tekken is fun. yeah. it’s fantastic until you’re playing it for two straight hours without getting up to piss, and only one person has been winning for the better part of 80% of the time. to be fair, yoongi sucks at playing asuka, but her accent is the cutest, so he’s at least a little ok with getting pummeled to the ground by hoseok switching between mokujin and hwoarang.
he’s not even really trying at this point, honestly. the game is losing its spark, and he’s already given up on himself and trying to make the bgm stop ringing in his ears. they’ve been on the hidden retreat stage for the better part of an hour, and yoongi would rather stab himself with the jagged edges of the game disk he was about to break than listen to a yodel ever again.
hoseok seems to have somewhere around the same idea because he sniffs and sets down his controller after winning. again.
"i have an idea. if you lose, you have to touch my dick."
"just don't lose, and then you don’t have to worry about it."
and hoseok knows he won’t lose, so it’s a lost point. what a little bitch. even yoongi knows that hoseok won't lose, but he has to look at least a little like he hasn’t already resigned to his ill fate. the ‘player select’ screen stalls in the background. maybe he should pick someone else this time.
"what do i get if i win."
"if you win?"
"nah, if your hamster wins. yes, me."
"then i’ll touch yours instead."
he doesn't say anything, but thinks ‘fair enough’, and they start the round. yoongi picks xiaoyu this time. also a cutie. 10/10.
yoongi tries. like, he tries really hard, and even though xiaoyu is definitely easier to maneuver than asuka ever was, her health is declining fast. he loses the first round, terribly, but the second round is a close win. maybe he has a chance after all. which is a great thought for about five seconds into the third round because after that, hoseok backs him against the stage wall and fucks him up with some kind of combo that probably doesn’t even exist. what a huge cheater. so unfair.
yoongi is almost stomping his feet when ‘player one wins!’ booms out of the speakers, and the grin that’s stretched across hoseok’s face makes yoongi want to punch all of his teeth out. he doesn’t. the younger sets his controller to the side, and leans back against the base of the bed, all smug and spread out.
yoongi hits him in the knee. hard. he really doesn't want to do this. not when hoseok looks so satisfied with himself. "best out of three?"
"it won't matter anyway." shut the fuck up, hoseok. "you can touch me, i don't bite. down there."
"this is really gay."
"you're really gay."
"are you sure you want this?"
yoongi moves, eventually, coming forward to sit cross-legged in front of the other boy. just so he doesn’t have to reach his arms too far. he’s unsure of himself, not opposed to touching hoseok's peen, but he also hadn’t planned on doing it ever, so. that was a thing. he refuses to initiate eye contact, initiating it with the zipper of hoseok’s pants instead, trying to quell some of the shaking in his fingers.
which ends up being not that big of a deal because they weren’t that hard to unzip, and soon enough, the younger is shimmying out of them. for ‘more flexibility’. yeah, ok.
"only through the underwear. cool?"
hoseok’s expression softens when he nods, the movement rustling his bangs. he flicks them out of his eyes with another head flick, but it ends up making it worse. yoongi moves them out of the way instead, hand pushing roughly over his forehead to comb the hair back.
“better, princess?” despite the clarity of his voice, yoongi's hand is still shaking when he lays his palm on hoseok's crotch. he gives it a trial squeeze or two before he's confident enough to grope it for size. he wants to ask if he’s done, if that’s enough dick touching for one round of getting fucked up in a video game, but the noises the other makes are so?
different, but not uncharacteristic.
they’re accidental; cut-off gasps and fragments of groans. he’s stifling them, but not with his hand, and the way he dusts a pretty red over his cheeks, eyebrows furrowing, is kind of cute.
only kind of.
“you ok, hobi? i can stop.”
it takes him a while before he can trust his voice enough to say something, as brief as it is. “don’t.”
yoongi scoots closer.
he removes his hand to put them both on hoseok’s hips and drag himself forward, so that his thighs were over the younger’s thighs, and their pelvises were still a Safe distance away. “c’mere.”
hoseok leans forward, and yoongi uses the momentum to knock their foreheads together painfully. the intimacy is a little suffocating and a little uncomfortable, but they’re friends. it’s ok to be close to your friend when you’re ‘bonding’, right? yoongi doesn’t think on it too long before putting his hand back. hoseok is warm under yoongi’s fingers, and he kind of wants to look down and watch him get hard, but that’d be weird, and also hoseok is breathing hot air against his lips, and his breath surprisingly doesn’t smell like something died in his mouth. what a relief. yoongi can only focus on one thing at a time.
it gets kind of hard to get the right grip after a while, but yoongi promised himself that he wouldn’t do it. that he wouldn’t actually touch hoseok’s dick. it’s so, so difficult to keep that promise with himself though, and his fingers find themselves toying at the other’s waistband.
