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Yoongi is on hour seven of what he expects to be a twelve-hour productivity surge. His executive function has finally come home to roost, setting up shop in his brain and making his fingers fly like an air traffic controller. He’s written 14 melodies, fleshed out three complete songs, and downed five energy drinks. If he could measure the vibrations in his fingers, they might actually chart on the Richter scale. It’s perfect.

His doorbell has also been ringing for the past two minutes. He can hear it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to answer it. No, he has shit to do. He’s on a fucking roll and literally nothing can stop him, Holly could piss on the floor and he would let him finish if it meant that he wouldn’t have to get up. He’s not stopping until the building comes down.

That’s what he tells himself at hour seven. But by hour nine, he has to piss. And once he takes a piss, he has to feed Holly. Once he feeds Holly, he has to stretch his back out. Yoongi once did a Naver search for how easy it is to apply a catheter at home and deleted his history right after.

...It’s not easy.

He gets up, with some effort, and stretches his arms above his head. Holy fuck, he smells bad, like sweat and some kind of... cheese? What did he eat for dinner? Did he eat dinner? His fingers are sore at the ends from trying to figure out how to play a melody on the guitar around hour four. His hair is so greasy he can see his scalp.

He’s spooning some kibble into a bowl for Holly when the doorbell rings again.

“What the fuck,” Yoongi mutters. No one ever comes to his door. Seokjin has the door code and he’s the only one who ever comes over, besides Jungkook from the dumpling place down the street, who might as well know the code too.

Yoongi decides to opens the door out of curiosity at who he could possibly be being mistaken for at– he checks his clock– 10 a.m. Huh. He must have worked through the night. The sun streaming through his windows makes sense now.

“What,” he says, swinging the door open. On the other side is a man so hot that Yoongi can feel it coming off him in waves. He’s wearing a stupid outfit, which only makes him hotter to Yoongi somehow, like he’s already ready to just excuse this guy for whatever dumb fashion choices he made this morning just to seduce him. His skin is tan, smooth, looks soft. He’s got– it’s a very good face, Yoongi thinks. Symmetrical. Plump. Worth poking.

“Hey, sorry, I’m just coming around to apologize for making so much noise last night,” Hot Guy says. “Someone left a note on my door telling me I kept them up all night and I don’t know who it was, so I’ve just been going around to everyone on this floor.”

Yoongi frowns. “It wasn’t me,” he says. “I was definitely wearing headphones.”

“Oh!” the hot guy– no, Yoongi’s neighbor, Yoongi’s hot neighbor says. “Well, I made some cookies as an apology, anyway. I can’t cook for shit but if you want one... you can have one.” He finishes the meandering sentence with a smile that almost knocks Yoongi off his feet. He has dimples. Yoongi hates dimples.

Yoongi hates dimples because they make him worry about the health of his heart, how it beats so fast that his chest feels thin and close to ripping, like a saran-wrapped puddle of milk or an overfilled water balloon. He hates it.

He takes a cookie. They’re bad, chalky and so dry he almost coughs, but saves it for after his very hot, very neighborly neighbor gets off his doorstep. “Iths gud,” he says through the crumbs. He must look like absolute trash right now, judging off how he smells, but the guy looks at him with an amused little smile.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” he says with a laugh. “You can tell me they’re bad and I won’t be mad.”

Yoongi swallows with the loudest, scratchiest gulp his throat has ever emitted. “I’m a very good liar, so don’t worry about that.”

The guy laughs, a little baby cackle. “I’m Kim Namjoon,” he says, and holds his hand out. “Your neighbor, I guess.”

Yoongi looks at his hand. Is he... supposed to touch the hot guy? With his grimy hand?

Before he can contemplate asking him to wait a second while he washes his hands, Kim Namjoon draws back his arm slowly.

“Sorry,” Yoongi says in response. “Sorry, my hands are fucking gross right now.”

“Oh, no problem,” Kim Namjoon says. “I’ll see you around, neighbor!” He has a different smile now, closed mouth with a side of deep dimple. It’s cute and bashful.

God, Yoongi wishes Namjoon could see him at his prime, wearing a clean shirt and clean pants with clean hair. One of these days, he’ll do his laundry and take a shower. Soon.

He thinks that maybe, if Namjoon had come to his door on a good day, on a day where he’s slept and experienced the passage of time like a neurotypical human being, maybe he could have invited Namjoon in, let him play with Holly while he made them each a cup of coffee and got to know him. Maybe Namjoon would have laughed at Yoongi’s jokes. Maybe they would have kissed on his countertop, coffee forgotten at Yoongi’s side as Namjoon kissed him deeply. If Yoongi had just taken a fucking shower and done laundry, maybe Namjoon would have fucked him in a bed with clean sheets and sunlight streaming in through his window.

Well. At least he can take a shower now.

It’s a good feeling, the water on his body. It’s a feeling he forgot he could have. In fact, he forgot pretty much every feeling besides the plush of his desk chair on his ass and the ache in his lower back from his shitty posture and the weight of headphones on his ears.

