The rain pours down in sheets, separating Namjoon's bathroom window from the rest of the Seoul skyline, and Yoongi is drunk again.
It's not that Namjoon is concerned about Yoongi's drinking, because he isn't. Yoongi is a quiet drunk, knows how to handle himself just fine in a crowd, and if he needs a little liquid courage before they go out tonight--that's fine, really. Namjoon gets it. He understands. Namjoon himself is test-driving a new crutch tonight, but he still has a beer open on the small, cracked shelf next to the sink.
He sighs, placing the eyeliner pencil down and giving himself a critical look in the mirror before taking a long sip. Yoongi is standing behind him, leaning up against the wall of the bathroom as he sips from his flask of whiskey. Namjoon watches in the bathroom mirror, Yoongi's eyes drawn to the pulse of Namjoon's throat as he swallows, and he wonders which one of them will be the one to start it tonight. If they'll get all the way to the bar and through the show before one of them gives in, or if they won't even make it out of their apartment.
Namjoon almost hopes it's the latter.
"Please tell me you're going to do the rest of your eye," Yoongi says, finally breaking eye contact and taking a long sip from his silver flask. "You look like a disturbingly tall panda."
"Working on it," Namjoon murmurs, picking up the eyeliner pencil again. He is. He's been working on it all week, ever since the idea had occurred to him while he was standing in line at Olive Young, his cart full of a random and necessary assortment of items like socks and toothpaste and energy drinks and dental floss. The line to check out was long, had stretched back into the makeup aisle behind a group of excited Chinese tourists buying piles of face masks, and Namjoon had looked over to see his sister's favorite brand of eyeliner on sale for 1800 won.
He'd thrown it in the cart for her without thinking about it too much--1+1 SPECIAL SALE!! The package screamed at him, EXTRA SPECIAL VALUE SET!!--and hadn't thought much about it until later that night. He'd been browsing Japanese street style blogs on Instagram and suddenly wondered if that extra eyeliner--sitting next to his boring socks and his boring toothpaste--could make his own face look as dark and beautiful and desperate as the ones on his screen.
(It had taken exactly 9 YouTube beginner tutorials and 5 hours of his life, but eventually, late last night he'd discovered that yes, with a steady hand and a bit of luck, he could. Sort of. There was still the Eyebrow Incident, so it didn't look perfect, but it was a Start. Maybe he'd even look dark and beautiful and desperate enough to convince Yoongi hyung that continuing their drunken hookups was a good idea.)
"I'm actually impressed," Yoongi says into the deafening silence, once it becomes clear that Namjoon is concentrating too hard to answer him right away. "I thought for sure that this eyeliner thing was going to be a disaster, I mean, you have to admit, your track record isn't--"
"OW, motherfucker," Namjoon interrupts, hissing in pain as he slaps his hand over his eye.
"...that great," Yoongi finishes dryly. "There we go. That's more like it."
"It was fine last night," Namjoon growls, wincing as he draws his hand away and sees the smudged remains of the last half-hour of his work. "Oh, for fuck's sake."
Yoongi sighs, taking one last, long sip of his flask before setting it down on the floor and standing up to cross their small bathroom.
"Let me see," he says, gently tugging Namjoon's hand away from his eye as Namjoon's raised hand rubs at it unthinkingly. "Let me--okay, maybe we should take that off before we try again."
"We?" Namjoon says, reaching for the eye makeup remover packets that had come free of charge with his purchase. "What is this we?"
"Just let me do it for you," Yoongi asks, giving the rain outside their window a long, distrustful glance. "I'm probably better at it drunk than you are sober. This stuff is waterproof, right?"
"Yeah," Namjoon says, rubbing at his eyes in frustration. "But you don't have to--Hyung, it's stupid, I was just--"
"I said, I'll do it," Yoongi says, soft but firm. He presses on Namjoon's shoulder, guiding him to sit down on the rim of the tub so that Yoongi is hovering over him. Namjoon's stomach rolls and tumbles and for a moment he thinks that maybe Yoongi will just--
But then Yoongi picks up the discarded eyeliner from its place on the sink, and Namjoon fights down a surge of disappointment. Which is stupid, really. Yoongi is helping him out. He's supporting Namjoon's creative process, for certain values of "creative process" that means bad eyeliner and white lies and awkward seduction attempts.
Namjoon doesn't even know how he thought this would go, is the thing. His brain had sort of fizzled out at 3 am when he'd looked at himself in the mirror and seen the perfect lines of black gently framing his eyes, and he'd felt an unfamiliar surge of confidence. It had all seemed so simple at the time, the makeup leading to the press of their bodies in an unbroken logical chain.
