His heart beats in his chest with anticipation. He can feel the blood rushing all the way to his ears, tinting them pretty shade pink at the mere thought of what could possibly happen.
As he raises his hand to knock three times on the wooden door, he notices his fingers tremble slightly. He isn’t scared, Min Yoongi is never scared. Was he terrified? Maybe.
He finds himself holding his breath in as he waits for the door to open. Yoongi feels like he is standing in front of the gates to Hell, waiting for his verdict.
He can hear muted music playing behind the closed door, some old American R’N’B, music he doesn’t like and understand.
The sudden slow shuffling of feet inside the flat makes Yoongi’s heart twist and turn in his chest. A lump forms in his throat and it suddenly feels too tight for him to breathe. He wants to turn on his heels and run away back home, hide under the sheets and never see the daylights again.
But before he can move, the door suddenly opens and he is facing a young, tall and very attractive male with silver grey hair. He is towering over Yoongi by good couple of inches, his eyes dark and lazy, piercing through Yoongi’s like thousands of sharp needles. His head is hold high, wordlessly telling Yoongi who is the superior there. He folds his arms across his chest, another gesture telling Yoongi to fucking think before he opens his goddamn mouth.
Yoongi swallows, hard and dry, the lump in his throat has somehow gotten thicker. His eyes are nervous, they’re shifty, all over the place, focusing on everything but not Namjoon’s face. The air feels thick, heaving upon Yoongi like a cloak of Death.
Yoongi feels small, small and dirty with the way Namjoon’s looking at him: like he is right at the bottom of food chain, along with rats and vermin.
Namjoon quirks his eyebrow, his face stone-like. He is asking Yoongi to speak before he loses his patience.
“Hey,” Yoongi actually squeaks out, his voice pathetically high, his cheeks embarrassingly red as he tries to regain his voice by coughing quietly. He feels humiliated already, just by how Namjoon is looking at him like he is nothing but a piece of shit.
“I’m not giving you anything,” Namjoon says, voice dripping with metal-like coldness as his eyes become even sterner. Yoongi can tell Namjoon means it; hint of no emotions in his face, his chest puffed out almost funnily, his arms tightening around his chest. Namjoon straightens his back so he looks taller, stronger.
“Namjoon, please, what you gave me last week wasn’t enough, if you could just-“ Yoongi’s pleading voice stops as soon as Namjoon’s fingers curls around his upper arm and squeeze hard. The grip is strong and bruising, telling Yoongi to fucking learn his place already without Namjoon actually having to say anything.
“You either gonna take what I fucking give you or you can find yourself someone else who’s gonna sponsor your scrawny little ass, get it, fucker?” Namjoon hisses out, words stumbling from his lips like acid. They burn underneath Yoongi’s skin together with utter desperation and hopelessness. Yoongi wants to reach out and scratch them out, cut them out with the blade he keeps underneath his pillow but he knows Namjoon always finds a different way how to get underneath his skin. So he takes it. He takes it but he doesn’t give up.
“I need it Namjoon,” Yoongi whispers, his eyes closing in disbelief of how pathetically weak he sounds. He has been going through withdrawals of coke high for days, making him want to crawl out of his fucking skin, his guts feel like someone has been constantly stabbing them with a knife. His body is constantly shaking, his skin is covered in cold sweat.
“Cute, go to someone else,” the corner of Namjoon’s lips quirk as he tries to slam the door in Yoongi’s face who is quick enough to put his leg there. He looks up at Namjoon, eyes wide and almost teary, his little pink lips bitten raw, utter desperation written all over his face. His fingers tremble from where they are balled up into small fists.
“You’re the only one who can give this to me, this is the last time, please, and I promise I’ll find someone else after,” Yoongi is babbling at this point, voice slurred and almost inaudible. He is completely frantic, almost dropping to his fucking knees to kneel in front of Namjoon like he is someone worth worshipping.
Namjoon looks at him, he eyes him, carefully and slowly, like Yoongi is his prey and he has been starving for days.
Yoongi knows Namjoon knows him better than anyone ever could, he can read him like open book. Namjoon knows when Yoongi is lying and when he’s telling the truth or when he’s not so sure. It might be cute, the little bond they share, if they met underneath different circumstances than this.
Namjoon doesn’t say anything, he keeps his cold, stone-like face but he opens the door a tad bit more, a space big enough for Yoongi to slip in through. Who almost cries in relief as he squeezes through the small gap into Namjoon’s apartment.
Yoongi’s skin is itching again, but it’s a good kind of itch: he knows he’ll have a dose that he oh so desperately needs.
Yoongi looks around the hallway. It’s dark, the only source of light is a lightbulb hanging on a cord from the ceiling that is stained with god fucking knows what. The floor is wooden, the parquets broken in different places. The air is heavy and smells like something sweet and Yoongi remembers Namjoon’s obsession with scented sticks. Helps you to calm down and relax, he said once to Yoongi.
Yoongi tries hard not to cough.
Namjoon closes the door and locks it. They’re alone and Yoongi is nervous. Namjoon doesn’t say anything, just slips past him and disappears into the tiny living room.
Yoongi takes off his coat, hangs it on ratty coat hook and follows Namjoon. His fingers are shaking but he braces himself with few deep breaths.
Yoongi knows Namjoon’s apartment like it was his own. He’d know his way even if he was blind. The living room is joined with tiny kitchen which Namjoon rarely use. There’s a couch in the living room, too modern for the whole seconds-before-the-ceiling-falls-down vibe of the apartment. A TV that doesn’t work. CDs scattered all over the ground, as well as sheets of paper, newspaper, magazines. Dirty clothes. Empty bottles of alcohol. The whole apartment is a place Yoongi is drawn to. It contains everything he needs it. The thought makes him want to vomit. This apartment has seen Yoongi at his best, at his worst, during his agonies and during his highs. He hates it because this place can almost be called home. But it’s far from home and Yoongi hates how often he finds himself at Namjoon’s doorstep, begging.
Namjoon sits himself on the couch, folding his legs beneath him as he continues in rolling his cigarette. Yoongi watches him, eyes dark and small, careful and hungry. Namjoon knows what he’s doing, years of practice allow him to roll a cig within seconds. He puts it between his lips and lights it up with a flick of lighter. The end burns brightly, similar to how Yoongi burns under Namjoon.
Namjoon doesn’t look up but Yoongi knows he is watching.
He takes a drag out of the cig, holds it in for few seconds before he lets his head drop back and he breathes the smoke out. It compiles into a thick cloud that fills the room with way too familiar smell.
