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When they meet, it’s on the bus to school, and Hoseok doesn’t think anything of it. He just falls asleep in his seat on the way, then wakes up to a vaguely familiar face shaking him in a gentle but firm manner and telling him it’s their stop.

He realizes after a second that the guy is wearing a sweatshirt from the same university, must have seen Hoseok around campus and just decided to be nice and not let him miss the stop. Hoseok mumbles an apology and a sincere thanks, and in his groggy state even ends up divulging his narcolepsy to this stranger, as if he owes him some sort of explanation for falling asleep. 

The guy who woke him up seems to be everywhere after that, but it’s not weird or anything. He’s nice, and he actually ends up waking Hobi up a couple more times, just during the first few days after the first incident. It’s almost like he’s keeping his eyes out for Hoseok.

He learns his name is Namjoon, and they become casual friends pretty quickly. Truth be told, Hobi doesn’t have many friends at all, let alone anyone who knows about his condition or would look out for him if they did. He’s always worried that if he tells someone, they’ll just do what his parents did: encourage him to stay home and ‘be safe’, instead of pursuing a normal life like he wants to.

But Namjoon is so nice! He makes it his priority to make sure Hoseok never falls asleep (or well, stays asleep, anyway) at critical times, and he even keeps an eye on him while he naps during the moments that allow it.

Hobi is happy to have found someone so kind, and for months he suspects nothing of it.


Namjoon is ecstatic that he found Hoseok, too. But admittedly, his reasons are much less pure. 

The first time he saw the man sleeping, it was the sweet little noises he made that drew Joon in. He could see a small tent in the man’s jeans, and the idea that this guy was just passed out right across the aisle from him, having a wet dream right out in public, was enough to have him swelling in his own boxers. He didn’t know about Hobi’s condition yet, though, so he kept his hands to himself.

He wasn’t expecting for the naive man to just freely hand such sensitive information over to him, but god, Joon was happy that he did. 

He took it upon himself to get acquainted with him and earn his trust, all just a means to an end. Hoseok was insanely beautiful after all, all bright eyes and sharp angles, pretty heart-shaped lips. Who could blame him for taking advantage of such a tempting opportunity? Namjoon never kept his hands to himself again.

He always led Hoseok to the back of the bus, or to the corner booth when they went out for food, to the most secluded table in the library for study sessions. 

And then all he would have to do is just...  Wait.

The more comfortable that the other got around Namjoon, the more lax he was about staying awake when he didn’t need to. Sometimes Namjoon would even encourage him to just close his eyes for a bit, to take advantage of undemanding moments. He’d tell him he’d look out for him, that he’d make sure no one bothered him and that he didn’t miss anything important. 

And once Hoseok’s breathing evened out and his eyelids started twitching, Namjoon would take his fill.

It started sort of tame, with just gentle, exploring touches. Joon would stroke him along his inner thighs, trailing his hand up to cup him between his legs and massage his soft cock lightly, getting it as hard as he was able to with such shy touches in whatever meager timeframe he’d been allotted.

He was always wary at first, constantly watching Hoseok’s face for a response, glancing furtively around in fear of being caught. Or maybe it was anticipation. Maybe he wanted someone to catch him. 

He should feel guilty. He should be disgusted with himself. But the thought of someone witnessing Hoseok getting molested, maybe even being turned on by it- it was so fucking hot. And so were the unintentional noises that slipped from his new friend’s lips, the pathetic little whimpers Namjoon could coax out when he squeezed just a little. He saved those precious sounds for moments when they were the only ones around, though, not actually wanting some Good Samaritan to catch him with his hand between Hoseok’s legs and interrupt them. 

But as time goes on, Namjoon stops fearing that his touches will wake Hobi up. He has to shake him awake pretty roughly more often than not, so he knows the paranoia is baseless. He’s a deep sleeper. And soon simple touches and gentle groping through layers of clothes simply aren’t enough anymore. 


Namjoon gets bolder.

The first time he takes it farther, they’re in the library. It’s just a sudden impulse, not premeditated in any way. He slips his hand inside Hoseok’s sweats and strokes him over his boxers a few times before delving into the opening at the front and taking Hobi’s cock in his hand.

It’s the first time he’s had skin on skin, and fuck. It’s so good. Hoseok is soft, no trace of arousal, and so warm in his hand. 

Hobi grooms meticulously he discovers, letting his fingers slide over every inch he can reach at this angle. He has hair, but it’s secluded to a closely-trimmed, rectangular patch just above his dick, his balls and the creases of his legs free of even a hint of stubble.

Namjoon has to bite back a groan at just how Hoseok it is, decidedly masculine but so well-kempt. He bets it looks even prettier than it feels.

He can’t help but slip his fingers a little lower, curious as to exactly how much of himself Hoseok keeps hairless. 

His reaching digits just barely stretch far enough to brush over the pucker of his hole, and Joon feels his own cock throb when he confirms that part of him is perfectly soft and smooth as well, not a single stray hair to be found.

He rubs a dry fingertip against the tight muscle, so, so tempted to just push in, to dip inside and feel the heat of Hoseok’s body close around him. To witness the delicious little whine of discomfort that would undoubtedly spill from his lips. Maybe even the flutter of his eyelids, maybe the slight pain would be enough to have him blinking awake, staring confusedly up at his friend.

But Namjoon hears a laugh on the other side of the bookshelf, and it has him jerking his hand out of Hobi’s boxers in an instant. The waistband of his pants snaps sharply against his belly and the boy opens his eyes with a start, sleep still clinging, not quite letting him focus immediately on his surroundings. 

Thinking fast, Namjoon forces a smile that passes for natural. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he quips. “Sorry to wake you up. Got a call, I have to head over to a friend’s. Didn’t want to just leave you here alone.”

Hoseok blinks the fog out of his vision, nodding in understanding.

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Thanks man, you’re always looking out.”

Joon helps him gather his stuff and makes him promise to text him when he gets home safe as they walk out together. Hoseok beams at him and thanks him again, then heads to the bus stop, and Joon slips into the bathroom of the coffee shop on campus and uses the hand-soap to jerk himself off to what feels like the best and quickest orgasm of his life, all the while anticipating. Wondering what he should do, how far he should go with this next time.


It’s nearly two weeks later when he gets another chance. The pair had stayed late again at the campus library, rushing to complete last minute work and compare answers on their finals’ study guides until the librarian had booted them out and closed up for the night.

