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thirty thousand feet and falling

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It’s supposed to be long flight. It’s supposed to be a nice long cruising flight with an expensive pair of headphones, Hoseok’s latest short story downloaded to his phone, and minimal interaction. Considering the conference Yoongi’s about to have to sit through, this flight either sounds like the calm before the boring storm or the long walk to the guillotine. He’s already entirely comfortable in his aisle seat, just minutes before take-off, when a pair of legs - tall, stupid long legs - stops immediately next to him. He follows them until they meet a torso then a chest then further still to a nervous but expectant face.


He’s talking, and Yoongi pulls one headphone out. “What?”


“I’m so sorry, I’m - I actually - the inside seat, that’s my seat.”


Yoongi sighs, shifting his legs to the side and letting the tall dude struggle past him. It’s a mistake. His lazy ass should’ve just stood up and moved because the moment this guy struggles past him, dick first - as if that would somehow be more comfortable than shimmying his ass inches past Yoongi’s face instead - Yoongi can feel the hair raise up on the back of his neck.


The other guy freezes too, his face as much in the oh shit range as Yoongi’s.


Usually, Yoongi’s fine. Usually, he picks up on soft scents here and there, subtle alpha pheromones that he easily ignores, like strong cologne in an open space, he’s usually very good at pretending to not be affected. Unfortunately, he’s sitting eye-to-dick level with the best smelling man he’s ever even crossed paths with, and now he’s stuck next to him for the duration of this flight.


The guy blushes slightly - cute , Yoongi thinks, annoyed by the concept of it - and tries to continue on but gets jerked back when his laptop bag gets stuck on the outside arm. Yoongi’s hands shoot up to help him, unfortunately landing on his chest to help him stand upright which is… surprisingly a lot firmer than Yoongi would’ve guessed. He pulls back quickly, deciding uncatching the bag is a two-hand job.


Yoongi wonders for a moment what else might be a two-hand job , and he makes a mental note to deck Taehyung right in the mouth for giving him the ability to construct that thought.


“Thank you…”


“Yeah,” comes Yoongi’s eloquent response as the guy manages to spin and fall into his seat. Poor guy is 75% leg and having trouble getting them to fit comfortably under the seat in front of him. Daddy long legs. Yoongi glares at the screen of his phone and frowns, opening his groupchat with his officemates. You’re all fired when I get back .


Taehyung is of course the first to respond, with a concerned :0


Jin soon follows, Jimin says that’s fine, thanks for nothing you old sack of shit


I DID NOT SAY THAT, Jimin defends with more than enough angry and crying emojis that Yoongi’s inclined to believe him.


ok I’m heading into the sky to never come back, pls don’t burn the office down.


Taehyung responds with several kissy emojis, and they all wish him luck before he turns on airplane mode and nestles into the fabric of his hoodie, earbuds in and story up on his screen. He hates how impossible it already is to focus with the smell of his seat neighbor. He brings the fabric of his hood up and scrunches himself down impossibly small. The plane begins taxiing the runway and his shoulders tense a little because for the next nine hours, that prickling sense on the back of his neck and the knots in his stomach are his reality.


It starts… fine. The flight is fine. Shaky at the start, Yoongi found unfortunate comfort in the scent his seatmate put out and eventually uncurled the fist he’d made out of nerves. He turns to glare at the guy all the same because the only reason the scent is remotely comforting is because Yoongi wants to stick his whole dick in it, drink it, drown it it. He can’t even put his finger on it, like… warm. And dirty. Like Yoongi’s got a mouth full of - oh . Coffee beans. The real shit, the kind you get real dark and ground in a press, strong and potent and natural, and tasty even if it is bitter.


Yoongi likes bitter.


He risks a glance over and the guy is reading a book, a real book, in his hands, and he’s turning the pages with the dumbest long fingers Yoongi’s ever seen. They’re like art, perfectly manicured nails, no callouses to be seen, thin silver bracelet hanging delicately off his wrist.


He wants those things three deep inside him.


His eyes get wide and he faces forward immediately as he feels himself leak a little. He ignores the way the guy next to him looks over in a mild panic himself. Yoongi tries to unbuckle his seatbelt and stand, but the flight attendant descends on him in the blink of an eye because the remain seated sign is still lit.


“No you don’t understand, is there anywhere I can be moved? Any open seat anywhere?”


“I’m sorry, sir, our flight today is full.” Her eyes flicker to the other man then back to Yoongi. “Is there something you’d like to speak to me about privately?”


Yoongi can tell from the hints of her smell that she’s an omega as well, and he instantly feels bad that he’s caused her to worry for him. “No, no. Just having a mild… thing. Panic. Flying, y’know?” He lets himself be talked back into sitting in the small moist patch inside his underwear where his slick has managed to pool. He turns to the guy, more than a little pissed. “This is your fault.”


Me ? What did I do?”


“If you weren’t pumping out pheromones like a frat boy on sorority row, this wouldn’t be a problem.”


“What’s the - what’s the problem exactly?” He looks like a deer in headlights, but Yoongi refuses to be swayed. “I just thought you smelled - uh, you smell like, good? It’s a little stronger than usual for me, but - I didn’t think that was my fault.”


“Whatever, just… I smell you. We get it. You’re a big, bad alpha and I’m a sweet, uwu omega. Just… keep your smell on that side of the armrest.”


“At no point since I sat down have I thought you were a sweet uwu anything, so let’s get that straight.” He grumbles before grabbing his book off his lap and turning toward the window.


Yoongi frowns, refusing to let himself feel bad about making this stranger upset considering he’s essentially fucking wet himself just in his presence. Fucking biological imperative bullshit. Sighing, Yoongi adjusts the front of his jeans to alleviate the tightness of his cock slightly plumping up as he frowns deeper. He tries real hard to ignore the way he catches the other guy lay his book down gently facedown in his lap.


Don’t, he implores his mind. Please don’t follow the train of thought that involves wondering how thick his cock probably is. Although, he’s built like a stringbean, he’s probably long… could probably get real deep... Yoongi shudders as another wave of slick trickles out of him and the guy next to him chokes a little.


“Will you quit? I didn’t even do anything this time,” the guy whispers, begging him, clutching the book in desperation.


“Why the fuck do you smell like dirt?” It comes out a little less angry than Yoongi was hoping.


“I don’t know, why do you ?”


“What the fuck are you talking about? I do not.”


And then guy does the worst possible thing he could do, pivoting toward Yoongi quickly and leaning in so close Yoongi can feel his breath against his neck as he inhales. He stays there a beat too long, taking another breath, and Yoongi is slipping. “No, I definitely smell dirt. Like that really bitter and heavy dark chocolate that’s more bean than sugar.”


“You’re one to talk,” Yoongi struggles to say even as the guy leans back into his seat. “I feel like I just ate a handful of coffee beans off the ground sitting next to you. It’s pretentious.”


The guy huffs. “Most people call it homey and comforting.”


“Most people must be actively trying to fuck you.” Oh. He didn’t mean to say that. If he was trying not to think about actively riding this dude’s dick before, it’s an impossibility now that he’s vocalized it.


“But you’re not most people, right?”


Why is he smiling? Yoongi hates it. He finally really truly looks at him, immediately regretting it. He’s got a button nose, thick lips, and a deep pair of dimples. He looks smug and shy at the same time, and Yoongi begs every god he can think of in his current state to either crash the plane or let him out of this seat because his underwear might be ruined but he can at least hope to save his jeans by this point.


The overhead console dings, and the light goes off, signifying that Yoongi can now move freely about the cabin. And move he does, unclicking his seatbelt so fast he accidentally knocks his own knuckles on the metal of the buckle, and he grimaces twice over as he nearly trips on his way to the bathroom.


It’s a relief to be able to breathe away from that scent, and he can feel himself start to calm a little, edging away from arousal and annoyance and instead plummeting into full-scale embarrassment. That guy knew he was wet. How fucking embarrassing , he puts his head in his hands. He’s supposed to sit next to this guy for how long again? He’s not entirely sure what to do other than live in the bathroom for the next nine hours unless he plans on changing clothes a few more times.


He rests his forehead against the mirror and grips the small sink for some sort of anchor, wracking his brain for a solution. It comes in the form of a quiet knock, and Yoongi knows. He whispers a ragged fuck , not even pretending to be bothered by the slick that finally does him in, guaranteed soaking his underwear. If anything, when he opens the door, he considers it self-preservation for his jeans.


The guy, as Yoongi so affectionately calls him in his mind, stands there in his full glory, smelling like dark roast coffee beans and looking like a model in his black-on-grey turtleneck and slacks, with an obvious erection as he clutches his hands nervously.


Yoongi sighs. He’s never met quite as shy an alpha as this dude, but Yoongi finds he likes it. He likes it a lot. He shudders as the door closes them both in, and there’s a small moment where they just sort of exist in too close a proximity, chests heaving despite their efforts to restrain themselves, and they’re doing pretty well until Yoongi’s watching his tongue wet his stupid fat bottom lip and dart back inside, making Yoongi’s stomach clench and threatening to ruin his jeans too.


The guy is on him in a second, and god, he’s tall, Yoongi thinks as he has to tilt up so far to let him kiss him.


“Oh, god ,” he moans when there’s a pair of hands on his ass, gripping hard and pulling him forward to grind their cocks together. “Are you gonna fuck me or what?”


“Romance really is dead.”


“Airplane bathroom. Biological imperative. Not really romantic.” His fingers shake a little as he tries to undo the other guy’s belt and fly.


“You don’t have to fuck just because you’re wet ,” and there’s something about the way that he says it that almost feels… derogatory. In a hot way. But Yoongi has his pride, and he frowns.


“You’re right, we don’t have to. You can leave if you want.”


“Do you want me to?”


“Do you want to?”


“You’re really contrarian, did you know that?”


Yoongi shrugs. “Probably, if I knew what that meant.” He resumes his mission to get this guy’s slacks off or at least down enough that his belt buckle and zipper don’t dig into Yoongi’s ass while this happens. Because this is happening. He doesn’t expect it, though, when there’s a strong grip on his waist that spins him around and presses his hips against the sink. He bites back a groan as his cock gets pushed against the side of the sink while the guy grinds against his ass. “Easy with the goods, asshole.”


“You seem pretty mad about the fact that you really want me to fuck you.” But he eases back, pulling Yoongi with him and replacing the hard edge of the sink with the soft press of his palm, and Yoongi is gone . He presses back against the guy at the same time he pushes his palm down harder, and Yoongi moans low in his throat, wondering how hard he’d have to grip the sink before it breaks in his hands because he’s pretty sure he’s gonna reach that point before he gets any satisfaction.


