounded pads of his fingers. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"Hm?"

"You still have to leave in the morning."

You heaved a sigh. Oh, Yoongi. You thought you might cry again, so you nodded, pulling him down over you once more.

"Promise me," he murmured against your lips.

"I promise," you breathed.

You kissed slowly, greedily, learning each other's mouths and mapping each other's faces and necks. At some point he dipped below your collarbone to drag his lips along the tops of your breasts. Your hand flew into his hair and he looked up at you, dark eyes seeking permission. You nodded, bottom lip clamped between your teeth as he tugged down the stretchy bodice of your sundress to reveal a simple beige bra that clasped in the front.

"It's not sexy," you remarked apologetically.

He shook his head, his dark hair falling into his eyes, and dipped to kiss the tops of your breasts as his fingers found the clasp.

"Shhh, it's just the wrapping," he whispered as he snapped the garment open, letting your breasts fall into view as they pushed aside the fabric cups that had confined them.

He cursed under his breath as he brought both hands to your tits and kneaded them gently, sliding your pert nipples in the spaces between his fingers. You mewled, arching your back to press your chest up into his grasp. Before you could truly revel in the feeling of his hands plying your supple flesh, they were gone, but your whine of protest was cut short by a sharp keen as his mouth replaced his fingers. He suckled and nipped at one bud and then the other, and each time he released one with a pop, you were certain you had been rendered temporarily unconscious. Soon he was sitting up and smirking down at the panting, writhing mess of you beneath him. You saw him grimace again as he adjusted his stance, and you reached for his zipper, only to find your hand caught in his.

"No yet," he chided lightly, a twinkle in his eye, "I have to make you cum."

You drew your arm back and cast it over the top of your face, suddenly shy at his remark.

"To get you ready for me," he explained again in a murmur as he pushed your dress up to your rib cage.

He traced his hands lightly over your naked waist and you shivered. He moved to his knees, pushing your legs to either side of him. He hooked his fingers into the top of your pink cotton panties, when you suddenly felt yourself sitting up, your dress falling back over your midriff. You were a sight - wild hair and your tits half out, still panting for breath while worry painted your features. Yoongi pulled his hands away and sat back, confusion in his widened eyes.

"I don't shave," you rushed out, "I know some girls do, but I've never tried. And...I don't know, I'm kind of a mess down there right now..."

Yoongi's face softened and he leaned forward to press his forehead to yours.

"I don't care," he whispered. You huffed out another sigh.

"But...but what if you...don't like it?"

"I know I will."

"How?"

He bumped your nose with his, swallowing again as his hand found yours.

"Because I love you."

He only let the words hang in the air for a millisecond before he was crashing his lips into yours again, passionately, as if it was the only way he could convey his conviction.

He loved you. You could have died. But he was pressing one of the kisses you would always remember into your lips like an oath, so you didn't. And then you let him bare your skin and lay you down and tell you that you were beautiful. You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes when you felt your heart believe him. How were you to leave in the morning when his soft, warm words felt like the sun?

He ran his hands over your sides and thighs, dipping to trail slow, deliberate kisses down from your navel until his chin brushed the soft, curly hairs of your mound. Your breath caught in your chest as the cool air hit fresh slick dampening your sex. He leaned back again, regarding you with warm eyes, and took your hand in his, placing it over your lower lips.

"Do you touch yourself?"

You stammered. He had asked you as simply as if he were inquiring about your favorite flavor of ice cream. With effort you admitted that you did. He stroked over your hand.

"Show me how. What makes you feel good."

You nodded slowly, feeling yourself tremble a little as you moved to stroke your middle finger in beckoning motions over your swollen clit. The motion that should have been almost automatic and familiar felt new and lewd under his gaze. As you dipped to gather more arousal from your entrance you watched his Adam's apple bob in his throat and his hands tighten where they gripped your thighs.

"You're soaked," he murmured as he stooped to press a kiss to your belly. Then he did something that would be seared into your brain for all eternity: he scooped up your hand and brought it to his lips, sucking your sticky middle finger into his mouth. You gushed at the sensation of his lips and tongue, wide eyes locked on his as he slowly let your finger slip free.

