Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

SUMMER 2015

The confession, like most of Namjoon’s, comes completely unplanned and at the worst possible moment.

He’s the last one awake, scribbling some late-night thoughts into one of the battered lyric notebooks he keeps around the house. Seokjin is still out, meeting a friend, he’d said, but they all know it’s a hookup. Seokjin has a lot of friends, both platonic and clearly otherwise, and he’s long been the envy of many of the BigHit trainees.

Namjoon pushes the thought out of his head. He can’t afford to be thinking like that right now - about Seokjin’s lips all swollen and flushed, about what he looks like when he thrusts, about what his type is, what kind of guys he finds sexy - he really, really can’t. 

...Namjoon is thinking about it.

Worse, the lyrics he’s scribbled down reflect that. He groans and leans his head on his arms for a moment, slumped against the side of the couch. He’ll just let his eyes close for a minute, then keep working.

The sound of plastic dishware clattering to the grimy linoleum floor of their kitchen startles Namjoon awake some time later. He squints, confused, his contacts stinging in his eyes. It’s still night, late - past 2am, Namjoon is certain.

Seokjin is wiping down the kitchen counters, his broad shoulders slumped with exhaustion. Yoongi and Hoseok had cooked tonight, but the whirlwind of six boys crammed into a too-small kitchen all eating at once has left the place a mess. Namjoon feels a stab of affection at the sight, chased quickly by guilt. He’s been here the whole time and hasn’t done a thing to clean up.

“Hyung,” he calls, voice raspy after a long day of work and an hour of fitful, propped-up sleep.

“Sorry, Joon-ah, I didn’t mean to wake you.” Seokjin’s voice is soft, if also a little hoarse. Namjoon tries not to think about why.

“No, hyung, it’s okay. I should go to bed.” Namjoon scrubs a hand over his face. “D’you need any help?”

He knows Seokjin will say no.

“Hyung will do it. You can head to bed,” Seokjin says, but he makes no move to enforce the suggestion.

Namjoon isn’t sure what possesses him in the next moment. Blame it on the fatigue and the late hour, maybe.

“So how was he?”

Seokjin, for his part, also looks surprised.

“It’s rude to ask things like that, Namjoon-ah,” he chides, no force behind the words. There’s a pause, in which Namjoon debates the merits of sprinting out of the room versus pretending he’s fallen back asleep. 

“Not great, though.” Seokjin tosses the words over his shoulder, casual. “I’ve had better.”

Namjoon forces a sound of agreement, and it comes out too loud for this time of night.

He fumbles for something to say. Anything that won’t either reveal how overly interested in this topic he is or make things awkward.

Of course, what comes out is, “At least you’re getting some.”

Which is, needless to say, not what he’d hoped for.

“Like you aren’t,” Seokjin calls back, still casual.

Namjoon laughs again, that same awkward ha-HA that always seems to burst out of him at the worst possible times. Stay calm , he tells himself. This is just two friends chatting about hookups, and definitely not a panicked, inexperienced, baby-gay accidentally telling the hyung he’s maybe kind of in love with exactly how inexperienced he is.

“Never, uh, never like you. Uh.” He gestures awkwardly, though Seokjin’s back is to him. “Never actually...you know.” The words die in Namjoon’s mouth and he caves to the childish euphemism.

“You’ve what?” The tips of Seokjin’s ears are going red, and Namjoon pauses, mouth open, to rewind what he’s just said.

“I mean - I never - with a guy- ” Namjoon fumbles for words, a distant, panicked buzzing starting up in the back of his head, or maybe that’s just the exhaustion. “Not like - anyone, I meant that...you said…” It’s too late, too late, too late. All he’s doing now is making things worse.

Who brings up their own sexual history when they’re trying to congratulate one of their friends on getting laid, anyway? In what world is that normal? Namjoon’s going to have to leave the country. Quit the band. Change his name.

At least it was Seokjin hyung, part of his brain suggests.

That just makes it worse, you idiot, says another, and Namjoon shuts them both up by laughing far too loudly and abruptly springing to his feet. 

“Never mind, hyung, I misspoke. It’s nothing.” Namjoon laughs awkwardly again, one hand fiddling nervously with the hem of his shirt. “I’m gonna…” he gestures at the doorway, and scurries out without looking back.

To Seokjin’s credit, he doesn’t bring it up again. Namjoon stews on his stupid mistake for a few days and then things move on like normal. As normal as things can be, when you’ve accidentally fallen in love with one of your bandmates and you’re also hurtling towards the biggest comeback of your career and you have to work closely with said bandmate because he’s the oldest and you’re the leader and there's never enough time to record and your maknae is going through what appears to be his second puberty and - and Namjoon’s hyperventilating again.

Alone, thank goodness. He looks around nervously anyway, as though a staff member might be lurking in the corner of his studio with a camera.

The room is empty, though, except for his figurines. Usually a source of contentment to him, now their blank, staring eyes seem to be accusatory and full of judgement. 

Some leader, they say.

Some inspirational figure, can’t even follow through.

Some fucking voice for the youth. 

Namjoon buries his head in his hands, and counts his breaths.

He’s interrupted by a tentative knock at his door.

It’s Jungkook. He knows immediately, the same way he can tell any of his bandmates from the sound of their breathing or footsteps. Namjoon sits up straight and swigs from his water bottle. Takes a deep breath. It's fine. He's fine. Time to be a good leader for their baby, whom he treasures deeply, his teenage tantrums aside.

“Come in!” Namjoon calls, willing an encouraging expression onto his face.

Jungkook shuffles inside with a sweet, nervous smile.

“Hey hyung.”

Namjoon can tell immediately that something is going on, and his own problems fade to the background. Jungkook needs help, and that’s all that matters.

“What’s up, Kook-ah? Come sit with hyung.” Namjoon gestures for Jungkook to sit in the single chair in the corner of his studio and scoots his own rolling desk chair closer.

Jungkook fidgets anxiously, but he does sit down. It’s clear that he’s been running his hands through his hair just like Namjoon has, it’s a mess. Jungkook has never been very good at hiding his emotions from any of them and it’s something Namjoon is grateful for.

“Hyung, I’m not supposed to tell you this,” Jungkook blurts out, then immediately snaps his mouth shut and pulls his lower lip into his mouth.

Namjoon blinks and tries to keep the fear out of his voice and expression.

“Who told you that, Kook?” he asks gently. He knows that if he pushes too hard he’ll scare Jungkook off.

A hundred terrifying possibilities run through his head. Namjoon immediately starts running a list of managers and staff in his mind, trying to identify who might have hurt their maknae. Not again, he thinks. Please don’t tell me I failed again and let someone hurt him.

Jungkook’s answer stops those thoughts in their tracks.

“Jiminie hyung,” he mumbles, staring at his shoes.

All the air in Namjoon’s lungs leaves him in a whoosh.

“Oh my god. Jungkook, you scared me!” He laughs aloud. “I thought - never mind what I thought, why did Jimin say you can’t tell me something?”

If it’s another member, this can’t be anything truly bad. Jimin’s very sensitive and is one of the members least likely to share his troubles with the hyungs lest he burden them. Namjoon breathes easier and waits for Jungkook to tell him something manageable that they can address as a team or that he can talk to Jimin about one-on-one.

“We’re supposed to tell everyone as a group,” Jungkook says, lower lip still held between his teeth. “‘M supposed to ask you to call a group meeting.”

Namjoon’s brow furrows. Maybe this isn’t so simple.

“Jungkook?” he asks, voice quiet. He reaches out to put a hand on Jungkook’s knee, then thinks better of it and pulls back. He’s sure Jungkook notices, but thankfully the maknae spares him the embarrassment of acknowledgement. “Is one of you hurt in any way? Are you safe?”

Jungkook’s head jerks up, and his cute rosebud mouth falls open in surprise. Namjoon almost coos at how adorable he is.

“No, hyung! It’s not - it’s - it’s not that!” Jungkook’s familiar stutter makes an appearance, and Namjoon’s chest swells with affection and relief at the same time.

Thank god. Thank god nobody is in danger. Thank god his members are safe. The wave of relief is so acute that it takes Namjoon by surprise - there's no reason to think that there was even a problem in the first place! To Namjoon’s horror, tears prickle at the corners of his eyes, and he shakes his head to rid himself of them. He must be truly stressed if he’s reacting like this to what’s amounted to nothing at all.

“Hyung, I-” Jungkook looks pained. His face is flushed and his hands are fisted in his lap. 

Namjoon holds his breath and waits.

“Jimin hyung and I are dating.” Jungkook says it so fast that Namjoon can barely distinguish the words from each other.

Jungkook squeezes his eyes closed, his hands still clenched. Namjoon’s mind grinds to a halt, then kicks back into gear at quadruple speed.

Thankfully, his instincts take over. Namjoon lurches forward to pull Jungkook into an awkward hug, squeezing him hard and cupping one hand around the back of his head.

Namjoon isn’t exactly surprised by the information. The two of them have been dancing around each other for months on end and Jimin’s pining has long been obvious to anyone with eyes. That isn’t what gives him the sudden need to hold Jungkook.

Jimin came out to Namjoon within months of the group being formed. On the very same night, in fact, that they'd gotten the news that he was “in” and would debut with Bangtan Sonyeondan alongside Namjoon and Jungkook and Yoongi and the rest. 

Namjoon will never forget that night because it tore his heart straight out of his chest.

Jimin hadn’t been home more than a few minutes. He’d just shared the news with the others before Namjoon had taken him aside for a congratulatory pat on the back and the heartfelt, if awkwardly delivered message that he was truly happy to have Jimin with them from now on.

To Namjoon's horror, instead of responding with excitement or his typical bright smile, Jimin had stared at him for a second and then his sweet, chubby face had crumpled. He slumped to the floor right there in Namjoon’s bedroom, a hand over his mouth stifling his sobs like he was used to it. Like he had long practice at the act of hiding the kind of pain that burns a person alive from the inside out. Namjoon’s evening protein shake (no food, never enough food in those days) curdled in his stomach as he knelt next to Jimin, reaching out just short of touching him.

“Jiminah! What’s wrong?” Namjoon's hand fluttered anxiously, reaching for Jimin's shoulder, then back, desperate to stop the tears and with no idea what was causing them.

Desperate, even as the rest of his mind howled in anguish that he was losing another one. That this band was falling apart before it ever formed. That his dream was slipping away from him with every broken-spirited trainee that left them.

“Namjoon hyung,” Jimin had choked out, tears dripping onto the floor. He held out one little hand, warding Namjoon away. “I have to tell you something, and it’s okay if you don’t - if it’s. It’s okay.”

Namjoon crouched as close to Jimin as the outstretched hand would allow. His long limbs felt awkward, his body clumsy and useless. He settled cross-legged in an attempt to coax Jimin to do the same, but Jimin hadn’t moved. Namjoon’s heart was beating so hard he feared Jimin might hear it and know how scared he was.

Jimin wrapped his arms around his shaking body (so small, bulging with muscle but still so small underneath) and whispered, chin tucked to his chest:

“I’m gay.”

Namjoon felt dizzy. Guilt bloomed, sour, in his gut.

“Yoongi hyung knows. I’m sorry.” Jimin choked out, still directed at the floor.

Namjoon didn’t think, then. He rocked forward into Jimin so hard that they were both knocked to the floor. He squeezed Jimin’s muscled shoulder with one hand and tried to wrap the other arm around under his back, even as Jimin squawked in surprise.

Namjoon clung to his dongsaeng and kissed his hair, overwhelmed and confused and hurting for both Jimin and for himself.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Namjoon repeated it like a mantra, needing to hear it as much as Jimin did. “Jimin-ah, our Jiminie, it’s okay. You’re in the group and nobody is taking you out, not for anything,” he murmured into the top of Jimin’s dark head as he cried.

The moment Namjoon felt that Jimin wouldn’t run away from him if he let go, he fished his phone out of his pocket and texted Yoongi, “SOS”. 

He couldn’t do this alone. He might be the leader, but he’s not...he’s not gay, he thought, or maybe he is, or something somewhere in between. But Namjoon had never told anyone about that before in his entire life and fuck, he needed Yoongi for this. The animosity between them didn’t matter, couldn’t matter right now.

Jimin was so much braver than him, Namjoon thought that night, as he swallowed down his own secret. He held the shuddering, sobbing boy in his arms while he waited for Yoongi. And he forced back his own tears because this wasn’t about him, it was about Jimin, and Jimin was so much braver than Namjoon would ever be.

When Yoongi finally appeared, he closed the door quietly behind him as if nothing was amiss. Understanding dawned on his face in seconds, and Namjoon had been so ashamed at his inability to handle this alone that he couldn’t meet his hyung’s eyes.

Yoongi coaxed Jimin from his arms and stroked his hair, murmuring words Namjoon couldn’t hear. When Namjoon got up to leave, flushed with shame, Yoongi shot him a glare so piercing that Namjoon dropped back to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

It had been a long night for all of them.

Namjoon realizes now, embracing Jungkook, that he's never really told Jimin exactly how much the events of that night set in motion for him. How much he’d helped Namjoon on his own journey. Namjoon has never sat him down and held his hands in the way Jimin so loves, and said, thank you for showing me what courage is. Never said, I’m bisexual and I’m telling you because you trusted me, once, even though I could have ended your career right then.

He realizes what a mistake he's made, because now, Jimin is proving that bravery all over again, and this time it’s with Jungkook, too. Jungkook, who never even came out to any of them outright. Trusting his hyungs in the way Jungkook always has, he's simply let the knowledge of his quietly self-discovered sexual identity spread through the group by osmosis. That was over a year ago now, Namjoon realizes.

Maybe Namjoon really is the one lagging behind. Maybe it’s time that he stopped burying his feelings in lyrics, and beats, and hours hiding away in the studio. Hiding from a hyung who cooks his favorite dinner and always makes sure he has his backup glasses and packs an extra hoodie in his bag each day.

Namjoon breathes in the scent of Jungkook’s shampoo and shakes the realization off. It’s not time to think about him, not right now.

“Jungkook-ah...I’m happy for you,” Namjoon says, forcing down the thousand new worries coiling in his gut about how to manage an intra-band relationship. “Thank you for being responsible and wanting to tell us all as a group.”

Jungkook makes a soft, embarrassed noise and pulls back. He sits back into the chair and refuses to meet Namjoon’s eyes.

“I just wanted you to know first,” he says softly. He doesn’t elaborate on why.

Namjoon smiles despite himself, despite the suffocating terror mounting inside him about keeping this quiet. With significant effort he prevents himself from launching into a spiel about privacy, caution, and the press. Suppressing that, though, only shifts more focus onto the nagging voice deep inside that tells him he’s long since been left behind. All his excuses about not acknowledging his feelings being better for the group, lower risk, the safest option - those suddenly aren’t valid any more. Namjoon had managed to forget that there’s been more than one love story unfolding itself within Bangtan for some time now.

He takes a deep breath.

“Thank you for trusting me, Jungkook. Hyung loves you.” 

He means it from the bottom of his heart, and his smile is soft and genuine. 

Jungkook’s answering one is, too. 

“And you - if you - need any advice about, uh, the more intimate aspects of things - “ Namjoon is struggling not to choke on the words and Jungkook instantly goes bright red.

Talking casually about porn or teasing their youngest as a group is one thing, when there’s nothing at stake, but this, one-on-one… Namjoon knows he needs to cover the bases here, as a hyung and a leader — but god, it’s embarrassing for multiple reasons.

Jungkook actually looks Namjoon in the eye for a moment, despite his blush. There’s suddenly an air of pridefulness about him, like when he wins a physical competition or masters a choreography before anyone else.

“Don’t worry, hyung." His chest is puffed out as though he’s listing gym accomplishments and not talking about having sex with one of their mutual best friends in the world. "We’ve been, uh, doing that...stuff...for a while already,” Jungkook says. 

Namjoon’s mouth drops open. Jungkook’s snaps shut, and he suddenly seems to teleport to the door.

“Well ok hyung I’ll see you at the group meeting later thanks bye!” Jungkook barely has the last word out of his mouth before the door is swinging shut behind him, leaving Namjoon gaping at the empty chair where he’d been a moment before.

Well. Even the maknae has more experience (and apparently more emotional maturity, when it comes to love) than he does.