“What do you need, Yoongi?” Namjoon asks and his voice is sultry, deep and husky, although he already knows. He doesn’t call Yoongi ‘hyung’ because that’s not his place. Yoongi’s not above Namjoon. He is deep, deep beneath him, not even reaching his ankles.
Yoongi swallows, his little kitten tongue poking out to lick on his lips. His voice is quiet and small when he speaks.
“Angie, I need angie,” Yoongi answers him, not daring to look him right in the eyes. He was in this position a week ago and now he’s here again, ready to offer everything he has to get what he wants and needs.
Namjoon laughs albeit there is nothing funny. He laughs because of Yoongi’s desperation, because of his willingness to get what he desires. He stubs the cig into half full ashtray that he keeps permanently on his coffee table. He stands up and Yoongi cowers.
Tick tick tickticktick.
Yoongi hears the clock on the wall ticking as Namjoon makes his way over to him, steps light, airy and confident. There is the slightest faint of smirk on his lips as he stands in front of Yoongi.
“Our little bitch needs some angie,” Namjoon clicks his tongue, quirks his eyebrows and Yoongi slowly dies inside a bit more. He knows Namjoon is dragging this out as much as he can without throwing Yoongi into a fit of agony as he did few times before. Yoongi going through withdrawals is a nasty and dangerous thing to both of them.
“I’ll give it you under one condition.”
Yoongi snaps his eyes up, his head nodding quickly.
“Whatever you need, Namjoon,” he agrees way too quickly and another piece of dignity burns in his drugged out body.
Namjoon takes a step closer so he is inches away from Yoongi who suddenly feels small, so small. Namjoon smiles, and it could almost be gentle and kind if it wasn’t for something sinister behind it. Something that only Namjoon knows there is.
“You’re mine, for the whole night,” Namjoon whispers and Yoongi nods. He has officially entered the Hell.
Yoongi’s rolling his dollar bill into tight little roll, his eyes focused on how Namjoon splits a gram of coke into four lines, making sure all of them are the same. Yoongi trembles. His fingers shake as he rolls the bill, his eyes sparkling slightly. He looks like a kid during Christmas.
“You look like you’re about to fucking nut, calm yourself,” Namjoon growls, his eyes fixated on the white powder beneath.
If it weren’t for the promise of good quick fuck, he’d turn Yoongi down the second he showed up. But Yoongi’s good in bed, he knows how to suck a cock properly, his ass is tight and nice and warm despite being thoroughly fucked, he is willing and pliant and obedient. He fucks for cocaine and that’s perfect for Namjoon.
Yoongi doesn’t care. He kneels next to the table when he sees Namjoon’s done. He holds the rolled bill in his fingers like a cig, hands trembling slightly. Namjoon almost smiles. Yoongi’s kneeling next to him and he brings his hand to run at the back of Yoongi’s neck. He feels the stiff muscles there, his fingers digging into the knots slightly. Yoongi purrs, his eyes closing slightly.
He holds the rolled up money to his nose as he bends down, licking his lips before he takes a deep breath. He snorts the lines in both of his nostrils before he holds his nose, his whole body slumping back. He feels lightweight and he feels the annoying itch underneath his skin soothe down. His eyes slip close as he breathes in, the lump in his throat back. There are stars behind his eyelids and sweet taste at the tip of his tongue. His nose doesn’t burn anymore, like it used to do when the whole fuckery with cocaine started. He’s used to it now.
Yoongi knows that two lines will last him roughly two hours. Namjoon also knows that. He seems to know Yoongi better than he does himself. His whole body runs on acid only Namjoon can offer.
Yoongi’s addicted to coke and being addicted to coke means that he’s addicted to Namjoon.
His whole body seems to float. The only thing he can hear is the rush of his blood in his veins, the rapid beating of his heart. His fingers don’t twitch anymore, his hands are laying lifelessly in his lap.
He can feel Namjoon praying open his lips with something cold and wet and he realizes that his tongue feels like rubber and his mouth is dry.
He takes a gulp of something cold and bitter, something that tastes like beer, a drop of honey-like liquid drips from the corners of his lips. He lets them trickle down his pale face until they catch in the collar of his shirt.
Yoongi blinks his eyes open after what feels like an hour. He blinks once, twice, thrice until his eyes adjust to the dim light that feels brighter than the fucking sun. His pupils are dilated, a fucked out expression on his face. He looks gone, completely blown away and Namjoon thinks he looks beautiful like that.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi slurs, blinking slowly as he turns his head towards where he thinks Namjoon’s sitting. He is leaning against the couch, folden between the sofa and the coffee table. He tries to stand up, his knees weak and wobbly. Namjoon helps him, guides him to sit on his lap with his pretty thighs on each side of his own. He holds him in place until Yoongi regains his drugged out senses.
“You’re fucking disgusting,” Namjoon says when Yoongi opens his eyes again. The older one smiles, a Cheshire cat grin plastered on his pouty lips. He knows it. He’s twenty five and he is disgusting. He fucks anyone for the smallest gram and has suffered heart attacks at the age of twenty four. He knows it.
And he tells it to Namjoon with his arms around his shoulders, “I know,” he purrs out with the same shit-eating grin. Namjoon loathes him.
Namjoon takes a moment to examine Yoongi. He’s pretty and pale, he’s small and tender, soft edges and curves, thin shoulders, protruding collarbones and hipbones, plush ass and pudgy thighs, with small sleepy eyes, soft pink lips and little kitten tongue. He’s not pretty like any other men he has seen, with tanned muscles, strong arms, firm stomachs. He’s beautiful in a delicate way, in a way that can be so easily destroyed. He is like beautiful porcelain doll, with just a few cracks away from shattering in Namjoon’s calloused hands.
Yoongi is willing to shatter if it means he can feel like this for one more night.
His porcelain skin bruises easily, his cheeks bunch up when he smiles and he has small teeth and all of his gums show when he smiles. He likes to drink peach tea and likes the feeling of silk against his skin. Namjoon loathes him.
He loathes him because when he saw him for the first time, he made himself a promise that this boy, this beautiful bright boy who had sharp tongue and eyes but heart made of gold and the softest hands, would never end up like Namjoon. He was bubbly and liked to talk out of his ass, making people laugh with his witty humor. He liked to read books and paint and go on hikes.
Namjoon loathes him because he saw someone so pretty completely destroy himself for the prize of quick booze, something that never lasted long enough. Namjoon loathes him because he wasn’t strong enough to stop him. He helped Yoongi to slowly destroy himself, and that hurt more than a bullet through his skull.
Namjoon bites his tongue, hard and almost too much, when Yoongi looks up at him, eyes small and hazy, his pink lips stretched into almost invisible smile and his cheeks the colour of cherries. He’s sweating, Namjoon can see, Yoongi’s body temperature always increases when he’s boozed out.