He’s feeling feelings this morning he forgot he could have, like the feeling of surprise that he hasn’t jacked off in a few days. The feeling of imagining his hot neighbor fucking him against the window of his apartment, letting anyone who happened to glance twelve stories up see them. The feeling of his fingers inside himself. He forgot he could have those feelings.

Immediately after he comes, he doesn’t have time to feel guilty about jacking off to a stranger, because his productive moment is over. He’s tired, his muscles drooping like he just ran to Busan and back in full military gear. He’s in bed only for a second before he’s out like a light.

When he wakes up, it’s 4 p.m., Holly is licking his face, and he’s horny again.

It’s fucked up, Yoongi thinks. It’s fucked up that pissing and jacking off once isn’t enough to keep his mortal form from succumbing to nature yet again hours later.

It’s fucked up that the only notification Yoongi has on his phone is from Jack’d. He opens the app because he can, because he’s stubborn and horny and sleepy and curious.

He has a new match; someone hit “yes” on his shitty profile.

It’s Hot Namjoon.

“Fuuuuuuck,” Yoongi actually says out loud.

min_suga: dude

knj94: dude

min_suga: did we not just meet

knj94: we for sure just met

min_suga: lol

min_suga: well

min_suga: you know where to find me

Namjoon doesn’t reply after that, and Yoongi tries to pretend that doesn’t make him feel dumb. He looks around at his bedroom. There’s shit everywhere, papers and bottles and random trash on every surface. He couldn’t bring Namjoon back here even if he wanted to, couldn’t fuck Namjoon while making eye contact with a takeout bag from four days ago.

He cleans his room that day, out of spite for a guy who wasn’t interested. He cleans his room for the next person who might be.


It’s a few days later and Seokjin is over. Yoongi hesitates to say he was invited, but he’s in the apartment and Yoongi hasn’t kicked him out yet, which is as clear of an invitation as Seokjin usually gets. Yoongi’s working on something new while Seokjin plays a game on his phone on the couch. It’s why he doesn’t mind Seokjin coming over, that he’s just there to technically say he wasn’t alone for a few hours. They don’t really talk because why bother? They’re both happy.

Every few hours, Yoongi takes off his headphones and turns around at his desk to face Seokjin. Seokjin puts his phone on his chest and stares back at him. They make eye contact for several seconds. That’s their time, when designated, to have a conversation or decide to order food and let themselves be annoyed by Jungkook.

“What,” Seokjin says.

“I met someone.”

Seokjin sits up abruptly, phone sliding off his chest.

“When did you have the time? You’re collecting dust in here.”

“I dusted my ass off and met my neighbor.”

“Oh?” Seokjin quirks an eyebrow. “You know that never ends well. You fuck once and then you run into each other until one of you finally gives up and moves. Are you looking for a new apartment, Yoongi-yah? I can set you up, I have a friend with a rat infestation who’s looking for a cat.”

Yoongi pointedly snaps one side of his headphones back over his ear. “That’s one strike. Say some shit like that again and I’m putting the other one on.”

“What kind of strike system is this? It’s always three strikes, what’s the fucking deal?” Seokjin whines.

“Third strike and you’re out,” Yoongi says, and motions towards his door. “Can I tell you about my neighbor now?”

“I dunno, can you?”

“Oh, fuck off. Anyway, he comes to my door and I look like a cockroach. Just pure grime. A human centipede.”

“Yah,” Seokjin says. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. Have you seen that movie? Do you know what it’s about?”


“They’re sewn together by the asshole.”

“Noted.” Yoongi leans over in his spinny chair and gets eye level with Seokjin. “So... as I was saying, he comes to my door while I’m in the middle of a productive morning to apologize for how loud he was last night. I mean, I didn’t hear him, but still. And he brings me these dry-ass cookies and tells me he’s a terrible cook.”

“But you ate them anyway? After he told you that?”

“Yes,” Yoongi says, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair.

“Was he hot? He must have been hot.”

“Unbelievably hot, yeah. Legs as long as my whole body, maybe.” He leans forward again. “So there I am, dry cookie in my fucking throat, smelling like a hospital blanket, and this guy has the audacity to go home, see me on Jack’d, and hit yes on my profile.”

Seokjin shoots forward and grips Yoongi’s knees, pulling their bodies together until their faces are almost touching. Yoongi is only slightly put out that he still can’t see Seokjin’s pores from this close. “What,” he growls. “He did what?”

“Yup. Like within two hours of seeing me.”

“So he’s into you?”

“You’d think, right? I sent him a message and we talked for a second... but then he stopped responding.”

“Well,” Seokjin motions for Yoongi’s phone, “Lemme see what you said. C’mon.”

“Okay, but don’t open any of the other messages or scroll or anything,” Yoongi says.

“You sending pussy pics?”

“Oh, fuck you.”

Seokjin frowns down at Yoongi’s phone. “Well, here’s your problem. You didn’t imply you’re interested.”