Great.

A few weeks later, Namjoon is laying in bed trying to distract himself by browsing through his phone. Two of the members dating each other hasn’t actually changed things very much — although whether that’s only because the pair have already acted like a couple for months or not, Namjoon isn’t sure.

Namjoon sighs and looks across the room to Taehyung’s empty bed. It’s not unusual that he isn’t here, but Namjoon hasn't had the time to talk to him one-on-one about how he’s handling having significantly less of Jimin’s attention, and he was hoping to do that tonight before sleeping. He also needs to check in with Hoseok to make sure there isn’t any resentment building between him and Jimin regarding certain activities taking place possibly (probably, definitely,) on his bed. And he’s been meaning to talk to Yoongi as well, maybe try and find a way to ask for his advice on Namjoon’s own...problem, hopefully without revealing too much of himself.

Okay, maybe backing off the anxiety-induced micromanaging isn’t going as well as his therapist hoped it would.

Namjoon rolls over and buries his face in his mountain of Ryan plushies. For a moment, he entertains the idea of just letting his bandmates all run wild and seeing what happens. It’s always a rough few days when Taehyung and Jimin fight, especially over something genuinely important, but they’ll get over it. And an angry Hoseok isn’t exactly great to practice with, but…

...Who is Namjoon kidding? He's the leader, and it’s his job to manage the group even when it’s hard.

Even when the circumstances bring up things he’d rather keep buried.

There’s a knock on the door and Namjoon grunts into the plushies, not bothering to move. The door opens and someone comes in.

“Yah.” Yoongi's voice.

Namjoon groans and contemplates rolling over, but in the end he stays where he is, kicking one foot into the air halfheartedly in acknowledgement of the visitor. A big, warm hand closes around it, and that means Yoongi must not have come in alone, because Yoongi’s hands are always cold.

Seokjin, then.

Namjoon ignores the twist in his stomach, buries his face deeper, and tells himself that it’s no different than Yoongi’s touch, or Hoseok’s.

“C’mon, Namjoon-ah, get up. We need to figure out how we’re handling this.” Yoongi’s using his hyung voice, not his casual-best-friend voice.

At that, Namjoon drags himself to a sitting position. He scrubs a hand through his hair, a short-cropped blend of scraggly blonde and dark roots that are growing out to be dyed for comeback. Just thinking the word ‘comeback’ has Namjoon’s chest tightening, and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. When he opens them, both his hyungs are looking at him - Seokjin with obvious concern, and Yoongi with the kind of analytical stare that means he’s making a decision.

“What do you mean, ‘how we’re handling this’. It’s my job, hyung, you don’t have to worry.” Namjoon looks from one to the other, suspicious.

“Nope.” Yoongi’s tone brooks no argument. “There are seven people in this group, and we’ll be solving things as seven. If there’s anything to solve.”

Seokjin looks Namjoon in the eye, and he’s got the same determined-hyung face on as Yoongi. Maybe Namjoon has underestimated the combined power of ‘SIN’ after all.

“Tell me, right now, what you’re worrying about. One-two-three-four, list them.” Seokjin speaks quickly, not leaving space for Namjoon to interrupt.

He opens his mouth to protest anyway, and Yoongi cuts him off as though they’ve practiced this.

“List, Joon-ah.”

The pressure from Yoongi rankles a bit, as it always has. Their difference in age hadn’t stopped countless screaming fights a few years back, and old habits die hard. Seokjin must read the change in his face, though, because he takes a step closer and in a surprisingly physical move, places one hand on top of Namjoon’s head. 

His touch is gentle, scratching lightly at Namjoon’s scalp. It’s something he’s done before, coming up behind Namjoon when his shoulders are taut with stress or when they’re backstage and Namjoon is caught up on a misstep from rehearsal. 

Anxiety rushes out of him in a whoosh of breath. It surprises even Namjoon, and he blinks at the two of them for a moment, recalibrating.

Yoongi rolls his eyes and pushes onward with visible effort.

“So?” he asks, eyebrows raised. Yoongi’s hair is in a similarly in-between state, bleached lighter but still brown, a visual represenation of the slow approach of the new album. “I know we’re all stressed about work, but what’s going on here that’s bothering you?”

Namjoon sighs. “It’s nothing, hyung. Just want to make sure the dynamic between all of us isn’t disrupted by Jimin and Kookie getting together.”

Seokjin snorts. “As if they haven’t been together for half a year already. Have you noticed anything different?” His hand drops from Namjoon’s head and Namjoon feels the absence acutely.

“Well...okay, not really, but I know I’m too distracted right now with writing and our extra practice.” He jerks his chin at Seokjin, referring to the additional hours the two of them spend in the dance studio together to make sure they get the new choreography down.

Those hours are both a torment and a time together that Namjoon values immensely. Both he and Seokjin spend the practices focused, exhausted, and frustrated all at once, but Namjoon has to admit that seeing Seokjin like that is...kind of a turn-on. And his delighted shout when he nails a move for the first time always suffuses Namjoon with a warmth that he has to pretend to himself he can’t place.

“You’re working too hard, Namjoon.” Seokjin speaks frankly, but his voice is soft. “It’s not going to be good for any of us if you’re the first to crack and the album isn’t even out yet.”

The words clearly aren’t meant to wound, but they do. Namjoon can’t help but see the concern as criticism, and he throws his shoulders back, suddenly angry.

“I know that, hyung! I know that better than anyone, so don’t -” The words die in his throat as he catches the change in Seokjin’s expression.

This isn’t the hyung who has always respected Namjoon’s place as leader, or the one who jokes around with Jungkook as though he’s the real maknae. The Seokjin in front of him is very suddenly the man who takes his position as their eldest seriously, and is ready to use that authority, however rarely it's actually called for.

Namjoon covers his face and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. He doesn’t want to hear Seokjin scold him, to hear his voice laced with disappointment or reprimand.

He flops backwards onto the bed.

“Sorry, hyung.” Namjoon knows that if he doesn’t say it, Yoongi will be glaring when he opens his eyes.

Seokjin sighs, and then there are strong hands on Namjoon’s shoulders, digging in and massaging hard. Namjoon keeps his eyes shut for a moment, trying to live within the physical feeling and tamp down the unholy storm of emotions rising in his stomach.

He gives himself three beats, then takes a deep breath and sits up, dislodging Seokjin’s hands.

Namjoon pinches the bridge of his nose, and speaks so honestly that it startles him, almost as if Seokjin’s touch knocked something loose within him.

“Look. Taehyung and Jimin are bound to fight now that Jimin’s attention is taken up, and god knows how upset Hobah is going to be with whatever goes on in their room now. There's the production deadlines, and the shooting, and the tour - just - all of us are on edge with work, and we’re -” Namjoon gestures emphatically, trying to sum up the intense stresses of idol life with one sweep of his hand.

There’s shame (at admitting to his struggle) warring with pride (in practicing what he preaches regarding communication), and they both catch in his throat, cutting off the words. When he chances to look up, Yoongi is studying him, his gaze inscrutable. Namjoon inhales, ready to speak again, but Seokjin’s laugh cuts him off.

“Ah, Namjoon-ah, that’s it?” Seokjin’s smile is indulgent. “Taehyung and Jimin fight every 10 minutes, but have you ever seen it be about anything that matters?”

Namjoon opens his mouth, to say that yes, he absolutely has, but apparently the question was rhetorical, because Seokjin continues.

“No, listen to hyung. Have you ever seen it last when it’s something that matters, really? And do you really think that Hoseokie isn’t going to scream so loudly that they hear it at the company building if there’s a single figurine out of place in their room?” Seokjin flattens out both eyebrows and purses his lips in an exaggerated parody of Hoseok’s “about to lose it” face.

Namjoon laughs. It’s wobbly, and a little awkward, but it's a laugh all the same. A genuine smile blooms on Seokjin’s face. Yoongi’s smiling too, fond and indulgent, at the both of them.

“Work is...we’re in this together, Joon-ah.” Seokjin’s voice is quiet now, and carries with it the exhaustion of the past several months. “We’re seven. If it’s too much on one of us, they need to speak up.” He elbows Yoongi in the side as he says it, dodging his roommate’s answering jab and ignoring his scowl at the obvious call-out. 

Namjoon sighs. They’re right and he knows it - it’s not as though he ever stopped knowing it, but Namjoon is as aware as anyone that sometimes he struggles to see the forest for the trees.

There’s suddenly a loud clatter from the direction of the kitchen, and all three of their heads turn towards the door. Yoongi scoffs in the back of his throat and strides to the doorway to follow the sound and investigate whatever the kids are doing, turning to fix Namjoon with a look as he goes. They share a silent conversation, of the type only he and Yoongi can. It’s part “I understand”, and part “do as hyung says”, and part “this isn’t over”, and then he’s gone and Namjoon is alone with Seokjin.

“Thanks, hyung.” It’s genuine.

“Ah, Namjoonie,” Seokjin sighs, smiling slightly and reaching out to brush his hand through Namjoon’s hair in a surprisingly tender way. 

Usually Seokjin only acts like this if he thinks Namjoon is hurt. Or scared, or in a bad mood, or extra stressed, or - okay, maybe Seokjin does this for him more than he’s realized. Namjoon can feel the blush rising in his cheeks and he wills it down with all his might.

Say it, says a voice deep in Namjoon’s mind. Now is the moment, just say it.

That’s insane, though. They haven’t even had time to adjust to the group’s first couple, forget adding a second (as if Seokjin would return his feelings, anyway). And in the run up to a comeback (the biggest comeback, Namjoon’s brain hisses) is definitely not the time, even if he was to confess.

So Namjoon lets Seokjin brush his hair off his forehead and tug playfully at his earring, and he says yes, hyung when Seokjin tells him to go to bed early. And when Seokjin leaves the room, he flops onto his back and covers his face and yells, the sound muffled by the fabric of his hoodie.

Chapter Text

Something Namjoon may have forgotten to take into account is that the most perceptive member of Bangtan is actually neither Seokjin nor Yoongi.  

That honor, though it’s a close race that seems to get closer every day, goes to his roommate. Namjoon was so busy worrying about Taehyung and Jimin that he didn’t allot any brain space to worrying about Taehyung’s unnerving ability to look into a person’s eyes and see their soul. 

Namjoon is lying in bed, listening to Taehyung’s even breathing and closing his eyes against the faint glow of his phone screen. As tired as he is, he can’t seem to fall asleep. 

“Hyung?” Taehyung’s voice seems even deeper than usual so late at night. 

Namjoon makes an inquisitive noise in response, exhaustion weighing heavily on his mind and body. He’d spent eight hours straight in the studio working on Run today, trying to perfect the audio balance along with Yoongi and the other producers. Eight hours straight, with dance practices on either end. 

“What’s wrong?” Taehyung asks. 

“Nothing’s wrong, Taehyung-ah, hyung’s just tired,” Namjoon rasps, the familiar anxiety-driven tightness swelling in his chest. 

“No,” Taehyung comments mildly, rolling over in bed to face him. “Something’s bothering you. I know already, so just tell me, hyung.” 

Namjoon presses his lips together. Of course Taehyung can tell. Taehyung can always tell. 

“Are you…” He pauses, trying to phrase his worries in a way that won’t seem accusatory. “How are you feeling about Jimin and Jungkookie?” Namjoon asks finally. It's a fair question to ask right now, considering that Taehyung is in Jungkook's bed tonight instead of his own specifically because the couple. 

He can hear the smile in Taehyung’s voice when he answers. 

“They’re so happy. It’s been so long coming. Are you worried about leaks, hyung? Dispatch?” 

“N-no.” Namjoonis worried about leaks, but that’s not something for Taehyung to stress about. “Are you...do you feel…” 

The bedcovers rustle as Taehyung props himself up on one elbow suddenly, head resting on his palm. Namjoon can feel his gaze in the darkness. 

“Namjoon hyung-ah," He says, accent feeling stronger so late at night. "They’ve been together for months and were in love before that. Haven’t you noticed? Jiminie and I aren’t fighting. It's...it's easier now than before. Than with all the hiding, and the worrying.” 

Namjoon should be relieved, but the sigh he lets out somehow only makes his chest feel tighter. 

“That’s not what’s bothering you, though. You should tell me.” Taehyung flops back down onto his back. “I’ll never judge you, hyung.” 

Taehyung (while he can also be the most long-winded) is the most blunt person that Namjoon has ever met. Moreover, he’s frighteningly perceptive, and Namjoon knows that if he tries to act like nothing's wrong, Taehyung will only grow quietly more and more concerned until it's affecting the whole group. Namjoon will be facing these gentle interrogations every day if he tries to evade any further. And the worst part is, he knows Taehyung is right. 

“It’s not something you have to worry about, Tae.” Namjoon's tone is heavy. 

“I’m not worrying about it. It’s better to say things out loud and communicate honestly than to keep all your stresses inside.” 

And those aren’t Taehyung’s words, they’re Namjoon’s, quoted back at him without judgement, but with clear intent. 

Namjoon sighs. 

“It’s embarrassing.” 

“You watched me fall down the stairs at Inkigayo the first time I saw Taeyeon sunbaenim in real life, hyung.” 

Namjoon smiles despite himself. 

“Well. It’s..." Namjoon pauses and tries to think of a way to phrase this without completely humiliating himself.

"You know my raps are all empty bragging, anyway,” he blurts it out, sudden and harsh, and oh, that was a little more than Namjoon had intended to say. Those were not the feelings he was supposed to be letting out right now.

He forces a laugh, and it tastes like blood. 

Taehyung sits fully upright and throws the covers off himself. 

“Hyung! No!”  

Namjoon frantically shushes him, and Taehyung lowers his volume but not his intensity, continuing in a still slightly overloud hiss.  

“No! You - you’re - hyung, never say that! You’re the best there is, except Yoongi hyung-” Namjoon chokes back a real laugh this time, because ouch, but really, he couldn’t expect anything less from Taehyung. 

“Don’t make me go and get Jungkookie!”  

The idea of sitting here at 2:30 am and staring into Jungkook’s brimming doe eyes while he tells Namjoon with all the earnestness in the world how amazing and inspirational he is makes Namjoon want to run screaming into the night. He can’t handle that right now, he can’t, and so he just spits out the easiest explanation he can think of -  

“I’m a virgin!” 

Taehyung falls silent.  

Namjoon is paralyzed.  

Maybe if he holds his breath long enough he’ll just suffocate and never, ever have to face what he practically just shouted. 

The silence breaks only a few seconds later: 

“That’s it?” Taehyung sounds genuinely surprised. 

Whatever Namjoon expected, it wasn’t that. Frustration wells up inside him, chokes him, so he spits it out into the darkness. 

“I talk about self-expression, and knowing who you are, and living in the moment, but I don’t even know myself or my own sexuality!" He runs a hand through his hair, feeling like if this isn't the breaking point, he doesn't want to know what is. "It’s just...what the fuck am I doing here? How much of me is a fraud, exactly?”  

Taehyung is silent, the kind of silent that means he’s genuinely contemplating every word that Namjoon’s said. The guilt of throwing all of this at his dongsaeng suddenly and in the middle of the night rises so high that Namjoon thinks he may drown. 

After a while, Taehyung sighs, and crosses his legs under the bedcovers and his hands behind his head. 

“I’m a virgin,” says Taehyung. “But I know I like girls. I’ve kissed girls and it was nice, and like, I got hard.” 

Namjoon doesn’t respond, still frozen, and Taehyung seems to take that as a cue to continue. 

“I don’t know if I like boys, but it doesn’t...really matter to me.” Taehyung props himself on his elbow again, and this time, Namjoon forces himself to turn his head. “I’m not sure, but I’m okay with it. Why do we have to know?”

"You're not a fraud if I'm not, hyung. I think the things you say in your lyrics are the things everyone wonders about." Taehyung shifts again. His eyes are open, focused on the ceiling as he searches for words. Namjoon doesn't dare to breathe.

Taehyung takes a deep breath and sighs it out, rolling to face Namjoon again as he does. His eyes are bright and honest, catching the light from his discarded phone.

"Isn't that kind of what it's about? I'm scared, scared, scared"?

Something comes loose inside of Namjoon. 