Now, Namjoon licks his lips nervously and closes his eyes under Yoongi's watchful gaze. He has no idea what he was thinking. Now he feels small and stupid and absolutely idiotic for assuming he could look anything like the beautiful faces he'd seen that night on his phone.
"Hmm," Yoongi murmurs, fingers gentle against the curve of Namjoon's jaw as he moves him carefully back and forth. "Okay. I think I know how to do this."
Namjoon opens his eyes. "You said you knew how to do this," he says, and the words come out with a tinge of desperation. Namjoon wonders if he's still talking about the makeup, or about something else entirely.
"I do," Yoongi says calmly. "I've done it before. We just have different eye shapes, that's all. And you don't have double eyelids. But I think I see how it's supposed to work."
"You--what?" Namjoon says, stuck on the sudden mental image of Yoongi with his bleach-blonde hair and his eyes rimmed dark. "You have? When?"
Yoongi shrugs. He brushes the pad of his thumb over the curve of Namjoon's cheek, like he's brushing away a stray eyelash, and Namjoon's face heats. "Gotta try everything once," Yoongi says, shrugging like it's no big deal. "Mostly it was just too much work to do every day. Too lazy for that shit."
"Every day," Namjoon says, his voice faint. "Right." He's pretty sure that if he ran into Yoongi with bedhead and smudged eyeliner every morning, he'd spontaneously combust.
"Close your eyes," Yoongi softly. He's still holding tipping Namjoon's chin upwards with the pads of two of his calloused fingers. "You're all tense. You need to relax."
Namjoon raises an eyebrow at Yoongi incredulously. He's aware that they might have been heading towards a Moment, but he also can't believe that Min Yoongi, King of the Silent Anxiety Freak-Out, just told him to relax.
"Okay, pot to kettle, I get it," Yoongi grumbles, stepping back for a moment. "Look, do you want me to do this, or not? Because we can just go to the show, if you're not into it anymore."
Namjoon sighs. "I don't know," he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Is it stupid? I just--I felt like it looked good the other night. I don't know. I felt--" He pauses, his face heating again. "I don't know. Cool."
Yoongi nods. "Did you take a picture?"
"I--" Namjoon tries to think back, through the haze of sleep deprivation and fuzzy memories. "Maybe? Let me see." He pulls his phone out of his pocket, swiping the camera app open to check. The photos aren't exactly attractive, and it's not even remotely his best angle, but it looks like he did snap a few pictures before he'd wiped it all off and fallen into his bed.
"Yeah," Namjoon says, handing the phone to Yoongi before he can think better of it. "Here."
Yoongi's eyes widen slightly as he scrolls through the photos. He licks at the corner of his lips, tongue darting out silently, pink and wet, before he closes the app and hands the phone back to Namjoon.
"It looks good," Yoongi says, after a long moment of tense silence between them. "You should do it again. I like it."
"Oh," Namjoon says, and he doesn't even try to hide the relief blossoming in his voice. "Really? It does?"
"Idiot," Yoongi mutters, shaking his head like he needs to clear it. "Yes, dumbass. It looks good. Like--like, really good." There's a flush of soft pink staining the delicate jut of Yoongi's cheekbones. Yoongi presses his lips firmly together. "Now shut up and close your eyes and let me do your makeup, asshole."
"Right," Namjoon says, "Right. Sure. Okay."
The problem with Yoongi hyung--with this whole situation, really--is that Kim Namjoon is 19 years old and a first-year Philosophy major and Yoongi hyung is a friend-of-a-friend, his roommate, and also the first boy that Namjoon has ever kissed.
Sometimes Namjoon likes to lie to himself, in his head, and say that his pansexuality was theoretical before he met Yoongi, but deep down he knows that's not true. He's always been this way. When he was six years old, he'd decided one day that he and his best friend, Jung Hoseok, would grow up and get married to each other, and he still remembers the gentle sting of his mother's explanation. Joon-ah, you're too sweet. It doesn't…it doesn't quite work like that.
Except it does work like that, for Namjoon, and any pretense at theoretical straightness had been thrown out the window the night that Yoongi kissed him under the bare bulb of their too-bright kitchen light. Kissed him carefully, like he was afraid but willing to take the risk, and Namjoon had been unable to do anything but slide his hands around Yoongi's waist and kiss him back.
Namjoon closes his eyes and waits, and after a moment he feels the soft brush of fingers against the other corner of his left eyelid. "Okay," Yoongi says, his voice tight with concentration. "Now just. Stay still. Don't… move..."
