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Humming along to the music playing over the speakers, Namjoon flips through the record-filled crates in front of him. The record store is quiet today and Namjoon has the back aisles mostly to himself. This way he can take his time going through all the records without interruption, losing himself in the careful monotony of his search. Shuffling to the next row of crates, Namjoon freezes when he takes in the cover of the album at the front. He’d recognize the four circles of the cover art anywhere.
Excitement courses through him and he’s half convinced it must be a mirage. There’s no way his favorite band’s first album is right in front of him. Persona’s Wings hasn’t been in production for at least five years and only 5000 copies were made. The chances of…
Namjoon’s fingers tremble as he reaches out. It feels like he’s moving in slow motion, fingers curling to grip the corner and - another hand comes out of nowhere. The other hand closes around one side of the album while Namjoon grabs the other and… they both freeze.
Turning his head, Namjoon finds a man standing beside him. He’s startled, not having heard anyone approach. The man is glaring at him from beneath bleached bangs, lips set in a disgruntled pout.
“I saw it first,” he says, voice low and raspy.
Namjoon frowns right back at him. “I was clearly reaching for it,” he argues.
“Well, I touched it first,” the man huffs. His fingers give a small tug and Namjoon’s slide against the plastic sleeve covering the album.
“We touched it at the same time,” Namjoon insists. “But I was reaching for it, so it’s mine.”
The other man snorts and shakes his head, eyes narrowing. “I didn’t realize it was a competition.”
“You’re making it one!” Namjoon has the grace to be embarrassed by the way his voice raises. He clears his throat. “Persona’s my favorite band.”
“Same,” the man says evenly. “Good thing I saw the album first then.”
They go back and forth for a few minutes, and Namjoon feels increasingly more flustered. The man, this guy, shows no sign of backing down and maybe Namjoon is a little intimidated. He’s shorter than Namjoon, looking small in an oversized hoodie and with his bad bleach job. But his eyes, dark and piercing, stare at Namjoon like he can see right through him and, shit, it’s unnerving.
“You can have it,” Namjoon says finally, letting go of the cover.
The man blinks at him and then his pouty lips curl up in a small smile. The smile and the eyes are… it’s a lot. He’s cute. Feline eyes and soft, pink cheeks, that smile. “I knew you’d see reason,” the man says, lifting the record from the box and hugging it to his chest.
“Yeah, well…” Namjoon trails off, rolling his eyes.
Namjoon expects him to leave, but he stays there, studying Namjoon. “Persona is playing here this weekend. You going?”
“Uh, yeah,” Namjoon responds. “I have tickets. I’m really excited, actually. I wasn’t able to see their last tour so this is big for me.”
“Nice.” The man nods along. “Cool, cool. Maybe I’ll see you there, then?”
Is this guy flirting with him? Impossible. “Uh, yeah, maybe? That would be… cool?”
“It would.” The man smiles, a flash of teeth and gums, before he’s turning. “Later.”
Namjoon watches him go for a beat, two, and then shakes himself, jumping forward a little. “Wait!” The man turns his head, surprised, and Namjoon tries to recover. “Uh, what’s your name?”
The look of surprise turns into another smile. “Yoongi.”
“I’m Namjoon.”
The smile grows and then the man’s turning again, waving a hand over his shoulder. “See you around, Namjoon.”
---
Honestly, Namjoon knows the odds of actually seeing Yoongi at the show are pretty slim. The venue holds almost a thousand people and as Namjoon glances around at the crowd, he has a hard time distinguishing any faces, let alone the one he’s looking for. As ridiculous as it sounds, Namjoon felt like he’d be able to find Yoongi. He can’t stop thinking about him, even after such a short interaction. His smile, his pouty pink lips, his eyes. Cute and razor sharp and devastating. Namjoon thought he’d be drawn right to him, some kind of gravitational force or something.
Stupid but… Namjoon isn’t always the most logical when it comes to cute boys. He definitely should have asked for his number when he got Yoongi’s name.
Namjoon looks up at the sound of feedback from the speakers, not having realized the show was starting. Vaguely he can remember the name of the opening band from the flyers: Calico, a local band he’s heard of a few times but never actually seen play.
The guitarist has his lips pressed to the microphone, glittery eyelids closed as he sings. He’s dressed in leather pants that look painted on, with a crop top the same candy pink shade as his guitar and hair. Their bassist is bopping to the music, wearing so many clashing neon colors that it makes Namjoon’s head ache. And the drummer, the drummer is -
Yoongi.
Namjoon feels stunned, rooted to the spot as the crowd dances around him. Yoongi in jeans and a simple black t-shirt, pounding on the drums and bobbing his head. Yoongi is in the opening band, touring with Persona. No wonder he said he’d see Namjoon here.
The music is good. Their first song is upbeat and loud, the singer’s voice bright and melodic. My Chemical Romance somehow mixed with Britney Spears and… it works? Though Namjoon shouldn’t be surprised, they were invited to tour with Persona. Namjoon is a little distracted from the actual music because he can’t tear his eyes away from Yoongi. Yoongi whose tongue peeks out of the corner of his lips and whose arms flex distractingly as he plays. There’s a sheen of sweat on his forehead and Namjoon’s knees feel weak when he shoves his blonde hair out of his eyes.
Namjoon feels like a rock in the middle of the sea, battered by waves as he stays still. The crowd shifts and sways around him and Namjoon stands staring, eyes fixed on the way Yoongi’s arms move as he drums, muscles tensing under pale skin that beads with sweat. Namjoon wants to lick it off.
Fucking weird. Get a hold of yourself, Namjoon, he silently chastises himself, trying to focus on the music. He paid good money for this ticket, he can’t spend the entire concert staring at Yoongi’s pink, pouty lips glistening under the stage lights.
A few songs in, Yoongi wipes his forearm across his forehead and looks out at the crowd. Maybe it’s that gravitational force Namjoon thought of before, because somehow Yoongi finds him. Their eyes lock and Yoongi blinks once, twice, then he smiles. Or smirks, maybe. His lips curl, eyes flash, and he turns away, lips pressed to the microphone to add his deep voice to the chorus.
The entire set feels like an out of body experience. It’s over faster than Namjoon expects, though he knows almost thirty minutes have probably passed. Absently, Namjoon can say that he enjoyed the music, likes their vibe. But he would be fucked if someone asked him to recall a single line from any of the songs. He would, however, probably do well if someone asked him to draw exactly how Yoongi’s fingers looked wrapped around his drumsticks.
“Thank you!” the lead singer shouts, snapping Namjoon back to reality. “We’re Calico!” He finishes with a loud, breathy meow into the microphone, though it sounds more like a moan. Disturbing and, strangely, erotic.
While the stage is cleared and reset, Namjoon pushes his way to the bar. He downs a beer in far too few swallows, throat burning as he chugs it down. Liquid courage maybe, or something just to clear his head.
By the time Persona takes the stage, Namjoon feels a little steadier. While he’s still able to enjoy the show, basking in the glow that comes with seeing his favorite band live, Namjoon is distracted. As Persona’s lead singer practically wails into the microphone, Namjoon is thinking about Yoongi’s hands. He can’t get into it as much, can’t let himself meld with the crowd to feel the fanatic rush of euphoria he’s used to in settings like this.
It’s impossible to stop thinking about Yoongi. He almost expects Yoongi to appear beside him, to materialize out of the crowd to find him. Namjoon wants Yoongi to find him. It feels impossible to let himself go, unable to stop glancing around the packed room for a flash of bleached hair or dark, cat-like eyes. He spots Calico’s bassist on the edge of the crowd at one point, nodding along to the music, but no Yoongi. A body suddenly knocking into him pushes him back into the moment. He throws himself into the music, jumping with the crowd, yelling along to the songs and trying to savor the moment.
As the set winds to a close, Persona playing a final encore and blowing kisses to the crowd, Namjoon feels some of the energy seep from his body. The show is ending and Yoongi was right, Namjoon did see him at the show. But it seems like that’s all he’s going to get, one glimpse of the other man and nothing else. He rolls his eyes, stepping back to try to extricate himself from the thinning crowd. Rock stars.
Turning around to head for the door, Namjoon freezes at the feeling of a hand on his arm. He spins, nearly colliding with someone else. “Oh,” he gasps, eyes widening as he takes in the blonde hair and sharp eyes, the knowing smile. Yoongi.
“Hey.”
Namjoon blinks, licks his lips. “Hey,” he echoes.
Yoongi cocks his head to the side, smile widening. “Can I buy you a drink?”
---
“So,” Yoongi begins, propping an elbow on the bar to rest his chin on his palm and stare at Namjoon.
“So,” Namjoon echoes, fiddling with the label on his beer bottle. He’s trying very hard to be calm and cool.