“I literally could not have been more obvious.”

“Your definition of flirting is saying ‘wow’ when someone tells you something, touching their elbow, and then talking about how they didn’t pick up on your cues for the next couple weeks. I get laid regularly, so let me help you, please. I need the good karma.”


“Okay, I’m gonna use something that always works for me.”

Seokjin types furiously, and then taps the screen with a finality that makes Yoongi’s blood run cold. He leans back on the couch, breathing heavily, like he just ran a mile. “The net is cast. Now...” he says. “We wait.” He tosses the phone to Yoongi.

min_suga: wait

min_suga: you forgot to fuck me :(

“Hyung,” Yoongi growls, “Hyung, what is this?”

“It’s my best card. My ace.”

“It’s... so bad. Like, so bad.”

“That line has gotten me fucked at least twice,” Seokjin says.

“Are you sure it wasn’t your intense fuck-me aura?”

“That brought me to the 90 yard line, and this is what got me to the end zone.”

“You’re too gay to know that much about football,” Yoongi jabs. Seokjin gapes, gripping his chest like he’s about to have a heart attack.

“I’m exactly gay enough to know this much about football. That’s all I know!”

“Do we even have a football team?”

“I think so?” Seokjin picks up his phone from where it fell on the floor. “Lemme check. I haven’t heard of it so I doubt it but...”

Seokjin is annoying enough to use text-to-speech to look up everything, even when Naver clearly doesn’t understand what he’s saying.

“FOOTBALL KOREA,” he keeps shouting at his phone. “FOOTBALL– AMERICAN FOOTBALL KOREA– See, here,” he finally finds it and turns his phone towards Yoongi.

That’s when Yoongi’s phone chimes, the distinctive ding of a Jack’d notification.

knj94: uh

knj94: was this message meant for me

“You stupid motherfucker,” Yoongi hisses and turns the phone around for Seokjin to see.

“This is perfect! This means he’s insecure. You have to invite him over, like right now.”

“Oh my god, right now?” Yoongi asks sarcastically.

Seokjin grabs Yoongi’s phone, taps it with intensity, and turns it back around so Yoongi can see. It’s Namjoon’s profile picture. He looks long, tall as fuck, and he’s dressed like a father of five. “Now,” Seokjin says.

Yoongi groans, head in his hands, as Seokjin starts to gather his stuff. “What should I say back?”

Seokjin shrugs from the doorway to Yoongi’s apartment. “If he’s into you, it doesn’t really matter what you say.”

min_suga: sorry that was my friend

min_suga: haha

min_suga: he thinks dumb things like that will get me laid

knj94: no! it wasn’t dumb

knj94: you don’t have to apologize

min_suga: i am absolutely 100% going to apologize for that and you can’t stop me

knj94: then I should probably apologize for the cookies

min_suga: yeah

min_suga: haha

min_suga: honestly that was fucked up

knj94: im not bad at everything

knj94: i promise

min_suga: oh yeah?

knj94: im not bad at many things

min_suga: name one

knj94: okay

knj94: i can touch my tongue to my elbow

knj94: and read 500 wpm

min_suga: that’s child’s play

min_suga: i don’t have a gag reflex

knj94: oh

knj94: okay yeah

knj94: you made your point

min_suga: oh i didn’t though

min_suga: ...............not yet

knj94: fuck

knj94: i’m not home

min_suga: who said anything about you coming over?

min_suga: that’s so presumptuous

knj94: oh my god

knj94: you’re right i’m sorry

min_suga: if you were home would you even fuck me

knj94: i

knj94: yeah?

knj94: if you want

min_suga: hm

min_suga: well

min_suga: maybe when you’re home then

min_suga: we could find out

knj94: we could

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say after that, so he stops replying. There's really nothing else to be said. If his neighbor is into him, he can message him again when he gets home.

Except he doesn't.

Yoongi knows he doesn't because Yoongi is in the kitchen when he hears the door across the hall unlock, when he hears Namjoon stumble into his apartment. When his phone doesn't buzz at all that night.

He's just tired, Yoongi thinks. People don't want to fuck all the time. When he's ready, he'll send a message.

Except he doesn't.

Yoongi waits a few days, gives up, gets his hopes up again, and then gives up again. By this point he can't even say he's been jerked around since he never really got jerked at all to begin with.

And that's that. They'll never fuck, and that's fine. Yoongi has come to terms with it, accepted his fate. He just wishes there was a way to know when Namjoon was leaving the apartment so he could avoid him.

One night, after ordering enough dumplings to last him two days, Yoongi had to physically pull Jungkook into his apartment because as soon as he opened the door to collect his order, he heard the telltale signs of Namjoon about to open his door across the hall.

"You know," Jungkook says, pressed up against Yoongi's kitchen counter like a skittish cat, "You're a lot stronger than you look."


"So," Jungkook starts, putting the dumplings on the counter, "You wanna talk about it?"


"Fair enough."

