It’s a hot day.
It’s the kind of hot where Namjoon feels like he’s melting into the sofa. The kind of hot where everything’s a little hazy and disconnected, like he’s living in an alternate dimension with the buzz of a fan as incessant background music. Namjoon likes the summer, tends to spend most of his time outdoors, but this is too much even for him. And on top of that, their building’s aircon is down, overloaded by the heavy usage.
It's a miserable enough day that when Hoseok had hit him up, Namjoon had almost turned him away. Being around him on a hot day when Hoseok made his palms sweaty on a normal one sounded like a bad idea.
But, well, Namjoon tends to have a hard time saying no to Hoseok.
"We should do something," Hoseok says now, and even his voice sounds syrupy slow. But that might be the weed. Namjoon's spacing out.
"We are doing something," Namjoon answers, passing the blunt to Hoseok when he holds out his hand. He'd been surprised when he hit him up, especially since he hadn't mentioned anyone else. They don't usually hang out alone; Namjoon can't remember if they ever have.
Maybe that's why Hoseok's presence is even more overwhelming than it usually is, every breath and shift of his body painfully noticeable. That, or it's the shorts. Namjoon can't move past the shorts. His brain had short-circuited the second he opened the door to find Hoseok standing there.
"No, I mean." Hoseok waves his hand vaguely in front of his face, the blunt settled between his fingertips before he hands it back to Namjoon. "Do something. You know."
Namjoon can think of a lot of things he'd like to do with Hoseok, none of which he imagines would be well-received. A few weeks ago he'd dared to ask Jimin if Hoseok was straight. Jimin had laughed at him. He's still not really sure what that was supposed to mean. Namjoon sighs, leaning his head back to take a drag. His head's swimming. He can't tell if it's the heat or the weed or if it's just Hoseok. "Like what?"
Hoseok shrugs. Namjoon tilts his head, lets it loll against the back of the couch. It's an ill-considered move, leaves him looking right at Hoseok's legs in those tiny, tiny shorts. Hoseok's legs are spread almost obscenely as he sprawls back, his shorts riding up as high as they can go, exposing what feels like miles of smooth, golden skin. Namjoon wonders if he's naturally that hairless or if he shaves. It's a bad line of thinking, because then he's imagining Hoseok ass naked with his leg perched on the sink, running a razor along the inside of his thigh.
"We should play a game."
Namjoon blinks, swallowing harshly and bringing himself back to the moment. He tears his gaze away from Hoseok's legs and finds him staring back, eyes lidded and relaxed. "Huh?"
"A game," Hoseok repeats, a grin stretching his cheeks. He looks like he could fall asleep at any second. Namjoon's never really seen Hoseok so relaxed. "I'm bored."
They finish off the blunt before Namjoon finally agrees. "Okay. I've got a PlayStation - "
Hoseok waves him off. "Not that kind of game."
"You wanna play a fucking card game or something?"
"Something more exciting. Like chicken."
Namjoon stares at him for what's probably a few seconds but feels like a long minute, slow and hazy as time feels. Then it clicks, the memory of a silly party game played to get everyone drunker. "Like gay chicken?"
"I mean, I guess it would be gay, since." He gestures between them.
Namjoon blinks at him again, then it dawns on him and his mouth goes dry. He hopes his jaw isn't slack the way it feels like it is, hopes the interest isn't as obvious on his face as it must be. Hoseok wants to play gay chicken. Hoseok wants to touch and maybe kiss and -
However Namjoon had envisioned today going, this wasn't it.
"We don't have to." Hoseok pats Namjoon's knee. "You look nervous."
Namjoon flushes. Hoseok's shifting away like he's about to stand, like the chance Namjoon's finally gotten after so long is about to slip out of grasp, and he panics. He grabs Hoseok's wrist. "Wait."
Hoseok glances at him, lips quirking into a grin again.
"I'm not nervous," he insists. "Let's play."
Hoseok settles back in, legs falling apart as he makes himself comfortable again. "You go first."
"Hang on." Namjoon licks his lips. "Rules, first. And a penalty."
"Anything goes. Whoever chickens out first loses. Loser streaks through the first floor."
Namjoon snorts. "You're kidding."
"It's hot enough, bet no one would even notice."
"Yeah, right." He shakes his head, something tense taking hold in the pit of his stomach. Anything goes . "Fine."
"Take it away, Namjoon-ssi."
