jk | 14:37
got 2 hrs till my next class
hyung | 14:40
i guess not
jk | 14:42
yoongi hyung's in class
hyung | 14:42
When Jungkook opens the door twenty minutes later, Hoseok stands on the threshold soaked to the skin, hair dripping into his eyes, expression stormier than the weather outside.
Jungkook can’t help the snort of laughter that huffs from his nose as he steps back to let him in. ‘What the hell, hyung? Don’t you own a coat?’
Hoseok glowers, sneakers squelching a little as he moves into the apartment, shutting the door behind him. ‘Didn’t notice the rain till I was downstairs already, okay?’ he mutters, a touch defensively. ‘Elevator’s broken again, I wasn’t going back for a goddamn coat.’ Jungkook tries to cover up his smirk before Hoseok turns to him again, but it doesn’t quite work and Hoseok narrows his eyes as he reaches out, catches a fistful of Jungkook’s t-shirt, tugging him closer. ‘You better make this worth it, Jeon,’ he warns, his voice dropped in pitch, eyes lingering low on Jungkook’s face.
He leans a little, till their noses are practically blushing, Hosoek’s face a blur but his mouth so close that Jungkook can feel the heat of his breath. ‘Don’t I always, hyung?’ he murmurs, grinning at the eye roll he gets right before Hoseok’s mouth is on his. His lips are cold, taste like rain water, but his tongue is a lick of fire when it flicks out to tease him.
‘Cocky bastard,’ he mumbles, Jungkook laughing quietly into the kiss as his fingers travel the track of Hoseok’s hoodie zipper, locating the zip at the top and dragging it down in one smooth tug.
The soaked fabric sticks to his skin and the rest of his wet clothes, but with Hoseok pulling his sleeves and Jungkook pushing from the shoulders, they manage to get rid of it. It falls to the floor with a heavy splat and Jungkook hears a faint laugh rumble in Hoseok’s chest at the sound.
‘I swear, you swam here in the river, hyung,’ he says, his hands moving down to curve around Hoseok’s hips, thumbs poking curiously at the hem of his t-shirt. His skin is clammy, cool, but it warms quickly under Jungkook’s palms when he slips them down to the small of Hoseok’s back, steering them around till Hoseok’s leaning against the apartment door.
‘Shut up,’ he mutters, the hand he has fisted in the hair at Jungkook’s nape being used more for balance than anything else while he toes off his ruined sneakers, although Jungkook swears he feels that grip tighten as his lips skim down the rain slick skin of Hoseok’s throat. He presses a couple soft kisses into the crook of his neck, right where the collar of his t-shirt starts, but he’s cut short by Hoseok’s sudden groan of frustration. ‘Fuck, my socks are glued to my feet.’
Jungkook gives up on sucking a faint mark just above Hoseok’s collarbone to smirk, pressing kisses under his jaw instead. ‘Hot,’ he hums.
For that, he gets sharp teeth sunk unnecessarily deep into the soft flesh of his earlobe, breath hissing through his teeth even as Hoseok smooths his tongue over it in something like an apology, sucking it into his own mouth. And fuck, that feels good, the heat prickling down Jungkook’s spine more than enough to distract him from the strange, hopping sock-removing dance Hoseok is currently engaged in as Jungkook’s hands roam further under his shirt, fingertips dipping below the waistband of his jeans, his lips catching a drop of rain about to drip from Hoseok’s chin as he moves back to find his mouth.
‘What the fuck,’ Hoseok laughs. ‘Did you just kiss my chin?’
Jungkook pulls back momentarily, eyes narrowed. ‘So, what if I did?’
‘Who does that?’
Jungkook shrugs, ducking in again, dropping another kiss into the cleft under Hoseok’s lower lip, unable to stop himself planting another one a little higher up while he’s at it. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
Hoseok shakes his head, brow furrowed with confusion even as he chuckles. ‘You’re so weird,’ he mutters.
‘Says the guy who’d rather give himself a cold than climb a flight of stairs,’ Jungkook shoots back, pinching at the vulnerable bare skin of Hoseok’s waist.
‘Six flights, Jungkook,’ he yelps, torso twisting in the oddest ways in an attempt to escape Jungkook’s hands, ‘six.’
‘Okay, okay,’ Jungkook laughs, finding Hoseok’s mouth again in a rather clumsy kiss filled with too many teeth and Hoseok still trying to swear at him.
‘And Jesus Christ,’ he manages to get out, between kisses, ‘the only thing I’m gonna get a cold from is this floor. It’s freezing, Kook-ah.’
Jungkook breaks the kiss a moment, glancing down briefly at Hoseok’s bare feet, toes curled against the wood, the beginnings of a grin curling his own mouth as an idea hits him. He kisses Hoseok again, the kind of quick pecks he knows annoy him, his hands slipping down from under Hoseok’s shirt to his hips, lower, catching him underneath his thighs while he’s distracted and hoisting him up to pin him against the wall before he even has time to so much as swear in shock.
‘What the fuck, Jungkook, no,’ he snaps, eyes wide, hands flying up to grip hard at Jungkook’s shoulders. ‘Put me down!’
‘Why?’ Jungkook asks softly, all innocence as he ducks in to suck a kiss into the dip between Hoseok’s collarbones.
‘You’re gonna drop me,’ Hoseok mutters. ‘Also, don’t manhandle your fucking hyung,’ he adds, punching none-too-lightly at Jungkook’s shoulder, but Jungkook laughs through the pain, pulling back to grin up at him. His hands slide further along Hoseok’s thighs, nearing his ass, fingertips digging in and he doesn’t miss the way Hoseok’s legs tighten around his hips.
‘You don’t like it, hyung?’ he asks, but Hoseok’s only comeback this time is a brief glower before Jungkook is kissing him again, heavy and warm, tongue teasing just enough to get Hoseok to part his lips, deepening the kiss. And at that point, Jungkook knows he’s won this time, even before Hoseok’s ankles lock around the backs of his thighs, even before he slides his hands up further to grip Hoseok’s ass properly and he breathes a rough curse into Jungkook’s mouth.
Jungkook trails his lips down again, catching Hoseok’s chin with a kiss on purpose before he continues along his jaw, mapping out the length of bone, nose nuzzling in against his earlobe – because fuck, he smells amazing – before moving down the side of his throat. The kisses are deep, wet, teeth grazing because Jungkook would never say it aloud, but he’s weak – so weak – for the way Hoseok’s neck arches when he does exactly this, the slick of rain throwing every tendon and muscled contour into sharp relief under the flickering entryway light. He’s not big on marks, Hoseok, but sometimes this is okay, the small ones from gentle nips of Jungkook’s teeth, the faint ones easy to hide or explain away without suspicion.
‘Shit, Kook-ah,’ he breathes, head already tipped back against the wall, lolling slightly to the side, his fingers loosening their death-grip on Jungkook’s shoulders to slide into his hair again.
Jungkook gets a better grip under Hoseok’s thighs, hoisting him up a little further with a soft grunt, trying not to laugh when Hoseok’s arms reflexively tighten around his neck, his whole body stiffening up in shock.