“Like the show?” Yoongi asks, eyes searching Namjoon’s face.
Namjoon nods, taking a sip of his beer. “Yeah, it was good. Persona was awesome.”
“Just Persona?” Yoongi asks, lips pursing into a pout.
“The opening band seemed alright,” Namjoon says with a casual shrug.
Yoongi lets out a surprised laugh, straightening on his bar stool to grin at him. “Funny,” he chuckles. “You’re funny, Namjoon.”
“I’m not the only one,” Namjoon huffs. “Bet you thought you were really funny with your maybe I’ll see you there.”
Another chuckle, Yoongi shaking his head. “What was I supposed to say?” he laughs. “Name drop to try to get in your pants in the middle of the record store?”
“Well, I…” Namjoon trails off, taking a sip of beer to hopefully hide the flush he can feel heating his cheeks. Yoongi wants to get in his pants? Not that Namjoon would be opposed, but…
“You’re thinking very loudly,” Yoongi offers casually.
Namjoon refocuses, swallowing a mouthful of beer. “Sorry, uh, how’d you get tapped to play with the greatest band ever?”
“Our singer is dating one of Persona’s members,” Yoongi offers. “That got our foot in the door, or… dick. You know, metaphorically speaking. But they liked our sound so…” he trails off, shrugging.
“That’s awesome, a dream come true.”
Yoongi smiles and it looks a little shy. “It is. I always dreamed I’d be doing this but… the reality still hasn’t caught up with me.”
“I bet. It must be overwhelming.” Namjoon drains the rest of his beer and Yoongi nods for another round. “You were really good up there, impressive.”
“Yeah?” Yoongi asks, smile turning sly. “You like how I play?”
Namjoon feels like this is a trap. “Um. Yes. You were very… on beat.”
Yoongi laughs and smiles at Namjoon over his beer bottle. “You’re cute, Namjoon.”
“I -” Namjoon cuts off, taking a fortifying gulp of beer for lack of a better response. He chokes slightly and Yoongi laughs again, masterfully steering the conversation in a new direction.
Yoongi is cute and funny, and shockingly easy to talk to. Time passes easily, beer bottles empty, and Namjoon never wants to leave this sticky bar stool. Not with the way Yoongi smiles, how his eyes dance in the dim lights. They talk about music, their favorite bands, song writing, and the instruments they play.
“I play guitar,” Namjoon admits, “badly.”
Yoongi grins at him. “I bet you’re not half bad. I play piano, too.”
“I wouldn’t expect a cool rock drummer to play piano,” Namjoon counters.
“How reductive of you, Namjoon,” Yoongi gasps. “The piano is a fantastic percussion instrument.” He smiles and Namjoon laughs. Yoongi’s smile dips a little before he speaks again. “We’re leaving tonight, you know. For the tour.”
“Yeah.” Namjoon knew that, abstractly. “That’s amazing but, uh… it also kind of sucks?”
Yoongi blinks at him. “Oh?”
He doesn’t know where the courage comes from. “I wish we had more time, I’d really like to buy you dinner.” Namjoon has never been this smooth in his entire life.
Yoongi’s smile is wide and gummy, his hand slides across the bar, fingers brushing Namjoon’s. “How about a shot instead?”
---
In retrospect, Namjoon isn’t entirely sure how they get to the bathroom. One minute they were taking a shot and Yoongi’s fingers were sliding across his hand, and the next Yoongi was dragging him through the crowd. Those strong fingers encircling his wrist, tugging him through the door into the bathroom.
Which brings them to now.
Yoongi has his hands fisted in Namjoon’s t-shirt, shoving him hard against the wall. And they’re kissing. That’s the really important part, and the reason why Namjoon doesn’t mind that they’re in a dirty bar bathroom.
Soft pouty lips against Namjoon’s, kissing him hot and wet and eager, like fire and electricity licking up his spine. Namjoon’s own hands cup Yoongi’s hips, squeezing through the fabric of his t-shirt to pull him closer. They press together from hip to chest, heads tilting as their lips lock together. One of Yoongi’s hands slides up to Namjoon’s neck, cupping his nape to guide him, deepen the kiss.
Yoongi’s tongue darts out, licking over Namjoon’s bottom lip, and Namjoon opens for him. There’s no hesitation, nothing but Yoongi in his mind. Namjoon loses himself in the feeling, the sweet heat of Yoongi’s mouth, the warmth of their bodies pressed together. Everything is amazing, Namjoon is maybe astral projecting, sensation taking over until Namjoon can only feel.
Namjoon has kissed people before, of course he has. This is nothing new but… there’s something different and new about Yoongi. Maybe it’s the venue, the residual adrenaline of scream-singing his favorite lyrics with a crowd of hundreds. Maybe it’s the alcohol in Namjoon’s veins, not enough to get him drunk, but enough for his head to spin. Maybe it’s both of those things mixed together.
Or maybe it’s just Yoongi. Something intoxicating about pretty pouty lips and cat-like eyes, something mesmerizing about his touch. That gravitational pull Namjoon had felt is guiding them together, a black hole drawing him in, and Namjoon would gladly be swallowed whole.
And Namjoon wants him to, would welcome it. He tugs Yoongi closer, slotting a thigh between his legs. His thumbs slip beneath the hem of Yoongi’s t-shirt, pressing into smooth warm skin and Yoongi gasps into his mouth, teeth sinking into Namjoon’s bottom lip. Amazing, perfection and -
The kiss breaks and Namjoon’s eyes fly open. He blinks, looking around in confusion to see Yoongi rocking away from him, one hand still clutching the front of Namjoon’s shirt.
“What the fuck, Jimin?” Yoongi is saying, glaring at someone else.
Namjoon recognizes the lead singer of Calico, candy pink hair now partially hidden beneath a blue beanie. He’s smiling wickedly. “I hate to interrupt this…” he looks between the two of them, smile growing, “show, but we have to leave.”
“Shit,” Yoongi mutters, gently extracting himself from Namjoon.
Hands falling away from Yoongi’s hips, Namjoon misses the warmth of his body immediately. “Do you really have to go?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Yoongi looks apologetic, disappointed. “Give me your phone?”
Namjoon hands it over without question. As Yoongi types, the singer, Jimin, leans forward toward Namjoon. “Like the show?”
“It was good, you were good. Liked the, uh… meows,” Namjoon says awkwardly.
Jimin giggles. “They always do.”
“Here.” Namjoon refocuses as Yoongi hands his phone back. “See you around.”
Namjoon nods dumbly, he wants to kiss Yoongi again but isn’t sure he’s allowed. Yoongi seems to notice, smiling and leaning up on his toes to press a quick kiss to Namjoon’s lips. Then Yoongi is pulling back, much too quickly, and he and Jimin are slipping out the door. With a parting meow from Jimin, they disappear and Namjoon is left alone. He glances down at his phone, seeing it open to a text conversation with a new contact. Yoongi.
---
Namjoon wakes to a dull throbbing in his head, mouth dry and tasting like acid. He groans, rolling onto his back to blink blearily at the ceiling. Even with the hangover rolling through him, Namjoon’s thoughts snap to the night before. Yoongi on stage, Yoongi at the bar, Yoongi kissing him silly in the bathroom.
“Fuck,” Namjoon rasps, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands.
And now he’s gone.
Reaching for his phone, Namjoon unlocks the screen and holds it over his face. He’s surprised to see a few new texts. An image is the first thing that loads and Namjoon shoots straight up in bed, eyes scanning the screen.
The Persona album from the record store, Wings, out of the plastic and now signed by the members of Persona. And three messages from a new contact.
[Yoongi]
I decided you can have it
But you have to come get it from my bedroom
I’m back in a month <3
---
Namjoon’s phone buzzes on the coffee table and he doesn’t lunge for it. Not really, not at all. Just, like, a swift grab. One that almost sends the bottle of beer next to his phone spinning across the room. But Namjoon steadies it, as he grabs his phone in an extremely normal manner.
Rolling his eyes at himself, Namjoon leans back on his couch, glancing at the screen. A new notification is displayed on his phone, a text. From Yoongi.
Clicking into his text app, Namjoon’s breath catches as a picture loads on the screen. Yoongi in the back of a van, head tilted to the side, eyes half lidded, smiling slightly at the camera. His collarbones are visible through the ripped neck of his shirt, pale skin against deep black. Namjoon is very happy his beer didn’t spill, he absolutely needs it now.
[Yoongi]
I’m so sick of being stuck in this van
They won’t let me have the aux cord
The message comes through a moment later and Namjoon licks his lips, wondering how exactly he got here. Here, as in, on his couch with Yoongi texting him.
[Namjoon]
What are they forcing you to listen to?