He inhales deep, letting the bitter smell of coffee wash over him, excite him and calm him all at once, and he flushes when he finds himself baring his neck subconsciously. Luckily, the only response he gets is a pair of fat lips sucking the column of his neck, threatening to draw bruises that Yoongi knows will embarrass him at the conference. “No marks. I got - work stuff.”


“Sorry. You’d look really good with them,” he mumbles against Yoongi’s skin and there’s a different sort of knot in Yoongi’s stomach because so far, it really has all been chemical to him. He’d assumed this guy just wanted to stick his dick in a slick omega and that he got off on their little banter, but the compliment catches him off-guard and he stutters out a thank you. He watches in the mirror as Tall, Dark, and Handsome’s hands travel to the fly of Yoongi’s jeans and begin to unbutton and unzip.


“Are you sure you want me to fuck you? Don’t want you to regret it just because you think you have to.”


Yoongi squints. That’s… kind of him. It’s a low fucking bar, but considering the assholes Yoongi’s hooked up with before, being given an out when the guy is literally thirty seconds from getting his dick wet is… nice. It takes him a moment to realize the hands on his zipper have stopped moving, and he’s actually supposed to answer. They make eye contact in the mirror, and Yoongi bites the inside of his cheek. God, he looks so small in comparison, with this guy curled around his back, arms caging him in as they wait.


“No, I’m good. No regrets so far. Depends on your stroke game, I guess.”


The smile he gets in response is far too cute for the circumstances. “Then I guess you won’t have any regrets.”


Yoongi groans in annoyance. “Put the alpha attitude back where it came from.” His jeans and underwear are tugged down in one swift motion, and his own petulance is bitten back immediately because he feels nothing but vulnerable right now.


He jumps when two fingers slide up the inside of his thigh, but they don’t stop, continuing up into the meat of his ass, pushing between his ass until they can push in steadily.


“Jesus, you really are wet. I smell that good to you?”


“I - I don’t know, I guess.” Yoongi can’t really think straight. The fingers are unnecessary, and they both know it, but the guy seems to be taking none too little pleasure in fingerfucking him, curling them inside him and scissoring as his other hand slides up to Yoongi’s shoulder and pushes him forward at an angle. “I just - ah - really like coffee -”


He realizes belatedly that he hasn’t gotten a look at the cock that’s about to be pushed inside him, and he’s never thought he had any special kinks in particular, but the idea of getting fucked by a man he doesn’t know in a public restroom at approximately 40,000 feet is really doing it for him right now.


He resolves not to be embarrassed when he feels more slick build up and spill out of him directly onto the tip of the guy’s cock.




“In my defense, I’m not usually -” Yoongi inhales sharply as he pushes in, and he’s far thicker than he thought he’d be, and he wonders if the reason he isn’t so over-the-top alpha is because he’s already secure in it. No need to talk big when - “Fuck, how big are you?”


“Sorry, sorry. I’m almost in I - I swear.”


“Just -” Yoongi huffs, pushing himself back that last little bit until he feels too full to even move. “Oh god. Fuck . You’re some sort - fucked up hentai creature -”


There’s a huff of laughter, and Yoongi’s head lolls back between his shoulderblades as he pulls out slowly just to push back in, and it’s torture, absolute torture, and Yoongi can’t wait to cum from it.


“Aren’t you just a messy boy,” the guy mutters, and Yoongi totally hates the shiver that runs through his veins.


“Messy man ,” Yoongi mutters back, trying to scowl at his reflection in the mirror but only finding he can’t make eye contact with how intently the man seems to be watching his own cock slide out nearly all the way before pushing back in too slowly for Yoongi’s liking. He honest to god whines then, before he can stop himself, and a large part of him still hopes the plane crashes as soon as he gets to cum. He only gets a moment’s warning, a fleeting second of eye contact but he’s being pushed forward with the force of a real thrust, and his hands are no longer on the sink, but on either side of the mirror, and the tip of his cock rests over the basin of the small sink.


He watches himself leak precum little by little, drops splattering on the off-white plastic. He doesn’t have much time to think about it when eight perfect fingernails dig into his hips at once and hold him in place as he gets fucked. When he can think straight, he’s gonna build a list of things he hates about this guy, another thing being that no, his stroke game is definitely something Yoongi doesn’t regret.


He’s so thick Yoongi can feel that his body hasn’t quite adjusted to the reality of it, but it’s certainly on its way.


“You smell so fucking good.”


Yoongi whines at the praise. The small bathroom smells like chocolate and coffee, and the sound of skin on slick on skin is disgustingly loud, so Yoongi tries very hard not to add his own moans into the mix. The last thing he wants is for this to end because they got caught. “Thought I smelled like dirt.”


“Yeah, but - the good kind.”


Yoongi can’t help a small laugh even as he crosses his arms on the mirror and rests his head on it. He bites gently into the meat of his arm to avoid whimpering when it changes from fast, desperate thrusts, to slow and powerful ones, punching little moans and grunts out of him every time hip bones thud against the meat of his ass.


Yoongi wishes momentarily he were on his stomach, crushed under the weight of this guy as he fucks him into the mattress. He watches a steady stream of his own precum spill into the sink.


“Are you getting close?”


Yoongi scoffs. “What? No.” Yes . “You’ve - barely put any work in.”


There’s a pause, and Yoongi panics thinking he’ll pull out before they’re done, but instead he’s surprised with an arm under his leg pulling it up until it’s on the counter and a tentative hand at the base of Yoongi’s neck as he’s held down. The stretch is more work than he’s done in months to be honest, essentially celibate except with a little help from Jin through his heats, but the burn in his thigh does nothing to detract from the pressure of being held down or the drag of the cock in him.


“Oh my god - are you - are you gonna knot?”


There’s another pause, and maybe Yoongi’s imagining the swelling inside him. “Do you want me to?”


“Do you want to?” It rolls off his tongue almost before the other guy finishes asking his own question.


“Only if you want me to, but you should hurry up and decide.”


“You just want me to beg.”


“Begging is up to you.”


“Just - fucking knot me, okay, Christ.”


“You sure?”


Yoongi nearly screams in frustration, but instead he lowers his voice and growls. “Please fucking knot me before I lose my goddamn mind.”


His stomach flutters at the smile he catches in the mirror. The guy buries himself deep, dropping his head in the back of Yoongi’s hair and inhaling, and Yoongi can smell the difference as soon the knot really starts to swell, pushing him past his edges into uncomfortable pleasure.


“I’m gonna -”


“I know, buddy, I can tell,” but Yoongi still gasps the moment he feels the guy start, pumping wave after wave of cum inside him, and god it’s gonna be messy, so disgustingly messy, and Yoongi wishes he was somewhere he could really enjoy that.


He rolls his head back to rest on the man’s shoulder, and whines at the teeth in his neck and the hand around his cock.


“Wow, you really were leaking from both sides huh.”


“Do you think that’s sexy? What you’re saying? Because - it’s not.”


“Just an observation.” It makes the slide much easier as his grip edges on too tight, almost as if he knows exactly how Yoongi likes it, and that’s just another thing he’ll add to the list of hot but annoying . “So fucking messy. Bet you like it that way, that’s why you asked me to knot you.”


“Ye - yes, yes . Fuck.” Yoongi looks down to watch that far too pretty hand squeeze his base and pump, pushing drop after drop of precum out of him and into the sink. The knot is driving him crazy, finally at its fullest, and it’s so far inside him that Yoongi can’t think straight. The guy has the audacity to grind forward to situate himself, and Yoongi gasps as he sees the tip of his cock push against the front of Yoongi’s stomach. “Oh my god.”


He reaches a hand down tentatively pushing against it, and they both groan in unison. The frustrated, surprise squeeze he gets on his cock at the same time is enough to have him cumming, gasping as he writhes with nowhere to go.


Every breath has him swallowing down coffee and chocolate, and it smells so good and heavy, so bitter with a tint of sweetness, that it’s making Yoongi hungry. He wants to revel in it, and unfortunately, once the post-orgasm calm settles in he realizes he can.


“Oh no.”


There’s steady breathing against his neck, then a lazy, “Hm?”


“Did you fucking knot me?”


What ? You asked me to!”


“Well - yeah but - now we’re stuck here.”


“Shouldn’t have asked, then.”


Yoongi frowns, having no excuse. He hangs his head again, tracing his finger over the slight bulge in his lower stomach. “Fuck.”


“Quit it, I’m sensitive.”


“Don’t be such a baby.” He rests his hands his hands on the sink for awhile, pulling his mouth to the side in the awkward silence that follows. “So…”


“So. I’m Namjoon.” The guy turns his hand to face Yoongi in an awkward handshake that Yoongi accepts before realizing it’s still covered in cum.


“Ugh.” He scrapes it on the edge of the sink and turns on the faucet to wash his hands, moving out of the way, trying not to let the hitch of breath be too audible when Namjoon pulls his arms in tight so he can wash his hands as well. “I’m Yoongi.”


“I don’t usually… do this. So I’m not actually sure what people usually do in this situation.”


“Uh, I’ve had hookups, but this is definitely a little different, so we’re both out of our depth on this one.” He shifts to adjust himself, and Namjoon lets out a strained mmph as he clenches his eyes shut. “Sorry. You’re kinda… big.”




“I didn’t say it was a good thing. Maybe it’s a bad thing. Now I can’t get comfortable on your stupid… monster dick.”


“Right. It’s a terrible thing.” Namjoon inhales sharply when he presses the heel of his palm down on his knot inside Yoongi one more time, and Yoongi bites his lip.


“Thought you were too sensitive.”


“Thought you hated my hentai level monster dick.”


“Stop - just stop saying things.”


“The only things I’m saying are the things you already said.”


“You are so fucking frustrating.”


Namjoon smiles sheepishly, like this isn’t the first time he’s heard this. Yoongi can make out the dimples in the reflection, even with the shitty fluorescent bathroom light, and he’s cute. God, he’s cute.


“So. Where you headed?”


“Hawaii - oh, you already know that. I just have some work to do there for my management company.”


“Yeah?” Yoongi pats the outside of Namjoon’s thigh until they’re both delicately shuffling over and he can prop his chin up with his elbow on the counter. He can’t see Namjoon anymore, but he can smell him and feel him and hear him, and that’s… nice. It’s nice. “What do you do?”


“Sales director, what about you?”


“Market research and analysis. Head of my department, too.”


“Oh, what’s your department?”


Yoongi pauses, trying not to laugh. “... Market research and analysis.”


“Oh. Right. You know, I’m usually pretty smart, I swear. I did become sales director through hard work and talent, not these good looks.”