‘Hyung, I’m not gonna drop you,’ he murmurs, leaning in to nose at his jaw. ‘Relax, fuck.’
‘But I hate heights,’ Hoseok groans, making Jungkook pull away with wide eyes and an incredulous snort.
‘You’re like an inch higher than your regular standing height, hyung!’
‘Still,’ Hoseok mutters, looking faintly troubled as he peers down at the ground in distaste. ‘I could fall, like, four feet, crack my tailbone or something – that shit hurts. I also hate pain.’
‘Bullshit,’ Jungkook says, leaning in to graze his teeth none-too-gently up Hoseok’s throat, making a shudder run through him, a sudden intake of breath that’s as much pleasure as it is pain.
‘Not what I meant,’ Hoseok mutters, his voice distinctly rougher.
‘Relax,’ Jungkook murmurs again, breathing the word against the corner of Hoseok’s mouth before moving back to kiss him.
He presses in closer, the moisture from Hoseok’s t-shirt bleeding lukewarm through to Jungkook’s, fabric sticking to fabric sticking to skin. A part of Jungkook realises he should probably get him a towel for his hair or something, but the rest of him is too caught up in how high Hoseok’s temperature seems to have crept just since they started this, his heart beating out an echo of Jungkook’s, fast and hard and getting a little frantic.
He can feel Hoseok starting to get hard, an almost inconspicuous bulge that wasn’t there a moment ago nudging at Jungkook’s stomach, giving him more ideas. He nips at Hoseok’s tongue right at the moment he lets him slide down the wall an inch or so, distracting him as best he can, but he’s rolling his own hips forward before Hoseok has time to even consider panicking. And it works, Hoseok’s breath huffing out of him in an encouraging sigh against Jungkook’s mouth, his arms looping more securely around his neck, heels digging insistently into the backs of Jungkook’s thighs.
With a slight smile into the kiss, he keeps going, slow and a tad maddening, but it’s only early stages yet and the friction is so fucking good – probably better for Jungkook through the thin fabric of his sweats, though Hoseok’s clearly getting something from it too. He hums against Jungkook’s lips, soft vibrations shivering through him, his hips rolling forward with a little more force and god, it’s getting hot. With damp cotton sticking to skin, the heat of Hoseok’s chest against his is unreal, only made worse by the friction, by the way Hoseok arches into him slightly, away from the hard surface of the wall.
It’s intoxicating. From the taste of rain still dripping into the kiss from Hoseok’s hair, his tongue sliding hot against Jungkook’s, to the peppery smell of Hoseok’s soap rising off his skin and the way his fingers scratch lightly at Jungkook’s scalp. It gets inside his head and slinks out through his veins, heat sparking through every nerve ending as he slides his hands to grip Hoseok’s thighs properly again, shifting his legs further apart to slot easier between them. It means they’re closer, it means the next roll of Jungkook’s hips is hard enough that he feels Hoseok’s own hips jerk forward in response.
‘Shit,’ Hoseok hisses, his teeth catching on Jungkook’s lip as he pulls back for a breather, panting already.
Hoseok might have bird-bones for wrists, but he’s heavier than Jungkook expected him to be, his infrequent and very reluctant trips to the campus gym with Jimin finally starting to pay off – if the burn in Jungkook’s arms is anything to go by. But it’s worth it. It’s more than worth it. With his head tipped back against the wall, his eyelids low, lips parted and kiss-slick, Hoseok looks incredible, the flush starting up in his throat and cheeks turning his skin rose gold under the flickering yellow light. He is glowing. When Jungkook grinds into him again, his eyes slip shut, brows knitting together and that expression alone is enough to have Jungkook’s cock twitching against the unsatisfying fabric of his sweats as he lunges for Hoseok’s mouth again, catching it deep and insistent.
A noise – the shadow of a moan – rumbles low in Hoseok’s throat, his tongue rushing to meet Jungkook’s with the same kind of building hunger Jungkook can feel in every heavy thud of his own pulse in his ears. His body is rolling steadily now, a sloppy, offbeat version of some choreo he’s been working on for their Halloween showcase and briefly, he wonders how that choreo might work with a partner. That bass heavy song, the slow and sensuous steps of the verse punctuated by the sharp hip thrusts and clean-cut moves of the chorus. He can practically picture how Hoseok would look under the deep red contrast lighting planned for the stage, the cut of his jaw and the hollows of his cheekbones, the way he’d look with his back arching off the stage floor while Jungkook—
Well, that’s not quite part of the choreo.
(Not for the showcase anyway.)
‘Why’re you smirking?’ Hoseok mumbles into the kiss, though Jungkook can feel the curve pulling at his mouth, too. ‘This was really hot till you started fucking smirking.’
Jungkook pulls away slightly, his forehead still half pressed against Hoseok’s, noses brushing. ‘So, it’s not hot anymore?’ he asks, watching Hoseok’s eyes, blurry as they are this close up, flicker open to narrow slits.
‘What’re you planning?’ he mutters, thighs tightening automatically around Jungkook’s hips again as he steps forward, pressing him back more securely against the wall, his body and Hoseok’s own legs the only thing holding him up now. But Hoseok doesn’t panic, doesn’t complain, not with Jungkook’s hands slipping under his t-shirt again, palms smoothing over his stomach and up to his ribs, thumbs teasing lightly at his nipples.
‘Nothing,’ Jungkook murmurs, moving to litter soft kisses down Hoseok’s jaw, heading for his throat again. He pauses briefly to nibble at his earlobe, tongue laving over it. ‘We should dance sometime, hyung.’
‘You wanna talk about this now?’ Hoseok asks, seeming too distracted to bother resisting when Jungkook reaches behind his own neck to catch Hoseok’s wrists, their fingers tangling clumsily as Jungkook lifts his arms to pin them against the wall above his head. (Hoseok’s eyebrow quirks up a little quizzically, but he doesn’t seem not into it.)
‘We’ve n-never done choreo together,’ Jungkook pants out, trying to keep his voice conversational, though that isn’t easy when his sweats are starting to feel a little damp, cock aching from the friction, but it’s so damn hard to stop.
‘Well, we can… we can do that next—fuck, Kook-ah—’ He breaks off as Jungkook rolls his hips forward again, grinding against the ever-growing bulge in Hoseok’s jeans, the raw edge to Hoseok’s voice only making him thrust harder, slower, dragging their cocks together through too many god awful layers of fabric. It fucking excruciating.
‘Is it getting hot again, hyung?’ he asks quietly, his own voice a thin, breathy mess, teeth sinking into his lower lip to stifle a groan at the look Hoseok gives him, his eyes dark and promising all kinds of mischief.
‘Bedroom,’ he says, voice suddenly steady again, no room for argument in that tone.
Jungkook grins, rolling into him one last time as he kisses him once more, quick but hard, Hoseok humming a moan against his lips.
As soon as his feet are back on the ground, he’s got his hands stuffed down the back of Jungkook’s sweats, two handfuls of his ass and his mouth quite firmly attached to Jungkook’s throat.
