Archive of Our Own

“What?” Yoongi says, looking warily at Seokjin. The elder has a shit-eating grin on his face and that usually means trouble.

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Seokjin replies, removing the huge rubber duckie inflatable from around his waist and setting it on the floor of the cabana.

Yoongi can tell it’s not nothing just from the gleam in Seokjin’s eye, but he chooses to ignore it.

“Okay then.” He shrugs, pulling the fabric wall closed and tying it shut so that he can apply his sunscreen in peace. The cabana rental was ridiculously expensive, but it’s their first vacation together since they started dating a year ago, so he couldn’t bring himself to say no when Seokjin suggested they book one for the day. He’s not hating it though, he thinks, as he sits down on the double lounge bed and removes his shirt, popping a complimentary strawberry into his mouth before squirting lotion into his hand.

“It’s just—” Seokjin smirks, flopping down next to Yoongi and laying his head on Yoongi’s crossed legs. “—you did it again,” the older man says cryptically.

“Did what?”

“You know.”

“Jin-hyung, if I knew, I wouldn’t be asking,” he says nonchalantly, racking his brain to try to figure out what Seokjin is referring to as he proceeds to slather pina colada scented spf 70 on his pale skin.

“The float rental place. The lady that was doing the rentals. She was definitely older than you. Ring a bell?” Seokjin teases with mirth in his eyes.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Yoongi deflects, feeling a strange tension build in his gut.

“Mmm-hmm—and the room service delivery attendant last night with the class of ‘88 ring, the shuttle driver on the way to the resort, the yoga instructor this morning. All older. Shall I continue?” Seokjin goads.

“I’m not sure what you’re implying,” Yoongi says, silently cursing himself for apparently being so obvious. Or for dating someone so observant. Or both.

“They all called you oppa,” Seokjin replies smugly.

Yoongi’s breath hitches in his chest, suddenly feeling lightheaded hearing Seokjin say that word. He clears his throat for cover and grabs his partially melted frozen margarita from the small side table, taking a deep draw through the straw to steady himself.

“So what’s the big deal?” he snarks, hoping the bite in his response covers the tremble in his voice. “I’ve always looked mature, Jin-hyung. You know, despite my small stature, people often mistake me for someone much older. I think it’s my perpetual scowl.” Yoongi shrugs, hoping that Seokjin will leave it alone.

“Yeah, could be.” Seokjin supposes, and Yoongi almost thinks he’s in the clear, until— “although it’s more likely because you told them to call you oppa. I heard you Yoongi-yah.”

Damn Seokjin’s superhuman hearing. “Uh. Well. I—I thought they were younger,” Yoongi stammers, “It was an honest mistake.”

“Yoongi-yah—”

“I mean, you gotta admit that Brenda at the float rental place had great skin. I should ask her about her routine. Didn’t look a day over 25—” he rambles, pulling his legs out from under Seokjin's head and setting his sunscreen on the table. He moves to stand up, but a hand to his forearm stops him.

“Where are you going, oppa?” Seokjin emphasizes the word as he tightens his grip, and it’s like a lightning bolt of electricity straight to Yoongi’s dick. He can’t hold back the shudder that racks through his body.

“J-Jin-hyung—w-what are you doing?” Yoongi’s voice is barely a whisper, his brain stuck somewhere between embarrassment and mind-blowing arousal as he stares at the floor, avoiding Seokjin’s eyes. They have a great sex life together, it’s just that Yoongi hasn’t ever divulged this particular little kink to anyone before—especially Seokjin, whose shameless humor and bold sense of adventure frankly terrify him.

“What do you think I’m doing, oppa?” Seokjin taunts, before letting his arm go. Yoongi risks a glance, only to find Seokjin laying back on the bed and shimmying out of his board shorts.

“Jin-hyung, what the fuck?” he whispers aggressively, watching Seokjin’s hard cock spring free from the damp fabric and gawking at its size, momentarily forgetting why he was upset.

“It’s perfectly private here. No one will know,” Seokjin assures him as they listen to the muffled sound of other pool-goers passing by, barely audible through the thick canvas walls of the cabana. “Cmon, I can tell you want to,” Seokjin prods, leaning over to run his hand up Yoongi’s thigh until he reaches the fabric tent at the crotch of Yoongi’s swim shorts.

And Yoongi does. God, he really, really does. “But, hyung, we don’t have any lube,” he stalls, trying to get his mind around the possibility of having sex sort-of outdoors and sort-of in public.

“Ah, but we do! Oppa-rently, I come well prepared,” Seokjin chortles, laughing at his own pun as he pulls a packet of lube from his fanny pack.