“That’s admirable. I got entirely where I am based on my good looks.”


“I could see that.”


Yoongi turns to look at him incredulously over his shoulder, but he seems unfortunately sincere so Yoongi turns away to hide his blush. “You’re annoying.”


“You’re mean.”


“I’m - Sorry. Nervous.”


Namjoon’s hands run up and down his sides in a soothing pattern. “I was just messing with you. My friends are far worse, so you’re good. Plus they don’t let me fuck them, so you’re like… miles ahead of them in likability so far.”


“Always feels good to be a winner.”


They chat for a while, going from favorite kinds of music to food to random childhood memories, the kind of shit that you can only real-talk about with someone who’s forcibly attached to you for at least fifteen minutes. Yoongi finds him way more interesting after listening to him speak. He’s got a unique cadence where he’ll slow down as if he’s looking for the right word, but speed up and break in strange places because he gets overly excited about some things, and for the first time, Yoongi’s kind of… sad .


He smells good, he looks great, and he’s actually likable. Of course they’re strangers and bound to stay that way.


“Oh. I think it’s going down now.”


Yoongi perks up. “Oh, okay, so like as soon as you pull out, you need to leave.”




“Look, I’m not having you in here for the embarrassing after-effects. You pull out, you wipe off, and you get out. Cool?”


“Oh. Got it.” He leans over to lift the lid of the toilet up, probably to make it easier for Yoongi, but Yoongi groans and covers his face in shame.


“Stop. It’s embarrassing.”


“I mean, you say that, but that’s my cum and a lot of it, so I’m not too surprised by this turn of events.”


Namjoon does pull out eventually, shooed away quickly and viciously by Yoongi with barely any time to clean himself off, but when Yoongi eventually makes his way out of the bathroom and back to his seat, Namjoon doesn’t seem too upset about it. He gives Yoongi a quick smile, but his cheeks are deep red and he leans in to whisper against Yoongi’s ear. “I think the couple in the back row are very disappointed in us.”


Yoongi raises his eyebrows and leans into the aisle, looking back to see a woman glaring immediately in his direction. He gives her a tight-lipped smile and settles back in his seat. “Sucks. Probably just jealous,” he tries to play off his embarrassment.


Namjoon chuckles and reopens his forgotten book, while Yoongi finally plugs his headphones back in and brings up Hoseok’s story on his phone again, hopefully being able to concentrate better now that he’s not fucking leaking. He laments the underwear that currently sits in the airplane bathroom trashcan and the feeling of denim against his still-sensitive skin.


It’s nice, actually, for a while. It’s quiet and smooth, and Yoongi nearly forgets that Namjoon was knot-deep in him just an hour or two ago except for the comfortably sated feeling in his bones. Namjoon gets up to legitimately use the restroom at one point, and Yoongi quickly draws the flight attendant, asking for a particularly dark roast coffee. All they have is the standard, slightly watered down fare but Yoongi accepts the cup still, black with two sugars, in a poor imitation of what he actually wants.


If Namjoon has a comment about the coffee when he gets back, he keeps it to himself.


At some point Namjoon falls asleep, and Yoongi grits his teeth at the low rumble of snoring that comes through his headphones, so he turns up his music and continues reading until the smell of coffee strengthens and there’s a soft thump on his shoulder where Namjoon’s head now lays. It’s probably creepy - actually, it’s definitely creepy - when Yoongi downs his now lukewarm coffee and shifts in his seat, letting the familiar bitter smell roll over him as he closes his eyes.


With a few minutes of steady breathing and the weight of Namjoon on his shoulder, Yoongi’s asleep quickly enough. He’s sitting up in one of the most uncomfortable seats of all time, denim-on-dick contact, trapped inside a tin can at 40,000 feet, but Namjoon’s scent is like pulling a blanket over him and tucking him in, warm and soft and familiar. He groans into the feeling of it, like stretching out in a slept-in bed when you know you have plenty of time left before you need to get up. That feeling of burrowing back into the mattress, pulling the pillows close.


Sliding one between your thighs and gently grinding into it.


He turns in his sleep, and the smell of coffee is overwhelming. He opens his mouth to gasp it in, and he feels so good that it takes him embarrassingly long amount of time to realize he’s being shaken awake.


When his eyes finally force themselves open, Namjoon is staring down at him, and Yoongi’s body has the fucking audacity to tremble, pulling a whine out of his throat before he can do anything about it. Namjoon clamps a hand over his mouth, with deep red cheeks and looking around in a panic before he uses his other hand to pull out Yoongi’s headphones.


“You - your smell - I think you…”


And Yoongi realizes what he’s saying, and it hits him all at once, the way his cock pushes against the front of his jeans uncomfortably and he’s damp between his legs.


“Fuck. Oh my god.”


Namjoon nods. “You were - making noises… so I tried to wake you up. You’re a heavy sleeper, did you know that?”


“Fuck.” Yoongi sits up quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket and looking up and down the aisle to find that most people are also asleep by this point or buried in their own phones or books.


“Were you… dreaming?”


Yoongi’s head snaps back to look at Namjoon with a scowl. “ Shut up . If you didn’t shove your dry ass scalp directly into my olfactory receptors, this wouldn’t be a problem.”


Namjoon stifles his laugh in his hand. “You really like my smell that much.”


“I don’t - I don’t like it, it’s just -” How the fuck does he explain that he’s physically never been so attracted to an alpha’s scent in his life, and it’s more than just liking, and it’s more than just finding comfort, something in him out of his control physically craves it. “... really strong.”


“No one else seems to think it’s that strong.”


“Well everybody’s different,” Yoongi answers distractedly as Namjoon leans in again. “Look, guy.”


“Namjoon. My name, it’s Namjoon.”


“I know that, I didn’t hit my head on the way out of the bathroom.” Please stop licking your bottom lip, I am begging you.


“You smell… really strong too…”


Yoongi inhales sharply, wondering how he’s gonna get the mess out of his jeans now.


Ten minutes later, Namjoon sits on layers of toilet paper on top of the toilet lid while Yoongi sits firmly in his lap on his knot, simultaneously annoyed and content as he continues reading the story on his phone. Namjoon’s arms are around his waist because they have nowhere else to be, and Yoongi lets himself selfishly enjoy it for now.


“Do you knot every fuckin’ time?”


“Not usually, no.”


Yoongi takes a small pride in that. His good mood lasts for only a moment, halted immediately by a knock on the door, followed by a muffled, Sirs ? Yoongi blushes red hot, burying his face in his hand as Namjoon clears his throat.


“I’m - So sorry, please give us, um, like ten minutes? I’ve -” Namjoon clamps his mouth shut and buries his head against Yoongi’s back.


Oh .” The flight attendant says in understanding.  


Ten of the longest minutes of Yoongi’s life later, he sits on the toilet, chin propped on his palm, frowning in pure, pure, pure embarrassment as he catches snippets of Namjoon’s defense. Apparently, Yoongi is now Namjoon’s partner hit with an unexpected preheat that’s making him nearly insatiable - Yoongi has half a mind to open the door and punch him - but he should be fine for the remainder of the flight. No more coffee for him, though, please , Namjoon says.


Yoongi could kill him.


When he finally opens the bathroom door, Namjoon stands just outside, giving him two thumbs up and smiling. “We’re not barred from ever flying again! As long as we can control ourselves from now on.”


“Well at least I can get home after this, then. Good to know.”


Yoongi gives another, wider smile to the woman in the back row as he passes. “She hates us,” Yoongi whispers to Namjoon as they take their seats.


“For someone who hates us, she sure was extremely interested in listening to me talk to the flight attendant.”


“Fuck you for that, by the way. Always so easy to blame the omega.”


“Believe me, if I was in rut, they’d know.”


Yoongi flushes at the idea of Namjoon in rut, refusing to look up from his phone. “I’m gonna finish this. Thank you, for uh…” He vaguely waves his hand.


“My pleasure.”


“Stop.” Yoongi pulls the hood of his jacket up, zipping it all the way up to under his nose and nestling into his own smell for the remainder of the trip. He rereads the same section for the tenth time, trying to pick the plot back up again, all the while refusing to let himself breathe fresh air, instead stifling himself inside his hoodie. The torture ends years later it feels like, when the flight attendant’s soothing voice comes overhead announcing their descent and Yoongi puts his seatbelt back on.


The landing is bumpy again, and every deep breath brings a little more Namjoon in with it, but he can’t find it in him to complain because it’s the only thing that keeps him sane and calm. He grips his armrest and hums to himself, knowing he’s being overdramatic and trying to rationalize that if anything were to fail at this point, a crash landing at this height wouldn’t even be that bad. They’re already technically going down.


“So what were you reading?”


“What?” Yoongi looks at him, confused.


“The thing you kept reading on your phone, can I ask what it was?”


“Oh, just - my friend writes books but he’s doing a collection of short stories and I told him I’d proofread this and give some feedback.”


“How is it?” Namjoon wraps his own headphones around his phone and struggles to get under the seatbelt so he can put it in his pocket.


“It’s, uh - pretty good. Not really my favorite genre, a little too much mushy lovey dovey bullshit for my taste, but… cute. And well written. You should buy it when it comes out.”


“What’s his name? I’ll look him up.”


“Jung Hoseok, he’s got a few books -”


“Oh, no shit? I’ve read his stuff before, that’s really cool. Tell him you met a fan on your way to Hawaii.”


“Tell him I fucked a fan on my way to Hawaii.”


Namjoon smiles, the barest hint of a blush on his cheeks as the plane bumps into its landing and begins to brake. “Landed alive.”


Yoongi blinks. “Distraction method. Very clever.”


It takes a few more minutes before everyone begins shuffling to their feet, pulling their bags from overhead,  and filing out in a barely ordered manner. Yoongi and Namjoon hesitate - or maybe it’s just Yoongi - waiting to have more space to collect their things, and being reluctant to meet the flight attendant’s judging eye.


Namjoon walks slightly behind him, an awkward shuffle with his laptop bag and bookbag thrown over his shoulders, and Yoongi with a duffle bag bumping against his hip. Yoongi can’t help but blush when the omega flight attendant looks at him again with something a little worse than judgement instead, giving him a soft, pitying look when Namjoon rests his hand on the small of Yoongi’s back.


“Thank you again. We’re so, so sorry about that. Honestly, thank you so much for understanding.”


“You guys get somewhere safe, have a great day. Enjoy Hawaii if you can!”


Namjoon smiles for the both of them, rubbing his hand gently on Yoongi’s back as they step into the small corridor and head into the airport.


“How did you get her to believe that?”


