Call him a virgin again, try to wound his ego.
Shit.
That night where Yoongi had whined for him, just like he was now.
Namjoon didn’t know what to do, except stare back, and try his best not to cum in his pants.
“Namjoonie, why are you hard?”
"You tell me," Yoongi had laugher in his deep voice, and it made Namjoon's skin feel hot. "Is it the pastels, Joon? Is it cute?"
"Am I looking like the doll in your rap fantasy, huh? What were the lyrics again?"
"Barbie blonde sex doll, right? No wonder you nearly creamed your jeans over the underwear last month, must have been your dream come true, seeing me like that."
When Yoongi nosed against Namjoon, right over his aching cock, Namjoon nearly blacked out.
"Kinda cute when you're quiet, Namjoonie, you should shut up more often--"
Fine.
Fucking fine.
It was kinda funny.
It was hilarious.
Namjoon screeched.
Jesus fucking /Christ/.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
I'm gonna cum, he wanted to shout, but inside, only pathetic groans slipped past his lips, Yoongi humming around his dick.
And then, Yoongi gurgled, tilted his head--
No one had done that before, no one--
Fuck.
Fuck.
Namjoon cupped it, too exhausted to feel disgust, and Yoongi stood up, looking proud.
Namjoon didn't feel anything, ignoring Yoongi, hand full of mess, blinking stupidly instead as his cock sat soft and wet between shaking thighs.
Just as Yoongi went to leave, wiping his hands on white wash denim, Namjoon spoke, softly.
Yoongi turned back, pausing, before reaching for the hem of his sweater, tugging up, pulling his jeans low on his hips.
Briefs.
Black briefs strapped across sharp hips, the soft of his tummy on display, and Namjoon groaned.
Only for you, was all Namjoon took in, as Yoongi left the room.
Only for you, Namjoon.
Yoongi just sucked my dick.
He just... sucked my dick?
It had been a long time, since Namjoon had done stuff with anyone, a long, long time.
But that... that was too fast, right?
And then Yoongi had spat it aaaall back into his hand, a literal, actual comeback.
And then, the briefs, the last nail in Namjoon's coffin tonight, after being murdered in a public bathroom.
The briefs.
Pastel pretty Yoongi, with glitter on his eyes, in black briefs, where Namjoon expected lace.
This whole night wasn't fair, and Namjoon didn't know how he was gonna be able to go back into that room and see Yoongi there, see Yoongi on his phone, ignoring him, while knowing that Yoongi had deepthroated him with an ease that made him sweat.
But Namjoon had to go back, for Hobi, couldn't leave and abandon Hoseok after promising to look after him, not on such an important night for his best friend.
So what, if Yoongi timed how fast it took for him to cum. So what.
It was Hoseok's night. Hoseok's.
"Uh?"
"They locked it," Yoongi looked irritated, not glancing up.
Then Namjoon heard the sounds.
Oh.
Ohhh.
Oh yep, that was a moan, that was a Hoseok moan, breathy and whiny and Namjoon froze solid where he stood.
What a fucking weird night.
Namjoon asked the dumbest question.
"How long as they gonna be?"
Yoongi snorted.
Namjoon felt his ears burn with shame.
"That... that wasn't..."
"Don't worry, it's fine," Yoongi teased, mocking Namjoon with a filthy wag of his tongue. "I'm used to it."
Used to it.
Oh.
No one else had, not until Yoongi.
He must... do this a lot.
"Kinda sounds like you just drop to your knees for anyone, Agust D."
"Only the people I hate, Namjoonie."
That sat heavy in Namjoon's stomach, as he took the elevator down to the lobby of the building, texting Hoseok with shaking fingertips.
Namjoon sighed.
It didn't matter.
It didn't matter, he didn't want anything to matter.
Not right now.
Sigh.
And Namjoon needed this right now, a sense of home, of comfort.
Don't be sorry, Namjoon texted back, eyes burning, like maybe he would cry. Just come home fast so we can hug.
I have Mcflurries, Hobi texted.
"You wanna talk about it?"
"No," Namjoon was shivering, icecream cold on his tongue. "I dunno. Maybe?"
Namjoon sighed, and recalled it all, watching Hoseok's eyebrows disappear beneath his messy fringe.
Yoongi gave me the best blowjob of my life, and then spat it back into my hand.
