"Hyung," Yoongi begins, clearing his throat. "You have a spare room, right?"
Seokjin looks up from his phone, blinks a few times and then scowls.
"Oh no," he says. "We're not doing this."
"Doing what?" Yoongi fiddles with the stirrer for his coffee. He picks at a sugar packet and adds more, just so he has something to do with his hands. He's going for cool and casual - inconspicuous. But his hands are clammy and fingers too fidgety so he ends up ripping it and sugar spills everywhere.
God, he's as clumsy as Namjoon. - shit. Don't think about Namjoon -
"What do you want, what's going on." Seokjin demands.
Yoongi opens his mouth, then closes it. Normally, his bullshitting game is pretty strong, but under Seokjin's cocked eyebrow and judgemental expression the words are weak climbing up on his throat and die on his tongue, leaving a dry after taste. He almost burns his tongue in his rush to wash it away.
"Namjoon needs to move out." Yoongi says quickly.
Seokjin's eyes go wide. "What, why? Oh, Yoongichi. Did something happen?"
Yoongi pauses. "Yes?" Seokjin stops looking sympathetic and narrows his eyes. "Yes," Yoongi says again, trying to sound more certain. He begins to shred the sugar packet between his fingers. "Things aren't... going great."
"They're not going great?" Seokjin repeats back, eyebrows somehow cocking even higher (he must have great facial expression control - Yoongi wonders if he practices in the mirror during his spare time.) Seokjin shakes his head. "Alright, come on. Spit it out, what did you do?"
"What did I do ? How do you know Namjoon-ah didn't do something?" Yoongi scoffs.
"Because, you've lived with him for almost 3 years, if he'd done something he'd have done it by now. The man put a spoon in the microwave, not really sure you can get a more explosive reason to look for a new flatmate than that."
"It's not Namjoon." Yoongi hisses, suddenly feeling very stressed.
"I know it's not, of course it isn't. This is clearly a you thing and you're dealing with it the way you always deal with things."
"Sensibly and like an adult?" Yoongi winces.
Seokjin doesn't look impressed. He takes a deep, long sip of his shitty caramel frappe. How dare Seokjin judge him on how he handles things, when his coping mechanism is a ratio of 3 shots of syrup to every one shot of caffeine. Or wine.
"Yoongichi, he's your best friend. Whatever is going on, you can't run away from it."
"You're my best friend." Yoongi grumbles.
"If I'm your best friend, then why are you trying to get Namjoon-ah to move in with me? Like, what are you going to do if he moves out, hm?"
Yoongi shifts uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, I'd figure something out. I just need to make sure Joon-ah will be okay first. If we had to split ways."
"Yoongichi, I love you. But you're making zero sense. Why the hell are you trying to kick your best friend out?"
"He's not my best friend."
"Sure." Seokjin snorts around another sip of his drink, rolls his eyes. "And Hoseok isn't fucking Taehyung and Jimin."
"Hoseok isn't fucking Taehyung and Jimin." Yoongi hesitates. "Wait, is he?"
Seokjin whacks him with a napkin. "Focus! Tell your hyung what you did to make things weird!"
"Nothing!" Yoongi hisses, swatting him away. He crosses his arms and slides down into the seat, hoping he can hide the flush on his cheeks and necks by stuffing his forearms over his mouth. "It's just... not working out anymore."
"Things just aren't working out?" Seokjin repeats flatly.
Yoongi nods, like a liar. Because, okay, it's not that things aren't working out. It's just that Namjoon is - working out, that is. A lot. And it's really not good for either Yoongi's general well being, or his fragile self restraint.
Seokjin pinches the bridge of his nose dramatically, because he really does believe he's the main character of a k-drama, and sighs. "Yoongi, I am going to give you a piece of advice."
Seokjin reaches across and smacks him with the napkin again. "Yah! You literally invited me out so I could help."
"Yeah, and when I meant help I meant to take my flatmate off my hands." Yoongi grumbles. He flicks the empty sugar packet across the table. "Not give me shitty, unsolicited advice."
" I think whatever is going on you need to talk to Namjoon about your feelings, and then if it really results in one of you needing to move out, then. Well." Seokjin shrugs. "But first, really strip down the issue and get to the bottom of this."
Yoongi groans. "Please, nobody should be stripping anything right now."
Seokjin gives him a confused look. Yoongi ignores him in favour of stabbing a new sugar packet with the blunt part of his stirrer.
Yoongi leaves the cafe feeling like no weight has been lifted from his shoulders, and no closer to solving his predicament. Which is how he usually feels after going to Seokjin with a problem, "just figure it out, Yoongichi.", he’d say, normally with a dismissive wave of his wrist. He doesn't really do practical solutions, or emotional talks. But he does pay; so that already puts him a bar above Hoseok who neither does emotional talks (at least, if he's involved) and has these big crazy ideas about being "honest and open". And then he makes Yoongi pay, so.
He goes back to the flat, taps in their keycode, toes his shoes off and chucks his work lanyard into their little fruit bowl. And is immediately greeted by the catalyst of all of his problems:
Namjoon. Or, more specifically, Namjoon in cycling shorts.
Yoongi doesn't move. Namjoon is bent over, rummaging through the bottom shelf of the fridge. He squats down, carves tensing underneath the tight spandex and bobbing slightly on the spot. He wiggles his hips a little.
Yoongi fights the urge to scream.
Namjoon is humming quietly to himself as he digs through, emerging with a little tub of strawberries. He pops one into his mouth, red lips pulling around the thick point of the berry as he slowly munches down, a dribble of sweet syrup running from the corner of his mouth.
Yoongi wants to lick it off. He also wants to do something drastic - like set himself on fire.
Namjoon tilts his head back and opens his eyes, so he's fluttering his lashes prettily at Yoongi as he pears up. His face breaks into a grin. "Ah, hyung. How was coffee with Seokjin-hyung?"
Yoongi blinks, trying to remember how words work. The syllables stick to the back of his teeth and are tacky on his tongue. Jesus christ, get a grip.
"Fine." He manages to grit out. He chucks his bag onto the sofa but he does it with too much force and it lands straight on the floor. His eyes dart between the bag and Namjoon in panic. "Perfectly uneventful."
Namjoon frowns, he looks concerned. "Yeah, are you sure?"
Namjoon jumps to his feet and plods closer to Yoongi. He brushes his bangs out of his eyes and presses his sticky fingers against his forehead. Yoongi has to swat him away, scowling.
“Stop it, I’m fine!”
“You look all red, did you run here?”
“Did I run here?” Yoongi snorts. “When have you ever seen me run anywhere? ”
Namjoon hums in agreement. He reaches one arm behind his back and bends the other over his elbow in a stretch, Yoongi has to resist letting his eyes drop down to follow the slither of exposed skin between the hem of his top and his shorts.
"Oh, that reminds me - are you still okay to drive me to the gym tomorrow? Jungkookie wants me there early for our workout and it's supposed to be raining."
Yoongi sighs. "Joon-ah, do I have too? I have better things to do than wait around for you two to pump testosterone and watch Jungkook practice man handling techniques on you that he'll probably later use in bed with Seokjin-hyung."
