It's easy to pretend. Easy to draw the syllables and words out, making them sound lazy, stringing sentences together so they're slurred.

Easy to sway his hips a little more than he naturally would in a sober, inhibited state when he feels heavy, lustful– possessive he fantasizes– eyes on him from somewhere beyond the actually inebriated people while the bass rattles through his body.

It never seems to take long to slip into a certain state of mind when he begins to move the calculated way he does when they go out as a group.

He'll take shots with his friends or gulp down a whiskey or two before stepping into the crowd.

Once he's on the dance floor things hardly ever escalate to strangers' hands resting on his hips or an unfamiliar chest pressing flush against his back as an unrecognizable voice whispers compliments and dirty words against his ear.

He doesn't ever spend a long time alone before the younger man comes to him– body warm, eyes dark and wanting– holding Yoongi just how he likes.

Right on cue, Yoongi smirks to himself when he looks down to see a familiar tattooed hand snake around his body, pulling him against them.

Yoongi sighs, taking his bottom lip between his teeth as he lulls his head to the side, giving the younger more skin to nip, kiss and suckle at.

He gasps when gentle fingers trace across his jaw before turning his head in their direction.

Yoongi blinks blearily, meeting the man's hungry gaze with his own hazy stare.

Jungkook is beautiful. So beautiful that sometimes– most times– it physically pains Yoongi to look at him.

It didn't always use to be that way. Painful. It only happened after their break up.

But the pain has become familiar. Not welcome by any means, but familiar. Tolerable.

Turning in his arms, Yoongi snakes a hand up Jungkook's strong chest before moving it to the back of his neck.

Jungkook is pliant and willing, instantly responding to Yoongi crashing their lips together with a low groan that sends a shiver down Yoongi's spine.

The kiss is heated and messy with too much teeth and sloppy swipes of their tongues.

Greedy hands glide along Yoongi's back, cupping his ass in two delicious handfuls, making Yoongi arch against Jungkook when he begins to squeeze, digging his fingertips in as he pulls Yoongi's hips forward, colliding them with his own.

Yoongi is starved for touch. Jungkook's touch.

Starved for how Jungkook's hands feel on his skin. For the way Jungkook so carefully and skillfully pulls him apart.

It's been a couple of weeks which is more time than Yoongi likes. Much too long.

Jungkook pushes his leg between Yoongi's so Yoongi's hardening cock comes into contact with his toned thigh, Yoongi's hips rolling against him automatically.

He can feel his body nearly going limp with the heady, desperate need to have Jungkook the way he craves.

He gasps against Jungkook's lips, moaning shortly after and Jungkook swallows the sound gladly when he claims Yoongi's mouth again in a bruising kiss.

Their bodies grind together, Jungkook's thigh pressing hard between Yoongi's legs as the older sucks at Jungkook's full bottom lip, feeling the way Jungkook's body tenses as he groans.

They're not even moving with the beat of the pounding EDM. Haven't been since the second Yoongi turned around to kiss Jungkook.

People can see them, Yoongi can feel their stares, but he doesn't care.

All that matters is Jungkook.

Jungkook and how his hands continue to grip his ass like he's afraid of letting Yoongi go.

Like he's insuring that Yoongi will stay put despite them both knowing damn well that neither of them have any intention of stopping.

At least, not stopping to part ways.

No, when Yoongi breaks the kiss, it's to pull Jungkook toward the exit.

Their night has just begun and Yoongi will be fucking damned if Jungkook isn't in his bed, fucking him senseless, filling him the spectacular way he does within the hour.

They stumble over their feet– at least Yoongi does, making a show of doing so– as they weave and push past people.

As they wait for a cab out on the curb, they're a little more sparing– more languid– with their kisses, but no less wanting.

Jungkook's speech is a bit slurred but he doesn't sound completely wasted, mostly drunk on lust if anything.

That's what Yoongi uses to exaggerate his drunkenness.

The haze that settles over him, blurs his sight and causes him to lose all sense of time and direction when he's with his ex.

When he finally has him how he wants.

How he misses.

How he craves.

Yes, it's easy to pretend to be drunk and worth it each and every time if it means getting Jungkook into his bed again.

.......

The ache in his head is annoying when he wakes, his heart beat pulsing in his temples.

He had a few shots last night– usually tries to drink at least as many shots as Namjoon, the second lightest weight drinker of their group– making sure Jungkook saw him drink them as well to help sell his drunk act.

Speaking of Jungkook...