Another picture comes through, this time Yoongi is rolling his eyes, mouth twisted in annoyance. Namjoon remembers how that mouth felt, how Yoongi’s lips tasted.
[Yoongi]
Jimin has been playing glam rock nonstop
I’ve listened to so much T-Rex
Namjoonie I need you to save me
There’s a swooping sensation in Namjoon’s stomach, butterflies fluttering against his ribcage. Namjoonie. If Namjoon could, he’d teleport himself to exactly where Yoongi is.
[Namjoon]
Do you have headphones?
I could send a playlist
[Yoongi]
My hero
Then a moment later.
[Yoongi]
If there’s any Bowie or Eno on it, I’ll cry
Smiling to himself, Namjoon opens Spotify and scrolls, looking through his playlists. He selects a pop punk one he made a few weeks ago. It’s fun and has a good mix of artists, none of which are glam rock. He copies the link and sends it.
[Namjoon]
Try this
No glam in sight
[Yoongi]
You have my gratitude
I’ll report back with a review
Namjoon collapses back against his couch cushions, smiling like an idiot. It’s been a couple weeks since the Persona show, and he and Yoongi have been talking almost every day. Yoongi is funny and smart and sassy, sarcastic and charming in the best ways. He sends Namjoon the cutest selfies. And sometimes… selfies that seem a little more suggestive.
They haven’t done more than text, haven’t talked on the phone or done anything intimate, but conversation has veered into nearly dangerous territory before. Flirty messages and selfies, ones that leave Namjoon groaning as he fucks his fist in the shower. There’s no discussion about what they are, or what they’re doing. And, well, Namjoon knows that, and doesn’t really care.
It’s not like he could do anything about this anyway, about the feelings bubbling in his chest for Yoongi. Not while Yoongi is on tour and Namjoon is stuck here in his apartment. But he contents himself with the memory of the kiss, the knowledge that Yoongi wants to see him again, the fact that they’re texting a lot. And, the fact that they already have a date set to meet up.
A date. Or, well, that’s what Namjoon wants it to be. But he’s trying very hard not to get ahead of himself. Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Namjoon shoves himself off the couch, determined to actually get a few things done this evening. He can’t spend all his time thinking about Yoongi.
---
The next time Namjoon’s phone vibrates, he’s lying in bed reading. It’s late and as Namjoon picks up his phone, he assumes that Yoongi’s probably just gotten off stage for the night. This thought is confirmed by Yoongi’s text messages saying the show just ended and he’s back at his hotel.
[Yoongi]
Everyone went out for drinks
[Namjoon]
Not you?
[Yoongi]
Mm not tonight
Didn’t feel like it
Namjoon frowns at his phone. That’s not like Yoongi, usually he’s sending Namjoon selfies from bars after the show, flirty messages laced with typos after a few drinks.
[Namjoon]
Is everything okay?
[Yoongi]
Yeah, I’m good just…
Too keyed up, need to let off some stuff
Namjoon blinks, still frowning at the screen.
[Namjoon]
But not with drinks?
[Yoongi]
Not with drinks
More like…
What we did that night after the show?
[Namjoon]
Oh
After the show, when Yoongi kissed him. When Yoongi dragged him into the bathroom and pressed Namjoon against the wall, shoving his tongue into Namjoon’s mouth. When Yoongi’s fingers were slipping beneath Namjoon’s t-shirt and Namjoon was on fire.
[Namjoon]
So you’re going out then?
He feels stupid to be a little jealous. He and Yoongi aren’t dating, aren't anything. Sure they talk constantly over text and they kissed, and they sort of have a standing date for when Yoongi gets back… but there’s nothing concrete or official there.
[Yoongi]
I just told you I didn’t go for drinks
[Namjoon]
Yeah, but like…
But like what? Namjoon bites the inside of his cheek, unsure where to go from here. He doesn’t want to sound jealous or desperate, but he really doesn’t want to think about Yoongi going out and meeting someone else. Someone who is not Namjoon.
[Namjoon]
I thought you meant go pick someone up?
It doesn’t feel good to type those words.
There’s a pause, the typing bubbles appearing and disappearing, before a message finally comes through. A frowning face emoji. And then -
[Yoongi]
I don’t fuck groupies, Namjoon
Besides
I was thinking about someone else
Namjoon stares at his phone, brain whirring.
[Namjoon]
Like… Jimin??
[Yoongi]
Fuck you
Idiot
Namjoon still stares at his phone screen, uncomprehending. Why is Yoongi calling him an idiot, is he mad?
[Yoongi]
I was thinking about you
[Namjoon]
Oh. Like…
[Yoongi]
Have you ever sexted someone before, Namjoon?
And that is, that is not what Namjoon expected. Not where he thought this would go. But Yoongi wants to blow off steam, and he wants to do it with Namjoon.
But Namjoon has never done this before.
[Namjoon]
Um.
Not really?
Not really at all.
[Yoongi]
Do you want to?
Yes. Fuck yes, Namjoon wants to. But he needs to be cool about this. Calm and chill and not over eager.
[Namjoon]
Yeah I
Yeah
Yes
And that was not chill at all.
[Yoongi]
Cute.
What are you wearing right now?
Namjoon glances down at himself, at his old band shirt and ratty sweatpants, the book resting on his chest. Should he lie?
[Namjoon]
Just pajamas
[Yoongi]
Do you want to know what I’m wearing?
So badly.
[Namjoon]
Yeah, tell me
[Yoongi]
A shirt and briefs
I took my jeans off before
I’m still sweaty from the show, so hot
He is hot, so fucking hot. Namjoon remembers how his skin glistened beneath the lights, how Yoongi looked so pretty and perfect. Remembers how he wanted to lick the salt from Yoongi’s skin, taste him.
Namjoon feels like all the blood in his body rushes straight to his dick. The mental image is enough, the thought of Yoongi sweaty and flushed on a hotel bed. Maybe he’s wearing that shirt that shows his collar bones, or one that’s loose and baggy. One Namjoon could get his hands underneath, feel all that warm skin.
[Namjoon]
You’re so hot
[Yoongi]
You can’t even see me
[Namjoon]
Don’t need to
You’re gorgeous
Though, if he’s being honest, he would like to see Yoongi like this.
[Yoongi]
Flattery will get you everywhere, Joonie
[Namjoon]
I wish I was there, wish I could touch you
[Yoongi]
You sure you’ve never done this before?
Namjoon smiles slightly, shifting on the bed to make himself more comfortable. He’s already half hard, just from the picture of Yoongi his mind conjured up.
[Namjoon]
Just really into you
[Yoongi]
Mm, I’d let you in me
“Fuck,” Namjoon says out loud, entire body clenching. Yoongi is a demon.
[Namjoon]
Fuck
[Yoongi]
Lol
But for now… why don’t you touch yourself?
Namjoon can do that, he’d love to do that. Shifting his phone to one hand, Namjoon ghosts his other hand down his body. He trails his fingers down his chest through his shirt, trying to imagine it’s Yoongi’s big hands on him instead. Namjoon’s stomach muscles jump as he trails his hand lower, ghosting over his belly and to the waistband of his sweats.
A groan spills past Namjoon’s lips as he palms himself through his pants. He’s so hard already, and the little bit of friction, the squeeze of his fingers around his clothed cock has him the rest of the way there in seconds. Remembering himself, Namjoon glances at his phone.
[Namjoon]
Feels good
Wish it was you
[Yoongi]
I do too
I’m so hard for you, so wet
Namjoon chokes on his spit, cock throbbing in his pants. He squeezes again, clutching himself through his clothes. If only Namjoon could see him, touch him, taste him.
[Yoongi]
Would love to get my hands on you
My mouth
Would you like that, Namjoonie?
Namjoon nods, even though he knows Yoongi can’t see him.
[Namjoon]
Yeah
[Yoongi]
Tell me what you’re doing
[Namjoon]
Uh
Touching myself um
Through my clothes
[Yoongi]
But I’ve already taken off my briefs
Don’t you want to take your pants off too?
Yes Namjoon does. He scrambles to obey, nearly dropping his phone in the process. It’s a little clumsy, shoving his sweats and boxers down in one go. He lifts his hips and tugs at his pants, getting them down to mid-thigh before flopping onto the bed again.
Namjoon hisses as his cock bobs free, slapping against his belly, the tip already flushed a deep red. Precum leaks from the head of his cock, sticky wet just from his imagination and a few fumbling touches over his clothes.
God, he’s such a goner already.
[Namjoon]
Okay I
Yeah I took my pants off
[Yoongi]
Good
I’m touching myself
Pretending it’s your hand on me
You feel so good
[Namjoon]
Fuck
Wish I could touch you right now
Make you feel so good
Wish you could touch me
Heat rushes through Namjoon’s body, spreading beneath his skin. He feels a little like he might explode.
