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you need him (i could be him)

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yoongi meets namjoon under very weird circumstances.

somehow, he's gotten himself talked into visiting a club in underground hongdae, a small and ugly place recently discovered by hoseok, his best friend of ten years. there is something off in the glint hoseok's eyes bear when he talks about it in his shirt from the latest collection of bathing ape and skin tight leather jeans he wouldn't be able to afford even if he suddenly won the lottery he plays constantly, but yoongi trusts hoseok more than he trusts himself sometimes, so he agrees to meet him there.

a mistake, yoongi concludes the second they walk in, this was a horrible mistake.

today hoseok is wearing hood by air and it immediately tells yoongi something is wrong, "where did you get this?" he asks, hoping he doesn't sound too accusatory, but he really is curious. wearing an expensive brand like that has always been a dream for both of them, ever since their college life took them away from home and yoongi slowly went broke trying to sell his mixtapes. as far as he knows, hoseok's situation isn't any better than his.

"from the store," hoseok answers, a lopsided grin decorating his features. and that's when yoongi notices that he's not deathly skinny like himself anymore and that his skin is positively glowing in the neon lights, "and guess what? i've been eating regular meals, too."

yoongi is aware that, as a best friend, a bro, a companion for life, he should feel happy for hoseok; but the bitterness in him pairs up with the feeling of betrayal that hoseok would keep something like this from him - since it has obviously been going on for a while - and serves to double the anger he's feeling, "and you decide that now is the right time to tell me?"

hoseok notices the obvious shift in yoongi’s behavior - of course he does, he's not stupid - but for once, he doesn't look apologetic. in fact, his grin only broadens, causing yoongi's fingertips to prickle with anger. that little-

"i got myself a sugar daddy,” hoseok whispers, instantly breaking yoongi’s train of thought. his entire being freezes with the newfound information and when hoseok pulls away, having leaned in so yoongi could actually hear him over the music blasting through the speakers, his thighs begin to shake.

“a sugar daddy,” yoongi echoes, just to clarify. hoseok’s enthusiastic nod does nothing to ease the knot forming in his belly, “you know, i want to ask for details but i really have no idea where to start.”

“and you don’t have to,” his best friend shrugs, leading them both to a secluded area of the club, full of leather couches and glass tables. it’s easier to breathe here since there aren’t a lot of people loitering around in the dark, so yoongi allows himself to relax just a little bit. hoseok tells him to sit down and yoongi obeys without questioning, still feeling like he’s walking on clouds rather than actual ground.

“okay so,” he begins. yoongi wants to interrupt and say they haven’t ordered anything but then the bartender he’s noticed upon their entrance shows up seemingly out of nowhere and places two tall glasses with crimson liquid in them. yoongi side-eyes hoseok but the younger barely spares him a glance, too busy downing the contents of the glass in three large gulps, “it’s just red wine hyung, calm down.”

“how did he know- just, never mind,” he sighs, “finish what you were saying.”

“this isn’t an ordinary club,” hoseok leans back in his seat, extending both his arms on either side of him like he’s presenting a project for science fair he’s worked particularly hard for, “look around you. look at the types of people that come here,” and yoongi does just that - people watching is what he does best, after all. it’s hard to see their faces but their silhouettes are enough for yoongi to differentiate the rich from the poor. girls dressed in scarcely anything, yet selling only their cut off jeans that serve to cover the essentials could pay for two months of yoongi’s rent. guys in suits, so many of them - some more expensive than the rest - either mingling on the dance floor or sitting in the shadows like predators ogling their prey.

the realization starts to fully settle in then - what kind of club this really is and, above all, why hoseok brought him here in the first place - and, “oh, hell no.”

“hyung,” hoseok whines immediately, like this kind of response is exactly what he’s expected (honestly, yoongi wouldn’t call himself that predictable) “look at this realistically. you barely have enough money to eat once a day. and let’s be honest here - your mixtapes aren’t selling,” yoongi flinches at the truth in hoseok’s tone. yes, he is very well aware that he’s only sold ten or so copies so far, all to family members back in daegu, but hoseok doesn’t have to voice that fact out loud, “you will die if you continue living like this. and unless you’re willing to work eight hours a shift in retail, this is your best solution.”