“It was pretty easy, actually. You trying to get away from me and my scent, ordering coffee, the fact that you shamelessly had me knot you twice on public international transport.”


Namjoon’s hand is still on his back and Yoongi doesn’t want to broach the subject, but they’re heading toward the luggage pick-up and they can’t keep going together forever. Yoongi has a conference, Namjoon has whatever the fuck he has. It ends here.


He reaches forward to get his suitcase and frowns. “So. Was nice to meet you, Namjoon.”


“You, too.” He drags his own suitcase off the conveyor belt and turns to shake Yoongi’s hand. “Weird situation but a very cool story, for sure.”


“For sure.” Yoongi wants to smell him again. He hates that he wants that. He purses his lips in annoyance, the corners of his mouth tucking in, as he stands frozen in place until someone gently nudges behind him to get their own suitcase. He mutters an apology, tensing as Namjoon’s scent gets stronger in front of him and there’s suddenly a hand on his side.


“You’re not actually going into preheat are you? Because I could swear -”


“Shut the fuck up,” Yoongi nearly growls in embarrassment.


Namjoon moves them out of the way of people bustling around them, and leans down to speak much too close to his ear. “How - Can I -” He sighs. “Is it… bad etiquette to ask -”


“No, it’s good. Good etiquette.” Such a polite boy , Yoongi thinks as he drags his suitcase behind him to the nearest bathroom and Namjoon follows just a step behind. He should probably be embarrassed, out of everything he’s done so far, to walk to the furthest stall and put his suitcase just outside the door, well within sight from underneath the stall door. He should probably feel embarrassment, some sort of disgust, at putting his duffle bag on the closed toilet lid, but it’s better than the ground.


But he doesn’t. Instead, there’s an anxious pause, and Yoongi is tense and growing hard as he wrings his hands in anticipation because maybe he’s a little selfish and he absolutely wants one more time.


The bathroom smells clinically clean, like new sneakers or freshly unwrapped plastic, and Yoongi can’t fucking stand it, but once the bathroom quiets of footsteps and overly powerful hand-dryers, Namjoon’s outside the door and pushing it open softly. He closes it behind him, sliding the latch closed before he’s on Yoongi, grabbing him by the waist and pulling him in for what is technically their first kiss.


Yoongi hadn’t really thought about kissing him too much, honestly. He’d been more concerned with… other endeavors, but he can’t take back the soft moan that escapes when Namjoon’s hands grab his ass and pull him forward into a kiss that has Yoongi wrapping his arms around Namjoon’s neck.


“You really like the idea of public sex, huh?”


“Not really, just like the idea of fucking you.” Yoongi lets him graze his teeth along the line of Yoongi’s neck. “Unfortunately, the entirety of our interaction has - fuck,” he gasps when Namjoon bites just off-center, just not quite close enough to mate. Yoongi hates his body for wanting it so bad, but he can’t deny the full-body shiver he got in that moment.


Yoongi kicks off one shoe and steps on the hem of his jeans as he struggles to pull his leg out. “Come on, we don’t have all day, Namjoon.”


“God, I’d like to, I wouldn’t hate fucking you all day. I mean, we kinda already have.”


Yoongi thinks about Namjoon helping him through a heat and he hates his life a little bit more in that moment.


“You’re so wet, Yoongi, aren’t you worried about ruining another set of clothes, baby?”


Yoongi channels his sexual frustration into aggression, setting his jaw when he glares. “I hope your dick falls off after this.”


“Right. After this.”


“I’m pissy, not stupid. Fuck me.”


“Why don’t you say it a little louder so the whole airport can hear you?” But Namjoon grips the backs of his thighs and hoists him up, thudding his back against the wall. Yoongi wraps his legs around Namjoon’s waist, only slightly annoyed at having to put forth the effort while Namjoon uses one hand to line up so he can push in. The annoyance dies pretty quickly.


It’s different fucking face-to-face because now Yoongi can really see the stupid way that Namjoon’s jaw hangs slack, his fat bottom lip shining with spit, and the way he closes his eyes, drawing his eyebrows together in concentration. He looks ridiculous.


He looks cute.


Yoongi kisses him again even though it makes it harder for Namjoon to thrust. At least Namjoon has a common smell, something Yoongi can easily replicate once he gets home - not that it’s something he should do, chasing after an alpha’s smell with no relief is bound to drive him crazy and fuck up his heats, but something about it clicks in his gut and prickles the back of his neck.


“Stop presenting yourself.”


“Fuck, sorry, it - good -”


Namjoon laughs, a huff of breath against Yoongi’s neck, and his whole body shudders.


“Gonna miss how wet you get. No one’s ever been so messy for me.”


“Biology,” Yoongi reasons, only half catching himself when he bares his neck again. He growls in frustration, bringing his head upright again and burying his face in Namjoon’s neck.


“You’re not even in heat, Yoongi. Just want my bite that bad?”


“Want you to shut the fuck up.”


“Do you?” Namjoon stops, and Yoongi groans, trying to urge him to move, but Namjoon holds him still. “C’mon. Do you?”


Yoongi frowns. “What, you want me to beg?”


“A little. Will you?”




“Are you telling the truth or just being obstinate.”


“Truth.” Yoongi digs his heels in to try and force Namjoon to move. It doesn’t work.


“Would you beg in heat?”


Yoongi blushes bright red, and Namjoon gets his answer.


“Guess I’ll just have to imagine it, then.” He fucks into Yoongi almost ruthlessly, sliding him up the wall, and in the distant recess of Yoongi’s mind he thinks how utterly gross that is, but Namjoon’s cock slides in and out so easily, spreading him open and filling him up, and he arches his back off the wall, pushing his ass more flush with Namjoon’s hips. “Jerk yourself off.”


“No - no, wanna -”


“That’s romantic, but I can already tell I’m gonna knot again, so you need to cum or this is going to be embarrassing.”


“Ugh, can you not… knot? Can’t you just cum like a normal fucking person?”


Namjoon frowns and tries to balance Yoongi with one hand and jerk him off with the other, nearly dropping him or worse before Yoongi smacks his hand out of the way. Namjoon smiles in triumph, but truthfully, Yoongi doesn’t feel too bad about losing this time as he works his own cock and lets Namjoon suck hickey after bruise after hickey along his neck. In this moment, he couldn’t give a shit less about how tight he’s gonna have to wear his tie or how high he’s gonna have to pull his collar because he feels so good. He doesn’t realize he’s whispering please over and over until Namjoon’s voice is in his ear, telling him - sounds even better than I imagined .


He cums a second later, biting Namjoon’s shoulder and twitching as he rides out his orgasm. He tries to catch most of it, and luckily there’s not much this time, but it still manages to drip down his shaft, sticky and verging on uncomfortable and exactly the way Yoongi likes it.


“Fuck,” he breathes. “Fuck.”


Namjoon stills a moment later. “I won’t knot you again because you have places to be, but I really want you to know that I absolutely wish I could.” He grabs Yoongi’s bag quickly and drops it on the floor instead. “Since you had your fair share of embarrassment so far today, it only feels fair -” He pulls out and lowers Yoongi to the ground on shaky legs. He takes a moment before leaning in one last time to kiss him.


Yoongi tries real hard not to be sentimental about it.


It’s a little easier when he watches Namjoon jerk himself off with hunched shoulders and a lazily curled hand, until he begins to swell and drip streams of cum into the toilet. Yoongi awkwardly reaches for toilet paper, cleaning off the cum and slick between his legs, and drops it into the same toilet where Namjoon still stands holding his knot.


“You could at least pretend to not be judging me right now.”


“I could.” Yoongi instead reaches out a hand and drags a finger across up the length of Namjoon’s cock, making him shudder and sputter. Yoongi frowns in disappointment, already missing it, and struggles to pull his jeans back up in the small stall. “I gotta…”


“No, no, it’s cool. I figured you wouldn’t stand here while I… suffer. Um, ignore this,” he gestures vaguely to his dick and his current situation, “but it was really. Really nice. So. Thank you? Sorry this ended so weird.”


“It’s fine. It’s not too weird.” Yoongi reaches down to get his bag, only feeling disappointed at the waste of cum. “Uh… Bye? Forever, I guess?”


Namjoon frowns. “Yeah, I guess. Nice meeting you.”


“Yep.” Yoongi stands for a moment. “Um.” He darts in one more time for a kiss that Namjoon doesn’t even have time to reciprocate before Yoongi is pulling away and opening the door just enough to get out. Namjoon closes and locks the stall behind him and Yoongi drops the bag momentarily so he can wash his hands again before gathering all his luggage and leaving.


Every step feels heavier than the last, and he stops at Starbucks on his way out of the airport.


He spends the cab ride to the hotel watching the scenery pass by and thinking about how utterly stupid he is. It’s the 21st century, he could’ve gotten a number or a twitter or a skype - god, he tries not to picture jerking off on camera for Namjoon. He frowns ever deeper, a perpetual look for him, as he brings the coffee to his lips.


He pays the cab driver, shuffles dejectedly through check-in, up the stairs, and into his room that’s nice enough on the company’s dime, then lets his hand hover on the bathroom door for a moment. He wants to shower. He really does. It’s calming and cleansing after flying, but Namjoon’s scent is all over him, and he’s not quite ready to lose it yet. He lets his hand drop and strips out of his jeans and puts on a pair of boxers, turning the air conditioning down low as he sets an alarm and climbs into bed, letting the minor jet lag hit him full force.


He sleeps like the dead and wakes up much the same way.


He cracks his eyes open into the dark cold of the hotel room, snug and comfortable in his shirt, hoodie, sheet, and blanket, and he doesn’t wanna get up yet. He reaches to check his phone, realizing he’d never turned off airplane mode. Jimin probably thinks he’s dead. Taehyung probably thinks he ran away. Jin’s probably busy consoling both.


He turns off airplane mode, turns on do not disturb, then rolls back over and goes to sleep until his alarm can wake him.


He wakes up again, hours later, just as stiff and twice as sore now. He reluctantly stands, stretching to the extent that his body will let him before he falls back down on the bed and curls around his phone. Jimin and Taehyung, crying. Jin, begging him to answer his phone before they accidentally burn down the office.


Yoongi smiles and sends a text to the groupchat. He deliberates a really long time before deciding that just this once, for the first and last time in his life, he will give them all something to talk about. A token of goodwill since he disappeared for nearly 24 straight hours.


Landed alive. Joined the mile high club. Gotta get ready for the conference now :]


All three response bubbles pop up at once, and he locks his phone so he doesn’t have to deal with it yet.