“Please don’t.” Yoongi rolls his eyes. Yet despite the bad joke, his cock twitches at the realization that they are actually considering doing this.

“I didn’t know you had an oppa-tite for this sort of thing, Yoongi-yah.”

“Jin-hyung—” he warns. He was right. He knew Seokjin wouldn’t be able to control himself with this new information.

“Lighten up, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin chides. “You’re in the Oppa Cabana now. No negativity please.”

“The what?”

“The Oppa Cabana.” Seokjin announces with a flourish, laying back on the double lounger and spreading his legs wide to extract a pretty pink plug with a yellow sun stamped on the end. His vacation plug, he calls it. “Here. Hold this,” he directs, handing it to Yoongi as he applies lube to his hand and starts to finger himself.

Yoongi stares at the plug in his hand, then at Seokjin, who’s already two fingers deep, before setting the plug on the table. “You planned this?”

“I wouldn’t say planned, exactly,” the older man says, as he begins to sing a show tune. “His name was Yoongi, he was an Oppa—”

“Hyung, oh my god,” Yoongi gapes in horror.

“With purple highlights in his hair and swim shorts cut down to there,” Seokjin warbles, grunting as he inserts a third finger.

“You have a whole fucking Barry Manilow parody scripted out?” Yoongi says incredulously, wondering why his boyfriend is like this—and also why it’s making his cock so hard.

“He would say nay-nay, and do the cha-cha.”

“Jin-hyung, that makes no sense,” Yoongi mutters, raising a hand to cover the grin creeping onto his face.

“And while he watches from afar, his boyfriend’s fingers reach so far.”

“Wait, so I’m Lola and you’re Tony?” Yoongi wonders aloud.

“Across the crowded floor, his boyfriend slipped in four,” Seokjin chants dramatically in what sounds strangely like a Liza Minnelli voice, as he adds a fourth finger.

“That’s it, I’m leaving,” Yoongi groans, while at the same time finally giving in and standing to slip off his swim shorts.

“They were young and they had each other. Who could ask for more?” Seokjin croons cutely, pulling his fingers out with a squelching pop and motioning between them.

A warmth runs through Yoongi’s heart, and cock, at the impromptu serenade. He’s so stupidly enamored with his totally ridiculous boyfriend. So much so, that he misses the big breath that Seokjin sucks in, preparing for the chorus—

“At the Oppa (Oh) Oppa-Cabanaaaaa—” Seokjin suddenly belts out, loud enough for the whole pool area to hear.

“Oh my goddddddd!” Yoongi blanches, diving on top of Seokjin and pressing their lips together to shut him up. His heart is beating so fast and hard when Seokjin’s hands circle his waist to pull him closer that he can barely breathe.

“Took you long enough,” Seokjin murmurs when he pulls away.

“Remind me again why I’m with you?” Yoongi huffs, only half-jokingly, as he struggles to catch his breath.

“Oppa-sites attract?” Seokjin quips.

“I swear I will hurt you, Jin-hyung,” Yoongi threatens.

“Yeah.” Suddenly all traces of humor fall from Seokjin’s face. “Hurt me, oppa,” he purrs wantonly, glossy lips parted and eyes hooded as he grinds his cock up into Yoongi’s belly. “Fuck me. Please.”

The sight of his gorgeous boyfriend laid out beneath him, calling him oppa and begging to be fucked is enough to trigger the switch in Yoongi’s brain. Suddenly he doesn’t care about the people just outside the cabana, or the fact that Seokjin knows about his little kink.

“Fuck me. Please. Need you, oppa,” Seokjin encourages, watching the last of Yoongi’s inhibitions fade away.

Yoongi shudders, his pink tongue slipping out and licking at the corner of his mouth like it always does when Seokjin gets him really worked up. “Yeah? Need your oppa’s cock? Need your oppa to fuck you, baby?” Yoongi hisses, his voice low and desperate as he settles back on his haunches and lifts Seokjin’s legs, spreading him wide apart.

“Y-Yeah, please.” Seokjin bites his lower lip, his eyes dark and excited as he watches this bold, new side of Yoongi smooth a hand down his toned stomach, then through the pool of pre-cum dripping from his slit.