"That's not what we do, hyung. They're stretches, nothing to do with that. " Namjoon pauses. "I don't think that's what we were doing, anyways... hyung, you don't really think that's what he's doing, is it? Some of those stretches really hurt - hyung, I'm concerned, do you think Seokjin-hyung is alright?"
Yoongi ignores him. "Why do you need to go to the gym anyways, yah? What's all this about?"
"What?" Namjoon tilts his head.
Yoongi flaps his arm out, gesturing vaguely to Namjoon whilst pointedly looking past his earlobe, so he doesn't have to look directly at him. "All of - all of this." He drops his hand down defeatedly. "You've worked out today already."
Namjoon glances over his appearance. " Ooh, this wasn't a proper workout, hyung. I just went for a bike ride with Jimin." As if to prove a point, or maybe send Yoongi to an early grave, Namjoon digs his thumb into the waistband of his skin tight shorts and pulls out the band, letting it snap back with an obscene slap that makes Yoongi think all sorts of things he shouldn't be thinking about at this close proximity of Namjoon's toned, sweaty thighs.
God, I'm a pervert, aren't I? He thinks, as he makes sure not to follow the dribble of sweat that gathers under Namjoon's chin and drips down his neck -
"Fine." He says sharply, "I'll drive you, but if you need to go anywhere else after that you're on your own, I got a deadline tomorrow."
"You're the best, Yoongi-hyung." Namjoon beams, dropping his arms to his sides as he sways a little on the spot.
He does this sometimes, like he's got all this pent up energy and affection but he doesn't really know what to do with it. Neither of them are particularly tactile, so instead Namjoon pats Yoongi a little awkwardly on the shoulder and shows his gratitude instead by scooping up Yoongi's bag (as he feared he would - tight ass only inches away from Yoongi's twitching fingers. This is hell. Pure, tight, spandex hell ) and then taking it for him to his room.
"You should workout with us, hyung!" Namjoon calls, "it could be really fun! And Jungkookie gets us into the gym for free, too!"
"No thanks." Yoongi wrinkles his nose. He's already enabling his own downfall by assisting Namjoon in getting beefier (and, therefore, making Yoongi's life harder), he can't imagine encouraging this further by volunteering to be his sweaty wrestling partner.
Namjoon pokes his head back around the wall and pouts. "Why not? You worried about getting too buff for your clothes?"
Yoongi has to swallow down the scoff and fight the twitch of his lips . Coming from you?
"What part of deadline did you not understand?" He grumbles instead. "You're lucky I'm just benevolent enough to be willing to expose my nice, clean, macbook to your sweaty mancave of a gym."
Namjoon giggles, "You'd do anything for me, I'm your favourite."
Yoongi doesn't dignify that statement with an answer, instead he reaches for the TV remote and turns up whatever home renovation channel he'd left on this morning to drown out Namjoon's laughter.
He can hear the sound of the shower going, and lets out a breath he hadn't even realised he was holding in a big sigh, slipping further down into the sofa.
Life with Namjoon has been- hard, for the past few months.
It's not that Yoongi suddenly developed this attraction to Namjoon overnight. It's always been there, simmering in the background and, sometimes, peaking to a high boiling point on the rare occasion.
Like when he'd get dressed up to go out with their friends, eyeliner smeared in the corner of his eyes to make them look even darker, highlight high on his cheekbones to make them look even sharper. Or when he'd wear a suit, there's something real sexy about Namjoon dressed up in one of those button ups, the way the buttons have always strained across his chest, even before he'd started bulking up.
Or the way he looks first thing in the morning, when his long eyelashes are still sticky with sleep and his hair is sticking at weird angles. The way he squints in the morning light, thumbling about in their little apartment with a comforter thrown over his shoulders as he mumbles about where his glasses are -
Okay, maybe it's not only on rare occasions. Yoongi is attracted to Namjoon, like, all the fucking time. But he'd always been good at maneuvering his attraction for him around their narrow, shared living space. Never letting it take up more than a corner of space, always keeping it stamped down deep inside him.
It wasn't worth getting feelings involved. Namjoon was the best flatmate he'd ever had, even with his habit of forgetting what he's doing half way through it (leading to several abandoned mugs of tea and bin bags left in the entrance from where he'd probably forgotten to pick it back up after tying his shoelaces), and maybe the best friend he'd ever had, too.
He can't imagine trying to insert his own confusing feelings for Namjoon, when they can hardly fit a sofa and a tv stand in their living room. It just wasn't worth it, some things are maybe better left unsaid.
But, if those feelings were a boiling point - the Namjoon working out was driving Yoongi past that, the pot is fucking overflowing and leaking water over the gas stove to feed the fire underneath until suddenly the kitchen is burning down - to put it simply: Namjoon is now even fucking hotter and Yoongi gets gayer by the second.
It started off like most things with Namjoon do: small. It's like that time Namjoon came home with his first house plant, just this little, inconspicuous bonsai that Yoongi had admittedly thought he'd kill by the end of the week, if his track record of being able to remember small things like his keys was anything to go by.
But his love for nature seemed to outweigh his dyspraxic and absent minded tendancines; one bonsai became 2, then it became 3, then it became a cheese plant that now is in danger of hitting their low ceiling and outgrowing its wickerwork basket, and there's a little row of healthy, flowering cacti on their windowsill. Sometimes, Namjoon takes the plants into the shower with him - because they like humidity, apparently.
Namjoon's passion for exercising is exactly like that. At first, he just wanted to work on his core strength. Whatever that meant. And then he was just being polite and taking Jungkook up on that discounted membership he kept offering up to everyone (which he only kept offering because he wanted to drop into conversation he's a qualified personal trainer now, and he wanted as much praise for that as the kid could get), then he was just taking fucking spin classes so he could up his distance on his bike -
And then boom. Yoongi's beloved, noodle twink roommate has turned into a himbo twunk with forearms the size of tree trunks and boobs that are bordering on needing an underwire, if they get any bigger.
Yoongi can hear Namjoon singing to himself in the shower, he always does it, probably because he thinks Yoongi can't hear and he's never let on that he can. So he turns up the TV and pushes his sweater paws against his cheeks so he hides the flush and pretends he's not stupidly endeared.
It would be easier if his attraction to Namjoon was purely physical. After all, who hasn't had a guilty jack off session to their flatmate every once in a while? ( "Oh, everyone totally has." Jimin had reassured, as he stroked Hoseok's thigh and growled, nipping at Taehyung's neck playfully as he did. Which, wasn't actually very convincing since he'd never used Taehyung, Jimin and Hoseok's relationship as a benchmark for normal.)
But no, sadly, Yoongi is hopelessly in love with his himbo flatmate. It's fine, though. Really. Yoongi has survived 5 years of living with Namjoon and being able to swallow down his feelings every morning with a bitter coffee and, at most, a quick pep talk with himself in the mirror.
Sure, Namjoon has beefed up a bit now. But Yoongi's not about to start objectifying his best friend, he's not some 18th Century man being flushed at a little slither of an ankle.
As if on queue, the shower shuts off and Namjoon pokes his head back around the entrance to the living room and kitchen area, droplets of water gather at the end of his hair and drip onto the floor, or down the caverns of his chest.
Because he's shirtless. Why wouldn't he be?