“Joonie…” Yoongi whispers and Namjoon’s heart clenches tightly at the old nickname. One day, when Yoongi came to his doorstep, going through the agony of not having anything for week, sweating, crying and barely able to stand on his feet, he called him ‘Joonie’ for the first time and the nickname kind of stuck. Namjoon feels a pang of pain in his chest every time Yoongi calls him that because the memory of how helpless and broken Yoongi looked is permanently burned behind Namjoon’s eyelids.
“Play with Yoongi-ah,” Yoongi prompts, voice small but there is certain roughness to it. Namjoon would smile at how innocent it sounded if there wasn’t something tempting behind his hazed eyes and in the curl of his lips. He giggles, high pitched and tinkling and Namjoon loathes him.
Namjoon kisses him hard on the mouth, the pressure of his lips on Yoongi’s small ones bruising. He holds his thin wrists in his hands, fingers curled tightly around them, digging into the pale skin.
Yoongi is hooked up on the feeling of being handled so roughly by someone stronger than him, albeit someone younger. He gives up all of his control the second Namjoon’s lips touch his.
Namjoon loathes Yoongi and he loathes himself as well. He knows Yoongi’s not in the right state of mind and that his actions are mostly affected by the drugs and he loathes himself for giving up so easily and just giving into the feeling of Yoongi’s small kitten tongue and the hotness of his mouth.
Namjoon is addicted to the feeling of Yoongi pressed up into his body just like Yoongi is addicted to cocaine. To Namjoon.
Namjoon often dreams of tearing Yoongi apart. Breaking him, completely, taking him apart piece by piece, taking everything Yoongi has, stealing it, claiming it, never giving it back. Namjoon loathes him, he fucking loathes him, as his tongue licks into Yoongi’s small mouth, so warm and so wet and so, so fucking good, his fingers gripping Yoongi’s hips hard enough to leave dark marks that turn purple and red and blue.
He thinks about taking that long, sharp knife that he keeps in the small nightstand next to his bed (that is more old wood than it is mattress), the blade sharp and ice cold, and dragging it across Yoongi’s milky, soft skin, painting the beautiful boy carmine. He thinks about craving his name into Yoongi’s skin permanently, just so everyone knows who he belongs to, who owns him.
Namjoon doesn’t love him. He loathes him. He loathes him because Yoongi’s small body feels so fucking good in his arms and his lips taste sweet and wet and warm and he is so beautifully willing to please.
Yoongi whimpers when Namjoon’s front teeth catch on Yoongi’s bottom lip, biting hard enough to spark the arousal in Yoongi’s veins a little bit more, to make his skin glisten underneath the yellow light, to make his eyelashes flutter and his eyes tremble. Drugged Yoongi is hypersensitive to every single touch and Namjoon loves it. He knows he could make Yoongi cum in his tight little pants just by kissing his pretty pouty lips and with whispers in his ears, telling him how fucking filthy he is, how sweet he feels in his arms.
But Namjoon isn’t going to do that, he is going to have his own way with Yoongi, he is going to do whatever he wants to him, if he wants to fuck Yoongi until he bleed, he is going to do just that. Yoongi got what he wanted. Now it’s Namjoon’s turn to soothe down his hunger.
The kiss turns messy and it is more tongue and teeth than it is lips. Namjoon’s eyes open few times to bask in the sight in front of him, Yoongi’s peachy cheeks flushed pretty shade of pink, his cute little lips bruised and swollen, his thin fingers trying to grasp at whatever part of Namjoon he can reach. He truly is a pretty little thing. Namjoon wants to devour him.
Namjoon chases Yoongi’s face when the older boy pulls away to take a deep breath. He kisses him again, keeping strong hand around Yoongi’s throat. His grip is tight but not enough to strain Yoongi from breathing in. His thumb and the other fingers are resting against Yoongi’s pulse points. It’d take one strong squeeze for few seconds and the game would be over for Yoongi.
Yoongi’s fingers wrap around Namjoon’s hand, the one around his neck, hold tightly onto his wrist. Namjoon licks into Yoongi’s mouth with more urge, his tongue grazing his teeth, pressing into the roof of his mouth, sucking on Yoongi’s tongue until he whines, high pitched and desperate.
Namjoon pulls away with a chuckle, the grip on Yoongi’s throat tightening just a tiny bit.
“Whining like fucking bitch in a heat, aren’t we, Yoongi-yah?”
The way Namjoon smiles, devilish and sinister, thirsty and hungry, starving, makes Yoongi’s turn cold and his dick harden where it’s trapped in his tight jeans. Namjoon’s fingers want to squeeze tighter, his fingertips itch where they can feel Yoongi’s blood pulsing from beneath his alabaster skin.
Yoongi whimpers pathetically at the nickname, his cheeks reddening with every passing second, his eyes fucking gone. His thighs on each side of Namjoon’s hip spread further like a little whore begging to be fucked.
It’s so degrading when Namjoon calls him Yoongi-yah, it’s humiliating and embarrassing, he is the older in the two of them, and he should be the one in charge. Albeit his dick twitches painfully at that nickname. They’ve done the bare minimum, barely even kissed properly and Yoongi is already whining and squirming, moments away from creaming his pants.
“You’re fucking filthy, did you know that? So willing to let me fuck your tight little ass just for some shitty booze? Fucking disgusting,” Namjoon spits out and Yoongi mewls at the insults.
(Both of them know that Namjoon doesn’t really mean them.)
Yoongi opens his little kitten eyes to look at Namjoon, his lips spreading into loopy smile. He licks his dry lips, bites into his bottom one and lets it bounce back into place. His eyes sparkle with something tempting, almost like they are asking Namjoon to keep going, to prove him who is in charge.
“Just want your cock, Namjoonie. Want your fat cock to fuck me raw, baby, to split me open. Been thinkin’ about you, you know?” Yoongi whispers, his words slurred and quiet and fucking delirious. His skin is scorching hot with need and want. Namjoon always fucks him so good, fucks him until he cries and screams out Namjoon’s name, until his insides are painted white with Namjoon’s cum.
Namjoon basks in Yoongi’s words, is fucking giddy because of them, his lips stretching into cocky, proud smirk. Yoongi knows how to boost up his ego, how to make him feel like he is on top of fucking everyone, like he rules this motherfucking world.
His hand leaves Yoongi’s throat, only remains are splotches of red all over Yoongi’s pale neck. They move to his ass, kneading the plushy and soft flesh like it’s a dough. Yoongi mewls again, like the little cockhungry kitten he is.
