Nights in the Studio - Taejoon

44

Taehyung's POV

After I got off stage that day my shirt was completely drenched in sweat: it was the cold of singing for the first time with only the vocal line and the pressure that it could come out perfect, though in the end the mistake was a bit bigger and although it was not noticed. I could not give my one hundred percent.

I told myself that it was okay, that I had looked good anyway. Even when the others arrived and started talking about our mistake the words 'sexy' and 'handsome' were used to describe all of us, with wet hair plastered to our foreheads, cheeks red and skin aroused.

I  would have gave my life for a bath, and when I got to the hotel it was the first thing I did before I even had a bite to eat. I don't remember who was live that day, but they did ask for Namjoon's room to be better lit. He thrn ended up being exiled to anyone who decided to open a place for him. That ended up being me.

He came in sooner than I thought, founding me lying on the bed with just a t-shirt and underwear on. I remember I covered myself full of embarrassment at his mischievous look around my body. He seemed unconcerned by my sudden attitude towards his presence, but still asked me if it was better for him to leave.

"No," I swallowed while answering nervously, "please, I booked the side you like." I shook the cozy sheets and he just laughed before laying down next to me.

Is it a dream or a memory? It doesn't matter, because by the time he was lying next to me I would have already felt his hand brush my leg three times.

It was just an accident.

What was not an accident is when he instead of caressing me, came closer and ended up hugging me, spooning my body as if I were the only source of all possible body heat for him.

"You looked really good tonight," I felt his lips pronounce each word hoarsely against the back of my neck in the middle of the night. Both of us unable to sleep. I felt the paralysis awaken between my legs "nobody took their eyes off you."

A million emotions crossed my mind.

"Not even you?" I dared to ask; I felt his smile.

"I already knew that I would end up here with you, so it didn't matter." He answered, I frowned.

"What do you mean?"

His arm tightened around my waist, and he timidly sank his nose into the crook of my neck. I couldn't help but sigh and moan low, as his senses aroused me while the movement between our bodies intensified.

His lips kissed my neck, then a little bit of my jawline. I gasped between a crooked smile.

"This was not a coincidence. I missed you so bad, I needed this." He said huskily, I took a deep breath to try to figure out all the emotions that his movements and his body caused in mine. His words hit me like.

I couldn't help but wonder what the hell was going on with us, what was the meaning behind his words? Had he really though that? Was it the fact that we hadn't slept like this in a while? I didn't know, our relationship was still strong, unproblematic at the time, and therefore, my head was more a bundle of confused motions than a wasteland for traumatic mistakes. Being with him was easy, to the point where the thought of being with him was all I got on with from day to day.

I didn't believe my skin when I felt his hips stick to me while he continued with his face buried in my neck. The movement was slow, almost imperceptible, though, and I knew he was throbbing, that he was hardening next to me. Was I flattered? Scared? I only remember the desire that lead me to pray for him to not stop; my will to stay in his arms ready to comply with anything he proposed to me, no matter how crazy it was.

Then something wet brushed the skin on my neck. It was slippery, just a small lick; but it was enough for my breath to hitch, and I had a hand behind me, pressed against my butt. I wanted to touch him, and I did it without hesitation: I found that edge of his pants and just by holding it a deep moan hit my ear.

"What are you doing?" He asked between a small laugh. I moved my hand up and down awkwardly, trying to get some rhythm. He moved by himself and with both hands he joined me closer to him. He was thrusting briskly at the fabric of our clothes, waiting for some more contact.

"What are you doing?" I asked, trying to follow his exciting game.

His breath started to go faster, and I hummed, trying to understand if it was right for me to moan. I felt his member in my hand and that was enough to put me on edge. I needed him to do something with me, to tell me or give me some sign to continue.

What the fuck was I doing? I only knew I loved him at that point but nothing else, he wasn't closer to me neither so, what was this? Was he starting to feel some way about me?

At that moment, a sound outside stopped us. It was a yell from Jin complaining about something that one of the members had said unintentionally. There was laughter and then a couple of questions, finally a door closing.

I felt my soul return to my body when I realized that there was no way for anyone to separate us. Namjoon suddenly released me and rested his forehead on my back.

There was nothing said after that. Just a couple hours of train of thought before I realized he had fallen sleep.

Was he drunk? I don't know, but that was the only reasonable explanation on why he didn't act weird the next day with me, and instead, started to get closer and closer....

Was that night had been just a dream? But the feeling was just so real.

I started to fantasize about it a lot, and although things were complicated afterwards, I never stop wondering why was I acting that way with him on that night; why didn't I wanted him to stop? But most importantly, why was it him and only him who could do that to me?

He told me he loved me and treated me like an angel after everything with Jimin. He was there for me. But at that time, after that night, he didn't say a word to me. No one specified the reasons for that night, not the next day or in the years that followed; I don't even know exactly if he's still thinking about it, about what he wanted to do.

All I know is that thanks to that memory I can't sleep with him next to me, barely touching me. I sit in bed and think about everything: therapy, myself, the life I want.

I have wondered that. What do I want?

I look to my side when Namjoon's breathing is interrupted with a small shiver of cold. I smile before stretching the blanket with my hand and covering him up to his cheek carefully.

I look at him a bit: between his eyes, his nose, and his lips. I remember when he sneaked me into the building store, what his mouth did to me, how he felt with him.

Then his hands, how they have always felt good, from that night he no longer remembers, to now, every time he dares to hug me.

I suddenly realize what I want.

I realize I am finally ready.