They’re barely in time to catch the last bus. They’d discovered a while back that their apartments are in the same part of town, and both of them are grateful to be headed in the same direction. Hoseok, because it means he won’t have to worry about falling asleep and accidentally missing his stop, and Joon, because of his own sick cravings.

They’re the only people on the bus when they climb on and make their way to the last seat, and Namjoon is ecstatic. But right before the doors slide shut, another student from their university hurries on.

Joon doesn’t really know him, though he thinks he’s seen him around- he looks a bit younger, probably in his first or second year- and he takes a seat about midway up the bus, a couple rows in front of them.

While Namjoon is a little disappointed to not be completely alone with Hobi, he can’t complain.

This is still the most secluded he’s had him in ages, so it definitely could have been worse. 

And Hoseok’s eyes are already drooping by the time they pull off, though he makes an adorable effort at keeping them open.

Joon nudges him with his shoulder and gives him a fond smile.

“Go ahead, sleeping beauty,” he encourages, revelling in the rose tint that dusts Hobi’s perfect cheekbones at the comment. “I’ll wake you when we’re close to our stop.”

Hoseok just smiles drowsily back with a little nod, willing and trusting, eyes slipping closed almost before he even completes the action.

Namjoon waits, antsy, having to physically restrain himself from touching during the couple of minutes it takes for Hobi to really sink under. The bus ride is normally a long one, but there’s not many people out on the streets at this hour, so it’ll definitely be shorter tonight.

But he already knows what he wants to do, so the second Hoseok’s breathing evens out, he re-situates himself on the seat, turning his back more towards the window and gently tugging Hoseok against him until his head rests on Joon’s chest like a pillow.

He reaches down and shifts Hobi’s lower half just a little, settling him a bit more onto his left hip. At this angle, the sleeping man’s bottom is mostly off of the seat, legs parted just slightly, giving Namjoon much easier access when he slips his hand in Hoseok’s pants.

He starts at the front, craving the feeling of Hobi’s soft hair and warm, flaccid little cock in his palm again, but he doesn’t linger there for long. Just gives it a few gentle squeezes, rolls it around between his fingers. He stops the second he feels it starting to plump up.

There’s just something about Hoseok being soft during all this. Something that makes it that much clearer that he’s unaware of what’s being done to his body. It stokes the embers burning in Joon’s gut, makes his heart race.

A glance up to the front tells him the bus driver hasn’t taken his eyes off the road, and the kid from their uni is laying against the wall on his side of the bus in a position much like Namjoon’s, head resting back on the window and eyes closed.

Joon almost wishes they were open, even though the guy wouldn’t be able to see much from his position.

The bus fills up a little more at the next stop, three more people getting on. Namjoon reluctantly pulls his hand from Hobi’s pants in case one of them walks back. They all sit towards the front though, the man in the very first seat, and the two women sharing the one right in front of the boy who got on with Joon and Hobi. Namjoon starts to ease his hand back under Hoseok’s belt.

But the women are loud, laughing and talking at a volume that has the boy’s eyes opening. He glances at them with slightly an irritated expression, then just grabs his bag and stands, moving farther towards the back.

Namjoon’s hand pulls back again, resting on Hobi’s hip when the kid chooses the seat one row up from them, still on the opposite side. 

He tosses his bag down and almost immediately settles into the same position he was in before he moved, and Namjoon hesitates.

With the way the boy is laying, his head tilted slightly over the back of his seat, he could see most of Hobi and Joon’s bodies if he were to open his eyes. He would be able to see exactly what Namjoon is up to, a thought that both excites and scares him a little. But his need wins out in the end.

Namjoon shoves two fingers in his own mouth as he shifts Hoseok just a little bit more, allowing room for his hand to slip between Hobi’s ass and the back of the seat without too much struggle. It would be so much easier if he could just pop the button on Hoseok’s pants and tug his zipper down, but he doesn’t want to chance that in case he has to stop in a hurry. He wouldn’t be able to explain away unzipped pants. 

Another glance at the boy across from them reassures him that he’s still unaware, and then Namjoon is pulling his fingers from his mouth, soaked in spit, and pushing his hand back down in Hobi’s briefs. 

He squeezes at a soft cheek as best he can with his two dry fingers and his thumb, almost groaning under the fleshy give, and then he’s slipping the two wet ones further down, reaching until he feels the pucker of Hoseok’s entrance at his fingertips. 

Joon bites his lip, a bit nervous, rubbing at it in increasingly more firm little circles, massaging his saliva into the rim. He’s never gone this far, doesn’t know if the pressure and stretch of what he wants could end up waking Hobi up, doesn’t know how the fuck he’d get himself out of this if it does. 

But he’s pushing in anyways, only letting the tight muscle close around his first knuckle before the second finger is joining the first.

Hoseok twitches away from his fingers with a harsh exhale through his nose, and Joon stops, heart beating out of his chest.

He glances down, sees Hobi’s brow furrowed in a way that looks more confused than pained, and waits several seconds for it to smooth out, for his face to relax back into peaceful non-expression.

Then he spreads his fingers just barely, scissors them in almost indecipherable movements to loosen Hoseok up just a tiny bit. Just enough that the drag will be less intense.

He pulls back to his fingertips then pushes in again, slowly, until the second knuckle of both push past the rim and Hoseok’s heat closes around his digits, swallowing them almost all the way up. 

Joon lets his head fall back against the window, biting his lip to hold back a moan.

He takes one deep breath after another, and then withdraws and thrusts in again, a little deeper, a little faster than he meant to.

And Hoseok lets out a whine, crowding further against Joon to escape the feeling. His hand clenches a little in the fabric of Namjoon’s shirt, and Joon nearly has a heart attack. His eyes shoot back up to the boy across the aisle, and he stops breathing.

Because the guy’s eyes are open now, and he’s looking straight at them.

He blinks a couple times, whether sleepy or just dazed, Joon doesn’t know. But it’s clear from the way his eyes widen that he sees what’s going on. 

And Namjoon knows he looks guilty. He knows that all the color has drained from his face, and that he probably looks just as petrified as he feels. 

The boy straightens a little, looks like he’s about to say something, and Joon thinks ‘this is it’. He’s fucked.

He starts to withdraw his hand, as if that would somehow help him in this situation, but then the guy’s eyes drop again. Not all the way down like before. Just to around Joon’s chest, Hobi’s face.

His eyes goes even wider for a second, and Namjoon sees him swallow. Then he’s suddenly turning around and facing the front of the bus with ears so red Joon would find it hilarious any other time. 