He inhales with his hoodie pressed against his nose before pulling it overhead and dropping it on the messy bed. The shower is nice. The unscented soap is disappointing. He steps out, and goes through his routine silently, trying very hard not to think about a tall man with a cute smile and pretty hands as he watches himself brush his teeth in the bathroom mirror.


Yoongi shrugs into his suit jacket, deciding against a tie because fuck it, he doesn’t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable chair in an even more uncomfortable suit for several hours today just for some stupid management company expansion meeting. Sharing tips and tricks to expand their chains of hotels and luxury clubs, how to pull in demographics they haven’t been able to figure out how to reach yet. Ah, the ever elusive Millennial. Why don’t they travel more? Why are club numbers so low?


Yoongi rolls his eyes thinking about every meeting he’s sat through in the past two years at his job, trying to explain we’re broke only to get disbelief in response.


He’s not even broke anymore, but he still lives in the broke mindset. He gets an almost childish glee from the fact that breakfast is included in his stay, and takes a seat at a table in the hotel dining area.


“Coffee, sir?”


Yoongi nods. “Do you guys have, um… like a really dark roast coffee?”


“Um…” the waitress tilts back to look toward the kitchen. “We have robust, which is darker, if that counts?”


Yoongi smiles. “Yeah, that sounds much better, thanks.”


He eats slowly, reluctant to go listen to a bunch of people drone on for hours about marketing. He’s good at it, there is actually a reason he’s the head of his department, but that doesn’t mean he’s particularly passionate about it, so he savors a big breakfast and lets his thoughts drift. His coffee cup is halfway to his mouth, when he finds himself thinking again about getting knotted from behind - but vaguely, just blurred memories, so he doesn’t get out of control - and he smells it.


He sits up sharply and scans the room. It was Namjoon, like he’s one thousand percent sure it was Namjoon’s scent, but he doesn’t see him anywhere. He spins in his seat and checks the lobby behind him, but no sign of him there either. He doesn’t hope, writes it off as being some sort of sensory memory, and really it’s his fault for daydreaming, but it still hurts a little as he settles back down and sips on the poor replacement in his cup.


He leaves a couple dollars on the table for the waitress and sighs, heading toward the large ballroom at the end where he can already see through the door a shit ton of rinky dink metal legged chairs set up with a stage and projector screen.


Yoongi mills around for a moment, getting a bottle of water to battle the amount of coffee he’s had in the past day, before taking a seat near the back middle.


Thank you all for being here , the guy says, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. He goes where the company sends him. Everyone was so jealous that he got to go to Hawaii but he literally gets one free day before he has to head back home, so while he’s not ungrateful, he’s also not all that excited.


Plane trip alone might have made it worth it, though, honestly.


He’s staring off at the empty tables to the side,  hands clasped over his crossed knees, already imagining lunch, when there’s gentle clapping. It drowns out and there’s fumbling with the microphone as the lights dim a little and the screen is lit up with a PowerPoint presentation.


“Thank you.”


Yoongi’s attention snaps forward almost immediately. “Oh my god.”


“My name is Kim Namjoon, and today I’ll be talking about oh my god.” Namjoon’s eyes widen when he sees Yoongi raise his hand softly and wave. It takes him a moment to look away, his face much redder than it was before, and Yoongi’s getting a few stares in response, but Namjoon apologizes for the stumble and continues onward.


Namjoon - is here . Namjoon is sales. Namjoon and Yoongi are… complete idiots. Namjoon is sales , Yoongi is market research which feeds into sales . Both on a business trip. Yoongi could die in his seat if he weren’t already thinking about the possibilities. Namjoon manages to trip his way through his presentation, an actually useful guide to making hotels more palatable to millenials, and Yoongi thinks he might verifiably be in love because those are the exact ideas he’d had before too.


He scrunches his nose. Love is an exaggeration, but he feels uncomfortable exaggerating with how closely his feelings already resemble like . He doesn’t even know this guy.


Yoongi frowns.


He’s definitely… gonna be slightly mean to him later, possibly.


He claps gently as Namjoon wraps up his powerpoint and walks off the stage, down to where another kid is holding a seat for him. Namjoon turns around quickly, and his eyebrows pull together in confusion as he looks directly back at Yoongi. Yoongi has no other response other than to throw his hands up in equal parts confusion. He motions back to the stage for Namjoon to pay attention, laughing to himself when Namjoon rolls his eyes and turns around.


Sometime during the middle of the third speaker, Yoongi notices the hotel staff sneak in and begin setting up the lunch bar, and his heart soars.


He’s the first one out of his seat when lunch is announced, and he fills his plate up, wandering over to the next ballroom over where tables have been arranged. He’s already halfway through eating, having glared at anyone who got near his table, when Namjoon finally makes his way through the door, only looking around a moment before finding Yoongi again. He smiles and turns to speak over his shoulder to the guy behind him, leading them both to Yoongi’s table.




“Hey.” Yoongi fights a blush when Namjoon takes the seat next to him, and the frown that comes after when he pulls it away a little further away before sitting down. In the commotion and the crowd, Yoongi can’t really smell him, and it’s driving him crazy.


“Hi!” A third voice adds.


“Oh, Yoongi, this is Jungkook. Jungkook, Yoongi. My seat neighbor on the way over.”


“Oh shit, cool coincidence.”


“You could say that,” Yoongi says, stabbing a braised potato.


“What are you doing here?”


“Our director of sales is out pregnant, and I’m the only who works closest with her, and I’m head of my department -”


“Of course, how could I forget,” Namjoon nods with a smile.


“Shut up,” but Yoongi shoves a three small potatoes in his mouth at once. “How do you guys…” He waves his fork between Namjoon and Jungkook.


“I trained him before he transferred to another district, but we found out we were both coming here.”


“Oh, that’s actually… pretty cool.” Yoongi nods. “You’ve got lots of friends lots of places, Joon.”


Namjoon raises an eyebrow. “Joon?”


“Damn, nevermind then.”


“No, no, it’s cute, I like it.”


Jungkook looks between the two of them, realization dawning on him a moment later as he instead chooses to laser-focus on his meal. Yoongi wants to ask Namjoon about the airport, if he missed Yoongi as he stood over a public restroom toilet dripping cum, or maybe later, when he was climbing in bed did he miss Yoongi’s smell like Namjoon missed his.


Namjoon’s eyes narrow slightly. “Yoongi.”




“Whatever you’re daydreaming about, you probably shouldn’t.”


Yoongi blinks. “How did you - I feel… fine…” Not wet , he means.


“You smell strong . I can smell you from here.”


“Well that’s not really my fault, is it.”


“No, but - You might not be -” Namjoon tilts his head in place of a word, “but that doesn’t mean you’re not making it - difficult.”


“Again, not my fault. Jungkook seems fine.”


“Jungkook’s a beta, Jungkook is fine.”


“Don’t bring me into this.” Jungkook huddles over his plate and turns away.


Namjoon flicks the back of his ear in retaliation. “Useless.” He directs his attention back to Yoongi.  His gaze changes a little before he’s scooting his chair closer inch by inch until he’s barely too close, and Yoongi can finally really smell him, and it’s so much , it’s better and warmer and fuller, and Yoongi wants to bury his face in the scent, and -


“You asshole,” Yoongi grits his teeth as Namjoon smiles, grins , wide and triumphant. “I was fine .”


“Well, I wasn’t, so get on my level.”


“You’re not the one -” Yoongi lowers his voice, “leaking from his asshole right now.”


“Please, I love it when my partner talks all dirty.”


“I’m not your partner.”


“Not yet. Or… maybe I should say you already were? What’s the rules on this?” Namjoon swallows and Yoongi follows the movement with his gaze.






Yoongi looks up from his throat to his lips to his eyes. “You said not yet.”


“I’m leaving,” Jungkook states loudly, taking his empty plate with him. Namjoon barely gives him a glance before turning back to Yoongi, and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees and let his fingers turn Yoongi’s hand palm-up.


“You’re being… extremely forward.” Yoongi tries desperately not to choke on his own spit.


“Well, there’s only 45 minutes left for lunch so…”




“So I usually knot for fifteen, but you already know that.”


“Shut the fuck up,” comes out all at once, in a burst of air like Namjoon had just punched him in the gut.


“I’m just saying we’re wasting really valuable time right now.”


“Everyone’s gonna know why we left.”


“It’s possible, but also they’ll be here while we’ll be… not here.”


Yoongi hums like he’s considering it, like he isn’t already mentally ten minutes in the future on his hands and knees already. He takes another bite and mulls it over, watching Namjoon’s face as he raises a glass of water to his lips. “Not sure I’m willing to get fired for you.”


“We won’t if you hurry up.”


Yoongi sighs as if the whole thing is a burden, as if Namjoon isn’t the #1 thing he wants to do today, as if he isn’t sitting slick between the thighs right now. He only brought so many pairs of underwear, honestly. So he sets his glass down, he puts his napkin on his empty plate, and he pushes his chair back, struggling slightly on the shorthair carpet. Namjoon laughs at him a little, but Yoongi refuses to look at him, instead leading the way quietly out of the banquet room and back into the lobby.


“You’re walking kinda fast.”


“Subconsciously trying to get away from you.”


“Too bad we’re going to the same place.”


“Who knows, I might slam the door in your face still. It’s a long walk.”


Namjoon watches him as they step onto the elevator. “Does alpha strength intimidate or impress you?”


“Neither, it exasperates me. We work in hospitality and sales, you’re not some brute and I’m not… whatever is attracted to a brute. I don’t know.”


Namjoon smiles, sliding immediately behind Yoongi and letting his hand rest on Yoongi’s waist as they continue toward his room. “So you weren’t impressed when I fucked you up against the wall, huh?”


Yoongi swallows, pausing in front of his door as he struggles to get his room key out of his pocket. “God damn it…”


“Having problems?”


“Yes, you’re getting on my nerves,” Yoongi snaps, immediately regretting it. He doesn’t want Namjoon to hate him, he doesn’t want him to leave, but he’s reaching a point where he can’t quite think straight and it’s not exactly fair. Namjoon doesn’t turn and leave though because a moment later, Namjoon’s fingers wrap around Yoongi’s hand and pull the card away. Yoongi wants to be proud, mad that Namjoon’s treating him like a child, but Namjoon’s chest is flush against Yoongi’s back, and his arm is around his waist, and he’s effortlessly unlocking the door and opening it before slipping the key back in Yoongi’s pocket.


“Come on, baby.”


Yoongi bites back his objection and accepts the blush on his cheeks.


As soon as the door latches shut, Namjoon has him turned around and is shoving at the suit jacket until it falls on the floor and Yoongi’s stumbling backward over it. Yoongi tries valiantly to lose his shoes and socks at the same time that he’s unbuttoning his dress shirt, and Namjoon nearly headbutts him in his rush to unbuckle his belt.