[Yoongi]
Me too
Why don’t you pretend it’s me touching you, yeah?
It’s not hard to imagine, Namjoon’s mind easily conjuring up another image of Yoongi. This time he’s naked from the waist down, cock just barely hidden beneath the hem of an oversized shirt. Namjoon’s oversized shirt. And he’s leaning in, all hooded eyes and pouty, slick lips, his hands sliding up Namjoon’s thighs.
When Namjoon closes his hand around himself, he can’t help but groan again. His body tenses, cock twitching in his fist as his hips buck a little on the bed. God, he’s so fucking hard, so turned on, and he’s barely touched himself. They’ve barely done anything. Namjoon thanks himself for his extremely vivid imagination.
[Yoongi]
I’d make you feel so good if I was there
Touch you just right
You want my mouth on you?
“God, yes,” Namjoon mumbles, words spilling past his slack lips as he strokes himself, fist tightening at the head, squeezing until he gasps.
[Namjoon]
Yeah
Want your mouth on me
Kissing Yoongi was amazing, their mouths fitting so perfectly together. Yoongi’s soft lips, warm tongue teasing at the seam of Namjoon’s mouth. He can imagine how great Yoongi’s mouth would feel on other parts of his body, how he’d use his tongue elsewhere.
And Namjoon can imagine how it would feel to use his mouth on Yoongi. To nip and kiss and lick along his skin until he was flushed and panting. To take Yoongi into his mouth or flip him over and work his tongue into him. Make Yoongi fall apart, hear him moan.
[Yoongi]
Anything you want, Namjoonie
What would you do to me?
[Namjoon]
Wanna get my mouth on you, lick you open and fuck you with my tongue
Bet you’d sound so pretty
[Yoongi]
Fuck, Namjoon
I’m so fucking hard
Namjoon is too, practically fucking his fist now, huffs of breath forced past his now gritted teeth. Pleasure rolls through him, hot and pulsing. It’s been a while since he’s been with anyone, and he’s replayed the kiss with Yoongi a million times. The fact that Yoongi seems to have thought of it too, wants to do more.
Well, Namjoon finds himself teetering close to the edge embarrassingly fast. But he can’t stop, can’t be embarrassed about it. His fingers are sticky with precum and his cock pulses in his hand. He can feel heat pooling in his belly, his orgasm rushing toward him.
[Namjoon]
Me too
I wish I could hear you right now
What would Yoongi sound like? Low, deep moans like his voice? High mewls and whines? Soft and breathy gasps? God, Namjoon wishes he knew, wishes he could know.
Namjoon curses when his phone vibrates in his hand, a longer vibration this time, not a text. He blinks at the screen, his eyes hazy with lust.
Incoming Call - Yoongi
“Oh fuck,” Namjoon breathes. He hesitates for a beat, then clumsily swipes to accept the call, putting it on speaker phone.
As soon as the line connects, a moan comes through the speaker. Yoongi’s moan, low and deep, but still breathy. Sounding desperate, so fucked out.
Namjoon’s breath hitches and he has to squeeze the base of his cock to keep himself from coming right then and there.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi rasps, and he sounds so fucking affected. His voice is hoarse, hitching at the end. Namjoon’s head spins, sweat beading along his brow as he imagines Yoongi splayed on a bed, whining for him.
“Yoongi,” Namjoon breathes. “Fuck.”
“Feels good,” Yoongi murmurs. His voice is so low, making Namjoon shiver. “Wanted to hear you, wanted your voice.”
Namjoon’s stomach flips, his body clenches. Precum dribbles from the tip of his cock and Namjoon feels like he’s going half mad. “You sound so sexy. Wish I was the one making you sound like that.”
“You are,” Yoongi insists. “I’m thinking about you.”
And, objectively, Namjoon knew that was true, figured that was obvious. Namjoon is thinking about Yoongi, Yoongi is thinking about him. They are sexting each other. And yet - hearing it out loud. Fuck.
A spike of arousal shouts through him and Namjoon groans this time, hand moving along his cock again.
“Yeah,” Yoongi breathes. “Just like that. Am I making you feel good?”
The slick sound of Namjoon’s fist on his cock is accompanied by Yoongi’s voice, and the sound of skin on skin. Yoongi stroking himself, hot and wet, the sound evident even through the phone. Namjoon’s vision blurs.
“So good,” Namjoon replies, voice hitching and breath catching in his throat. “I’m gonna - I can’t -”
“It’s okay,” Yoongi purrs. “Me too, Joonie. Come for me?”
And that’s all it takes, Yoongi’s subtle encouragement, a soft demand, and Namjoon’s orgasm slams into him. A freight train hitting him head on, fireworks and flashbulbs behind Namjoon’s eyes as he squeezes them closed. A roaring in his ears only dulled by the sound of Yoongi’s moans over the speaker as Namjoon comes all over his hand and shirt.
“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes, when he can breathe and make words again.
Yoongi chuckles softly. “Agreed,” he rasps. “You good?”
“Great,” Namjoon croaks.
Another soft laugh, then the sound of a mattress shifting, Yoongi huffing before he speaks again. “I’ve gotta hang up,” he says.
Namjoon’s heart drops, post-orgasm glow dimming at the thought of Yoongi hanging up already, so suddenly. “Oh,” Namjoon mumbles. “Well, um. Good night -”
“No, no,” Yoongi says quickly. “I just need to clean up before anyone gets back. I’ll call you in five?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees immediately.
The call ends without anything else and Namjoon blinks, staring at his phone screen until it goes black. Then, suddenly becoming aware of the cum drying on his hand and shirt, Namjoon springs into action.
Namjoon pushes himself off his bed and waddles, pants still around his thighs, to the bathroom to clean up. He washes up in the sink and strips off his shirt, tossing it in his laundry basket. When he’s much less sticky, Namjoon heads back to his bedroom and pulls on a fresh shirt before climbing back onto his bed.
He fidgets, straightening his blankets and slipping under the sheets. Fluffing his pillow a few times before lying down and clicking off the light. He stares at the ceiling in the dimness of his room, phone clutched in his hand. Maybe Yoongi won’t call back, maybe this was a mistake and Yoongi doesn’t want to -
The phone rings. It’s Yoongi.
Something warm settles in Namjoon’s chest and he smiles to himself, rolling onto his side as he accepts the call and puts the phone up to his ear. “Hey.”
“Hey yourself,” Yoongi responds. “Sorry about that, I just needed to clean things up before Hobi or Jimin got back.”
“Don’t want them to find you in a precarious position?”
Yoongi snorts and Namjoon hears the sound of shifting blankets. “God no, I’d never hear the end of it. And Jimin loves parading around naked, I don’t need him to find an excuse to do it even more.”
"Interesting.”
Another snort. “That’s one word for it. Anyway - you sure you’re good?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees. “Real good. You?”
“I’m good,” Yoongi affirms. “Just fucking tired, adrenaline from the show and all that wearing off.”
“We can hang up.”
“Nah,” Yoongi says softly. “Would rather talk to you”
The warmth in Namjoon’s chest expands like wings. “Okay, wanna tell me about where you’re heading tomorrow? What’s the next stop on the tour?”
“That I can do,” Yoongi says, and launches into a story of their travels.
He sounds soft and sleepy, his voice practically like a purr. It’s so soothing and warm, and Namjoon finds his lids growing heavy, his responses becoming more hums and grunts than words. Yoongi’s voice slurs slightly with sleep and Namjoon finds himself drifting off, ears full of Yoongi’s voice, body warm and sated.
---
The sun seems a little brighter when Namjoon wakes in the morning, the sheets a little softer. He hums to himself, stretching beneath the blankets and wiggling his toes. Somehow, the morning feels fresh and new and Namjoon feels good.
It comes back to him, quite suddenly, why he feels so good.
Yoongi.
Yoongi texting him the night before, sexting him. Yoongi calling him, the sound of his moans and heavy breathing. And then after, the softness of his voice as Namjoon nestled beneath his blankets, smiling to himself as Yoongi’s words turned a little slurred and Namjoon drifted off.
All of it good. He just hopes Yoongi thinks so too.
Namjoon locates his phone beneath his pillow, it must have slipped from his hand and wound up there. He flips onto his back, holding his phone against his chest as he tries to think of what to do. Text Yoongi, definitely. He definitely needs to do that. But what does he say? Just good morning or maybe hope you had fun last night… is that greasy? It feels greasy.
But Namjoon doesn’t have to worry long, not when he unlocks his phone and holds it over his face. His notification bar is lit up and there are messages there, multiple messages, from Yoongi.
