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"Hurry up," Yoongi hisses, rolling his hips, pressing back onto three of Hoseok's fingers. "Come on, hurry the fuck up, Jesus, I'm not going to break."

"I'm trying not to hurt you, you asshole," Hoseok mutters against Yoongi's mouth. It's too hot in their dorm. Their asthmatic air conditioning is a weak substitute for the real thing and everyone else has retreated to the frozen sanctuary of the studio but this, this is a perfect opportunity and neither of them are going to give it up without a fight. Even if it means hands that are slick with sweat and knees slipping on the bedsheets and the tang of salt along the curves of Yoongi's collarbones.

"There's no one here," Yoongi grits out between his teeth. "We can be as loud as we want, the door is locked, and you have three fingers in my goddamn ass so just fuck me, will you?"

"You're cranky as shit when you're overheated," Hoseok murmurs, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the sheets. Everything feels damp; their skin, the lube coating Hoseok's hands and Yoongi's thighs, the chilled air drifting from their air conditioner in lazy fits and starts.

"If we're going to do this, I want to feel it," Yoongi growls, biting down on Hoseok's lip. "I want you to make me scream."

"Uh," Hoseok says, pausing as he strokes himself, adding more lube. He hisses softly, suddenly entranced for a moment by the slide of his own hand along his cock, by the slick warmth of his hand and the way it makes his spine shiver. "Good screaming, or bad screaming?"

Yoongi rolls his eyes. "Good screaming," he says, sounding throaty and raw. "Now just do it, okay?"

"So basically," Hoseok says, lining himself up and pressing Yoongi's knees closer to his chest, "You just want an excuse to piss off the neighbors again."

"You what will really piss me off? If you don't put your dick inside me right--now--oh, fuck," Yoongi swears, his hands suddenly tangled in Hoseok's hair. Hoseok gasps as he pushes farther in, inch by careful inch. Yoongi is pulling on his hair and it's a cheap, dirty trick. Yoongi knows what that does to Hoseok.

"You're--terrible--" Hoseok grits out, leaning back so he can add more lube, dribbling too much around Yoongi's hole, slipping two fingers in easily. Yoongi is slick and hot inside, but it had taken him months to ask for this. Months for him to stop being freaked out by the whole idea, to stop freaking out over the gayness out of it all, to just stop freaking out, period. Hoseok thinks Yoongi is probably still freaking out a little bit, but now it's in a good way. It's a get your dick into my goddamn ass way. Hoseok knows how that feels.

"Don't pull my hair just to get me to do what you want," Hoseok says, slipping his fingers out. "Didn't you ever learn how to say 'please'?"

"I said please like an hour ago," Yoongi says. "We're past that point." He sits up, kissing Hoseok roughly, sliding his tongue behind Hoseok's teeth even as he pulls him closer and lines up Hoseok's cock again. He presses his thumb over the slick head of Hoseok's cock, flicking his fingernail along the crease and making Hoseok gasp.

"Fine," Hoseok says, swallowing hard as he presses forward again. Being inside Yoongi is tight and overwhelming, and he's not sure he's going to last long enough to actually fuck Yoongi into the mattress. That might have to wait until the second round. "I will fuck you as hard as I possibly can. Once we're, like. Finished with this whole 'getting started' deal."

Yoongi smirks, sliding his hands down to Hoseok's hips. He smooths his hands over Hoseok's hipbones and then yanks him forwards, bearing down on Hoseok's cock at the same time. Hoseok chokes out a strangled moan, his heart pounding as he suddenly finds himself thrust deep inside.

Yoongi sighs, tilting his head back and letting his eyes fall shut. "Jesus," he mutters, his voice raw and strained. His chest is heaving. Hoseok can feel the way he's twitching, his body suddenly adjusting to new spaces and new sensations. He can feel Yoongi's heartbeat. "Finally."

"Is it okay?" Hoseok's palms slide on the sheets as he falls forward. "It isn't too much, is it?"

"No," Yoongi says, rolling his hips experimentally. Hoseok can feel Yoongi clenching around him and then he can feel the way his body is now relaxing, opening up to the new sensations. It's a familiar pattern. Tense, release. Hold. Push deeper.

Hoseok licks his lips and closes his eyes and tries not to come.

"Hobi," Yoongi groans, tugging him closer, his hand twisted in Hoseok's hair. "Come on. Just let go. Please."

Hoseok whimpers, shoving their mouths together in a messy, uneven kiss before pulling out almost all the way. He gives himself a moment to breathe--to think, to center himself, to figure out how this is going to work--and then he slams his hips forward as hard as he can.

It's worth it for the way Yoongi's whole body shivers. "Fuck," Yoongi gasps. "Again, do that again--"

"You said you wanted to scream," Hoseok mumbles. He ducks his head, using his arms and his stomach muscles for leverage as he slams his hips forward, over and over, pressing himself deep inside. His whole body is slick with sweat. The slide is fast and almost too easy.