Something about Hoseok's grin feels insufferable. Namjoon figures it won't be easy to make Hoseok lose, not when he's so touchy on a regular basis. He's seen Hoseok grind on Jimin without batting an eyelash, laughing it off a second later. But he doesn't want to start with too much, doesn't think he could even handle it.
He's definitely nervous.
His eyes catch on Hoseok's legs again, the hem of his shorts digging into his skin from the way they've ridden up. Before he can overthink it, he rests his hand on Hoseok's thigh just short of dangerously high, fingers curling inwards. His skin is warm and smooth, and Namjoon can't help but squeeze a little.
"That's it?" Hoseok says, almost a croon, before he leans in and presses his mouth to Namjoon's neck.
It's a soft, wet kiss, tongue flicking out to trace against Namjoon's skin briefly before he pulls away. Namjoon's high enough that the kiss feels long, overwhelming, a shudder running up his spine that he doesn't know if he quite manages to hide.
“Your turn,” Hoseok urges when Namjoon doesn’t pull himself together fast enough.
He swallows, then he slides his hand up Hoseok's thigh, running over the rough cloth of his shorts and slipping under the hem of his shirt. He brushes the taut muscles of Hoseok's abdomen, feels the way they contract at his touch, and stops to rest on his waist.
He looks up. Hoseok's eyes are dark.
"Your move," Namjoon says, but Hoseok's already shifting.
With a swing of his leg, he settles himself in Namjoon's lap, straddling his waist. He doesn't press in, stays resting on his thighs, but he's heavy and warm and Namjoon's breath doesn't make it out of his chest.
"That's your move?" Namjoon means to sound teasing, but he thinks he sounds a little choked up.
"Yup," Hoseok says easily. "Are you chickening out?"
"No," Namjoon fires, quicker than he intends.
He wonders if he can get a little daring, if he has the guts for that, wants to see Hoseok's composure crack. He doesn't seem affected at all, and Namjoon feels like his heart's about to leap out of his chest.
"if you take too long, I'm gonna think you're chickening out."
"Not chickening out," Namjoon mutters. Just for that, he's going to be daring.
He slips his other hand under Hoseok's shirt, too, and slides them both up his sides, mapping the ridges of his skin. Then he flicks Hoseok's nipples with his thumbs, stares at his neck when he does and catches the way Hoseok's Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.
Unlike Namjoon, Hoseok doesn't hesitate. He winds his arms around Namjoon's neck and rolls his hips down, pressing in tight until Namjoon lets out a shaky exhale. He can't stop the breathy fuck that escapes his lips, can't hide the want in his gaze when he meets Hoseok's.
"Too much yet?" Hoseok asks, and instead of answering Namjoon runs his hands down Hoseok's back and slips them inside his sweats, cupping his bare asscheeks.
Hoseok leans in and kisses him.
It's hot and wet and Namjoon finds himself tugging Hoseok closer, closer, until there's only a breath of space between them. The kiss is everything Namjoon could have dreamed of, a little sloppy in its desperation, so good he can hardly believe it's happening. He must be dreaming. He must be dreaming, but it's a good dream, the best dream, and he doesn't want it to end. When Hoseok breaks away to breathe, his mouth is slick and Namjoon only lets him rest for a second before pulling him right back in.
"I've been wanting to do that forever," Namjoon breathes into Hoseok's mouth when they break apart again. Hoseok's panting, thighs locked tight against Namjoon's hips.
"Are you kidding?" Hoseok exclaims, pulling back to look at him. His hair's mussed, lips swollen and cheeks flushed. He's so beautiful Namjoon thinks he could stare at him forever. "I've been hitting on you for ages ."
"I thought you were straight," Namjoon defends, and he didn't think it was possible for Hoseok to look even more annoyed.
"You're an idiot."
"Well, we're here now - "
"Yeah, thanks to me," Hoseok sniffs. "You're gonna have to make it up to me. What if I'd given up, huh?"
Namjoon leans his head back, unable to hold back the fond smile. "I probably would have pined after you forever."
Hoseok blinks, looks a little flustered. "Oh."
"I'll make it up to you with a date?" Namjoon doesn't mean for it to come out quite so questioning, but Hoseok's lips stretch into a smile.
“You could do that.”
Namjoon runs a hand through Hoseok’s mussed hair. “So who won?”
Hoseok tilts his head. “No one’s chickened out yet.”
“Guess that means we have to keep playing.”
Namjoon catches Hoseok’s grin before he leans in to kiss him again.