Namjoon has the smallest possible towel wrapped around his midsection, it barely meets around the thick of his thighs and hardly covers his groin. This is hell.
He does this little hop as he bashfully tries to navigate his way to the sofa. He awkwardly reaches over Yoongi, so Yoongi's forced to stare right at Namjoon's nipples - pointedly and desperately staring at the point past Namjoon's shoulder so he looks up instead of down - as Namjoon plucks his disregarded dressing gown from behind the sofa.
"Aha! Sorry hyung, I forgot to get the towels out of the wash." He says in explanation, and then jogs out of the room.
Yoongi just saw a lot more than an ankle. He calmly takes one of the cushion pillows, raises it to his face, and screams into it.
Namjoon was right, it was raining the next morning, pretty heavily. It doesn't stop Yoongi from putting up a fuss about having to drive him, as he blinks sleep out of his eyes and pushes his morning coffee past the pout on his lips and slurps.
It's a decaf, because his doctor said all the caffeine he was drinking wasn't helping his ADHD symptoms and probably contributing to his bouts of insomnia. Yoongi wasn't really going to go about telling medical professionals that he's actually kept awake at night haunted by the image of his flatmate’s bare chest and its mystery or whether or not his pecs jiggle if he's not tensing (like in that tiktok Jungkook had sent him) because - well, he doesn't need any more judgement than he's already getting.
Namjoon stumbles into the kitchen around about 7 in the morning, dressed in one of those grey tracksuits that screams nothing more to Yoongi than "whore", especially since he's is insistent on wearing the shorts version - he's not even a regular whore, he's a slutty whore.
Yoongi snorts at his own joke and disguises it with another large slurp of his coffee; Namjoon dumps his bag on the space next to him.
"I really appreciate this, hyung." Namjoon chirps, "I'm just going to grab my gym towel."
Yoongi grunts and Namjoon jogs out the room again, probably to go rummage through his pile of washing, and as he's gone Yoongi pears into the bag.
He doesn't really mean to look, it's just sort of in front of him and he wants to make sure Namjoon's remembered to pack a water bottle more than anything (he doesn't want him to get dehydrated, and he can be rather forgetful) which he does manage to find after rummaging around a little.
It's not full, so Yoongi unearths it from underneath a few pieces of fabric, fills it and is confronted with something much more concerning.
Namjoon's gym attire. Or, more accurately, lack thereof.
He pulls out the offending items and scowls at them, like they're a personal attack. Namjoon has decided that all he apparently needs to wear is a small pair of running shorts that can hardly cover an ass cheek, let alone two thick ones, and a small tank top. Yoongi fists at the material. Namjoon has chosen violence, and Yoongi must restore peace and do something about it.
Like any sane person, he makes the quick-minded decision to take the items of clothing, ball them up as tightly as he can and stuff them between the sides of the sofa. Because there is no fucking way Yoongi will be able to sit there for an hour and watch Namjoon jump about in this skimpy outfit.
His fingers twitch as he hurriedly stuffs a pillow over the top. This is stupid, it's a whole new level of unhinged that he does not enjoy experiencing. What will Namjoon even wear when they get there? Can he work out in the tracksuit, that's surely what most people wear, right?
Yoongi doesn't know. He doesn't make a habit of going to the gym when he's fine with the few collections of weights he has at the foot of his bed, and he can run home from work when he feels up to it. But, as selfish as it is, he just can't sit through a gym session with Namjoon - dressed like - that.
"Oh, hyung! Did you fill up my water bottle for me, thank you!" Namjoon chirps, appearing back from his bedroom with another tiny towel.
Yoongi jumps and quickly drops the water back into Namjoon's bag, nodding.
Namjoon frowns and tries to follow Yoongi's eyeline past his shoulder. "What, what's wrong?"
"Nothing." Yoongi says quickly. He struggles and quickly gestures towards the door. "It's... the shoe rack."
"The shoe rack?" Namjoon echos.
"It's... our shoes have scuffed the paint around the wall, see?" Yoongi gestures vaguely towards the floor and Namjoon's eyes follow, squinting. "You haven't got your glasses on, don't try. It's getting bad though, that'll come out of our deposit one day if we're not careful." He tries to save himself.
Namjoon's bottom lip drops into a pout and his arms go limp. "Oh, are you thinking of moving out at some point then, hyung?"
Yoongi winces as he remembers his conversation with Seokjin from yesterday, feeling guilty. "No, of course not. Don't be stupid, Namjoon-ah." He doesn't give Namjoon a chance to answer and quickly stands to his feet, "Come on, let's get going. You don't want to be late for your homoeroetic wrestling sessions with Jungkook-ah, after all."
"It's called stretching, hyung!" Namjoon hisses and Yoongi snorts, dragging him out the apartment.
Jungkook is already waiting for them when they get to the gym, doing jumping jacks outside the changing room door because he's a weirdo.
"Yoongi-hyung, Namjoon-hyung!" He greets, jumping into a salute before he starts fighting the air. "You ready to get pumped?"
"No." Yoongi deadpans. He adjusts the rucksack on his back. "I'm here to work."
"Borrringgg." Jungkook whines. "You ready to get it, Namjoon-hyung?" He spins to Namjoon and lands a punch on his chest. Then he stops. "Woah, jiggly."
Namjoon slaps his hands away. "Hey! You have - have pecs too, stop it."
"Yours are so jiggly though." Jungkook's eyes are blown wide, he slowly moves his middle finger forward and Namjoon slaps him away again.
"Come on, let's go!" He hisses.
Yoongi is very much relieved.
"What will you do, hyung?" Namjoon asks.
Yoongi shrugs. "Uh, is there a cafe... or..."
"You can just sit and work on the bench!" Jungkook chirps, "watching us might motivate you to go just as hard!"
Yoongi cringes at Jungkook's unintentional word choice. "Yeah, okay."
He makes his way through the changing room and into the personal trainer work out room, which Jungkook uses his staff privilege so the pair of them can work out undisturbed and in private.
Which is probably just as hell, going by how - vigorous and exerting Jungkook's workouts seem to be. If the picture Namjoon has painted is anything to go by.
Yoongi places himself awkwardly on the bench next to the water cooler and slowly peels his laptop out of his bag. He takes a deep breath, he can do this.
It's only for an hour. All he has to do is stick his headphones on and just make sure he looks down at his laptop instead of up.
This would maybe have been a perfect plan - if past Yoongi hadn't panicked intervene, and apparently caused even more pain.
"I don't know what to doooo." Yoongi can hear Namjoon whinging behind the door. "I swear I packed them this morning..."
"It's fine, hyung. You look fine, it's just us." Jungkook reassures and Yoongi barely has any time to brace himself for what truly is the final blow to his short, pathetic life.
Jungkook throws the door open and there Namjoon stands, looking slightly timid and uncomfortable but not dressed in his already skimpy tracksuit like Yoongi had hoped.
Oh no, Namjoon is in nothing but his fucking tight underwear and a tank top, most likely borrowed from Jungkook.
"Namjoon-hyung forgot his workout stuff, so I just told him to go as he is and we found a spare top in my locker." Jungkook explains casually, already squatting himself down into a stretching position. "I said we wouldn't mind. Would we hyung?"
