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“Really?” Hoseok let out a high-pitched giggle. “My ankle?”
Nobody else had been paying attention to them before, and nobody looked up now, either. They were all used to Hoseok laughing loudly, and maybe even more than that, Hoseok laughing loudly at Namjoon.
“Well it is,” Namjoon said.
“But everyone else just did—” Hoseok was untying his shoe anyway, loosening the laces, hooking a finger under his sock to slide his heel out. His shoe fell to the floor and Namjoon resisted the urge to help pull his sock the rest of the way off.
The others may have been off in their own worlds currently, but they were still in the room, and no matter how permissive the members were of what the rest of them got up to with each other, touching Hoseok’s feet while very obviously having horny thoughts about them while in a hotel lounge waiting for a car to take them to their next destination would probably be crossing a line.
But, taking and then posting a photo of Hoseok’s bare ankle was definitely crossing a line, and he was doing it anyway, so.
Hoseok peeled his sock off the rest of the way and tucked it neatly into his empty shoe.
“How do you want to…?”
Namjoon blinked. There was Hoseok’s pretty little foot, red in places from where his shoe had pressed against it, and looking very exposed in a way that Namjoon knew it wouldn’t if they were all just walking around barefoot. It was the fact that everyone else was wearing shoes, and that it was just one foot, and that Namjoon had asked for this little bit of undressing in public, and Hoseok had done it. That made it feel more like Hoseok’s foot was naked, like it had been disrobed, and made Namjoon have to stop himself from dropping to his knees to kiss it, to drag his lips from his arch to the hollow inside his slender, well-formed ankle.
When Namjoon looked up, he could see that something had changed on Hoseok’s face. He knew what this was doing to Namjoon. On the other side of the room, a squeaky laugh rang out, followed by the comfortable, familiar sound of overlapping voices.
“You gonna take the picture?” Hoseok asked, his voice low. He looked sleepy and focused, and Namjoon felt his whole chest swoop—still—when he remembered he knew what that expression meant. Hoseok shifted where he sat, always unselfconscious even as he spread his thighs just enough to draw Namjoon’s eyes to where his sweatpants had grown slightly tighter.
“Yes,” Namjoon said, after clearing his throat.
“What part of my ankle d’you want? This side? This side?” Hoseok turned his foot back and forth, his toes pointed in the air in front of him, then wiggling back into a more natural position.
“Actually… can you just stay… right, like that.” Namjoon wanted to capture the front of Hoseok’s ankle, a strange and pretty shape that would be hard to identify out of context. Hoseok froze in place so Namjoon could get a good shot. Namjoon bit the inside of his lip, and he didn’t kiss the cute red splotch above Hoseok’s foot, more evidence of a shoe rubbing at his skin. He took the photo instead.
📸
Through the crack in the barely open single occupancy bathroom door, Namjoon watched as Hoseok walked down the hall toward him, looking around slightly nervously, and then locked his eyes with Namjoon suddenly and struggled to keep a straight face. He gave one last look up and down the hallway and, finding no one, let himself be pulled into the bathroom with Namjoon.
“Wow,” he said, turning the lock behind him. “Why does this bathroom smell so good?”
“Because we’re in a hotel.”
“So fancy!”
They were facing each other, touching each other’s arms and waists and chests because they could, in the safety and secrecy of a locked room. Namjoon, still embarrassingly turned on about Hoseok’s pretty ankles and Hoseok, seemingly just as riled up, because Namjoon was.
Hoseok looked up at Namjoon the way he always did when he wanted to be kissed, from under his eyelashes, shyly. He was leaned against the edge of the counter in front of the sink, and Namjoon leaned against him, their pelvises pressing together.
It didn’t feel like they were in a bathroom, when Namjoon closed the space between them and kissed the freckle on Hoseok’s upper lip, and Hoseok’s hands slid up Namjoon’s sides to tug on his shirt. It was incredible, Namjoon thought, how the gentle nudge of Hoseok’s pretty nose against his own could make him forget where he was. He didn’t think he’d ever get tired of it.