[Yoongi]
Ah you fell asleep
I hope this was okay, I had fun. Hope you did too
I uh
I like you, you know?
Talking to you and
Yeah
Is this weird? Fuck. It’s probably weird. I’m going to
Going to shut up now. Good night
Namjoon can’t help but smile at his phone, wiggling beneath the blankets again. Warmth spreads to the tips of his toes and Namjoon wants to kick his feet, squeal into his pillow. Yoongi likes him. And he seems so flustered about it. This isn’t the confident Yoongi from the bar or the record store, or even from their texts and call last night. A different side of him, something softer and sweeter and…
God, Namjoon feels like he’s back in middle school again.
[Namjoon]
I had fun too
I really like you
Namjoon is surprised when the typing bubble appears immediately.
[Yoongi]
Good :]
[Namjoon]
Good
There’s a pause then, and Namjoon wonders if he should say more. But then another message comes through.
[Yoongi]
You know… I’m back in ten days
I want to see you again
Namjoon grins at his phone.
[Namjoon]
I want to see you too
Unable to quell his smile, Namjoon rolls over, burying his face in his pillow to muffle a soft scream.
-
Ten days feels like an eternity. Namjoon has already made it through twenty or so days with Yoongi gone, but the last ten feel endless. Like he’s counting the minutes, constantly checking the calendar. Nine days, eight, a week. Slowly getting closer to the date.
Namjoon isn’t sure if it helps or makes it even harder that he and Yoongi keep talking. They text constantly still, talking about their lives, their jobs and hobbies, and Yoongi’s time on the road. But it’s not just texting now. Yoongi calls him when he has time, on breaks or at rest stops, before and after shows.
There’s something about it that feels almost domestic, Yoongi calling him when he has a spare minute in his busy schedule. Something about it that feels boyfriendy. But they haven’t talked about that, about what they are. This could be… this could just be something convenient for Yoongi while on the road.
But it doesn’t feel like that, not with how much they talk. And how Yoongi’s friends tease.
“Is that Namjoon?”
Jimin’s voice, in the background of the telephone call. Yoongi makes a disgruntled sound as Jimin laughs and Namjoon can’t help but smile.
“Tell him I say hi,” Namjoon says.
“I most certainly will not,” Yoongi huffs. “Get out of here,” Yoongi snaps, voice slightly muffled now, clearly directed at Jimin. “I’m busy.”
“Ooh, busy.” Hoseok now, cackling gleefully in the background. “Yoongi is too busy talking to Namjoonie to talk to us!”
“Oh my god,” Yoongi breathes, sounding mortified.
Namjoon feels like he could walk on water. He can’t hold in his own laughter, grinning against the phone as he props it between his neck and shoulder. He’s been trying to make dinner, chatting with Yoongi as he cooks. But now he just leans against the counter, smiling dopily into the distance.
“You think this is funny?” Yoongi grumbles.
“You’re cute,” Namjoon insists.
There’s a pause, before Jimin squeals. “Oh, why are you blushing, Yoongi? Yoongi, why are you so red!”
“I’m going to smother him with his pillow tonight,” Yoongi promises, and Namjoon feels terribly fond.
So with all of that, with how much they talk, with how much Yoongi seeks out his company, even through the phone, Namjoon can’t help but feel like this is more.
Namjoon likes Yoongi’s voice through the phone, his stories about the shows and the tour itself. Shenanigans and funny anecdotes and, late one night when Yoongi was in the bathroom at his hotel, whispering to Namjoon as his band mates slept in the other room, a softly murmured wish you were here.
So ten days drags, in fits and starts and endless minutes. But somehow, at the same time, almost before Namjoon knows it, ten days pass and Yoongi is coming home.
---
It feels like deja vu, like stepping back a month ago to that night they met. Namjoon is standing in the crowd, staring up at the stage where Yoongi is pounding on the drums, skin shiny with sweat. A bandanna holds his bleached hair off his forehead and the sleeves of his t-shirt are rolled up nearly to his shoulders. He looks gorgeous, like a god beneath the stage lights.
This time, at that same venue as before, Calico is the headlining band. Like a triumphant return of a glorious hero, the crowd poured in for their homecoming. Namjoon got there early, nursing a beer as he watched the first two bands, filled with nerves and excitement. Then Calico came on stage and Namjoon was cheering along with everyone else, nervousness slipping away as the music started.
They texted a little before the show, Namjoon wishing him luck, and Yoongi confirming he was coming. Namjoon wouldn’t have missed this show for anything, not with Yoongi here. Not when the month is finally over and Namjoon can finally see him.
And when Yoongi turns his head, pressing his lips to his microphone to add his voice to the song, Namjoon’s legs nearly turn to jelly. Yoongi’s voice is a low growl, a deep purr, and Namjoon can’t help but remember what Yoongi sounded like when he came.
---
It’s barely five minutes after the band leaves the stage and the lights brighten that Yoongi finds him in the crowd. The flutter of nerves return as Namjoon turns, feeling eyes on him, and finds Yoongi approaching. He looks beautiful, flushed and still a little sweaty, lips curved in a pleased smile.
But Yoongi doesn’t seem to be nervous, not like Namjoon is. He doesn’t hesitate at all, stepping right up to Namjoon and lifting on his toes to plant a kiss on Namjoon’s lips.
There’s a beat, two, where Namjoon is frozen, his brain rebooting as warm lips press against his own. But then he’s kissing Yoongi’s back, his hand moving to Yoongi’s hip, pulling him closer, as his clumsy lips remember how to move.
Yoongi is soft and warm, his mouth sweet like cherry syrup, as he kisses Namjoon so sweetly, as if he’s been waiting all this month to do just this. And maybe Yoongi has, Namjoon knows it’s what he’s been waiting for all this time.
When Yoongi finally pulls back with a final peck, Namjoon’s eyes flutter open. Yoongi is smiling at him, sweet and fond and so pleased, his eyes dancing. His palm presses to Namjoon’s chest, firm and grounding. “Hey.”
“Hey,” Namjoon echoes, head still a little fuzzy from their kiss. He licks his lips, tasting the lingering sweetness of Yoongi’s mouth. “You were great up there.”
Yoongi opens his mouth to respond, but before he can, Jimin suddenly appears at his side, knocking into Yoongi and nearly bowling him over. “Namjoon!” Jimin says loudly, beaming at him.
“Hey Jimin,” Namjoon greets.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” Jimin continues. “Yoongi has absolutely not shut up about you for an entire month! It was all Namjoon this and Namjoon that and -”
“That’s enough,” Yoongi huffs, shoving Jimin in the shoulder.
Jimin only giggles, falling to the side against the chest of the man behind him. A man that looks very familiar.
“Holy shit,” Namjoon blurts. “You’re the guitarist from Persona.”
Yoongi sighs loudly but Jimin is grinning again. “Oh, Namjoon, meet my boyfriend Taehyung.” He gestures to the guitarist of Namjoon’s absolute favorite band. “Tae, this is Namjoon.”
“So you’re the Namjoon I’ve heard so much about,” Taehyung says with a smile, offering his hand for Namjoon to shake.
Namjoon feels a little like he’s having an out of body experience. One of his favorite musicians has heard of him, knows his name, and Namjoon is meeting him right now. He clumsily shakes Taehyung’s hand, trying his best to be normal.
“I’m a huge fan,” Namjoon gushes. “Your guitar solo in Singularity is unbelievable.”
Taehyung’s smile grows and he nods in thanks. “That’s really nice of you to say, we work hard and want to make music people will enjoy.”
“I definitely enjoy it.”
Yoongi makes a soft, annoyed sound. “You didn’t fanboy like this over me.”
And when Namjoon returns his attention to Yoongi, he finds that Yoongi is pouting. Lips puffed out and eyes wide and oh fuck, it is devastating.
Namjoon smiles, stepping closer to Yoongi and wrapping an arm around his waist. “You’re my favorite.”
“I better be,” Yoongi grumbles as Jimin giggles beside them.
“You two are so cute,” Jimin coos.
Yoongi rolls his eyes, firmly turning his back on Jimin and blinking up at Namjoon. “Do you want to stay for drinks?”
Part of Namjoon does, to drink and hang out, maybe get to talk more to Taehyung. And yet… there’s really only one thing he wants right now. And that’s to be alone with Yoongi. To kiss him silly, hear those pretty sounds he made. This time not through a phone.
“I thought you said you had something for me at your apartment?”
Yoongi smiles, a glimpse of teeth and gums as he nods. “I definitely do.” He offers his hand and Namjoon takes it, the two of them calling quick goodbyes before Yoongi is dragging him away to the door of the venue and out onto the street.
They step out into the night and Yoongi nods down the sidewalk, the two of them falling into step together. “I don’t live far,” he says, and slips his hand back into Namjoon’s.