Yoongi swallows. Shit, shit, fucking shit - "yeah, that's fine." He says dryly, very tense.
Namjoon gives him a look that Yoongi doesn't really want to try and unpack, instead he stares down at his laptop and tries his best to focus on work.
He stares at his reflection in his blank laptop screen.
You. He thinks. You caused this.
Yoongi tries his best to ignore the fact that his world is currently crumbling around him, he really does. But sadly, at the end of the day, he is still gay. Very gay and in a room of his two very attractive friends, dressed in very little clothing, doing their very homoerotic looking workout.
Jungkook has Namjoon doing all sorts of shit that will probably haunt Yoongi past the grave. This includes:
- Jump rope. Yoongi didn't need further proof that, yes, pecks do indeed jiggle like any other pair of boobs, as he watches Namjoon's try and burst out from his little tank top.
- Running and jogging, which involves more torturous leg movement that just shows how thick and veiny and tasty looking Namjoon's thighs really have become. They look like they're moments from bursting out of his tight boxers, and god they really don't leave anything to the imagination.
Yoongi wants to ride them. He also wants to get on a bike and ride far, far away from here.
- Crawling -????? Why is Namjoon crawling??? Hands and knees??? Far too primal. Jesus christ. What the fuck, there's something thick and heavy resting between Namjoon's legs--
Yoongi snaps his laptop shut so hard that Jungkook actually jumps. Namjoon stops crawling, ass stuck in the air as he tilts his head in concern.
"Hyung?" He says hesitantly.
Yoongi jumps to his feet. "Bathroom." He squeaks, and then stiffly walks himself back into the changing rooms before either of them can say another word.
He splashes cold water on his face and pokes at his reflection in the mirror.
"Get a fucking grip. " He hisses at himself, splashing more water and wiping it over his face. "You need to calm down, you total freak."
Guilt curls in the pit of his stomach. He has no one to blame for his appalling behaviour but himself. He's 28, there's really no excuse.
Poor Namjoon is just trying to exercise and express himself with a now more, revealing style of fashion. He's just trying to live his best, comfy life at home and Yoongi is objectifying him to a point that the poor man can't even exercise without Yoongi popping one.
He feels awful. He sets a hard glare and forces himself to maintain eye contact with the mirror. He's going to get over this weird crush of his, he has to.
After Namjoon decides he's performed enough himbo activities with Jungkook, Yoongi drives them home in stoic silence. Any form of conversation Namjoon tries to start dies very quickly, as Yoongi keeps his gaze cool and focussed on the road.
He can't talk to Namjoon right now, not until he's got his feelings and priorities straight.
Eventually, Namjoon stops trying. Instead turns on his side and starts tracing the rain drops slipping down the window with his finger.
"Are you avoiding Namjoon?" Jimin asks.
"That's a weird way to pronounce, 'welcome to Caffee Pasucci, what can I get you' " Yoongi grunts, "And I want an Americano. Large." Yoongi considers. "No sugar."
Jimin raises his eyebrow and plucks a cup from the assortment behind the counter. "Namjoon said you were supposed to be cutting out caffeine."
Yoongi fidgets on the spot at the mention of Namjoon.
He hasn't spoken to him in almost 3 days. Which must be some kind of record for them. The last time they had any kind of disagreement it only managed to last until the evening, before Namjoon was scratching at Yoongi's bedroom door like a cat wanting attention meowing " I'm sorry hyung, please come watch tv with me. We can watch that documentary about the history of French Catholic architecture you wanted to watch so bad. "
Namjoon, meowing. Yoongi shakes his head. Bad word choice.
But the point is, they're not even fighting this time. It's all on Yoongi, really. Trying to physically out run his feelings once again, but it's only a matter of time before they trip him up.
Jimin taps his pen lid against the cup, head tilted judgingly.
Yoongi shrugs uncomfortably. "I don't know, Namjoon's not here."
"I'm really glad you brought Namjoon up, actually."
"I literally didn't mention him, you brought him up."
Jimin taps something into the register, the total pings 0 on the counter and he shuts the cash drawer (as he always does for Yoongi. Friendship privileges: never having to pay for coffee). He hands the cup over to his co-worker working the coffee machine, leans across the desk and jabs the pen accusingly against Yoongi's chest. "I hear you're avoiding him."
Yoongi wrinkles his nose. "How the hell did you hear about that?"
"News travels fast." Jimin hums. "But don't shoot the messenger, Yoongi-hyung. What's going on, hm? Spill?"
"Nothing's going on." Yoongi grumbles back.
"Nope, I'm not buying it. Tell me or I'll get Beomgyu to spit in your coffee."
The barista behind him makes a distressed sounding noise.
"Stop using your supervisor position to bully your staff! Nothing is going on, Park Jimin. I just..." Yoongi stuffs his hands into his pockets and takes a deep breath. "I'm just trying to figure out some stuff."
"Well, you better figure that shit out quicker. You know Namjoon thinks he's done something, right? If you can't keep your feelings from him, maybe you should stop trying." Jimin shrugs, unsympathetic.
"What the hell does that mean?" Yoongi furrows his brow. "You can't - you surely can't mean I should tell him how I feel, right? That's stupid."
"So what, what's the plan? Are you just going to ignore him forever, hope the feelings just fizzle out? You live with the guy, and instead of tapping that ass, you keep dragging your own sorry one into my cafe, acting like I'm some kind of barman for you to spew all your sadness too. This isn't Casablanca. "
"Have you even seen Casablanca and - sorry, your cafe? You are not the CEO of Caffee Passucci - "
Jimin sighs dramatically. "Stop deflecting. I'm bored of this, hyung. I like drama, you know, I live for the moments you drag yourself in here, 10 minutes before closing, just to stall going back to your sexy flatmate because you can't confront your feelings. Mainly because I get to gossip about it with Taehyungie and Hobi when I get home."
"You tell them? I thought this was private and confidential - "
"I'm a barista, not your therapist." Jimin takes the coffee off of Beomgyu, thrusts a cardboard holder onto it and shoves it into Yoongi's hands. "But this is pushing it. Stop being stupid, hyung. Fix it before you can't."
Yoongi opens his mouth to say more, but Jimin reaches across the counter and takes hold of his shoulders, shoving him towards the exit.
Yoongi cradles his cup in his hands and makes his way back down to the underground station.
He spends most of the journey mulling over Jimin's words and sipping half heartedly at his coffee. He knows he's right, as much as he never wants to admit Jimin could possibly be right about anything, but he is this time.
Yoongi can't afford to lose Namjoon. Both literally and figuratively. Well, for a start, he couldn't afford to lose Namjoon as a roommate. But he also can't do this, any of this, without him. His dumb crush is not worth sacrificing their very valuable friendship.
So, he decides he has to make this right. No more running from his feelings, he needs to either own up and not be a sap about it, or he needs to push them down far enough that they're not always seconds away from climbing up his throat and forcing their way past his lips.
Namjoon means too much to him to do that. Beef cake or not, he loves him. And he'll just have to deal with that.
He goes back to the flat, taps in their keycode, toes his shoes off and chucks his work lanyard into their little fruit bowl.