Hoseok opened his mouth and breathed out a soft sound. Namjoon’s hand had snaked between them, tracing the line of Hoseok’s half-hard cock through the front of his sweatpants, then tugging at the elastic waistband enough to get his fingers underneath it.
When Namjoon felt Hoseok’s hand start to slide around to his front too, he grabbed his wrist to stop him. Gently guided his hand back, higher up.
“Sorry,” Namjoon said, when Hoseok made a frustrated little noise. “Just want to… only you.”
“Mm… okay.” Hoseok flattened his hands on the counter on either side of himself, tilted his head back so Namjoon could kiss down his throat. Namjoon reached with his hand, followed the heat of Hoseok’s cock until he could wrap his fingers around it, felt the vibration of Hoseok’s corresponding sounds under his lips, saw Hoseok’s hands twitch on the counter, but they stayed there. His hips squirmed, pushing himself more certainly into Namjoon’s grip, and Namjoon had to move his own hips back a little so he wouldn’t be tempted to grind against his own fist.
God, Hoseok was so fucking sexy the way he tried to get leverage to fuck better into Namjoon’s hand, lifted a leg around Namjoon’s hip then lowered it again because the angle wasn’t right, grunted, let Namjoon kiss his mouth, bite his lip a little so he made a soft sound of surprise and throbbed hard in Namjoon’s hand. He was wet, precome slippery and copious where Namjoon’s thumb pushed over the head of his cock, and he whimpered.
“Fuck,” he said under his breath. “That’s so good, I—” Namjoon kissed the words out of his mouth and used his unoccupied hand to push up Hoseok’s shirt, high up over his chest.
“Hold your shirt up,” he said. “Don’t want anything to get on it.” Hoseok let out a whine, a tight release of air that Namjoon breathed in, and he did what he had been told, reached a hand up to hold his shirt out of the way, as high as the base of his throat. Namjoon remembered to pull back and look.
Hoseok was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling, all lean muscle and dark nipples and a cute layer of softness around his belly that Namjoon wanted to bite into.
“You always look,” Hoseok said. He was out of breath. Namjoon laughed, sounding just as breathless.
“I like to see,” he said, then gave Hoseok’s cock a slow pump, watching his face, watching Hoseok’s teeth dig into his lower lip, his eyelids flutter, his forehead crease.
“God,” Namjoon breathed, almost without meaning to. Hoseok throbbed in his hand again and blushed all the way down to his chest. His cock was dark and swollen as it pushed into Namjoon’s fist, his foreskin pulled back to reveal where he was wet and shiny and purple. Namjoon’s mouth watered, and Hoseok whined and rolled his hips, watching Namjoon watch a fat pearl of precome as it spilled down over the puffy curve of his cockhead.
“Gonna come,” Hoseok choked out, and Namjoon felt himself make a low rumbling sound somewhere in his chest a moment before Hoseok grit his teeth around what would otherwise have been a loud moan, jerking hard in Namjoon’s hand and coming in hot white stripes over his exposed belly.
Namjoon found he was biting his tongue as he watched Hoseok’s whole body soften, all the tension gone, his sharp edges replaced with soft wet skin and loose joints and half-closed eyes.
Often, when Hoseok came, Namjoon was hit with the same sudden clarity that usually only accompanied his own orgasms. His own physical need ebbed away gently, like the tide going out, like he had come too and was ready for bed. Hoseok’s body was there in front of him, draped loosely over the counter, and they were in a single-occupancy hotel bathroom, and Hoseok was panting lightly, covered in his own come and looking up at Namjoon sleepily. His eyes were charmingly tilted and his mouth was slightly open. He was…
I love you. The thought floated through Namjoon’s head involuntarily, a fully articulated sentence behind his eyes. He swallowed against the urge to speak, his heart hammering in his throat. I’m in love with you. I love you.
It was like now he’d had the thought, he couldn’t stop having it.
Hoseok smiled softly and Namjoon’s stomach flipped.