“So wet,” Yoongi husks, dipping his fingers into Seokjin’s hole and teasing at his prostate as Seokjin gasps and whimpers at the rough touch. Truth be told, he’s suspected that Yoongi had an oppa kink for a while now and was hoping the younger man would fess up on his own. But he never did. So Seokjin decided after a year of dating that it was time to give Yoongi a little nudge. After all, he’s more than game for this role play too—

“Need you, oppa. Fuck,” he breathes shakily as Yoongi lines up at his entrance. He enjoys fucking Yoongi too and they mix it up all the time, but there’s something about letting Yoongi take control like this that drives him particularly wild.

Yoongi leans forward, hooking Seokjin’s knees over his elbows as Yoongi’s slight but wiry frame bends him in half, breaching his rim. Yoongi’s cock is perfect—smaller than his for sure—but thick and long enough to hit all the right places as Yoongi sinks inside him. It feels so incredible that he doesn’t hold back the deep groan that bubbles up from his chest when Yoongi finally bottoms out. He suddenly finds a hand covering his mouth.

“Are you gonna be a good dongsaeng and be quiet while oppa fucks you?” Yoongi warns, and fuck—if oppa Yoongi isn’t the hottest thing Seokjin’s ever experienced, he doesn’t know what is. I should have done this months ago, he thinks as he nods meekly.

“Good boy,” Yoongi praises, removing his hand.

Yoongi begins to move inside him and he bites back his moans as tiny shockwaves ripple through him with each drag of Yoongi’s shaft. The whole situation is utterly sinful—the warm breeze blowing in under the cabana walls, the smell of Yoongi’s sunscreen, the squelch of lube as Yoongi fucks deep inside him, not to mention the murmur of voices walking by just a few feet away as Yoongi mouths at his nipples and whispers for him to “be a good boy for oppa.” It’s not a surprise that he can’t keep quiet for long—

“O-O-Oppa,” he groans loudly when Yoongi slides a hand under his ass, tilting his hips so that it’s a direct hit to his prostate with every thrust. His heart races, blood buzzing in his ears as trails of fire rip through his core.

“Can’t be quiet when oppa is fucking you this good, eh?” Yoongi rasps, his hips starting to stutter as pina colada scented sweat drips from his brow.

Seokjin shakes his head, yelping when a particularly deep thrust twists the fire in his gut. “Can’t oppa,” he gasps. “Feels too good.”

Yoongi grunts but doesn’t stop, instead slipping two fingers between Seokjin’s lips.

“Suck on these, baby, while I make you come.”

It doesn’t take long.

Seokjin comes undone quietly, one hand fisted in the sheets of the double lounge bed and the other stroking his cock, sucking on Yoongi’s fingers and dissolving into pleasure as Yoongi pummels him into the mattress. Yoongi spills inside him immediately after, with Seokjin whispering oppa into his ear—

“Excuse me?” the pool attendant calls out through the cabana wall.

“Yes? Come in,” Seokjin responds. “Perfect timing. I’m parched,” he says, turning to Yoongi who is snuggled up to his side. They had recovered from their post-orgasmic haze, cleaned themselves up with pool towels, and had just put their clothes back on, settling onto the lounge bed to relax.

“Can I bring you any food or refreshments?” the woman asks, untying the closure and peeking her head through.

Seokjin picks up a cabana menu, leafing through the pages as Yoongi peeks over his shoulder. “Ah, let’s see—something cold and fruity. Hmmm. How about a strawberry daiquiri for me, and for oppa here—” Yoongi’s fingers suddenly dig into his arm.

“Hyung!”

“Ouch! It’s okay, baby. This nice lady is clearly younger than you.” he snarks, watching Yoongi turn a pale shade of pink. She’s definitely not. He redirects his attention to the menu, flipping to the resort specials as the attendant eyes them with mild confusion. “As I said, oppa here will have—OH MY GOD!”

Yoongi and the attendant both jump at the sudden outburst.

“What the hell?” Yoongi rasps.

Seokjin turns to the attendant. “Scratch that. We will have the Copa Banana daiquiri and a Berry Melonlow mojito. Oh! And an order of Tony and Lola’s coconut shrimp, please.”

“Oh, I see you’re fans of Copa Cabana!” the attendant says with an excited smile.

“You could say that,” Seokjin chuckles, patting Yoongi’s thigh. “It holds some, ah, special memories.” He can feel Yoongi shrink into the lounge bed beside him.

“Oh yeah, me too! I saw Manilow in concert when I was younger,” she exclaims. “Now he was quite the oppa back in his day,” she says with a wiggle of her eyebrows.

“Oh no,” Yoongi groans under his breath as the attendant leaves them.

“I think you mean o-ppa, don’t you?” Seokjin laughs as he flattens a squirming Yoongi to the mattress, nosing at his neck. This is going to be so much fun.