Love is half

44

Taehyung is asleep next to him.

Jungkook stirs by his side, spends next few minutes in a state of relative numbness, there is small ache near the dimples of his spine, memories from last night burns around his skin. He realizes he is not on the couch and it is quite unfamiliar when he spots curve of figure beside him. Sighing, he doesn't find it surprising when the material of the blanket caresses his bare skin underneath, pooling around the bare of his waist as his cock rests on his stomach lazily.

As Jungkook closes his eyes for few minutes to get rid of the dizziness, the room is bright from the sunlight and the weather gives him hint of afternoon, the door of the room is thankfully closed. His feet tangles with something other than the blanket, when he looks down, Jungkook realizes its Taehyungs pants that the older must've been exhausted to put on last night.

The arch of his nose, olive pressed skin lies next to him, Taehyung is lying on his back, his face is covered with hair but Jungkook can make out the shape of his face, sculptor-perfect, across the room, his own pant is abandoned on the floor. His eyes are stuck on the parted lips of his, an arm thrown carelessly above his head. And Taehyung looks different, so different in his sleep that Jungkook fears he is in one of those dream where everything feels too real.

Because Taehyung is beautiful as ever, there is a dreamlike glow washes around him whenever he is just like this. His easy breathing and, the drowsy tangle of his limps. In spite of himself, Jungkooks pulse slows down to the point his body is controlling himself when it reaches out to caress the bone of the olders jaw, sharp as knife but the effect itself isn't sharp at all when the skin of his dips underneath Jungkook's fingertips. There is a vividness to Taehyung, even at rest, that makes death and spirit seem foolish.

Jungkook reaches up hesitantly to stroke his bare skin, over his stomach, above his navel. And Taehyung is like a flame himself. He glitters, draws eyes of any soul. There is a glamour to him, even on waking, with his brightest nest of hair tousled and his sleep.

"Morning.." Jungkooks voice is softer than the pillow itself when he says it, below a whisper as if its only for Taehyungs ears to hear, his finger tips are tracing over the olders ribcage where slight stickiness from the cum last night dried, and Jungkook doesn't mind it either, because he has grown used to it from the smell. Sweaty and salty, like beach and sex.

He watches the curve of Taehyungs soft muscle tensing, but keeps his hand where it was, "Are you okay, feeling better?" He asks, because last night Taehyung wasn't okay, Jungkook has panicked, but for a moment his chest sinks, Taehyungs gaze isn't irritated or anything, its just there, sleepy and soft. New.

"Hm..yeah." The older hmms in a deep voice, letting out a breath he was holding. Something about the way he words drains any last of tiredness from Jungkook.

So Jungkook places a hand on side of his shoulder, lightly stroking his chest to try and tell him, it is okay, even though last night Jungkook wasn't okay, Taehyung wasn't either,

"Do you want to take a bath? Then we can go to farm, uncle was telling me something about the strawberries." Jungkooks eyes flickers down to Taehyungs spread hand flat against his torso, finger curled next to his cock that is bare and hides underneath the wrinkled folded blanket.

Up close, Taehyungs hand looks almost unearthly: the perfectly formed lines of his fingers, the crease above and line on his palm that Jungkook wants to trace dearly while listen to him talking about his childhood and what is in his mind. The whiteness of it and the pink from touching anything, skin and bone, Taehyungs hands are fucking surreal and long.