"Namjoon," He says loudly, eyes squeezed shut as he braces himself for impact, "we need to talk, and hyung needs to tell you he's sorry."
He expects to maybe be greeted by Namjoon popping his head out of his room, or maybe pausing the tv and casting a well deserved cold and stoic look. What he doesn't expect to do is almost smash the door straight into Namjoon's head, as he sits on his hands and knees with a paint brush stuck between his teeth and a pan of creamy coloured paint placed vicariously behind him.
He jumps at Yoongi's voice, head perking up and slamming straight into the opening of the shoe rack. He yelps in surprise, stumbles, and falls straight back into the paint so he's sitting in it.
Steaks of white splash from the trey and splutter against the wooden shoe rack, a few hitting Namjoon's cheek and eyebrow.
Yoongi stares. "What - Namjoon!"
" Fuck. " Namjoon hisses, and then whimpers as he once hoovers his outfit, still sitting in the paint. "This was one of my favourite pairs of dungarees."
Yoongi really doesn't have it in him to process the fact that Namjoon is yet again in one of his slutty little outfits, this time a pair of denim dungarees that stop mid thigh and he has one buckle undone so it exposes the little white top (looks almost like a fucking bralette ) for, for reasons.
Yoongi has to bite back the "one of??" comment on the tip of his tongue. "What - what are you even doing?"
"You said - you said the shoe rack was scuffing the paint." Namjoon gestures sadly to the wall, where he's started to try and paint over the little black marks and chipped paint. He drops his arm, the paint brush slaps against his thigh and splatters even more paint up his inner thigh and crotch area.
Yoongi takes a deep breath through his nose. "And why are you painting it by yourself? Why didn't you wait for me?"
"Because you fix everything, and I wanted to do something for once" Namjoon pouts. He scrunches his nose and evaluates his position. "Why does my skin feel like it's burning?"
Yoongi's eyes widen as he quickly picks up the can of paint. He reads the label and seethes, "Why did you buy acrylic paint? "
"Was that not right?"
"It's toxic, you dumbass! " Yoongi hisses as he rushes over to Namjoon, trying to carefully lift him out of the paint. Namjoon whines and stumbles, almost taking Yoongi down with him as he wedges his thigh between Yoongi's legs in an effort to not topple forward.
Yoongi clings to his dungaree strap and hoists them both into a more stable position, trying not to cringe at the wetness of paint between his thighs.
"You need to shower." Yoongi hisses.
Namjoon pouts, points a finger towards his work. "But - "
" Now. " Yoongi snaps. He steers Namjoon by the shoulders and starts pushing him towards the bathroom, trying to keep a wide step and doing his best to make sure no more paint drips onto the floor.
He manages to snatch one of the towels up from their dying rack and walks Namjoon over that, until they hit the bathtub.
"Strip." Yoongi snaps, leaning over the bath tub to turn the taps on full blast. He snatches up the shower head and runs his hand underneath it, making sure it's not too warm.
He looks over his shoulder to see Namjoon still standing on the towel, gaping at him.
"Come on, Joon-ah, we need to get it off!"
"But - what - you can leave, hyung! I can wash myself!"
"Stop fussing and get in the bloody bathtub, it's nothing I haven't seen before! Just strip already."
Namjoon, for the first time, actually looks a little bashful. He hesitantly begins to fiddle with the other buckle strap, fingers shaking slightly.
Yoongi hisses impatiently and pushes himself off the bathtub, striding over to slap Namjoon's hand away and unclip the buckle himself.
Namjoon's cheeks glow red as the overalls unclip and fall to his ankles with a thud. Yoongi realises how close he's standing, how invasive he was, and goes to apologise but Namjoon is quicker.
"Thank you, hyung." He says in a rush. He looks pointedly at the ceiling as his hands slip down to his groin.
Yoongi wants to ask what's wrong, he literally saw Namjoon jog in his underwear the other day, but as his eyes trail down to where Namjoon's big hands grip himself he realises....
Namjoon isn't wearing any underwear.
Two things go through his head at once.
- Holy shit. He's half naked.
"Did you get paint on your dick?" Yoongi's eyes snap back up to meet Namjoon's in a panic, "Shit, I don't know what we do if you get paint on genitals, the skins so sensitive there - "
"No!" Namjoon hisses, "I - I don't think so -"
"Get in the shower, now!" Yoongi pushes Namjoon again back towards the bathtub and Namjoon scrambles to try and free himself from his top, one hand placed firmly on his groin as he does.
Yoongi sighs exasperatedly and helps him lift the top over his arms. They free him and he stumbles into the bath, bashing his shin as he does.
Yoongi tries to not look at his ass, he really, really does. And he knows he needs to get the fuck out of there, really. But dear fuck it's just so round and jiggly - and also covered in splatters of paint that start on his thighs and inner thigh, and splatter dangerously up towards his crack -
Namjoon wades into the water and sticks himself under the shower, shifting awkwardly.
"How is it? Does it still burn?" Yoongi asks anxiously.
"The - the water is soothing the sensation..." Namjoon grumbles.
"You need to scrub it off," Yoongi directs. "I can... I'll leave now, just make sure to use the luther - "
"I don't even know where the paint is." Namjoon whines. He tries to peer over his shoulder and check, returns pouting. "I can't see at this angle."
Yoongi swallows. "I could... I have a hand mirror."
"Hyung, can't you just." He takes a deep breath and inhales some of the water, spluttering with his eyes squeezed shut. "Please, hyung. Can you just help?"
Yoongi thinks his heart skips a beat.
"If it makes you uncomfortable, then don't worry. But, I don't mind. It's okay."
Guilt swells in Yoongi's chest. He's spent the good part of half a year sexualising his best friend, having terrible, haunting, horny thoughts about him late at night and now here he is, wet, naked and dripping. Asking Yoongi to scrub paint off his naked ass.
Yoongi swallows it all down. Namjoon needs his help, and he's going to suck it up and do that.
Yoongi drops down onto his knees and sits by the edge of the bathtub. He pinches at his trousers nervously.
"Turn around." He just about manages to get out through his gritted teeth. Deep breaths. Stay calm. Don't scream.
Namjoon awkwardly shifts from foot to foot and sheepishly hands him the loofah. He then drops down to his own knees, and for a moment they're just sat face to face, staring at one another.
Yoongi swallows, so does Namjoon.
Then, Namjoon takes another shaky breath, one that makes his chest rattle a bit as it collapses and falls, then he slowly turns around.
The paint is still very much attached to his thighs and butt, some of it is even smeared across his lower back, flaky and patchy but smeared into his skin.
Yoongi knows he needs to act quickly if he doesn't want to risk Namjoon actually getting a chemical burn. He picks up the loofah, doses it in a generous amount of body wash (it's orange scented) and hovers it over Namjoon's skin hesitantly.
"Yeah, just do it." Namjoon encourages. Yoongi can't see his face but he guesses the pink on the back of his neck isn't just from the heat of the bathroom.
Yoongi leans over the bathtub, rolls up his sleeves, and begins pushing the loofah against the back of Namjoon's thighs.
Namjoon immediately falls forward onto his hands, water lapping over the side of the bathtub.