He wasn't wearing lace.
He makes me feel so small.
He does weird things to my tummy, and I don't know what to do about it.
Hoseok rubbed Namjoon's shoulders.
"He said he hated me," Namjoon finished, slouching. "It made me feel like shit."
"You... you said it first though," Hoseok finally spoke. "You nearly outted him to Jin, when he begged us not to, and you claimed his wins, when he couldn't defend himself. That wasn't nice, Joon, you know that right?"
Namjoon nodded, eyes wet.
Namjoon sighed, rubbing his eyes.
"It made me feel awful."
Hoseok bit his lip nervously, and paused.
Namjoon narrowed his eyes.
"What, Hobi?"
Namjoon hated this.
"I don't wanna talk about this anymore."
Hoseok sighed.
"Okay."
Upon waking, Namjoon realised he'd been selfish, not even bothering to ask Hobi about how HE went in the end.
"I know you did, I heard you through the door."
"Jin hyung's mouth," Hoseok gushed, eyes glittering. "It was amazing."
Not as amazing as Yoongi's.
Namjoon winced, but Hoseok rambled on, not noticing, excitedly telling Namjoon how Jin had helped him to the couch, had kissed down his chest and belly, had given Hoseok the best head he'd ever had, and then swallowed it all without complaint.
Yoongi spat in my hand.
"His moooOOOOooouth," Hoseok was wriggling in the sheets like a lovestruck teenager. "NamjoooOOOOOoooon. It was so good."
"Did you do anything back to him?"
"Not really, I kinda died after I came, it made me so sleepy."
"Ah."
"We had to pay for couch cleaning."
"We didn't make a mess," Hoseok look scandalised. "Jin just... handed over a pile of notes with a wink. I think they knew, so."
"Grosssss."
"Whatever, whatever."
Namjoon had to head home soon, had to prepare for his week, for work, had to revise his lyrics.
No sex insults, Namjoon thought, going over his scribbles. Not this time.
Call him a fraud.
That his blood is fucking purple, and that you wanna see it all.
Namjoon knew what he had was good, made better after the alterations, and he went shopping with Hoseok, found a cool hat, and readied his battle gear.
No such luck this time.
This was a new feeling, this sense of terror.
And he was alone.
"Are you sure thats a good idea?"
"I don't want you to see, in case it's really bad," Namjoon had winced at his own words, Hoseok holding his hand. "Please, I wanna go alone."
You look so good in your shame.
You'll bleed purple for me and I'll swallow it all.
Your crown is real, I've seen it all, and I'm going to steal it from you while you're on your knees.
While you bow to me.
Now spit, like that.
Good boy.
He was drenched by the time he wrapped it all up, sweating, but it felt so good.
He could still hear it though, from the bathroom, as he splashed water on his face and tried to block it out.
The words were mean, but Namjoon had had an entire month to steel himself, and he was prepared for it.
Words or tongue, it's my choice, and you can't fight me.
Wriggle for two minutes, cry for fourty seven seconds.
Say UGH!
Say it again.
Say UGH!
You sound so stupid, in the end.
But Namjoon felt good, he felt good, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like everything was back to normal.
So Namjoon felt good, went to leave, and was stopped in his tracks by a furious Yoongi, decked out in blacks, a bucket hat shadowing his face, scowling.
In blacks, at the bar, sweaty from a set.
But Yoongi was angry, was stopping him from leaving, and that was... not normal.
Stay calm, stay calm.
Yoongi spat the words, small teeth gritting, hands clenching at his sides.
"I didn't need to," Namjoon swallowed, finding his words face, trying to keep his pulse from rising. "I heard it all. Congratulations on the win."
"Shut the /fuck/ up, Namjoon."
Yoongi was so fucking angry.
Namjoon couldn't help but chuckle at it, at Yoongi's anger, at the wrath despite the victory, and even when Yoongi was pulling into his jacket, was dragging him to Agust D's reserved change room, Namjoon chuckled.
"Why didn't you watch?" Yoongi hissed, voice deep, rough from his set, almost cracking. "Why?"
"Because I don't care."
"Yes you fucking do," Yoongi was laughing, but it was manic, hands shaking where they held Namjoon to the brick. "You do, don't fucking lie to me."
Namjoon felt strong, in the face of this frantic Yoongi.