"You want to know how you taste?" He asked, not waiting for an answer before humming, "So fucking good."

"Yeah?" you asked breathlessly, propped up on your forearms to watch as he laid down between your legs.

"Mhm. Sweet. Like honey."

He kissed into your pubic hair, slipping one of his long fingers to trace over your clit the way you had showed him. You gasped as you watched him work you up, something inside your growing taut like a bowstring. And then a kind of pleasure you had never imagined, the kind that made you want to melt and scream, rushed through your trembling body as a single finger pressed slowly past your entrance while his mouth found your clit. You found your hips bucking to meet his thrusts as he pressed in a second finger. You felt a slight sting at the stretch, but the exquisite pressure of this knobby knuckles caressing your walls overwhelmed any pain, and when he pressed the pads of his fingers to massage a spongy patch of muscle, you cried out, gripping his dark locks.

"Yoongi!" you moaned as he repeated the motion, and when he took your clit between his lips to suck you came.

You came hard and in waves, rolling your hips into him until you were clamping your thighs shut at the raw sensitivity of overstimulation. Yoongi sat up to rub his hands over your shaking thighs and heaving belly before leaning back down to kiss you and return your spirit through his lips from the astral plane.

"You did so good," he cooed, "Came so easy for me."

"That's good?" you asked between pants. He chuckled into your neck.

"Mhm."

"It felt good, Yoongi, really good." He dropped a kiss to your shoulder, and then mumbled into your skin.

"You still want to go all the way?"

"Yes," you whispered, pulling his shirt up his back and running your hands over his bare skin.

Yoongi sat up and pulled the shirt over his head, tossing it to lay with his jacket. He was slender and milky, as you had expected, but his shoulders were surprisingly broad, and his upper chest firm. The soft swell of his belly was dusted with a trail of delicate dark hairs leading down from his navel. You reached instinctively for the button of his pants, and this time he let you. Trailing the zipper down, he helped you shed his tight pants and boxers, sighing in relief as he freed his erection. You bit your lip as your hand trailed over the velvety skin of his shaft. Even this part of him was beautiful, you thought - not overly long but thick and proud with a pretty vein and a smooth tip glistening with precum. You had been so consumed with drinking him in that you only now noticed the little needy whimpers falling from his lips as you stroked him. You squeezed a little firmer, pumping him with more confidence.

"Like that?" you asked, unable to look away from the sweet sight of his face as his eyebrows knitted and his head tilted back.

"Yeah, just...no, no, I won't last," he groaned, his hand stilling yours.

When he met your concerned gaze he reached up to stroke your cheek.

"Feels too good," he murmured reassuringly, then he guided you back down on the blanket, balling up his jacket and slipping it under your head.

He lowered himself carefully over you, skin to skin, as he kissed you again and again, his right hand toying with your breast and trailing lower to caress your clit. You could feel the heat rising in you again, and an aching want inside growing deeper and hungrier with every shock of pleasure. When he trailed his fingers through your folds to find you thoroughly wet he leaned to the side, gliding his length between your lips, his smooth tip brushing over your bud. You cursed, fingers digging into his back and he huffed a little laugh, eyes sparkling down at you.

"Dirty girl," he chuckled, before kissing the tip of your nose. "Are you ready?"

You felt a squeeze of trepidation in your chest, but you pushed it away.

"Yes," you assured him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

For a long moment, he just stared down at you, the same look in his eyes as the morning you had first awakened in his arms, but so intent - as if he was trying to commit every feature of your face, in this moment, to memory. Finally breaking his gaze, he glanced down between your bodies, aligning himself with your entrance. His eyes flicked back up to you as he slowly, slowly breached your core. When he had pressed in past his tip you felt the searing stretch he had warned you of. You closed your eyes, drawing in a sharp breath.

"You okay?" came is worried voice, "Want to stop?" You shook your head.

"No, just do it," you panted through the pain, "I want it to be you."

You pulled him down to press your mouth to his. Every kiss between you seemed to say something. This one said that you trusted him in a way you would never trust another.