"Sure," Namjoon manages tightly. "Of course. I'm excellent at not moving."
"Sure you are," Yoongi mutters. His breath is warm on Namjoon's cheek. He smells like aftershave and whiskey and the faint ammonia of recent hair dye.
"You say that like you do this for all the boys." More soft, gentle touches. The slide of the eyeliner along the edges of his eyelashes.
"No," Yoongi drawls. "Just the ones I'm fucking."
Namjoon chokes on thin air.
"Sorry," Yoongi says, not sounding sorry at all. "I just like. Figured we should talk about it."
"That is," Namjoon wheezes, coughing and covering his mouth as he tries to regain his breath. Yoongi makes a face and leans away. "That is not how you start that conversation, hyung, jesus fuck."
"I mean," Yoongi continues, thoughtfully. "We could stop fucking. Is that what you--"
"See? Conversation over," Yoongi says. His fingers press into Namjoon's skin again, holding his eyelid taut. "Now we've talked about it."
Namjoon gathers up all his courage. His heart is racing in his chest, but it feels easier somehow, like this. It feels easier to say it out loud with Yoongi's hands on his skin and his eyes closed, safe here in the dark of his own mind. "Do you? I mean. Um. Do you want to? Keep doing it?”
Yoongi snickers, not unkindly, but enough that Namjoon knows he's truly amused. "Yes, Joon-ah," Yoongi says. "I want to keep doing 'it'. What are you, twelve?"
"Oh, for fuck's sake," Namjoon mutters. He feels Yoongi's hands leave his left cheekbone, and then turn his face gently to the right.
"Joon-ah, you sucked me off last time," Yoongi says, repressed laughter still winding through his tone. "You should at least be able to say it out loud."
"Uh, does that mean it was good?" Namjoon asks, before he can stop himself.
"Maybe if you'd shut up for two seconds, I could finish doing your makeup and return the favor," Yoongi says.
Namjoon swallows and thinks, Hyung, you didn't answer my question.
The first time, Yoongi had sighed softly into Namjoon's mouth, all of the tension bleeding out of him as Namjoon carefully traced his tongue over the seam of Yoongi's lips. They'd kissed until Namjoon's mouth had felt numb and raw, until Yoongi's lower lip was red and soft from Namjoon's teeth, and then Yoongi had linked their fingers together and led Namjoon back to his dark, messy bedroom.
He'd kept the lights off, leading Namjoon to bed, guiding him with both hands and snickering as Namjoon tripped over the laundry basket. He'd kept the lights off but left the music on, something low and bass-heavy with hypnotic female vocals, and after he'd shoved Namjoon down--gently, but firmly--on the bed, he'd crawled on top of Namjoon and Namoon had wrapped his hands around Yoongi's slim hips and that was---
And that was that, really.
And in the morning, Namjoon had woken up in Yoongi's bed, with Yoongi already gone.
Namjoon tries to shut up and focus.
Yoongi's fingers dance along the curve of his eyebrow. The eyeliner glides whisper-soft against his skin. The rain patters softly outside the open window.
"Christ, you're the loudest thinker of anyone I've ever met," Yoongi mutters, annoyed, after a long two minutes of silence. "Stop overthinking this. It was." He growls softly in frustration. "It was good," he mumbles, low and soft and vaguely embarrassed. "Happy now?"
Namjoon licks his lips. "Yeah," he says, trying his best to summon up every ounce of chill he fundamentally does not possess. "Yes. Hyung."
Oh, fuck it, he mumbles. Namjoon hears the eyeliner pencil hit the floor and then Yoongi's hands are cupping Namjoon's face, thumbs brushing at his eyeliner, probably smudging it all to hell. Yoongi's breath is hot on Namjoon's mouth and he's so close, bare inches away, but he's waiting for--what?
"Now is when you kiss me, asshole," Yoongi whispers harshly, and Namjoon gives up and gives in, opening his eyes and reaching forward at the same moment. His palms find Yoongi's waist, thumbs settling in the dips of Yoongi's hip bones as he slides their mouths together. Yoongi kisses him back immediately, hands coming to rest in Namjoon's hair, bitten-off fingernails scratching gently at Namjoon's scalp.
It's a good kiss.
It's the kind of kiss that travels like lightning down the back of Namjoon's spine, that spreads out to his fingers and toes and then settles low in his belly. Yoongi's mouth on his is insistent, demanding, and Namjoon just wants to give and give and give but he's also perched precariously on the lip of their tub and it's not like he's going to set any records for gracefulness any time soon.