Namjoon is aware, somehow, in the deep corners of his fucked out mind, that he is technically taking advantage of the small precious Yoongi that blushes more than he doesn’t. But it’s always been like this. They rarely fuck when Yoongi is capable of rational thinking. They only fuck when Yoongi’s blood is running on cheap coke, the only time Yoongi feels truly alive.
“Fuck, you’re so pretty, babyboy. So pretty on my lap, yeah, so pretty just for me, right, sweet thing?” Namjoon whispers into Yoongi’s ear, kissing his earlobe gently before he sinks his teeth into it, pulling shaky sigh from Yoongi. Namjoon’s breath is hot on his skin, feels like it is burning his skin and flesh into ashes and Yoongi wants Namjoon to set him on fire. He wants to die in the flames Namjoon set to his skin.
Namjoon’s hands travel from the top of Yoongi’s thighs, all over his ass that fits to his palms so perfectly, over the lower of his back. Namjoon can feel the protruding spine over Yoongi’s paper thin skin, should be worried if the older boy is eating properly but he could be fucked to do that right now. All he cares about is getting his rock hard cock inside Yoongi’s tight and warm ass and fucking him full of his cum.
Yoongi preens as Namjoon’s hands travel all of his lithe body, feeling every curve and every dip, his fingertips pressing into all of Yoongi’s sensitive spots. He watches the boy squirm on his lap, watches as his head falls back, his eyes closed and his pouty pinky lips parted in perfect O. He looks like a masterpiece ready to be teared apart.
Namjoon can’t wait.
“Do you want me to fuck you in here or you wanna go to the bedroom? Or on the floor like the pathetic, little cockslut you are? The choice is yours, my little Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon whispers into the pulsing vein on Yoongi’s neck, breathes over the soft skin and bares his teeth into the flesh. He sucks and sucks and sucks until Yoongi is moaning into Namjon’s hair, his mouth hanging open, the cock trapped in his jeans twitching. His thighs quiver as he tries to close them, like a fucking prepubescent teen but they stay spread, Namjoon’s hand holding them open. The bruise Namjoon leaves right below Yoongi’s jawline is small but is already darkening.
He can’t wait until he presses his calloused fingers into it and watches how Yoongi writhes below him, begs and screams and cries, only for him. Only for Namjoon.
Yoongi whispers, more like chokes out, something that Namjoon can’t understand. The younger narrows his eyes sharply at the boy in his lip, his fingers gripping his chin roughly and making the older boy look at him. Yoongi moans.
“You need to speak up, baby. Can’t hear you, pretty boy,” Namjoon whispers and it’d almost sound sweet and soothing, lovely and nice, if it weren’t for the poison dripping through his teeth, for the satanic look behind his eyes.
“Don’t care,” Yoongi whispers frantically, his breath coming out quick and frantic, “fuck me wherever you want, Namjoon, please,” he adds like the good boy he is. Namjoon smiles, pleased and excited, as he kisses Yoongi’s ear, whispering how he’s going to fuck him so good he cries.
Namjoon prompts Yoongi to climb off his lap, the older boy’s knees buckling a little bit as he stands on his wobbly knees. Yoongi’s hair is messy, sticking to every direction, his cheeks are flushed all the way to his ears and his lips are slick with spit, so red and swollen. Namjoon wants this picture to be burned behind his eyelids till the end of times.
“Take off your clothes for me, okay, pretty baby? Can you do that on your own?” Namjoon rasps out, his back resting against the couch with his legs spread. Waiting for Yoongi to be in between them.
Yoongi shakes all over, his legs struggling to keep his weight up and he just wants to be fucked, needs to be fucked.
“Or are you too drugged to do it yourself, hm, filthy baby? Do you need help with that? You need help with something so simple as undressing yourself?” Namjoon adds with a smirk, enjoying how Yoongi struggles to stand upright, how his thighs shake and his fingers itch.
“Please,” Yoongi whispers, desperate and so on the edge. He needs Namjoon’s hand on his body, needs to feel the warmness and roughness of them, need them to feel alive again.
Namjoon nearly rips Yoongi’s shirt into threads as he tries to undress him as fast as possible. Yoongi doesn’t struggle, staying put like a perfect little ragdoll, letting Namjoon undress him, get his pants off so quick and rough the button doesn’t survive and ends up somewhere on the ground.
Namjoon groans at the sight in front of him, Yoongi’s small, beautiful body covered in old bruises that will soon join the new ones, the better ones, the ones that hurt more.
His dick is trapped in little satin shorts, hugging his perky ass and plush thighs beautifully, the powder pink colour complimenting his pale skin so deliciously it almost hurts.
Namjoon loathes him for being so fucking delicate.
“You tryna’ be a fucking girl, Yoongi? Want to have pretty little pussy and cute small tits or what?” Namjoon laughs and Yoongi whimpers. His chest is the same shade as his cheeks, cherry red. His dick twitches again, so painfully and so hard it’s clearly visible in the little shorts that cover almost nothing.
“Answer me, Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon presses, sitting upright so his palms can reach Yoongi’s shoulders. It’s not hard, the boy is fucking small. His palms push down, Yoongi’s knees giving up and he falls to his knees, just like God made him to be. On his knees, ready to have his mouth stuffed with cock. Begging for it.
Namjoon can feel the pulsing arousal in his dick, still covered with sweatpants and he wants to reach down and touch himself to the sight of Yoongi on his scraped knees, with his mouth red and open, absolutely delirious.
“Answer me,” Namjoon grits out. His jaw is clenched, his eyebrows are furrowed. He hates disobedient people. Disobedient people get punished and Yoongi is nothing special. Never was.
Yoongi chokes out a little “No” as a hand creeps around his throat again, this time gripping tightly and only giving him small room to breathe. He opens his mouth to say something or maybe to gasp for breath but Namjoon’s lips are on his, silencing him, taking what last of oxygen is left in his lungs, and then leaving as quickly as they came.
“You don’t deserve to be pretty, Yoongi-yah, you know? Only good boys deserve to feel pretty and you’re not a good boy, are you?” Namjoon whispers and it fucking hurts because Yoongi knows. He knows he is not pretty, he is too small and too skinny and his bones are a bit too visible and his eyes are too dark, too small, he knows but he still wants more. He needs to hear every Namjoon word, everything he has to say to him.
“Suck my cock, pretty baby,” Namjoon rasps out and he himself wants to laugh at the irony of his words. But he bites into his lip before he says anything, not wanting to ruin the situation with Yoongi potentially breaking down into tears and throwing himself into a panic attack like it had happened before.