‘Lead the way,’ he mumbles, between sloppy, wet kisses sucked from the crook of his shoulder to his earlobe and back again, moving further down when Hoseok yanks the loose fabric of Jungkook’s shirt, stretching the neck till he can suck at Jungkook’s collarbones.
He doesn’t let up as Jungkook somehow manages to guide them precariously into the main living area, staggering back into the hallway wall with a huff of laughter at Hoseok’s yelp of surprise, even as he’s busy sucking a mark onto Jungkook’s shoulder, a hand still gripping at his ass, the other pushing up under his shirt.
‘Hyung, we’re gonna fall,’ he says, still grinning as his head tips back against the wall.
‘It’s fine,’ Hoseok mumbles, nipping sharply at the mark he just left, the sting sending a shudder through Jungkook, fingers fisting in the back of Hoseok’s shirt. Hoseok returns to kissing his neck, a little less clumsy now, his lips moving with quiet purpose over the soft skin right under Jungkook’s jaw as his hand snakes down between them, fingers finding the outline of his cock, squeezing lightly through his sweats.
‘Hyung,’ Jungkook half moans, teeth gritting together in barely contained frustration as Hoseok’s hand moves away again, curving around his hip instead to stop him rutting himself forward against Hoseok’s thigh. ‘Asshole,’ he hisses, Hoseok chuckling – giggling, really – against his throat before he pulls away completely, starts wandering off down the hall.
After a couple paces, he turns, smirking when he finds Jungkook still slumped back against the wall, breath coming hard, cock leaking against his own thigh, no doubt looking wrecked already. Hoseok continues walking backwards towards Jungkook’s room, hands dropping to start unbuttoning his jeans, eyebrows quirking up as if to say, You coming or not? Like the asshole he is, he slips his hand underneath the waistband of his own boxers a split second before he turns out of sight, letting out an entirely theatrical moan of pleasure, bedsprings creaking as he drops down onto the mattress.
Snorting quietly to himself, Jungkook rubs a hand down his face, gathers up the measly remains of his own composure and follows him into the room, stripping off as he goes – though he doesn’t get very far with that venture.
He finds Hoseok sitting on the bed, leaning on his hands, head tipped back to hang between his shoulder blades. The watery afternoon light streaming in through the window shows all too clearly how the damp fabric of his t-shirt clings to the faint contours of his chest and stomach, the hem rucked up to just above his bellybutton, that thin trail of sparse dark hair leading down to where his cock is peeking over the waistband of his boxers. In this light, he isn’t rose gold, but he’s still fucking stunning, neck stretched out and littered in light pink marks, damp hair hanging haphazardly over his forehead. His mouth curls into a slight smirk right before he slits his eyes open, dark and lazy, but sparking with something so stupidly warm it makes Jungkook’s fists clench around the t-shirt in his hands.
‘What’re you doing?’ Hoseok asks, rolling his head up to properly frown at him. ‘Unless you’re gonna strip for me, get over here.’ Patronising shit that he is, he punctuates that last part by patting his thigh.
Jungkook rolls his eyes, but he doesn’t move, his attention caught by something else as he tosses his shirt in the general direction of his desk.
It was his birthday two weeks ago and Yoongi was more than generous as usual. His brand new Instax sits on his desk, looking at him with that one big doe-eyed lens. It’s been doing that for the past fortnight, but with the new semester to deal with, Jungkook hasn’t managed to find the time to mess around with it.
So it’s been sitting there, by Sunny the Cactus (Taehyung’s present), alone and neglected.
There just hasn’t been an opportunity yet.
On the bed, Hoseok lets out an impatient groan.
‘Hyung…’ Jungkook wets his lips, turns his head back to meet Hoseok’s quizzical gaze. ‘Can I photograph you?’
There’s a beat of silence before Hoseok snorts. ‘What, right now?’ he asks, eyes going wide.
‘Yeah.’ Jungkook shrugs, moving over to the desk, picking up the small camera and passing it between his hands. ‘I’m not gonna show anyone, obviously.’
‘Ah, I see,’ Hoseok drawls, smirking again as he watches Jungkook. ‘Your old porn mags gettin’ too sticky, Kookie?’ he asks, flopping back dramatically on the mattress, hand by his crotch. ‘You want a piece o’this?’
‘Fuck off, hyung,’ he mutters, trying not smile while poking at buttons, turning the flash off and such, shooting Hoseok a sideways glower as he cackles – which he does for a while.
‘Ah, fine,’ he sighs eventually, as if this is at great expense to himself, but Jungkook will take it.
‘Yeah?’ he confirms, eyebrows hitching up in question, camera already set to go.
‘Sure,’ Hoseok says, propping himself back up on his arms with a vague shrug. ‘How d’you want me?’
The sound of the camera shutter rings around the room, making Hoseok snap to attention, sitting up straight, eyes wide.
‘What the fuck?’ he demands. ‘I wasn’t ready!’
‘That’s the point,’ Jungkook says, not bothering to hide his grin anymore, catching the photo the camera spits out and setting it on the desk to develop. Hoseok is still glowering at him. ‘It’s better when you don’t pose, hyung.’
Narrowing his eyes, Hoseok grunts, not seeming entirely convinced, before wrinkling his nose. ‘Well, now it’s just awkward if you’re gonna be standing there with the camera,’ he complains, all but pouting.
Jungkook rolls his eyes. ‘It won’t be awkward,’ he mutters, a touch impatiently. (Last year, as part of their field training, their TA took them to photograph kindergartners for the day and Jungkook is feeling a touch of déjà vu.) ‘Just—trust me, hyung.’
Hoseok pulls an unamused sort of face, dimples popping in his cheeks, but it seems like he’s still on for cooperating.
Jungkook readies the camera again, smiling a little. ‘Take off your shirt,’ he murmurs.
It’s like the damp fabric holds some strange, transformative power. Hoseok tugs it up over his head, disappearing for a split second before his head pops out again, though there’s no trace left of the pout or the dimples. They’ve been fully replaced by low hanging eyelids and parted lips, Hoseok’s hair, still stringy with rainwater, falling over his forehead in deep black spikes, ruffled from the shirt. He lets it fall somewhere – Jungkook isn’t paying attention to where – and leans back on his hands again, making full eye contact with Jungkook through the lens of the camera. It’s fucking beautiful, Jungkook’s teeth gnawing at his own lower lip because shit, he just wants to touch the soft ridges of Hoseok’s stomach, run his hands down the smooth, tan skin of his arms.
He hits the button, the shutter snapping, snatching the photo and tossing it onto the desk with barely a care before he’s moving forward. Hoseok’s hands reach out to greet his hips as he straddles his lap, mouth finding Hoseok’s almost immediately, arms winding around his neck, a soft groan rumbling in Hoseok’s throat. Hoseok’s hands seem as hungry as his kisses, restless as they move from Jungkook’s hips to his stomach, his chest, a soft snort of laughter ghosting across Jungkook’s cheek when Hoseok runs light fingertips over a nipple, teasing, and Jungkook swears, a shiver of pleasure thrumming through his body. Hoseok smooths his palms up the planes of Jungkook’s bare back, bumping softly down over the ridges of his spine and further again, shoving the waistband of sweats down just enough to grab at Jungkook’s ass, squeezing playfully.