“why did you bring me here if you knew what my answer to your - ridiculous, might i add - proposition will be?” yoongi asks simply out of curiosity, thumb grazing the rim of his untouched wine glass. hoseok resembles a dejected puppy across from him and if yoongi had a heart, he might have even felt sorry for him.

“just to make you consider it at least, i guess,” hoseok pulls out a white card out of his pants pocket and slides it towards yoongi in one swift movement, “i know you’re not fond of… escorting in exchange of money but this is a really steady income, hyung. and all they ask is sex in return, it’s strictly a business deal. take it from someone who knows from experience,” he even dares to wink at him, his playfulness back in full swing, to which yoongi scoffs.

“ew, i don’t need to listen to your sexscapades, thank you very much,” he pretends like there isn’t any color in his cheeks when he accepts the business card hoseok gave him, telling himself (and hoseok, out loud) that it’s only to get the younger off his back. to hoseok it seems to be enough, because he drops the entire topic only seconds later, pulling yoongi to the dance floor under the accusation that he has to “finally live a little”.

 

sleep finds him around five a.m. later that night, with the sunrise already kissing the edges of stormy clouds and rain hitting his shaky windows in an inconsistent pattern. yoongi’s bedroom is cold and the thin sheet he uses to cover himself isn’t nearly enough to stop his feet from shaking, but he’s grown used to it by now. the pants and shirt he’s discarded the second he came home annoyingly stare at him from the chair he’s thrown them on, the card threatening to fall down on the floor from his pocket any second now. yoongi stares at it, hoping that he sets it on fire, but all it does is fill his stomach with nervous butterflies.

god knows that yoongi needs the money if he wants to survive not only next month, but the rest of his life as well. and considering that, a) he hasn’t written anything solid since college started and, b) he really doesn’t want to work in retail, he doesn’t have a lot of options left.

he falls unconscious somewhere between worrying over his financial situation and hallucinating creepy old men who force him to call them “daddy” as they slip won bills in the band of his underwear, but he’s awakened barely four hours later by his phone ringing.

“why the fuck are you calling me at nine in the morning,” yoongi hisses into the phone without even properly looking at the dial screen because it can’t be anyone else but that irritating brat hoseok likes to call his roommate - kim taehyung.

“hoseok hyung came back last night completely smashed and destroyed my life sized luffy figurine, and since he’s the one who usually makes me breakfast but is literally unable to get up right now, it’s your job as his best friend to feed me,” taehyung recites on the other line, barely pausing to breathe. yoongi’s fingers clench around the device in his hand, listing all the possible ways he could kill hoseok in, “so let’s say around ten? in front of our dorm?”

yoongi doesn’t have much of a choice but to accept. he has just enough money to afford a donut for taehyung to stuff his face with and black coffee for himself as a distraction from lashing out on the younger when really, he hasn’t done anything wrong, “you look like shit,” is the first thing taehyung tells him when they meet and yoongi regrets the last train of thought immediately.

they sit in a cafe not that far away from where taehyung and hoseok live, in front of the entrance with witnesses as taehyung insisted just in case yoongi really does decide to kill him, and yoongi momentarily enjoys the peacefulness of a sunday morning. there aren’t a lot of people out and he’s always preferred tranquility over the busy streets of seoul like they usually are.

“so,” taehyung says after three whole minutes of silence - he’s shoved the entire donut in his mouth in the meantime - “hoseok hyung finally got you into the business, huh?”

“what?” yoongi flinches, his daydream broken with just a few simple words, “what the hell are you talking about?”

“the card in your pocket,” taehyung points at it innocently and indeed, there it is - the stupid, treacherous business card hoseok gave him last night, with a name and phone number scribbled down neatly in the middle, “it’s from one of the sugar daddies. isn’t that a funny title? a sugar daddy? i wonder who came up with it.”