“I’m a mess,” Hoseok said, looking down at himself with a little snort.
“Yeah,” Namjoon agreed. “But—”
“Is this a good look?” Hoseok asked, his lips twitching. “Should I go back out there like this?” He wiggled his shoulders and batted his eyelashes, and Namjoon burst out laughing. Hoseok pointed frantically to the door, eyes comically wide, a finger to his lips. Namjoon stifled his giggles; Hoseok was right.
📸
“Your feet are so pretty.”
“Yeah?”
“You know they are.”
“Because you’ve told me a million times.”
Namjoon leaned forward and kissed the tip of Hoseok’s second toe. It was slightly longer than his big toe, like the foot on an ancient Roman statue. But tiny and cute, like Hoseok. Hobi.
“I thought my ankles were your favorite.”
“Them too.”
They were in Namjoon’s room, this time. Hoseok always said he liked how whatever room Namjoon stayed in ended up smelling just like him, so they often ended up there.
Hoseok was naked. He lounged further up the bed, always unselfconscious even as Namjoon looked up at him from such an odd angle down by his feet, up past the gentle curves of his calves, the long stretch of his slender thighs, and everything soft and delicate exposed between them. Hoseok never so much as blushed about anything like nudity, but sometimes, Namjoon knew, if he just…
He made eye contact with Hoseok, gaze flickering up from where his soft cock sat nestled cutely in his pubic hair. Hoseok blinked, and Namjoon nuzzled his nose into the ball of his foot, the space under his toes, kissed along his arch until he reached his ankle, left a kiss there with his open mouth, like he’d wanted to do in the hotel lounge earlier, tasted salt on his tongue, and there—now Hoseok was blushing.
They’d already fucked, once, not to mention the handjob in the bathroom, and Namjoon could see the faint shine of lube where Hoseok’s ass peeked out from under him. Namjoon already wanted him again. They couldn’t seem to keep their hands off each other these days.
Namjoon kept kissing up, up, along Hoseok’s calf, leg hair tickling his lips and nose, up to the inside of his knee, up until he reached his warm, smooth inner thigh. Hoseok was making sweet little sounds of contentment and Namjoon’s heart beat in his ears. His chest felt warm.
He kissed over Hoseok’s balls, his spent cock that was only just beginning to stir again. Hoseok’s thighs cradled Namjoon’s face, gently, and Namjoon felt it again, the pounding of his own heart, pushing at his throat. Hoseok’s hand reached softly into Namjoon’s hair, stroked his head, and Namjoon closed his eyes and took a deep inhale.
Hoseok. I love him.
Namjoon felt... unmoored... as he trailed kisses up the center of Hoseok’s body, Hoseok’s hand cupping the base of his skull as Namjoon took a meandering detour to plant kisses on his nipples, wet and a little sharp, because he knew Hoseok liked teeth, there. Hoseok moaned, always responsive under Namjoon’s tongue and between his teeth.
His mouth was open when Namjoon reached high enough to kiss it, his lips flushed dark with blood and his eyes a little wild.
Is it always going to be like this with him? Is this why it’s always like this with him?
Namjoon was wondering these things, which had certainly drifted through the back of his mind before, he could admit that, but floated to the forefront now as he kissed both of Hoseok’s lips and then the glimpse of his teeth that was visible, so Hoseok giggled a little. And when Namjoon reached his tongue into Hoseok’s mouth it was received so tenderly, the way Hoseok stroked Namjoon’s tongue with his own so Namjoon was suddenly very aware of the rest of his own body, that his own nipples were hard and his balls were drawing up tight. Hoseok’s fingertips were trailing down his sides, and Namjoon’s cock was getting heavy again, pressed against Hoseok’s thigh, and now Hoseok’s hand was there too.
“Why are you so sexy?” Hoseok said, voice low, loosely cradling Namjoon’s cock in his hand. Namjoon just kissed him again, just rocked his hips into Hoseok’s hand, but he wasn’t holding tight enough. There was a little sound in Hoseok’s throat and Namjoon wanted to inhale it.