Jungkook grins, can’t help it, feels an answering curve to Hoseok’s lips as he moves his own free hand up, fingers sliding into the damp locks of Hoseok’s hair, nails scratching gently at his scalp the way he likes. Right on cue, Hoseok hums contentedly into the kiss, palms travelling back up to the small of Jungkook’s back, pulling him in closer, so they’re chest to chest again. That raw feeling of bare skin on bare skin is enough to have Jungkook’s breath hitching, Hoseok moaning so softly that Jungkook feels it more than hears it thrumming against his own chest.
Deepening the kiss, Jungkook sucks hard on Hoseok’s lower lip, kneading the flesh gently between his teeth as he slips his hand down over Hoseok’s stomach – dance-toned, but still a little soft – snakes it between them to where Hoseok’s cock is still caught in the waistband of his boxers. Jungkook drinks in the uneven sigh Hoseok lets out as his fingers rub lightly at the leaking head of his cock, teasing more than anything else as he focuses on his mouth and how much heavier Hoseok’s kisses are becoming the more worked up he gets, hand catching the back of Jungkook’s neck to pull him in even closer. He’s always the same, starts soft, piques at teeth and tongue and moans (some of the most uncoordinated kissing Jungkook’s ever encountered, but Jung Hoseok makes it work), ends even softer again. It’s a predictable spike every time, but in the past couple months, Jungkook hasn’t found himself growing bored of it.
Not yet anyway.
It’s when Jungkook runs his thumb into Hoseok’s slit without an ounce of warning that Hoseok’s hips jerk upwards, entire body jolting with it, the back of his head colliding sharply with the camera in Jungkook’s hand in the process. The crack is loud enough that Jungkook fears for the life of his camera.
‘Fuck,’ Hoseok hisses, his face crumpling in pain, hand flying to the back of his own head as Jungkook’s eyes go wide, huffing out a shocked sort of laugh (a touch of sympathy sneaking in once he’s confirmed his camera is fine).
‘Shit, sorry, hyung,’ he says quickly, letting the camera drop down onto the mattress as Hoseok tips forward with a groan, his forehead resting against Jungkook’s collarbone while he continues massaging gingerly at the back of his head.
‘You fucker, don’t laugh,’ he grumbles, mercilessly pinching Jungkook’s thigh, but—okay, maybe he deserved that one. He decides not to retaliate, reigning in the laughter to a quiet smirk instead.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says again, giving the back of Hoseok’s neck an apologetic (if somewhat patronising) squeeze. ‘I’d offer to kiss it better,’ he murmurs, leaning in to brush his lips over Hoseok’s ear, ‘but I can think of a few, uh… more interesting ways to make it up to you, hyung.’
‘You fucking better,’ Hoseok says, right before he’s tossing Jungkook off his lap without an ounce of warning, letting him land unceremoniously onto the bed as Hoseok stands up.
Jungkook rolls onto his back in time to see Hoseok stepping forwards, mischievous smirk quirking his mouth as his fingers curl around one of Jungkook’s ankles, grabbing a handful of his sweats and tugging. Jungkook doesn’t help much, but he doesn’t stop him either, settling into the rumpled duvet with a huff of laughter as Hoseok gets his sweats halfway down his thighs, catches the waistband and tugs them off the rest of the way without further ado.
Jung Hoseok is a natural entertainer. With sex, that seems to translate as him being a goddamn tease, fucking around for much longer than necessary, but there’s always a breaking point. Jungkook thinks they’ve hit it, Hoseok tossing the sweats to some distant corner of the room, turning back to him again with flushed cheeks and dark eyes and a slightly heaving chest. He certainly looks like he’s done fucking around. To be honest, he looks a little manic, but then, he is a little manic, so it figures.
Without glancing away, Jungkook reaches to his left, grabbing the camera again, propping himself up on an elbow. ‘Hyung, jeans,’ he murmurs, reaching out a leg to poke at Hoseok’s thigh with his toe. ‘Off.’
And it’s at this point Jungkook realises Hoseok isn’t done yet, not by a long shot.
He wets his lips, mischief glinting in his eyes. ‘Gimme the camera,’ he says.
Jungkook frowns. ‘What?’
Hoseok holds out a hand, making his intentions very goddamn clear. ‘Camera. Now.’
‘What—no,’ Jungkook snaps, eyes going wide, practically hugging the thing to his chest in case Hoseok decides to tackle him for it. ‘Hyung, in life, we all pick a side of the camera, okay. I’ve chosen mine, respect my choices.’
‘You almost brained me a second ago,’ Hoseok reminds him, making Jungkook glower a little sheepishly through his lashes. ‘Fuck your life choices, Jeon, I’m not getting naked till you gimme that camera.’ The worst part is, he seems almost serious. And he would. Jungkook knows he would. Once, he edged him for the better part of three weeks, kept luring him into dark corners and onto soft surfaces, getting him good and hard with kisses and touches – then leaving, a Cheshire smirk pasted all over his face, evil in his eyes. Jungkook can’t even remember what he did to deserve that one, but he still bears those scars upon his very soul.
He ditches the glowering, tries a touch of aegyo instead – he knows Hoseok’s weak for puppy eyes and no one does puppy eyes like Jeon Jungkook. ‘Hyung…’ he says softly, little more than a whine, but Hoseok’s having fucking none of it today. He raises an eyebrow of pure unadulterated judgement – he knows how rare it is for Jungkook to stoop as low as aegyo, but clearly that doesn’t matter.
Hoseok wiggles his fingers.
With a quiet groan, Jungkook holds out the camera for Hoseok to take, flopping back onto the mattress.
‘Say cheese,’ Hoseok says.
Jungkook raises his head enough for Hoseok to see the scrunched up expression on his face, the one Taehyung calls his “Gremlin Face” – and Hoseok rolls his eyes, lowering the camera again.
‘Come on, Kook-ah~’ he wheedles, nudging Jungkook’s foot with his knee. ‘Play nice.’
Jungkook directs a withering look up at him, but after another peek at that pout, he sighs. ‘How d’you want me?’ he asks, a deadpan mockery of Hoseok’s earlier question.
‘It’s better when you don’t pose,’ Hoseok shoots back, his tone nasally and purposely pretentious. He cackles as Jungkook kicks out at his leg, stepping away just out of reach. ‘Okay, okay, just… just look at me.’
‘I am looking at you.’
‘Without your spoilt brat face.’
Jungkook groans loudly, falling back and rubbing at his face, clearing the canvas, before propping himself up again, this time with as neutral an expression as he can muster under the circumstances. He looks up at Hoseok, realising belatedly that he looks good with a camera – really good. His slim fingers are tucked around the edges like they’re meant to be there, his mouth visible just below it, lips parted in concentration.
The sound of the shutter makes Jungkook start a little, Hoseok grinning as catches the photo, sets it on the bedside locker. He holds the camera out to Jungkook.
‘Well, a deal’s a deal,’ he says, eyebrows waggling.