Yoongi gives him a 30 percent tip and ushers him out the door with the urgency of a secret agent.

"You tell no one about this," he hisses. Jungkook salutes him and gets in the elevator.

That night, Yoongi decides to stop working on something he hates, which is about as much self-control as he’s ever exhibited when working on a project. Instead, he decides that maybe, in the middle of this weird rut he’s in, he deserves a night doing whatever he wants.

He turns on Tazza because he’s seen it a hundred times and he can see it another hundred times. He heats up some of the dumplings Jungkook dropped off earlier and curls up on the couch with Holly and intentionally, deliberately enjoys his evening.

He wakes up to his phone buzzing on his chest.

knj94: so

knj94: i am... well aware that this is late but

knj94: u up?

Yoongi groans. He’s covered in dog hair, dumpling sauce and a thin layer of grime. His apartment is cluttered, not messy, but definitely not clean.

min_suga: motherfucker

knj94: i know i know

min_suga: you ghost me for two weeks but now you wanna bang

knj94: ...

knj94: does it help if i say i don’t do this very often but

min_suga: no

knj94: well i don’t do this very often, but

min_suga: ...............................................

min_suga: yeah okay you can come over

min_suga: gimme 20 minutes

knj94: no problem! thank you so much!

min_suga: don’t thank me for deciding to have sex with you

min_suga: jesus

min_suga: this is a mutual decision

min_suga: im changing my door code tomorrow but tonight it’s 4321 if i don’t answer im still in shower

knj94: 4321??? lmfao

min_suga: Do You Want To Have Sex With Me Or Not

knj94: ya i’ll come in 20

min_suga: wait you read my profile right

knj94: yeah i can read

knj94: ik ur trans

min_suga: mmm literacy gets me off

min_suga: ignore that

min_suga: come over

Yoongi takes his fastest shower ever, trying to be as thorough as possible. When he gets out into his bedroom, the first thing he sees are at least five pairs of socks rumpled up in the gap between the end of his mattress and the bedframe. He snakes them out, tossing them under the bed haphazardly.

His doorbell rings.

In some strange callback to how they first met weeks ago, Yoongi shuffles to the door, hair still wet and wearing sweatpants. He imagines Namjoon standing on the other side wearing nothing but a tank top that shows off his muscles and the tightest, shiniest leather briefs.

He opens the door to find Namjoon, as disheveled as Yoongi’s apartment, wearing pajama pants with a triangular grease stain on the thigh and a blue Korea Children’s Choir t-shirt that looks like it was used as a kitty carrier lining for several years before being sold for an exorbitant amount of money at a vintage shop.

“Hey,” Namjoon says, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. His hair is kinda greasy, falling into his eyes and sticking out in the back like he slept weird. He’s not even wearing shoes, just socks with what look like the radish spirit from Spirited Away on them.

“Oh, fuck me,” Yoongi exhales.

Namjoon smiles at him. It’s a big, awkward smile. He says, “That’s the plan, right?”

Yoongi opens the door wider, as if to indicate that Namjoon should come inside. Namjoon stays on the landing, just staring at Yoongi.

“Is there something... on my face?” Yoongi asks. He knows there’s not; he just showered.

“No, just– just like looking at you, I guess,” Namjoon says, and Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“Get in, then.”

Yoongi walks into the kitchen without looking back at Namjoon. The clock on his stove says it’s 1:48 a.m.

“You want some water?” Yoongi asks, without turning around.

“Yeah,” Namjoon breathes, and the hot air from his mouth pools on the back on Yoongi’s neck. He whips around. Namjoon is far too close to him, less than a foot, hovering directly behind him.

Yoongi stumbles, tripping over the hem of his pants in the process, and ends up on the floor in front of his kitchen counter in a heap.

“Jesus, dude, what the fuck?” Yoongi says, looking up at Namjoon in shock.

“Oh my god,” Namjoon says, looking panicked. “I’m so sorry, I was trying to be sexy–”

“It didn’t fucking work, dude,” Yoongi says. His ass is sore now, and not in a good way.

“I– I know, I’m so sorry,” Namjoon says, and he sinks to his haunches in front of Yoongi. They’re both just on his kitchen floor, eye to eye. “I’ve just had a really weird day, and I just need–”

Namjoon looks almost disgustingly vulnerable, crouching in front of Yoongi like he’s a cornered wild animal. It makes him want to prove Namjoon right, just jump on him and devour him.

“I’m gonna kiss you now,” Yoongi mumbles.

“Wow, those are some crazy mixed signals,” Namjoon whispers as Yoongi leans in.

The first press of their lips is dry, soft. They’re only touching their lips together, and Yoongi realizes that that’s actually the first time they’ve ever touched, period.

