Sexting
"The framework is looking really good, hyung."
Hoseok nods, a satisfied smile gracing his face as he presses the button to the top floor. The elevator doors slide shut, and Taehyung leans back against the wall, losing his prim posture.
"I think the project manager we hired is better than our last one," Hoseok says. "Much more efficient."
"True." Taehyung sighs, and he closes his eyes, feeling the lethargy of jet lag and a week's worth of non-stop board meetings and auditing.
"You should get some rest. We don't have anything scheduled for tomorrow. Sleep in."
Taehyung grins in relief. "Will do." The elevator doors slide open, revealing a long, wide hallway, decorated with paintings and tables set with flowers. The carpet is plush and feels odd underneath Taehyung's feet, and he wonders how exhausted he really must be to spend time thinking about the plushness of carpets.
"Good night Hobi hyung," Taehyung says as they approach his suite. Hoseok nods and walks towards his own room, several doors down. Taehyung slides his key card into the slot and it beeps. When he hears the resounding click, he pulls the handle and opens the door.
As soon as it shuts, he lets out the most inhumane groan, and all but stumbles through the suite, tearing off his clothes as he goes. The suit jacket goes first, then the pants, both of which find their place strewn across a loveseat. Taehyung then unbuttons his dress shirt, but becomes distracted by the large bed in front of him, and he all but tosses himself onto the mattress.
For a moment, it reminds him of how Jeongguk tends to toss him onto his bed when they get too worked up, the way the air just rushes out of his lungs, and his skin prickles with excitement. This brings his tangle of thoughts to Jeongguk. In a moment of childishness, he whines, flailing his arms and legs around, because he misses Jeongguk, more than he'd care to admit.
It had only been a week, but Taehyung already feels like he's hallucinating, smelling Jeongguk's cologne on his clothes, feeling his lips against his skin. He flops over onto his back, resituating himself on the pillows and grapples for his phone, which he'd tossed carelessly onto the duvet as he'd divested himself of his trousers.
His fingers seem to have a mind of their own as he opens up the (rather short) thread of text messages. After their first phone call, Jeongguk had withdrawn a bit, back to his quiet, sentient self. He'd only texted Taehyung a handful of times, just to make sure he's been taking his medication, that his ribs didn't hurt, that he didn't feel any shortness of breath.
Every time he got a notification from Jeongguk, his heart would beat just a little bit faster, hoping for something decidedly not safe for work, but it had yet to happen.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to make the first move," he mumbles, then pauses, looking around the room. "I'm talking to myself." He clicks his tongue. "And I'm still talking to myself."
Taehyung shakes his head and refocuses on his mission. He opens up the camera app, and squirms around on the bed, trying to find the best lighting. He runs his hands through his hair, pulling the careful coif over his eyes, and adjusts his dress shirt so only a sliver of skin is showing.
Biting his lip, he snaps a picture. After readjusting, he takes another. And another. He changes up his poses, biting his lip in one, putting his finger in his mouth in the next, arching off the bed a little. All in all, he amasses about forty photos, and goes through the painstaking process of choosing the most suitable one to send.
After about fifteen minutes of debate, he selects the best one (he will not admit that most of them look the same, he will not).
'Just got back to the hotel! So tired TT___TT '