Namjoon glances down at Hoseok’s face, but it’s peaceful again, not even a trace of the discomfort from Joon’s overzealous thrust still there. His breathing is still deep, undisturbed.

Namjoon wants to thrust in again, wants to really fuck him on his fingers, fantasizes about waking him up like that. 

But they’re nearing their stop, so he pulls his fingers out as gently as possible, reaching around to feel the warm weight of Hoseok’s cock in his hand again before he has to stop and wake him up. It’s thickened up quite a bit, almost hard, and a little jolt of satisfaction has Namjoon’s own dick throbbing in his jeans with the thought that Hoseok enjoyed having Joon inside him, even unaware as he was.

He withdraws as they turn onto the street they get off at, eases Hoseok back to where he’s more on the bus seat than on Namjoon himself. One more long look makes sure nothing’s out of place, and then he’s shaking him in that practiced, firm manner.

It still takes a few tries, but Namjoon’s good at it by now, and Hobi’s blinking his eyes open a few seconds later, fixating immediately on Namjoon’s smiling face. 

“Morning, sunshine,” he grins as usual, and Hoseok beams back instantaneously. The man’s clear trust in Joon is something that always simultaneously sparks satisfaction and a little bit of guilt. 

Just a little bit, though. 

“We’re getting off now.”

A nod and a stretch is all the reply they have time for, and then the bus is pulling to a stop and they’re scrambling to their feet.

Namjoon can’t help but look back at the stranger when he reaches the front, and a sick sort of excitement thrums through him when he catches the boy watching them, teeth worrying his bottom lip. He blushes fiercely and averts his gaze, but it was enough.

Joon can easily recognize flustered arousal when it’s staring him straight in the face. 

He and Hoseok part ways with a one-armed hug and a promise to text each other when they’re safely inside, and Namjoon can’t help the giddiness bubbling up as he heads home.

Somehow he’s certain this won’t be the last they see of that specific stranger.


And he’s right, of course, though it’s not until the last day before winter break that it happens. The majority of the campus is deserted already, gone home to their families as soon as they finished with finals. 

Namjoon isn’t very close with his, though, and Hoseok had divulged that he had no intention of going home for the break, either. Namjoon didn’t ask why, and Hoseok seemed thankful for it. So they hang around on the last day, spend a couple hours in the coffee shop before it closes, just talking and laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Namjoon finds himself thinking that maybe, if things had gone a little differently, if he hadn’t already crossed so many fucked up lines, he’d take advantage of a moment like this to ask Hobi on a date.

Yet he still can’t really find it in himself to regret it, watching the way Hoseok’s cheeks flush pink at something he’d said. That probably (definitely) makes him a terrible person. But at least he gets to have Hobi in a way that he’s fairly certain no one else has or will. It’s a little bittersweet, he thinks, how he feels like something as chaste as holding Hoseok’s hand would be crossing a boundary now that he’s betrayed his trust so often.

But soon enough the coffee shop is closing up, and they head to the bus stop, having to wait for a good few minutes before it’s scheduled to arrive. They’re not exceptionally late this time, but the bus stop is still deserted, and Namjoon is hoping the bus will be fairly empty today, too. Hoseok sits a little closer to him on the bench than usual, and Namjoon forces himself not to read into it. 

Just as the vehicle rounds the corner down the street, he hears someone come jogging up from behind them.

He doesn’t have time to check who it is before they’re grabbing their bags and stepping up to board. 

It’s not quite as empty as it had been the last time he touched Hobi, but the ten or so passengers are all sitting fairly close to the front, the seats at the very back left open.

Namjoon leads the way back, sliding into the seat against the wall, Hoseok quickly plopping down beside him. He revels in his opportunity, but a second later someone is sliding into the seat directly across from them, and he wants to curse the world, pitch a tantrum at the unfairness of having the last chance he would get for a whole month to indulge in Hoseok taken away.

...Until he glances up.

It’s the guy from before, and he catches Namjoon’s eyes with a slightly guilty look, cheeks already flushing, as he leans back against the wall just as he had before, and pulls his bag over his lap. 

Joon can’t help the small, incredulous smirk that tugs at the corner of his mouth, and the boy wrenches his gaze away, pops his earphones in, and closes his eyes deliberately. 

It’s not fooling anyone. Namjoon knows exactly why he’s there. It takes him a second to realize Hobi said something, and he turns his attention back to him apologetically.

“Sorry, what’s up?”

Hoseok pouts in concern, his voice almost a whisper when he speaks.

“Are you okay? I was saying I was going to take a nap, but if you’re feeling out of it or something, I can try to stay awa-“

“No,” Joon interrupts, probably a little too quickly. “No, go ahead. I’m fine. I promise.” 

Hoseok squints a little, skeptic, but Namjoon knows he’s been fighting it since they sat down at the bus stop, so he can’t really argue.

He’s out by the time they reach the first stop. Joon gives it until the second one to make a move, wanting to make sure he’s had time to really fall asleep. 

But then he doesn’t hesitate. 

Namjoon sits back against the wall, and slowly eases Hobi over, turning him sideways until he lays comfortably with his back against Joon’s chest. He’s wearing sweatpants today, and Namjoon has never been more thankful for the things in his life.

Stretching down and to the side, he unzips the front of his bag and snags the little packet he’d been carrying with him since the last time. He glances over at the stranger when he brings it to his mouth and tears it open. The boy’s eyes are cracked, just enough to tell that he’s clearly not resting them like he’s pretending, and Namjoon notices with a thrill that one of his hands has disappeared beneath the bag on his lap. 

He wonders if he’s touching himself already, or if he’s waiting for Joon to slip his hand in Hoseok’s pants. Wonders whose place he’d rather be in, if he’s imagining touching or being touched, or if he just simply likes watching.

Joon turns his attention back to what he’s doing, slips the condom out, and unrolls it partially onto two of his fingers. It’s less messy than just using lube, he figures, less chance of staining clothes or using too much. Though he had made sure to buy the extra-lubricated kind to make the slide easier.

Having an audience means changing his plan up a bit, taking his time and making a show of it, but he’s okay with that.

Shifting Hobi slightly onto his side, Namjoon reaches down with the prepared hand, slips it under the waistband of Hobi’s pants and-

God. Fuck.

He’s not wearing any underwear.

He’d spent the whole day with him and Joon hadn’t noticed once, thanks to the overly-baggy sweater Hoseok was swimming in. 

