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Hot Shot

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Noise. All Namjoon can focus on is the overwhelming amount of sound assaulting his ear drums. There's Taehyung in the living room screaming and twirling while Jimin makes feeble attempts to control him. Yoongi is shouting a story about some fight he supposedly got into the other day to whoever will listen. Jin is fretting over a spilled cup of jungle juice.

Namjoon is so tipsy and so out of his element.

If not for his friends scattered around the crowded apartment, he would have bailed a long time ago. House parties are not his style. Just as he's about to venture out of the kitchen, deft fingers catch his sleeve.

"Joonie!" Hoseok slurs. His breath smells like cinnamon whiskey but it's not entirely unpleasant. "Shots!"

"I'm good, I'm good-" Namjoon stutters, trying to detach various Hoseok-limbs from his body.

Yoongi's heard the call though and takes it up. "Shots! Shots! Shots!"

Soon enough, a small group gathers with Hoseok and Namjoon at its center and Namjoon feels like he's the star in a commercial about peer pressure. Hoseok lines up tiny glasses of tequila along the edge of the countertop and someone passes him a bowl of lime slices. A salt shaker appears out of nowhere, as do the invisible but almost-certainly-there devil's horns on Hoseok's head.

Taehyung stumbles in with a blushing Jimin in tow, both sporting mussed hair and swollen lips and briefly Namjoon is pleased because finally. His happiness is washed away with Taehyung's next suggestion.

"Body shots!" he hiccups triumphantly, hopping onto the counter and narrowly avoiding knocking over Hoseok's carefully prepared line of alcohol. Taehyung's still got a hand twined with Jimin's and he pulls him closer with a lurid grin. "You first!"

After some maneuvering, Jimin, with embarrassment written clear across his soft features, slurps half a shot of tequila out of the dip of Taehyung's collarbone. Of course, the lime wedge is situated perfectly between Taehyung’s teeth and perhaps the extra shot of liquid courage gets to Jimin because he dives in ruthlessly, stealing the lime and then going in for more until Jin is forced to shoo them away to find a spare room.

"Who's up?" Yoongi shouts. Ever the instigator, his eyes dance along the circle looking for a victim and Namjoon cringes because he knows where they'll land. "Hoseok! Prepare our dearest Joonie!"

Hoseok laughs, head thrown back, in that way he does when he's embarrassed but excited. "My pleasure!"

Namjoon is too weak to Hoseok's whims to fight back as he's manhandled onto the counter where Taehyung had been. The crowd around him is filled with animalistic excitement, pulsating with glee as Hoseok runs a wet finger down Namjoon's throat and sprinkles it with salt. Their eyes meet and Hoseok's are pitch-black, teeth bared in a hungry smile.

"Hold this and close your eyes," he whispers into Namjoon's ear so that only the two of them can hear. Namjoon obediently takes the slice of lime between two fingers and squeezes his eyes shut more out of fear than to follow Hoseok's instructions. 

He expects Hoseok to pull his shirt up to pour the shot in the dip of his belly button, the conventional sort of body shot if such a thing exists, but instead, Hoseok goes straight for his throat, licking across the coarse stripe of salt. Then, a breath of silence, fragile and tense, before cool liquid spills over Namjoon's cheek and everyone laughs - everyone but Hoseok, the absence of whose laughter is glaring. Nothing else registers after that except for the hot breath, flat tongue, liquor-soaked reality of Hoseok licking the tequila off his face, catching the drops pooled in his dimple because he's got his face scrunched up.

Namjoon opens his eyes and tips his head up just in time to catch Hoseok preening for the crowd. He's struck dumb but one thing still pricks at his mind.

"Your lime," he croaks, voice rougher than just the alcohol could have made it.

Hoseok's bright smile drops away a little bit and the crowd loses interest just as Hoseok snatches his wrist up. "Oh yeah," he purrs. 

Namjoon regrets everything.

In the space of a breath, Hoseok pulls the lime - and the two fingers Namjoon's holding it with - into his mouth. He pockets the lime somewhere, a cheek probably, and sucks Namjoon's fingers clean of the sticky tang. It wouldn't be so horrific - so perfect - but they never break eye contact and Hoseok does this little moan that Namjoon can't even hear because it exists only in the vibrations thrumming through his fingers.

"Oh, fuck," he groans, completely unprepared to have Hoseok looking at him like this, scooting into his personal space until they’re only breaths apart.