He was so gentle. Pressing in slowly, giving you time to stretch around the thickness of him, kissing you sweetly through your whimpers, until he was fully sheathed inside you. Tears filled your eyes and trickled down your cheeks. You were so full of him.

"Why are you crying?" he cooed, touching his forehead to yours.

Your hands clutched his back as you raised watery eyes to his.

"Because I'm yours, Yoongi. Yours first and no one else's." He buried his face in your neck.

"Take me, Yoongi," you whispered desperately into his ear, "Take me like I'm yours."

You felt him let out a tiny sob against your skin and then he started to move. He kept a slow pace at first, carefully gliding against your tight walls, unaccustomed to his presence. You could feel him jerk and twitch as he moved, and thought he must be restraining himself. You found the worst of your pain had passed, and all you wanted in the world was to make him cum.

"Don't hold back," you hummed as you rolled your hips to meet his thrusts.

He didn't need you to tell him twice, instantly setting a quicker, sharper pace that had his balls slapping your ass and his pelvic bone pressing to your clit with each forward snap.

"You're so fucking tight," he mumbled, a dazed look beginning to overtake his features, "You feel so good, baby. So good." You wove your hands into his hair, pulling him down to kiss him as you breathed in every curse, whimper, and moan. And then he was looking down at you with dark, wild eyes.

"I'm gonna cum, sweetheart, where do you want me to cum?"

You didn't have to think.

"Inside," you answered breathlessly.

"But I'm not..."

"Please, cum inside me, Yoongi. Please," you whimpered, tempted to wrap your legs around his waist - your desire for him transcending every fear of consequence. But you wanted to give him the choice.

He raised himself up on his elbows, his thrusts coming impossibly harder and more erratic, and then he came. You watched him in exaltation as he threw his head back and cried out, emptying himself inside you. So beautiful, you thought, with his hair clinging to his brow, his chest heaving and flushed, and his face drawn in the throes of his release. You did wrap your legs around him then, and he collapsed, his head falling to your breasts as he gasped for breath. You tangled your fingers into his hair, caressing his head. You were swollen and sore and messy, and yet the thought of him abandoning you was unbearable. And the moon saw it all.

It saw you stay each other's as long as possible. It watched you both try to hide your tears as you pulled on your clothes. It watched you fight desperately, and fail, to put your heart in words. It watched him silence you, and hold you, because you didn't have to say it. He knew. It watched you fall asleep in his arms one last time.

You opened your eyes. The gulls were crying and the pale morning sunlight was spilling over the tops of the cliffs. The sea was soft and plashing and cerulean. It was the most beautiful of the ninety-three mornings of summer. But you didn't notice - all you saw were dark lashes on the apples of soft cheeks. You watched his breath rise and fall as the sun tipped over the horizon in the east, the dew trickling down your face as salty as the sea.

When Yoongi's eyes fluttered open they met your red ones, and he pressed is forehead to yours only for a moment before pulling you up to stand.

"Get outta here," he whispered shakily, hands still clutching your arms and brow still tilted into your own.

"Come with me," you choked tracing your hands over his chest.

"I can't leave her with him."

"I know." Your fingers traced over his heart and the little bruise you knew rested under the cotton fabric.

Yoongi wept.

"Go," he whispered, squeezing your arms. You nodded weakly.

"Go, goddamn it, go!" he cried, as you shook with sobs, then he crushed his mouth against yours.

Time didn't stop, you'd have any - so you stole every second you could.

And then you kept your promise.

You shivered as a zephyr sprang off the water to whip around you, disrupting your thoughts. You tugged at your blazer. It had been a long time since you wore a sundress with cherries.

It was time to let them go, the little girl huddled in a blanket and the boy with the bleeding lip. They had held your hands for so long. They deserved to be free. It was time to let them go, so you did.

With a deep sigh you cast one last wistful glance back over the great blue expanse as the sun sank into the sea.

The moon was just a silver slip in the sky that night, but it saw. It saw before you did, as you turned to go, the breath catching in your chest when a low, soft voice behind you asked,

"Got a light?"

-Fin-

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