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i wanted the world (but then you came along)

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Namjoon is selfish.

He has come to terms with this part of himself a long time ago, has embraced the hard, bitter reality that he will never stop wanting. He is drowning in his greed; has been ever since that moment he realized underground stages aren’t enough, that the cheers he’d always been met with could intensify further in its volume. That he could have the whole world cheering for him in a thrilling cacophony, if he wanted.

And he wanted it, wanted the fame and the lights and the screams, wanted the name Runch Randa to distort into Rap Monster, because Rap Monster is better; he is more precise, more alluring, more intense in his thirst, in his yearning for more.

(Namjoon thinks he could consume the whole world and still not be satisfied.)

And when the blur of recordings and interviews and 14-hour plane flights are momentarily gone, hidden behind the privacy of hotel rooms or, much rarer these days, their own dorm rooms, Namjoon finds that he can’t quite stay still, wanting that high he only ever gets when people are screaming for him, when he isn’t Namjoon but Rap Monster, all heated gazes and perfected lines in front of the camera.

But Namjoon has learned to cope with this temporary withdrawal, his suppressant taking in the form of pale legs framing his hips, low, breathy grunts against the shell of his ear. Right now, Min Yoongi is under him, head tossed back into the pillows as Namjoon fucks him deep and slow. Yoongi’s skin is hot against Namjoon’s, but inside he is scorching, tight around Namjoon in the most tantalizing of ways.

“Hurry--“ Yoongi’s gasping into his neck, having lifted himself up to grab at Namjoon’s shoulders with shaking fingers. The sudden change in position causes Namjoon’s cock to go even deeper, buried to the hilt with Yoongi’s ass pressed flush against his lap. “Shit-- c’mon, hurry the f-fuck up--“

Namjoon runs his hands down the expanse of Yoongi’s back, settling on either side of his hips to lift him up, dropping him back down on his cock before Yoongi can take another breath. The moan Namjoon is rewarded with punches right through the want low in his belly, gives him that extra boost he needs to repeat the action again and again and again until Yoongi is practically sobbing, burying his sweaty face into the crook of Namjoon’s neck.

“So close, I’m so close--“ Yoongi is mumbling, lips fluttering against Namjoon’s shoulder. He is shaking in Namjoon’s lap, every stretch of muscle going through tremors that Namjoon can feel beneath his fingertips. Namjoon considers stopping, just for a fraction of a moment, just to calm Yoongi down, but Yoongi tenses around him and starts rolling his hips, lifting his head up to look Namjoon in the eye. “Don’t you fucking dare.” he spits, the underlying threat enough for Namjoon to fully relent.

It only takes three drawn-out thrusts of Namjoon’s dick and Yoongi simultaneously pressing down into his lap for Yoongi to come, making Namjoon swallow his groan by kissing him, sloppy and wet. Namjoon follows a second later, when Yoongi deliberately tightens around him, his vision blurring then bursting into a blinding white as he comes into Yoongi in thick, hot spurts.

White noise rings in Namjoon’s ears as Yoongi gets off his lap, the squelch that follows when he pulls out of Yoongi making him groan. He settles facedown into the sheets when he feels more than sees Yoongi scoot away to the edge of the bed.

When his heartbeat has slowed to an almost normal rate and his lungs don’t feel like they’re burning up every time he swallows for air, Namjoon cracks one eye open to find Yoongi studying him in the dim light.

“I should go back.” comes Yoongi’s quiet mumble. Namjoon always forgets that they never share a room, that just as Yoongi is rooming with Seokjin in the dorm, he is paired up with Hoseok or Jimin or anyone else that isn’t Namjoon during their overseas trips. It doesn’t bother him too much, but Namjoon thinks he’d like it better if Yoongi were to stay, even just this once.

So he says it, voice rough but firm as he holds an arm out to Yoongi. “Stay.”

He lets his finger brush against Yoongi’s thigh, savors in the way Yoongi doesn’t even flinch at the intimate gesture. It had taken a while, but Yoongi is used to it by now, the way Namjoon can’t seem to keep his hands to himself, always seeking Yoongi out, even when he’d been buried deep inside him not too long ago.

Yoongi doesn’t say anything back, doesn’t even blink as he watches Namjoon in that silent, brooding way he always does.

“You’re really selfish, you know that?”

Namjoon doesn’t stop drawing circles on Yoongi’s smooth skin. He thinks about the saturated concert lights, about the fame and the scandals that come with it, about the screams and the tears and the overwhelming support of people who he does not even know. Then he thinks about Yoongi, thinks about the way desire had sucker punched him right in the gut when he first laid eyes on him, thinks about Yoongi whimpering against his shoulder, sweatpants caught around his knees as Namjoon jerks him off for the first time, thinks about Yoongi drunk off his orgasm, flushed and lovely and looking at Namjoon like he could devour him whole, if he chose to.

Namjoon meets Yoongi’s gaze with a grin, dimpled and wicked.

“I am.” he says, his hand now on Yoongi’s thigh, warm and inviting. “So stay.”

Yoongi pulls away from his grasp, quietly lifting himself off the bed. He walks off to a part of the room the light doesn’t touch, then comes back with a blanket bunched in his arms a moment later. The mattress dips under his weight as he settles beside Namjoon.

“You might hog the blanket with your greedy ass.” is his only form of explanation as he spreads the blanket out to cover himself with, not once looking at Namjoon. "I’m not risking it.”

His weak excuse goes through one ear and out the other, because Namjoon doesn’t care about that. “You’re staying.” is what he picks up in between Yoongi's words instead, but Yoongi doesn’t bother with a reply anymore. Namjoon is more than okay with this though, the silence caught between them heavy with unspoken words too premature to voice out loud yet.

Someday, Namjoon decides. Someday he will stop confusing his selfishness with his constant ache for Yoongi. Someday he will be able to pick himself apart and take out all the bad before putting himself back together, completely whole and honest and good. Just good, for Yoongi.

But right now, with his arm caught loosely around Yoongi’s waist, their legs tangled together and Namjoon’s nose barely brushing the tops of Yoongi’s hair, he thinks he can be selfish for just a little while longer.