“Kinda funny we can fuck in three square feet, but can’t manage to navigate in an entire hotel room.”


It does actually make Yoongi laugh a little, and Namjoon catches him off-guard a moment later when he ducks in for a kiss, and it feels like a whole other level of satisfaction. As the amount of clothes between them becomes less, the prickling feeling under Yoongi’s skin heightens and keeps him warm.


“I thought about you. Couldn’t jerk off again, but I really wanted to, if that counts for anything.” Namjoon removes Yoongi’s last piece of clothing, a pair of boxer briefs that sticks to the slick on his thighs as Namjoon drags a nail up the inside soft skin between Yoongi’s legs until it slips under the hem to peel the cloth off. “God… Either no one’s ever wanted me like you do, or everyone else is just really good at hiding it.”


“I obviously - wear my heart on my sleeve -” Yoongi gasps when Namjoon gently shoves him onto the mattress, grabbing his thighs and pulling him down the bed until his ass is flush with the edge and Namjoon is dropping to his knees. “What are you -”


Namjoon answers with a broad lick on the inside of Yoongi’s thigh, taking a stripe of slick with him. “I cannot… believe… you literally taste like dark chocolate.”


Yoongi digs a hand into Namjoon’s hair as his mouth moves further inward, and manages a small little laugh. “No one’s ever said that.”


Namjoon only hums a sound of surprise, as he pushes up the back of Yoongi’s thighs.


“Taste is - taste is - partly smell? So maybe - ah - oh god - Joon , please,” Yoongi can’t help but whine as Namjoon’s tongue curls and pushes inside him. He sucks the rim before rolling his tongue back inside as he digs his nails into the meat of Yoongi’s thighs. “ Please -” Yoongi doesn’t quite know what he’s asking for. As much as he wants more, he already feels so good.


Namjoon pulls back a moment to kiss the inside of Yoongi’s thigh. “I mean, I hate to call you a liar, but I thought you didn’t beg.”


Yoongi has a thousand different insults resting on the tip of his tongue, but they’re all silenced when Namjoon darts up to kiss him. It should be disgusting, but Namjoon’s skilled with his tongue, and eager to please as he wraps his hands around Yoongi’s waist and drags him up the bed.


“I can’t - I can’t taste it, it doesn’t taste like anything.” All Yoongi can smell, the only thing he gets every time he inhales, is Namjoon’s scent, and it makes him hungry in so many ways.


“I promise it’s so good, I knew you’d taste good. Wanted to eat you out so bad yesterday. You were so fucking messy,” Namjoon finally takes off his own slacks and underwear and suddenly they’re both a lot less frantic and a lot more nervous as Namjoon settles above him.


“Um,” Yoongi lays frozen with his hands on his stomach. “Not to sound like a 45 year old housewife but can we get under the covers? It’s really cold…”


Namjoon laughs, loud and obnoxious, and it makes the edges of Yoongi’s lips pull tight in a wide smile. “All these little demands, we’re running out of time, Yoongs.”


“Well I guess you better hurry up, then.”


“You know, that’s actually the first time someone told me to hurry up and cum. God, do you ever like, transcend to another spiritual and religious level when you feel cold hotel sheets?”


“Fuck yes, what is it about hotel beds?”


“I have no idea but I wanna ruin this one with you.”


“Oh, very smooth.”


“Kinda like your thighs.”


Yoongi shivers even under the covers when Namjoon leans in close and slides his hand between Yoongi’s legs, rolling partially on top of him and sliding two fingers inside him. He pushes and crooks them until Yoongi’s breath picks up, stretching out into a whine when Namjoon manages to find his prostate, gently massaging it as he props himself up to watch the change on Yoongi’s face.


“I thought we were running out of time,” Yoongi manages as he squirms under Namjoon’s hands.


“I’m your typical selfish alpha, sorry. I highly doubt they’ll fire me for being a few minutes late.” He pauses, looking off in the distance before shrugging and continuing anyway. He stays with two fingers, rubbing them in circles, pushing in lightly then pulling back as he moves, and Yoongi’s legs shake as he tries to keep holding them open. “You are so wet, Yoongi, Jesus. Does it feel that good?” He pauses, and a moment later his voice is softer and closer, his breath ghosting past Yoongi’s ear when he asks, “Did you miss me that much?”


Yoongi opens his eyes into a glare. “I just met you yesterday.”


“But that doesn’t answer the question, does it?” Namjoon pushes Yoongi’s legs further apart and situates himself between them on his knees, pulling his fingers out and using Yoongi’s slick to slide his hand from the base of his cock until he’s mixing it with the precum that gathers at the head.


“Time,” Yoongi reminds, even though he can’t take his eyes off the way the tip pushes between Namjoon’s fingers as he toys with himself.


“We’ll pick this conversation up later, then.”


Yoongi agrees as he lets Namjoon lift his thighs and push them toward his chest. “Fuck. Later.”


Namjoon lines up and pushes in, in an all too familiar way that makes them both groan in contentment. He doesn’t waste any time settling in, instead pushing in fully and setting a rhythm immediately.


It’s so strange, it was a day ago, only one day, but Yoongi can’t believe he really had missed Namjoon as much as he did. He wraps his arms around Namjoon’s shoulders and drags him down, burying his face in Namjoon’s shoulder and whining with every thrust, whining in a way that he absolutely hates, but Namjoon smells so good, and feels so good. Everything just - works. All the pieces, they just slot together so right, and it has Yoongi’s mind feeling a little hazy.


He’s never particularly liked sex, actually.


Honestly sort of hated his body for telling him what he needed and punishing for not getting it.


Right now though, in his momentary haze, he doesn’t hate the way his body makes way for Namjoon. He doesn’t cringe at the squelch every time Namjoon thrusts in, and he loves every point where Namjoon’s skin touches his.


“Hey, you okay?”




Namjoon pulls back to look at him. “You’re weirdly quiet. Is it - not good? Do you actually need the public sex aspect to enjoy it?” He tries to laugh but Yoongi can see the crease of worry on his brow.


Yoongi takes a breath. “I hate to inflate your ego, but I’m willing to beg you to keep going right now.”


“You sure?”


Yoongi nods. “You like it when your partner makes noise?”


“I like it when you make noise. I want you to feel good. Do you?”


“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” He swallows. He feels way too vulnerable when he manages to speak the truth, he always has. “Or at least I would if you kept moving.”


Namjoon smiles again, just as beautiful as ever, and leans down to kiss Yoongi as he begins moving again, fucking him far too slowly for Yoongi to get any satisfaction. But he loves it. It’s not hungry like the airplane, or desperate like the airport, and it’s a little too self-indulgent for the schedule they’re on right now, but Namjoon’s getting his teeth dangerously close the the crux of Yoongi’s neck, pressing, playing, but not claiming, and it’s driving Yoongi crazy.


He wants to ask. He wants to beg for it. He starts to, but Namjoon draws his lips up, back to Yoongi’s mouth. Namjoon’s hand surprises him when he wraps around his shaft and begins moving.


“Don’t think I forgot about your messy boy fixation.”


“Stop,” Yoongi manages to blush at the memory, but Namjoon’s watching the change on his face.


“Sorry, I know you wanted me to call you messy man . Fucking wet and dripping for me, making such a mess, Yoongi.” Namjoon tsks and it goes straight to Yoongi’s gut. “Making a mess all for me, right, baby?”


“Fuck - you -”


Namjoon’s hands shift to Yoongi’s sides, nails digging into his skin as he begins pulling him down to meet every thrust. If he was trying to draw noise out of Yoongi, it’s certainly working, pushing low grunts from the bottom of his throat as he grips the pillow behind him. “You smell so good, fucking hell, Yoongi, do you even know .”


He does know. Namjoon’s scent is so heavy Yoongi can feel it on his tongue, and for the first time he can faintly smell his own bitter heady chocolate mixed in, and they smell so good together that it makes Yoongi let out an uncharacteristic sob. He wants, he wants it, and he can’t - doesn’t - stop himself from turning his head and stretching his neck out. It’s possibly, literally, the most irresponsible thing he’s ever done, and he’s made several irresponsible decisions in his life. But he thinks about how good it’d feel if Namjoon’s teeth dug in and broke skin, marking him and scenting him and claiming him.


“Fuck, you can’t do that, I can only say no so many times.”


He knows Namjoon’s right, they shouldn’t mate unless they’re in love, stable, together, healthy. Not strangers in a hotel room. So why, he wonders, does it hurt his feelings so much when Namjoon rejects him. He brings his hand down quickly, covering his neck and muttering an apology.


“Hey, don’t do that.”


“Do what.”


Namjoon brings one hand to the other side of Yoongi’s neck, and uses the other hand to expose his skin again, pulling Yoongi’s hand away and pinning it to the mattress as he sucks a bruise against his pulse. “Don’t be mad. Don’t think I don’t like you.”


Yoongi doesn’t mean to cum, but Namjoon thrusts in at the same time that his teeth press down hard, and Yoongi’s body clenches in anticipation.


“So pretty,” Namjoon mutters against his skin. “Got cum all over yourself. Fucking mess.” His tone drops, a little sharp and mean at the end, and Yoongi inhales sharply. He wonders if it’s something they’ll explore more later.


Later. Again. Fuck, after the conference ends for the day. Yoongi looks at the clock, recognizing that they only have about ten minutes before lunch ends. They’ll definitely be late, but better late than never.


“Come on, Joon, knot me for real this time.”


“I thought about this,” Namjoon speaks softly, like he doesn’t need Yoongi to hear it as he pushes himself back up onto his knees. “Wanted to get you in a bed so bad, instead of those gross fucking bathrooms.”


Yoongi had wanted the same. He wants to stop having the same idea as Namjoon.


Namjoon puts Yoongi’s legs against his chest, holding onto his waist again as he chases his own orgasm. Yoongi shifts in oversensitivity and lets out an ah when Namjoon grazes his prostate again, it’s too tender, but it’s not long before Namjoon is losing his rhythm and getting close.


“Oh no.”


“Oh no?”


“I’m - cumming,” Namjoon raises his eyebrows in panic.


“Yeah, that’s sort of the point.”


“No, I’m -” He gasps, letting Yoongi’s legs drop as he falls onto his hands and thrusts lightly to ride it out.


It takes a moment for Yoongi to realize. “Are you fucking kidding me?”


“I know, I’m sorry!”


“The whole point was the knot, Namjoon.”


“I can’t knot every single fucking time! I’m not a machine, Yoongi.”