"Sorry." Yoongi cringes. He tries to do it again and Namjoon hisses and squirms underneath him. "Namjoon-ah." Yoongi scolds, "stop moving, otherwise I won't be able to get it off."
Namjoon whines and Yoongi rolls his eyes, trying to scrub harder as Namjoon instinctively pushes away from the sensation.
Yoongi growls and takes a hold of Namjoon by his waist to steady him and begins to scrub.
Namjoon jumps when Yoongi's fingers curl around his waist.
"Sorry." Namjoon says, so quietly Yoongi can hardly hear him over the swash of the water. "My waist is... sensitive, sorry. I'm sensitive."
"It's...okay." Yoongi says back gently. He dips the loofah back into the water, and rolls it back over his thighs. "I have to do it hard, Namjoon-ah. Otherwise I can't get the paint off."
"It's okay, you can be rough." Namjoon says.
Christ. Fuck. Fucking hell.
Yoongi begins to scrub harder, the skin underneath the paint tinting pink quickly as he does but thankfully the paint begins to splinter off as he does.
Namjoon braces himself against the wall on the other side of the small bathtub, making these little gaspy noises as he does. Yoongi tries not to note the way the water sloshes backwards and forwards, the way Namjoon's hips snap in time as Yoongi manhandles him and scrubs. Yoongi's dick twitches in interest.
This is hell.
He tries to drown his own horny thoughts out by reaching for the shower head and running the water against the back over Namjoon's thighs, and experimentally over his ass.
Namjoon gasps again at the sensation, ducking his head so it thuds softly against the edge of the bath.
"You - you okay?" Yoongi checks in.
Namjoon nods and makes another little breathy sound. "Y-yeah, all good. How's it looking?"
"Better." Yoongi grunts. "I've almost got it all off your thighs...."
"But?" Namjoon prompts.
Yoongi chews on the inside of his cheek. Fuck, this is so awkward. "I'm... I'm worried about the paint in between your inner thighs and... and there's a bit on your ass cheeks, and maybe some in the crack."
Namjoon takes a shaky breath. "Okay." He squeaks. "What now?"
"Namjoon-ah I can...Hyung can help but..."
"But?" Namjoon asks nervously.
Yoongi shakes his head to clear it. No. Feelings need to be set aside. Yoongi needs to get the paint off his best friend, before it potentially leaves a chemical burn and then Namjoon will have to thrust his ass in front of some random emergency doctor. That's way more embarrassing than this. He has to push through.
"But nothing, hyung will do it for you." Yoongi reassures. He dips his fingers into the water and swirls the tips in some more soapy bubbles. "I'm going to touch you now, okay?"
Namjoon hesitates. "Okay." He finally says. "This is so humiliating."
"It could be worse." Yoongi grunts. He places a hand on Namjoon's ass cheek to steady himself. It's so squishy between his fingers, all slippery from the water. Yoongi has to take another large gulp of air, like he's surfacing from water.
He needs to get a fucking grip.
He furrows his brow and squints in concentration, as he begins to massage his thumb over a stubborn splatter of paint on Namjoon's left ass cheek.
Namjoon makes another little noise and Yoongi shifts at the sound of it, realising then that he is absolutely hard. He squeezes his own legs together to try and relieve some of the pressure.
Namjoon's thighs are trembling as Yoongi keeps working his fingers, alternating between that and the loofah. The paint does begin to flake away again, but he can still see little flicks of it where Namjoon's ass cheeks meet.
"I really think I need to scrub deeper, I'm sorry Joon-ah. I know this must feel violating, hyung doesn't have to."
"It doesn't." Namjoon breathes out. His thighs shake and his body quivers. Yoongi tries to run a hand soothingly down Namjoon's lower back, but it sends more ripples through his body instead.
He keeps scrubbing in relative silence, trying not to think about what he still needs to do when Namjoon finally speaks up.
Yoongi stops his scrubbing. "What is it, Joon-ah?"
"Why... why did you ask Seokjin-hyung if he still had a spare room?"
Yoongi stills. Shit.
"Namjoon-ah, I'm not sure this is the time to talk about this - "
"Jungkook-ah told me you'd asked about it. And then, before we went to the gym, you were talking about the scuff marks, like the landlord might notice. But the landlord would only ever come over if we were moving or something..." Namjoon shakes his head. Water shakes out of his hair as he does, drips caverns down the definition in his pecks again.
"Hyung, do you want to move out?"
"No, Joon-ah. That's really not what's going on." Yoongi insists, almost pleading. "Can we not do this now? I need to get this paint off - "
"You're my best friend, Yoongi-hyung. I just want to know what's going on, okay? Like, if you want to move out - or if I've done something - or, or, if I make you uncomfortable - "
"Your boobs are. Massive" Yoongi spits out.
The water sloshes, and then it stills.
Namjoon turns around to look over his shoulder, affronted. "Sorry?"
"Fuck, no. That's not what I meant - shit, okay. Namjoon-ah, you've gotten all, all massive and buff -"
"And it - it's hard, okay? You're so, fuck, you're so sexy. All the time. And you just, saunter around our flat, in these little outfits, like naked - "
"Are you saying I make you uncomfortable?"
"No!" Yoongi insists, groaning into the palm of his hands. Namjoon raises an eyebrow, waiting. "Okay, yes. But not for the reason you think." Yoongi inhales through his nose. "I'm attracted to you Namjoon, okay? I always have been. But it's gotten worse as you've beefed up and stuff. But I've always had feelings for you and... and I don't want to make you uncomfortable. Okay? I'm sorry, I tried to ignore them but I'm shitty and I can't. I'm sorry if this changes things, and I'm sorry if that makes you feel weird. About, well, all of this as well. I honestly just wanted to help."
"You... you have feelings for me?" Namjoon repeats slowly.
Yoongi cringes. "Please don't make this worse for me as it already is."
"Sorry, who's ass is in who's face right now?"
"This is still more humiliating." Yoongi says glumly. "You have a really nice ass."
Namjoon trembles, he must be getting cold. "Hyung... Ah, there's no easy way to say this."
Yoongi nods, bracing himself for impact. He gets it. He never expected Namjoon to return his feelings, he can take the rejection.
Namjoon chews on his bottom lip, and clenches his teeth. "Ah... okay, don't be mad."
"I promise I won't be."
"But..." Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut, and says in a rush. "I was doing it on purpose."
Yoongi freezes. "Doing... doing what on purpose?"
"I... I wanted you to be attracted to me, and, and as my body... changed... and I got a bit more, ah, confident. I wanted you to, well, notice."
Yoongi frowns, confused. "Trust me, I noticed."
"It wasn't to tease you or anything, I promise! I had no idea you felt like that. It's because I... I wanted you to feel, how I've always felt about you." Namjoon ducks his head, disturbing the water as more of it laps at the edges of the bathtub and spills over into Yoongi's lap.
He doesn't even really notice it, too focussed on processing Namjoon's words. "Namjoon-ah, you need to be clear with me. This isn't some teen drama, I can't be dealing with this vague confession shit."
Namjoon squirms and Yoongi tries again not to look at the way his ass jiggles.
"I like you, hyung." Namjoon says breathlessly. "I've had feelings for you, a really long time."