Then Namjoon opens his mouth and deepens the kiss and something hot and electric fizzes its way up Yoongi’s back, playing off the knobs in his spine like a pinball. Namjoon is... good with his tongue, letting it linger in the gaps between his kisses and he’s still not touching Yoongi anywhere else, content to squat on the linoleum and just lick deeper into Yoongi’s mouth with every groan that leaves their lips and it’s honestly a little infuriating that Namjoon has such big hands and is so tall but won’t grab Yoongi and like, throw him somewhere.

Yoongi breaks the kiss with difficulty, dragging his face away from Namjoon with a heaving chest.

“You wanna...” Yoongi says, jerking his head towards his room.

“Oh,” Namjoon says. He looks flushed now too, in addition to disheveled. “Yeah.”

Yoongi grabs his hand and leads him to the bed. It’s the first time they’ve touched anywhere else. Namjoon’s hand is warm. He has callouses on his fingertips and his fingers are long and thin. Piano fingers, Yoongi’s mother called them.

“Piano fingers,” Yoongi says, sitting on his bed and shaking where their hands are joined. Namjoon slides next to him on the bed, sprawled out sideways showing off the curve of his waist.

“Yeah, I do play piano,” Namjoon says. “Actually though, I noticed you have an Akai keyboard out there. Do you make beats?”

Yoongi grimaces, uncomfortable with the idea that Namjoon will know something about him after this interaction besides the look on his face when he comes. “I– yeah, I do. I produce for a couple artists, actually.”

“Would I know any of them?” Namjoon asks. He looks earnest and interested and other positive adjectives that do nothing but make Yoongi want to kiss him again.

“Hm,” Yoongi says, and he hooks a leg over Namjoon’s hips, turning him onto his back on the bed. Namjoon’s hands reflexively come up to grip Yoongi’s hips, warm and a little too tight. Yoongi leans in, caging Namjoon and breathing hot into his neck. He can feel Namjoon shifting underneath him, and it’s with a completely serious voice that he whispers, “Heize.”

Namjoon gasps, but his hips don’t kick up, and Yoongi is almost disappointed that he didn’t get him with that one. He trails his lips down Namjoon’s neck, feeling him swallow underneath his touch. Yoongi brings his mouth up to Namjoon’s ear and traces the shell with his tongue. “Epik High.”

Namjoon pushes Yoongi off him.

“No fucking way,” he says, half a yell.

“Yup,” Yoongi says, sprawled out on the mattress in front of him. He smirks up at Namjoon.

“That’s so fucking cool,” Namjoon growls, and then it’s him on top of Yoongi, biting a line down his neck. Yoongi grunts as Namjoon’s teeth graze his neck before latching onto a pressure point behind the jut of his jaw, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

Yoongi threads his hands into Namjoon’s greasy hair and wrenches his face up to his, catching his lips in a feverish kiss. Namjoon feels so much bigger than him, almost overwhelming and Yoongi just loses himself in the sensation of feeling small and wanted.

He grapples around blindly with one hand, still kissing Namjoon, and when his fingers find the hardness of Namjoon’s cock, he just. Laughs. Namjoon pulls back.

“Sorry, just, wow,” Yoongi chokes out.

“What?” Namjoon asks, looking scared.

“I’m... there’s no way that’s going inside me,” Yoongi says. From what he can feel, Namjoon’s cock is proportional to his stupidly long body but still just absolutely unreasonable, as far as appendages go.

“Why?” Namjoon asks.

“It’s one thing to know that you will forever be the neighbor I fucked and I’ll have to see you in the hallway and live with that,” Yoongi says. “It’s another thing for you to forever be the neighbor I fucked who ripped me in half. No. I refuse.”

“I mean,” Namjoon says. He leans up on his knees, in between Yoongi’s legs. “That’s fine. I just thought you wanted to get fucked.”

“Yeah, fucked, not impaled.”

“See, most people would appreciate this,” Namjoon says. “That I’m respecting your boundaries.”

“Sorry, is my cock-worship a little rusty?” Yoongi asks.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and says, “Listen, I don’t need to fuck you. We can just give each other head, I can finger you, I don’t care. Or I can just go home.”

“No! No, don’t go home,” Yoongi says. “That would be a waste of an awkward interaction. We may as well just get off, y’know?”

“Why do you keep saying it’s gonna be awkward?”


“Don’t you think that the only thing that would make it awkward is you believing it’s gonna be awkward?” Namjoon says. “I think it’s cool if we fuck, you know? Like, convenient.”

“That’s so romantic,” Yoongi says.

“Yeah, you know, I really am looking for the love of my life on Jack’d,” Namjoon says with a laugh.

“Fair enough,” Yoongi says. He pulls back in for another kiss, licking wet into Namjoon’s mouth. Namjoon takes one of his hands and splays it on the back of Yoongi’s neck, dominant and overwhelming in a subtle way that makes Yoongi shudder beneath him. He scratches his nails against Namjoon’s scalp, even though he knows Namjoon’s hair is a greasy mess right now.

“Take your shirt off,” Yoongi rasps out.

Namjoon rips off his shirt and Yoongi, embarrassingly, whines at the sight of his chest. Namjoon looks strong, despite his noodle-y exterior. His skin is naturally tan and there’s a little mole on his right pec that Yoongi wants to bite.