It’s the Taehyung effect, he thinks. Something about the way his most wild, eccentric friend can turn on a dime to radiate effortless peace. Something about the intense calm Taehyung brings with him wherever he goes, once you get through those first few layers of pure chaotic energy. About his sureness of mind when it comes to the people he loves, and the way his honeyed voice fills the dark room. 

It’s easier to say it, in the dark. 

“I’ve been with girls. I like them. I like them, uh, a lot.” 

Taehyung snorts. “I think we all know that, hyung.”  

Namjoon rolls his eyes even though Taehyung can’t see him. 

“I’ve eaten girls out. Gotten a lot of blowjobs, and like, at the time that was the greatest thing ever, but.” 

That Taehyung doesn’t scoff or make another joke tells Namjoon how seriously he’s taking this. It’s both scary and touching. 

“My girlfriend in high school got scared, when we were gonna, you know, try for the first time. So we did other stuff instead, and then I came to Seoul, and we broke up, and…” 

“And now we live in the dance studio and will never have sex again, yeah,” Taehyung finishes. “Wow. Rap Monster’s monster cock, Too Big To Fuck,” he continues, putting on a mock announcer voice. 

Namjoon swears and throws a pillow across the room at him. Taehyung catches it, cackling. 

“But it’s not that,” Namjoon continues, feeling like if he doesn’t say it now, in this little confession-bubble that Taehyung has created, he never will. 

“How can I even call myself bi if I’ve never slept with a guy. Especially…” Namjoon trails off.  

That part...he’s not sure he can ever say that part. 

“Oh, this is about Jin hyung,” Taehyung says, as simply as if he was commenting on the weather. 

Namjoon chokes, and in doing so, gives himself away. 

“Why would it be! I meant in general!”  

“Hyung…” Taehyung pauses, and seems to decide to let it drop. “You’d be the first person to say that you determine your identity, not your experiences.” 

Namjoon can’t deny that. It’s just a lot harder to apply that advice to himself than others. 

“And that’s the last thing hyung is going to care about.” Taehyung’s voice is steady and warm. “You don’t have to say it out loud. But I think you know he’s not going to care.” 

Namjoon closes his eyes and tries to force Taehyung’s words into his brain. Like if he repeats them enough, he’ll finally start to believe it. 

The sheets rustle again as Taehyung rolls over and sighs. 

Namjoon breathes shallowly, waiting. 

“You’re an amazing person, hyung. I want you to see it, too.” 

Namjoon blinks at the ceiling. 

I'm scared, scared, scared

That I might lose you

Fall 2015  

Namjoon thinks about what Taehyung said. 

He thinks about it, and he thinks about Jimin, and about relationships, and about the difference between bravery and taking chances. 

He goes for long walks in the autumn air and watches leaves fall from the trees, and he thinks about Seokjin, and music, and art, and love.

He writes, and then he writes some more.

They celebrate his and Jungkook's birthdays together, and the love Namjoon holds for his six bandmates swells in his chest until he thinks he might drown in it. When he stumbles to bed late that night, all of them more than a little drunk, Seokjin pulls him close and kisses the top of his head. He plays it off with a playful slap on the back and a shouted “Happy Birthday, brat!” and an extra-exaggerated drunken wobble, but somehow, it doesn’t feel like a joke. 

Namjoon thinks for a long time, and then he talks to Jimin. 

It’s not on purpose that the situation works out the way it does, but it’s not quite an accident either. Jimin has a way of creating time and space for any member that’s harboring some secret stress. A way of manipulating events and plans so that the person in question ends up in the setting most likely to encourage them to open up to him (or to another member, or to call their parents or siblings, or to do whatever Jimin has deemed the most healing option). 

When something is on Namjoon’s mind, it seems almost inevitable that he’ll find himself somehow curled up on the sofa with Jimin and a few bottles of beer or soju. Or sprawled at the kitchen table with Jimin and a few bottles of beer or soju. Or - well, there’s always Jimin, and there’s always a little alcohol to help things along. 

It's not that Jimin is a scary person (at least, not always). Jimin in this context - late at night and five beers deep, giggly and adorable and clinging happily to Namjoon’s arm - isn’t scary at all.  

It’s more that admitting fault, or admitting - whatever this is - is scary, and it’s particularly scary for Namjoon, who really doesn’t want to inject doubts about his leadership capabilities or anxiety management this close to a comeback (the biggest comeback).  

“Hyung, you’re worrying.” Jimin’s head knocks against Namjoon’s shoulder. “You should be drinking!”  

“Yeah, well...” Namjoon doesn’t bother to deny it. 

“You’re doing great, you know.” Jimin pulls back and meets Namjoon’s eyes, full to the brim with his usual earnestness. He takes one of Namjoon’s hands in both of his. “It’s going to be incredible. ARMY will love it. I love it.” 

Namjoon is actually incredibly confident in the upcoming album. The songs are damn good. A perfect continuation from 花樣年華 part 1, and with how well I Need You has been doing...he’s pretty sure they’ve hit on something that Run will only build from. 

(So why is it, he wonders, that the lyrics he’s writing these days are so dark? Why is it that in his low moments he feels more suffocated than ever, more of a fraud than ever?) 

“Ah, Jimin-ah, it’s not that.” Namjoon tries to smile reassuringly.  

Based on Jimin’s expression, it might have come across as more of a grimace. 

“Is it Jin hyung?” Jimin asks, softly and without judgement.  

Namjoon presses his lips together. “Did Taehyung tell you?” 

“No, silly,” Jimin giggles, rocking back in his chair a little dangerously. “I’m not blind, hyung. He loves you so much.” 

Namjoon blinks rapidly. What? 

He speaks carefully. “Jimin-ah, what do you mean, ‘he loves me so much’?”  

“Hyung,” Jimin tips forward again, front chair legs hitting the floor with a slam and both hands grasping at Namjoon’s sleeve. He frowns exaggeratedly, eyes flicking over Namjoon’s face. 

“Hyung, don’t you see the way he looks at you?”  

Namjoon’s heart is suddenly beating so loudly it drowns out all sound in the room. His brain is misfiring, trying to make the connection through the light haze of the beer. He swallows hard. 

“Hyung takes care of all of us, Jimin,” Namjoon tries to correct him gently. 

Sure, Namjoon has turned his head just in time to catch Seokjin looking away. Sure, he’s met his admiring gaze in the mirror during practice, or felt the warmth of his reassurance after an acceptance speech. But that’s not - it’s not for Namjoon. It’s for all of them. Seokjin watches all  the members with fondness when he thinks no one is looking. He congratulates Namjoon when he does well with the choreography because their struggle with it is mutual, not because of some hidden feelings. Seokjin cares for them all quietly, carefully - from behind the curtain, as it were. 

It’s one of his favorite things about their eldest hyung. He keeps the group together and happy and well-fed without ever really letting on that he’s the one doing it. When someone is dragging, Seokjin makes them laugh. When Jungkook is bubbling over with energy and about to drive them all insane, Seokjin roughhouses with him. When Hoseok is wound a bit too tight, Seokjin cooks him his favorite dishes and takes the maknaes out on his own dime so that there's an empty dorm to sleep in. And Seokjin fully allows Namjoon to occupy the leadership role, only stepping in in such a capacity when absolutely necessary, which is frankly almost never. Hoseok is the strictest of them all when it comes to hierarchy, followed by Yoongi - Seokjin is happier to play with the maknaes and keep everyone laughing than to wield authority.  

An actual assertion of that authority usually comes at Namjoon’s expense, but...it would be a lie to say it’s not also something of a relief. Seokjin, as their eldest, is someone to whom it’s not just acceptable for Namjoon to cede control, but expected. When Namjoon is too tired or too overwhelmed or too lost in his head, Seokjin is the one to herd the others to where they need to be. When he and Yoongi are at the studio three sleepless nights in a row, Seokjin is the one who comes to get them. 

Namjoon always assumed, on those late nights when Seokjin guided him through the motions of eating something and getting ready for bed, that he was doing the same for Yoongi back in their shared room. Assumed that when Seokjin snatched his phone away and told him to go to sleep, tone joking but with just enough edge to communicate that he meant it, he was nagging the others as well. It never occurred to him that these particular caretaking gestures might be something special, something meant for him and him alone. 

He’d always assumed that it simply wasn’t possible for Seokjin to feel the same way. 

Namjoon only realizes that he’s been staring silently and a little bit drunkenly into the middle distance when Jimin gently squeezes his hand. He comes back to himself with a start and opens his mouth, trying to find an excuse. 

Jimin doesn’t let him bother. 

“Hyung...I don’t regret it. Telling him.” He smiles, steady despite the alcohol. 

“I don’t think you’ll regret it, either.”

Namjoon has made a decision. 

Like most of his big decisions, it comes after an extended period of contemplation. Namjoon values this about himself - he rarely makes sudden, in-the-moment choices. And this - this one might be the biggest decision of his life after joining Bangtan in the first place. 

He’s going to tell Seokjin how he feels.  

It’s not fair to hide it, as a leader or as a member of the group. If Jimin and Jungkook were mature enough to not only confess, but decide to actually date, surely he should be too.

But then...Namjoon is the leader. He has a responsibility to hold the group together, and they’re coming up on something big. Something that will either launch them to heights they’d never imagined, or send them back to the days of hoping somebody else cancelled just to get a slot on MusicCore. 

Fuck. 

No, he’s going to tell Seokjin. He owes it to him. And Namjoon has never known Jimin to misread a situation like this one. He has some kind of sixth sense where the members are concerned, an ability to tell who or what they need with little more than a glance. And Jimin said that Seokjin looks at him the same way that Jimin himself has looked at Jungkook for over a year now. Namjoon has to trust that, that and his own heart.   

So, he’s going to tell him. The next free moment Namjoon has, he’s going to sit down, and make a plan, and execute it.

Namjoon sits down, and he makes a plan, and he does not execute it. 

He's been all but vibrating with the need to blurt out his confession. It’s the way he works - it might take a long time to reach a decision, but when he does, Namjoon wants to implement it immediately. Songwriting, life decisions, new releases - it’s always the same. Waiting makes it feel like the thoughts might slip away, like he might make one wrong move and lose his chance altogether. 

Unfortunately, life tends to get in the way of personal desires, especially when you’re an idol. 

In dance practice, Namjoon stumbles because his eyes just happen to flick over to Seokjin in the mirror at the exact moment he pushes his sweaty hair back off of his face and looks like a god while doing so. Namjoon's knee hits the ground hard, and he shouts in pain at the same time that Jimin shouts in frustration at having to stop again. 

“Sorry, sorry guys,” Namjoon winces and staggers back to his feet, intent on not slowing everyone down, only to flush embarrassingly when Seokjin’s hand rests gently on his low back.

The heat of Seokjin’s hand through his damp tank top, the feeling of him leaning in close, the unspoken concern - it’s all too much for Namjoon. He’s bursting with his carefully constructed speech, with the knowledge that after a few simple words all his uncertainty will be over. 

The same feeling crops up again and again, reducing Namjoon to shy stammers and awkward avoidance every time Seokjin approaches him for any reason. He needs to get this off his chest, or he’s never going to make it to comeback. 

And Seokjin is not exactly making things easy. Surely, Namjoon thinks, he can’t be imagining it. It’s as if Seokjin can sense his nervousness, or his attraction. It seems as though every time Namjoon turns around, Seokjin is there, with a joke or a comforting shoulder rub or a casual comment that he’s made extra kimchi bokkeumbap for anyone that wants it (even though the only person who hasn’t eaten yet that day is Namjoon).

Or has he been like this all along, and Namjoon just more aware now that he’s made the decision to address his feelings? 

Even their grueling extra dance practices feel more fraught. Is Namjoon imagining the way he seems to catch Seokjin’s eye every time he looks up? The way he can sense a gaze on him that's something more than critical? The soft noise Seokjin makes when Namjoon pushes his sweaty hair back and mops his face with the hem of his damp shirt? 

He can’t go on like this. Namjoon’s decision is made, and the lack of a sure answer is driving him mad on top of his many existing stresses. 

It’s that thought that pushes him to where he is now - standing outside Seokjin and Yoongi’s shared room, listening for any indication that Seokjin is inside. Namjoon knows Yoongi is still at the studio - he’d said goodbye to him there less than an hour ago. Namjoon strains to hear as much as he can allow himself without feeling like a total creep, and feels a mixture of relief and terror when he hears someone moving around inside. 

He takes a deep breath. He has to do this. If Jimin’s right, (and Namjoon reminds himself again that he's never known him to be wrong where the members are concerned) then Seokjin reciprocates his feelings, at least in some way. Even if Seokjin only wants something physical, Namjoon can be okay with that.  

Right? 

Of course he can. That would be enough - to have his first time with a man be with the person he trusts most, the person he -  

- loves. 

Actually, Namjoon can’t do this. 

He’s halfway back to his room before he stops short and turns around yet again. Now isn’t the time to give up - the only other people home are Taehyung and Jimin, and they’re occupied playing video games together, yelling and joking so loudly that Namjoon can hear them down the hallway even over his own racing thoughts. Moreover, they both know about the tension between himself and Seokjin, and won’t interfere even if they do notice what’s going on. It’s the perfect opportunity. 

Namjoon pauses again outside Seokjin’s door, hand raised to knock, mouth half open as he tries to figure out exactly what to say first. He rubs his eyes, contacts dry after being in for so long. Maybe he should go and change to his glasses, or swap his shirt again, or do any number of things to prolong the inevitable.  

He’s overthinking, and Seokjin is going to know something is wrong immediately, but Namjoon’s brain is starting to shift into full overdrive and there’s no going back from that. 

He knocks once, and the door flies open as though Seokjin had been standing right behind it. Namjoon rocks forward, surprised, and steady hands come up to catch him. 

Their eyes meet, and Seokjin’s face is full of affection and cautious concern, if also a bit of confusion. Namjoon’s heart lurches. Oh fuck. 

“Hyung, hi. I wanted to- I mean, I- You-” Namjoon trips over the words, suddenly struck dumb by sheer panic. 

He’s seen Seokjin without makeup almost more than he’s seen him with makeup. He’s seen him naked, seen him drunk, hungover, angry, and even crying, despite how hard their eldest tries to hide his hardships from the rest of them. Namjoon has seen Seokjin in every way one person can see another - well, all but one. 

Namjoon forces that thought away as quickly as it arises. 

Seokjin looks...adorable. His hair is fluffed out, freshly blowdried, and he’s wearing a baggy sleep shirt over threadbare sweatpants. Seokjin likes to look good, likes well-made clothes and simple, smart fashion. But Namjoon knows that sometimes when he’s particularly tired he tends to opt for the pajamas he brought from home (three years ago, now) - oversized shirts worn thin by the laundry, and fleecey pants he’s had since high school.  

He looks soft, vulnerable. Like a hyung whose arms Namjoon could fall into without a second thought, like...a boyfriend. Not superstar-in-the-making Bangtan Sonyeondan Jin - just Seokjin hyung, who loves gaming and action dramas and teasing the maknaes. 

He looks like the man Namjoon has fallen in love with. 

He doesn’t realize that he left his sentence unfinished until Seokjin tilts his head and gestures for him to come inside, a hint of concern flickering over his expression. 

“Yoongi isn’t here right now, are you alright, Namjoon-ah?” Seokjin reaches out for him, then pulls his hand back as though he’s thought better of it. 

Namjoon’s heart pounds. What does that mean? Is it shyness? Nervousness? Or does Seokjin not want to give him the wrong idea? 

“What’s up, Namjoon?” Seokjin asks again, moving backwards into the room.  

He hops up onto the bed. 

“Couldn’t sleep? Want to cuddle with hyung?” It's clearly a joke, and Seokjin laughs as he says it - Namjoon isn’t the type to seek anyone out for cuddles, let alone him.  

The dongsaeng most likely to end up in Seokjin’s bed is Jungkook, and he certainly doesn’t ask - just wriggles his way in at 2am and clings to Seokjin like a particularly adorable limpet. They’re all quite used to Jungkook’s refusal to sleep alone, and all equally amenable to his presence. But Namjoon is most assuredly not Jungkook. 

He isn’t sure what motivates him to do it, but instead of laughing along, Namjoon takes another step into the room. 