"I'm--oh god, I'm going to fall," Namjoon gasps out, pulling away from Yoongi just long enough to breathe and steady himself. It's a miracle he hasn't bashed his head in yet, what with Yoongi practically climbing into his lap. "Not here. Bed? My bedroom?"
"Bedroom," Yoongi agrees, smiling sharp and pleased, all teeth.
As far as Namjoon can tell, there are five (5) rules for hooking up with Yoongi:
1) Let him be on top when he wants to be on top. (It's not a dominance thing. Yoongi has never said anything, precisely, but there is a tension in the lines of his body whenever Namjoon accidentally pins him down, like he has to physically force himself not to shove Namjoon off. Namjoon thinks it must be about having an escape route. A way out, if he needs one. The more careful Namjoon is about this unspoken rule, the more comfortable Yoongi seems to become.)
2) Let him pick the music.
3) Trust that Yoongi knows what he's doing. (He absolutely knows what he's doing. He moves against Namjoon with a surety and grace that sometimes leaves Namjoon breathless.)
4) Enjoy the moments afterwards, when Yoongi is soft and sweet and languid next to him in the dark. (He steals kisses from Namjoon like he's stealing secrets. He likes to play with Namjoon's hair and fall asleep listening to Namjoon's heartbeat, even when he protests that it's only because he's cold.)
5) Don't expect him to be there in the morning.
The patter of the rain outside is softer now. Slower.
Namjoon's bedroom is dark, lit only by the faint lamp on his bedside table, the one shaped like a Bearbrick that Hoseok brought back for him after a school trip to Japan in high school. His sheets aren't clean but Yoongi had crawled into his lap anyway, and stayed there, content to scratch his fingers through Namjoon's hair and leave kittenish bites along the gentle slope of Namjoon's throat and smudge Namjoon’s eyeliner all to hell.
Namjoon sighs out a breath, trailing his fingers up Yoongi's back, tracing the thin knobs of his spine. Yoongi's mouth is hot and wet and it's good with him, always has, probably always will be. The problem between them isn't a lack of compatibility. It's that they fucking live together, and this will invariably end in an explosion, or several.
In this situation, Namjoon's got nothing to gain from his own bashfulness, and a hell of a lot to lose. He tells himself that even if it's embarrassing, there's no reason to think that Yoongi will laugh at him. Might turn him down, sure, but Yoongi isn't an asshole.
Okay, he isn't that kind of an asshole.
"You think so loud," Yoongi murmurs, but it's gentle, teasing. He pulls back, breathing heavy, and his eyes are soft. His hair is mussed up in the back from Namjoon's long fingers carding through it. Namjoon takes a shuddering breath. Yoongi will probably never know or accept how beautiful he really is; probably genuinely doesn't care, when it comes down to it. But in the low light there's always something haunting about him, a moment or two where it seems like time itself pauses and his sharpest edges begin to blur at the seams. Still sharp, of course. Always sharp. But softer here, in the quiet between them. In the spaces between their lips, and gasps for air, and twinned heartbeats.
"I want--" Namjoon whispers, but the words still stick in his throat. Yoongi tilts his head, eyes bright. Curious. One hand rubbing the small of Namjoon's back.
Namjoon takes the easy way out. He kisses Yoongi again, leaning in and nipping deep into Yoongi's lower lip, enjoying the pleased, low growl that results.
He kisses Yoongi, a satisfying and effective distraction, and reaches one hand out to fumble in his bedside table until he finds a small tube. Clear liquid inside, dark purple cap, writing on the outside in a trendy, slightly cheesy font. He can see it in his mind as clear as day, and so he keeps his eyes shut as he drops it on the bed next to them, more than loud enough to grab Yoongi's attention.
Yoongi pulls back from the kiss, looking over at the tube lying on the bed.
"Damn," Yoongi drawls, after a beat. Namjoon watches as the flush on Yoongi's cheeks blooms soft and sudden on Yoongi's chest, his ears, his neck. "And here I thought you'd at least buy me dinner first."
"Wait, no--" Namjoon winces, his hands trailing up over Yoongi's thin T-shirt, smoothing along his sides in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. "I didn't mean--it's not--I didn't mean that it was for you."
"Oh," Yoongi says, sounding intrigued. "Because I thought--"
"I know what you thought. I'm a fucking idiot," Namjoon sighs. "I was. I was trying to avoid saying it out loud."