He drags his nails over the skin of Namjoon’s chest, watching the skin there pebble like Namjoon has chills. He looks up and sees Namjoon staring down at him, looking like he just got punched in the gut.

“Wow, goosebumps,” Yoongi teases, and he pinches one of Namjoon’s nipples. Namjoon yelps. “Oh, sorry, baby,” Yoongi murmurs.

Suddenly Namjoon is on top of him, pushing the hem of his shirt up and sucking kisses onto his stomach, leaving wet little sore spots every time he pulls up. His hands are so big they span Yoongi’s entire stomach, making Yoongi feel dazed and surrounded. He’s so wet that he can feel it in between his thighs.

“You showered, right?” Namjoon says, and it comes out all breathy and desperate.

“Y-yeah,” Yoongi stutters. He thinks of how grubby he looked last time.

“Cool. Wanna eat you out,” Namjoon says.

”God, yeah.”

Yoongi can hear himself panting, which is embarrassing, because Namjoon hasn’t even really touched him yet, and then Namjoon is peeling off his pants and his underwear and the cold air hits his skin and somehow that makes him even wetter, feeling so exposed. He arches his back, ripping off his shirt.

Namjoon leans down, crouching in between Yoongi’s legs. His hot breaths spill over Yoongi. Namjoon hooks his arms around Yoongi’s thighs, pulls him closer and finally, slowly licks a thick stripe up, teasing. The feeling punches a grunt out of somewhere deep in Yoongi’s chest, and when Namjoon licks over his clit again, a third time, Yoongi’s elbows give out until he’s just laid out flat. Namjoon’s tongue moves in slow circles.

God,” Namjoon moans, and Yoongi can feel the vibrations. “You taste fuckin’ good, Jesus, hyung.”

Yoongi whines again. “Didn’t– fuck, ah, I didn’t say you could call me hyung.”

Namjoon pulls his mouth off Yoongi and replaces it with a long finger. It circles around his entrance and then pushes in slowly, slow enough that Yoongi deliriously thinks he can feel the ridges of Namjoon’s knuckles as they sink inside him. His toes curl and a little whine drops from his parted mouth.

“You like that?” Namjoon asks, twisting his finger inside Yoongi.

“Like what?” Yoongi says, chest heaving, “You’re barely doing anything.”

“Hm.” Namjoon pulls his finger out of Yoongi, and Yoongi’s hips follow them, aching to have something inside him.

“No, no please, don’t stop, fuck,” he whines. He can feel himself losing it in the heat and the anticipation, can feel his sense of shame and self-preservation just slough off him because there’s a beautiful boy in his bed and Yoongi needs to come. He needs to.

“Okay,” Namjoon says with a little chuckle. He closes his mouth back over Yoongi’s clit and sucks, at the same time pushing two fingers inside him, stroking upwards and stoking a fire in Yoongi’s stomach.

He keeps up the pace, setting up a rhythm that feels almost familiar to Yoongi, pushing and pulling him closer and closer to the edge. Yoongi’s thighs start to shake on either side of Namjoon’s head, his breaths coming out in little jerky gasps as Namjoon works his jaw over him.

“Like that,” Yoongi says, one hand gripping tightly into Namjoon’s hair and the other fisting the sheets. His hips start to buck with each stroke of Namjoon’s fingers, but then Namjoon takes his other hand and presses it down on Yoongi’s belly, holding him in place so he can’t move, can’t writhe like he needs to, just has to lie there and take what Namjoon is giving him until it’s too much and Yoongi, just on the edge of oversensitive, tumbles into his orgasm with a huge, watery exhale. His feet scrabble in the sheets as Namjoon continues to suck him, though he’s clenched around Namjoon’s fingers so tight that he’s not sure Namjoon could move them easily.

It becomes almost too much, the feeling of Namjoon’s mouth on him, starting to become sharp rather than shallow, and his breaths dissolve into little whimpers.

“Off, off,” Yoongi whines, his chest heaving. He takes the hand in Namjoon’s hair and uses it to drag Namjoon up his body, connecting their mouths together for a sloppy, desperate kiss. He can taste himself on Namjoon, something he used to hate but now finds is this dirty, terribly hot thing.

He drags Namjoon’s face away from his, looks into Namjoon’s eyes, which are half-lidded and dark.

“Lie down,” Yoongi whispers.

Namjoon complies immediately, flopping over so he’s on his back, but he looks up at Yoongi hovering over him with a questioning expression and says, “Why?”

“I wanna ride you,” Yoongi says, reaching down to palm Namjoon through his pants again. Really, it’s just unrealistic to put this inside him, Yoongi thinks. A level of insanity he hasn’t reached in a while.

But now there’s this tight thrumming in his stomach that’s urging him forward, urging him to get his hands on Namjoon. He reaches towards his nightstand and pulls out lube and a condom.