“Yeah, couldn’t sleep, you know?” he offers with an awkward shrug. “Can I stay with you, hyung?” 

Seokjin looks surprised, but schools his expression fast. “Of course, Joon-ah,” he says, shuffling to one side of his bed and flipping the covers down. 

Suddenly and intensely shy in the face of his own boldness, Namjoon kicks his house slippers off and approaches the bed nervously. He knows he’s blushing. There’s nowhere else to look in the room but at him, so of course Seokjin must see it too. What a mess. 

Namjoon climbs onto the bed without looking at Seokjin, and settles a few inches away from his hyung. 

It’s a mistake. The narrow space between them feels heavy, the air thick with tension.  

Namjoon squirms a bit. Catches himself.

Act normal, he thinks. This isn’t the time to scare him off. 

He pulls his phone out and tries to relax back against Seokjin’s pillows (Seokjin’s pillows! Namjoon’s brain screams). He can’t do it.  

Seokjin is too close. 

The quiet stretches between them. They’re each pretending to be occupied by their own phones, but it’s futile.  

Something has to give. 

“Joon-ah.” Seokjin turns to him at the exact moment Namjoon draws breath to address him. 

They stare at each other for a single charged moment, each waiting for the other to speak. Namjoon stares at Seokjin’s lips. He’s helpless not to - they’re thick and pink and smooth, as smooth as his own. Seokjin must use just as much lip balm as he does, Namjoon thinks wildly, trying to pull his eyes away but feeling like he's held under some kind of spell. 

“Joon-ah…” Seokjin’s tone is different this time, and his eyes are focused not on Namjoon’s eyes, but on his -  

- mouth. 

Namjoon’s brain grinds to a halt. He inhales, once, sharp but quiet. 

And then Seokjin is leaning in, and Seokjin is kissing him. 

His lips are as soft as they look - softer, even. His hand comes up as if on instinct to brush along the line of Namjoon’s jaw. Namjoon can’t move, can't even think. Seokjin’s lips are warm, pillowy against his own, and the few seconds the chaste kiss lasts feel like an eternity. 

When Seokjin pulls back, Namjoon’s eyes open (when had he closed them, anyway?). Seokjin’s ears are dark red, the flush extending down his neck, and he pulls back the hand still lightly touching Namjoon’s face. 

“Was that okay, Namjoon-ah?” 

His voice is deep, and his eyes don’t waver from Namjoon’s despite the faint tremor that’s shaking his entire body. Namjoon can feel the anxiety rolling off him in waves, or maybe that’s just his own stress bouncing off Seokjin and coming right back. 

He opens his mouth to try and speak, and no sound comes out. His mind is all static, thoughts vibrating their way on top of one another until all that’s left is a single chaotic yell. 

“Joon-ah?” Seokjin starts to pull back further, panic flashing in his eyes, and Namjoon suddenly snaps back into his body. 

“No! Yes! Hyung, it’s okay.” A shout becomes a whisper as the significance of what he’s saying settles over him. Of what “it’s okay” means in this context. 

Namjoon swallows hard, and reaches up to caress the back of Seokjin’s head automatically. This part, at least, he knows how to do. 

It’s now or never, isn’t it, Namjoon, he thinks.  

A shout from Jimin, rooms away, suddenly reminds him of where they are. This is home, for better or for worse. It’s Seokjin hyung. Not a stranger in a darkened bar, or a fan backstage at an underground show so many years ago, or even a staff member, shyly pulling him aside after a costume fitting. 

It’s just hyung, Namjoon reminds himself, and he says it. 

“Hyung. I like you. More than I should, more than is - is smart to. But, you know, who can say what’s “smart” in this world, right? Who can say what we’re meant to do or say, we’re only people, doing our best, and I think that you’re just. The - the most amazing person I know, and you deserve to know that, and I really, really like you so much, hyung, you’re just. I lo-”  

Seokjin cuts him off with a kiss before he can ramble any further. Namjoon’s mind wants to latch onto that, wants to follow that anxious thread all the way to it’s root, but he can’t think when Seokjin is kissing him. Everything goes blank, or rather, everything turns up to 11 so fiercely that there’s no distinguishing individual thoughts any more. There’s only a blur, and a voice on top of it all that screams Seokjin, Seokjin, Seokjin, and Namjoon is helpless in the face of it. 

He exhales through his nose and turns, leaning into the kiss and threading his fingers into Seokjin’s soft brown hair. His eyes fall closed again. Seokjin’s hand comes back up to Namjoon’s face, still so hesitant. There’s the sound of blankets shifting, and then Seokjin is leaning in closer, his other hand resting against Namjoon’s cheek. 

Namjoon loses himself in the sensations. Seokjin’s big hands against his face, palms calloused from so many early morning workouts. The familiar curved shape of his fingers. The warmth of his body, closer now, and the puff of his breath when they part for a few brief seconds. Seokjin is being so careful, not pushing for anything more than the gentlest of kisses.

Minutes pass before they separate, and by that time Seokjin has shifted again, swinging one leg over Namjoon’s thigh to straddle it. He doesn’t grind down, careful to keep that limit in place, but the position has him looming over Namjoon in a way that Namjoon can’t help but eagerly respond to. 

“Hyung, more, please,” he whispers, sliding his hands up Seokjin’s sides and finding the shocking narrowness of his waist beneath the billowy t-shirt.  

Seokjin hesitates for a moment, like he knows they should talk first, but Namjoon huffs out a desperate, needy breath. As if he can’t help himself, Seokjin gives in. This time, when their lips meet, Seokjin opens his mouth a bit to let Namjoon feel the warmth and the promise of something more. His tongue darts out to tease Namjoon’s lower lip, and Namjoon moans with anticipation. His hyung knows what he’s doing, and Namjoon does his best to respond in kind.  

There’s something about Seokjin, though, that makes all planned thought impossible. Kissing him like this, there’s no room left to think about technique or past experiences or any of it. It’s like Seokjin’s touch, be it a hand on his shoulder or warm lips on Namjoon’s own, simply makes the chaos of Namjoon’s brain stop. 

Seokjin pulls back and pants for breath, and Namjoon’s eyes flutter open. Seokjin looks so big like this, kneeling over him, shoulders filling up his vision and hard-won abs firm under his hands. Namjoon can only stare, wide-eyed, at the dark red flush to Seokjin’s lips. A flush that he put there. His tongue darts out reflexively, seeking out the taste of Seokjin, hoping for more. 

“Hyung,” he says, voice rough. “Kiss me again.” 

Seokjin does. 

Chapter Text

When Namjoon wakes the next morning, it’s hard to believe that the previous night wasn’t a dream.

Seokjin kissed him. He kissed back.

Seokjin kissed him first.

Namjoon rolls onto his back and sighs up at the ceiling, loud and disbelieving. 

And that’s just about when he realizes that it’s not his ceiling he’s looking at. It’s Seokjin’s.

He’s in Seokjin’s bed.

Namjoon jerks upright, rubbing a hand across his eyes and looking around wildly. Yoongi’s bed is empty, but the sheets are mussed, implying that whatever state he found Namjoon and Seokjin in was deemed innocent enough to sleep in the same room.

And it’s not like it wasn’t innocent, Namjoon hastily reminds himself as the guilt creeps up.

Sure, his life has become a string of barely-controlled boners every time Seokjin flicks his hair out of his eyes in dance practice. Not to mention a lot of late nights trying to pretend the men in his jerkoff fantasies don’t have suspiciously broad shoulders and rosy lips, but. They kept it above the belt last night. Mostly.

As if his body wants to remind him, Namjoon’s morning wood twitches in his loose shorts. He presses his lips together and ignores it.

Last night had been a lot more intense than Namjoon ever thought a night without any actual sex could be. He and Seokjin had kissed for hours, all thought of pulling away to talk through the details long gone. Namjoon had fallen asleep with Seokjin’s breath mingling with his own, their legs intertwined, and Seokjin’s strong arm around his shoulders holding him close.

If their exhaustion hadn’t caught up with them, he doesn’t doubt that they would have moved right from kissing into grinding against each other like teenagers. The tension and depth of feeling between them was built up enough to burst. Namjoon shuts his eyes for a moment, imagining what it would be like, to come with Seokjin’s hand wrapped around his cock. Or with their cocks pressed together, hot and slick between their bodies with no space at all left between them.

Namjoon has just snuck a hand down to palm himself, eyes closed, when there’s a muffled grunt from beside him.

His eyes open wide, body going stiff, as he realizes what should have been obvious the moment he awakened and realized where he was - Seokjin is still in bed with him .

Oh, god, Seokjin is still in bed with him, warm against his back, and Namjoon is lying here fully hard. He jerks his hand up and tries to be still, holding his breath to see if Seokjin has woken up fully or was just shifting around.

“Joon-ah?” Seokjin’s voice is raspy and heavy with sleep, and to Namjoon’s embarrassment it sets off a whole new stirring in his groin.

“Mm, morning hyung,” Namjoon answers, trying to keep his voice level. 

There’s no reason to panic, Namjoon reminds himself, it’s just Seokjin for fuck’s sake. It’s not as though they’ve never slept in the same bed before! Hell, backstage at some filming locations they pile onto a single couch three-deep, just to catch a few precious minutes of sleep. But then again, Namjoon has never slept in the same bed as another member right after confessing his deeply-held feelings and then spending half the night making out with them.

His eyes dart over to Yoongi’s bed anxiously, as if he could have somehow appeared there in the past minute. It remains empty.

The mattress shifts behind him, and Namjoon tries to relax, hoping that Seokjin doesn’t take his stiffness as disinterest - or worse, regret.

“Well. That happened.” Seokjin says with forced casualness.

Namjoon makes a humming noise in response, too nervous to muster anything more than that.

“Namjoon-ah, come here.”

Namjoon turns right away, as though doing what Seokjin asks him to is as inevitable as breathing. Seokjin tangles their legs together, and Namjoon flinches, knowing there’s no way his morning wood will go unnoticed. But Seokjin ignores it for the moment, focusing instead on Namjoon’s face. He telegraphs his movements carefully, as if Namjoon might spook away, and brings a hand up to cup his jaw. For a moment, they stare at each other, Namjoon somehow unable to move.

When Seokjin dips his head the few inches necessary, Namjoon lets his eyes fall closed and his lips part. The kiss is slow and gentle, careful. When Seokjin pulls back, he sighs with what sounds like relief. It’s as if he thought that at the moment their lips met, Namjoon might simply disappear. 

“Still okay?” It’s Namjoon who speaks this time, and he can’t bring himself to meet Seokjin’s eyes as he asks.

The possibility of the answer being “no” is something he’d steeled himself for, but Namjoon hadn’t realized until this moment exactly how unprepared he was for that possibility. Only yesterday it seemed like something he could accept, internalize, and move on from. Calm, logical, a good leader who understands that sometimes not everyone can get their way.

Now, the idea of Seokjin saying “no” is like a knife in his chest. Not even a knife, but a lance, a whole spear piercing right through him and leaving Namjoon to either bleed out slowly or tear the whole thing out at once, and his heart along with it.

“Namjoon-ah…” Seokjin begins, and Namjoon stops breathing. “It’s dangerous.”

Namjoon nods minutely. He’s right. It’s the most dangerous thing they’ve ever done.

Seokjin squeezes his eyes shut for a moment. Namjoon studies his face: the high edges of his cheekbones, not quite hidden under the round softness of his cheeks. The tension in his jaw, the way it slopes elegantly into his strong neck. The unblemished skin and soft pink lips, which are trembling.

Seokjin’s eyes open again, and what Namjoon sees there is raw in a way that Seokjin has never shown him before.

“It’s too dangerous. And you know that - I’m not going to pretend you haven’t thought this through a thousand times, I know you.” Seokjin’s face softens minutely on the last few words. He pauses, though, and ice floods through Namjoon’s veins. “If it was just me, I’d let this go,” he starts.

And that’s a cut all it’s own. Like Seokjin is just doing this for him - it feels like a confirmation that his own feelings aren’t anywhere close to Namjoon’s, that he could put it aside and forget.

Then again, isn’t that exactly what Namjoon had told himself he would do?

Seokjin continues, and it forces Namjoon to focus.

“But it’s not just me, is it?”

Namjoon sucks in a shallow breath and swallows hard, mouth and throat dry.

“It’s not, hyung.” Namjoon’s own voice sounds foreign to him, like he’s drifting somewhere outside his body and watching this all play out.

“If it’s not just me, Namjoon-ah…” Seokjin trails off, as if he’s afraid that saying it out loud will make it real.

Trying this really would be the most dangerous thing they’ve ever done.

Namjoon doesn’t dare to breathe. He’s captive under Seokjin’s gaze. They stare at each other, Namjoon still as stone and Seokjin trembling faintly, until suddenly his face changes. It’s like a veneer falls away. All at once Seokjin’s eyes are bright with what looks like something close to anger. His face is flushed and all the muscles in his neck bulge. 

“God, for once in my fucking life, I’ll do what I want.” And Seokjin grabs Namjoon’s face with both hands and presses their mouths together like he’ll never get another chance.

Namjoon surges against him instinctively, kneeling up and grabbing at Seokjin’s broad shoulders with both hands. He licks into Seokjin’s mouth, the frantic energy of the kiss washing over him and dragging him into the whirlwind. Their bodies press together, head to hip, and Namjoon exhales sharply through his nose. He sucks on Seokjin’s lower lip and shoves his thigh against Seokjin’s groin, urging him to grind. They pant into each others’ mouths and refuse to separate, desperate not to pause for even a moment lest the world rush in and try to pry them apart.

Seokjin’s hands move to cup the back of Namjoon’s head, and then one drags down his back to squeeze his hip. He curls his hands into Seokjin’s sleep shirt and tries to tug him closer, but there’s no space left between them. The grip on his hip is electrifying. Seokjin’s hand is so much bigger than a girls’. His mouth is soft and wet and warm, and Namjoon wants to kiss him forever. Everything smells like Seokjin, like his fresh cologne and his slept-in bedsheets and his soft brown hair. Namjoon opens his mouth to Seokjin’s tongue and lets himself be swept away.

It’s not until Seokjin moans into the kiss that Namjoon realizes he’s still hard - in fact, they’re both hard. Seokjin has been grinding against his thigh, and Namjoon’s morning wood is back with a vengeance after the terrifying attempt at conversation they’d had.

“Hyung, hyung, I - “ Namjoon is embarrassed to find himself whining, so desperate for more that he can’t get a full sentence out.

“Hyung wants you so much, Namjoonie,” Seokjin breathes against his mouth, pressing kisses along the seam of his lips before diving back in.

Namjoon’s hands drop to Seokjin’s hips, and he takes in the way he feels so different than the partners he’s used to. It’s thrilling. He flexes his fingers, digs his thumbs into the dip below Seokjin’s jutting hipbones, and grins at the soft gasp that wins him. Seokjin retaliates by tugging at the hairs at the base of Namjoon’s skull, and it both feels so good and is so unexpected that Namjoon whimpers.

His hips kick forward in response as well, and it’s like they both realize the potential there at the same time. Suddenly they’re grinding furiously, chasing the friction and the closeness and the heat. Namjoon tilts his head and seals their mouths back together, arousal shooting through him like electricity as he feels Seokjin’s hard cock against his flexed thigh. This is incredible, is every bit as hot as Namjoon always dreamed it would be, every bit as desperate and dirty and frantic.

Seokjin’s hand pulls back suddenly, and Namjoon wants to whine until he realizes why.

“Okay, Joon?” Seokjin asks, hand hooked into the waistband of Namjoon’s basketball shorts.

“Yes, yes, please!” Namjoon trips over the words in his rush to get them out, wanting it so badly that he doesn’t even pause to be embarrassed at saying please like that so soon.

Seokjin pushes both their shorts down just low enough to get their cocks out. The feeling of Seokjin’s length against his own is so good that Namjoon breaks their kiss just to swear. It’s the first time he’s ever felt another man like this, the first time he's brought all those fantasies to life, and it’s with Seokjin. Namjoon is the luckiest person alive. 

Seokjin’s hand can’t quite close around the both of them, and oh fuck, Seokjin is as big as Namjoon is. He shudders, full-bodied, and rocks his hips. Their cocks slide together and both of them moan, and then they’re kissing again and every sound either of them makes after that is devoured.  