Namjoon didn’t care if they laughed, because he knew they would have done the same.
And Yoongi could never steal it back.
“But I guess you’d know all about that, hey Yoongi?”
Namjoon felt brave, with Yoongi like this, no witty retorts this time, just fury and cusses hidden behind sweet lips. “Fuck you, Namjoon.”
That line had always been stored in the back of his mind after reading it on the internet, in a thread titled “Cool Things To Reply With When Someone Tells You To Go Fuck Yourself”, but it slipped out like a reflex.
Oops.
Yoongi squeezed his dick again, and Namjoon had flashbacks to the bathroom, to the humiliation, to the sneer Yoongi had given him as he spat cum and drool into Namjoon’s shaking hand.
Not this time.
“Are you wearing a bra?”
Not silent enough, though.
Sensitive.
“Fuck off Namjoon, fuck off--”
“You want me to go?”
The lavender lace tucked away beneath the jacket was driving Namjoon mad, tempting him to tear it all away.
“Tell me to stop, and I’ll leave.”
Yoongi said nothing.
He couldn't see the front, not really, but Yoongi was in a bra, something sheer and delicate, skinny straps of lace pulling tight over his shoulder blades.
Yoongi was silent, didn't fight, when Namjoon released his arms to touch.
But that was too intimate, too weird--
It was war.
Whne Namjoon's fingertips found Yoongi's nipples, pert beneath lavender lace, Namjoon pinched on the wrong side of gentle, and Yoongi let out a wet gasp, jolting back against Namjoon's eager cock.
But Yoongi only gasped, arched himself into Namjoon more, and Namjoon pinched harder.
"Hurts," Yoongi's rough voice surprised Namjoon, reminded once more that Yoongi was Agust D, his rival, that it was supposed to hurt, because they hated each other.
"What, Agust D can't handle a little pain?"
"Shut up," was all Yoongi could retort, a crack in his voice.
"Is this your favourite colour? Did you wear this just for me?"
"No," Yoongi grit his teeth, hissing. "Get out of your imagination, Namjoonie--"
His ass was so plush against Namjoon's cock, and Namjoon couldn't deny how badly he wanted to push Yoongi against the wall, to ruin.
"Come on," Namjoon almost cooed, letting his hips jerk, letting Yoongi know how hard he was. "Ask me for it."
There was a damp spot forming on Yoongi's pants, and when Namjoon went to move his hand away, Yoongi whimpered, like a scared puppy, curling his face into Namjoon's neck.
"P-please," Yoongi's voice was so soft, so quiet, so perfect. "Please, t-touch me--"
The underwear was soft to the touch, like the bralette, like Yoongi, and Namjoon wanted it all.
Yoongi sobbed.
Yoongi's head dropped forward as he whimpered, and Namjoon felt brave once more.
"Your hand," Yoongi sobbed. "T-too dry, h-hurts--"
Ohhh.
Namjoon grinned against Yoongi's throat, let his teeth tease at a shoulder, raising the hand on Yoongi's cock to Yoongi's parted lips, and laughed.
"Then spit."
Yoongi tensed, and Namjoon wondered if he would, if he actually would--
"Please, please, p-please," Yoongi's voice was rasped, fucked out, stuttering without pause. "P-please--"
Yoongi let out a loud, frustrated whine, when Namjoon wrapped his fingers at the base of Yoongi's cock and squeezed, stopping the impending orgasm as Yoongi wept.
"No," Namjoon whispered, Yoongi crying. "Not yet."
The pretty rapper hissed when Namjoon worked a pace back up, fast, faster, the way Namjoon worked himself off when he was desperate.
Namjoon groaned at this, at Yoongi's stuttered enthusiasm, at the way Yoongi's ass looked pressed against where his own cock strained the denim of his jeans, and it was too much.
"'hate you," Yoongi slurred, tensing hard. "Fucking... h-hate you--"
Yoongi came as Namjoon uttered the words, biting at his plush lip to hold in his cry, throwing his head back into Namjoon's chest so hard that Namjoon swore he would bruise. It splattered up the wall, up Yoongi's soft tummy, all over Namjoon's hand--
Namjoon hardened, glared, feeling himself start to tremble.
Shit.
Mistakes.
"Get out," Yoongi spat.
Namjoon didn't mean to slam the door as he left.
"Can I come over?"
