Of Lace and Lust | Taehyung x Reader

Part 3

When you finally get back home, darkness is the only thing that greets you when you unlock the door. You spent a few hours at the café working after the meeting, which had been as boring as you expected. Still, you're glad you went, even if Jimin keeps sending you selfies of how much fun he's having. He's reached that point in the night when he starts stripping, and it won't be long before he's running into the ocean in his boxers. It's happened before. You have video.

As you slip out of your sneakers, your phone buzzes with yet another message. This time, it's a voice recording. Your lips twist into an amused grin, imagining what wildness awaits you as you push the phone to your ear. "Heyyyyyyy!" Jimin's voice comes through like a trumpet. You're so distracted, you hold onto your keys as you haul your duffel and backpack to your room.

Throwing everything onto the floor, you don't even bother to turn on the lights before you starfish onto the bed to listen to the rest of Jimin's babble. "Anyway, the ocean shouldn't be so cold, right?" That's where the message cuts out.

"Oh, Jimin," you laugh as you sit up, let the phone fall onto the mattress. "Never change."

You're thinking you should probably unpack when you hear the lock clatter. Your head perks up. Perfect timing! Taehyung's probably up for a few rounds of a game, or a movie. You can practically taste the buttery popcorn already. "Ta—" The sound is strangled in your throat when you hear a loud, high-pitched giggle.

"Oh god, don't say that!" It's not a voice you recognize. "Hey, isn't your roommate home?"

"Nah, she's at the cabin. See? Her keys aren't here."

Your eyes swing to the keyring lit up by moonlight; it lies haphazardly beside your duffel, the heart-shaped alien figurine a present from Tae for your birthday a few years back. Shit. You should probably come out now, reveal yourself before things progress further. But that would spoil their mood, wouldn't it? And you don't exactly have anywhere to go to give them space either.

"Oh, Taehyung..." She's purring, dripping seduction. "Can't you wait until we get to the bed?"

Too late.

"No."

You've never heard his voice at this register before; the tone that's already so deep somehow dipping even lower, laced with a carnality that feels at odds when you try to reconcile it with your best friend. A thump of something hits the floor, probably a belt buckle clanging with the hardwood. It jumpstarts this uncomfortable feeling in your stomach as you let the doorknob go and take a few steps until the back of your knees hit the bedframe.

"Mmm, I like this dress on you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It's easy to take off."

Normally, you would have cringed at the words that seem so odd spilling from his mouth. But in their own way, they fit this darker pitch that makes your heartbeat speed up. You tell yourself it's only because you're afraid you'll be caught.

Rushed footsteps. A minute later, his bed creaks, accepting the new weight. You hear giggles and groans, followed by more rustles. Had these walls always been this thin? Your weak knees lead you down as you sit on the mattress, staring at the barrier that separates your rooms.

"I got all dressed up for you, Taehyung."

"Oh?"

"Do you like it? It's my favorite thong."

He prefers cheekies, you think, suddenly feeling somewhat superior with this knowledge. Lace. Strappy. Like the ones sitting so snugly against your skin.

"I love it, baby. Spread your legs for me."

There's no mistaking the betraying gush of lust between your thighs now.

Your clit is practically whining to be touched, straining against the self-control that slips a bit more with every noise Taehyung makes. You're starting to want to catch every word that falls from his mouth.

Stop, no. Think. Think about anything else. You know you have to do something about the urgency that sprints through your veins, begging for relief. You conjure images of your last bedmate to mind, Hoseok, a man with chocolate eyes and a sunshine smile that turned devastating between the sheets. He'd made some memorable nights with that magic tongue of his. So you sink into your thoughts, eyes shut to better recall the smirks, the way he always licked your juices off his lips. Your fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts.

It works for all of a minute.

Next door, they're unapologetically loud, interrupting your fantasy to force you into listening to Taehyung's grunts, her mews. Try as you might, you can't completely block them out. You know you could probably reach for your earphones, but it seems your hand is no longer discriminating as you draw tight circles on your clit over the fabric. If Taehyung saw you in these, what would he say? Would he tell you how pretty you were? Would he rip them off you like promised, or just drag them aside so he could French-kiss your cunt?

"Ahn..." You exhale muted gasps, trying to control yourself as the bed starts to knock against the wall in that telltale way. Logic is being crushed by the rising need. All you care about is Taehyung's groans, guttural and filthy. The carnal quality to them that makes heat surge through your veins and pool at your crotch. Behind your closed eyes, you can see him: sweat rolling off his forehead, teeth sinking into his bottom lip, almost that look he gets when he's just eaten something delicious, but better. So much better.

You're bucking into your own palm, frustrated by the thin barrier of lace but going underneath feels forbidden, as if that would make it all real. He's speeding up, the furniture shaking along with him. Somewhere along the way, you stopped imagining her. It's you that he's knelt over, powerful hands on your thighs as he pounds down, merciless. Though you've only seen the bulge by pure accident, you're sure his cock would stretch you, force you into submission. You can practically feel him taking ownership from behind, using those nimble hips to slam into you again and again and ag—

"Fuck...!" A fresh jolt of pleasure and you unravel, cumming quickly, desperately, like you've been waiting for this release for years. Maybe you have. You don't know. You're all whimpers and muted cries, lost to the erratic pulsing of your cunt and bliss with one name imprinted in your mind.

Half a minute later, when the high dies and some strands of sanity amble their way back to your feverish brain, you become very aware that the rattling from next door has stopped. Your heart goes along with it, panic replacing any arousal as you swear under your breath. How loud were you just now? Oh god, oh god, did they hear? Even the girl's moans have disappeared.

You body moves instinctively. Before you can change your mind, you grab your headphones from the bedside table. You stuff them into your ears, crank up the volume of whatever you were listening to last. You burrow under the covers, letting the music blast all coherent thought away, waiting for the dreaded knock on the door that thankfully never comes.