hoseok, on the other end, is having a hard time being quiet. he’s a mouthy guy, can’t even touch himself unless no one’s home or he’s blasting music in the shower because he just can’t keep it down. and yoongi isn’t even really touching him, not in a way that makes him want to shout (although he would if it’d make the elder actually grab him), but just the fact that it’s yoongi, of all people, has him a little heated.
he doesn’t even know what he was trying to get out of daring the elder to touch him, but a handjob is definitely cool.
however, hoseok knows what he wants right now, and he brings one of his own hands, one of the ones scrabbling against the hardwood, up to move yoongi’s palm through the slit of his boxers. “can i?”
not like he didn’t already do it or anything.
yoongi's surprised, although he looks more than he actually feels. hoseok in the flesh is so hot under his hand, warm and throbbing and real. he takes his hand out, using both of them to tug the other's underwear out from under his ass. it's a joint effort, but a mess of one, and they both sigh in relief when hobi's dick flops out. his boxers are caught under his knees, but yoongi doesn't want to move, so that's an action for another day.
now that yoongi can see it fully, he gets his eyeful. hoseok looks like something yoongi would want in his mouth, nice and thick in a way that would fill him up and press at the back of his throat. he gulps. trying not to spend too much time looking, yoongi flicks his eyes back up to hoseok's face, a little smirk gracing his own when he sees the way he’s falling apart. but his interest is only in a friendly competitive way. because they’re friends, and this is a casual arrangement. even though they haven’t really talked about it. they should do that sometime.
once yoongi’s got a proper grip, he goes to work. it’s different, holding a dick from the opposite direction, but it works just about the same way, and he starts to do the things he likes on himself. hoseok guides him through it; tells him where to squeeze more, squeeze less, almost presses their lips together (on accident!!!) when yoongi digs his thumb into the slit. yoongi could almost consider himself a hoesok pro by the time hoseok’s pawing at the front of his jeans. but like, why.
“what are you doing?”
that’s kind of tough to argue with, so yoongi just shrugs and lets him. he’s the one that lost the wager, but wasn’t about to complain about getting the perks. and he had also been pretending that he wasn’t getting hard listening to his friend get off for the past five minutes, so it works out swimmingly.
hoseok’s fingers on his length feel different than laying on his arm at night. way different, but good different, and yoongi’s biting back whines, letting them still in the back of his throat and go down again. he’s kind of loud himself, but like hell he’s about to be louder than jung fucking hoseok. it almost becomes a competition, who can get the other off first, but yoongi doesn't want his dick chafed, and he's really, really loving the way hoseok's hand drags slow and tight around him instead of the alternative, grip briefly tightening at the base on its way back up. his hand feels so good that yoongi scoots even closer, threatening the sanctity of the space in between their crotches, and rests his forehead on hoseok’s shoulder instead.
it's not gay if the dicks don't touch. that’s what he’s been telling himself at least.
hoseok makes some kind of noise in the back of his throat, surprised, but keeps his hand moving. bless this child.
it’s like they’re finishing each other’s sentences in the sense that neither of them can complete a coherent thought without gasping, or moaning, or any other embarrassing equivalent. and it would actually be embarrassing if it weren’t mutually embarrassing, so both of them just bask in their loudness, hoseok lowkey crying about how hot it is that yoongi’s whining in his ear like that.
he gets close a little after, but yoongi beats him to it, freezing up with half a warning and spilling over hoseok’s hand and wrist. he squeezes too hard, accidently, whole body strung out, and the combination of making his friend come and getting manhandled has hoseok’s hips stuttering as he rides out his own orgasm. he also makes a really loud groan, but we don’t talk about That.
yoongi has enough energy to unhook their legs about a minute or two later, rolling onto his side and making sure not to touch anything with his plague-ridden jizz hand. what a ride.
sweaty and a little out of breath, hoseok asks, "another round?"
"wash your hands first, you filthy fucking animal. they're your controllers, but it's my state of mind."
"yeah, yeah." instead of washing his hands, hoseok wipes them on the inside of his boxers and stands up to get a new pair, the old ones slipping the rest of the way down his legs and to the ground.
yoongi does it too, figuring it wouldn't change anything, and puts himself back in his pants. he feels slack, and more pleased with losing than he was originally. hell, he’s just pleased in general, warm in his afterglow, and not really too keen on another round of tekken hell.
plopping back down next to him, hoseok leans a head on yoongi’s shoulder. his head, to be exact. “or we could just netflix and chill?”
yoongi punches him right in the stomach. bye world, it was a nice run.
they netflix sans the chill.