It’s not enough friction, but at the same time exactly the right amount. Seokjin’s cock is so hard, the skin velvety smooth, and their precome combines to ease the movement of his hand. Before long the two of them are simply panting into each other’s mouths, Namjoon pulling Seokjin’s lower lip into his mouth and sucking. He grazes his teeth over it gently and Seokjin’s fist tightens around them, jerking faster. 

Namjoon thrusts up, and Seokjin mimics the movement, his fingers rubbing over Namjoon’s head, toying with the foreskin. Namjoon moans brokently and thrusts harder, and then they’re just rutting against each other without rhythm or finesse. Namjoon pulls away from the kiss just to look down, to see what they look like together like this. 

Fuck, he’s done for. It’s obscene, mouthwatering, the way his own darker cock looks pressed up against Seokjin’s. His cockhead is almost purple, but Seokjin’s is wider and wetter. They’re both long and thick, and wow, Namjoon’s watched a lot of porn but none of it has been as hot as this.

Namjoon closes his eyes and drops his head against Seokjin’s shoulder. He tastes a little like salt and a lot like Seokjin, and fuck does Namjoon love it. They move together, sweaty and frantic and desperate to come. 

He pants, and Seokjin groans, and they grind and thrust until Seokjin twists his hand just right. Namjoon comes hard, pumping all over Seokjin’s hand and both their cocks. The orgasm rips through him like kindling going up in flames, and makes him shout. But Seokjin doesn’t stop. He uses Namjoon’s come as lube to stroke himself faster and rougher, until he’s coming, too. It’s a mess between them, all come and sweat, and the thought flashes across Namjoon’s mind that he wants to taste it. 

They shudder together, bodies pressed close, come dripping down and staining the fabric of their pants. Seokjin is panting, and he kisses Namjoon one more time before pulling away. They look at each other for a moment, come wet on both their bellies and cocks slowly softening, their lips swollen and pink. Seokjin reaches out without looking away to grab a handful of tissues for them both, which Namjoon finds stupidly hot. Namjoon cleans himself up as best he can and grimaces as he pulls his shorts back up and over his wet, sensitive cock. He forgets about being gross a second later, though, because Seokjin is reaching for him and rolling them over together.

Seokjin curls up on his side, tugging Namjoon’s arm over his middle so that they’re spooned together with Namjoon on the outside. He sighs heavily, but it doesn’t sound stressed - it’s a post-orgasm sigh, one of pleasure and relief and fatigue. Namjoon shares the sentiment. 

He settles with his face pressed to Seokjin’s upper back. He thinks to himself that if he stretched up to kiss the back of Seokjin’s neck right now, it wouldn’t even be weird, and that seems so surreal that Namjoon has to shake his head a little. He’s in Seokjin’s bed. They kissed last night, and they kissed this morning, and they got off together, and they said - 

“Can we try it, hyung?” Namjoon asks against the soft cotton of Seokjin’s shirt. “Being...together?”

Seokjin is still for a moment before he turns over in Namjoon’s arms. 

Namjoon closes his eyes, suddenly terrified. 

A second later he finds his face pressed to Seokjin’s chest and Seokjin’s chin heavy on the top of his head. He’s being held tightly, so tightly. Seokjin breathes out hard and it ruffles Namjoon’s hair.

“Yeah, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin whispers. “We can.”

Dating Seokjin turns out to be not nearly as complicated as Namjoon had feared it might be - at least so far. He isn’t sure if it's more a result of them fitting together naturally, the fact that their lives are already scheduled to the minute, or the possibility that they’d already kind of been dating and he had no idea the entire time, and he’s not sure he wants to know the answer. 

There’s one issue, though, that Namjoon can’t seem to shake. Honestly, he doesn’t know why he expected anything other than this outcome. He knows himself. He knows that his general level of horny is at least twice that of the general population. And he knows how he feels about Seokjin, and about Seokjin’s body. It probably should have been obvious that the prospect of trying a real relationship with Seokjin combined with Namjoon’s worryingly horny nature would result in… this. 

“This” being an inability to focus on anything that isn’t the idea of having sex with Seokjin. It’s as though admitting and accepting his attraction to Seokjin opened the floodgates, and now the only thing he can think of is Seokjin’s body, and Seokjin’s voice when it’s heavy with arousal, and Seokjin’s cock. 

Telling the other boys, surprisingly, wasn’t a problem at all - mainly because they appeared to have already known. The only person who displayed any sort of shock was Jungkook, and even that was so blatantly staged that Namjoon struggled to respond believably. He’d glared at Jimin for all of one second, sure that he must have told. But Jimin’s face turned hurt the moment Namjoon flexed his jaw and squinted, which told him that it truly wasn’t deliberate (and also told him that if he didn’t make a very quick apology he was going to have a Jungkook-sized problem on his hands). 

Apparently, according to Hoseok, they really were that obvious.

“Are you sure? Nobody mentioned anything?” Namjoon asks, embarrassed.

“Ah, our Namjoonie..." Hoseok spins a full circle in his studio chair, eyes on the ceiling. "Seokjin hyung doesn’t interact with anyone the way he does with you.” Hoseok shifts uncomfortably, looking at Namjoon for a moment with something like pity before his eyes dart away again.

He fidgets with his phone and the hem of his shorts. But Namjoon needs to know this.

“Hobah, tell me the truth. As my friend. Did all of you know we had… that we wanted to… be together? To, uh, date? Each other?” Namjoon closes his eyes against the intense embarrassment. It’s not exactly like him to talk around the topic of sex or romance, but this is different. It’s about one of them.

Hoseok exhales sharply, a hint of a laugh in his tone blended with the fond exasperation. “Yes, Joon! It wasn’t hard to see. We, uh.” He pauses, visibly awkward. “We care about you. So it wasn’t really a big deal. So, uh, congrats!” 

Hoseok’s body language shifts abruptly into something that looks a lot more comfortable. He leers, playful, and rubs a hand up one of his own thighs suggestively. “About time you got properly laid anyway, right?” 

Namjoon’s mouth drops open, but he can’t exactly deny it. He and Hoseok have spent many an hour bemoaning their lack of action to one another. It’s easier to talk to Hoseok about this than any of the other members - he’s not a more experienced hyung, like Yoongi, or worse, a more experienced dongsaeng. 

Although Hoseok doesn’t exactly know his secret.

“Don’t worry,” Namjoon tries. “We’ll keep it down when you’re all home”. He cringes the moment he says it, but Hoseok jumps on the joke and cackles.

He slaps Namjoon on the back on his way out, and despite his discomfort with addressing the situation head-on, Namjoon feels the sincerity there.

Getting that confirmation from Hoseok makes it real, somehow. Hoseok is alternately the most or least serious member of Bangtan, but when he and Namjoon do speak frankly (as they can only with each other), Namjoon takes his words to heart. 

So, the members know, and they seem more relieved than anything else. Namjoon has spent three days evading a heart-to-heart with Jimin because he wants to think things through alone first, but he knows his time is ticking. Jimin doesn’t stand for being ignored.

It’s just that Namjoon doesn’t want to go to his dongsaeng, who he knows very well is having a lot of extremely fulfilling sex (Jungkook isn’t exactly quiet), and admit that he and Seokjin still haven’t done anything beyond that one morning of frantic touching and groping. 

It’s not for lack of trying - he’s found himself pinned to the practice room wall with a firm thigh between his legs and Seokjin’s mouth on his more times than is decent. It’s just that they haven’t had the time to spend more than a few hours of exhausted sleep together, tangled in each others’ arms. Idol life is nothing if not exhausting, and all of Bangtan is exactly that: exhausted. 

Just the other night, Seokjin had caught Namjoon stumbling half-asleep to his bedroom, and tugged him into his and Yoongi’s room instead. Yoongi wasn’t there, evidenced by the sound of the shower still hissing down the hall, and Seokjin didn’t speak. He only pulled Namjoon closer, pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, and guided him into bed. 

Namjoon had entertained the idea of maybe trying for some quick grinding, or a handjob beneath the covers before Yoongi got back, but Seokjin clearly had other plans. Those plans turned out to be sleeping and only sleeping, because he manhandled Namjoon onto one side of the bed (hot) and pinned him down with one strong arm and both legs (also hot), and then… immediately went to sleep. (To be fair, Namjoon was himself asleep before Yoongi even made it back to the room). 

Three weeks of “dating” pass before they have another afternoon alone together.

Three weeks of nervous, hidden kisses. Of cautious touches and blushing and carefully guarded affection. Of private dance practices where neither of them has to hide their admiration any more, or the way they stare at one another in the mirror (to the chagrin of their NDA-bound choreography team, who really already had their hands plenty full with Jimin and Jungkook).

Those glances and stolen kisses have done nothing to keep Namjoon’s libido under control. The lyrics he’s writing in the studio are trending a lot sexier than they ever had before he had a real, actual boyfriend.

Not that he’s actually said the word “boyfriend” out loud. That’s real in a way that Namjoon’s a little afraid of. Not to mention his secret, the long-buried insecurity that he’s only confessed to Taehyung so far.

He can’t shake off the fear, like if he tells Seokjin exactly what he wants, his inexperience will blare out like a siren. Like his hyung will suddenly realize he’s dating plain old Kim Namjoon and not Rap Monster.

The worry eats at him.

Hoseok knocks on the door of Mon Studio late Friday night with two bottles of soju, a collection of lyric ideas, and his laptop. They relax together, work turning to casual conversation, and Namjoon talks himself in circles until he finally spits out his concern.

“Don’t be an idiot, Namjoon-ah,” Hoseok says point-blank. “Hyung isn’t that type of person. Stop thinking so hard and just-” Hoseok waves his hand absently in the air. “Act on your feelings, or whatever.” 

He makes a face as he says the words, and Namjoon snorts.

“Just jump him! We have half the morning off on Sunday! I’ll take the kids out.” Hoseok pulls out his phone and sends a text, probably to Jimin, promising food after practice tomorrow.

This is all moving a bit fast for Namjoon, but honestly, he’s getting pretty fucking desperate and Hoseok has never been shy where sex is concerned.

Comeback is closer than ever, he and Yoongi are already playing around with beats for the next album, and Namjoon is actually becoming pretty confident in the Run choreography after so much practice. Knowing that Seokjin returns his feelings, or is at least willing to try to make this work, is a huge weight off his mind. But Namjoon is still wound tight, stress setting rigid in his muscles and weighing heavy on his mind.

He wants...well, he wants to get fucked. It’s maybe not the best idea right now, when they’re dancing for hours every day and doing photoshoots and filming variety episodes, but Namjoon is tired of being responsible. He’s tired of holding back from what he wants because it’s what he should do - he shouldn’t have confessed to Seokjin, and that worked out well, so why should he hesitate this time?

It’s just a little (or a lot) more vulnerable. Opening himself up like that feels in some ways harder than that evening a few weeks ago when he stood outside Seokjin’s door.

It seems Hoseok has gone ahead and made that decision for him, though, because a minute later Namjoon is being informed that all three maknaes will be out eating and drinking on Hoseok’s dime tomorrow, so he’d better take advantage of the arrangement.

In the morning Hoseok sends him a frankly unnecessary number of suggestive eyebrow wiggles across the room. He elbows him in the car on the way to practice even though Namjoon isn’t even awake yet, and makes lewd gestures that Namjoon is pretty sure at least half the other members have picked up on. Seokjin studiously ignores it all, but his ears turn red and he refuses to catch Namjoon’s eye. 

If this is really going to happen, Namjoon will have to plan for it. But the last thing Namjoon wants to do is approach Yoongi about clearing out of his own room so that Namjoon can fuck his roommate. As it turns out, though, he doesn’t have to. Hoseok uses his...Hoseok-privileges to somehow communicate this to Yoongi in a way that doesn’t make him send Namjoon a dirty look - and frankly, Namjoon is grateful.

Hours pass as they get swept up in the nuts and bolts work of planning their stage for the MMAs in a few weeks, and before Namjoon realizes it, it’s after midnight. They’re actually, blissfully free. More than three consecutive hours off this close to a comeback and awards season is so rare as to practically be a myth, and all of them suspect that it has more to do with a pre existing commitment of their management team rather than mercy for the group themselves. No matter what the cause is, though, the reality is that they have eight beautiful hours free before work tomorrow morning. And of course, rather than sleeping, most of the members are more than happy to spend it going out and sneaking in a few beers and some ramyun on the side while they still can. 

Namjoon feels a little guilty about relegating Yoongi to the studio, or wherever Hoseok convinced him to go, but it turns out that he needn’t have worried. When Namjoon gets out of the shower, having cleaned up very thoroughly (he’s done his research, of course - real research and not just porn) and heads down the hallway, he realizes that Yoongi apparently only cares that he’s not in the same room as whatever goes on between Namjoon and Seokjin tonight.

The door to Jimin and Hoseok’s room is ajar, and Yoongi looks perfectly at home fast asleep in Hoseok’s bed. His headphones are in with the cord trailing up from the floor where his phone lays face down, and there’s an empty cup ramyun container on the floor next to it that Hoseok is going to hate. He looks as if he doesn’t plan to wake up until they’re called to the cars tomorrow morning. It’s a sight that’s quintessentially Yoongi. 

Namjoon pulls the door shut a little more loudly than he should, testing, but there’s no sound of stirring from in the room. None of them are really light sleepers any more - it’s not exactly a trait that’s compatible with idol life.

Namjoon shakes his head. He’s standing outside Seokjin’s door again, thinking about their sleeping habits to distract himself, because he’s stupidly, helplessly nervous about something as simple as having sex. With his boyfriend. His hyung. His Seokjin.

Namjoon tugs anxiously on the hem of his t-shirt. It fits him well, and he chose it on purpose to impress Seokjin. Even though Seokjin has seen him in nothing but one of Jungkook’s white tees on backwards and a pair of Yoongi’s underwear, has seen him frantically looking for his glasses because they were propped up on his shit-ugly perm and he hadn’t noticed, has seen him too-drunk and puking in the shower because he went out with a group of hyungs he couldn’t keep up with — even though Seokjin has seen him in every possible unflattering circumstance, he’s still nervous. He wants Seokjin to look at him and think “hot”. Desirable. Sexy. Not just dorky, awkward Namjoon with his long limbs and his coke-bottle glasses and his brittle bleach-dried hair.

Seokjin opens the door.

Namjoon freezes, mouth slightly open. He wants to say something casual or lean into Seokjin’s space for a kiss because he can do that now, but he can’t seem to move.

Seokjin looks incredible. His brown hair is smooth and pretty, like it’s been styled, even though Namjoon knows he showered at the studio earlier after practice. His lips are distinctly pink tinted, and he’s wearing a pair of joggers that hug his thighs perfectly (and don’t do anything to hide his lack of underwear).

It’s all for Namjoon, and that knowledge makes his throat go dry and his eyes widen.

“Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin almost sighs.

He pulls him inside, shutting the door firmly and locking it even though the only other person in the house is fast asleep.

They look at each other for a long moment, and Namjoon can see Seokjin push himself to speak. He knows this is hard for him - Seokjin keeps his feelings close to the chest at the best of times. Namjoon licks his lips unconsciously, only noticing that he’s doing it when Seokjin’s eyes follow the movement.

Namjoon starts to consider that maybe Seokjin has been just as worked up and eager for this moment as he has been. The thought makes him flush and starts a stirring in his gut that he doesn’t want to ignore. The thrill of knowing that he doesn’t have to any more sweeps over him, and without thinking, Namjoon steps forward and cups a hand around the back of Seokjin’s neck. 

The kiss isn’t anything particularly dirty, but it makes Seokjin sigh anyway, and his hands land on Namjoon’s lower back. When they part again, Seokjin squeezes Namjoon’s hip with one hand, and he looks - almost predatory. Namjoon’s cock jerks. He wonders why in hell he thought he should put jeans on after his shower.

Then again, maybe it was a good call, because Seokjin is looking him up and down with that same hungry gaze. He drinks Namjoon in as if he’d wanted to stare like this all day but hadn’t dared.

“Your hair looks good, Namjoon-ah.” 

It’s the same thing he’d said yesterday, when Namjoon got back from the stylist with a fresh bleach-job. Then, it was shouted in passing.