Yoongi groans at the end of each thrust, rolling his hips to match the movement. Hoseok wonders if they're going to have matching bruises tomorrow, Hoseok's hipbones lining up with the pale underside of Yoongi's thighs.

Yoongi tugs his legs closer to his chest, spreading wide and pulling Hoseok closer, closer. Letting out hiccupy moans on every thrust, his voice raw and too abused. They've been tracking vocals all week and he's already hoarse; the sound of his voice now, cracking at the seams, is almost enough to push Hoseok over the edge.

Almost, but not enough. No one's screamed yet, and Hoseok does his best to keep his promises.

He stretches forward, close enough to taste the sweat dripping down the side of Yoongi's neck. Close enough to lick the taste of salt and milk from his skin. It's a familiar taste and a familiar smell and Hoseok presses his hips forward, as deep as he can go, and---

---stops.

"Oh my fucking god," Yoongi moans out, head still stretched to one side, hands pawing ineffectually at Hoseok's arms, trying to get him to move. "Fuck, why did you--why did you stop--"

"You wanted to scream," Hoseok says. He's out of breath. They're both disgusting, sweat dripping off of them, soaking the sheets, but there's something raw and real about this that Hoseok didn't know he needed. He pulls his hips back, pulling out slow and steady. A thick tease.

"No," Yoongi growls, "No, don't you fucking leave me like this, you--you--"

"Me, me," Hoseok repeats back at him senselessly. He leans down to kiss the venom out of Yoongi's mouth, to swallow the words whole. "Calm down. I'm just--" Hoseok reaches over, his fingers fumbling for purchase on their discarded bottle of lube. "I know you like it wet."

Yoongi squirms underneath him, his cheeks reddening even as he glares. "No," he says breathlessly. "No I don't. I mean. Whatever."

"You like it really, really wet," Hoseok whispers, kissing Yoongi's lips again, salty and lush. He presses two fingers inside, scissoring them and holding Yoongi open while he dribbles more lube into his ass. "Admit it."

"Shut up," Yoongi says weakly, letting out another loud moan when Hoseok pushes his fingers in all the way. He traces his fingers over Yoongi's prostate, enjoying the way it makes Yoongi flush and gasp.

"Don't worry," Hoseok promises, leaning back, away from Yoongi's too-welcoming mouth and dark eyes, away from all the distractions he could get lost in. "I'm not going to leave you like this." He rubs the head of his cock over Yoongi's hole, enjoying the slide and the obscene squelching noises.

Everything feels amazing. Everything feels transgressive.

Hoseok waits until Yoongi has drawn in a large breath before slamming his hips forward, a deep thrust that pushes him all the way in. To the root, to the base, as though they are part of something greater; something deep below the earth, old and ancient. As though they are suddenly more than just two guys fucking on a bed in the height of summer.

Or maybe I just have heatstroke, Hoseok thinks, as he closes his fist around Yoongi's cock. The slide is wet, again, wet and perfect, salty like the ocean, and Yoongi lets out a moan that ends somewhere far up the scale. Not quite a scream. Close.

"Come on," Hoseok urges him, pushing his hips faster and faster, working up to a rhythm that has them both gasping for breath. "Come on, baby--"

"Oh fuck," Yoongi howls---whines---something in between. Something that has Hoseok smiling even as his legs are tightening up and his own orgasm is suddenly looming. He wants--he wants to keep the rhythm, he wants to keep it, but then everything is lost and he finds himself thrusting jerky and uncoordinated, spilling into Yoongi with his own barely-contained groans.

Yoongi tightens around him, arching his back as much as he can, even with Hoseok's weight pressing into his legs. "It's---wet," he gasps out, "It's--ah--ah--" Hoseok's hand cramps, suddenly, and he lets Yoongi take over, aware that everything is hazy and Yoongi is so close that Hoseok can smell it in the air.

"Scream," Hoseok says softly, from inches away. From where he's trying to hold himself up and urge Yoongi on and not collapse with exhaustion. His lips brush the delicate shell of Yoongi's ear. "Scream, baby, come on---"

It works.

The noise that Yoongi makes is high and desperate, more like a sob than anything else, but it comes from somewhere deep inside that leaves Hoseok shivering with the weight of it. He kisses Yoongi's cheek and the side of his mouth, missing by an inch, the both of them messy and uncoordinated.

Yoongi's eyes are closed. His eyelids flutter when Hoseok finally gets up and peels them apart, frowning at the mess.

"Good job," Yoongi croaks, as Hoseok leans back on his heels and tries not to get a head rush. "Well done. Gold star."

"Asshole," Hoseok says fondly. Reality is messy, he thinks to himself, as he wipes them both down, as they stumble to the kitchen and drink greedily from the faucet, chins dripping with trails of water spilling out of their cupped hands. As they stumble on, forward, to the promise of a shower and cool water and each other.

Reality is home.