Namjoon can’t help but let out a soft groan, biting hard into his lip and grinding up, just once, into Hobi’s hip.

“God, such a good little slut,” he rasps, just above a whisper. “Making it so easy for me. Bet you love being so fucking easy, so filthy, fuck.”

He forgets about the stranger, until the boy lets out a nearly inaudible whine, the sound just barely reaching Joon’s ears.

His gaze snaps back over to him, and yeah, his hand is clearly moving now, the jerking of his shoulder subtle but definitely there. His eyes are open now too, as though he’s given up all pretense of not watching.

Namjoon smirks, bottom lip still caught between his teeth. He lets his free hand drift down to trace his fingers over Hoseok’s cock. It’s already half-hard, and Joon hasn’t even done anything yet. 

He figures Hobi was probably chubbing up for some reason or another before he went to sleep. That’s fine. Means he probably won’t think too much about the fact that he has an erection when he wakes up. 

“He’s a pretty little toy, isn’t he?” he murmurs. He cups Hoseok’s cock, molds the cloth around it to show the outline through his sweats.

“Not even wearing anything under this, just waiting for someone to come along and take advantage.”

His voice is quiet, but he can tell the boy heard him from the way his shoulder jerks more obviously, how he sucks his lips in to hold back another sound, eyes almost closing again.

Joon lifts the sweater enough to expose a sliver of skin at Hobi’s navel, then gently tugs the front of his pants down, slowly exposing his pretty hipbones and more flawless, tan skin.

He eases his fingers under the waistband, curls them around Hoseok’s cock, just barely obscured by the cloth, and gives it a few light tugs. 

Fixing his eyes on the stranger’s, Joon makes an impulsive decision to try something he’s never done before. He presses his lips to Hoseok’s neck, mouths at it gently, letting his tongue loll out and lave at the skin.

A tiny tremor runs through Hobi’s body, and Joon’s ego flares at the response.

The bus pulls to a stop, and both he and the stranger watch intently as a couple more people clamber on. More disembark though, so the bus isn’t really any fuller, and the newcomers settle near the middle.

Close enough that Joon knows he won’t be speaking out loud anymore, but not enough for them to stop. 

A glance across at the boy finds him already watching Joon again, and Namjoon’s drunk on the attention.

He shifts around a little until Hobi’s resting with his back fully against his chest again, then withdraws the hand with the condom from the back of Hoseok’s pants. 

Joon lets the boy see the glistening latex on his fingers, takes pleasure in the whine he can barely hear from across the aisle. Then he’s using the hand that’s already down the front of Hobi’s sweats to lift them so he won’t get lube on the cloth, and if that exposes the dark tip of Hoseok’s cock to the stranger, it’s just a bonus. 

Namjoon reaches down, skimming over the carefully groomed patch of hair, and farther still, lightly tracing the wet material over Hobi’s almost full erection and down past his balls.

He leans forward just a little to make the reach easier and give himself a better angle when he feels the pucker of Hoseok’s rim under his fingertips, and Hobi’s legs fall a tiny bit wider apart. Almost like his body is aware, inviting Joon in.

The idea of it is intoxicating, that Hoseok's body wants Namjoon inside, even when his conscious mind may not. Or maybe it’s not even Joon at all, maybe it’s just that Hobi has an innate need to have something inside him, to be filled up and pleasured and used like an object. 

Namjoon presses his mouth to Hoseok’s skin again when he pushes his fingers inside, teeth catching on the curve of his shoulder but not bearing down enough to leave a mark or cause any pain.

Hobi’s body tenses, he wriggles a bit and his brow furrows in what could be discomfort. But after a moment he still shows no sign of waking. 

Joon pulls back and pushes in deeper, the lubricant from the condom making the glide much smoother than the last time, and Namjoon curls his fingers carefully, searching. 

When he looks back across the aisle, their voyeur is biting his lip hard, bent at a more severe angle than before. He’s leaning forward slightly, and his thick thighs are spread open farther. 

As Namjoon watches, the kid lets out a gasp that’s at least partially pain, and his shoulder moves slower than before. It’s pretty clear that he’s not simply jacking off anymore. Namjoon supposes that answers the question of whose place the boy wants to be in. 

Joon moves the hand on Hoseok’s cock, a slow, long stroke that’s clearly visible under the material of his pants. Then he throws caution to the wind and lets go long enough to tug the cloth down, exposing Hobi’s hard cock nearly to the base. 

Their voyeur releases his grip on his bag, hand flying up to his mouth so he can bite down on the side of it, clearly no longer trusting himself to be quiet enough. Namjoon is barely even paying attention to what the fingers of his other hand are doing anymore as he strokes so softly, teasingly, at Hoseok’s dick. He’s nearly given up at finding Hobi’s prostate when he presses, almost harshly, straight into it. Joon’s barely able to relinquish his hold on the man’s cock in time to fit his hand over Hoseok’s mouth, catching the noise he makes as his body seizes up. 

He stares intently, but Hoseok’s eyes don’t open, and Joon just presses again, massaging firmly into the spot until Hoseok is almost writhing in his sleep, panting into Joon’s hand.

And then he hears a quiet, strangled sound, almost a sob, from the seat across from them, looking up in time to watch the boy bite down hard as his hips jerk up against his backpack multiple times in quick succession He collapses back against the wall when he’s done, eyes scrunched shut as he catches his breath. 

Namjoon squeezes Hoseok a little harder than he should, kicking his hips up against him without meaning to at the realization. The other boy just came, finger-fucking himself on a bus to the sight of Joon molesting Hoseok while he slept. 

It’s so hot, it’s so fucking hot he can’t think straight, sucks and bites too hard at Hobi’s throat, almost comes in his own pants. 

But he manages to get himself under control, glancing furtively around to make sure no one noticed anything. It doesn’t seem like anyone did, nobody is looking their way or calling the cops to report them for public indecency or anything. 

They are nearing their street though, and Joon blinks a few times in surprise. He’d completely missed the five or so other stops along the way. Which is a little dangerous, realistically, but he chooses not to dwell on that. 

He pulls his hands back slowly, fingers slipping out of Hoseok and gently tugging up his pants. Then he turns the condom inside out and grabs a napkin from his bag, wads it up inside, and slips it in his pocket to throw away when he gets off the bus. 