Yoongi tries to let the words sink in. Namjoon likes him, as in likes him, likes him.
And he decides to confess that now, with paint potentially drying in his crack and his ass gripped between Yoongi's fingers.
Yoongi hates him.
"Why are you only saying something now ?" Yoongi hisses, "huh? You've had all this time and you want to admit that now?"
"Me?" Namjoon scoffs, sending daggers over his shoulder. "You're the one who said you had feelings for me, for ages - "
"I didn't want to jeopardize anything, unlike some people who think it's better to taunt than to just fess up -"
"I wasn't taunting!" Namjoon huffs, "as I said, I just wanted to catch your attention." He wiggles his hips, looking embarrassed. "I like attention." He grumbles into his shoulder.
Yoongi has to bite back a groan. He can't do this.
"Don't look at me like that." Namjoon continues, obviously taking Yoongi's silence as an offence. "At least I tried to do something about it, unlike some people-"
"Yeah, and look where that landed you." Yoongi jokes, trying to land a playful tap against Namjoon's ass cheek but the sound Namjoon makes is absolutely nothing to be laughed at.
Yoongi's dick pulses again, aching to remind him that he's still very much hard and still very much holding Namjoon's perky little ass.
"Well, I seem to still be the only one willing to do something about it." Namjoon grumbles. Yoongi might have missed the way Namjoon purposefully begins to wiggle his ass back into Yoongi's grip, but the ripples of water around his thighs make the movements seem even more exaggerated.
Yoongi cocks an eyebrow. "Do you want me to do something about it?"
Namjoon ducks his head. His ass wiggles again and Yoongi spreads his fingers back around them to stop the movement, Namjoon makes another little sound.
"Need words, Joon-ah."
"Hyung..." Namjoon sucks on his lower lip, and mumbles, "didn't you say you think theirs paint in my ass?"
Yoongi giggles, breaking the tension. "Was that supposed to be sexy?"
"Shut up, fucking hell."
"Because it wasn't, and in fact yes I was concerned about that so if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna check now."
Yoongi takes a hold of each of Namjoon's ass cheeks, and pulls gently. "Are you sure this is okay?"
"You need to check either way, right." Namjoon grumbles, head ducked back down. Yoongi swats his ass cheek again, and Namjoon hisses like he likes it.
"Yes, this is okay. I promise I'm okay with this." Namjoon says, finally clear.
Yoongi takes a deep breath and slowly pulls his ass cheeks apart so he can inspect. There's a tiny swab of paint on the inside of his right ass cheek, that Yoongi can easily rub away with the pad of his thumb and a bit of soap.
Namjoon is completely smooth besides a little bit of stubble, and it drives Yoongi even more insane.
He tries to remember that he really does need to check Namjoon over for paint, and not get distracted by the literal asshole winking back at him.
Instead he reaches between Namjoon's legs to quickly scrub the paint on his inner thighs, gently using the palm of his right hand to tilt Namjoon's hips up.
At this nee angle, Yoongi is able to see Namjoon's dick for the first time. Hanging heavy and fucking big between his legs, hard and red looking. There's a shiny little trail down the underside, which alerts Yoongi to the fact that Namjoon is very hard and leaking.
"Shit." Yoongi breathes, "Fuck, Namjoon-ah, you're so beautiful."
"Fuck, Yoongi-hyung." Namjoon whines, "don't say that."
"But you are." Yoongi runs his hands up his stomach, just so he can feel and map out what he can't see. He takes a deep breath to steady himself before he pulls his hands back, one on Namjoon's hip and the other delicately dancing his index finger back down Namjoon's crack. "Can hyung get a second look now, now that I know you're all nice and clean?"
"Ah," Namjoon pants.
"Do you like that?" Yoongi asks genuinely, "because, I can touch elsewhere if you don't want that - "
"I like that." Namjoon confirms very quickly. Yoongi can see the back of his head as he nods vigorously. "I really like that, please."
"Ah, asking for what you want now. Maybe if you'd asked a little sooner, we wouldn't have to be in this ridiculous position."
"Oh, come on, you really don't have the high ground here - "
Yoongi tugs on his hips, forcing Namjoon to arch his back with a little surprised yelp and further back onto his finger, so it teases between his ass cheeks.
Namjoon melts in his hands, already whining prettly.
"I have the high ground now, Anakin."
"And you ruined it - "
Yoongi doesn't give him time to get bratty again, instead pressing the pad of his finger against Namjoon's hole and using his other hand to push his cheeks apart, so he can get a second look.
Namjoon gasps, whining and squirming in embarrassment at being exposed again. "Yoongi-hyung."
"Every inch of you is so gorgeous, Namjoon-ah. Your body is so good, you're so good." Yoongi praises, noting the way it makes Namjoon wiggle even more. He runs his hand back up soothingly. "You've worked so hard on it, Hyung has noticed. Hyung appreciates it."
"Ah, I'm glad. If - if I'd known that's all it would of taken to get you to like me - "
Yoongi rubs his thumb over his hole, dipping it into the slippery water and pressing it back again so Namjoon hisses at the sensitivity. "Don't say that. I've always liked you, always found you attractive. Even when you had noodle arms and too much leg, but I'm proud of you. I'm proud that you've taken such good care of yourself, gotten so healthy. You look so good."
Namjoon makes a sound that almost could classify as a sob, and Yoongi has barely touched him. He decides to reward him for it, drawing his fingers away totally momentarily.
Namjoon whines at the loss of touch, but makes a surprised little whimper as Yoongi presses his thumb back, this time coated in the little lube bottle kept under the sink (For reasons, neither one of them had ever dared bring up."
"Ah, ah, is that from the secret cupboard lube?"
"It sure is." Yoongi grins, pressing his thumb a little harder until it dips past the resistance of muscle. Namjoon preens, arching his back even more as he tries to get Yoongi to press it deeper.
"Ha- ha, hyung."
"God, you're so gorgeous. Spread out in front of me like this." Yoongi dips his thumb away and replaces it with his finger, being able to slowly ease it all the way to the knuckle as Namjoon relaxes around him. "You open up so well for me."
" Yoongi. "
"Man, praise really gets you going, huh?" Yoongi teases, as he gently pulls Namjoon's cheeks apart just so he can hear the wet slap against each other. "I get why, you deserved to be praised. For this great body you've worked so hard on. You've gotten so big, Namjoon-ah, so beefy. I just want to sink my teeth into you and taste you." He works another finger in alongside, slowly stretching him out and working them out to the tips, then pushing them back in again.
He's worried his words are going too far, but Namjoon pants and cries like he loves it, keeps trying to push his hips back to meet Yoongi's fingers to the best of his ability in the small tub.
Yoongi takes the hint and begins to angle his fingers upwards, searching for Namjoon's prostate and enjoying the way he whimpers as if he's so sensitive it doesn't matter.
He manages to find it, hardly ghosting his fingers against it and Namjoon's arms cave against where he was resting on the edge and fall straight into the water, crying out as he does.
"Holy shit," Yoongi gasps, "Namjoon, are you okay - "
"I told you, 'm sensitive." He whimpers, "Sorry, hyung just, just feels real good. Intense."
"Fuck, don't be sorry." Yoongi groans. "You have no idea what this is doing to me."