"You want a turn?" Hoseok asks, giggles like they're twelve year olds playing truth or dare and not grown men giving each other hard-ons in the middle of a party. Thankfully, the rest of the group has already turned their attention to Seokjin playfully lapping at the spilled alcohol in the dips of Yoongi’s abdominals.

“Grab the bottle,” Namjoon says, snagging a spare salt shaker and a lime slice. Hoseok raises his eyebrow questioningly but does as he’s told. Somewhere in this frat house there’s a spare bedroom, or at least a currently unoccupied one, and Namjoon intends to find it.

Hoseok playfully swats Namjoon’s ass as they take the stairs two at a time. The upper floor is dark, the sounds from below barely muffled. Hoseok does nothing to help as Namjoon searches out an available space; instead, he leans against a wall and teases at the bottom of his tank top.

“Where ya wanna take your shot from?” he asks, eyes flashing dark in the low light. “I gotta say your dimple worked out much better than Taehyung said it would.”

Namjoon stifles the question on the tip of his tongue - Hoseok planned that little stunt? - because he finally finds an unlocked door that doesn’t lead to some girl screaming and covering her half-naked body. “Get in here, asshole.”

“Kinda like it when you’re bossy,” Hoseok shrugs as he dutifully follows Namjoon into the dark bedroom. As soon as the door is closed, Namjoon pushes him, firm but gentle, into a ratty armchair in the corner. The room spins a little and Namjoon leans precariously over Hoseok in the chair, arms wobbling enough to be noticeable. “Easy,” Hoseok teases, waving the bottle between them. “You’ve got at least one more shot to take, right?”

Yanking the bottle from Hoseok’s hand, Namjoon twists the lid off and tosses it aside. The chair is low enough that he can drop to his knees and still reach the hollow of Hoseok’s navel. Namjoon derives a sick sense of pride from the way Hoseok’s cocky grin falters when he pushes up the worn cotton fabric of the other’s shirt and dribbles just enough tequila to fill his bellybutton. The cool liquid sends a chill up Hoseok’s spine and he shivers in the seat.

“Ready?” Namjoon asks, teeth buried in his lower lip while he waits for Hoseok’s go-ahead.

Hoseok takes a slice of lime between his teeth and nods. The salt ends up on the curve of Hoseok’s knee, exposed by his shorts and suddenly it’s now or never.

Flat-tongued, Namjoon licks a wet swath over the inside of Hoseok’s knee and does his best to ignore Hoseok’s hips canting up like he’s looking for friction. His face passes within inches of what is becoming a noticeable bulge in the front of Hoseok’s shorts, going straight for the pool of alcohol settled in his bellybutton. He sucks it up with a flourish, tongue flicking around the rim of Hoseok’s navel to get every last drop.

Hoseok groans, fingers digging into Namjoon’s biceps and pulling him up quicker than he’d expected. Their mouths crash together with the lime somewhere in between, making for a sticky mess on lips and cheeks and a tart taste that’s almost enough to make Namjoon pull away. He sticks around though because Hoseok opens his legs a little wider and suddenly the heat of his erection is pressed into Namjoon’s stomach and shit, Namjoon’s too drunk and too horny to make good decisions right now but this one seems great.

He shoves himself back up onto his knees, ignoring the plaintive whine bubbling up from Hoseok’s throat, and fumbles through the button and zipper of the other’s shorts. Halfway through, Hoseok seems to realize what’s happening and tries to help out, fingers tangling together and hips raising as the two of them work to get him undressed. Hoseok giggles again and it’s infectious, Namjoon snorting out a laugh that cuts short when Hoseok’s dick finally makes an appearance.

“Don’t have to, you’re drunk,” Hoseok groans, one hand curled loosely around his stiff shaft, working it up and down tortuously slow.

Namjoon bats his hand away and replaces it with his own, grip tighter. It’s too dry to feel good but Hoseok tips his head back against the chair anyways, shuddering sigh amping up the tension tenfold. “You’re drunker,” Namjoon counters stupidly, but he’s right and so Hoseok doesn’t even notice the mistake. “Stay quiet.”

Hoseok pulls his tank farther up and shoves a wad of the fabric into his mouth to keep himself quiet. He does it none too soon as Namjoon drops his head closer to Hoseok’s lap and licks across the swollen head of his dick. Hoseok’s eyes slit open but he contains his moans with the shirt. Encouraged, Namjoon wraps his lips around the tip and takes Hoseok as far in as he can manage on the first go. His gag reflex isn’t the best to begin with and a stomach full of acidic liquor is not one to be tested.