He wipes carefully at the saliva he’d left on Hoseok’s shoulder, grimacing with an anxious heart when he sees the little indentations from his teeth. God, he hopes he didn’t bite hard enough to form a bruise. 

When he has Hobi as put together as he’s going to get, Namjoon takes a couple deep, calming breaths, situates himself so his erection isn’t too noticeable, and then shakes him awake.

It doesn’t take much at all this time, and Joon wonders if maybe he’d actually been closer to waking Hoseok up with his ministrations than he’d realized. He’d been entirely too reckless this time, something he’ll definitely have to reign it in the future. 

“Here already?” Hobi pouts, rubbing cutely at one of his eyes. 

Namjoon has to fight the sudden impulse to lean forward and catch that pout in a kiss, scrape his teeth over Hobi’s bottom lip, taste his mouth on his own tongue. He wants to know if it tastes as sweet as Hoseok’s skin.

“Yep,” he smiles instead. It’s only a little forced. “Almost home now.”

He doesn’t want to think about the fact that he won’t see Hoseok for four weeks after they get off the bus. It has an ugly feeling curling in his chest, an intense discontent that he doesn’t really think he has any right to be feeling.

“Happy holidays, Jungkookie! See you next year.” Hobi says as they stand when the bus pulls to a stop. 

It takes Namjoon much longer than he’d like to admit to realize that Hoseok is talking to the boy who’d watched Joon molest him. The kid blushes fiercely and nods, mumbling something that sounds like a “you too, hyung.

“You know that guy?” Namjoon can’t help but ask as they walk to the front.

“Hm? Jungkook?” Hoseok clarifies. “Yeah, sort of. We’re not super close or anything, but he’s in the dance class I assist with.”

Namjoon just hums, trying to remain nonchalant about it. He really doesn’t want to think about how risky that is. Jungkook could mention something to Hoseok at any time, and it could all come crashing down. 

“You... um. You think he’s cute, or something?”

The question is almost... meek. Like Hoseok maybe doesn’t actually want him to answer it. Namjoon stares.

“What makes you ask that?”

Hobi shrugs, not meeting his eyes. 

“Just wondering,” he replies. His voice is too casual, too carefully neutral. “Saw how you stared at him when we sat down earlier.”

Namjoon lets out a bark of a laugh, eyeing Hoseok incredulously, before seeing that the other man is uncharacteristically serious. 

“I mean, sure. He’s cute,” he admits after a moment. “But he’s not exactly my type.”

He’d have to be blind not to see the way Hobi’s demeanor brightens at his words, but he refuses to let himself think too long on it. 

They’re off now, and the both of them just sort of linger, wrapping their coats closer around themselves when the icy breeze hits them. Namjoon breaks the silence first. 

“So, um. Have a good break, I guess. Take care of yourself, try not to fall asleep alone in public or anything, okay?”

Hobi smiles a little shyly. 

“Yeah, I’ll take care. Don’t really plan on going out much, but I’ll make sure I’m with someone if I do. You take care of yourself, too!”

They stand for another awkward moment, and then Hobi is lurching forward to catch him in a tight hug, stepping away before Joon has time to reciprocate. He squeaks out a ‘bye!’ and then he’s hurrying off through the snow. 

Namjoon watches him walk about a dozen steps, and then the man is turning abruptly, taking a few back towards him before stopping, wringing his hands in front of him.

“Um. Actually. I was just- I don’t want to impose, or anything, but. Do you maybe want to hang out at some point? We don’t have to, or anything. It’s just-“ he takes a deep breath and lets his hands flop to his sides, staring pointedly away from Namjoon as he rambles. 

“It’s just, my roommate is gone home, and so are my other friends, and I just really don’t like being alone too often. I’m not trying to guilt you into anything, I promise, and you can definitely say no if you have plans or just want to be alone. It just gets lonely, and I was wonder-“

“Hoseok,” Namjoon interrupts. “Of course I’d be happy to spend time with you. Whenever you want.”

Hobi stops, lets himself breath for a second, then finally meets his gaze. There’s something in his eyes, a glint that Joon can’t really place.

“Whenever I want?” 

Namjoon smiles and nods, like his heart isn’t about to bruise his ribs with how hard it’s beating because of what he’s about to say, the chance he’s about to take.

“Absolutely. You could... you could even just stay with me, if you want. For the break. If that would make you feel better, or safer or anything. I don’t have a roommate anymore, so I have a spare bedroom you can use.”

Hoseok just blinks at him for a long while, but then his lips tilt up at the edges. 

“I could stay with you? For the whole break? You’d really put up with me for that long?”

Namjoon laughs out loud at that.

“Trust me,” he replies. “It would be my pleasure.”

Hobi’s beaming now, and not for the first time, Namjoon almost feels guilty. 


“Yeah,” Hoseok replies, bouncing cutely on the balls of his feet. “Yeah, okay. Um. I’ll come by tomorrow, then?”

“Tomorrow,” Joon parrots back. “Can’t wait.”


Having Hoseok in his apartment wasn’t something Namjoon had ever even let himself imagine, honestly. The thought of him in his personal space, set apart completely from the rest of the world- it was too tempting of a thought. And one that led down other roads as well, ones that Joon told himself he didn’t deserve the privilege of entertaining, even for a moment.

He’s been doing that a lot lately, he realizes. Having to catch himself, stop his desires from straying into territory that was too innocent, too pure for what he’d made of their relationship. Still, it’s hard, when Hoseok is lounging so prettily on his couch, legs tossed over the arm and his head on Joon’s lap.

It’s hard not to imagine cuddling together on this same sofa on the weekends. Or waking up late, tangled together in the mornings. Hard not to imagine what maybe could have been if Joon had never known about Hoseok’s narcolepsy, or had maybe just never been a disgusting pervert in general. It makes him doubt, for just a moment. Makes him hesitate when Hobi falls asleep in that same position, mouth slightly open and eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. 

It’s only two in the evening, but they have absolutely nothing to do with their day. They’re alone, tucked away in Joon’s cozy home, with absolutely no threat of disturbance. 

And Namjoon doesn’t touch him. He considers it, debates with himself, but decides to wait. Tells himself that he’s just putting it off to let Hoseok settle in, trying not to make him suspicious his first day there. It has nothing to do with guilt, he insists to himself. Never that. He’s too far past redemption for guilt to be effective or beneficial in any way.