“You are,” Namjoon said, not really paying attention to what he was saying.
“What time is it,” Hoseok said, his hand still loosely caressing Namjoon’s cock like he was trying to make a mental map of its contours, his fingers tracing idle patterns until Namjoon heard a frustrated noise leave his own mouth. Hoseok hummed and pet a fingertip over Namjoon’s slit, slippery. Apparently he had just leaked quite a lot.
“I don’t know,” Namjoon said. He felt far away. He trailed his fingers over Hoseok’s hip up to his waist, squeezed his fingertips between the bed and his lower back. “Are you tired?”
“No.” Then Hoseok breathed out “fuck” and reached one of his own hands, the one that wasn’t still caressing Namjoon’s cock, underneath him. When Namjoon let his own fingers travel further down, he could feel that Hoseok was holding himself open against the bed, pulling soft divots into the flesh of his ass so his hole was within easy reach. Namjoon traced it with his middle finger. Soft, loose, tacky-wet from the lube earlier, and slippery-wet from Namjoon’s come when he pressed his finger past the gentle clench of Hoseok’s relaxed rim. Hoseok gasped quietly, a sound that Namjoon could feel in the faint twitch of his insides around his finger.
Namjoon kissed the open red heart of his mouth, licked into it, felt a shudder at the nape of his neck when Hoseok whined and let his jaw fall open wider. It was easy to push two fingers inside him down between his thighs, too, to feel where his body split around Namjoon’s hand. Hoseok squirmed and spread his legs. Fuck he was sexy. Pretty. Open everywhere. Letting Namjoon make room for himself inside him, everywhere inside him, as much room as he wanted.
Namjoon thought he might come from nothing, from the tickle of Hoseok’s tongue and the dull click of their teeth nudging together. Hoseok squeezed his hand tight around Namjoon’s cock and Namjoon felt the muscles in his abdomen spasm a little. He pulled back to breathe, just the slightest distance.
“Why do I want you so bad,” Hoseok murmured, whiny, his head reaching up off the bed to brush their lips together again. “Why can’t I stop…”
There was a split second where Namjoon almost had the presence of mind to wonder what Hoseok meant by that, and then Hoseok was moving, pulling himself off Namjoon’s fingers with a sharp intake of breath and rearranging the two of them on the bed so Namjoon’s back pressed into the sheets that Hoseok’s body had made warm, and Hoseok climbed over Namjoon’s hips and loomed over him, his hands splayed over Namjoon’s ribs.
Namjoon’s gaze followed the long slender line of Hoseok’s body up until he met his eyes, and his heartbeat pounded in his ears so loud he thought maybe Hoseok could hear it. His hand found its way over Hoseok’s thigh and hip, the gentle swell of his ass, and when he touched the puffy pucker of his rim again, Hoseok’s eyelashes fluttered. He pushed back against Namjoon’s hand.
“Three fingers,” Hoseok said. “Will you...” He whined again when Namjoon obliged, pulling his hand back first so he could slip it under Hoseok rather than behind him, pressing three fingertips against his hole and then squeezing two inside, pushing the third in between so it would fit.
“Oh,” Hoseok said, his voice low and breathy. His cock was drooling prettily, clear shiny fluid that Namjoon wanted to drink, and his mouth stayed open and his insides were hot and tight and quivering around Namjoon’s careful fingers. “Mm, that’s… fuck, I—” Hoseok rode Namjoon’s hand slow and deliberately, and Namjoon pushed and stroked wherever Hoseok seemed to need him to, pressed the heel of his palm into his taint, and then Hoseok interrupted his own moan to ask, “Can you put your dick in me?”
I love you, Namjoon thought again, and then he blinked a couple times rapidly like maybe it could stop Hoseok from seeing his thoughts where they were written on his face. Namjoon breathed heavy while Hoseok waited for his answer. But Namjoon was afraid, now, of what Hoseok might see if they…
Then he felt the wiggle of Hoseok’s toes where they were tucked under his thighs, along with a surge of warmth in his chest that confusingly was matched exactly in his cock.