Now, it’s a whisper, spoken directly into Namjoon’s ear while one hand rubs over the newly buzzed area of his scalp. Namjoon shivers, and leans into it when Seokjin begins to kiss his neck, teeth skimming his earring on the way down. 

Apparently, they are very much on the same page about tonight. 

Seokjin’s mouth is hot, a searing point of attention on Namjoon’s body. He can feel the thickness of Seokjin’s lips and the way the tinted gloss leaves a thin path along his skin. His breath catches. It’s embarrassing - he’s done this before, done more than this. Namjoon has kissed, has nibbled marks into his partners’ skin, has felt the vibrations of their gasps through his lips.

But never with Seokjin. Never with his hyung, never with the person he trusts most in the world.

With Seokjin, Namjoon is finding, everything is different.

Namjoon’s hands flutter, not sure if he should grab hold of Seokjin’s shirt or press flat against the firmness of his back. He settles for splaying his palms out wide and feeling the heat of Seokjin’s body.

“Look at me, Joon-ah,” Seokjin says, voice gentle but unmistakably firm.

Namjoon looks.

Whatever it is that Seokjin sees in his eyes, though, makes him pull away. Seokjin takes a step backwards into the room, and Namjoon feels all his uncertainty and embarrassment flood the space between them.

“No, hyung, don’t,” he follows Seokjin without thinking and reaches out. 

Namjoon grabs him with both hands and presses their mouths together, driven by the fear that if he doesn’t do it right now, the tension between them might snap and be gone forever. Like Seokjin will change his mind about everything and tell Namjoon to go, that they need to wait, or worse, that he’s not interested any more.

It’s like a dam breaking. Seokjin surges against him, body suddenly touching Namjoon’s from head to toe. Namjoon’s back hits the door with a dull thud, and a moan bursts out of him, so sudden and loud that it shocks them both. He parts his lips to speak, to make an excuse, but Seokjin swallows the words, breathing hard through his nose and kissing Namjoon hungrily. 

“Mmph…!”

Pleasure spikes through Namjoon’s entire body and he sags against the door, giving in to the sensation of being claimed, being devoured. Seokjin’s long fingers wrap around his biceps, pinning him there, and his thigh presses up between Namjoon’s legs in a show of dominance that - well, it isn’t that Namjoon hadn’t expected it. He’d fantasized about this dozens of times by now. Imagined what it would be like to let himself be taken like that, to be pushed around and controlled in bed. To follow orders. But the Seokjin hyung of his late-night fantasies and the real-life Seokjin hyung in front of him are two different men entirely, and Namjoon finds that he likes the real-life option much better.

Seokjin pulls back from Namjoon’s lips, a thin strand of saliva connecting them. Namjoon’s breath comes in short, fast gasps, chest rising and falling. His eyes are wide and glazed over with arousal. He looks up at Seokjin, and Seokjin looks back.

“Tell hyung what you want, Namjoon,” Seokjin purrs, voice low and sexy and beautifully, reassuringly confident.

Everything, Namjoon thinks. Fuck me, blow me, touch me, let me touch you. He fumbles for the words, wishing under the whirring panic that he’d planned out something seductive to say beforehand.

A flicker of worry passes across Seokjin’s face, and then it’s gone again, as if he’s decided on how he wants to play this. Namjoon doesn’t like that. He doesn’t want their first time together to be a play. As much as he likes this dominant side of Seokjin, if it’s not genuine, it isn’t what Namjoon wants.

“Don’t do that, hyung,” he blurts out. 

Seokjin pulls back, startled. The surprise is genuine, but it only lasts a moment before he turns and he gently leads Namjoon towards the bed by the hand.

“Namjoon-ah, we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to,” Seokjin starts, but Namjoon must look horrified because he changes tactics again right away. “Unless you want to lead?”

He shuffles backwards onto the bed, eyes kind and expression cautious. Leaning back on his elbows, Seokjin tilts his head in a clear invitation for Namjoon to crawl on top of him. This isn’t really what Namjoon wants either, but he’s having a hard time resisting the temptation spread out right in front of him.

He places a knee on either side of Seokjin’s hips and leans down to kiss him, one hand cupping his cheek and the other braced on the bed above his shoulder. It’s a familiar position. Namjoon has done this with girls, has pinned them to the bed and kissed hard and dirty.

That isn’t what he wants.

Seokjin hums into his mouth, encouraging, and threads one hand into Namjoon’s hair. Namjoon can feel him holding back, giving space for Namjoon to take control. And that doesn’t feel bad - it’s still arousing, still Seokjin, but…

Namjoon breaks the kiss, licks his lips and tastes Seokjin there. His breath is minty, like he’d been anxious too and was also getting ready ever since they got home. The image of Seokjin hovering in the bathroom and swilling mouthwash just for Namjoon’s sake sends warmth spilling out all through his body.

“Hyung, I don’t want to.” Namjoon says, too loud for the centimeters of space between them.

Seokjin’s eyes don’t leave his. They’re steady, and trusting. “Don’t want to what, Namjoon-ah?”

“I don’t want to - to lead.” Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, embarrassed. “And I don’t want to disappoint you.”

He keeps his eyes closed as Seokjin cups his face in both hands and pulls him down for another kiss, this one falling lightly just where the bridge of his nose slopes into his forehead.

“You can’t disappoint me, Namjoon,” Seokjin says quietly.

Something inside of Namjoon feels like it gives way. He buries his face in Seokjin’s neck and kisses his throat, over and over across firm muscle until he’s hidden safely in the dip of Seokjin’s shoulder.

“I want you to fuck me, hyung, please.” Namjoon whispers, not so much a confession as a plea.

He can feel Seokjin’s jaw move as he smiles. Seokjin’s hands stroke down over his body, slow and deliberate, fingertips just barely brushing under the hem of Namjoon’s t-shirt. One hand cups the back of his head again, massaging over the buzzed hair, and Namjoon can’t help but melt under the touch. The other rests on his hip, gently guiding him off of Seokjin and onto his side, and then his back on the bed. Namjoon pushes up into the scalp massage like a cat, and Seokjin makes a sound suspiciously like a coo. 

Namjoon slits his eyes open, and almost pouts before the worry that he’ll look stupid catches up with him. Seokjin doesn’t miss it, though, and the way he smiles makes Namjoon swallow hard.

“Hyung,” he starts, but Seokjin cuts him off.

“Hyung’s got you.” He sits up straight astride Namjoon’s hips and strips his shirt off. “I’ve got you, baby.”

Namjoon can’t help the soft sound that escapes him at the endearment, or the way his mouth drops open a little at the sight of Seokjin on top of him. He’s gorgeous, and from this angle he looks broader and more muscular than ever. Namjoon feels small in a way he doesn’t often around their bandmates — even Jungkook, for all his strength, is still built petite.

When Seokjin kisses him this time, there’s no mistaking who’s in control. Namjoon feels taken, feels like he’s on a ride there’s no getting off from. And this - this is what he wants.

Namjoon arches into the kiss. He reaches up and holds Seokjin by the shoulders, squeezing in a way that he would have been afraid to with anyone else. Namjoon opens his mouth and moans, focusing on the sensation of Seokjin’s tongue against his own and Seokjin’s teeth brushing his lip. He rolls his hips down against Namjoon’s and it calls back a memory of the only other time they were together like this. 

“Hyung, more,” Namjoon murmurs in the brief seconds their lips are separated. He can feel his nerves slipping away the longer they lie here like this, just kissing. 

There’s no pressure to move further. Seokjin is so palpably in control of everything that’s happening, and he exudes nothing but pure contentment at the idea of lying here for hours and kissing Namjoon within an inch of his life. Namjoon drags his hands from Seokjin’s shoulders down to cup his ass, and when he squeezes appreciatively Seokjin groans. It’s like a reward, Seokjin’s responsiveness. His normally reserved hyung allowing him to see something from behind the veil.

As if he can sense Namjoon’s thoughts, Seokjin speaks again, quietly against his lips. “I’m going to take my time with you, Namjoon-ah.”

A wave of heat rolls through Namjoon at those words. This is so much hotter than he’d ever imagined. Seokjin is effortlessly dominant, and better still, there’s no sense at all of it being an act, or that he doesn’t mean every word he’s saying. Their hips press together, and they sigh into each others’ mouths. It feels good, but not too intense, arousing but not overwhelming.

Namjoon almost always second guesses himself, but right now he feels confident that letting himself go with the flow was the right decision. So for the first time, Namjoon doesn’t stifle his gasp.

Seokjin hums into his mouth approvingly, and it feels almost like a purr. He drags his lips down Namjoon’s neck, nipping lightly, enough to send a spark of sensation down his spine but not enough to mark. There will be no marks, not tonight, probably not until after comeback promotions end. Namjoon wonders if Seokjin likes to leave marks, if he likes to lay a claim on his partners. With a thrill, he realizes that he’s going to get to find out.

Namjoon squirms under the attention. His neck has always been particularly sensitive, although how Seokjin knew that he isn’t sure. Maybe it’s all the times the maknaes have teased him, all of Jimin’s daring little touches and pinches. The fact that Seokjin noticed, that he catalogued that knowledge away, maybe hoping for a night like this one - that thought makes Namjoon’s hips twitch and his breath catch. 

Seokjin licks and sucks until Namjoon is panting and his hips are jerking up over and over, uncontrolled. He’s got one hand tangled up in Seokjin’s discarded shirt, stretching out the fabric, and the other still squeezing at the firmness of his ass. He groans at the loss when Seokjin sits up.

When it turns out that Seokjin was only moving in order to help get Namjoon’s jeans off, though, he rushes to help. He can feel sweat starting to prickle at his hairline, over his chest, down between his legs, and he’s pleased to see that Seokjin looks just as affected. When Namjoon presses his hips up against Seokjin in order to shimmy out of his jeans, he encounters some very clear proof of that.

Seokjin’s cock looks even bigger than Namjoon remembered, hard and obvious through the fabric of his joggers. Namjoon swallows hard, suddenly wanting nothing more than to push Seokjin down onto his back and mouth his way along that outline until his hyung is begging for more.

That doesn’t seem to be part of Seokjin’s plan, though he does look appreciatively at Namjoon’s mouth.

“Want to take your shirt off for me, Joon-ah?”

Namjoon’s hands go to tug his shirt off, obeying automatically, before shyness catches up to him. He doesn’t exactly have a body like Seokjin’s, as much as he’s been feeling proud of how lean he’s been getting in advance of comeback.

Seokjin doesn’t give him time to dwell on that, though. He telegraphs his movements carefully, but his tone brooks absolutely no argument when he crosses his arms and speaks again.

“Show hyung, Joon-ah.” It’s not a question, and Namjoon’s cock twitches in his underwear.

He’s tossing the shirt onto the floor almost before he realizes it. The understanding of just how much he likes taking orders like this hits Namjoon all at once, and he gasps.

As if he can see the nervousness flooding back in, Seokjin takes back over. He reaches down, slow and obvious, to grip the hard line of his own cock through his joggers and squeeze. His head tips back, and he’s so gorgeous just by default that Namjoon can’t tell if this is a show for him or if it’s genuinely the way Seokjin looks when he jerks off. 

“Fuck, Namjoon-ah,” he rasps, head moving back to make eye contact again. “Let me see all of you?”

Namjoon whines, immediately blushing deeper when he hears the sound come out of his own mouth. Seokjin doesn’t look away, though, and the heat in his eyes is like nothing Namjoon’s ever seen before. He sits up and pushes his underwear off quickly, tossing it, then reaches out to grab Seokjin’s waistband.

“You too, hyung.” Namjoon licks his lips as he says it, and sure enough, Seokjin’s eyes follow the movement once again.

“Take them off me.” The words are no less commanding, but Seokjin’s smile softens as he gives the order.

Seokjin tilts his head, barely a fraction of a movement, but it’s enough for Namjoon to read. You okay? He’s asking. Keep going?

Yes, fuck, yes.

Namjoon nods, stripping the joggers down in one smooth motion. He groans with how badly he wants as Seokjin’s hard cock springs free. It’s thick and mouthwatering, and without thinking Namjoon leans in and licks at the tip of it. A rush goes through him when Seokjin gasps and his hand comes up to hold the shaft. The taste is sharp, salty, and Namjoon doesn’t hate it. He lets his tongue hang out, deliberately imitating what he’s seen in porn, and leans in again to lick over Seokjin’s fingers and up to the head.

Namjoon’s practiced on his own fingers and even a dildo, and has had plenty of fantasies about going down on guys, but he knows better than to try with the real thing for the first time right now . He doesn’t want to choke and turn Seokjin off, and honestly he’s not even sure a cock as big as Seokjin’s can fit. Namjoon knows he’s great at eating pussy, but skill with his tongue doesn’t translate to...mouth size, or whatever the key skill elements for giving guys head are.

Besides, he’s pretty sure Seokjin is into the open-mouthed licking that Namjoon’s doing right now. He’s getting harder (and bigger, fuck, how is that possible) and his breath is heavy and labored. Namjoon enjoys himself, exploring between Seokjin’s fingers wrapped around his thick shaft, and up to the head where he’s leaking shiny precome. He flicks his tongue into the slit of Seokjin’s cock, considering, and makes a startled noise when he’s abruptly pulled away by the hair.

“I thought you wanted hyung to fuck you?” Seokjin asks, almost sharp enough to pass teasing and hit mean.

Namjoon doesn’t miss the way he’s flushed all the way down to his pecs, though.

“Come back,” Namjoon says in lieu of a response, lying back on the bed and reaching for Seokjin.

Seokjin follows him down, and just like that morning three weeks ago, he reaches down to take both their cocks in hand. Namjoon moans louder than he has all night, even that barest amount of friction feeling like a blessing. Seokjin strokes them lightly, neither of them wet enough yet to provide any real lubrication, but just the sensation of his cock against Namjoon’s has him gasping. Namjoon is just as turned on by the way they don’t quite fit into Seokjin’s hand as he was the first time.

Namjoon moans into Seokjin’s shoulder for a moment while he works them both back to full hardness. He’s skimming his teeth over Seokjin’s collarbone when he feels Seokjin’s other hand start to make its way lower on his body. There’s a caress over Namjoon’s inner thighs that makes him shiver, before Seokjin’s fingers dip down to play with his balls. The touch isn’t unwelcome, but Namjoon squirms nervously on his back, knowing where the fingers are heading.

But then Seokjin presses gently just behind his balls, and the sensation it creates inside him is aching and sharp and molten all at once.

“Fuck!” Namjoon gasps, voice cracking, and Seokjin laughs affectionately against his hair.

“You can reach your prostate from here, too, Joon-ah,” he comments, massaging harder and making a kind of approving rumble when Namjoon sighs and lets his eyes flutter closed.

It’s not long before Namjoon is impatient for more. He and Seokjin are rutting lazily against each other, pearly precome welling from Namjoon’s cock as his prostate is stimulated.

“Hyung, c’mon,” Namjoon means it to come out low and demanding, but Seokjin finally strokes over his hole in exactly that moment and he whimpers instead.

“Ask hyung for what you want, Namjoon-ah.” Seokjin says sternly. The strict tone goes straight to Namjoon’s cock. 

He clenches without meaning to, and knowing Seokjin can feel it against the pads of his fingers is humiliating. Seokjin moans, though, letting the facade of unaffectedness drop, and rubs hard against the tightness of Namjoon’s hole. Namjoon’s hips buck without his permission, and he flails out with one hand, reaching under the pillow for lube before he remembers that this is Seokjin’s room.

“Ask hyung, Namjoon.” Seokjin won’t let up with his fingers, smirking down at Namjoon.

“Hyung!” It’s almost a shriek.

Namjoon feels wild, like if he doesn’t get something inside him right now he’s simply going to die. “Hyung, please! Lube, please just- please fuck me!” 

He needs to feel Seokjin closer, deeper. His fingers or his tongue or his cock, Namjoon doesn’t care, he just wants.

Namjoon draws one leg up to his chest and kicks with the other, splaying it out shamelessly in a way that he never would have been bold enough to do just an half hour ago earlier. It’s different now. Different with Seokjin on top of him and all around him, with Seokjin’s deep voice telling him what to do and Seokjin’s careful hands on his body. Different, with Seokjin’s cock sliding right up against his own.