"Uh," Hoseok sounded guilty, sounded like he was about to cry. "I'm... I'm not home tonight."
Oh. Seokjin.
Namjoon sighed.
"It's okay," Namjoon rubbed at his eyes with the hand that he didn't use to make Yoongi cum. "I'm just gonna go home I think. Have fun Hobi, be good."
"Namjoon--"
Why, he thought, gritting his teeth, feeling the muscle in his jaw clench. Why does it always end like this, why are we doing this?
He hates me.
I... hate him...
Namjoon went to bed, didn't give it thought, didn't let his mind drag him back to it, forcing himself to sleep instead, skipping his shower, skipping his food.
He dreamed of Yoongi though, of course he dreamed of Yoongi.
In Namjoon's dream, Yoongi was sad, his eyes were rimmed with red, tears starting to fall down pale cheeks,
"Why?" Yoongi asked, voice wobbling. "Why?"
Dream Yoongi was standing, was turning, back to Namjoon as Namjoon watched him sob and shudder.
"Why do you hate me so much?"
Namjoon awoke, sweat drenched and startled, chest heaving, heart racing, tasting guilt on the back of his tongue, bitter, like lavender.
I hate this.
I hate feeling this way.
I hate that I don't hate Yoongi.
But I hate that he hates me.
I hate that he's better.
I hate that he's right.
Namjoon needed Hoseok.
He needed Hoseok, immediately.
Hoseok would know what to say, what to do.
Namjoon was out of the house in a flash, on the bus, Hoseok's house key in hand.
He knew Hoseok wouldn't be home yet, but Hoseok's was safe, Hoseok's was where he needed to be.
Namjoon sniffled, once, twice, and tried not to cry.
It was a in a state of mess, something rare for Hoseok, clothes strewn everywhere, bed left unmade.
He wasn't really sure, how he felt, honestly.
Kinda felt like he didn't deserve to see that, maybe.
Namjoon didn't like it, even though he knew he was at fault.
The weird, funny tickle in his tummy, the tickle that made him shiver and wriggle, the tickle that happened only when he thought of Yoongi.
He didn't know if that tickle had always been there, if maybe he'd been pushing it down--
Both hot, yet warm, uncomfortable yet not, like beetles in his guts, but cute beetles, made of cotton candy. Foreign, weird, but at home, like thats where they were meant to be.
Namjoon squirmed in the shower.
No, please.
Don't make me admit it.
Don't make me admit I have a crush on Yoongi, don't make me.
That's why he came here, after all.
Because Hoseok never took his bullshit, and Namjoon needed that firm hand to make him say it out loud, confirm it all.
The rap battles, their stage banter, even if it was cruel.
It would ruin Yoongi paying attention to him.
It would make Yoongi laugh.
Yoongi even said Namjoon could fuck him, last night, ass pressed to Namjoon's cock, lips wet with spit and begging so prettily.
He would never let Namjoon otherwise.
That's where the fun was right? Wasn't that the whole point?
We hate each other, so we can fight and fuck and it doesn't matter.
He couldn't make sense of it, it was too messy in his head, too many things that could go wrong, like a tangle of thread that he couldn't find the beginning of.
He needed Hoseok.
He could wait for Hoseok.
"What did he do to you?"
Hoseok flushed immediately, hands coming to cover his throat.
"I didn't think you'd be here! I was gonna cover it up!"
Hoseok glared.
"I mean! Not horrible! Just--"
"Is it really that bad?"
It was pretty bad.
Namjoon averted his eyes.
"Uhh.... n-no?"
"Oh no."
Hoseok showered, and returned in a turtleneck. Namjoon tried not to laugh.
He tried so hard.
Luckily, Hoseok was fast to bring his mind back to another place it definitely didn't want to be.
Namjoon winced, rubbing his neck, unsure of where to look.
"Uh... Yoongi. Yoongi happened."
Hoseok looked like he was trying to pick his words carefully.
"Did you... go after him again?"
"No, he came after me, this time. We--"
Namjoon pictured Yoongi, pretty, soft, mewling as his hoodie was teared down creamy shoulders, shivering as Namjoon wrapped a hand around his cute cock and squeezed.
"-- we did stuff. A-again."
So Namjoon spilled.
I didn't watch him perform. He was mad. He grabbed my dick. He was wearing lace again.