“Oh?” Namjoon says. “Did I convince you?”

“Regardless of the words that have come out of your mouth recently and the unfortunate size of your penis, I still want to be railed.”

“My unfortunate penis thanks you for your generosity,” Namjoon says, and then he yelps as Yoongi slides his hands into his pants and circles them around his cock. “You have cold hands.”

“Best in the ‘biz,” Yoongi says, tugging Namjoon’s pants down and off. Eye to eye with Namjoon’s cock, Yoongi is less afraid of ending up in the hospital. Instead, he feels like his skin is too small, like he’s shrinkwrapped and he can’t move fast enough to throw the condom at Namjoon.

“Okay, cowboy,” Namjoon chuckles as he rolls the condom onto his cock. Yoongi drizzles some of the lube over the head and Namjoon whines. “It’s cold.”

Yoongi smirks at him as he swings one leg over his hips. He grinds down on Namjoon, earning him a view of his long neck as he tosses his head back with a grunt. Yoongi does it again, teasing Namjoon with his hands on his chest, rolling his hips but never letting Namjoon inside him.

“Just to let you know,” Yoongi says as Namjoon starts to pant underneath him, “I never come like this. That’s not a challenge.”

Namjoon nods, biting his lip. He grips onto Yoongi’s hips as they roll over him, fingers twitching.

“Thanks,” he says, and then lets loose another groan.

“What are you thanking me for?” Yoongi asks, rutting his hips shallowly. Namjoon’s eyes screw shut.

“For– for letting me fuck you.”

“Hm,” Yoongi says, and he stills his hips to line Namjoon’s cock up with his hole. “I guess I am pretty generous.”

He starts to sink down then, and the feeling is nearly overwhelming. Yoongi screws his eyes shut, focused on just getting Namjoon completely inside him. Even though he’s already come once, the stretch is immense, filling Yoongi up and touching every part of him.

Namjoon swears, still panting. His fingers squeeze Yoongi’s hips tighter, almost too tight, as Yoongi sinks down. He has to be almost done, Yoongi thinks deliriously as he lowers his hips slowly. He looks down. There’s still about a third of Namjoon’s cock that has yet to fill him up.

Yoongi whines, taking Namjoon further. His whole body burns, and he feels tacky with sweat and spit and lube.

When Yoongi bottoms out, they groan in tandem.

“Fuck,” Yoongi chokes out. “I think I’m dead.”

Namjoon makes a noise that sounds like a laugh, but it’s quite horrible and Yoongi looks down, expecting to find Namjoon choking or something, but really, he just looks like he’s trying so hard not to move that it’s turning his face red. Yoongi can feel his hips twitching, like he wants to fuck up into Yoongi but he’s also trying to be polite and let Yoongi take his time.

Hm. Yoongi never expected courtesy to turn him on that much.

He starts to roll his hips again, but this time the fullness feels intensely overwhelming, and with each roll of Yoongi’s hips he feels like the breath is being punched out of his chest. He knows the feeling won’t ever make him come, but the overwhelming sensation of being filled up does something else to him, turns off parts of his brain like he’s in overdrive, some instinctual need taking over as he moves a little faster.

Underneath him, Namjoon is whimpering a little, bottom lip still stuck in his teeth. “You’re– wow, fuck,” he grunts, raking his eyes over Yoongi’s body. “I’m so– wow, fuck, fuck, this is– you’re doing so good, fuck.”

Yoongi frowns. “You good?” he asks.

Namjoon nods quickly, almost desperate. “Just haven’t– fuck, haven’t fucked– fuck, haven’t fucked pussy since college. ‘S’wet,” he whines.

“You’re a mess,” Yoongi says, brushing one of his thumbs over Namjoon’s nipples again just to see him shudder. “If I let you fuck me hard, will you do a good job?” he asks, putting his arms on either side of Namjoon’s head and rolling his hips sticky and slow, feeling every inch of Namjoon inside him.

Namjoon nods again, eyes wild. Yoongi leans back up, and instead of grinding on Namjoon’s cock starts to bounce a little. The effect is immediate, Namjoon’s hips bucking up to meet him, pushing Yoongi’s hips down every time he thrusts up. It punches a groan out of Yoongi, and he can feel himself going limp as Namjoon’s thrusts get harder, as he bends his knees and fucks up into Yoongi in earnest.

Yoongi can feel his eyes roll into the back of his head, can feel a drop of sweat run off his forehead and down his nose as Namjoon lets loose these little whines. They’re both panting heavy, chests almost touching. Namjoon takes one huge hand and brings it to Yoongi’s ass, spreading him as he fucks up into him. Yoongi groans, feeling stretched in every direction.

“Is there any way,” Namjoon huffs out, “I can make you come?”

Yoongi moans. It’s good, it really is, but it’s not enough. He shakes his head no, and then Namjoon rolls him over so he’s on his back and Namjoon has him caged in. He starts snapping his hips up, and Yoongi can feel chills down his back again. Namjoon takes one hand off his hips and starts to rub his thumb against Yoongi’s clit.