"Joon-ah," Yoongi says, starting to snicker. Gently, but enough to get his point across. Yoongi rolls his hips and his ass backwards, settling himself down directly over Namjoon's dick. Namjoon gasps, his hands tightening helplessly on Yoongi's sides. Namjoon wants this so badly, wants Yoongi to do things to him that Namjoon has only dreamed about, and why is it so hard to say it out loud?
"I'm already in your lap," Yoongi says, with a satisfied smile. He rolls his hips again, slowly and deliberately, eliciting another groan. "Just say it."
"Can you just," Namjoon says. "Can you. I wanted to try."
"Getting fucked?" Yoongi raises an eyebrow. "Joon-ah, that's...that's a lot, all at once. Are you sure?"
"Yes? Maybe," Namjoon says. "I don't know. Is it?"
"You don't sound sure. It's really not--you don't have to--”
"I want it," Namjoon says desperately, giving up on all pretense of dignity. "Yoongi hyung, please, just--I want your fingers?" His face is bright red and Namoon thinks for a moment that this must be a nightmare, but then Yoongi's eyes soften. Yoongi brings one hand up to cup Namjoon's face for a moment, studying him closely. Namjoon wonders what he sees, besides an awkward guy with smudged eyeliner, but apparently Yoongi finds what he's looking for, and he gives Namjoon a small nod before dropping his hand.
"We could try fingering," Yoongi says, calmly, like it's not the end of the fucking world and people just say shit like that all the time, out loud. Like Min Yoongi himself didn't have five almost silent hook-up sessions with Kim Namjoon within the past six weeks. Like they've been talking about it this whole time, when they haven't and it's been driving Namjoon insane.
Namjoon bites his lip. "Why are we suddenly talking about this?" he says, because it's been bothering him all night, ever since Yoongi sprung this conversation on him. He feels off balance, exposed with no warning, like a hermit crab pulled out of his shell.
Yoongi sighs, looking down and away, fingers twisting together in his lip.
"I was waiting for your gay freakout," Yoongi says. He worries at the edge of his bottom lip with his small teeth. His voice is deceptively light, but his eyes are serious. "But then you were taking too long, and I got tired of waiting."
"So you went with the nuclear option," Namjoon says, slowly. He hates to admit it, but it does make a certain kind of fucked-up sense. A Yoongi kind of sense. Push Namjoon away, before he can push Yoongi farther. He runs his hands slowly up Yoongi's arms, brushing his thumbs gently along Yoongi’s collarbones, trying to meet Yoongi's eyes.
"Don't look at me like that," Yoongi says, refusing to meet Namjoon's gaze. "I was just being--cautious. Some guys..." He trails off, mouth pressing into a thin line.
Namjoon keeps his touches light and fights a sudden surge of protectiveness."Yoongi-ah," he says, trying to keep his voice soft, "Yoongi-ah, you don't mean--did they--"
"What? Oh, no, not--like that," Yoongi says, shaking his head. His shoulders relax a little, slumping downward. "Just. Assholes, you know? Guys who think they're so straight. Even when we’re fucking." He lets out a sharp, humorless laugh.
"Well," he says, taking a deep breath, because this isn't something he's ever had to quantify out loud but apparently they talk about shit now, so he might as well go for it. He doesn't like the way Yoongi is holding himself, all fragile and tense, as though Namjoon is going to push him away at any moment.
"Look, I'm not… straight," Namjoon says, over the sudden churning of his stomach. "And I'm not going to push you away, or freak out."
"I was starting to get that impression," Yoongi says. He licks his bottom lip. "First time you've said it out loud?"
"Yeah," Namjoon manages. He feels giddy, and a little bit like he's going to throw up, but also as though something has been lifted from his shoulders, something he didn't even know was weighing him down.
Yoongi leans in to kiss him, his mouth soft, fingertips coming to rest on Namjoon's shoulders as he cuddles closer. Namjoon can't help but run his fingers through Yoongi's hair, sucking on the tip of Yoongi's tongue. Namjoon pushes down on Yoongi's hips, pushing him down against the hardness between his legs. Yoongi moans, soft and low and Namjoon wishes he could capture the sound of it forever.
"Alright," Yoongi says, panting slightly when they break apart for air. Namjoon's entire body feels warm. Yoongi’s voice is gravel and sand. "You want me to finger you, Kim Namjoon? You want me to finger-fuck your ass? Ask for it."
"Fuck," Namjoon says, tipping his head back as Yoongi leans in to trail sharp kisses along the side of his neck. "Fuck. I want it. I want you to fuck me. Please."
"With my hands?" Yoongi slips his fingers underneath Namjoon's shirt, scraping his fingernails over the soft skin of Namjoon's stomach. Namjoon gasps, his stomach muscles tightening as his dick jumps under Yoongi's ass.