Jungkook takes it, rearranging himself to sit up straight and bringing the camera up to his face. He watches through the lens as Hoseok hooks his thumbs into his boxers, making sure they’re removed along with his jeans, starts pushing them down his thighs. Maybe he’s getting a little trigger happy at this point or maybe it was some kind of divine intervention, but Jungkook is clicking before he knows it, Hoseok still half bent over, fighting with his jeans.
Jungkook waits a couple seconds for the photo, snatches it quickly and leaves it on the bedside locker with the developing one of himself. He has no idea how it might turn out, but Hoseok’s got his jeans off now, moving back to kneel on the bed, stark naked and fucking stunning. Jungkook snaps another quick shot before letting himself fall back again, Hoseok arranging his own legs to bracket Jungkook’s hips, propping himself over him on all fours, but he pauses a moment before he does anything else. His dark eyes are on Jungkook, flickering over his face, lingering on his mouth.
‘You look good,’ he murmurs.
They don’t really do compliments – why would they bother, it’s not like they’re dating or whatever – but Jungkook doesn’t get time to do much more than stare before Hoseok’s ducking in, bypassing the niceties in favour of sliding his tongue right in alongside Jungkook’s. He kisses him with enough force that Jungkook’s back arches slightly, head raising off the mattress to give as good as he’s getting. Keeping the camera well out of the way this time, Jungkook’s free hand curves around the back of Hoseok’s neck, his grip tightening with a curse hissed between his teeth as Hoseok’s fingers find his cock, curling loose around the length. It’s too dry at first, Jungkook’s hips squirming at the sensitivity, but Hoseok’s palm moves over the head of his cock, leaking for so long now that there’s more than enough for Hoseok to slick down his length, Jungkook humming a groan into his mouth as he starts fisting his cock in slow, tight strokes, squeezing near the head in that one way that always makes him choke on his own moans.
Hoseok notices. Of course he does – any excuse to tease Jungkook and he’s all over that like a goddamn rash, pulling away with a lazy grin spreading across his face. ‘Always so quiet,’ he murmurs, and Jungkook rolls his eyes because he knows exactly where this is going. Hoseok ducks down to suck some more at the mark he left on Jungkook’s shoulder. ‘Make some noise for me, Kook-ah.’
‘Fuck off, hyung,’ Jungkook mutters, catching a fistful of Hoseok’s hair, tugging him back up for a kiss. Hoseok resist, though, nudging his nose against Jungkook’s instead.
‘But you always sound so good,’ he wheedles softly.
‘Hyung,’ Jungkook snaps, the word coming out as more of a growl as he catches Hoseok round the waist and flips them over, Hoseok giggling wildly under him now. His hair splays out over the pale bedsheets like a dark halo, a deep flush creeping right up to his temples. His eyes are bright from the laughter and Jungkook has to fight his own grin. ‘Stop.’
Jungkook swears Hoseok’s smile is so bright he has to squint a little. ‘I’ll stop if you kiss me, Kook-ah, come on,’ he says, running his hands up and down Jungkook’s thighs, squeezing a little as if to prompt him to get a move on.
Jungkook glowers down at him a moment longer, but he’s hard and hot and Hoseok’s also hard and (very, very) hot, and his hands feel so goddamn good – Jungkook doesn’t have any real restraint left at this point. He leans in to indulge Hoseok with a few kisses before pulling back, leaning over to grab the lube from a drawer on the bedside locker, pumping some of the thick liquid out into his palm as Hoseok continues stroking at his thighs, lightly dragging his nails down and grinning when Jungkook shivers.
He looks a lot like he’s about to say something else fucking annoying, so Jungkook gets a hand around his cock quick, running lightly along the length to slick it up with lube before tightening his grip, mimicking Hoseok’s earlier ministrations. Hoseok likes a gentler touch, though, gets off just as much on the teasing as he does the heavier stuff, and it’s a wonder to watch, to listen to. Jungkook doesn’t dive straight for his lips again, moves to dot a line of wet kisses up his sternum instead because he wants to hear him, those moans that grow from low in his chest. They start so small you can barely make them out, but by the time he’s coming, the neighbours are probably fully aware of what’s going on and who he’s with and how much he’s enjoying it. Jungkook never liked the loud ones all that much, thought it was unnecessary, that the praise was in the end result and not the goddamn commentary – but then he sucked Jung Hoseok off that first time and loud never sounded better.
Snatching some semblance of payback, he kisses his way slowly up Hoseok’s neck, smirking when he hears the first soft groan of his name. He gets as far as Hoseok’s mouth, hovering a moment with Hoseok watching him through heavy lids, his breath coming fast, his hand moving to the back of Jungkook’s head, but Jungkook does nothing more than peck quickly at his lower lap before drawing back, sitting up, grinning at the frown that pinches between Hoseok’s eyebrows.
‘I hate you,’ he mutters, but Hoseok doesn’t have it in him to say such harsh words without a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. ‘I really do.’
‘Sure, hyung,’ Jungkook murmurs, dragging his thumb slow over the head of his cock just to watch the way Hoseok’s lips part, eyes squeezing shut again, hips arching up – and that’s how Jungkook catches him, reaching for the camera abandoned on the mattress, barely taking the time to focus before he’s snapping the shot.
‘Really?’ Hoseok breathes, seeming caught somewhere between frustration and relief as Jungkook releases his cock again, gingerly plucking the edge of the photo with lube-sticky fingers and dropping it with the others on the bedside locker. ‘
Jungkook smirks at him and Hoseok rolls his eyes.
‘Okay, put it away now,’ Hoseok asks more than orders, but Jungkook was having similar thoughts. He really likes photography a lot, he does. There are just some things he likes a little more.
He leans over to slide the camera onto the locker next to the developing photos, unaware of Hoseok sitting up underneath him until his arms are curling around Jungkook’s waist and he’s catching Jungkook’s chin, tugging him back in for a kiss. It’s slow, warm, Hoseok’s tongue licking gently against Jungkook’s, teeth nipping just enough to send hot prickles dancing down Jungkook’s spine. But there’s something building up underneath it all now, desperate and demanding, coiling tight in Jungkook’s stomach, his hips rolling down into Hoseok’s lap, slick cocks sliding together with precum and the leftover lube.
‘Fuck—yeah,’ Hoseok moans, his lips dropping to mouth messily at Jungkook’s collarbones, his shoulder, his hands dropping to grip his ass as Jungkook keeps going, grinding down. His own fingers are gripping hard at Hoseok’s shoulders for leverage, his head dropped low enough that all he can smell is sweat and sex and Hoseok’s shampoo rising off his damp hair, some kind of sweet citrus.
With barely any warning, Hoseok’s got his arms around Jungkook’s waist again, pulling them both to the side till they’re laying down, legs knotted, Hoseok tugging him close, his hand diving between them. Long fingers curl around both their cocks and now Jungkook can’t help the groan that catches in his throat at the feeling of Hoseok’s hand setting to work, leaving out the bullshit, picking up a quick, determined pace.