“Can you turn around?” he asked.
It was impossible not to be a little clumsy, turning around like this, and it was impossible for Hoseok’s foot not to pass in front of Namjoon’s face, so he grabbed it, knocking Hoseok off balance. He squeaked and caught himself on the bed and one of Namjoon’s thighs.
“Namjoonah!” Hoseok had tilted half onto the bed. So Namjoon gave his foot a kiss, nuzzled his toes with his cheek, then let go. “You’re so obsessed with my feet,” Hoseok said with a giggle as he arranged himself over Namjoon’s cock, which bumped against his thighs and ass as he did so.
“Yeah, I love them,” Namjoon said, stroking a finger down one of the long tendons that flexed as Hoseok dug his toes into the bed, facing away. Then he froze, and so did Hoseok, for a moment, as they both made mentally sure that Namjoon had said he loved Hoseok’s feet specifically. Not Hoseok, as a whole. But he had clearly been talking about his feet, so they both unfroze rather quickly, Namjoon’s heart still racing.
Hoseok made a little sound, like half a laugh, then he reached down and slid the thick, dripping head of Namjoon’s cock over his asshole, which was gaping slightly. Namjoon watched as he was pushed inside, widening that impossibly small hole, his own come just barely easing the way. Hoseok was making these breathy little grunts, leaning forward as he reached back, his hand holding the base of Namjoon’s cock shaking slightly. Namjoon added his own hand, and Hoseok whimpered. With his other hand, Namjoon smoothed his thumb over one of Hoseok’s heels where it was pressed alongside his hip. Fuck he loved him.
Hoseok moaned, loudly, and swore. “Oh my god, oh my—” Then he made a breathless sound like he was surprised, and clenched up insanely tight around Namjoon’s cock, a shiver traveling so powerfully down his back that Namjoon could see his muscles spasm. Hoseok cried out, rocked back onto Namjoon’s cock once, twice, and Namjoon moaned, and then there was an unmistakable splash of warm-wet over his thighs. Hoseok was panting, his long pretty back rising and falling, his feet squeezing into Namjoon’s sides and then releasing.
“Um, did you just,” Namjoon said without meaning to. Hoseok let out a little whimper. He leaned forward, and Namjoon choked. Hoseok’s hole was obscenely stretched, flushed dark and swollen and squeezing Namjoon’s cock so tight when he bent over that it was practically strangling him. Every knob of his spine stood out, painted pale by the hotel room lighting.
“Yeah, fuck,” Hoseok answered. “Ah, don’t want you to stop though just… a second…”
There was no danger of Namjoon wanting to stop, either. He hadn’t even considered stopping as an option, and he felt kind of bad about that for a split second, now that Hoseok had mentioned it. “I won’t stop.”
After only a few seconds of catching his breath, Hoseok started moving again, and Namjoon watched the hot flash of red peek out from Hoseok’s insides as his asshole clung to Namjoon’s cock, then Hoseok lowered himself, then pulled off almost all the way again, shakily.
This was one of Namjoon’s favorite Hoseoks: Hoseok fucking himself on Namjoon’s cock after he’d already come once, when he was all soft everywhere and moaning and grunting with exertion and exhaustion as much as with pleasure. With Hoseok, there was always some blurriness between when he was sleepy and when he was horny, and Namjoon liked to fuck him until he couldn’t tell why his eyelids were heavy and his breathing was slow and his muscles were slack. Hoseok must have liked it too.
And even though Namjoon could touch both of Hoseok’s feet in this position like he’d wanted, could smooth his thumbs over his soft heels and press his fingertips into his ankles, he remembered why he usually liked to be closer to the rest of Hoseok when they fucked, close enough to kiss him.
A drop of sweat rolled down from the nape of Hoseok’s neck and Namjoon watched it travel down his back, along the soft contours of muscle that moved like water, every part of him always working together so gracefully, even when he was ripping sloppy whines from his own throat from how deep into his guts he was shoving Namjoon’s cock.