I jerked him off and told him I didn't care about him, as he came all over my hand.
And he was angry.
He was so angry.
I felt awful.
The look Hoseok always had, before he was about to force Namjoon to organise the bullshit scattered about inside his head.
"Here's what you need to do," Hoseok spoke, finally. "You need to make a pros and cons list."
"Mhm," Hoseok nodded, a glimpse of Seokjin's lovemarks peeking from beneath his turtleneck. "You're gonna list to me the pros of Yoongi, and then the cons. What's good about him, and what you hate."
"Why?"
"Because I said so."
"This is dumb."
"So are you."
"How do I start?"
"You tell me all the good things about Yoongi. As many as you can, no matter how small or random they might seem."
Namjoon grimaced.
Oh, he hated this already.
"Well... he's pretty good at rapping. I guess."
"He wins every month, go on."
"That's a good thing?"
Yoongi was beautiful with blonde hair.
"Um, yes. And he's small too."
"Okay. What else."
Namjoon paused.
"He's... good at sucking dick?"
Hoseok wrinkled his nose.
"Yuck, but okay. What else."
Namjoon spoke without meaning.
Namjoon touched his face, and wondered if Yoongi would ever let him touch that freckle. Hoseok's eyes widened, just for a second.
"What else, Joon?"
Oh god.
Oh god.
"Can we do some cons now? Please?"
Hoseok pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes.
"Sure."
"Why is that a con?"
"Because I don't win. I lose."
"But why is that a con?"
"Because--"
"Why is that a negative aspect of Yoongi?" Hoseok was to the point, keeping his tone even. "Why does that impact you in a bad way?"
Fuck.
"That's not a con on him then, Joonie. That's a con on you. Pick something else for your list."
Namjoon glared.
"Yoongi goes pink too easily."
Pink cheeks, pink knuckles, pink elbows, pink everything.
"Why is that a con?"
It's distracting.
I want to be the only one to see him go pink.
"... I don't know."
"Is this a con on you?"
"...yes."
"Pick something else for your list."
In the end, there was nothing Namjoon could add, that didn't reflect badly on himself.
Not one thing.
"I think I like him."
Hoseok looked at Namjoon like Namjoon had just pulled out a gun, eyes wider than dinner plates, mouth dropping open in shock.
"Did you just--"
"I like him," Namjoon groaned. "Shit, I like him, right?"
"All those lyrics," Namjoon buried his face in the couch, overwhelmed. "They came from my heart in the end, not my dick."
"... some of them definitely came from your dick."
"Shut up."
"He let you touch his dick, why do you think you'd be rejected?"
Namjoon sniffled.
"Because he hates me."
"I can't just tell him I like him though! He'll make fun of me in a rap!"
"I don't think--"
"I would die," Namjoon groaned. "I would die of shame instantly."
"I know," Namjoon rubbed his palms into his eyes, exhausted. "I know. I just..."
I like him.
And I've already fucked things up so much.
How do I come back from this, how do I make it okay?
How do I say sorry, for starting this fued?
And then I was jealous, because he's better than me.
He's better than me, and he never looked at me and I was jealous and angry.
I wanted his attention.
I wanted him to look.
It seemed like the only way to get his eyes on me, back then.
I fucked up.
Namjoon must have said it out loud, because Hoseok was gently crawling onto him, hugging him, running fingers through Namjoon's soft, washed hair.
"You can fix it," Hoseok whispered. "You can be honest, and you can fix it."
Tell him I actually admire him.
Tell him I think he's beautiful.
Tell him I'm sorry.
Next time I see him, I will, I will.
"It's got a pool!" Hoseok was so excited, reading over the text sent from his boyfriend. "He wants us to come and hang out!"
Namjoon had swallowed loudly, had frozen where he stood.
Hoseok narrowed his eyes.
"I dunno, you want me to ask?"
"No!" Namjoon gawped like a fish, floundering in panic. "No, I was just-- It doesnt matter if he is-- uhh--"
"So, that's a yes right? Pool party? Pooool party?"
It was getting hot, after all.
Namjoon tried not to think about Yoongi, tried not to get his hopes up or down.
He... wasn't ready.
He wasn't ready.
Nor was he ready for the possible image of a wet Yoongi in a pool, but that wasn't something to think about right now.
M-maybe later.
In the shower.