“you know about this?” yoongi asks, pulling the offensive object out in the open and pointing at it with his index finger, “hoseok told you?”

“you kidding me? i’m the one who told him about it,” taehyung even looks proud of that fact.  yoongi’s mouth falls open in shock; the tall, lanky boy in front of him, so innocent that he still thinks storks bring children into this world, can’t possibly know about the world of sugar daddies.

“you… you have a…?” yoongi can’t bring himself to finish the question, his cheeks progressively growing redder as taehyung’s lips part in the perfect ‘o’ shape and his eyes widen in realization, “oh, no! not me! i have a boyfriend, remember,” he laughs, “it’s uh, one of my old friends from school. he was in a bad position after his parents kicked him out and sort of found himself one of… them. he’s living pretty well now. first year math major,” he nods along to his words like he approves of his friend’s lifestyle and, honestly, yoongi feels sick.

it’s most likely because he drank coffee on an empty stomach, but he chooses to believe it’s because of the topic at hand instead.

“so anyway, yeah, if you want to get rid of your pet rats i suggest you call that number. or don’t, if you’ve grown attached to them. i don’t know,” taehyung sneaks yoongi’s coffee away from him and into the safety of his two hands without the older’s protest. yoongi is too busy staring into the distance anyway, contemplating where in the hell’s name his life went so wrong he’s found himself surrounded with friends like these.

“you’re not bothered by that at all?” yoongi asks carefully. he doesn’t want to come off as judgmental to taehyung, especially because he just knows taehyung will retell every detail of their meeting to hoseok when he regains consciousness and the last thing he needs is for hoseok to think yoongi looks down on him. but despite it all, there is something unsettling in his stomach that refuses to go away no matter how hard he tries to broaden his mindset, something that just makes all of it wrong.

“why should i be? these are desperate times for broke college students,” taehyung shrugs his shoulders, “and you know better than anyone how hard it is to make ends meet, hyung.”



yoongi never thought it possible to push back his stubborn pride and actually listen to what other people think would be best for him, especially not in a situation like this. but sometime between his water installations breaking and the rats eating a hole through his mattress so they could breed in it he decides to actually dial the number on the card.

he expects to be met with a pre-recorded voicemail like in those sex hotlines advertised in the late hours of the evening where he’s given the option to choose a number of his preference or whatever, but instead he hears a smooth, deep voice on the other side of the line, “hello?” the person sounds like they’ve just woken up, a certain rough edge to the way drag out their vowels, and yoongi feels his knees go weak involuntarily.

“u-um,” he curses the stutter but he hasn’t exactly prepared a speech for this or anything since he mostly trusts his skills at ‘winging it’; this time, he’s certain he’s made a grave mistake once again, “who is this?” he bites down on his tongue in regret the second the words leave his mouth.

“kim namjoon,” the guy laughs and yoongi feels something - something dangerous warming up his lower stomach at the sound, “and who is this?”

the guy doesn’t sound much older than yoongi himself, but yoongi still feels intimidated by the confidence in his tone. there’s no mistaking that he is one of the rich boys with too much money and too much time to spare and it’s all the confirmation yoongi needs that he has definitely called the right number.

“min yoongi. i’m an... interested client,” he hates his choice of words but namjoon doesn’t seem to think anything of it. in fact, with a cough, he’s turned into a business-like persona that scares yoongi even more.

“oh,” there’s commotion on the other side, like namjoon is moving around, and then clear silence for a couple of seconds before he speaks up again, “alright, let’s talk over the details then.”

yoongi barely manages to stutter out an “alright,” when namjoon begins, “we can meet once a week. fridays or saturdays would be most ideal,” he nods along to namjoon’s words before realizing namjoon can’t actually see him, but it’s not like he’s listening to what yoongi has to say anyway, “i suppose five hundred thousand will be enough for the first night? we can discuss a possible change of price later,” damn, yoongi thinks, hoseok wasn’t kidding when he said it’s a strictly business deal, “and we should discuss the range of consent as well. as in, which things are acceptable and which aren’t.”

oh god, there are things- yoongi doesn’t even want to go there right now. he clears his throat instead and asks, hoping he sounds at least a little bit confident, “i haven’t really… considered them before so is it okay if i let you know of them later…?”