Seokjin’s hand comes up to hook under Namjoon’s bent knee and he strokes down over his inner thigh approvingly.

“Gorgeous, Namjoon-ah,” he murmurs. “So gorgeous, just for hyung, right?” 

Namjoon moans an affirmative, flexing his thigh and rocking his hips up again, urging Seokjin to keep touching. He can’t stand it, all this waiting and pausing. He needs that pressure back against his hole again. 

Seokjin leans forward over Namjoon and reaches towards his bedside table. It gives him a close-up view of Seokjin’s muscular pec, light brown nipple, and pretty, smooth skin. Namjoon cranes his neck up to lick over that peaked nipple, satisfied with himself when Seokjin inhales sharply. When he sits back up again a moment later, Seokjin has a small bottle of lube and a few condoms in his hand.

“No, hyung,” Namjoon protests. 

He doesn’t want a condom between them, not when they’re both tested every few months by the company and they have a few more precious hours after this.

Seokjin leans down to kiss him. “Yes. No mess tonight, hyung is going to take care of you.”

Namjoon pouts in the way he was too shy to earlier, and Seokjin’s smile takes over his whole face. It fills Namjoon with warmth, and then even more desire.

“But I want the mess!” Namjoon exclaims, slapping a hand over his mouth a second later, embarrassed.

Seokjin looks at him with both eyebrows raised, and Namjoon hates that he can tell there’s a joke there just barely being held back. (Okay, so maybe he loves it, just like he loves being able to read everything else about Seokjin, but he really doesn’t want to be laughed at right now).

“You want it, huh?” Seokjin says at last, his voice pitched low. It seems like lust won out over humor, and Namjoon takes that victory for what it is.

“Yeah, hyung, I want...I want everything. I want you to see how-” and Namjoon cuts himself off there, struggling to say it out loud. 

It’s one thing to want it, and another to admit it openly, especially their first time together. Namjoon isn’t quite sure how to tell Seokjin that he wants to get fucked raw because he’s spent years jerking off to closeups of muscular tops pumping their partners so full of come that it spills out around their hard cocks.

Seokjin hasn’t known him for five years for nothing, though, and the smirk that spreads across his face is filthy.

“You want hyung to watch, Joon-ah?” He squeezes slightly around Namjoon’s thigh. “Watch my come leak out? Want hyung to make a mess inside you?” 

The sound Namjoon makes is more a sob than a moan, and his cock dribbles against his abdomen. That’s exactly what he wants. 

“Fuck! Yes, want it!” Namjoon’s voice is rough with need and humiliation and furious, uncontrolled arousal.

Seokjin guides Namjoon’s leg back towards his chest and settles on his knees, body pressed up against the back of Namjoon’s thigh. It’s a not-inconsiderable stretch, and Namjoon shifts around a bit, trying to get comfortable. It’s hard to believe that this is really happening - that it’s really Seokjin naked in bed with him, Seokjin’s real hands on his body and his very real cock hot against his leg. Seokjin waits patiently for Namjoon to settle before he kisses the scar on Namjoon’s knee and slicks up a few of his fingers.

“Hyung’s going to make you feel so good, Joonie.” He promises, before wrapping one long-fingered hand around Namjoon’s cock and guiding his legs a little farther apart with the other.

Namjoon’s renewed nervousness at being so exposed slips away the moment he’s touched. He gasps and thrusts up into the circle of Seokjin’s fist, heat licking through him. It feels so good that Namjoon forgets to be shy about the squish of his soft belly or the fact that nobody has ever seen him like this before, all spread out and on display.

Seokjin curls his fingers gently, petting over Namjoon’s hole instead of pushing in immediately. The lube is cold, but Namjoon can barely think about that discomfort when what he really wants is friction. It’s maddening - he can’t predict what Seokjin is going to do. Every stroke of his fingertips winds Namjoon up a little more, and he hears more than feels himself panting. 

When he forces his eyes open, Seokjin is staring down between his legs at where his fingers are teasing barely a centimeter in and out. Namjoon really hadn’t anticipated Seokjin spending so much time just looking at him, and somewhere, distantly, he’s glad for his lack of body hair. The staring makes Namjoon feel flushed, overheated, and he’s not sure if it’s embarrassment or arousal or somehow, both.

After the fifth time Namjoon thinks Seokjin is finally about to breach him properly but then just rubs harder instead, he’s had enough.

“Hyung, come on! I want to fuck already!”

Seokjin laughs, sudden and loud, and leans down to drop an indulgent kiss on Namjoon’s lips. Unfortunately, the movement pushes Namjoon’s leg back a little farther than he can take, and he yelps in pain. Seokjin pulls back immediately, with his hands as well as his body, and Namjoon is jerked from maddening pleasure to a shockingly cold lack of touch and a twinge in his right hamstring.

They stare at each other, equally surprised, and then Seokjin is laughing again and Namjoon can’t help himself either. Seokjin’s laugh is just so contagious, and for a moment they just slump together, snorting unattractively and shaking with the effort of suppressing it. Seokjin’s laughter gets more breathy as his hips make contact with Namjoon’s thigh again, cock dragging over the smooth skin and leaving a streak of precome in it’s wake. His hand moves back between Namjoon’s legs, and that’s how he finally slips a finger inside him - when they’re both still quaking with the end of their laughter, bodies pressed together.

The relief of finally having something inside is so strong that Namjoon groans, body going limp for a moment. He tries to rock down on the single finger, already wishing for more, but Seokjin takes his other hand off Namjoon’s cock and lays it against his hip instead.

“Feels good?” He asks, though when Namjoon looks up at him he can see by Seokjin’s smirk that he already knows the answer.

“More, hyung, I can take it,” Namjoon tells him, voice thin with the urgency he feels.

He’s not lying - with the amount of lube Seokjin has made sure to use, one finger hardly feels like anything. (Although, Namjoon very deliberately does not think about how many fingers thick Seokjin’s actual cock is.)

Seokjin slides a second finger inside him, and Namjoon tips his head back against the covers. It’s good. He feels the stretch and the burn of it now, and fuck yeah, it’s good. It feels like he’s been waiting hours for this, strung out on delicate touches and deliberate teasing.

“Let me hear you, Namjoon,” Seokjin says, and responding to his request feels as natural as breathing.

Namjoon moans out loud when Seokjin starts to fuck him gently, clenching down and then relaxing as his body adjusts. He slides the hand he has holding his thigh back down a little lower, so that he can brush Seokjin’s cock with his knuckles. It makes Seokjin grunt and rut against him harder, and Namjoon bites his lip.

Namjoon is sweating by now, heat pulsing through him from head to toe. He’s vibrating with the tension of everything that’s happening - the warring shyness and arousal of being spread open, the sensations of Seokjin’s body so close to his own and of Seokjin’s fingers inside him. He wants Seokjin to kiss him, wishes he was as flexible as Jimin so that his leg between them wouldn’t be an issue.

“What is it, Joon-ah?” Seokjin asks, as if he’s reading Namjoon’s mind.

He feels a little foolish for pausing because of something so simple, but the way Seokjin is looking at him makes it clear that lying is not an option.

“Can we move?” Namjoon suggests, propping himself up on one elbow and wincing at the strain it puts on his leg. “I wanna kiss you.”

Seokjin looks surprised, like he’d expected Namjoon to say something else, or ask to stop entirely. The smile that spreads across his face is soft and genuine, though, and he moves immediately. A moment later Namjoon finds himself with his legs bent up on either side of Seokjin’s body and his hyung kneeling over him. Namjoon clenches, feeling lube trickle out of him from where Seokjin had to pull out in order to shift them around. He wants that feeling of fullness back, and badly. 

“More, please,” Namjoon starts, and then - 

“Fuck!” Namjoon exclaims, because Seokjin’s fingers are back, and this time there’s three of them.

Three feels very different than two, the stretch sending little jolts of pain through Namjoon. The burn of it, though - the burn feels delicious, feels like it’s spreading up through his body like wildfire with how far inside of him Seokjin can reach. He’s never been able to finger himself this deep, the angle too difficult and his wrist not quite mobile enough. Seokjin’s fingers are thinner than his own, but their shape is different, and Namjoon finds that he likes it.

“Okay?” Seokjin breathes the question into his ear, and Namjoon realizes that he’s panting, hard and fast.

He brings both arms up to wrap around Seokjin’s neck, suddenly craving closeness. Namjoon inhales the scent of him, clean soap and a hint of cologne. It mingles with the smell of their arousal and sweat, and maybe that should be gross, but it only makes Namjoon harder. He finds Seokjin’s lips with his own, seeking more, more, more. Namjoon’s back is slick with sweat. He shoves his tongue into Seokjin’s mouth and grinds his hips down hard against his fingers. 

Everything is too fast and not fast enough. The firm pressure in his ass, the weight of Seokjin’s body on top of his, the heat and the sweat and the way their hard cocks rub together between them. Namjoon lets himself make noise, whines and gasps and moans, because every time he does Seokjin growls a little against his neck and ruts down harder. They’re both getting distracted by the slick slide, precome and lube blending together. Namjoon’s hard-on had flagged a little, but the way Seokjin angles his hips to rut against him has him leaking again fast.

Namjoon can’t do much more than clench and squirm around the fingers buried inside him. The harder he gets, the better it feels, and the more he wishes for friction, for the sensation of being fucked . Namjoon isn’t sure if Seokjin is teasing him on purpose or if he’s as distracted by grinding their cocks together as he seems to be - and fuck, Namjoon can’t really blame him if that’s the case. It’s a pretty picture, the way the red and leaking heads are trapped together between their bodies.

“H-hyung, I want it, I need more,” Namjoon pants, and in another moment of boldness he lets go of Seokjin and hooks both hands behind his knees, rocking his hips up. 

Namjoon thinks he must have had this thought ten times tonight already, but - It’s the most exposed he’s ever been. Namjoon’s hole clenches around Seokjin’s fingers and his cock slaps against his belly, the head dark and wet. He closes his eyes, feeling himself blush again because he knows that Seokjin is looking at him, at his ass and how he’s stretched.

“Fuck,” Seokjin spits. He’s gazing down at Namjoon like he’s never seen anything so gorgeous before in his life.

Namjoon can’t believe that look is for him.

Seokjin stares reverently for another moment, and then he starts to move his hand, and Namjoon realizes why this position is so popular in porn and erotica.

The new angle means that Seokjin has to kneel up to finger him properly, and Seokjin kneeling up shifts the position of his wrist, which changes the way his fingers are angled inside of Namjoon. And that puts the pads of Seokjin’s fingers directly on top of his prostate.

Namjoon shouts, his whole body jerking, and Seokjin makes an approving sound. He curls his fingers, stroking them over and around the little spot, and Namjoon absolutely cannot control the noises coming out of him.

“Ah, ah, hyu-u-ng,” he chants, fingers digging into the backs of his thighs as he shoves his head back against the bedsheets and tries to catch his breath.

“You like it, Joonie?” Seokjin coos. “Gonna like it even more when it’s my cock, huh?” 

Namjoon whines, toes curling.

“Hyung, h-ah, hnn,” he can’t get the words out, can’t tell Seokjin how good it feels, how much, or how badly he needs his cock.

Namjoon tries to pull his legs closer to his chest, tries to rock down and take Seokjin’s fingers deeper. He’s sweating more, though, and his hand slips, leg falling back to the bed. Namjoon cries out in frustration as he loses that perfect angle and Seokjin adds insult to injury when he eases his fingers out a moment later, leaving Namjoon feeling strangely, uncomfortably empty.

Unsure how to cope with that feeling, he sits up, but Seokjin meets him with a kiss and a gentle hand in the center of his chest.

“Need more lube, baby.” Seokjin explains, and Namjoon relents, leaning back on his elbows.

Excitement and nervousness swirl in his gut, building up into something that’s not what Namjoon usually thinks of as arousal, but also isn’t... not that. 

Seokjin is going to fuck him. 

Seokjin is going to fuck him, and if it’s anything like how his fingers felt, it might become one of the best things Namjoon has ever felt in his life. He reaches for his own cock almost without thinking, imagining how in a few moments Seokjin will pin him down again, maybe hold him still as he pushes inside. That sends a lick of heat through him so strong that his cock jerks in his hand, and Namjoon sucks in a breath. 

Fuck, he wants Seokjin to ruin him. It feels like all the anticipation and anxiety of the past few months is rising up inside him at once, like his body has suddenly decided that this is the moment he’s been waiting for. Namjoon doesn’t know if that’s exactly correct, but fuck, it’s what’s happening, and he really doesn’t want to stop.

They shouldn’t stop, right? It’s okay that this feels kind of like it’s the peak of everything in the whole world, okay that it feels like he’s going to burst. 

Right? 

Namjoon can feel all those other worries knocking at the door of his mind and god damn it, he will not let them in, not now, not when he’s about to —

Reality takes back over in the form of Seokjin’s hand cupping his jaw and his lips on Namjoon’s.

“Namjoon-ah. What are you thinking about? Do you want to slow down?” 

There’s no judgement on his face, only kindness, the type of open affection that Namjoon usually only catches sight of in the background of Bangtan Bombs after they’re posted. 

The kind of emotion Seokjin doesn’t often wear in plain sight.

“No, I just- ” Namjoon pauses, unsure how to say it but not wanting to betray this moment of trust. “I can’t stop thinking. About everything. And I only want to think about you.” 

Namjoon didn’t realize how true it was until he said it out loud.

Seokjin swallows, and looks at him for a long moment. It’s maybe the most unguarded Namjoon has ever seen him.

“Hyung will take care of you, Joon-ah,” he says at last, voice low but not quite trembling. 

The meaning is clear to both of them.

They stay like that, motionless, no need for words. Namjoon stares into Seokjin’s eyes, held captive, feeling like he’s understanding something so powerful that it’s a little scary.

Seokjin takes a breath. “Hyung will take care of you.” 

This time, Seokjin’s tone shifts a little, letting some of the sexual charge from minutes ago bleed back into it. The energy in the room shifts and simmers. “Hyung is going to make sure there’s only one thing left in your head, tonight.” 

Namjoon’s breath hitches. Heat washes over him like a tidal wave.

He wants it, he wants it so badly he could beg.

“Stop thinking, and look at me.” Seokjin’s voice is soft and firm.

Namjoon looks.

Seokjin runs his fingertips from Namjoon’s hairline all the way down his jaw, to his neck, and then lower still to tease across his pec. He flicks a nipple teasingly before trailing the hand down to Namjoon’s hip and squeezing. Namjoon doesn’t dare to move. Panting, he squeezes his shaft lightly and watches Seokjin’s eyes roam over his body. His ass clenches, the feeling of emptiness still present. 

Seokjin’s other hand, wet with lube, smacks Namjoon’s sharply.

“Let go of that, Namjoon-ah,” he scolds. Namjoon inhales on a whimper and drops his hand from where he’d started to stroke himself. “Hyung will do it.”

Seokjin jerks him hard and fast, working Namjoon to full hardness in seconds. He tries not to move too much, tries to be good, and wow - just that thought, the idea of being good for Seokjin — it spikes arousal in him so intensely that Namjoon doesn’t know what to do.

“You want my cock now, Namjoonie?” Seokjin asks, sitting back up.

“Yes.” Namjoon throws whatever shyness he has left away and looks Seokjin in the eye. He doesn’t want either of them second guessing this, doesn’t want Seokjin to hesitate. “I want it, hyung.” 

Seokjin makes that growling noise again, the one that is proving again and again to make Namjoon weak. He puts both hands on Namjoon’s hips, and urges him to turn.

“Flip over, baby. It’ll be easier this way, I promise.”

The way he says it - I promise - serves to remind Namjoon of Seokjin’s experience. He’s fucked men before, probably a lot of men, and he expects Namjoon to follow his lead. To his surprise, it doesn’t make Namjoon jealous, doesn’t make him feel inferior any more. Maybe he’s thinking with his dick, but all Namjoon feels is safe. Safe, and very, very turned on. Seokjin knows what he’s doing. Seokjin is going to take care of him. Seokjin chose him.

Namjoon rolls over willingly, and Seokjin runs a warm hand down his back. It’s a little less stressful this way, Namjoon thinks. Seokjin can look at him all he wants, but Namjoon doesn’t have to watch him do it. Doesn’t have to feel quite so… open.