Namjoon heard himself moan and he kicked his hips up off the bed just a little, enough to push a whimpered “fuck” out of Hoseok’s mouth. The sweat drop he’d been watching caught gently in the cleft of Hoseok’s ass and Namjoon lost track of it.
“Hobah,” he said quietly.
“Mm?” Hoseok was out of breath.
“Can you turn back around?” Namjoon was idly touching Hoseok’s calves, his Achilles tendons.
“Yeah?”
“Mm.”
This time, Namjoon didn’t grab at Hoseok’s feet because he was too busy watching him pull off his cock, which looked obscene and massive sliding out of Hoseok’s cute little ass to slap heavy and slick against Namjoon’s stomach.
Hoseok didn’t sit down again when he’d reoriented himself; instead he lay carefully down on Namjoon’s chest, reaching back behind himself to squeeze Namjoon inside again. Namjoon bent his knees to help. Hoseok’s half-hard cock pressed warm and tender into Namjoon’s belly, intimate and secret like when he let Namjoon kiss the soles of his feet.
Is this okay? Namjoon thought. It was a thought he hadn’t had, not when it came to sex with the members, for years. His eyes were closed when Hoseok’s lips found his, and he felt it in Hoseok’s tongue, that he was there too, with him, wherever he was. Not wondering if this was okay so much as being fairly certain that it was not, but doing it anyway because it was impossible not to.
Hoseok’s fingertips pressed into Namjoon’s face, careful like he was trying to hold him in place, but gently, delicately. He rode him slow, the tight hot friction of him working over and over Namjoon’s cock until Namjoon couldn’t think straight, could no longer remember what he was worried about, what his question had been. He only knew to keep his mouth open for Hoseok’s tongue, which slipped inside between sharp bites and sucking kisses to his lips, and Namjoon felt like he was the one who was being fucked, the one whose insides were raw and exposed and peeking out in hot flashes of red for Hoseok to see even as it was his cock pushing sweet little grunts out of Hoseok’s mouth in time with the movements of their hips.
Namjoon’s orgasm crept up on him; he must have been close for a long time without even realizing it. And he knew it was okay to come inside Hoseok, because it always was, but he still wanted him to know. “I’m coming,” he gasped against Hoseok’s mouth, his voice hushed.
“Mm yeah,” Hoseok said, then he tightened up even more inside and Namjoon knew he was doing it on purpose, and that was so fucking sexy, and then Namjoon was coming in quick wet pulses so deep inside Hoseok’s body that, absurdly, he wondered for a split second if he’d be able to taste it in his mouth.
“Fuck, Namj’nah,” Hoseok murmured, whiny. “Wanna come too, I’m close…” His cock was hot and hard against Namjoon’s belly. Heavy. Namjoon shuddered through an aftershock. Hoseok was humping back on Namjoon’s softening, oversensitive cock and forward against the muscles of his abdomen, and Namjoon wanted to make him come this way, huddled against his chest and dripping with the messes that Namjoon had left inside him.
Another shudder squeezed its way through Namjoon’s body starting with his head. He could never get tired of this, of getting to see Hoseok like this, getting to guide him along through this pleasure, the insane closeness of all their wet skin slipping together, the insane privilege of being with Hoseok this way, knowing him in these moments.
Namjoon wanted to hold onto this, to him. He loved him.
He smoothed his hands down Hoseok’s back, over his sharp shoulder blades and ribs to the soft taper of his little waist to the curve of his hips, his ass. Hoseok shivered when Namjoon touched him where he was wet and sticky with two of Namjoon’s orgasms, easing his own spent cock out of Hoseok to replace it with his fingers. Three. Hoseok choked on a gasp.
I love you, Namjoon thought.
He badly wanted to call Hoseok baby. He wanted to call him sweetheart. “Hobah,” he said instead, and it didn’t come out sounding much different. He felt self-conscious, but Hoseok only kissed him again and quivered around his fingers, his moans sounding increasingly desperate as he fucked back onto Namjoon’s hand. Namjoon stroked directly over his prostate, trying to keep his touch so light it could have been a tickle.