Seokjin lived in what seemed to be a manor, three stories, surrounded by land, parking the car into a garage that had more cars, all in different colours.
But Seokjin was a perfect host, leading them inside.
And thats when he remembered.
Yoongi was rich too.
Rich rich.
Oh.
The fact that not only was Yoongi better than he was, but that Yoongi was so far above him in social class, that it was laughable to imagine them being together.
His heart sank to the bottom of his stomach.
"Oh, you're back?"
That voice.
Shit.
They made eye contact and Namjoon wanted the cold marble floor to swallow him alive.
Yoongi took Namjoon's breath away.
Soft, fluffy blonde hair, a giant white shirt coming to his thighs, the hint of mint green swim shorts peeking out from beneath.
"Yeah," Yoongi was trying not to glare. "Hello again."
"Jimin and Kook are already in the pool, Tae should be here soon."
"You left Jungkook unsupervised in the pool?" Seokjin groaned, fingers to his forehead like a stern father.
"Jimin's out there too."
"That's... that's not supervision..."
Hoseok was occupied.
Yoongi was walking away.
"Guys, come say hi to new friends!" Jin was shouting at the water, before being splashed at and shouting.
Jimin and Jungkook were cute.
They waved from the pool edge, pulling themselves up, dripping wet, half naked.
Namjoon suddenly felt self conscious.
He... didn't look like Jimin or Jungkook.
Is that what Yoongi would like?
Oh god, it was insane, how pretty this boy was.
"I missed you hyung, where's my hug?"
"Put me down!"
"Not until you give me a kiss!"
A kiss.
Namjoon's stomach churned, and then flipped like a pancake.
What?
"Taehyung," Yoongi whined, actually whined, flushed pink, head to toe with embarrassment. "Down!"
"You heard me hyung," Taehyung was smiling, head tilting, almost nuzzling into Yoongi's neck. "I want a kiss first."
Namjoon felt like he was going to be sick.
"Can you guys not be fucking gross for five minutes? We have guests!"
"I didn't do shit," Yoongi flushed. "Yell at him, not me."
"Shut up Taehyung."
Namjoon didn't want to feel envious, when he shook Tae's hand.
But he did.
Jimin and Jungkook were jumping back into the pool happily, both fit and perfect, actively trying to drown each other, and Jin and Hobi were eyeing each other like meals as they stripped, ready for the water.
He'd never felt so self conscious.
Not that Yoongi was watching anyways, prone on a day bed, sunglasses on, scrolling his phone.
Sigh.
"Yeah, come on Joonie!" Jimin laughed, beckoning like a siren, everyone starting to join in.
Soon, they were all chanting.
Namjoon didn't let slip from his notice, the way Yoongi's lips curled into a smirk.
Namjoon grit his teeth, sighed, and decided it didn't matter.
He ripped his shirt off with a groan, and did his best not to hide himself with his hands.
Staring hard from behind the sunglasses, the sunglasses Namjoon could now glimpse through from the new angle.
Oh.
"You okay?" Jungkook was asking when Namjoon reamerged, long hair hanging over his eyes.
"He's clumsy," Hoseok added, wadding over, splashing Namjoon playfully. "Too big for his own good.
He didn't miss Yoongi's lips twitch.
When Jungkook suggested they play Chicken Fight, Namjoon wanted to drown.
"Yeah, lets play chicken fight!" Taehyung sounded overjoyed, flicking wet hair from his eyes. "I wanna dunk Jimin."
"Get fucked."
"I'll pair with Namjoon?" Jungkook's eyes were locked on him, wide and shiny, and it seemed impossible to say no.
"O-okay--"
"Hyung, come play?"
"No," Yoongi mumbled back, and it was cute, his voice an uninterested drawl.
"I'll drag you in."
"Don't you fucking dare--"
"Go away, you know I hate water Taehyung!"
"Hyung~!"
"No!"
Move in and pull him up from beneath the water, Yoongi gasping and thrashing, drenched head to toe, sunglasses sinking to the bottom of the pool.
Grab his waist and guide him up.
Yoongi was breathing hard from the chase, from the water, and he was shivering, so so cute.
Namjoon could see where his cock was like this, soft between his legs, and it sent a hot flush down his spine.
"Just wanted to play was all," Taehyung tossed Yoongi a towel, and Yoongi wrapped himself up with a frown. "You're too antisocial!"