Jungkook isn’t even doing anything and he’s still getting the credit, according to Hoseok’s’ ragged voice. He might’ve smirked if he wasn’t muffling his own moans against Hoseok’s mouth, fingers fisting in his hair as he pulls him in deep. It’s too wet, too breathy, too uncoordinated, but it’s hard to stop when Hoseok curses taste so goddamn sweet on Jungkook’s tongue.
It’s not long till he feels the familiar tingle starting in his thighs, heat burning too bright low in his stomach, and Jungkook drops a hand between them, his own palm moving over the leaking heads of their cocks as Hoseok strokes them, both of them groaning. They abandon the kissing, Jungkook ducking his head to muffle his noises against Hoseok’s chest instead, Hoseok’s breath ragged and hot in his hair, his hips jerking sharply as Jungkook rubs his thumb purposely against his slit, palm still grinding over the slick head of his own cock.
‘Shit, hyung—hyung, I’m—‘ Jungkook cuts off with a curse hissed against Hoseok’s collarbone, toes curling at the pleasure shooting up his spine.
‘You close?’ Hoseok asks, his voice low, rough, wrecked and thick with his own oncoming release, and it’s probably the sound of that, of Hoseok’s lips brushing his ear and the well-timed upping of his pace on their cocks that sends Jungkook spiralling.
He comes with a muffled gasp over both their hands, moving his own away quickly to grip hard at Hoseok’s arm because he wants him to slow down, to loosen his fist, but fuck, he also just wants him to keep going, milking Jungkook’s orgasm for all its goddamn worth. He can tasted skin, realises he’s got his teeth half sunk into Hoseok’s chest, but Hoseok seem to mind, still breathing hard as works their cocks.
Jungkook’s still so deep in it he barely registers the breathy chuckle against his temple. ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Hoseok murmurs, teasing as always, though his voice sounds strained now, the words pulled taut across his tongue.
‘Shut up, hyung,’ Jungkook groans, feeling a shudder run through him as the sting of overstimulation finally hits good and proper, his nails digging into Hoseok’s bicep.
‘Too much?’ Hoseok slows his pace almost immediately, grip loosening, pulling back a little to see Jungkook’s face.
Turning his head away for a brief breath of cool air, Jungkook nods, shuddering out a sigh caught somewhere between satisfaction and relief when Hoseok lets go of his cock entirely. His entire body feels a little less than solid, but he knows they’re not done yet, only takes a beat to coax his limbs into cooperating just a little more.
Before Hoseok has a chance to so much as think about finishing himself, Jungkook has rolled them both over, straddling Hoseok’s hips again. There’s no grace in the way he gets him off, spitting into his palm, filthily wet strokes of his fist over Hoseok’s cock, but that’s exactly how Hoseok’s likes it, his hips squirming between Jungkook’s thighs. He holds off on kissing him in favour of the view, Hoseok with sweat pasting his hair to his forehead now more than rain, his eyes shut, lips bitten bright with pleasure, his arms over his head, fingers curled tight into a pillow. Jungkook breaks eventually, leaning forward, licking into Hoseok’s mouth, sucking light kisses against his lips while he comes hard, a moan of Jungkook’s name ringing loud around the walls of his bedroom. (Later, when Jungkook meets his neighbours in the hall and they shoot him those knowing winks, he’s going to burn himself to a cinder like always, shrivel up and die right there in the corridor. But right now, it’s good. Right now, his name sounds fucking beautiful tearing from Hoseok’s throat.)
Jungkook gentles him through it, loosening his fist and softening his kisses, moving to litter them down over Hoseok’s flushed throat instead, giving him a chance to catch his breath. Then there’s a moment, once Hoseok’s had enough and Jungkook’s still straddling him, hands braced on Hoseok’s hips as he leans forward, where the room is filled up with the sound of their own laboured breathing, broken only when Jungkook groans, flopping forwards, his head still spinning as he rests it against Hoseok’s heaving chest.
‘Fuck,’ he mumbles.
He feels Hoseok patting at the back of his head. ‘You okay there, champ?’ he asks, condescending bastard.
Jungkook raises his head enough to shoot Hoseok a dark look through his lashes, Hoseok grinning sleepily back at him. With a soft snort of laughter, Jungkook sits up again, wrinkling his nose as he wipes his sticky hands off on the bedsheets – he needed a reason to wash them anyway. He’s been itching to try out this new scent of laundry detergent he found at the supermarket last week.
Busy with his wiping, it takes him a moment to notice Hoseok watching him, something weird and intense that usually burns up with his orgasm still lingering in his eyes.
‘Get the camera,’ he says, right as Jungkook’s about to ask him what his problem is.
He frowns. ‘Why?’
‘You’re gonna want to,’ Hoseok says simply, a flicker of mischief ghosting across his face now.
Still confused, but not about to argue, Jungkook nods, stretching over to grab the camera off the bedside locker. He settles back on Hoseok’s thighs, looking down at him with an eyebrow raised in question.
Without a word, Hoseok raises his own hand to—
—his mouth and—
Oh, dear god.
‘Fuck, hyung,’ Jungkook breathes, watching as Hoseok, rather smugly, sucks his own cum-covered fingers into his mouth, lips parted for Jungkook to see everything, his tongue laving over each digit, cum smearing on his lips, the way he nips lightly at one on his fingertips. As he raises the camera again, his own jaw hanging slack, he swears that Hoseok is enjoying this. He’s enjoying this far too fucking much. But on the other hand – click – so is Jungkook.
‘You’re unbelievable,’ he mutters, when Hoseok breaks into a goofy cackle almost as soon as Jungkook’s taken the photo, all traces of erotic model Jung Hoseok vanished in a puff of fucking smoke and that one disgusted face he pulls as he rolls his tongue gracelessly around his own mouth.
‘You got water or something?’ Hoseok asks, glancing around the room, nose wrinkled, seeming unwilling to close his mouth now. ‘I just ate your lube. Your lube tastes shit enough without mixing it with cum. I bought you watermelon flavour for your birthday. It cost me a whole 10000 won, why are we still using this shit?’
Jungkook shrugs. ‘Because that one isn’t finished yet,’ he says, clambering off Hoseok and the bed to grab the water bottle he left on the desk after his run. He tosses it to Hoseok, throwing him a meaningful look while he’s at it. ‘I wasn’t raised to be wasteful, hyung.’
Hoseok rolls his eyes, somehow managing to look judgemental while gargling water, head tossed back, mouth open. ‘Says the guy who has 40 different scents of laundry powder piled up in his bathroom closet,’ he shoots back after a moment, wiping his mouth off on his hand. ‘But of course, you’re gonna use them all.’
‘As a matter of fact, I will, hyung,’ Jungkook mutters, gathering up the photos he left on his desk, tapping them into a stack. ‘And, hey, I didn’t tell you to eat it.’
‘No, but you enjoyed it,’ Hoseok says, voice full of faux heartbreak, arm thrown dramatically over his eyes. ‘I feel used, exploited.’ He lifts his arm to peek at Jungkook, frowning. ‘Am I even getting paid for this?’