Yoongi nods hurriedly, his slender fingers coming to work on Namjoon’s sweatpants and underwear, taking it off as quickly as he possibly can. His fingers shake and he’s pretty sure he’s drooling, his head feels fucking dizzy and the whole world is spinning around him and all he can focus on how badly he wants Namjoon’s dick in his mouth.
Yoongi preens at the little “Good boy” that leaves Namjoon’s mouth before he can stop it and usually, he’d laugh about how bizarre and ironic this situation is but now he just wants to cry, cry because he needs to be fucked, needs his throat to be fucked with Namjoon’s cock.
Yoongi’s mouth is warm, so so warm, wet and hot and so fucking good around the tip of Namjoon’s cock that he could cum just from this.
Yoongi on his knees, with his elbows propped on Namjoon’s thighs, with his face flushed deep and bright, his bangs all sweaty and messy, with his hand around Namjoon’s cock while he suckles on the tip like it’s a fucking popsicle, is a sight made from Gods.
Namjoon groans, his breath coming in short, frantic puffs as let his fingers get tangled up in Yoongi’s sweaty hair, tugging slightly to urge the older boy to stop teasing him.
The first time they started fooling around, Yoongi had slight problem with taking Namjoon down his throat, the younger boy’s cock thick, long and girthy and so fucking perfect. It’s deep red, with slightly lighter pink and it’s delicious to look at, so nicely big and heavy, with pulsing vein on the side and the tip is wet with precum.
All it took for Yoongi to learn how to take it properly is when Namjoon fucked his throat, raw and hard, damaging his vocal chords in the process.
Yoongi purrs quietly when Namjoon tugs at his hair harshly, trying to push his mouth lower on his cock, chasing the sweet warmness and wetness that is Yoongi’s mouth and the sweet little tongue.
“You gonna get to work or you want me to fuck your mouth until your lips bleed like the cute little bitch you are deserves?” Namjoon grits out, eyes hooded and pupils dilated to that extend where it looks like his eyes are just black. There is deep crease between his eyebrows and on another occasions, Yoongi would brush his thumb over and kiss Namjoon until it disappeared.
Yoongi moans around Namjoon’s tip, stuffed snuggly in his mouth, he can feel it nudging lightly the back of his throat, the musky, clean taste, something so Namjoon, leaving delicious taste on his pink tongue. His eyes are closed as he relaxes his jaw a bit more, taking another couple of inches before stopping and trying to open his mouth even wider.
Yoongi tries to breathe through his nose since it’s usually easier but he can’t help but splutter a little bit as he sinks lower, almost there. Namjoon’s cock is wonderfully heavy in his mouth, on his tongue, he can feel the pulsing vein on his tongue and the mushroom like tip daring to push past his gag reflex.
Namjoon’s grip on Yoongi’s hair tightens, making the older boy whimper quietly in his throat. The small sound send vibrations all over Namjoon’s cock who hisses through gritted teeth, his teeth baring his bottom lip for a second.
“C’mon, I know you can take this, Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon whispers huskily before he forces Yoongi’s head down, forces him to take his cock all at once. Yoongi splutters and chokes around Namjoon’s cock being forced so deep into his throat, tears spilling from the corners of his lips as he tries to make his jaw go slack. His fingers nail dig into Namjoon’s thighs, almost drawing blood from how hard he is clutching the skin. He can feel Namjoon’s heavy breathing above him, can feel his thighs tensing up, can feel his abdomen tighten from where his nose is pressed against his pubic area.
Yoongi is completely shaved, unlike Namjoon. Namjoon likes to keep him this way, all smooth and soft, with no hair, the way a good baby bitch is supposed to be.
“Yeah, that’s it baby, you’re such a little slut, so hungry for my cock, aren’t ya?” Namjoon grunts before releasing the grip on Yoongi’s hair, the boy spluttering as he quickly slides off Namjoon’s cock, his mouth raw and red and so wet, his pretty pink cheeks glistening with tears. He coughs and hiccups, breathing quick and uneven, before Namjoon’s fingers are in his hair again and his head is being shoved down again, Namjoon’s thick cock stretching Yoongi’s throat.
Yoongi chokes again, saliva dripping down the sides of Namjoon’s cock as he tries, he tries so hard, to relax his throat and to open it more. He doesn’t protest because as Namjoon said, he already got what he needed, what he wanted and he promised Namjoon that he can have his own way with him.
So he lets the younger to choke him around his cock, to hold his nose as he holds him down on his cock, Yoongi choking and desperately trying to breathe, crying out for Namjoon, Yoongi’s cock painfully hard in his tiny little shorts that are all wet, so wet from the way Yoongi is steadily leaking precum now, the arousal in his stomach too much to contain.
Namjoon fucks his mouth as he holds him in place with a large hand on the nape of his neck, Yoongi’s eyes closed and his jaw relaxed. Namjoon moans and praises him, about how good he is, what a good little baby he is and how his mouth feels so fucking good around his cock.
Yoongi’s eyes burn with the tears that never seem to stop, his lips are swollen and red and slick with spit and precum and tears and Namjoon thinks to himself that he looks beautiful like this, completely fucked out from just sucking someone’s dick.
“Gonna cum, sweetheart, wanna cum all over your pretty face, will you lemme do that, Yoongi-yah?” Namjoon stutters out as his hips thrust into Yoongi’s mouth steadily, though they’re spasming and becoming more uneven, drawn out as Namjoon pushes his hips against Yoongi’s nose again and stays, the warmth and slickness of Yoongi’s mouth on his cock feeling absolutely heavenly.
Yoongi shakes his head no, “Want you to cum in my mouth, please, Namjoon-ah. Yoongi-yah wants your cum, yeah, wants your load in his mouth, pleaseplease,” he slurs out as his lips attach to Namjoon’s tip again, suckling and licking and the tip of his tongue dipping into Namjoon’s slit, lapping up the precum leaking steadily.
“Kitten wants milk, Yoongi-yah? Is kitten hungry for my cum, is he?” Namjoon cradles Yoongi’s face almost gently, his thumbs brushing over Yoongi’s hot and red cheeks, over his lips, his thumb pushing past and into Yoongi’s hot mouth, letting the boy suck on it, lap it up with his tongue, moan around it as his small hips buck desperately into the thin air.
Yoongi moans and nods, desperate, so fucking desperate for Namjoon’s cock in his mouth, to feel him blow his load, to feel the cum on his tongue, lips, to rub it all over his teeth and gums and the insides of his mouth almost like to savor the taste.
“Feed yourself then, you cockhungry bitch,” Namjoon growls and it takes not even a second for Yoongi before his lips are around Namjoon’s cock again, this time focus more on the tip and the thick vein, his thin fingers working on the rest of his cock, jerking him off the same time Yoongi bops his head a little bit. He keeps his cheek hollowed, he puts as much pressure on Namjoon’s cock as he can, simply wants to please him, wants to call him his good baby boy again.