The arms around his waist tighten as Yoongi shifts around, rolling onto his side to look at the still sleeping man.

His face is so relaxed, so at peace and regret free.

Yoongi holds onto these moments the morning after. Cherishes them because he knows after he wakes, Jungkook's racing thoughts will take over along with the regret and guilt of giving in and sleeping with his ex again.

(They've promised more times than they can count that it won't happen again, yet they haven't abided by the words yet.)

Yoongi's stomach twists uncomfortably and he squeezes his eyes closed to put off seeing Jungkook's expression when he feels his body stiffen, signaling he's waking up.

He opens his eyes when he feels the arm around him pull away, leaving Yoongi feeling exposed to the chill from the tensing air around them.

Their eyes meet and something like sadness flashes in Jungkook's but it's gone in a second before he looks away and rolls onto his back.

Yoongi does the same and they stare up at the ceiling in silence for what feels like hours before Jungkook pushes himself up so he's seated.

"That was a mistake," he voices, running a frustrated hand through his hair, facing forward, not looking at Yoongi.

"I lost count of how many shots I took," Yoongi answers– it was five, his usual limit is nine or ten– trying to match Jungkook's disheartened tone, ignoring how it makes his heart hurt even more. "I don't even remember how we got here..." he trails off.

"I feel like shit," Jungkook huffs and he does sound like he means it. "Shouldn't have tried to out drink Jimin," he ruffles his hair roughly.

Yoongi didn't count Jungkook's drinks, but if he was trying to out drink Jimin, he knows it must have been a fairly decent amount of alcohol.

His face is a bit puffy, eyes rimmed with a thin band of red. He does look hungover.

Jungkook was more drunk last night than Yoongi had realized.

Yoongi nods, shifting uncomfortably where he remains laying on his back.

His legs and back ache in the most wonderful way and he doesn't need to look down to know bruises have been left behind on his thighs by Jungkook's sinful mouth.

He tries not to meet his gaze when Jungkook turns to him, letting his eyes bare into a small chip in the paint overhead.

Before Jungkook even says the words Yoongi knows what's coming next.

"I should, uh... get going," he mumbles, nodding toward Yoongi's bedroom door.

"Right," Yoongi agrees, expecting as much.

This is always how it goes.

Jungkook wakes up in his bed; he– or both of them– makes some comment about drinking too much before saying he needs to leave.

It's the same thing when Yoongi wakes in the younger's bed.

Step one; wake up. Step two; excuse the night away by blaming the booze. Step three; get dressed and dip out after bidding an uncomfortable goodbye.

They hardly deviate from this routine.

When Jungkook is no longer on the bed beside him Yoongi allows his eyes to settle on his frame.

He looks over just as Jungkook's pulling on his underwear with his back towards the bed before he's bending down to search for the rest of his discarded clothes from the night before.

Yoongi's fingers search for purchase on the blanket, unconsciously reaching for the spot Jungkook had been laying, searching for his warmth that'd been left behind, closing his eyes as to not gawk over his naked skin any longer.

Jungkook had always been able to feel Yoongi's attention like a physical weight resting over him.

Yoongi knows that same attentiveness will apply now.

He's already embarrassed himself enough by knowingly bringing Jungkook home much more sober than is a usable excuse for another lapse in judgment.

It'd be even more painful for him to be caught staring at Jungkook's ass as he slides his jeans on, or drooling over the way his back muscles contract and his arms flex as he pulls his shirt over his head.

He used to be able to look– to touch– as much as he wanted, drunk or not, but that was before.

Once he's fully dressed dressed, Jungkook takes measured steps toward the door, turning back to Yoongi as he pulls it open.

Yoongi does meet his eyes this time, even props himself up on his elbows to do so.

"I'll, um... I'll see you later? Have a nice day," Jungkook says awkwardly.

Have a nice day. Yoongi grimaces at the words. The tone in which they're spoken.

He sounds far too formal for Yoongi's liking.

Keeping his face blank, he gives a curt nod.

"You too. See you later," Yoongi whispers to Jungkook's back as he pulls the door open and steps out of the room.

He sighs, turning so he's face down, burying his face in his pillows, trying to block out the sight of the morning sun piercing through his window as well as the rapidly approaching wave of frustration and sorrow.

He hates the morning after. Hates when Jungkook leaves.

But during their time together– when he's wrapped in Jungkook's arms, bodies pressed together like puzzle pieces– dread for the time when the fog of lust clears with the rising of the sun is the furthest thing from his mind.