Jungkook snorts. ‘Oh, my god, shut up,’ he mutters, dropping back onto the bed and finding Hoseok’s mouth again because it really is the most effective and often only way of keeping him quiet. He has to pinch the thin skin over Hoseok’s hip when he keeps cackling into the kiss, almost gets a knee to the groin for that one, but at least he stops, threading his fingers through Jungkook’s hair instead, lips parting with a muffled sigh.
Hoseok was always different, right from the start, but the main thing that threw Jungkook those first few times they hooked up was Hoseok’s blatant disregard for the “No Post-Coital Snuggling” rule. It’s in every edition of every casual hook up guidebook across the world, but Hoseok must’ve skipped that particular chapter. Like clockwork, 5 – 10 minutes post orgasm, it’s Koala Mode Activate and Jungkook quickly finds himself wrapped up in a soft cage of arms and legs.
He’s used to it by now, though, doesn’t even hate the warmth of Hoseok’s breath in the crook of his neck or the way his hair tickles his jaw. His own arm falls limp around Hoseok’s shoulders as he reaches over with the other to get the photos from the locker. He pauses with his hand hovering above the stack, smirks to himself as he reaches for the camera instead. He knows Hoseok has his eyes shut, probably on the brink of sleep (he always needs that power-nap right after), but still, he’s careful as he brings the camera around. Unable to focus or even see what the hell he’s photographing, Jungkook has no idea how this one will turn out, but he snaps the shot anyway, Hoseok stirring.
‘’The fuck?’ he mutters, groaning when he sees the camera, though he doesn’t bother getting up. ‘Why, Kook-ah?’
‘Before and after shots,’ Jungkook tells him, grinning as he leaves the camera back on the locker, finally picks up his stack of photos.
Hoseok grumbles a little more, but after a moment, he nuzzles in closer to Jungkook’s neck, slinging his arm around his waist, and relaxes again, breathing easy.
The first thing that becomes apparent when Jungkook checks out the photographs, is that Yoongi must’ve bought him black and white film. Whether it was on purpose or not, he has no idea, but he’s grateful nonetheless.
These shots don’t need colour.
They’re a little dark without the flash, but that’s how Jungkook wanted them. He wanted the full effect of the weak autumn sunlight slanting in through his window, wanted to capture clearly the way it fell over the contours of Hoseok’s body, picking out the light definition of his chest and stomach, the sharp lines of his collarbones and hips, the rumpled layers of fabric as Hoseok pulled off his shirt, kicked out of his jeans. The way his lips and fingers glistened in that last photo.
Only for he knows he’d never have the guts to hand these over to a professor, he’s almost sorry he promised to keep them private. This is some of his best work, he reckons, flipping through the stack. The first one, Hoseok on the bed, head tipped back, the cut of his jaw so severe Jungkook has to bite his lip to keep from swearing. In the second photo, right after he took off his shirt, Jungkook can’t quite believe he caught perfectly the look Hoseok gets in his eyes right before they fuck, every damn time, dark and hungry, an intensity that seems to leak out of the photo itself.
When Jungkook moves to the third photo, he almost drops entire stack, feels his stomach drop with a sudden shot of embarrassment when he sees himself stark naked, laying back on the bed, propped up on his elbows, hair mussed and eyes reflecting the light. He’s not even looking at the camera, but just a little too low. He vaguely remembers how he was staring at Hoseok’s mouth. He moves that one to the back of the stack pretty quick.
The fourth is of Hoseok kneeling on the edge of the bed, shot from the thighs up, fingers wrapped loosely around his own cock. His face is a little overshadowed, but Jungkook can still see the way he’s got his lower lip caught between his teeth, the fucking poser. The next one has Jungkook smirking a little, taking in how wrecked Hoseok looks, hair falling back from his forehead with his neck arched, lips parted, brow knit in pleasure. It’s from the waist up, so you can’t see what’s going on down there, but you can tell he’s enjoying it – a far contrast from the cocky bastard in the previous photo.
But the last one – the last one is by far Jungkook’s favourite. Hoseok slumped back against the pillows, his hair a wild halo, strands pasted to the shining skin of his forehead. Maybe Hoseok’s being absolutely filthy in it, but everything about the shot is perfect: the shadowy contrasts thrown by the tendons in his neck, the glint of mischief in his eyes as they made full contact with the camera, and the way the light caught the slick mess on his kiss-swollen lips and fingers. He looks like something otherworldly in the photo, powerful and utterly forbidden. It’s hard to believe that same person is draped across him right now, his foot stroking Jungkook’s calf under the sheets.
With a quiet huff of disbelieving laughter, Jungkook taps the stack back into shape, slips it onto the locker again before he remembers the last photo – the real last photo, still caught in the camera. He reaches for it just as Hoseok stirs, inhaling deep to yawn as he pushes himself onto his elbows.
‘So, how’d they turn out?’ he asks, after a moment of watching Jungkook stare at the single photo in his hands.
He doesn’t reply, not immediately.
The last photo is a little blurry, a smudge mark in the lower corner where Jungkook must’ve caught it with his thumb. It’s close up, little more that Hoseok’s face and neck, an unidentifiable sliver of Jungkook’s chest, and it’s blurry, just a touch out of focus. But Hoseok’s eyes are shut, bangs falling haphazardly onto his forehead, a long lock caught on his nose bridge because he needs a damn haircut. His face is softened out into the purest expression of sleepy peace Jungkook has ever seen – and he’s roomed with Park Jimin – the flush in his cheeks so deep that it was captured faintly even in monochrome.
Eyes still on the photo, Jungkook doesn’t think before he speaks. (He 10/10 does not recommend doing that. Ever.)
‘Beautiful,’ he murmurs, and it takes him a moment to process what he just said, to register the soft lilt in his voice that sounded a little too much like awe or affection, or something trapped, terrified and screaming, between the two things. He can feel a wave of heat rushing up his neck and into his face even before he chances a glance at Hoseok.
Hoseok is looking at him. He’s ruffled and bleary-eyed, one cheek a little redder than the other from where it was stuck to the overheated skin of Jungkook’s shoulder. He’s sleep-puffed and beautiful and he’s looking at him, the weird, tiny beginnings of a smile playing around his mouth.
Jungkook can’t take it. He looks away again, gaze dropping to the photo in his hands. He should probably stop staring at this now, he decides, frowning, reaching over for the stack again to add this one to the pile, and he thinks Hoseok might still be looking at him, but he’s not sure and his face is so hot, he swears he’s about to burst some veins here, but—
Hoseok is kissing him.
With no warning whatsoever, he caught Jungkook’s jaw, turning his head round and tilting it up and now he’s kissing him, slow and warm and a little stale-cum-flavoured, but Jungkook’s cool with it. Luckily, even with that crippling shame pumping frantically through his veins, he still has enough arousal leftover that he doesn’t totally freeze up, his lips only taking a half beat to start responding, moving gently against Hoseok’s. Fuck it, he thinks, sinking into the kiss as Hoseok uses the force of his mouth to push Jungkook back down against the pillows. Hoseok’s hand smooths warm up over his chest, settling on the side of his neck and Jungkook can’t even remember what he was embarrassed about.
