He wiggles his fingers experimentally, curling them towards his stomach, and he smirks in satisfaction when Taehyung’s stomach coils and his forearm shakes. Jungkook straightens his digits and then repeats the curling motion, the pads of the fingers brushing on the elder’s prostate.
“ t-that’s-” Taehyung babbles and his forearm finally gives in, his body falling back against the mattress in a soft thud.
“J-jungkook, there’s l-lube in the drawer,” Taehyung stutters, pointing to the nightstand. Jungkook pulls out his fingers to reach over for the bottle, and uncaps it.