“of course,” namjoon agrees, “if it’s easier for you, you can put them down on paper and we can arrange a first meeting - in a public place of course - and you can see whether you’re still… interested or not.”

namjoon sounds almost teasing now and yoongi’s cheeks flush in embarrassment. i’m actually doing this, he says to himself, i can’t believe i am actually going to do this. he considers backing out last minute but a quick glance at the baby rats peacefully sleeping inside his mattress convinces him against it, “yeah, that would be desirable.”

“good then,” he hears namjoon say, tone light, “how does thursday sound? i’ll save your number and text you the exact location tomorrow.”

“thursday sounds good,” yoongi nods along. they exchange quick goodbyes and just like that, yoongi is holding the phone in his hand with namjoon’s number saved in his contacts, sitting in the darkness of his room and counting exactly how many way this could go terribly, terribly wrong.



on thursday yoongi rushes to the restaurant namjoon decided on as their meeting place right after class in worries of being late; he had only fifteen minutes to spare when the professor dismissed them and since his shower doesn’t work anymore, there wasn’t really any point in going home to change.

now yoongi realizes that it might’ve been a bad idea from the start.

he’s sitting across from the supposed ‘kim namjoon’, surrounded by people in suits and fancy cocktail dresses and waiters who dress better than yoongi could ever hope for with his budget. one of the waiters asked yoongi for an ‘appetizer’ earlier and yoongi had been left so speechless that namjoon had to order for him. and don’t even get him started on namjoon himself - eight centimeters taller than yoongi, looking polished and proper in his armani suit and giuseppe zanotti dress shoes, with his hair lifted up and stylized and skin perfectly moisturized, looking soft to the touch. not like yoongi’s thought about touching it - definitely not, he’s just here to talk over the details of their strictly. business. deal. - it’s just so distracting that it’s impossible not to sneak glances at it every few seconds.

“you look fascinated,” namjoon remarks and yoongi almost spits out the white wine he’s forced himself into drinking so he wouldn’t appear rude and ungrateful, “or is there something on my face?”

“no!,” yoongi shouts. the atmosphere of the restaurant freezes and for a second, all eyes are on them, or technically on yoongi and the wine dripping down his chin. yoongi wonders whether he’d be too cold in his hoodie and jeans if he buried himself deep in the ground right in this moment, “i mean, no,” he repeats quieter, placing the glass down on the table once the people around them lose interest, “you’re just… a lot younger than i expected.”

“just turned twenty-one, actually,” namjoon grins and leans back in his chair, thoroughly enjoying the shocked look on yoongi’s face, “you’re younger than me!” he accuses with a pointing finger and - of course, it’s just then that their waiter decides to return with the food. namjoon has told yoongi earlier that it’s beef but in truth, it’s been so long since yoongi tasted anything close to red meat that he’s completely forgotten how it looks like, let alone how it tastes.

“then i guess i should call you hyung,” namjoon winks over the rim of his glass and motions with his hand for yoongi to dig in. in retrospect, yoongi should probably be embarrassed of how fast he grabbed the utensils and inhaled the food into his stomach but he’s too hungry to actually care. namjoon seems far from minding it, too.

“wouldn’t all these formalities be weird since you’re supposed to f-” yoongi stops himself in time, giving a grinning namjoon a sheepish smile. inwardly, he cursed himself for almost voicing the reality of the situation out loud. if he does it, it’s going to become all the more real, “never mind, hyung will work just fine.”

“hyung it is, then,” namjoon nods, “did you make a list of things you consent to like i asked you to?”

“ah,” yoongi swallows, his pockets growing hot. he fishes out a crumpled piece of paper - the ‘list’, as namjoon nicely referred it to as, and of course he brought the first draft and not the actual polished one - and places it in the middle of the desk. truthfully, yoongi’s knowledge of kinks and nasty stuff involving sex is very limited, considering that he’s never really been interested in those sorts of things. there’s a bunch of crossed out words, question marks and notes such as ‘what the fuck are watersports’ written in yoongi’s messy handwriting, and a few bulletin framed in a square: blowjobs, missionary, cowgirl.