Yoongi was back on his chair, bundled up like a new born kitten, and it was cute enough for Namjoon to force the image of Yoongi plastered with wet clothing from his mind.
And then, they were playing chicken fight.
Namjoon spluttered, and Jungkook gasped, waving his hands around nervously. One arm was tattooed with flowers, and his long hair was starting to dry, fluffy and cute.
"I MEAN, like, you w-wanna go on my shoulders, or--"
Jungkook was mortified.
"I think I'd probably break you back if I tried to climb onto your shoulders."
Jungkook shrugged, still bright red, fiddling his earrings.
"Nah, I definitely lift heavier than you."
Namjoon paused.
Was this... flirting?
"I'll carry you, okay? Just to be safe."
"Sure," Jungkook smiled, all wide, bunny teeth on show. "Let's destroy them."
Jungkook was an unstoppable fighting machine, apparently, and it was fucking tiring.
The opposing pairs got fed up fast.
"I'm done," Jimin whined, wrapping his arms around Tae's neck, sad. "No use against Kook."
"You always have a victory streak."
"Yeah, but--"
"Let's drown JK!" Seokjin suggested, and Namjoon left before they tried to drown him too.
Namjoon needed to pee.
"Where's the bathroom?"
"Which floor?"
"All, any. Go wild."
Namjoon patted down his damp hair, threw a towel around his shoulders, and smiled awkwardly at Jungkook's little wave goodbye.
He relieved himself, washed his hands absentmindly, and stared at himself in the mirror, grimacing.
The was so fucking weird, so fucking weird.
Between whatever Taehyung and Yoongi had, to Jungkook's shy flirting--
It felt more intimate that Yoongi's mouth around him had, felt more intimate then when he'd seen Yoongi in lace and made him cum.
Yoongi had been so soft, so pretty, so small in his hold.
Because what if Yoongi was Taehyung's?
What if Yoongi had someone, and what if Namjoon was just a random, angry fling?
It hurt to think that that might be the case.
And it was Namjoon's fault.
He didn't want to let himself forget that, didn't want to ignore it like he'd been doing.
And he told himself he'd do it next time they saw each other, and this had been too soon.
He had to be brave.
He had to say sorry.
"Taehyung?"
It was Yoongi's voice.
Coming from down the hall.
Maybe this was his chance, to finally say what he had to say.
The sight before him took him entirely by surprise, by the time he reached Yoongi.
--trying to reach a wine glass on a shelf that was too high up.
Oh.
C-cute.
But Yoongi didn't laugh.
Yoongi... didn't move, when Namjoon approached the cupboard.
Didn't move an inch.
Namjoon felt tingly, trapping Yoongi between himself and the shelves, Yoongi's breath hitching.
Yoongi was staring up at him, pink, pink pink, eyes wide, throat bobbing.
"Uh, the one... towards the back."
Oh.
Namjoon swallowed loudly.
When Yoongi turned, Namjoon could see the curve of his spine, could see the hint of black starting to leak through beneath his blonde roots, and it made him feel breathless.
He was so pretty.
Namjoon stepped closer, hand coming up, almost reaching it, almost--
"Wait, no, the... the one behind that row. Fourth row."
Namjoon didn't move, frozen in place, frozen--
"P-please, Namjoon."
He could see the flutter of long lashes from above, could see cute freckles, could see Yoongi sucking his lower lip inbetween cute teeth, and it was so much, so much--
Prayed to every fucking being that was watching, that he wouldn't drop the glass.
He was shaking, he knew Yoongi knew, and Yoongi didn't move, just stayed there, ass to Namjoon's crotch, breathing hard.
Like when he wanted to pull Yoongi apart, wanted to see Yoongi hurt.
This was weird, because he was horny but he wanted to kiss Yoongi, just kiss and kiss and kiss--
This was weird.
What was happening--
Taehyung's deep voice bellowed through the room, and Namjoon sprung away from Yoongi's backside in fright, not turning though, not wanting Taehyung to see the situation happening beneath his swim shorts.
Yoongi was bright red, eyes wide.
"Aww," Taehyung didn't even seem to understand the mood he'd just broken, grinning happily, bounding over, hair still dripping. "Poor hyung, I knew you'd be too short."
"Shut up, should have just got them y-yourself then--"
"Well, you go back outside and relax, us big boys can take care of it, hey Joonie?"