Namjoon comes soon after, groaning deeply as he holds Yoongi’s head on his dick as he cums and cums, Yoongi lapping up his cum with his small pink tongue, swallowing hungrily like he hasn’t eaten in years. He whimpers and sobs and cries like an actual bitch in heat, milking Namjoon’s cock dry until the boy slaps his hands away from his spent cock.
Yoongi’s heaving a little bit, his throat burning and raw and his tongue feels like a piece of sandpaper. There’s a bit of spit and cum in the corners of his mouth and his chin and Namjoon licks it off with his tongue, then presses his lips to Yoongi’s, pushing the spit into his mouth with his tongue.
“You’re such good babyboy, Yoongi-yah, so fucking good for me, sucking my cock and swallowing it all like you were made for this, love it, love you so much, angel,” Namjoon whispers thickly into Yoongi’s lips, feels the smaller boy shiver in his arms, feels his thighs quiver.
And maybe Yoongi wants to cry a little bit more because he knows Namjoon doesn’t mean those words, will never mean them in a way Yoongi wants them and he knows he uses them in a form to calm Yoongi down, to let him know he is safe and that he is not going to purposely hurt him.
It’s fucked up, what they have between them, the bond they share but it is all Yoongi have.
Namjoon and drugs is all Yoongi will ever have.
“Namjoonah,” Yoongi purrs quietly, blinking at him slowly, his eyes out of focus and like he is not even there. His dick is straining painfully against the front of his cute little silky booty shorts. There’s small patch of wetness from where Yoongi’s prick is leaking precum steadily, he can feel the slickness between his thighs, all the way from his dick to his balls. It’s disgusting and so uncomfortable but when Namjoon cups him through the underwear and moans filthily, whispering how wet his precious Yoongi-yah is for him, Yoongi shudders and bites back a moan. He is so close, so so close, he just needs Namjoon to touch him, to touch him there where it hurts, hurts so much. His skin feels like it’s on fire and it is suffocating him, the arousal burning underneath his skin and tinting his skin pretty shade of pink.
Namjoon leans over to press gentle kiss against the shell of Yoongi’s ear. He sucks on his earlobe, playing with the piercing Yoongi has until he can taste the metal on the tip of his tongue.
“Do you want me to fuck you, Yoongi?” Namjoon whispers, voice deep and husky, his hands all over Yoongi’s thighs, kneading and caressing and slapping and gripping, “do you want me to pound you pretty little ass? Fuck you until you’re screaming and you’re so full of my cum? Do you want that, Yoongi-yah?”
Namjoon’s words are filthy. So so filthy but Yoongi loves it, loves it when Namjoon handles him like he is nothing but piece of dirt at the bottom of his shoes. Loves it when Namjoon hurts him, makes him bleed, cry and sob and beg for him to stop, to keep going. Loves it when Namjoon tells him how dirty he is, how disgusting he is, what a fucking slut he is, how much he loathes him.
It’s fucked up kind of validation but it is validation. It’s at least something that can make Yoongi feel somehow validated, somehow wanted.
Yoongi knows he probably deserves something better, deserves better life, way better than the one he is currently living. He knows, he knows, but he pretends that he doesn’t.
Yoongi whines and whimpers, his small hands clutching desperately on Namjoon’s bicep, his nails digging into that supple flesh, so thick and strong and so nice, Namjoon’s skin the colour of melted caramel and oh fuck, Yoongi loves it.
“Yes, yes, oh god, fuck yeah, please Namjoon, just fuck me, pleaseplease,” Yoongi pleads, on the verge of tears and absolutely desperate. His cock hurts, hurts so much and he is wet all over, with precum and spit and sweat and it feels gross but he knows Namjoon likes him like this, likes him wet and smooth and soft.
“Get on the floor, on you pretty hands and knees, yeah, with your sweet little ass up,” Namjoon licks a stripe up Yoongi’s neck where his vein is pulsing beneath his milky skin. Yoongi hisses but obeys, he always obeys, before scrambling up and kneeling on the hard, wooden floor, with his ass pushed up, just like Namjoon wanted him.
Namjoon knees behind him, his large palms on Yoongi’s small hips, his thumbs rubbing small circles into the soft, plushy skin. Yoongi has always been small and tender, his body feminine with small shoulders and waist, thicker thighs and perky little nipples. Namjoon loves it.
“Look at your little ass,” Namjoon’s voice is husky and quiet, as his hands move from Yoongi’s hips to his ass, to grope it, to knead the flesh between his fingers. Yoongi purrs and pushes his ass more into Namjoon’s hands.
“Let’s take these off, sweetheart,” Namjoon kisses at Yoongi’s spine, feels it move beneath his lips as Yoongi squirms beneath him when Namjoon tugs the underwear over his red and swollen cock.
Yoongi is completely smooth down there, no traces of hair, his dick is pretty and pink and small, smaller and thinner than Namjoon, with dark red tip, and it hangs heavily between Yoongi’s legs, smearing precum all over the floor.
“I can’t wait to fuck you, Yoongi-yah, can’t wait to pound your pretty little cunt until you’re screaming, fuck, you’re so good, my pretty boy,” Namjoon groans, his left hand fisting his cock, his hand sliding up and down and his thumb rubbing at his tip even though the slide is dry.
He pushes two fingers into Yoongi’s mouth, not even bothering to tell him what he needs to do because Yoongi knows. He has been in this position way too many times.
Namjoon’s right hand comes in contant with Yoongi’s ass in hard slap, the skin immediately tinting red. Yoongi whimpers and moans around Namjoon’s fingers, his cheeks flushed and so fucking pretty.
Namjoon wraps his fingers slick with spit around his cock, squeezing tight and hissing when he thumbs at his slit. A gush of precum spills out and over Namjoon’s hand.
“You ready for my cock, baby? Do you think you can take it without my fingers?” Namjoon kneels behind Yoongi, grabbing his hips and pressing his cock between Yoongi’s buttcheeks.
Namjoon knows Yoongi loves it when it hurts but he still wants to make sure. (He doesn’t know why and he doesn’t want to find out.)
Yoongi whimpers and nods furiously, almost like a child, his voice coming out in small broken moan and fuck, Namjoon wants to ruin him.
“Fuck, your ass looks so good, baby, so small and so nice around my cock, Yoongi-yah. Your little cunt is so tight and warm, sucking me in every time, fuck,” Namjoon rasps out, words going straight to Yoongi’s cock who whimpers helplessly at Namjoon’s words, feeling the younger boy rub the head of his cock against his crack before he hears spit on it, feels him rub the spit into his hole, his thumb barely going past the muscle ring.