“only these three?” namjoon sounds - dare yoongi hope - a bit disappointed, but he’s still teasing when he looks up from the paper at yoongi, “well, i’ll have to get real creative then.”

yoongi gulps, throat going dry and brain going into panic mode at the innuendo behind namjoon’s words, “oh god, it’s too vanilla isn’t it? i didn’t know what to put so i just went with the most common ones on the site- actually, forget i said that, there was no site. i should’ve put watersports, i knew it-”

“hyung,” namjoon interrupts him mid-rant, but it’s not the way namjoon’s voice drops low an octave when he says the title that makes yoongi stop; it’s namjoon’s hand on top of his, his warm palm covering yoongi’s cold knuckles when he unconsciously reached out to grab the paper and the tips of his fingers stroking comforting patterns. it sends electric jolts down yoongi’s spine and his mind melts into a puddle just from one simple action and that’s when he knows for sure that he’s absolutely screwed - in both literal and figurative sense, “it’s okay. how about we just meet tomorrow at my penthouse and see how it goes? i promise we’ll take things slow,” he smirks at yoongi when he pulls away his hand, still flustered from their earlier contact, “and i’ll still pay you whether you make me cum or not.”

yoongi’s cheeks lose color only when he wakes up the next morning.



namjoon’s penthouse is vast and fancily decorated, with the most expensive paintings hanging on the walls and the floors so polished that yoongi can clearly see his reflection in them. just stepping a foot into the apartment makes yoongi feel unworthy, not with his dirty sneakers and the same outfit he wore yesterday, like just his general presence makes the place filthy.

“relax,” namjoon tells him upon entrance, letting the doors close themselves with an automatic lock. he shrugs off his suit jacket and throws it on the coat hanger in the hallways and yoongi tries to do the same before he remembers that he doesn’t have anything under his hoodie. he chooses to just take off his shoes and place them next to namjoon’s, cringing at the difference, “do you want something to drink?”

“alcohol,” yoongi says, “give me alcohol, i’m not nearly enough drunk for this.”

namjoon laughs, bending over to pick a fine brand of whiskey from the mini-fridge. yoongi pretends like he hasn’t sneaked a peek at namjoon’s ass while he did so, acting nonchalant when namjon reemerges in the living room with two glasses.

yoongi downs the whiskey in one gulp - which, admittedly, isn’t the smartest move, but neither is this entire night in his opinion, and he’s done criticizing himself for every little thing - and hands namjoon the glass back empty, feeling the effect of the bitter liquid hitting him already. he sways a little on his feet and swallows down the bitter aftertaste in the back of his throat, and then there are strong arms wrapping themselves around his waist.

“whoa there,” namjoon’s voice vibrates through yoongi’s entire body. he suddenly finds himself very responsive to every move namjoon makes, especially when said moves involve his fingers idly dancing along yoongi’s hipbones underneath his clothes and his full lips so close to yoongi’s ear, “you don’t just drink a glass of whiskey like that.”

“i know,” yoongi slurs, turning around so that he’s actually facing namjoon this time. he’s a lot closer than yoongi’s expected, their noses centimeters away from touching. yoongi’s hands grovel their way to wrap around namjoon’s neck and push him down to close the distance between them; an action mostly done on a whim, but namjoon doesn’t protest, so yoongi presses their lips together, surprising even himself by making the first move.

namjoon’s lips are a lot softer than they look, plump and warm under his own and just the slightest bit slick with spit from when his tongue darted out to wet them earlier. yoongi pulls away after a second of keeping them pressed close, risking it and looking up at namjoon to see the fire burning behind his irises. namjoon’s palms have moved upwards to rest on his waist, his grip tightening just enough for yoongi to catch the hint: he wants more.

yoongi is tipsy enough to forget why he’s here in the first place; that after they’re done - and they’ll be doing much, much more than just light kissing - namjoon is going to pay him and they won’t communicate again unless it’s another business arrangement. an intense moment passes between them, in which neither namjoon nor yoongi are sure how to proceed because their first kiss has definitely produced a spark - but then, then it’s namjoon who leans down to devour yoongi’s lips, sinking his sharp teeth into the sensitive flesh and tugging on it until it’s oversensitive and causes yoongi to let out a low whine.