The shallow dips seem to be doing enough for Hoseok though, who’s gripping the arms of the chair like his life depends on it. Namjoon gets enough of a rhythm going that he can start moving his hand too and instantly he feels the way Hoseok trembles at the extra friction. With each stroke he swallows a little deeper, drool squelching out of the corners of his mouth. It’s fucking gross but worth it for every ragged moan muffled by Hoseok’s shirt. Namjoon looks up to catch Hoseok's eye, gaze sticking on the golden ripples of his abs and the single, perfect nipple left exposed by his crumpled clothing.

Up and down he goes until Namjoon knows he’s reached his limit with every nudge of Hoseok’s dick against the back of his throat. There are tears in his eyes and spit down his chin and Hoseok looks so shameless, leaned back in the chair, hips rocking up with every bob of Namjoon’s head, seeking just that much more. Namjoon has to pull away to catch his breath, forehead resting on the soft flesh of Hoseok’s inner thigh. He's waited too long for this, whether he wants to admit it or not.

Fingers weave through his hair and Namjoon exhales deeply. “This is fucking awesome,” Hoseok sighs wistfully, dragging a finger through the mess on Namjoon’s cheek made that much worse by the sticky remnants of lime and tequila. “I could finish like this though, if you wanted,” he offers, hand sliding up the slick skin of his shaft.

“No way,” Namjoon growls. “You started this shit, I’m finishing it.” Hoseok puts his hands up in surrender and nudges Namjoon with his knee, refocusing his attention on the task at hand.

Namjoon doesn’t waste time now, the heady buzz of tequila shifting into something hotter and more insistent in his gut. Hoseok plants a hand on the back of his head, not pushing at all but there, like Namjoon might decide to take another break and the thought just doesn’t bear thinking. It’s a little desperate and Namjoon is so glad that he’s not the only one feeling that way. He curls his tongue around the ridge at the head of Hoseok’s dick, slurping noisily until Hoseok’s posture goes slack again and he’s back in control.

In quick succession, Namjoon sucks and strokes Hoseok’s length, feeling it swell hotter and heavier than before. He pulls off completely each time, lips popping around empty space before diving back down. Hoseok is obviously doing his best to stay still, but the short, steady snap of his hips is all Namjoon needs. He hollows his cheeks and lets Hoseok do the work, in and out, doing his best to keep his lips sealed tight and tension in his throat. He hums, a low rumble, and Hoseok screams so loudly that Namjoon momentarily worries that someone’s going to barge in on them in fear that a murder is being committed.

“Shit, sorry, sorry!” Hoseok pants, thigh muscle straining under Namjoon’s palm. “Fuck, I’m so close and you-“

Namjoon repeats the vibratory groan deep in his throat, corners of his teary eyes pulled up into a smile as Hoseok shakes apart. From a shiver at his head all the way to his toes, Hoseok trembles, muscles spasming under the force of his orgasm. Too caught up in sensory overload, Namjoon misses the warning behind the cues and takes a shot of cum right to the back of his mouth. Sputtering and spitting, he pulls away, only to have another spurt land just above his collarbone.

“Jesus, Hoseok,” he huffs, stumbling away just in time to avoid another thick rope of jizz. “You’re a goddamn cum factory.”

Sated, Hoseok looks up at him with a lazy grin. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me after a drunk blowjob.”

Namjoon stood up too fast to avoid Hoseok’s mess and now he’s dizzy, laughter bubbling up in his throat no matter how annoyed he wants to be at Hoseok for being so disgusting. He flops back onto the lumpy bed in the center of the room, heart racing and ears buzzing. “You’re fucking gross,” he says between snorts of laughter. The ceiling spins in an entirely perplexing fashion and his stomach turns with it. He just sucked off Jung Hoseok, holy shit.

Hoseok throws himself onto the mattress beside Namjoon, jolting him out of his momentary reverie. Somehow, he's already dressed again. “You liked it,” he says matter-of-factly. He waves the long-forgotten bottle over their chests, golden liquid sloshing dangerously. “How ‘bout a little more of this and I’ll return the favor, yeah?”

The coals smoldering in Namjoon’s stomach are raked back to life instantly. He snatches the bottle and takes a swig, blurring the image of Hoseok's head bobbing between his legs. “Fuck yeah.”