"With your hands," Namjoon says, dragging Yoongi closer, slipping his hands under Yoongi's T-shirt to brush his fingers over Yoongi's sensitive nipples. "Please, Yoongi hyung, Please."
Yoongi smiles, his hands sliding up Namjoon's chest, pulling his T-shirt up around Namjoon’s chest. Namjoon tugs his shirt over his head, leaning back against the headboard as Yoongi does the same.
"Take your pants off," Yoongi murmurs, sliding off Namjoon's lap to work the zipper on his own jeans, shrugging out of them with impressive speed. Namjoon doesn't think he's ever gotten naked this fast before, but he manages it, boxer briefs catching on his foot as his dick slaps against his stomach. Yoongi's still in his underwear--black, of course, always black--but there's a large wet spot over the hard ridge of his erection. Namjoon's mouth waters, and he bites back a whimper.
"You need to spread your legs," Yoongi breathes, sitting up on his knees while he grabs the tube and twists the cap off. "Have you done this before? To yourself?"
Namjoon shakes his head. He's wanted, god, he's actually dreamt about it, but it just felt like too much, too soon. He's gone from never kissing a guy before to getting his dick sucked in just over a month, and Namjoon just--needed some time to adjust to the reality of it, to the feeling of Yoongi's stubble against his thighs and his dick against Namjoon's ass.
He doesn't feel that way now. He doesn't need any more time to adjust.
"I wanted you to do it," Namjoon admits, because fuck it, if they're doing this, this whole talking about stuff thing, he's all in. "To be, like. The first."
Yoongi's eyes darken as he leans down, brushing a kiss against Namjoon's bare thigh. Namjoon can't help himself; he runs his hand through Yoongi's hair, pushing it off his forehead so he can see Yoongi's face.
"You need to sit up against the pillows," Yoongi murmurs, arranging himself in between Namjoon's legs. You need to--yeah, that's it. Like that." He places his hands on Namjoon's hips, avoiding his erection entirely. Namjoon groans, his hips bucking up against Yoongi's hold.
"Pull your knees up, over my shoulders," is all Yoongi says before his face is suddenly level with Namjoon's dick. Namjoon hurries to comply, sliding his legs awkwardly over Yoongi's shoulders. Yoongi settles in between Namjoon’s legs, closing one hand around the base of Namjoon’s cock. Hestrokes slowly upward until he reaches the tip, and then he presses his thumb just underneath the head, his fingers sliding in pre-come.
"You have such a nice dick," Yoongi says, tongue darting out to lick at the tip. Namjoon whines, rocking his hips up as best he can with one of Yoongi's hands holding him down. "Thanks," he gasps out, because it’s important to be polite, even if he’s throwing his head back against the pillows behind him as Yoongi closes his lips around the head and sucks gently, his tongue flicking underneath the glans.
All Namjoon wants to do is grab Yoongi's head and push him down, but he can't do that, it would be so rude, so he pushes Yoongi's hair back from his face again, enjoying the sight of Yoongi with his eyes closed and his mouth full of Namjoon's cock. "You're so--good at this--fuck, Yoongi," Namjoon groans, as Yoongi bobs up and down on his cock, taking his time, humming ever so softly. His eyes are closed but curled up at the corners, like he's pleased with himself.
Namjoon finds himself lost in it, lost in the sight of Yoongi's flushed cheeks and plush lips wrapped around his cock, until he feels Yoongi's hands trailing across his skin from his hips to his ass, both hands smoothing over the skin only to gently grab and pull his cheeks apart. Namjoon gasps as Yoongi trails a finger down between them, soft and strangely intimate. Yoongi's other hand moves to Namjoon's balls, massaging them gently before pressing his thumb behind them.
"Fuck," Namjoon groans, his hips bucking up helplessly. Yoongi chokes and pulls off Namjoon’s dick, coughing. "Oh my god," he rasps, sounding dazed but annoyed. "What the fuck, Joon-ah, I was getting into it."
"I'm sorry," Namjoon groans, grasping his dick firmly at the base, trying to calm himself down. Yoongi rubs his thumb softly behind Namjoon's balls, his other fingers brushing gently over Namjoon's hole.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I just--"
"Sssh, It's okay," Yoongi says. "It’s better if you're--you know. Worked up."
"I am so worked up," Namjoon says. He takes a deep breath, then another, then another. Yoongi's hands disappear and then return cool and wet with lube.