“I gave you a whole day to recover -”


“You gave me, like you made the conscious decision -”


“Well, I guess we just have to back like normal fucking people, now.”


“That is the opposite of what this means. Give me like ten minutes and we’re doing this again.”


Yoongi raises his eyebrow. “If you didn’t knot the first time, why do you think you will the second time?”


“I was nervous, okay?”


“Are you sure you’re not more nervous now after arguing?”


“No, I want to fuck you even more but my stupid dick won’t cooperate, so we’re gonna wait it out. Understand?”


“You wanna get in trouble just to prove how good of an alpha you are?”


“Oh my god, we’re in Hawaii, this isn’t work, this is a corporate circlejerk. I’d rather skip the corporate circle part and skip right to the jerking if you don’t mind.”


Yoongi hadn’t realized he was fighting a smile as Namjoon was talking, but Namjoon smiled back.


“You think I’m hilarious.”


“I think you’re a trainwreck.”


“You let a trainwreck fuck you.”


“Yes, I did.”


Namjoon chuckles and pulls out, slipping out of the covers much to Yoongi’s annoyance and coming back with a warm washcloth. He hands it over, and Yoongi thanks him for saving at least a little of Yoongi’s pride. “Sex is so gross.”


“God, absolutely.” He hides himself under the cover as he cleans between his legs. “I feel like I have it a little worse, though.”


“No, I can definitely agree to that.”


Yoongi blushes, hesitantly handing back the rag. “Um… can you get me another one?”


Namjoon nods, taking it and coming back with a fresh one so Yoongi can finish while Namjoon stands awkwardly to the side, looking anywhere else.






“Yeah, thanks. You may lay with me now.”


“Oh, may I? Are you sure you’re not asking me to?” But Namjoon still lifts the blanket and slides across the mattress, instinctively wrapping his arm and leg over Yoongi’s body.


“Oh my god, you’re clingy.”


“Yes.” He pulls Yoongi impossibly close to him, and his scent is a little different now, a little muted and soft like he’s not trying to overpower Yoongi, but lull him to sleep. Yoongi can’t help but turn - rolling onto his side with a struggle from how heavy Namjoon’s limbs are - so he can bury his nose in it. He’s so sleepy and mindless in the moments after sex, he doesn’t stop himself from nuzzling against Namjoon’s neck, trying to take it, keep a part of that smell for himself, and maybe leave something of himself behind.


Namjoon’s hand appears on his cheek, and Yoongi’s embarrassed for a moment, thinking he’s asking him to stop, before Namjoon guides his face up until they can kiss again. It hurts.


It’s soft and slow and a little too tender, and Yoongi hurts. “You know what really fucking sucks?”


Namjoon hums. “Is it the concept of time and space itself?”


“Basically.” Yoongi rolls to lay on his back again, staring at the ceiling in annoyance. “Thanks for like… not mating me, mid-fuck. I really appreciate that.”


“Honest to god, that might have been the most self-restraint and patience I have ever had, and one time I won one of those car things where you have to be the last person touching the car to win it. Took me like two days. I was literally dehydrated by the end.”


“Oh shit, you won a car?”


“Yeah! I still drive it actually.”


“That’s something you don’t hear everyday. Best thing I ever won was the office coloring contest - don’t ask, it was my coworkers’ idea - and that’s only because I cheated. In my defense, I wanted to win the most, so.”


“What’d you win?”


“Gift card to the fast food place of my choice.” He remembers the anger on Jin’s face as he tried to convince their boss he cheated, and how it had gotten worse when he was chastised for being a sore loser. The hamburger he got in apology did nothing to temper his rage.


“Fuckin’ worth it.”


“Absolutely agree.” He tries to steady his breathing as Namjoon absentmindedly traces the line of his bottom rib with his thumb. “I think I like you, and that feels like shit.”


Namjoon isn’t surprised by the thought. “Y’know, I was kinda feeling the same way, and I was thinking about it a little, you know, once I was able to think straight without your ass drawing my attention -”


“Shut up.”


“- and I mean. We used the same airport so worst case scenario, we’re only a few hours from each other? I didn’t want to say anything and seem like that hookup, like the immediately super-clingy one -”


“You say that, but I literally can’t breathe right from your octopus grip.”


“- but I guess it just feels. Um. Different or whatever.”


Yoongi swallows. “Or whatever.” He knows what whatever is, he knows exactly what they haven’t mentioned. The stronger scents, the incessant need that worked its way under their skin, the way Yoongi wanted to be claimed so bad he almost forced Namjoon’s hand. A mate in the traditional sense. A lot of people mate as a verb - marriage or best friends or accidental hookups and suddenly you’re tied to each other forever - but Yoongi remembers it as a noun. A mate, his mate - and he’d been trying really fucking hard not to remember that.


Namjoon had done the right thing refusing to claim him in the heat of the moment, but Yoongi feels it in his gut that even if he had, Yoongi couldn’t bring himself to be too upset about it.


“So, what district are you actually from?”


“Northeast. You know Manager  Minseok?”


Yoongi turns to him quickly. “Are you serious? That’s right next to my district.”


“Well, that could still be a few hours away depending on where we both live.”


Turns out, it’s not. Turns out, actually, that Kim Namjoon, Director of Sales, lives exactly one hour and thirteen minutes away from Min Yoongi, Head of the Department of Market Research and Analysis. Turns out that Yoongi ends up slinging his leg across Namjoon’s waist and bending down to kiss him until they can’t breathe and Yoongi can feel Namjoon half-hard underneath him.


“That is extremely convenient,” Namjoon muses when Yoongi’s mouth travels down Namjoon’s chest instead.


“No, extremely convenient would be the same apartment complex. Barely convenient is what we got.” But he’ll take it graciously. An hour away is weekends together. An hour away is someone to help him through his heats. He looks up at Namjoon as he slides down between Namjoon’s legs and wraps a hand around his cock, still slightly soft. He feels good, less weighed down and more excited about possibilities, and he smiles to himself before tracing the tip of his tongue on the underside of the head.


Namjoon’s hand rests on his stomach, flexing and tensing when Yoongi sucks the tip in gently. He works his way down, inch by inch, relishing the way that he can feel Namjoon get harder in his mouth.


There’s a faint buzzing sound that they both try to ignore before Yoongi sighs, pulling back and sliding off the bed, patting around his slacks then Namjoon’s before he can find the offending phone. “Yours,” he says as he tosses it. Namjoon curls up instinctively, saving himself from getting an iphone to the dick, and doesn’t manage to answer it in time.


“It was Jungkook. Probably wondering where we are, if we’re coming back anytime soon.”


“Are we?”


“I would hope not at this point. Come here.”


Yoongi does, shuffling onto the bed on his knees and straddling Namjoon’s stomach.


“Close, but just like - a little lower.”


“No shit. Hold on.” Yoongi takes his time, sitting flush against Namjoon’s pelvis, ignoring the way his slick makes their skin tacky between them. He drags his blunt nails down the length of Namjoon’s chest, a little soft and a little broad, and he likes the way Namjoon shudders softly beneath him. “You’re pretty attractive.”


“I had some inclination, actually, what with the way you keep getting hard for me and everything.”


“You’re so… attractive… until you open your mouth.”


“Don’t be rude -” Namjoon lets out an mmph when Yoongi leans down quickly to kiss him. He doesn’t fight it, just lets Yoongi’s tongue slide into his mouth and work its way around as one of Yoongi’s hands rests on his chest and the other reaches behind him and wraps around Namjoon’s dick.


He pulls back reluctantly, leaning down one more time for another shorter kiss before finally sitting back and sinking down to rest with Namjoon’s cock inside him.


“Can I ask a personal question?”


“I mean, you’re already at least six inches inside me, so -”


“Six inches? Fuck you, I’m a solid eight and that doesn’t include knotting.”


“Chill out, alpha dog, your dick is plenty big. Ask your stupid question.”


“Um, this sounds - I’m not trying to be rude - has anyone ever called you um, well.”


“Oh my god, are you okay? Just spit it out.”




Yoongi’s fist immediately makes minor contact with Namjoon’s chest. “Offensive.”


“Ah! My tiddy! I was just asking!”


“Why, do I seem like one?”


“I mean the only thing that makes someone seem like one is like… loving knots and you seem,” Namjoon motions his hand vaguely.


Yoongi tries not to think about all the times Jin specifically has called him that through his heats and made him beg for it. He’s sure Namjoon will that side of him soon enough. His next heat is just a few months out anyway. “Maybe if I like you more, we’ll talk about it.”


“No, no. We don’t have to. I’m not like, super into dynamics and shit. I’m not really into calling people names. Except baby, you seem to like that one.”


Yoongi can’t help but blush. “Shut up.”


“To which I respond with the requisite make me ,” Namjoon smiles as his fingers dance up Yoongi’s thighs to come to rest on his hips. Yoongi gasps and frowns when Namjoon bucks up, forcing Yoongi’s hands to land on either side of Namjoon’s head. “I’m gonna fuck you.”




“And then I’m gonna knot you?”


“How is that a question. Yes, you’re gonna knot me.”




“Just move, dumbass.”


Namjoon frowns a little.


“Sorry, you’re not a dumbass. You’re very smart. Please move your penis.”


Namjoon continues to pout. “I am smart.”


“You are. I like you a lot.” Yoongi begins to whine. “Can you please move?”


“I don’t know, I kinda like this. Would you beg?”


“Well, now I won’t.”


“You did last time. It sounded so pretty, baby.”


It’s like a twist in his gut every time Namjoon uses that against him. He hates how easy he is.


“Will you beg just a little for me?”


“... Please move, I’m now literally begging you.”


Namjoon raises an eyebrow at what they both know was a pisspoor attempt.


“Namjoon, please fuck me. And knot me. Cum inside me, yada yada yada.”


“We were so close.”


“You’re gonna go soft if you don’t hurry up.”


“Believe me, that is not a possibility right now. God, you’re hot.”


Yoongi blinks quickly. He’s been called a lot of things in his life, but hot has never really topped the list. Namjoon’s looking at him like he means it though, and Yoongi decides to reward him.


“Namjoon… please fuck me, I want you to knot me, please.” He rocks back trying to get friction and Namjoon lets him, watching intently as Yoongi reaches a hand back to massage Namjoon’s balls. “I want everyone to know exactly where we were and how good you made me feel so many times since I met you, I wanna smell like you. Please?”


Namjoon nods quickly, lifting his hips again to meet Yoongi’s ass, setting a quick pace from the beginning and fucking up into Yoongi so hard it jostles him forward a little bit each time, but it’s so good. He can’t keep his eyes open or his mouth shut, and he’s worried about how needy he sounds with each whine that falls out of his mouth, but Namjoon’s wrapping his arms around Yoongi’s waist and pulling him down to meet it time after time.