“Holy shit,” Hoseok was saying. His whole body was vibrating and Namjoon’s belly was wet. With a frustrated noise, Hoseok pushed himself up with his hands on Namjoon’s chest and Namjoon watched the reveal of his body, long and lovely, his cock jutting out in front of him, angry and dark and twitching in the air whenever Namjoon curled his fingers. Hoseok pushed back using his hands for leverage and Namjoon let his free hand wander up to wrap loose around Hoseok’s cock.
Hoseok rocked from one of Namjoon’s hands to the other, his mouth open on a long continuous moan that turned into a yelp when Namjoon fucked his fingers inside him particularly deep. Back and forth, back and forth. Then Hoseok tipped his head back and flexed all the muscles Namjoon could see.
“I’m gonna come,” he said breathlessly. “Fuck gonna come on you.”
“Yes, fuck, wanna feel it, want you all over me,” Namjoon heard himself babble.
“Yeah?”
“Please baby I need it, c’mon.”
“Ah fuck Namjoon I’m, I’m—oh, ohhh…” Namjoon watched transfixed as Hoseok’s cock jerked hard in his hand, watched the wet arcs of his orgasm that splattered over his own chest. He startled a little when one spurt hit his chin.
“Ahhh, fuck,” Hoseok groaned, panting and barely opening his eyes to look down at Namjoon. “ Fuuu-uck…” he said again, long and drawn out enough for there to be room for something like a laugh in the middle, then he lowered himself onto Namjoon’s chest, tucked his nose into Namjoon’s neck, and moaned.
The sound, one of relief and contentment, Namjoon thought, vibrated around and through him. “Yeah?” he asked.
“Mhmmm,” came Hoseok’s response. Namjoon’s fingers were still partway inside him and he could feel the trembles of little aftershocks. He let his hand slide away, carefully, and Hoseok clenched up for a second like he wanted to keep him there, then relaxed. Namjoon moved to wipe his fingers on his own thigh, but it was already wet from when Hoseok had come before. He felt a little dizzy.
“So good at fuckin’ me,” Hoseok was murmuring right below Namjoon’s ear. “The best, mm…” Namjoon kissed his hair, and Hoseok made a sweet little sound, wiggled against him. Sometimes he got like this after sex, loose and vulnerable with his compliments and his reactions in a way he never was when they weren’t plastered together in a pool of each other’s fluids. Namjoon wondered what it would take for Hoseok to be like this all the time, or even if he’d want him to be. Would it change his personality too fundamentally if he were less guarded, if all his carefully fortified walls required less careful chipping away to get inside?
“What’re you thinkin’ ’bout,” Hoseok said, his mouth smearing the words into the sweat on Namjoon’s neck.
“You,” Namjoon said. There was a pause.
“What about me?”
I love you, Namjoon didn’t say. I’m in love with you.
“You’re the best at fucking me too,” he said instead. It was true, after all.
“Really?” Hoseok raised his head to look Namjoon in the eye and asked it with so much genuine surprise in his voice that Namjoon laughed.
“Yeah...”
There was more silence, during which Namjoon watched Hoseok’s face, and Hoseok blushed, and looked pleased with himself for a moment, and then opened his mouth slightly, like he was going to say something. His forehead creased, then softened again. He closed his mouth. The freckle on his upper lip stood out and Namjoon felt another little flutter in his chest at how close he was allowed to get to Hoseok’s pretty mouth.
It drew away when Hoseok pressed up from Namjoon’s body, gingerly lifting himself off the bed and shivering at the loss of body heat, the room’s cool air hitting skin wet with sweat and come.
“’m gonna shower.” Hoseok’s arms were wrapped around his middle. He really had such a pretty body, the way it was sharp in some places and soft in others, and it made Namjoon feel warm that he was so matter of fact about showering in his room, even though it was really just another hotel room that didn’t belong to either of them.