“bed,” he moans, fingers attaching themselves to the buttons of namjoon’s shirt to undo them quickly and push the silk material over namjoon’s broad shoulders so he can touch his hot skin and revealed toned muscles, “now, please.”

he lets out a surprised yelp when namjoon quite literally lifts him up and carries him to the bedroom bridal style, an animalistic look in his eyes. yoongi is thrown on the mattress not even ten seconds later, legs spread in an invite for namjoon to crawl between them and use his weight to press him down. yoongi feels how namjoon is already half-hard, especially when he rocks his hips forward and provides him the friction he so desperately needs. his hoodie is pulled off of him, namjoon’s grabby hands scratching down his skinny abdomen and lips peppering kisses along his collarbones and jawline while yoongi makes a mess out of namjoon’s perfectly styled hair, tugging on the longish strands particularly hard when namjoon’s teeth leave a hickey on the side of his throat.

“hyung,” is the first thing namjoon says since they’ve started their make-out session and it shakes yoongi up to the bone. he chuckles deeply at the goosebumps that rise on yoongi’s arms, dragging his nails down them to leave angry red lines, “do you remember how your list went?”

“w-what?” yoongi mutters out, unable to answer immediately since namjoon’s sucking another mark on his collarbones, and then another right next to it, bigger and redder this time, “yeah, uh, i d-do, why?”

“i have an idea,” namjoon slides down yoongi’s body to bite the skin under his navel and dip his tongue into yoongi’s v-line, “how about we cross everything off that list in order?”

yoongi’s pretty certain that namjoon’s already made the decision for him, but he’s not complaining in the slightest when namjoon’s skilled fingers start unzipping his pants and sliding them down his thighs, along with his black boxers. being fully naked in front of namjoon when the taller boy is still at least somewhat clad is a little shameful and yoongi covers his face with his hands so that namjoon can’t see how flushes his pale skin is, “don’t hide yourself,” namjoon barks at him in a commanding tone and yoongi actually wants to listen to him, “look at me while i blow you.”

yoongi does, without protest, what namjoon’s told him; he stares with lidded eyes as namjoon mouths his cock and licks off the precome gathered at the slit, looking up at yoongi as if daring him to look away. yoongi has no desire to do such a thing, not when namjoon looks so mesmerizing like this, a mouthful of yoongi’s cock and head bobbing up and down, fist wrapped around what he can’t swallow and hair tousled from yoongi’s earlier ministrations. namjoon can’t deepthroat but he does a wonderful job at combining his tongue swirling around yoongi’s tip and hollowing his cheeks while lazily jerking him off, and like this, yoongi isn’t sure if he can last long.

namjoon keeps one of yoongi’s thighs down on the mattress with his free hand since yoongi wouldn’t stop writhing otherwise, too overwhelmed by the pleasure namjoon is providing him. he throws his head back, hoping to drown in the feathery pillows, and he’s so, so close, “namjoon… namjoonie,” he begs, unsure whether he’s begging for release or for namjoon to never stop. either way, namjoon growls in the back of his throat and the sensation is enough to tip yoongi over the edge without proper warning, filling namjoon’s mouth with warm cum.

“f-fuck,” yoongi curses, legs turning into jelly as his orgasm fully hits him. namjoon coughs in surprise at yoongi coming so soon but he swallows what he can, pulling away to lick off the cum trickling from the corner of his lips. when he looks up at yoongi again, he looks predatory.