He is tight, Yoongi knows, he hasn’t been fucked in weeks and even though he fucked himself with his fingers over and over again until he came three times with his asshole raw and red and his cock spent and painful, it wasn’t the same when Namjoon fucks him, his cock so long and so thick, stretching Yoongi so nicely.
Namjoon fists his cock again, guides the tip against Yoongi’s asshole before he pushes his hip forward. The second his tip passes the tight ring of muscles, Yoongi cums in hot spurts, thighs quivering and shaking and trying to close, tears spilling from his eyes as he hiccups Namjoon’s name.
Yoongi feels his stomach tighten and then relax as his cock twitches against the wooden floor, his knees threating to give out.
“Fucking look at yourself, didn’t even get my cock in you and you already milked your tiny dick, that’s not what good boys do, Yoongi-yah,” Namjoon whispers into his ear, the tone of his voice dangerous and threating as the boy underneath him trembles. Yoongi tries to say something but all that comes out is a quiet desperate hiccup.
Regardless Yoongi just came, he is still hard, his cock beautiful shade of red, pretty and swollen and slick with cum. Namjoon loves it.
“On your back, my sweet little bitch,” Namjoon slaps the side of Yoongi’s thigh, hard. Yoongi whimpers again but lays on his back nonetheless, right into the pool of his own cum and he squirms uncomfortable, tries to change his position but Namjoon holds him down by his thighs, pinning the boy successfully to the ground.
Yoongi feels small, so small, with Namjoon towering above him, with his strong, toned arms and nice, firm stomach with lightly defined abs, with sharp jawline and silver hair and eagle-like eyes.
“Now, Yoongi-yah, my precious little boy. I’m going to fuck you, I’m going to fuck your little, wet and tight cunt just like you like it,” Namjoon murmurs into Yoongi’s ears and grabs Yoongi’s dick, wrapping his fingers around it. It’s cute, how small Yoongi’s dick is and how nicely it fits into Namjoon’s hand. He is uncut, unlike Namjoon. His dick is uncut and small and blushy pink in colour with pretty red tip and it twitches painfully as soon as Namjoon dips his thumb into the slit, smearing the precum all over the head.
“But,” Namjoon smirks, fireworks of something sinister and devilish bursting behind his eyes, as squeezes Yoongi’s cock tightly at the boys, making the younger boy almost scream.
“You’re not going to cum until I tell you to. If you do, no angie for you for a month, get it, you little slut?” Namjoon says and his voice is so stern, so cold and so dominant, it feels heavy on Yoongi who whimpers pathetically, nodding his head a little.
Namjoon pins Yoongi’s thighs down by sitting on them before he wraps his right hand around Yoongi’s neck, not tight enough to choke him but tight enough to feel him the squeeze.
“I said, did you get it, bitch?” Namjoon slaps Yoongi across his right cheek, not hard enough to bruise him but just enough for the little boy beneath him to cry out in pain and desperation as his cock twitches again, almost pathetically at the pain that shots through Yoongi’s cheek.
“Y-yes, I g-get it,” Yoongi whispers, eyes wet and cheeks hot and flushed and stained with tears and his lips swollen and so red from constantly biting them.
Namjoon smiles at him and cradles his face in his, kissing his cheeks and forehead and nose and chin and both of his eyelids and Yoongi wants to cry all over again.
“Thank you, babyboy, you’re so good, doing so good, being so, so good, my little princess,” Namjoon praises him and kisses Yoongi on the lips, lets him suck on his bottom lip like a baby sucks on their mother’s nipple. Yoongi’s eyes are still producing tears as Namjoon kisses him deeper, licks into his mouth and gently bites Yoongi’s soft and plushy and so, so sweet lips.
Namjoon knows that Yoongi likes to kiss during sex, likes to keep his lips pressed against Namjoon’s and swallow his moans and whispers of Yoongi’s name and breathe in what Namjoon breathes out.
“Fuck Yoongi-yah, Joonah, please, fuck your little princess, please,” Yoongi pleads desperately against Namjoon’s chin and it should be gross because Yoongi’s drooling all over it and his pretty little tongue is all over his skin but he nods nonetheless.
Namjoon turns Yoongi on his stomach and then drags his little ass up, helping the boy to his knees as his shoulders stay on the ground. It’s uncomfortable and Yoongi’s spine is going to hurt but none of them give two fucks.
“Fuck, your cunt is so pretty, princess. So small and pink, just like your prick, right? Do you think your small, little pussy can take my big cock, hm, Yoongi-yah? Do you think you can take it?”
Yoongi has to bite onto his fingers so he doesn’t blow his load again, his whole body shaking before he whimpers out a little “Yoongi-yah can take it”, his head tucked into his arms.
Namjoon’s hands knead Yoongi’s ass, so nice and soft underneath his fingertips, before he slaps both of his buttcheeks, harder than ever before and Yoongi winces for the first time. It stings, badly, and his skin burns but the pain soon gets lost in the arousal flowing through his body.
Yoongi feels the younger boy spit on his asshole, feels his fingers rubbing it in and over his asshole so the slide is not that painful. Yoongi likes it when it hurts.
“Okay, baby, I’m going in, okay, relax,” Namjoon whispers and kisses up and down Yoongi’s spine as he pushes the tip of his cock against Yoongi’s tight asshole.
Yoongi is warm. So fucking hot and wet inside, tight and absolutely perfect on Namjoon’s dick, his walls soft and warm and his head actually starts spinning.
Yoongi is clenching his jaw because the stretch is painful, it feels like his skin is being teared apart at the edge but it feels so good too, his cock twitching helplessly in the air.
“Fucking Christ, Yoongi-yah, you feel so good on my cock, your cunt feels so good on my cock, so hot and tight, so perfect, my sweet little girl, you’re so perfect,” Namjoon mouths at Yoongi’s neck who cries out in pleasure, small, broken noises escaping his mouth as he closes his eyes and pushes his hips against Namjoon’s, trying to get him to move, to fuck him properly.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi wails like a little kid, digs his nails into the wooden floor, his mouth hanging open. He is pretty sure he is drooling or maybe crying, his face is wet and his cheeks are burning.
“I’ve got you, Yoongi-yah, don’t worry my pretty baby,” Namjoon presses a kiss against Yoongi’s shoulder, “remember what I said: no cumming before I give you my permission.”
Yoongi nods his head yes before Namjoon grabs Yoongi’s hips, nails digging into the flesh and he slowly pulls his cock out.
And then slams into Yoongi at one go.