“D’you wanna stay over?” Namjoon asked. Hoseok made an affirmative little sound, a tiny dimple appearing by his mouth, before he turned to walk away. It had been a while since Namjoon had been afraid to ask Hoseok to stay over, and it had been even longer since Hoseok had almost always just snuck away to sleep in his own hotel room and it would have been pointless to ask at all.
Now, Hoseok walked quickly to the bathroom, hips swaying gently. Namjoon let his eyes travel down his back and over his ass to his legs, watched his heels lift from the carpet, watched the backs of those lovely ankles disappear through the doorway. Then he stayed where he was for a while, listening to the sound of Hoseok showering, and wondering what he had decided not to say.
📸
It was several months before Namjoon thought again about that picture he had taken of Hoseok’s ankle, or even remembered that he had done so at all. A busy several months of touring and writing and sleeping in what felt like a million different places, and sometimes waking up to the sweet smell of Hoseok’s warm body next to him, but just as often waking up alone, or with one of the others, also warm and sweet in all their different ways.
Sometimes Namjoon spent long stretches of time thinking about what that meant, his love for each of them, and his desire for them, and how all that could coexist with the hot, glowing ember in his chest that belonged to Hoseok only. Sometimes he could feel it, burning the back of his throat.
“Yaaa,” Yoongi’s amused, exasperated voice drifted over to where Namjoon was trying to finish writing a verse he’d been stuck on for days. “What’s this, Namjoonah?”
“What?”
Yoongi walked over, biting his lips to keep from laughing, and holding his phone out in front of him. Jimin was running to catch up and looked over Yoongi’s shoulder, then tilted his head to one side. “What’s that? Wait wh—” Then he burst out laughing and promptly tripped over a chair.
“What, what?” Now Hoseok was pushing himself up from where he’d been sitting at a different table in the lounge. It was his birthday, and he’d been busy on his phone, replying to messages from family and friends. “Oh, is that—oh yeah! Namjoonah, your photo of—”
“Is that your knee?” Jimin called out through giggles.
“Ankle,” Yoongi said.
“Ankle?” Namjoon said. “Oh right…”
“It came out pretty,” Hoseok said kindly. Namjoon’s phone buzzed belatedly, and he saw that Seokjin had been the one to text a screenshot of the picture to the group chat, along with nothing but a single question mark. He looked over to the far corner of the room where Seokjin, Jungkook, and Taehyung were sitting and saw that Seokjin was already looking in his direction. He wiggled his eyebrows and completely failed to keep a straight face.
The picture itself, filtered through Seokjin’s screenshot, did look pretty, like Hoseok had said. Well balanced. Symmetrical. Almost… moody. But yes, it was also possible that in the heat of the moment, Namjoon hadn’t quite put together the implications of announcing to the world with a meticulously framed closeup photograph that his favorite body part of Hoseok’s was his ankle.
“You guys are so—” Jimin said, looking between Namjoon and Hoseok and shaking his head. It was the kind of thing Jimin had been saying lately, and maybe not-so-lately as well. Maybe he’d just almost always said that about Namjoon and Hoseok. He never finished the sentence.
“Haha, I totally forgot I took that,” Namjoon said. Then his eyes flickered over to Hoseok’s, which sharpened for a moment in a way that forced Namjoon to remember that day, the rest of that day, everything about that day that only he and Hoseok knew, their secret memories flickering back and forth between them like their gaze was a telephone wire, and then Hoseok looked away toward the rest of the group and the moment was over.
“Did you see mine?” Yoongi was asking, distracted for now from teasing Namjoon, and Hoseok responded, and Yoongi smiled, his eyes cast down, and Jimin came over to join them, crowding around Yoongi’s phone.
And Namjoon allowed himself, just for a few seconds, to think about the other secret from that day, a secret with only himself. It nestled warm and comfortable in his chest where it had made a home for itself. Hoseok smiled at Jimin, laughed, his mouth a big joyful heart around pretty teeth, and Namjoon’s heart clenched. He didn’t even think the words anymore; he didn’t have to. But maybe one day, he thought, he’d say them.