And Namjoon likes this, thinks it overshadows everything else. The concert, meeting Taehyung, anything. Because Yoongi is beside him, walking so close, their fingers clasped together, and Namjoon feels that gravitational pull again when Yoongi glances up, flashing him another bright smile.
---
“Sorry, it’s probably a bit messy,” Yoongi says as he holds the door for Namjoon to step into the apartment. “Just got back, you know.”
“No worries,” Namjoon replies, slipping off his sneakers as Yoongi kicks off his boots.
“This way,” Yoongi beckons, inclining his head down the short hallway and into the apartment.
Namjoon follows as he leads the way into the small living room. And it’s a little messy, Yoongi wasn’t lying, an open duffle bag on the couch, clothes scattered around it. There’s a leather jacket and a couple of hoodies tossed over the back of the couch, a pile of drumsticks and guitar picks scattered on the coffee table and floor.
“You want anything to drink?” Yoongi asks, moving toward the small kitchen behind a half wall. “I’ve got water and… uh, some beer that’s been in here for over a month.”
“Water’s fine,” Namjoon snorts, looking around the room again. Despite the mess on it, the couch is large and comfy looking. There’s a television across from it, game console and a bunch of DVDs on the shelves below.
But what captures Namjoon’s attention is on the wall across from him. An intricate hi-fi system on a large open cabinet. Big speakers and an expensive looking record player set above a shelf full of vinyl. Namjoon drifts toward it, bypassing the pass around the couch and coffee table to crouch in front of the shelves.
“See anything you like?”
Namjoon startles at the sound of Yoongi’s voice, louder and closer than he expected. Turning his head, Namjoon finds Yoongi hovering over his shoulder, two bottles of water in hand.
“Yeah,” Namjoon agrees, though he doesn’t think he’s really talking about the records. Because Yoongi is standing right here, tousled blonde hair and tight black t-shirt, smiling openly at him and… yeah. Namjoon likes that.
“I’ve been collecting them for years,” Yoongi explains, crouching beside Namjoon and handing him one of the bottles of water. “A lot are from overseas so they were a bitch to get, but I get lucky sometimes.”
Namjoon feels like he’s gotten lucky, as he stares at the side of Yoongi’s face, the slope of his nose and flutter of his long eyelashes. “What’s your favorite?”
Yoongi hums thoughtfully, head tilting to the side as his eyes drift along the collection. “That’s a hard question. Honestly, I think it depends on the day.” He reaches out and Namjoon watches his fingers skim across the cardboard sleeves, pausing on one. “I have this first pressing of Persona’s debut album.” He pulls the record out, handing it to Namjoon. “That’s definitely a favorite.”
“Oh wow,” Namjoon breathes, staring down at the black and gold cover. “I’ve never even seen this.”
“I managed to find it at a flea market, if you can believe it,” Yoongi laughs, taking the vinyl back and sliding it into place on the shelf. “Sometimes you never know what you’ll find when you’re just browsing around.”
Namjoon couldn’t agree more. “You never know what you’ll find when you least expect it.” A Persona album, or a pretty drummer who sounds like heaven when he moans.
Quiet falls between them, the two of them staring at each other across the close distance. From this close, Namjoon can see the freckles on the bridge of Yoongi’s nose, the moles decorating his skin, pink and pretty and smiling softly, just for Namjoon.
Namjoon really wants to kiss him.
“Did you bring me here just to brag about your record collection?” Namjoon asks, voice breathier than he intended.
Yoongi’s smile widens, his cheeks dusting a light pink. “No, I didn’t.” He shifts a little closer, eyes darting to Namjoon’s lips before he meets his gaze again. “I brought you here so I could kiss you.”
Ah, maybe Namjoon isn’t so alone in his thoughts. His own smile grows and he can feel himself blushing, but he doesn’t care, not when Yoongi’s eyes sparkle as he tilts his head just so. “I like the sound of that.”
They come together in a kiss that is soft, a little tentative. More unsure and tender than the kiss they shared back in the venue, gentler than the kiss they shared in the bathroom a month ago. Yoongi’s mouth presses against Namjoon’s and it is warm and sweet, the two of them leaning close, heads tilting to find the perfect angle.
And there’s something about it that feels so good. Not just kissing Yoongi, but kissing him here. In Yoongi’s apartment, just the two of them alone. This isn’t a dirty bar bathroom or the middle of a crowd at the venue. This is intimate, this is so much more.
The kiss slowly grows in intensity, heat building between them as their mouths move together. It doesn’t take much for their mouths to part, tongues to swipe tentatively together. Yoongi tastes like the smoky bite of whiskey and an underlying sweetness. Like candied fruit or syrupy cherries, something addicting that makes Namjoon lean in closer, bringing a hand to Yoongi’s waist, fingers curling around his hip.
At Namjoon’s touch, Yoongi pulls back from the kiss. Another peck, a nudge of his nose against Namjoon’s, and he leans away enough for them to make eye contact. Namjoon blinks at Yoongi, taking in the softness of his smile, the slick pink of his lips. “You know,” Yoongi murmurs, his voice low, “I actually have your vinyl in my bedroom.”
“Oh.” Namjoon licks his lips and tastes Yoongi on his tongue. “We should probably go there then, so I can see it.”
“Yes,” Yoongi agrees, nodding along with Namjoon’s words. “For the vinyl.” And then he giggles, and Namjoon’s legs nearly turn to jelly.
But Yoongi pushes to his feet, giving a soft groan as he straightens up, and offers Namjoon a hand. Fitting his own palm into Yoongi’s, Namjoon lets Yoongi help him to his feet, their fingers curling together as Yoongi tugs lightly, leading him down the hall to his bedroom.
The room is dim, the only light filtering in through gray curtains. But Namjoon can make out a bed against the wall, a desk and dresser across from it. There’s an acoustic guitar in the corner and a few articles of clothing strewn about the floor, but it’s neater than the living room.
Dropping Namjoon’s hand, Yoongi moves across the room and flicks on his bedside lamp, bathing the room in a light amber glow. With the light, Namjoon can see that the sheets on Yoongi’s bed are blue, his comforter a soft gray. Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed and beckons Namjoon closer.
“Is the vinyl over there?” Namjoon asks, and immediately wants to kick himself.
Yoongi laughs, a bright sound as he leans back on his elbows, shaking his head at Namjoon. “Maybe, why don’t you come see and find out.”
And the sight of Yoongi there, glowing in the soft light of the lamp, reclined back on his bed, has Namjoon moving before he even realizes it. He crosses the room in a few strides, getting one knee onto the bed and climbing onto the mattress. Yoongi reaches for him, warm palms sliding along Namjoon’s arms and pulling him close, and Namjoon lets Yoongi pull him in.
Their lips meet in another kiss, this one more urgent and heated than the last. Yoongi’s mouth is wet and warm, so sweet as Namjoon licks into it, tongue tangling with Yoongi’s. They move together on the bed, Yoongi pushing himself fully onto the mattress and Namjoon following him, climbing over him to nearly blanket Yoongi with his body.
Everything feels hot and electric, Yoongi’s hands slide along his shoulders and up, fingertips brushing Namjoon’s skin. Fingers cards through the hair at the nape of Namjoon’s neck, sending a ticklish rush of heat down his spine. Yoongi is pliant beneath him, bending his knees to bracket Namjoon’s hips, drawing him closer as his arms wind around Namjoon’s neck.
Namjoon braces one forearm on the bed to keep from crushing Yoongi, but otherwise lets himself melt into the kiss. No thoughts, just the feeling of Yoongi’s lips and tongue, the heat of his skin as Namjoon’s other hand roams, fingers slipping beneath the hem of Yoongi’s skin. And he’s so soft, goosebumps pebbling where Namjoon’s fingers trail up his ribs.
Yoongi shivers, a soft moan spilling from his lips into Namjoon’s mouth and Namjoon’s head spins. He’s already half hard and getting harder, cock beginning to press uncomfortably against the zipper of his jeans. Impossible not to move and press a little closer, hips jerking to press their bodies even closer together.
A gasp this time, though Namjoon isn’t sure which one of them does it. He’s too distracted by the feeling of their groins meeting, the press of their clothed erections grinding together. Sparks dance behind his eyes at the little bit of friction, arousal surging through him as he feels that Yoongi is hard too, hard for him, because of him.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi breathes, lips dragging against Namjoon’s as he speaks. Namjoon hums in acknowledgement, or maybe grunts, trying to hold himself back from rutting against Yoongi like an animal. “Joonie,” Yoongi murmurs, fingers carding through Namjoon’s hair, “wanna suck you off. Can I?”