When Hobi wakes up from his nap an hour later, Namjoon is in the kitchen fixing them an early dinner, and later that night, he helps Hoseok get situated in the spare bedroom, leaves an extra rag and towel out in the bathroom in case Hoseok wakes up before him and wants to wash up. Then he just lays down and reads until he falls asleep to the muffled soundtrack of whatever movie Hobi is still awake and watching on the other side of the wall. 

The next day goes much the same, and the one after that. Namjoon is a little disgusted with himself, if he’s honest. Having Hoseok around constantly is fucking with his head, and he’s slipping, he’s letting it. Letting himself indulge in this new, fragile sort of domesticity, letting himself entertain the thought of being someone who deserves the attention and trust Hobi so willingly lavishes on him. 

He doesn’t, and he tries to keep that in mind, to keep himself from hoping, to keep the negativity and guilt that he starts to feel more and more often as a product of his actions at bay. He knows he should just keep going like he has been, keep taking what he wants and accepting that he’s just a terrible person. 

Wanting to change it wouldn’t do him any good. Feeling guilt for something he takes so much pleasure in wouldn’t do any good. Even if, by some miracle of fate, Hoseok could ever possibly forgive him for taking advantage of him on so many occasions, it wouldn’t mean anything.

Because, even if Namjoon were to confess, even if he were to allow Hobi to forgive him, it wouldn’t change the fact that Namjoon loved it.

And it wouldn’t stop him from doing it again.

So he exists in this weird, too-aware state for days, caught between guilt and decidedly not feeling guilty, while Hoseok settles in and gets comfortable, makes a temporary home of his apartment. 


After four days, he starts to notice that Hobi is a little quieter. A little bit distant, like maybe something’s wrong. Usually Namjoon would be quick to ask him if he’s alright, if he’s feeling okay. He doesn’t let himself this time, tries to go back to not really caring. But a part of his brain registers that maybe that’s what’s wrong with Hoseok, that maybe the other man is just picking up on Joon’s own tumultuous moods. So he acts as naturally as he can, goes back to sitting close to Hobi on the couch and starting conversations. 

Despite everything, he doesn’t want to make Hoseok feel like he’s unwelcome, or that Joon regrets inviting him to stay.


Around day eight, Hobi seems to have shaken off whatever it was, or at the very least is making an effort to pretend that he has. He’s smiling again, cracking corny jokes and laughing too loud in that open way that makes his lips form the shape of a heart. Namjoon is relieved and endeared, and he kind of hates himself for it.

“I think I’m just gonna take a quick shower and head to bed.”

Namjoon snaps out of his daze, forcing his gaze to focus on Hoseok’s eyes instead of his lips.

“You feeling okay?”

Hobi nods.

“Yeah I’m good, just a little more tired than usual, feel like it’ll be more than just a quick nap if I let my eyes close. Probably the beer.”

He’s only had one, but Namjoon’s noticed that he’s a bit of a lightweight. He hums and takes a sip of his own, offers a smile.

“Go ahead then, I won’t keep you. Might lay down soon myself.”

Hoseok returns the smile as he gets up and stretches, and then he heads down the hall, stopping to toss his bottle in the trash as he passes the kitchen. 

Leaning his head back against the arm of the couch, Namjoon stares blankly at the ceiling until he hears the shower start up, then just pulls out his phone and starts thumbing through social media. After a while he gives up on finding something to hold his attention, and he downs the rest of his drink before tossing the bottle and shutting himself in his room.

As he throws himself down on the bed, he wonders briefly if the two beers he drank will be enough to help him sleep through the night this time.


It’s not. The time on his phone reads 2:47 a.m. when Namjoon gives up and grabs for it blearily, after several minutes of laying there with his eyes closed, trying to will himself back to sleep. He lets out a sigh and his hand drops heavily back to the mattress. He hasn’t slept a full night a  single time since Hoseok had come to stay.

He pushes himself up with a groan a second later and clambers out of bed, the discomfort of his full bladder becoming too much to ignore. The apartment is quiet as he pads down the hall and relieves himself, and he figures Hobi must have woken up at some point to turn his television off. It had still been on when Namjoon had dozed earlier. 

The door to Hoseok’s room is ajar when Namjoon passes back by it, a soft light filtering out into the dark hallway. On instinct, he peeks inside, and a slow heat starts to burn through him almost instantly.

The television isn’t off like Joon had suspected, it’s actually casting the light that he’d seen from the hall. Netflix is up, some series frozen on the ‘are you still watching?’ screen. It’s just enough to illuminate the bed, where Hoseok is sleeping, looking like he’d dozed off fresh out of the shower. There’s a towel secured loosely around his waist, legs hanging off the bed at the knees. His phone is still in his hand, resting against his chest like he’d been using it when he drifted off and just let it fall. 

Namjoon’s entranced. The edge of the bed bumps the front of his legs before he’s even fully aware that he’d entered the room. Hoseok is captivating. Completely relaxed, his chest rising and falling in that slow, steady rhythm it defaults to when he’s deepest in his sleep cycle. He’s vulnerable in a way that Namjoon has never seen him, never even imagined being allowed to see, the towel the only thing keeping him from being laid completely bare.

His golden skin shines darker in the dim light, and he’s mesmerizing. Exquisite. An offering displayed on an altar, Namjoon the receiving god. 

And with a final decisive thought, Namjoon casts away the doubt and the guilt. If he’s going to hell anyway, he’s going to make it well worth it. 

When he unwraps the towel, it’s with movements like a man possessed. He doesn’t feel like he’s in charge of his body anymore. Doesn’t feel like he’s even actively making the decisions to move. It’s like he’s standing back, out of body, watching the scene through a screen. 

With Hoseok finally splayed out on a bed beneath him, bare and vulnerable and unaware, nothing feels real anymore. Namjoon has wanted this for too long, to have Hoseok completely to himself somewhere away from prying eyes, somewhere where he could just take and take and take without interruption or distraction. It doesn’t seem possible that it’s finally happening. But Joon has never been one to question a blessing. 

Hoseok’s body is just as pretty as Namjoon knew it would be. There’s an ethereal quality to him, thanks to the glow of the television, his edges and angles thrown into deeper contrast. His privates are as carefully groomed as they always seem to the touch, his soft cock dark and small, nestled on the manicured patch of hair. There’s a light smattering of hair covering his legs, too, but it doesn’t take away from the appeal in the slightest. Just makes him look soft, natural. Real. 

“So beautiful,” Namjoon murmurs.

He lets a hand reach out and trace gently from Hoseok’s hip to his knee. No response. Not like Namjoon had expected any. He hooks his fingers under Hoseok’s thigh and carefully spreads his legs a little wider.