‘Gimme this,’ Hoseok mumbles against his lips. Jungkook feels the photo being tugged free of his fingers, is vaguely aware of Hoseok reaching across him to the bedside locker, though he’s really more caught up in remembering why he was embarrassed, but also how soft Hoseok’s lips still are even after this amount of making out. How does he even do that? Jungkook swears his own lips are like sandpaper already, but Hoseok’s feel like fucking daisy petals, it’s not—
Hoseok’s lips are really fucking soft, so it takes Jungkook a split second too long to realise what that noise was. The moment he does, however, he stops dead, his lips freezing mid-kiss against Hoseok’s, which he can feel curving into a slow, evil grin.
‘What the fuck?’ he demands, pulling back, eyes wide in outrage, flicking between Hoseok’s smirk and the camera in his hand, currently spitting out another photo. ‘Hyung, did you just—what the—who even does that?’ he sputters.
‘Gross couples.’ Hoseok shrugs, casually fanning the photo back and forth with a definite air of smugness. ‘You were being gross, I felt I deserved a shot.’
Jungkook is about to retort, but he can feel himself blushing again, so he shuts his fucking mouth before Hoseok can tease him further. He continues to glower while Hoseok smirks, waggling his eyebrows to try and make Jungkook laugh – it doesn’t work. He tries some more bizarre faces until Jungkook breaks with a grin and shoves his head away, snatching the photo off him while he’s at it and turning it over to look at it.
‘Oh my god,’ he groans, sitting up, Hoseok scrambling up behind him to peer over his shoulder.
‘Ah, cute~’ he coos – literally coos – right into Jungkook’s ear, an arm curling around his waist from behind. ‘See, that’s what Jimin and Jin-hyung are trying to achieve with all their gross couple videos. It’s a pity we can’t post it just to piss them off.’
As appealing as that sounds, Jungkook is still staring at the thing like it might leap up and claw his face off at any moment. It’s the kind of photo WeHeartIt would lap up, uncomfortably close, just the right amount blurry, the angle way off and yet somehow it works. Jungkook realises he’s never actually seen himself kissing someone before. Maybe that’s why his stomach feels odd at the sight of his lips moulded against Hoseok’s, eyes shut, his fingers just visible at the edge of the shot woven through the dark strands of Hoseok’s hair. The corner of Hoseok’s eye is crinkled a little, like he’s about to start laughing, but Jungkook looks utterly lost in it.
‘We need to destroy this,’ he says flatly, with half a mind to tear it up here and now, scrunch it in his fist, something – but it’s being plucked from his fingers before he has a chance.
‘No, we don’t,’ Hoseok replies, just as flatly, pressing a quick kiss to Jungkook’s mouth the moment he tries to argue. He’s already grinning when he pulls back, looking very pleased with himself.
Jungkook glowers. ‘Hyung—‘
And he’s kissing him again, but this time he doesn’t let up so quick and his lips are soft. So very, very soft. Within a minute, those lips have worked their memory-wiping magic all over again and Jungkook finds himself barely breaking the kiss as he moves to straddle Hoseok’s lap, arms winding around his neck again. He sucks Hoseok’s lower lip into his mouth, laves his tongue over it, nibbles gently till Hoseok’s moans. The softest.
‘Jeon,’ Hoseok mumbles. Jungkook hugs out a vague reply, still busy stealing kisses between Hoseok’s attempts to talk. ‘Thought you had a class. Don’t start what you can’t finish.’
‘It was just a theory lecture,’ Jungkook replies. ‘I can skip it.’ He pulls back to take a breath, giving Hoseok a chance to drop the last photo onto the locker with the others, his hands are sliding down the backs of Jungkook’s thighs, squeezing lightly, a definite glimmer of interest in his gaze when turns back to him.
‘Well, surely the tutorial we just went through was much more educational,’ he says, clearly trying hard to look and sound professional, even with his hands slipping ever closer to Jungkook’s ass.
‘Mm,’ Jungkook hums, licking teasingly at the freckle on Hoseok’s upper lip. ‘I do better with hands-on learning anyway, hyung.’
At that, Hoseok chuckles so softly, hands smoothing up over Jungkook’s ass now as he tilts his head up for a proper kiss. ‘You’re welcome,’ he murmurs.
When Jungkook wakes some time later, the lighting in his room has changed from pale grey-white to the warm yellow of his desk lamp. He groans the moment he stretches out his legs, feeling the ache of exertion in every goddamn inch of his body, not to mention the grime of dried sweat clinging to his skin, the smell of sex still hanging thick in the air. He’s alone now, but he has vague recollections of Hoseok leaving, waking him when he turned on the lamp, struggling back into his damp jeans, a quick kiss pressed to Jungkook's sleep-slack lips. Hoseok also stole his water bottle, he realises, when he reaches over now to grab it from the bedside locker, his fingers skimming thin air.
‘Asshole,’ Jungkook mumbles through a yawn, letting his searching fingers fall instead on the stack of photos. He uses his feet to push himself up against the pillows a little, rubbing at his face, scraping hair back out of his eyes.
It still stands, what he thought earlier, about these being some of his best work. He thinks the same again flicking through them now, every single one making him pause, take a beat to survey every detail caught in the photo. He’s only re-studied about half of them when he realises he’s missing some – the picture of himself, for one. He snorts at that, rolling his eyes as he sifts through the rest of them, trying to remember what shots he took and which ones might’ve disappeared. At first, he thought Hoseok might’ve stolen the one of himself sleeping, but no. It’s there, at the back of the pile, Hoseok just as soft and serene as he was earlier. It really is a stunning shot, stunning in a much different way from the others, but Jungkook doesn’t spend too long thinking about that. He flicks through the stack one more time before he remembers.
The gross one. The one taken without his permission. The one of them kissing.
Hoseok took it, along with the photo of Jungkook, and something about that makes his stomach turn over, a weird, warm tingle running under his skin.
Why would Hoseok want to keep a photo of them kissing?
Jungkook scoffs to himself at the thought before pushing it firmly from his mind. Who knows what goes on in Jung Hoseok’s brain? Jungkook certainly doesn’t and he doesn’t care to either. Tapping the stack back into shape, he shoves himself up into a sitting position, muscles protesting. He reaches over to drop the stack back beside the camera – which is when he notices another photo, laying face-down on the bedside locker.
That’ll be the gross one, he reckons, not at all disappointed by that fact, but when he picks it up and spins it between his fingers to face the right way… It’s not the gross one.
It’s of him, looking like he’s been through the wars, hair tugged every which way, a giant hickey blooming on his shoulder. He’s asleep, looks pretty peaceful, too, his face smoothed over save for a faint line between his eyebrows as if he’d been mildly disturbed in the recent past.
He also has 바보 written in thick, black strokes across his forehead.
‘No,’ he murmurs, staring at the photo, eyes narrowing. ‘No, no, he fuckin’—‘
It’s at this point that Jungkook spies the black Sharpie on the bedside locker right next to his camera.
jk | 19:42
U FUCKING ASSHOLE
hyung | 19:45
u look cute when ur sleeping