Namjoon’s brain buzzes with static and his entire body fills with heat at Yoongi’s words. His cock twitches in his pants, almost painfully hard now at the thought of Yoongi touching him, of his pretty mouth on Namjoon’s cock. Swollen pink lips and wet tongue, and - fuck.
“Yeah,” Namjoon croaks, sounding far more fucked out than he should at this point. But he can’t help it, not when he pulls back and sees Yoongi staring up at him with dark eyes, lips slightly parted. “Yeah, I - I want that.”
There is a chance that if Yoongi does not put his mouth on Namjoon’s dick right now, Namjoon might just explode.
“Okay,” Yoongi laughs, leaning up to kiss him again. “You’re just wearing an awful lot of clothes.”
Namjoon doesn’t think he’s ever moved faster. He pushes off Yoongi and sits up on the edge of the bed, tugging his shirt over his head and kicking off his pants. Maybe he should be embarrassed at his eagerness, or a little self-conscious when Yoongi has never even seen him shirtless before but - but, when Namjoon turns back, Yoongi’s shirt is tossed away and he’s shimmying out of his jeans and briefs, leaving him bare.
Pink.
“You’re gorgeous,” Namjoon blurts, eyes roaming over Yoongi’s body. Pale skin flushed from arousal, chest and cheeks, the slope of his neck. And lower, to where Yoongi’s cock rests on his belly, hard and shiny at the tip, the head a ruddy pink.
Namjoon wouldn’t mind getting his mouth on Yoongi in turn, not at all.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” Yoongi purrs, and Namjoon’s eyes snap back to his face. “Stay right there.”
Yoongi pushes himself up and slips off the bed, moving until he’s in front of Namjoon on his knees. Namjoon feels his breath catch in his throat as he stares down at Yoongi there, nude, between Namjoon’s legs. Hands trail up Namjoon’s thighs and he shudders as Yoongi stares at him, dark eyes seeming to dance in the dim light.
“Can I take these off?” Yoongi asks, fingers slipping beneath the edge of Namjoon’s boxer briefs.
Nodding, Namjoon lifts his hips slightly so Yoongi can slide his underwear down his legs. He feels, again, like he should be embarrassed, especially as his cock springs free, achingly hard and leaking precum. But Yoongi doesn’t seem to care, licking his lips and leaning forward.
No time to feel self-conscious when Yoongi’s fingers are curling around the base of Namjoon’s cock and his tongue is sliding along his length. Teasingly wet, Yoongi lapping at the head of Namjoon’s cock before moving downward, licking a few times from base to tip, humming in satisfaction.
Namjoon’s thighs tense and he fists his hands in the sheets, unable to tear his gaze away from Yoongi’s face. When Yoongi parts his lips, taking the head of Namjoon’s cock into his mouth, Namjoon nearly comes on the spot.
It’s because Yoongi hums when he does it, nearly a purr, sounding so happy to have Namjoon’s cock in his mouth. And his eyes roll up and meet Namjoon’s, Yoongi blinking prettily through his lashes as his tongue swirls around the head.
Yoongi closes his eyes then, breaking eye contact when he begins to sink down further on Namjoon’s cock. Warm wetness engulfs him as Yoongi slides down until his mouth meets his curled fingers. Yoongi’s mouth is so hot, so tight as he hollows his cheeks and begins to bob his head. He swirls his tongue as he moves, teasing along the underside of Namjoon’s cock until he’s panting.
Biting back a curse, Namjoon sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, letting his chin thump to his chest. Heat rushes through him, arousal burning through him like fire with every bob of Yoongi’s head, every drag of his lips and tongue.
It’s been a while for Namjoon, even before he and Yoongi started whatever this is, before they kissed in that bar after the concert. It’s been a while and Namjoon forgot how good it could feel. Or maybe it’s never felt this good, never like this. Maybe it’s all Yoongi.
Unclenching one of his hands from the sheets, Namjoon brings his palm to Yoongi’s cheek, cupping the curve of his jaw. Yoongi’s eyes flutter open and he pauses his movements, pulling back slightly until just the head of Namjoon’s cock is on his tongue. He suckles at the sensitive flesh as Namjoon strokes his thumb along Yoongi’s cheek, brings it to his lips to trace the stretch of them, feel the slickness there of saliva and precum.
Yoongi moans at Namjoon’s touch and Namjoon’s body feels like it’s wound tight as a bowstring. His fingers trace Yoongi’s lips before his thumb returns, prodding lightly at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth, feeling the stretch, the way Yoongi’s lips are drawn so taut around his girth.
“This is so fucking hot,” Namjoon rasps, “feels so good but…” he trails off, swallowing hard. His voice sounds scratchy and thick. Making a questioning sound in his throat, Yoongi blinks up at him. “I just -” Namjoon breaks off this time, somehow unable to get the words out.
With one last flick of his tongue, Yoongi pulls back, just his hand remaining on Namjoon’s cock as he licks his slick lips. He settles on his heels, tilting his head up at Namjoon. “What is it, Joonie?” he asks, voice low, affected. His lips quirk into a smirk. “You wanna fuck me?”
Groaning, Namjoon reaches down and grabs Yoongi’s biceps, pulling him up and into his lap. Yoongi doesn’t resist, letting Namjoon drag him up and settling atop his thighs as Namjoon crashes their mouths together. He can taste himself on Yoongi’s tongue, a slight bitterness of precum mixed with the sweetness of Yoongi’s lips. The kiss is heated, Namjoon feeling half desperate as their mouths move together.
And not just their mouths, Yoongi is grinding on his lap, their cocks rubbing together, slick and wet, as they kiss. The feeling of Yoongi in his arms like this, naked and wanton, is making Namjoon feel a little mad. He can’t help but roll his own hips up, craving more friction.
“Come on, Joonie,” Yoongi purrs, almost goading, nudging their noses together.
Namjoon obeys, shifting on the bed to push Yoongi off his lap, manhandling him onto his stomach on the mattress. Namjoon follows, kneeling behind him and gripping Yoongi’s hips to pull him up until he’s on his hands and knees. Yoongi lets him, pressing his ass back into Namjoon’s grip when Namjoon’s hands slide from his hips to his cheeks. His fingers squeeze into the meat of Yoongi’s ass, firm and perky, feeling the weight of him in his hands.
If he could, if Yoongi’s hadn’t just played a set on stage, Namjoon would love to eat him out. Maybe another time, next time, maybe in the shower in the morning or after breakfast or - Namjoon pauses that train of thought, blinking it away. He’s getting a little ahead of himself.
Yoongi makes an impatient sound and Namjoon refocuses, thumbs sliding into the cleft of Yoongi’s ass to pull his cheeks apart, exposing his hole. A dusky pink like the rest of him, smooth and - Namjoon pauses, leaning closer, slightly shiny.
Namjoon trails his thumb over Yoongi’s hole, applying slight pressure. The skin is slightly tacky, shiny with the remnants of lube, his entrance stretching easily as Namjoon tugs at his rim. “You…”
“Mm,” Yoongi hums, arching his back and pressing against Namjoon’s thumb. “I got a little excited before the show.”
“Excited,” Namjoon parrots.
“Mhm,” Yoongi confirms, shifting on the bed to reach out a hand, tugging open the drawer of his nightstand. He fishes out a bottle of lube and a condom, tossing them back to Namjoon before turning his head, meeting Namjoon’s gaze. “Was thinking about you.”
“Fuck,” Namjoon breathes, scrabbling for the bottle of lube. His cock throbs between his legs and he’s sure he’s leaking all over Yoongi’s comforter right now. He clicks open the bottle, squeezing what’s probably too much lube onto his fingers before grabbing Yoongi again, one hand on his hip as he brings the other to his entrance.
“Start with two,” Yoongi encourages, “want you in me.”
God, Namjoon wants to ruin him. And then maybe buy him breakfast, give him a massage. Fuck, he wants so much.
But right now, the first thing will do.
Yoongi opens so easily for him, his body easily accommodating two of Namjoon’s fingers when he slips them inside. Namjoon watches the stretch of Yoongi’s rim as he thrusts his fingers in and out, scissoring them to loosen the muscle further. His rim is so pink, shiny and slick with lube, swallowing Namjoon up. And Yoongi makes the prettiest sounds, even better now that they’re not over the phone. Deep, breathy moans and whimpers with every thrust of Namjoon’s fingers.
It doesn’t take long at all until Yoongi is begging for another finger, and then more. Namjoon tries to take his time, making sure Yoongi is thoroughly stretched, but it’s hard when Yoongi is whining and Namjoon’s cock almost hurts.
When he finally pulls his fingers out, Yoongi whining that he’s ready, Namjoon watches as his hole clenches around nothing. Cursing to himself, Namjoon rips open the condom and gives himself a few strokes, hissing at the sensitivity, before sliding it down his length. A little more lube drizzled onto his cock and Namjoon is grabbing Yoongi by the hips, aligning their bodies.