"Just--just go for it," he manages, one hand still holding his cock firmly. Yoongi kisses the junction between his hips and thigh, one finger pressing gently against his hole, rubbing back and forth.
"You need to relax," Yoongi murmurs. His hair is a mess, and he's frowning in concentration. "Breathe. You're all tense."
"Just. You know." Namjoon rasps out. "Trying not to come."
"Mmmmm," Yoongi replies, sounding distracted. The pressure becomes firmer, somehow, and wetter. Namjoon just wants--he doesn't know what he wants, really, because this is all new to him, but there's a part of him that desperately wants to push against the hot, wet pressure that’s almost inside him.
"Move your hips," Yoongi mumbles. "You can get into it a little more, you don't have to stay perfectly still--"
"Oh fuck," Namjoon groans, as the tip of Yoongi's finger slips inside him and oh, god, he doesn't even--everything is warm, and wet, and it's such a stretch, it feels huge. Namjoon thinks about Yoongi fucking him for real and his whole body shudders.
"That's it," Yoongi murmurs, sliding the tip of his finger in and out, biting Namjoon's stomach gently before planting a messy kiss on the side of Namjoon's cock. "Yeah, move your hips. Fuck, Joonie. You like it?"
"Yeah," Namjoon whispers, overcome by sensations and the stars suddenly burning behind his eyes. "Yeah, god, it's--"
"A lot," Yoongi murmurs, eyelashes fanning against his cheeks, muscles in his arm working steadily as he slowly opens Joon up. "I know."
Namjoon shakes his head wordlessly, whining when Yoongi slips his middle finger inside up to the knuckle. "Not enough," Namjoon groans, hips working in time with Yoongi's slow, measured pace. "More. Do it harder, faster--something."
"Oh?" Yoongi says, giving Namjoon an arch look as he increases his pace, working in time to meet the roll of Namjoon's hips. "Like that?"
"That's--yes, fuck,, fuck, Yoongi-hyung--"
Yoongi kisses the side of Namjoon's knee, soft mouth against softer skin. "Think you can take two?"
Namjoon doesn't know, really. He has no idea if he can take two fingers but just the thought of it has him arching his back in earnest, whimpering as Yoongi begins to drag his index finger around the outside of Namjoon's hole.
“So pretty like this," Yoongi says, more to himself than to Namjoon, the words mumbled into the thin skin of Namjoon's inner thigh. "With your stupid hair and your pretty eyeliner all smudged--"
"My hair," Namjoon groans, trying to focus long enough to string together a cohesive sentence. "My hair is not--stupid--you--asshole--"
Yoongi laughs, sudden and wide and unexpected, grinning at Namjoon before he licks a sloppy trail up the side of Namjoon's dick, giving Namjoon's flagging erection a few firm pumps with his fist. Then he winces, carefully tugging his fingers out. "Sorry," Yoongi says, making a disgruntled face as he massages his palm. "Hand cramp."
"Right," Namjoon says. His chest is heaving and he can feel the sweat dripping along his temples. His brain is yelling that the gentlemanly thing to do would be to massage Yoongi's hands for him; his body has entirely checked out of the equation. It's all he can do to shiver and wait helplessly for Yoongi to continue.
"I think can take two," he says, after a long moment of silence between them, the two of them panting softly together in the semi-darkness. "When you're ready."
Yoongi nods, tracing two fingers around the outside of Namjoon's hole. Namjoon jumps at the contact but his whole body goes hot and liquid as Yoongi slowly slides his fingers back in. It's not so much of a stretch, this time. Namjoon tries to breathe through it anyway, to let his body relax back into the rhythm they'd been building towards before.
"You know, in porn, they're always saying shit like, ohhhh, tight ass this, or like, twink ass that," Yoongi says, sounding thoughtful. "I never got that. It's so much better when you're opening someone up, you know? When they really start to just—yeah, relax into it…like that.."
"Oh jesus fuck," Namjoon bites out, his hips working roughly against Yoongi's hand. Yoongi probably doesn't mean for his rambling to sound like dirty talk, but damn it’s working for Namjoon. There's something about the idea of it; something about being so open and ready for Yoongi’s cock, about relaxing into it, into them, into the stretch and the pull and the--
"Gonna come," Namjoon bites out, reaching a hand down to fist himself, quick and tight, just the way he likes. "Fuck, Yoongi-hyung, Yoongi-ah, fuck, fuck--"
"Yeah, that's it," Yoongi murmurs, spreading the fingers of one hand over the muscles jumping under Namjoon's skin as he tenses up. "That's it."