“Better,” Yoongi hisses, looking up at Namjoon through his wet eyelashes. Namjoon’s thrusts slow down, lengthen out, until he’s pulling out of Yoongi all the way and then slamming back in. At the same time, he rubs harder, sending sparks up and down Yoongi’s body as he grinds into him.

“You really–” Yoongi huffs out– “You really want me to come first, huh?”

“Wanna feel you come around me,” Namjoon replies, and Yoongi moans, tipping his head back.

“Okay,” he mumbles, “Make me come. You can do it. Just please fuck me harder.”

Namjoon tries, bucking his hips back into Yoongi hard, rubbing his thumb over Yoongi’s clit until Yoongi is right there, chest heaving and hands pulling hard in the sheets and he’s so close, so fucking close, but it’s still just not enough.

“Choke me,” Yoongi says. Namjoon’s eyes widen as he fucks into him.

“Yeah?” he says.

“Please, do it,” Yoongi grunts, and he bares his neck to Namjoon.

Namjoon wraps his other hand around Yoongi’s neck. His fingers are so long they almost make it to the nape of Yoongi’s neck and he groans, sucking in a deep breath and holding it as Namjoon starts to squeeze lightly.

Yoongi’s vision goes gray, losing himself a little bit in how overwhelming it feels, how powerless he is to Namjoon in that moment, Namjoon who only wants to feel Yoongi come around him, and he exhales. Inhales again.

It’s like everything in his brain shuts off as he comes, finally, his whole body seizing up and his back arching, and from far off he can hear Namjoon moan, loud, as Yoongi feels his muscles tighten. Namjoon lets go of Yoongi’s throat and the rush of blood to his head makes him whine.

His body jerks and shakes, still coming down as Namjoon continues to pound into him, sweat dripping off his face and onto his chest, gleaming in the low light of the room. Namjoon leans down to bury his face in Yoongi’s neck and whines, hands coming up to stroke Yoongi’s sides as, with a final groan, he comes inside Yoongi. His hands catch on the edges of Yoongi’s scars, still tender, and Yoongi jumps in his arms.

“Ah, sorry,” Namjoon says, still breathing heavily. “I’m kinda crushing you.”

He rolls off Yoongi, pulling out and holy fuck, was he really that big? Did Yoongi really have that inside him?

Namjoon busies himself tying off the condom.

“You fuck good for a nerd,” Yoongi says lazily. Namjoon laughs.

“Yeah, you too,” he says with a dimple-heavy smile.

“How do you eat pussy that good if you’re on Jack’d?” Yoongi asks. He rolls over so he’s lying on his stomach. His whole body feels sore and damp, but in the best way possible.

“That’s bisexual erasure,” Namjoon replies, scoffing with mock offense. “Can we take a shower or something? I’m disgusting.”

Yoongi grimaces. “My shower is gross, can we go to your place?”

The two of them put on whatever amalgamation of clothing they can find on the bedroom floor. Yoongi ends up in Namjoon’s t-shirt and boxers, and Namjoon is wearing Yoongi’s sweatpants even though they’re way too small on him. They sneak out the door of Yoongi’s apartment, giggling and checking around corners like they’re on a mission, until they reach the door to Namjoon’s apartment.

“It’s a little messy,” Namjoon says, keying in the code.

They step inside. It’s fucking disgusting.

Yoongi starts to laugh.

“Hey! I warned you!” Namjoon whines.

“It’s just, oh my god, I was so worried when you met me you would judge me for how nasty I looked,” Yoongi says, continuing to laugh. “But holy fuck, dude, have you cleaned since you moved in?”

Namjoon pouts. He leads them to the bathroom. “I didn’t mention the six empty cans of energy drink on your bedside table, either, because I thought we were being nice.”

Yoongi laughs harder, pulling off his mismatched clothes. “Okay, I can be nice. I can be nice. Is your shower any better? Is it only clean ‘cause you don’t use it?”

Namjoon scowls. “The energy you’re creating right now is definitely not going to earn you a round two in the shower, hyung.”

“There you go calling me hyung again,” Yoongi says, still smiling. Namjoon starts the shower. “I wasn’t aware a round two was on the table. Honestly, I don’t know if I have it in me. You really do have an inconceivably large penis.”

“You make it sound so sexy,” Namjoon says, stripping Yoongi’s pants off and holding his own cock limply in his hand.

“It’s definitely something that was inside me,” Yoongi says, “So in that way, it is sexy. Sexy cause we had sex.”

“Yeah, and now we’re never going to do it again, if you don’t stop dick-shaming me,” Namjoon says.

Yoongi hops in the shower. “Remember when I told you I don’t have a gag reflex?”

The speed in which Namjoon enters the shower is almost dangerous. He circles his arms around Yoongi under the spray of the water and grins down at him. “I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship,” he says.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, and then leans up on the tips of his toes to kiss the cocky smile off of Namjoon’s face.