“Look so good like this, baby. All spread out and pliant, easy for the taking.”

And then Namjoon is kneeling between his spread thighs, lavishing wet kisses along the soft skin. He wants to bite, but there’s so much more he wants to do to Hoseok first, can’t bear to chance waking him so soon. He decides to taste him in another way, instead.

Namjoon’s hands settle at the top of Hobi’s legs, just under his ass, and he forgoes the satisfaction of gripping the firm mounds of flesh to push Hoseok’s legs up, up and back, still spread, until his pretty hole is on display.

Namjoon imagines Hoseok waking up like this, so obscene and exposed, and the way his eyes would widen and his face would flush. He lets out a low groan, and then he’s diving forward as if pulled, burying his face between Hoseok’s legs. 

The first thing he does, is press his nose to the crease of Hobi’s thigh, just beneath his balls, and smell him. He takes a deep breath, letting Hoseok’s clean, musky scent drown his senses, feeling his own cock twitch in response to the heady stimulus.

“Smell so fucking good baby,” he rasps, pressing his lips lovingly to the sleeping man’s perineum, kisses that turn into licks, laps of his tongue that have him groaning at the taste.

Namjoon tightens his grip and explores lower, until his mouth meets Hoseok’s puckered entrance, laving wetly over the tight muscle. He doesn’t bother taking his time, just gives himself what he wants, licking and sucking lewdly. His tongue pushes in before he makes the conscious decision to let it, and he feels Hobi’s cock twitch. It’s starting to fill out slowly, stoking that possessive satisfaction in Namjoon’s gut. 

Hoseok is his, his body is Namjoon’s, and it knows it, takes pleasure in his touch even while Hobi’s mind is unresponsive. 

Joon presses a finger in maybe a little too soon, a little too fast. Hoseok twitches hard in his sleep and his legs try to close. The action is weak and Namjoon has no trouble holding them open against the momentary strain. 

He spits on Hoseok’s hole, pushes in again. But the drag is still dry, and Namjoon finally curses to himself and pulls out. The trek to his own room feels like a mile-long journey to his patience, but he knows he’s just being childish. The addition of lube proves well worth the slight inconvenience when he gets back, and he’s got a second finger pressing into Hoseok’s heat in just a couple short minutes. 

A sweeping glance over his body tells Namjoon his cock isn’t soft in the slightest anymore, curled hard and dark against Hoseok’s flat belly. 

Joon can’t help it, leans down to lick a strip along its length. It’s significantly bigger now than when it was soft, but still just a little below average. Namjoon loves it, loves the taste even more when he sucks the tip into his mouth, swipes his tongue over the leaking slit.

He only pulls back when Hoseok twitches in his mouth, not wanting to make him come. Hobi’s a deep sleeper, but Namjoon isn’t sure he could sleep through an orgasm, and he’s not done with him yet. 

A third finger makes its way in with more lube. Joon doesn’t bother trying to keep it minimal, casting away the initial worry that Hoseok will notice if he wakes up too wet down there. With what Namjoon plans on doing, that really won’t matter much anyway.

He debates on easing him further up on the bed and kneeling on it himself, but decides not to. It’d just be another risk. His dry hand fumbles with his sleep shorts as he kneels, and Namjoon only rises to his feet again once he’s got his own cock out.

He’d considered fucking Hoseok like this. Just taking him while he slept, pushing deep, maybe even fucking him awake. But it’s just a fantasy. Joon finds it hard to believe that anyone could actually sleep through getting fucked without some sort of aid, and he hasn’t quite reached the level of depravity required to drug his already narcoleptic friend. 

Maybe one day, though.

Instead, Namjoon just shifts them around, situates Hoseok’s calves on his shoulders and holds them there with one hand while he positions the head of his dick at Hoseok’s hole. And then he presses in, just a little. Just enough to have the slit of his cock push past Hobi’s rim, the muscle stretched around his very tip, the head not quite inside all the way. 

Namjoon holds himself steady there, adjusts to better support Hoseok’s legs.

And then he starts stroking his cock. Quick, rough strokes and tugs, the friction barely eased by the lube left on his hand from opening Hobi up. It takes everything in him not to let his hips buck forward. Not to just fuck into Hoseok’s tight heat with abandon and watch him jolt awake. 

He may not be able to fuck him like this, but Namjoon is still going to mark him. He’s going to paint Hobi’s walls with his come, fantasizes about leaving it there for him to find when he wakes up. 

The thought has Namjoon groaning out a curse, and his head falls back for a second, eyes squeezed shut. Arousal coils tighter and tighter in his gut, and it’s clear he won’t last long like this.

He should have kept his eyes open though. He’s thrown off balance slightly when he lets his head fall back, and has to fumble to keep upright. In the process, his one-armed grasp on Hoseok’s legs slips. Just a little. Just enough to have Hoseok’s body sinking abruptly down on Namjoon’s cock, half of it disappearing into him quickly. 

It’s sudden and unexpected, as is the way Hoseok cries out a desperate “god, fuck!” as his body tenses and his cock twitches, spilling streams of come across his stomach. 

When Namjoon’s gaze snaps in panic to his face, his eyes are open, fixed on Namjoon with dawning horror clear in their depths.

“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes. 

Because Hoseok is awake. Awake, and covered in his own come, with Joon’s cock halfway buried inside him.

“Fuck,” Namjoon says again, his voice clearly more strained. 

He goes to pull out on instinct, but Hoseok cries out, reaching desperately to grab a hold of Namjoon’s shorts, the only thing he can reach from this angle.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please don’t go, don’t leave, I’m sorry!”

And Namjoon freezes, somehow simultaneously aroused by Hoseok’s pleading and bewildered by his words. 

“Don’t... go?” he parrots back.

Hobi shakes his head desperately, and it looks like he’s seconds away from actually crying. Namjoon’s dick twitches inside him.

“You like this?” he says lowly. 

His voice is barely above a whisper, but Hoseok hears him, hides his face in his hands and lets out a sniffle.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. “I’m sorry, I know- I know it’s disgusting, and I know it’s fucked up, and I don’t mean to, I just-“

Hoseok,” Namjoon interrupts harshly. “I asked you a question.”

He’s not pulling back anymore, but he’s not pushing in either. Just standing there, only the tip inside, with Hoseok’s legs still thrown over his shoulders.