“i see you had your fun,” he says lowly, digging yoongi’s grave with each word that leaves his mouth. he lifts himself up on his feet again and rids himself of the rest of his clothing, “but now it’s my turn. it’s what i pay you for, isn’t it?”

namjoon doesn’t let the sting of his words to properly burn yoongi’s insides and it’s not like yoongi cares too much, anyway, still wrapped up in the bliss the combination of alcohol and orgasm give. he’s properly missing namjoon’s warmth on top of him by the time namjoon’s finally fetched the lube and condom from the nightstand, warning him that he’s about to be stretched.

it feels way better than when yoongi’s done it to himself. namjoon knows exactly how to curl his finger and when to add a second one, and then the third, kissing yoongi’s heated skin and biting his lips in a passionate kiss as a distraction from the initial uncomfortable pain, “i want you,” yoongi mutters, hard again, once namjoon’s fingers stop being enough, “please, namjoon.”

“i hear you,” namjoon’s fingers comb through yoongi’s hair and it’s a little too intimate for the relationship between them. yoongi, as usual, acts blind to it; there’s a time and place to worry about those things, and it’s definitely not now, not when namjoon’s cock is aligned with yoongi’s entrance and yoongi’s legs are wrapped around namjoon’s waist to pull him in.

they let out a simultaneous hiss of pleasure when namjoon is buried to the hilt inside of yoongi, already brushing against his prostate. without a break between his orgasms, yoongi already feels how hypersensitive he’s getting, but there’s no way he’d let namjoon know, “right there,” he moans instead, fingernails digging into namjoon’s shoulders when namjoon pulls out and slams into him again hard enough for yoongi’s body to slide up the bed. yoongi’s heels dig into the back of namjoon’s thighs, continuous pleas for “more, faster, namjoon please,” and namjoon obeys with a growl each time, driving yoongi to the edge once again.

yoongi is seconds away from submitting to the abyss again when namjoon’s fist wraps around his cock and presses, hard, “not yet, hyung,” namjoon smirks, the tips of their noses touching, and watches yoongi’s eyes fill with unshed tears at being denied his second orgasm that night, “we have one more position left.”

yoongi wants to scream at namjoon - “what the fuck are you talking about?!” but primarily just scream at him for being a prick - but namjoon cuts him off with a bruising kiss, tongue slipping past yoongi’s lips to lick the inside of his cheek and yoongi forgets all his protests, so focused on kissing namjoon back that he barely notices namjoon flipping them over so that yoongi’s sitting on his lap this time, thighs burning from the stretch, “ride me,” he whispers hotly into yoongi’s mouth and settles his hands on yoongi’s hips, pulling them forwards until yoongi gets the hint and grinds down on him on his own.

in this position, namjoon can fuck up into him better, fill him up even more than he could before, and yoongi is more than happy to do all the work by himself, using namjoon as a leveler and never faltering in his kisses. if he could look at himself as a third person, he’d probably be a lot more scandalized than he feels.

namjoon’s hands alternate between groping his ass and keeping him upright by his waist, until yoongi’s whimpers become too high-pitched to ignore and his forehead hits namjoon’s shoulder along with his hips fluttering in exhaustion; it’s only then that namjoon finally decides he’s merciful enough to jerk yoongi off while the boy on top rides his dick into oblivion.

“i’m gonna cum,” yoongi whimpers out. he’s desperate in the way he grabs for namjoon’s cheeks to kiss him while painting namjoon’s fist white and him clenching around namjoon’s cock is what tips namjoon over the edge as well.

“fuck,” namjoon groans into the kiss, “fuck, that was intense.”

“y-yeah,” yoongi stutters, too weak to slide off namjoon’s lap without his help, “did i earn my money?” he asks after a beat of silence, just enjoying the softness of namjoon’s pillows and the sheets he’s lying on.

“definitely,” namjoon nods, turning around on his side so he can look at yoongi’s fucked out expression, “and i’ll even let you spend the night here, since i denied you orgasm that one time.”

uncertainty coats namjoon’s words, like he’s never actually said them out loud before, and yoongi just knows that this will all backfire on him later.

but now, now namjoon’s offer sounds more than tempting; and yoongi figures it’s only fair he makes use of namjoon’s generosity while he can.