Namjoon groans as he begins to come, his body clenching tight around Yoongi's fingers. Yoongi whines, biting down into the meat of Namjoon's thigh as Namjoon shudders and gasps, Yoongi's fingers almost but not quite there, so close, so close--
"That's it," Yoongi says, again. "That's it, come on Joon-ah, come on--" He twists his fingers, deep inside, and Namjoon suddenly sees stars, sees galaxies and universes swimming inside the clear trails of lightning sparking across his inner vision.
And when he opens his eyes--moments, hours, days later, who cares, does it even matter?--there are no galaxies and no stars at all. There's just Min Yoongi, his hair mussed, lips pink, the tip of his cock flushed a dark, pretty red as it peeks out from inside the curl of his fist.
Namjoon watches him hazily and wonders if this isn't an even better sight than all those cold suns and far-off stars in his weird orgasm dreams.
"Kiss me," Namjoon murmurs, forcing his body to move under his command, grabbing Yoongi's chin with his clean hand as he sits up and nudges Yoongi's mouth open with his bottom lip. Yoongi groans into his mouth, his tongue darting out to slide along Namjoon's lip, and Namjoon gives up and crushes their mouths together. Yoongi kisses him back and then pulls away, panting, and Namjoon can tell that he's close.
"Let me, I want to--" Namjoon says, and it's a jumble of words that don't make sense, nothing coming out quite right, but he slides his palms up Yoongi's thighs anyway, one hand holding Yoongi steady while Yoongi leans over him. Namjoon wraps his other hand around the head of Yoongi's cock, sliding his fist down to meet Yoongi's hand. Yoongi whines, biting back an almost-silent fuck, Joon-ah and bucking his hips up into their hands.
"You're pretty, too," Namjoon says, because it seems very important, all of a sudden, that Yoongi know this. "Or handsome, I mean, whatever, but your cock, it's so pretty--" Namjoon looks down at their hands and seriously, it really is, the head swollen and dark red and peeking out of his fist, shiny with pre-come.
Yoongi groans. "Joon-ah, please just--shut up--" his cheeks are bright red, his ears, too, and Namjoon smiles, leaning in to kiss him again, wet and dirty with too much tongue. Yoongi moans into Namjoon's mouth and then he's shuddering, twitching his hips into Namjoon's fist as the first spurt of come hits Namjoon's bare chest.
Namjoon jerks him through it, Yoongi's come splattering his chest, a warm shock of wet that has Namjoon groaning out his own desperate noises into Yoongi's mouth. He jerks him through it and then he slowly gentles Yoongi down, helping catch Yoongi and sit him down on Namjoon's lap when it looks like Yoongi might lose his balance and tip over in his post-orgasm endorphin rush.
Yoongi kisses him afterwards, soft and easy, and Namjoon feels like he's won a medal, or maybe, more precisely, like he's just run a marathon. He loves how sweet Yoongi always is with him afterwards, but it feels different this time. Yoongi's whole presence seems calmer, more settled in his skin, and he just laughs when Namjoon finally settles back against the pillows and swipes at the come on his skin.
"Oh, like it's never happened to you before while jerking off," he rasps, his eyes bright and happy. Namjoon snickers, nodding in agreement reaching out towards his bedside table for the box of tissues he's pretty sure he left… somewhere. Somewhere around here.
He finds them down on the side of the bed, leadings to a long and precarious moment where he almost tips them both over and Yoongi cackles as he holds onto Namjoon's headboard for dear life. It feels… right. Yoongi is normally lazy and sweet and languid after sex; but up until now, Namjoon's never heard him let out more than a sated chuckle afterwards. Namjoon smiles again, leaning in to kiss Yoongi's nose as they help clean each other up. Yoongi allows it, his mouth quirking like he's trying not to smile.
"Stay here with me? Tonight?" Namjoon says, all in a rush, because his heart is suddenly so full. He wonders how to phrase the next part of his sentence so he doesn't offend Yoongi, but still gets his message across. "It would be… nice to wake up together."
"You're a fucking sap," Yoongi says, wrinkling his nose but not even trying to hide his small, pleased grin. "Seriously?"
"Seriously," Namjoon says, linking their fingers together on top of his chest. It's goofy and dumb but Namjoon is tired of playing games, tired of trying to be chill about the situation. Namjoon has no fucking chill. He knows this about himself, and 98% of the time he's okay with it, and right now is one of those times.
Yoongi…Yoongi is just going to have to deal.
"I'll think about it," Yoongi replies. His expression is trying desperately for nonchalance, but the soft kiss dropped on Namjoon's nose soon afterwards tells Namjoon everything he needs to know right now.