"T-trust me, I can imagine." Namjoon stammers out, another whine knocked from him as Yoongi starts to pick up the pace again.
He can't draw his eyes away from the way Namjoon's hips snap back, steadying his hand on the small of his back to try and control the movement a little. The water continues to splash over the sides of the bath but Yoongi doesn't care, hyperfixtated on how good Namjoon looks on his fingers. He can't help but drive his own his forward a little, like his dick is aching with the ghost sensation of fucking Namjoon.
Namjoon is big, but there's pettiness in the curves of his waist and the dips of his spine. The way every inch of his body ripples with pleasure, like water, flowing movements as he's able to flexibly bend himself back onto Yoongi, like he just wants it deeper and deeper.
His body moves with him, tone and defined but still slippery and soft to the touch. Namjoon is soft and beefy and there's so much of him and Yoongi just wants to run his tongue every inch over him.
He leans across the bath, his t-shirt now soaked through, so he can encourage Namjoon's hip movement and angle his fingers so they drum right onto his prostate. Namjoon's body quivers and shakes as he continues to cry out, Yoongi leaning down so he can kiss the small of his back and work his mouth up over his back.
He bites down into the beef of his shoulder and then laps his tongue over the little mark, moving so he can kiss the nape of his neck.
" Yoongi hyung, shit, Yoongi hyung. " Namjoon keeps chanting in between his cries, "fuck, hyung."
"You're so good, Namjoon. I hope you know how good you deserve to feel. Keep fucking yourself back like that, take what you need."
"Shit, hyung. 'M gonna, come, fuck hyung, I think I'm gonna come." Namjoon sneaks a hand down and presumably must begin pumping himself, using his other hand to brace himself against the wall as he begins to tense around Yoongi's fingers. "Shit, shit hyung."
"That's it, come for me, let me see."
And Namjoon does, hard with a shout and Yoongi's name echoing around their little bathroom. His hands fall back into the water with a loud splash as he works himself through it, grinding back onto Yoongi's fingers as he continues to tap against his prostate until Namjoon is whining in oversensitivity.
He sags into the water and Yoongi quickly gathers him into his arms so he can press wet kisses to his neck and comb his hands through his hair. "That's it, Joon-ah, there you go."
"Hyung..." he whimpers, eyes still a little glassy looking.
"I didn't get to see your come face." Yoongi pouts. Namjoon splashes him and Yoongi gasps dramatically, as if he isn't already soaked through.
"Too bad, I guess you'll just have to do it again sometime."
"Can we skip the part where you paint yourself in shit that burns your skin and just do the sex bit next time?"
Yoongi manages to pull Namjoon out of the bath on shaky legs, pointedly not looking at the bath water where the suds have dispersed and there's just some white streaks of - well, yeah- floating about.
Yoongi holds out a fluffy towel and bundles him into it. Planting a nervous kiss on his forehead and then working down to peck his lips, as if he hadn't just given Namjoon an orgasm so powerful that his legs are still shaking.
Namjoon looks all soft, hair slightly wet and sticking up weird. He turns to Yoongi, where he sits nestled between his legs on the bathroom floor.
Yoongi is about to ask what he's doing, but Namjoon is quicker. He surges forward and kisses him, deeper and more instant than the little peck Yoongi had tried to get away with.
Yoongi lets him, making a noise of amusement as he lets Namjoon kiss him a little desperately. He's about to make a comment, until Namjoon's damp and still slick fingers work their way down Yoongi's chest, trailing to grope him through his soaked jeans.
Yoongi's breath hitches.
"Is this okay?" Namjoon pants into his mouth, "I wanna jack you off, is it okay?"
"Romantic." Yoongi snorts, and then says "yes." before Namjoon can get bratty again.
Namjoon nods eagerly, tugging on the back of Yoongi's hair so his face mushes into his neck. Yoongi immediatly starts to kiss it, still in awe how every inch of Namjoon's skin seems to prickle with sensitivity.
Namjoon whines and ruts his hips forward, and Yoongi thinks he can almost feel Namjoon getting hard again against him but the friction is quickly replaced with Namjoon's long fingers. As he pops the buttons open and wastes no time in trying to work Yoongi's jeans and underwear past his thighs.
He can't do it because of the angle, Namjoon grunts in irritation, wedges his arm underneath Yoongi's middle section and quickly lifts Yoongi up for a second and over his shoulder so he can work the tight, wet material past his thighs.
Yoongi chokes on a moan, half in surprise and half in horny because fuck Namjoon is strong. Strong enough to heave Yoongi up with one arm like it's fucking nothing, holy fuck -
Apparently, the lube was a too inconvenient distance away as well, as Namjoon huffs again and spits a glob straight into the palm of his hand. It shouldn't be sexy, lifted up onto Namjoon's strong thighs as he begins to work his large hand over Yoongi's dick with saliva as lube, but it is. Fuck, it's so hot.
Yoongi bites back down on Namjoon's neck and sucks the gasp he'd been holding deep into his skin, as Namjoon starts with a brutal pace. He doesn't seem interested in drawing out, encourging Yoongi to fuck up into his fist by squeezing at the base of it and digging his thumb into the underside of the tip, where Yoongi's most sensetive.
He makes a pathetic little whiny sound which he'll be sure to venomly deny later, as Namjoon keeps working his fist.
"Shit, Namjoon. You feel so good." Namjoon whimpers again at the words, using Yoongi's own thigh to gently nuzzle his half hard dick again. It turns Yoongi on even more, "Easy, boy."
"Sorry." Namjoon pants, "fuck you're just - can't tell you how long I've wanted this."
"Trust me, c-can probably match it." Yoongi gasps out. Namjoon whines again and tugs harder, letting his hand curl into the back of Yoongi's hair so he can pull at it gently, like he's the one wound up and close to coming.
Yoongi groans. "So good, Namjoon. Doing such a good job. At taking care of me."
Namjoon squeezes again and pants. He tilts Yoongi's head up so they can kiss again, bites down on Yoongi's lower lip and swipes his thumb over the top of his dick and it's enough.
Yoongi's orgasm hits him almost by surprise, as hit hurdles through him and pushes out before he can even register it. He cums all over Namjoon's fingers with a hiss of, "shit, shit, fuck. " and keeps coming hard, collapsing into Namjoon as his body shakes against his firm chest.
Namjoon holds him through it, kissing the back of his head and hair until Yoongi pulls back.
"So," Yoongi manages to sputter out, voice still a little shaky. "You wanna go on a coffee date tomorrow? I need to go and rub this in Jimin's face."
Namjoon hums, like he's contemplating. "I don't know, I did have a room viewing scheduled for tomorrow. Should I call one Seokjin-ssi and cancel it?"
Yoongi huffs out a bashful laugh, rising up onto his shaky needs so he can press their foreheads together. "I'd cancel that if I were you. We gotta spend most of the day googling how the fuck to remove paint from carpet."
Namjoon grins. "I couldn't imagine a more romantic first date."
"Well, you better get used to it. You still owe me an orgasm face."
Namjoon laughs. Yoongi openly watches the way his boobs jiggle a bit with the movement. Because he's allowed to look now.
Maybe, 5 years of suffering were worth it after all.