Yoongi screams. He screams out as he feels his asshole being stretch open by Namjoon’s cock and it burns, it burns and it feels so fucking good.
Namjoon’s cock is so deep into him, can feel him almost in his stomach and oh god, he needs him deeper, deeper.
Namjoon wastes no time before he is grabbing Yoongi’s hips harder in his hands and starts fucking into the smaller boy, his thrusts hard and quick, almost brutal.
“Namjoon,” Yoongi moans out and he sounds so broken, so fucked out, his voice raspy and small as he tries to find any leverage, trying to push himself on elbows but immediately giving out.
Namjoon groans, deep in his throat, as his pelvis slams against Yoongi’s roughly, watching as his cock disappears in Yoongi’s tight heat, as his hole stretches open against Namjoon’s girth, Namjoon’s balls slapping against Yoongi’s ass as the older boy wails and cries and whines.
“Fuck, your cunt is taking my cock so well, baby, you feel so fucking good around my cock, so tight and so wet, gonna fuck you until you’re all raw and red,” Namjoon mumbles deliriously as he fucks Yoongi, fast and hard, just like the little bitch deserves. The grip Namjoon has on Yoongi’s hips is bruising and almost like he wants to break the skin and dig into Yoongi’s flesh, trying to fuck the older boy back on his cock.
Namjoon cages the boy, leans over him and lets the boy rest on his stomach with his ass pushed up slightly before he starts ramming into him, the pace even brutal than before, Yoongi’s cock now brushing against the wooden floor painfully.
Yoongi cries into his arms, bites onto his fingers as he tries not to cum when Namjoon slams his dick against his prostate repeatedly, intentionally because he knows Yoongi can cum just from this. Just from a thick, big cock in his tight little ass.
“Just like that princess, take it, take my fat cock in your small ass, I know you can take it,” Namjoon whispers into Yoongi’s ear, the words so filthy but so delicious as Yoongi opens his thighs more so the position is more comfortable and clenches tight around Namjoon’s dick. The guttural groan that leaves Namjoon’s mouth goes straight into Yoongi’s dick.
“Fucking shit, that’s right baby, grip me like that again, grip me again with your cute little ass, my sweet little boy,” Namjoon slams his hips into him hardly, his pelvis hitting Yoongi’s so strongly the boy’s knees almost gives out. He stays like it, with his cock buried in Yoongi’s asshole to the hilt, watches as the boy struggles to fuck himself on his cock, whimpering and crying out, so tender, so sweet. Namjoon loves it.
Namjoon pulls out of him and ignores the tiny whimper laced with pain that leaves Yoongi’s mouth before he flips Yoongi over on his back, spreads his thighs wide and rests Yoongi’s calves on his shoulders. He leans forward to wrap his right hand around Yoongi’s throat, not squeezing, just holding before he fucks into him again, pushing his cock into Yoongi with one thrust.
Namjoon’s thrusts are rough and brutal and straight up animalistic, his pelvis slamming into Yoongi’s again with squelching sound. Yoongi tries to push up against Namjoon but the strength of Namjoon’s thrust make him glide up the floor a little bit, his back burning.
“Fuck, your little pussy feels so good, Yoongi-yah, so warm and so tight, can’t wait to fuck you full of my cum, can’t wait to breed your tight little ass, my sweet little bitch,” Namjoon groans as he puts the pressure on Yoongi’s neck who screams out as Namjoon’s dick abuses his prostate again and again, helpless little moans leaving his mouth. His fingers wrap around Namjoon’s wrist, cock twitching as Namjoon continues to fuck his brains out.
Namjoon fucks into Yoongi through his own orgasm, his cock twitching and spilling cum into Yoongi’s ass who whimpers and wails at it, his asshole clenching up and his cock threating to burst.
“You look so good with your ass full of my cum, Yoongi-yah, fuck, I love it so much, your ass is so perfect, I know you can take it,” Namjoon pulls out as he feels his cock go flaccid. A little bit of cum gushes out of Yoongi’s tight hole and Namjoon moans at that, bends down to smear it on his fingers before he fucks it into Yoongi again, four fingers three knuckles deep into his ass.
At this point, Yoongi is writhing and squirming, his hips kicking, his little teeth biting into his bottom lip hard enough to tear the thin skin.
“Namjoon please, please, please let me cum, I need to cum, I c-can’t,” Yoongi hiccups, his eyes red and swollen from all the crying as he fucks himself back on Namjoon’s fingers, his cock hurting.
“Just a little bit baby,” Namjoon murmurs into the skin of his thigh as he sucks bruises into the supple flesh, his thumb poking at Yoongi’s swollen and abused rim.
“You’re doing so good babyboy, I am so proud of you, I love you, no one is as perfect as you,” Namjoon pushes his thumb next to his fingers, all five fingers of his now fucking into Yoongi slowly who sobs and thrashes and wails. Yoongi bites into his fingers so he doesn’t cum, he can’t cum, he’s not allowed.
But when Namjoon’s fingers slam into Yoongi’s fucked out prostate, the older boy cums. He cums so hard and so thick, his back arching from the ground, as he sobs and screams and cries out for Namjoon who holds him down and strokes his cock until he milks him dry and Yoongi whimpers out in oversensitivity before he loses his consciousness, completely blacking out.
When Yoongi wakes up, he finds himself tucked in Namjoon’s bed. Namjoon is lying next to him, with his arm over Yoongi’s waist. Yoongi body hurts all over, he hurts so much and he is sure he wouldn’t be able to walk the next few days. His mouth is so dry his tongue is sticking to his gums. He whimpers out loudly as he tries to roll over on his back, accidentally waking up Namjoon who looks at him with panicked and tired eyes.
“Sorry,” Yoongi whispers, finding out that his voice is almost completely gone and that his throat burns a lot. He doesn’t even wanna know how his body looks like, he is sure his thighs are bitten raw and his ass feels like it is on fire.
“It’s okay, here,” Namjoon pulls water bottle from the nightstand on his side, Yoongi gladly drinking almost all of it. He hiccups afterwards softly and Namjoon smiles.
Yoongi is dressed in his sweatshirt and his hair is sticking out to sides and he looks… soft. He looks lovely.
“Can we talk about it, maybe?” Yoongi whispers and it’s small and careful and he looks like Bambi, with his wide eyes and childlike softness in his cheeks.
“Of course, in the morning we can,” Namjoon nods and kisses Yoongi’s forehead.
When Namjoon feels himself slipping into sweet sleep, he feels Yoongi tugging his head under his arm and shuffling closer to him until he is practically lying all over him, legs tangled and hands clutching at his shirt.
Namjoon doesn’t loathe him so much anymore.
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