“Fuck, so good, Joon, it’s so good.”


Namjoon growls, low in the back of his throat, and Yoongi didn’t think he was into that before but Namjoon’s teeth are buried in his shoulder a second later, so close to where he really wants them, and he cries out, pulling the back of Namjoon’s hair reflexively to get him off.


It deteriorates from there, with Namjoon almost throwing Yoongi onto his back and fucking into him as Yoongi nips at Namjoon’s neck. He gasps when Namjoon pulls his teeth from Yoongi’s shoulder and instead darts forward to return smalls bites along his ear and the column of his throat. He doesn’t mean to do it again, to turn his face and tilt his head until his neck is laid bare. But he feels Namjoon’s teeth toying with the crux of his neck.


“It’s a bad idea.”


Yoongi gasps, his legs clenching on either side of Namjoon. “If you say so.”


“It is such a bad idea.”


“Probably.” Yoongi drags his teeth along Namjoon’s shoulder as his hand grips Namjoon’s arm to stay grounded. “Fuck.”


It’s so much better than any other time, with Namjoon’s teeth just barely pressing against his skin, teasing a mark. Teasing a mate.


“So fucking wet for me, baby. Gonna be so messy when my knot goes down. Such a messy fuckin’ boy, but you love it don’t you?”


“Joon - fuck - please,” he asks for something, burying one hand in the back of Namjoon’s hair.


“You really want it?”


Yoongi nods, and his gut tightens in anticipation.


“You gotta tell me. Wanna hear it, baby.”


“Please, knot me. Please -“ he hesitates, turning his face face shyly into Namjoon’s neck and muttering against his skin, “mate me?”


He yelps when Namjoon’s teeth sink into the meat of his neck, and he bites back in frustration, riding out the whine of pain and pleasure that shudders through him. It’s so fucking good, it feels like he’s on fire, and he can barely register that Namjoon’s still slowly moving in and out of him.


He pulls out a moment later and flips Yoongi onto his stomach. The air on his new bite stings but Namjoon’s weight is on his back a moment later, and his mouth gently sucks at the small amount of blood he’d caused. “You’re okay. You’re doing so good.”


Yoongi nods. So good. He grips the sheets beneath him as Namjoon continues to fuck him from behind, soothing the ache and burn of the bite with his tongue.


He can feel Namjoon starting to swell, and he keens at the idea of being pumped full. He’s not exactly sure where he picked up an unfortunately filthy kink, but face-down and fucked out probably isn’t the right time to start psychological dissecting himself, so instead he turns his face toward Namjoon, who kisses his cheek then his earlobe before pulling it with his teeth.


“Come on, Joon. Come on.”


Namjoon pushes into him deep, one more time, before he stills, and Yoongi can see the way his arm shakes where it’s propped up next to him. It’s almost disgusting how full he feels, how he can feel the cum trapped inside him as Namjoon’s knot continues to grow.


Namjoon tips them onto their left side, one arm trapped underneath Yoongi and wrapped around his stomach, and his right hand coming to wrap around Yoongi’s erection and begin moving loosely. “Can you cum for me now?”


“Close -” So close as Namjoon kisses the slightly sweat-damp hair at the back his neck, whispering and pushing him further. It’s Namjoon pressing down on the front of his stomach tentatively, feeling just the tip of his knot pushing against it, that has Yoongi digging his short nails into Namjoon’s forearm as he cums into his palm. He groans as his body tries to pull away from the sensation of Namjoon working him through it, but the knot holds him still, and he stretches and whines, beginning to get pushed to the point of oversensitivity. “Joon - Namjoon -”


“Sorry,” Namjoon mutters against his neck, nuzzling his chin over the bite mark on Yoongi’s shoulder.


Yoongi reaches over to the nightstand with a shaky hand and uses the cold washcloth to clean himself up. He winces at the contact, but he can’t get up, so he powers through it, and Namjoon has the decency to carefully reach behind him in a combination leg/arm effort until he can get the blanket over them both. Yoongi tosses the rag on the floor, promising himself he’ll pick it up later to spare the poor housekeeper who already has to deal with these sheets.


“Ah - careful, please.” Namjoon protests. Yoongi apologizes, but doesn’t stop pushing on the spot where he knows Namjoon’s knot rests just beneath. “You’re weird.”


“Shut up.” He inhales, the softest constant scent of coffee and nearly melts into the bed. Namjoon’s hand slowly petting the outside of his hip doesn’t help. His fingers softly scratching a pattern on his stomach makes him hazy. He should regret asking Namjoon to bite him. He should really regret that.


Namjoon continues to soothe the bite, sucking on it lightly and placing a kiss against it every so often. “You okay?”


Yoongi hums. “I think so. I’m sure I’ll have a mild panic when I’m back home, but I’m good for now.”


“Oh, great. That definitely set my nerves at ease.”


“I dunno. Feels right, though. And it’s a little late now.”


“Does feel right, doesn’t it.”


“Romance really isn’t dead. Amazing.”


“Are you ever not sarcastic for like thirty seconds?”


“I’m unfortunately sincere most of the time, people just think it’s sarcasm.”


Namjoon buries his nose in Yoongi’s hairline, as gross and sweaty as it is, and his breath tickles the back of Yoongi’s neck til he’s squirming. He pretends the flutter in his stomach is knot related, instead of butterflies from the way Namjoon’s smile grows against his skin. “Do you wanna get dinner later? Like with clothes on and in a public place where we literally can’t fuck without getting arrested?”


“You’re giving me all these hoops to jump through, I’m not sure it’s worth it.”


“I’ll buy.”


“Suddenly I’m starving.”


“That’s too bad, I did say later . I’m tired, let me sleep. And then, I’m not gonna lie, I’m pretty sure I’m jizzed dry, but I really wanna go again.”


“Wow, when you speak such beautiful words as jizzed dry , how can I possibly resist? Go the fuck to sleep so I can at least pretend this was a good idea.”


“It was a good idea.”


“Stop frowning, you’re making me anxious. It was a good idea. Go to sleep.”


“You don’t sound convinced.”


“Oh my god, go to sleep before I physically relax my asshole enough to escape please .”


“That is one hell of an image. You’re an amazing man, Yoongi.”


He bites his tongue, refusing to banter anymore so he can force Namjoon to sleep, and soon enough, Namjoon’s breathing evens out, and his scent rests over Yoongi calm and light, lulling him to sleep too. If he wakes up a few hours later to Namjoon rocking into him slowly, his lips pressed against Yoongi’s neck, he’s not upset about it.



Namjoon stands at the pick-up area with his bookbag like a child waiting for his mom after school, looking around nervously until a car comes to a cautious stop in front of him and rolls down the window.


“Kim Namjoon?”


“Yeah, that’s me.”


“I’m Hoseok, Yoongi sent me. You should probably get in the car like right now.”


Namjoon makes for the door but it’s locked when he pulls.


“Shit, sorry.” Hoseok unlocks and lets him in, taking Namjoon’s bookbag and chucking it in the backseat. “We gotta hurry because Yoongi is pissed at you.”


“What? Why! I didn’t do anything.”


“He went into preheat already, he gets crabby as fuck. I’ve been trying to distract him with treats and porn, but all he wants is coffee and the porn made him horny. My bad.”


Namjoon sighs. It’s their first heat together, but nothing Hoseok’s saying sounds out of the ordinary. He texts Yoongi that he’s on his way and asks him if he needs anything. He nearly chokes and flips his phone out of sight when he reads Yoongi’s response - fucking hentai level knot shoved so far inside me - .


“What he say?”


Namjoon shakes his head. “Nope. You don’t need to know that. Also, hey, big fan.”


“So I’ve heard! Nice to meet you. I’ll get you a signed book or something.”


It’s a nice ride. It’s a short ride, thank god. When he walks into Yoongi’s apartment, left unlocked for him, his knees nearly buckle at the deep warm smell of chocolate that hits him. He locks the front door behind him, throws his bag on the living room floor, and heads back to the bedroom where Yoongi has already noticed his presence and is whining at the top of his lungs.


“Namjoon, where the fuck have you been, I’m dying .”


“Sorry, baby. My sales trip was fine, thanks for asking. Hoseok picked me up at the airport and said he’s gonna get me an autographed novel.”


“I’m glad you had fun, please hurry.” Yoongi’s face barely peeks out from his cocoon of blankets but he leaves a corner open for Namjoon to climb inside once he’s stripped down to nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. “I...missedyou…”


“I’m sorry what was that?” Namjoon wraps himself around Yoongi’s side, simultaneously burning even as his skin is covered with goosebumps. “God, you smell so good.”


“I missed you.” Yoongi says, a little braver, a little weaker as he rubs the side of his face against Namjoon’s neck and slides his hands underneath his shirt.


“That’s gay - ow, ow , sorry, stop twisting, I’m sorry.”


Yoongi lets Namjoon’s nipple go, and instead moves to kiss Namjoon as he pushes his boxers down his hips.


Namjoon kisses his chest when he bends down to get his boxers untangled from his ankles. “Missed you too, baby.”


“Prove it, fucker.”


“I can’t believe I’m stuck with you.”


“Yes you can. You deserve this fate.” Yoongi yelps when Namjoon flips him onto his back and pushes his thighs apart. “Easy, I’m fucking sensitive.”


“Hoseok’s right, you are crabby.” He pulls his shirt overhead and throws it somewhere on the floor.


Yoongi frowns. “I am not. And if I were, it’s because someone isn’t using his monster boy dick to help me right now.”


“How many times do I have to ask you to stop watching hentai without me?”


“Nam joon , please.”


“Stop whining, I got you. Calm down, baby, it’s okay, I got you.” He ignores the way Yoongi pulls his hair as he works his teeth over the mark he’s permanently left. “Missed you.”


“Missed you, too.”


“Love you.”


Yoongi gasps as Namjoon pushes inside him all in one go, pausing to breathe once his hips are flush with Yoongi’s. “If I weren’t so turned on out of my fuckin’ mind, I would say something really clever.”


“Just say you love me, too, and I’ll fuck you.”


“I love you, too, now please move.” Yoongi refuses to acknowledge the blush on his cheeks but Namjoon kisses him softly anyway. It’s not a requirement that he say it again and again, broken over whines and moans as Namjoon fucks him through his heat, but Yoongi finds himself doing it anyways. He even manages to say it outside of sex, when he drives Namjoon the hour and a half it takes to get him home, and when he calls from home once he gets back safely, and at the end of long phone calls where his body rests spent and wet and aching for Namjoon.