Holding himself by the base, Namjoon guides his cock to Yoongi’s entrance, slipping through the slick lube between his cheeks. Yoongi presses back, breathing out something that could be Namjoon’s name, his hands curling in the sheets. Namjoon lets out a shaky breath and, with his other hand holding Yoongi’s hip to keep him in place, presses forward.
There’s a little resistance, even after fingering Yoongi he’s so tight. The head of Namjoon’s cock breaching him and Namjoon sees stars. Everything hot and wet, constricting around his cock. He can feel himself twitching and he breathes through it, squeezing his eyes closed as he rocks a little deeper.
Yoongi is panting beneath him, head hanging between his shoulders as Namjoon slowly presses into him. Namjoon goes slow, partly for Yoongi’s benefit and partly so he doesn’t come immediately, slow rocks of his body that drive his cock deeper every time until he’s all the way in, hips pressed flush to Yoongi’s ass.
He gives them both a few moments to adjust, slumping a little over Yoongi’s body as he tries to get his heartbeat and breathing under control. He presses his lips to Yoongi’s shoulder, trailing messy kisses along his skin as Yoongi’s own breathing evens out and he relaxes. When Yoongi starts to rut back against him, Namjoon takes it as his cue to move.
Holding Yoongi’s hips in either hand, Namjoon slowly pulls back before pushing in again. A roll of his hips, sticky slow, driving in even deeper. His cock drags along Yoongi’s tight walls and they both moan at the feeling. Ecstasy, really, or something like it. Because it feels amazing, as Namjoon rolls his hips, grinding deeper into Yoongi’s body with every deep thrust.
But it’s not enough.
Not enough when Namjoon wants to ruin and Yoongi is making the prettiest sounds. Barely words, just moans and gasps. But mixed it, Namjoon can hear it, more, he breathes, harder, he pleads.
And Namjoon wants it too.
Pulling out nearly all the way, Namjoon spreads his legs a little wider, steadying himself on his knees, and snaps his hips. The sound Yoongi lets out is loud, almost a choked wail when they collide. Their skin slaps together and Namjoon feels like he’s half on fire as he begins to move in earnest.
There’s little finesse to it, Namjoon can acknowledge that. He’s holding Yoongi tight, fucking him hard and deep, punching moans from Yoongi’s chest that have Namjoon’s head spinning. The slap of skin on skin is loud, the squelch of lube and sound of their loud moans filling the room. Obscene, really, and Namjoon can’t get enough of it.
Can’t get enough of the way Yoongi is pressing back to meet his thrusts, of the way he mewls from every thrust. It’s like he’s falling apart beneath Namjoon, hands scrabbling in the sheets, hole clenching around Namjoon’s cock.
And still Namjoon wants more. Wants to make sure Yoongi is feeling as good as he is, wants to kiss him and touch him and -
Namjoon slides his hands around Yoongi’s body, one on his chest and the other on his belly, and tugs him up. Yoongi gasps as the movement shifts Namjoon’s cock inside him, arching as Namjoon drags him up to fit Yoongi’s back against his chest.
“Fuck,” Yoongi groans, heading falling back against Namjoon’s shoulder as he tries to steady himself on his knees. “Namjoon, fuck.”
Pressing a kiss to Yoongi’s cheek, Namjoon takes a moment to look down the line of their bodies. With Yoongi like this, up on his knees and curled into Namjoon’s chest, Namjoon can see everything. The pink flush of his skin, the pebbled buds of his nipples, and his hard cock, leaking onto the sheets below them.
Wrapping an arm around Yoongi’s chest, Namjoon begins to move again, thrusting up into Yoongi’s body. Yoongi groans, head rolling on Namjoon’s shoulder, body arching again. Namjoon takes the opportunity to kiss him, tilting his head to bring their mouths together in a messy kiss. It’s clumsy, sloppy, but Yoongi returns the kiss, lips and tongue against Namjoon’s.
Trailing his free hand down Yoongi’s sweaty skin, Namjoon takes hold of Yoongi’s leaking cock. The reaction is immediate, Yoongi’s entire body tensing, hole clenching almost painfully around Namjoon’s cock. Yoongi groans into Namjoon’s mouth, his cock twitching in Namjoon’s grasp. Yoongi’s hands fly to Namjoon’s arms, fingers digging into Namjoon’s forearms, grounding himself and squeezing as Namjoon jerks him off.
All of it is uncoordinated, messy, but Namjoon doesn’t care. Not when he can feel himself drawing close to the edge, not when Yoongi is in his arms, panting into Namjoon’s mouth. He can tell Yoongi is almost there too, hear it in the pitch of his whines as Namjoon thrusts into him, trying to stroke in time with every kick of his hips.
“Gonna come,” Yoongi rasps, his lips against Namjoon’s, and Namjoon feels arousal surge in his own belly, a spring coiling tight, ready to snap.
Yoongi comes with a gasp, a broken moan spilling from his lips as he tenses like a bow string, curling forward as he begins to tremble. Namjoon feels Yoongi’s cock twitch, sticky cum painting his fingers, and Yoongi’s hole clenching rhythmically around him. A hiss of his name, passing from Yoongi’s lips to his own mouth, sends him over the edge.
Namjoon groans as he cums, hips jerking and jack rabbiting as he buries himself deep, filling the condom. His vision swims a little and he squeezes his eyes closed, riding out his high until he slumps, spent, onto his heels.
They don’t move for a few long moments, Yoongi still against Namjoon’s chest, nearly boneless in his arms. His hands are still curled around Namjoon’s forearms, barely holding himself up. Slowly, they relearn how to breathe, heart rates settling and the sweat on their bodies beginning to cool. When Namjoon finally opens his eyes, he finds Yoongi already looking at him. Their gazes meet and Yoongi leans in, pressing their lips softly together.
It takes them a few more minutes to part, for Namjoon’s softening cock to slip from Yoongi’s hole and their bodies to separate. Yoongi reaches for his t-shirt on the floor and they do a half assed job of cleaning the cum, sweat, and lube from their bodies.
“Do you want me to get a towel or something?” Namjoon asks when Yoongi tugs him back down onto the bed, the two of them lying on their backs side by side.
“Nah,” Yoongi says, voice slightly hoarse. “Shower later.”
Namjoon doesn’t know if that means they’ll both shower, or Yoongi will. Maybe after Namjoon leaves.
Should he leave? Probably. He’s not sure what else to do, nerves starting to seep in as he lies here, staring at the ceiling. He’s about to voice the thought aloud, offer to leave, but Yoongi moves before he can.
With a groan, Yoongi pushes himself to a sitting position and then stands up. Namjoon watches as Yoongi stretches his arms over his head and moves toward the desk. He can’t help but stare a little, at the lithe curves of Yoongi’s body, all that naked skin on display, still so pink. He can even make out darker pink on his hips, what looks like imprints of Namjoon’s own fingers.
Fuck.
It makes Namjoon’s soft, spent cock stir a little, but he pushes the thought away when Yoongi turns back.
“So,” Yoongi begins, returning to kneel on the bed. “As promised.”
He holds out the Persona record and Namjoon props himself on his elbows, looking at the signatures on the sleeve. “This is awesome,” he says, sitting up fully so he can take the record. “Thank you.”
Yoongi hums, moving closer until he can curl against Namjoon’s side, resting his head on Namjoon’s shoulder and slipping an arm around his waist. “I did kind of bully it away from you,” he admits, a teasing edge to his tone.
“A little,” Namjoon chuckles, turning his head to see Yoongi, the soft curve of his smile. “You were cute though, so I couldn’t say no.”
Ducking his head, Yoongi hides the curve of his smile against skin. But he can feel it there when Yoongi presses a kiss to his shoulder. “You think I’m cute.”
“Obviously.”
Yoongi giggles again and it’s bright and happy and so cute. “You’re cute too.”
There’s another pause and Namjoon wonders, again, if he should go. But Yoongi is there, gently taking the vinyl from Namjoon’s hands and setting it gingerly on the end table. And when he turns back, it’s as if he read Namjoon’s mind. “Stay?”
A smile comes to Namjoon’s lips at Yoongi’s request. “You want me too?”
“Obviously,” Yoongi says, echoing Namjoon’s words. “I’ve spent a month wanting you in my bed, I’m not gonna let you leave now.” He grins. “At least not until you buy me breakfast in the morning.”
“Alright,” Namjoon laughs, grinning right back. “Deal.”
“Good,” Yoongi says, leaning back and dragging Namjoon down with him until they’re snuggled together on the bed. “It’s a date.”