The shaking man takes a deep, ragged breath, and then nods almost imperceptibly, a meek “yes” barely escaping the cage his hands firm over his face.

“Yes, what?” Namjoon practically growls. 

He’s harder than ever, hotter than ever, arousal burning through every centimeter of his body, licking with anticipation through his veins.

When Hoseok doesn’t answer right away, he snaps, leaning forward to wrench Hobi’s hands away from his face, pinning them to the mattress on either side of his head. The shift has Hoseok bent nearly in half at the waist, a pained moan ripping from his throat as Namjoons cock is driven deeper inside him, almost to the hilt. 

Yes I like it!” he gasps. “I’m sorry, I like it, fuck, like it so much, please don’t stop, please don’t go!”

Namjoon’s eyes slip shut and he moans unrestrainedly, hips kicking forward sharply, the motion dragging a twin sound from the body beneath him.

“You like what?” he demands with another thrust. “Hm? What’s got you so desperate?”

The noise Hoseok makes can only be described as a sob. He arches off the bed as Namjoon snaps in again and stills his hips, but his eyes don’t leave Joon’s face. They’re wide and dark and pleading, and, god, Joon wants to ruin him. 

“L-like it- like it when you touch me-“ he gasps out. “When you t-take advantage- please-“ he cuts himself off with a whine as Namjoon starts rocking into him again, rougher this time, faster, deeper.

“You like it when I touch you?” Namjoon breathes. “Like when I molest you in your sleep? When I do whatever I want to your slutty little body?”

Hoseok’s words have devolved into one long keen now, broken up with little gasps of “yes” and “please”, Joon’s hips pistoning in and out at a brutal pace. The drag is rough, burns, barely enough lube to keep it shy of agonizing. Hoseok hadn’t been stretched enough for this, but neither of them are really able to care in the moment.

“Such a good little whore,” Joon grits through clenched teeth. “Always making it so easy, practically begging for it.”

A thought strikes him, and he slows, letting go of one of Hoseok’s wrists to grip his chin instead, fingers pressing hard into either side of Hoseok’s jaw. He forces him to look at him as he grinds deep inside of him, a sadistic glint in his eyes that has Hobi wanting to be hurt in all the best ways.

“How long have you known, baby?” Namjoon asks. “How many times have you woken up to me molesting you in public? How long have you just been letting it happen because you liked it?”

Hoseok debates on lying, just for a moment considering saying something to incriminate him less. But he feels like Joon would see right through it, and he doesn’t want to disappoint him. 

“Been- ah- suspected it since the library.”

It’s hard to concentrate on his words, and Hoseok doesn’t even know if Joon knows what day he’s talking about, doesn’t know if the day he’s thinking of was even the only day Namjoon touched him in the library. His body flushes at the thought of there being other times before. 

“You snapped- mmm, fuck- my boxers snapped, against my stomach, left a mark.”

Namjoon hums, then rewards him by picking up the pace again, fucking into him fast and deep.

Hoseok hadn’t even noticed that he’d already gotten hard again, but he’s leaking all over his belly and the mess that’s already dried there.

“Suspected?” Namjoon questions. “So you didn’t know for sure?”

“Thought I was crazy,” Hoseok whines. “Until the b-bus, the- until Jungkook.”

Namjoon shifts his angle and Hobi jolts with a cry as he pummels right into his prostate. His mind blanks for a second and he thrashes weakly, trying to squirm away from the intensity. He feels like he’s gonna come again and it’s too soon, he feels like it’s gonna hurt. 

Suddenly there’s a hand in his hair, gripping hard, and he’s being forced to look Namjoon in the eyes again.

“Who told you to stop talking?” he sneers, and Hoseok moans once, a tortured sound, before his words fall out in one long rush. 

“Thought I was dreaming! Saw him watching but didn’t think- not until he told me, apologized for watching, thought he interrupted us-“

“Fuck,” Namjoon curses. 

Hoseok had known, had felt it when he fingered him on the bus that day. 

“And what did you tell him, hm?” 

He’s not expecting for Hoseok to actually blush, not under the circumstances, with everything that’s been done and said so far. But that’s exactly what happens, Hobi’s face turning red as a rose. His hands twitch, like he wants to cover his face but catches himself at the last moment. Namjoon’s hand flexing in his hair is enough to have him answering in a hurry, something that has Namjoon wanting to grin with pride. His little toy is learning so fast.

“Told him we do it all the time,” Hobi practically whispers. “Told him- told him he could watch if he wanted to next time he caught us.”

Joon’s eyes widen and his hips fall out of rhythm momentarily at the confession. He didn’t know what he’d been expecting exactly, but that hadn’t been it. Though it explained Jungkook’s behavior the second time they’d met. 

The shock passes in a blink, and pure, unadulterated arousal takes its place.

“Told him he could watch, baby?” he repeats. “Wanted him to watch me ruin you like a little whore, use you like a toy?”

Hoseok moans as he nods, and the doubt that he’d  appeared to be carrying until now finally seems to have passed. There’s nothing but want in his eyes now, nothing but need, no insecurity or worry.

“Were you awake the second time? When he sat across from us?”

Surprisingly, Hobi shakes his head.

“No, went to sleep. Like- I like being asleep, like it when it’s real.”

Namjoon is so close, knows he could reach his peak at any time now. He chases it, finally releases Hoseok’s other wrist to clutch his hip instead. Hopes his fingers leave bruises, knows Hoseok does too. 

“Did you know he came?” he huffs through the exertion. “Sat his bag in his lap and fucked himself with his fingers watching you? Came right there in front of you, because of you, to the sight of your pretty little cock out there in the open and you being stuffed full of my fing-“

Hoseok bucks up one last time, all but his shoulders leaving the bed as he comes all over himself for the second time in a row. His jaw goes slack, and Namjoon loses the last bit of his control, sweeps away the last lingering ‘you don’t deserve him’ gnawing at his conscience. He leans even further forward, pushing in as deep as he can as he devours Hoseok’s mouth with his own. 

Hobi doesn’t even have the strength or coherency to kiss him back properly, just moans and licks into Namjoon’s mouth. It’s filthy, and wet, and the perfect first kiss for a couple of sick perverts like themselves, Namjoon thinks. 

They’re still locked together when Namjoon thrusts in one last time a few seconds later, spilling hot and thick deep inside of Hoseok, and Joon revels in it. In the mess and the filth. He can’t believe he got so lucky, can’t believe he really found the perfect toy, made just for him.