“God, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin starts, and Namjoon shivers. He hadn’t thought about that, about Seokjin talking more. “You look so good.”

Namjoon ruts his hips down against the sheets without thinking. He could cry with how badly he wants to be touched, to be filled up again. Seokjin taps his hip, a warning to be still, and then suddenly all Namjoon can think about is what Seokjin’s palm would feel like coming down against his ass. He’s almost dizzy with it, imagining, until he’s pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp bite at the nape of his neck.

“No thinking, remember?” There’s a note of humor and affection in Seokjin’s tone. “Focus on me, baby.” 

Baby. Namjoon shivers, pushing his hips up and back towards Seokjin almost on instinct. He grabs at the covers on either side of his head, not sure if he should be up on his hands and knees or fully facedown against the mattress. Seokjin makes that decision for him, tugging Namjoon up by the shoulders. They fit together well, Seokjin’s knees spread just outside of Namjoon’s, his chest warm against Namjoon’s back. Namjoon can feel the hot line of his cock against his ass. Seokjin noses under his ear, dropping kisses there and up over Namjoon’s temple. His voice is soft, but rough when he whispers into Namjoon’s ear.

“You want to get fucked, Joon-ah? Want to forget everything that isn’t me?”

Namjoon moans, arms shaking. The words are dirty, aggressive, and they serve their purpose. All Namjoon can feel around him is Seokjin, all he can think about is Seokjin. Seokjin holding him down, Seokjin’s cock rubbing against his entrance.

Namjoon has never let anybody else touch him like this.

He doesn’t realize he’d been moaning it out loud, needy and urgent under his breath, until Seokjin hums against his ear.

“That’s right, Joon-ah, only me. Only for hyung.” 

Namjoon’s cock jerks pathetically where it hangs under him, precome welling up and dripping. He’s Seokjin’s, willingly and absolutely. Tonight, and always.

Seokjin’s hands squeeze his hips and then roam further. He traces down Namjoon’s shaft and over his balls, follows the soft skin all the way around to his hole.

Namjoon clenches reflexively, and the sound he lets out is almost a sob.

“Hyung! I’m ready!” he cries, but Seokjin holds firm.

“You’re ready when hyung says you are, Namjoonie.” There’s no room for argument.

Namjoon is going to die of blue balls at this point, he’s sure of it. Seokjin is going to keep him on this edge forever, until he can’t hold out any longer and comes just from the slightest brush of Seokjin’s fingertips over his cock.

Not giving Namjoon another chance to complain, Seokjin pushes three fingers back into him and squeezes cold lube down over his hole at the same time. Namjoon groans again and rolls his hips, fucking himself on Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing how much easier the slide is this time. He opens up easily, body welcoming Seokjin back like it’d been waiting for him. This time the stretch feels like not enough rather than too much. Namjoon clenches, and Seokjin grunts approvingly.

Seokjin pulls his fingers out and smooths both hands up over Namjoon’s torso. They’re filthy, covered in lube and precome and god knows what else, but Namjoon doesn’t care. It’s Seokjin. He fists his hands and pants for breath, the emptiness feeling even worse this time. He aches, wanting the pressure and the stretch back, and rocks towards Seokjin in a nonverbal plea for more. Seokjin taps the head of his cock against his wet hole and Namjoon moans, spreading his legs a little farther and arching his back. He’s shaking with need, the tease unbearable.

“Breathe for me, okay?” Seokjin murmurs into the back of Namjoon’s neck, crowding close and folding around him.

Namjoon feels the blunt pressure of Seokjin’s cock, and then a push, and then - oh fuck, this is nothing like fingers. 

It’s not even close - Seokjin’s cock is so much bigger, impossibly big, feels like it’s going to split Namjoon in two. It hurts. Namjoon lets out a little whimper as Seokjin pushes in a centimeter further, tries to make it sound like he only feels good, but his voice cracks.

“I know, Joonie, keep breathing, okay?” Seokjin’s voice cuts through the pain, soothing and deep.

Namjoon breathes. He tries to relax, to let his body accommodate the intrusion.

“Touch yourself, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin urges. “Hyung’s got you.”

Namjoon leans all his weight into one arm and gets a hand around his cock. The change is immediate - suddenly the pain has an edge of pleasure to it. Closing his eyes, Namjoon sucks in another breath and thumbs under the head of his cock, rubbing back and forth in the way that always gets him close. 

Namjoon’s body throbs around the rounded head of Seokjin’s cock, fully inside him now. A few more moments pass like that, both of them trembling with the effort to stay still. Seokjin grits his teeth and Namjoon can feel the flex of his jaw and the tension that’s stringing his body taut. He tries to breathe as he jerks himself off, quick gasps that catch on the pain and the pleasure alike.

Seokjin pushes again, sliding deeper, and this time Namjoon moans. 

Seokjin moans too, loud in his ear, and Namjoon clenches reflexively. It’s hot, hearing Seokjin come a little bit undone, hearing him take pleasure in Namjoon’s body. The pain flares sharp and intense for a moment but eases quickly this time as he gets used to the sheer intensity of the stretch. Namjoon pumps his fist over his cock and rests his forehead on the mattress. All he can do is feel. It’s like all the sensation in his body has redirected to his ass, to his cock. He’s shaking. Namjoon pictures how he must look right now, bent over like this for Seokjin, and he moans aloud. 

He takes a deep, shuddering breath and continues to stroke himself, and before long the pain eases away. Now that the widest part is past his rim, the worst seems to be over. 

Namjoon massages over and around the head of his cock, groaning and rocking his hips back the slightest bit. It still hurts, the burn intense and inescapable, but Seokjin touches him gently, squeezing and rubbing at his hips. His mouth is warm on Namjoon’s neck, and the low rumble of his voice vibrates against Namjoon’s back.

Sure enough, the pleasure creeps in as he moves. The friction starts to feel good. Seokjin’s tongue laves over his neck, and Namjoon shudders. His hips begin to twitch back on their own, bit by bit, taking more of Seokjin’s thick shaft into his body. Namjoon feels a sudden rush of cold on his pulsing rim, Seokjin adding more lube to what’s already a mess. It helps - another inch, and then another, the slide easy now.

The sensations light up his body like fireworks. Namjoon strokes himself harder, faster, chasing the pleasure and letting himself sink into the feeling of fullness, of being stretched beyond what he thought possible. Every time Namjoon thinks that must be all of it, he’s proven wrong, as Seokjin fills him up more and more. Seokjin is so slow, so careful, and Namjoon wants to shower him in praise and love and appreciation and thanks, but the only thing he can say is “hyung, hyung, hyung.”

Namjoon clenches hard, unable to stop himself, and lets out a shaky moan. Seokjin’s hipe settle against his, fully inside, long and thick and stretching him to his limit. If he moves, he’ll surely break apart. Namjoon can't imagine there's any room left inside him at all, for anything. He lets his eyes drop closed and simply feels. Namjoon focuses on the firmness of Seokjin’s big hands on his hips and the give of the sheets under his knees. On Seokjin’s breath against his neck, and the softness of his lips as he murmurs sweet praise into Namjoon’s skin.

He feels overwhelmed, like everything he’s ever done or planned to do has shrunk down to just taking Seokjin’s cock like this. The only thought left in his head is full, full, full. Nobody has ever been this full, not ever. Namjoon thinks he might be drooling, and Seokjin hasn’t even started fucking him yet.

He puts his head down and rolls his hips experimentally, and oh, wow, the friction feels good. He’s so stretched he can barely stand it, and yet his body seems to want more. He wants Seokjin to hold him down and fuck him hard, to shove his cock so deep that Namjoon can’t even conceive of anything else.

“Fuck me, fuck me, c’mon hyung,” Namjoon urges, hips working erratically.

Seokjin runs his hands over Namjoon’s body and squeezes his ass, folding forward to press his chest to Namjoon’s back. His hips start moving in tiny little thrusts, slow at first and then picking up speed until Namjoon is crying out with pleasure. The sound of Seokjin’s skin against his own is obscene, a quick smack smack smack that makes Namjoon blush for what feels like the thousandth time tonight. 

The feeling of being fucked is all-consuming, and the only things Namjoon can focus on are the near-constant moan escaping his chest and the way Seokjin’s cock pistons into him. He gives up trying to support his body and drops to his elbows, back arching deeper still. The shift in angle is the final blow to Namjoon’s sanity.

This is what he’s been craving, this absolute surrender, this inescapable tornado of sensation and submission and intensity. Seokjin straightens up and fucks Namjoon hard, pulling his hips back on every thrust. Namjoon can barely hear the noises he’s making over the ringing in his ears. Any hope of control was gone the moment Seokjin’s cock started rubbing over his prostate.

Every syllable is punched out of his lungs by a thrust, every sound wrung through worn-out vocal cords. Namjoon whimpers and sobs and gasps like he never has in his entire life, body jerking closer to the headboard with every solid thrust from Seokjin’s hips. He barely flails his hands out in time to keep his head from hitting the wood, and that concept alone is sexy enough to wring a proper moan from his chest.

“F-f-fuck, unh, J-jin-nie, ah, hyung, yes,” Namjoon slurs, drooling into the sheets and feeling like he finally understands what ‘fucked dumb’ means.

“Fuck, Joon, you’re so good, shit,” Seokjin himself doesn’t seem too much better off, though his thrusts are steady and controlled and getting harder by the moment.

Pain is a distant memory by now, or rather, it’s just part of the pleasure. Namjoon relishes the stretch and burn of Seokjin’s cock splitting him open. He never wants it to stop, not if it’s going to make him feel like this. The slide is quick and incredible, lube dripping down Namjoon’s thighs where the speed of Seokjin’s fucking has pushed it out of his body. Namjoon is struck again by the idea of Seokjin’s come doing the same thing, and he tries to ask for it again.

“Hyung, want, please, I-I want!” He can’t quite manage to get it out. Seokjin fucks like a man possessed, like the only thing that matters in the entire world is pounding Namjoon so hard he can’t think, let alone speak.

At those words, though, he slows, and his voice is gentle despite everything.

“Okay, Namjoonie? Want hyung to slow down?” Namjoon can hear the effort Seokjin is putting in to level out his voice, and it makes him feel warm and safe, treasured and protected.

“No, want your c-come, want it,” Namjoon pants, eyes closed.

The sheets under his face are damp and his body is pouring sweat. Namjoon’s ass is throbbing but it feels good, so fucking good, and he doesn’t want Seokjin to stop - just the way he’s slowed down to hear what Namjoon is saying is a torment. 

“Hyung’ll give you what you want, don’t worry.” There’s an edge to Seokjin’s tone that sets a whole new fire deep in Namjoon’s belly.

He moans quietly, trying to shuffle his legs back together a little more, and Seokjin pats his ass approvingly.

“Good boy.” He says, and Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut hard because that went straight to his cock without any question at all.

“Gonna fuck you so good, Joon-ah, you’ll never be satisfied without my cock inside you,”

Seokjin’s words are filthy, surprisingly so, and Namjoon - well, he kind of loves it. He never expected Seokjin of all people to talk so dirty, but it’s hitting all the right notes in Namjoon’s desperate, fucked-out brain. Because he's right, he's absolutely right, Namjoon will never feel this good again, will never spend another moment not wishing he wasn't doing this instead.

One hand squeezes his hip and the other threads into his hair, not pulling hard enough to hurt. It's a display of power and control that makes Namjoon moan helplessly, a hiccoughing sob escaping as he shudders under Seokjin's hands. Namjoon lets his body rock forward and back with the slower, deeper thrusts, clenching when Seokjin buries himself and trying to relax when he pulls out, though it’s hard to focus with how good everything feels.

Namjoon hopes it lasts forever. His mouth is open and his eyes are squeezed closed and his hands are limp in the sheets by his head. Nothing has ever felt this good. Namjoon can’t believe he never tried harder to reach his prostate properly, can’t believe he waited this long to confess to Seokjin when he could have been getting railed like this for months already.

It could have been minutes or hours by the time Seokjin’s hands tighten on Namjoon’s hips and his breath starts to stutter.

“Gonna come, Joon,” Seokjin starts, and Namjoon clenches hard at his words.

“F-fill me up, hyung, do it,” Namjoon chokes out.

Namjoon is close himself, has been close for a long time. He slumps further, face buried in the mattress, and gets a hand under himself. His hand is tight around his cock and Seokjin picks up the pace, thrusting hard and fast as he chases his orgasm. Namjoon bites down hard and pumps his fist and he’s close, so close - 

And then Seokjin is yelling and pulling Namjoon’s hips flush with his own. There’s heat pulsing inside him and Namjoon realizes, half-delirious, that Seokjin is coming, and that’s it. All the tension and want and endless teasing surges up inside him and explodes. Technicolor bursts behind his eyes with how tightly he squeezes them closed, with the sheer force of his orgasm. His hand falls away from his cock as he spurts white all over the bed, hips jerking forward into empty air and back against Seokjin. He comes for what feels like forever, longer than he ever has before, as Seokjin’s still-hard cock grinds against his prostate.

Seokjin collapses on top of him, weak with the intensity of his own orgasm, and wraps both arms around Namjoon’s torso. They shudder together, wrapped up in each other so completely that the dorm could be burning down around them and they wouldn’t even notice. Seokjin squeezes Namjoon tightly, and Namjoon lets him. His brain is floating somewhere in the stratosphere, conciousness reduced to nothing more than electric impulse and delicious fullness and unending, overwhelming waves of searing pleasure. He doesn’t start to move until after his breathing has returned to normal, and realizes belatedly that they’re still connected. Namjoon makes a low sound in his throat, and Seokjin stirs.

“Hold on, Joon-ah.” His voice is as reassuring as ever, even strained after all the yelling and moaning of the past...however long it’s been.

When Seokjin pulls out, it feels - horrible. Unnatural, as if he’s been full forever instead of just minutes, as if not having Seokjin’s cock buried inside him is fundamentally wrong . Namjoon wails a little, and Seokjin pets over his side, soothing.

“Hyung will give you his cock whenever you need it, baby, don’t worry.”

Seokjin colors a little after he says it, like he can’t believe he’s still talking so dirty even after they’ve both come. Namjoon groans into the sheets, thinking, maybe it’s just for me. He grins at the thought, and makes a distant plan to explore that more later on. Something about the idea of Seokjin pulling him aside during a normal daily schedule and whispering like that in his ear - it makes Namjoon’s cock twitch even now.

Seokjin places one big hand at his shoulder and one at his hip, urging Namjoon onto his back. He goes with a heavy sigh. Seokjin slides his hands down Namjoon’s body and along his thighs, pressing them up and back to expose him again.

“You wanted me to watch, right?” Seokjin’s question is rhetorical, but Namjoon blushes deeply all the same.

His mind feels a little floaty, body a little un-tethered as he arches into Seokjin’s touch. It’s hard to believe that just an hour ago he’d never so much as had another person’s fingers in him. Now, he’s clenching around nothing more than the memory of Seokjin’s thick cock, and the lube and come Seokjin pounded into him is starting to make its way out.

Namjoon shudders, almost wanting to hide despite how long he’s wanted this. He squirms and Seokin’s hands tighten on his thighs.

“Let hyung see, Namjoon-ah,” Seokjin reprimands, eyes fixed on Namjoons puffy, well-used hole. 

Namjoon feels the mess start to trickle out of him, and he has to admit that it feels a lot less sexy than it looked in porn. Seokjin’s face, though, is more than enough to make up for that. He’s staring at Namjoon with his swollen lips parted and his eyes bright, post-orgasm flush still pink across his cheeks.

“Gorgeous,” Seokjin says softly, and Namjoon clenches.

He closes his eyes against the weight of Seokjin’s gaze, and stretches beneath his hands. Tries to focus on the throbbing of his ass and the residual pulsing pleasure in his groin rather than the embarrassment of being looked at like this. Fantasy and reality have blended, and Namjoon isn’t sure yet how he feels about it.

Seokjin leans down, careful, as though he’s afraid Namjoon might spook away. Their lips meet. Namjoon breathes in and all the doubt falls away.

Namjoon knows exactly how he feels.

He’s in love. And for the first time, he doesn’t doubt that Seokjin is too.