His boner was definitely gone now.
"Y-yep!"
"Huh?"
"Stay the night?"
Stay the night.
Would... Yoongi be staying the night?
"Sleepover!" Jimin shouted, filling his glass back up, slamming it back. "Yes, it'll be so fun!"
Yoongi swallowed the last of his glass, and stood.
"I'm gonna turn in. Night."
"Nah."
"Want me to come tuck you in?" Taehyung winked, and he looked devastating, made Namjoon feel small.
"No. Night."
"Yeah, okay," Namjoon could taste wine on the back of his tongue, swallowing nervously. "Let's stay."
It was warmer inside, the alcohol coming back in with them, as Seokjin led them into a living room, big couches, massive TV on the wall.
"Don't wanna embarrass myself," he'd murmur, shaking his head, wondering if Yoongi was asleep yet.
"Then I'll win for you, okay?"
"No, don't let Kook play," Jimin whined from the floor, in a tangle with Taehyung, pouting. "He's a pro at this game."
Jin put on a movie and snuggled close with Hobi, and Jimin left for bed with a wave.
Taehyung.
Yoongi.
Taehyung and Yoongi?
What if they were--
"Hey," Jungkook whispered, giant eyes shining in the dark. "Can... c-can I ask you something weird, Namjoon?"
Uh oh.
"Umm," he tried to pull his gaze from Jungkook, but it was impossible, with those glittery eyes on him. "Sure?"
Jungkook glanced around nervously, like he was steeling himself for Namjoon's answer, leaning in, a little more, whispering into Joon's ear.
"Oh my god, you are, aren't you?"
"Umm," Namjoon felt numb all over, like something was buzzing beneath his skin. "How... what?"
Seokjin and Hoseok were fast asleep in each others arms on the other couch, and Namjoon was so fucking grateful for that.
"You listen to my music?"
Shown?
His music was hard to find, on his shitty little site that no one clicked on.
"Oh, you'd never guess it from his appearance," Jungkook giggled cutely, eyes bunching up, pretty teeth sitting atop a puffed lower lip. "But Yoongi hyung is secretly into rap! He listens to it a-all the time. Surprising, right?"
"Yoongi?"
Jungkook's next words nearly knocked Namjoon unconcious.
Namjoon didn't know if he was still breathing. Jungkook's smile grew wider.
"I would even say... that Yoongi is your biggest fan. If he knew you were RM... I think h-he'd be so happy."
The guest room was massive and cold, and even the giant blanket over his body wasn't fighting away his shivers, wasn't warming him, wasn't making him feel good.
His biggest fan.
No way.
That was impossible.
It was... impossible.
But Jungkook knew who he was, and didn't know that Yoongi was his rival, his fucking enemy, didn't know that Yoongi handed him his ass on a stage once a month in front of everyone.
Needed to breathe--
Down one flight of stairs, stumbling, down another, feet hurting from where they'd kicked the wood.
There was so much happening inside him, regret, anger at himself, sorrow, and happiness too, a bright spot of it, glimmering beneath all the sludge clogging him up.
The long, deep moan stopped him dead in his tracks.
That... that was Taehyung.
Without a doubt, that was Taehyung.
No.
Fuck, no, let me out, out, let me out--
But he couldn't be sad.
He started a fued out of envy for no fucking reason.
And Yoongi didn't need him anyway.
It fucking hurt though, and there was no point now, no point to say truths, no point at all.
He needed something.
Something.
Yoongi's voice.
Namjoon couldn't even move, couldn't turn to face Yoongi, even as Yoongi was making his way closer, closer, closer.
He couldn't move.
Yoongi's voice was soft, in a way that Namjoon had never heard it before.
"Namjoon... are you okay?"
Yoongi sat beside him, and sank his own legs into the water, pajama pants getting soaked, Yoongi uncaring.
"Did Tae and Jimin keep you up? They're so loud, it should be criminal."
Tae and Jimin.
Ah.
"I... I couldn't breathe."
When he turned, Yoongi was staring at him, blinking softly, pale and pretty, throat bobbing as he swallowed noticeably.
"Can... can you breathe now?"
Namjoon shook his head.
"No--"
He didn't care that Yoongi winced, when his cold hands came to cup Yoongi's pale face. He didn't care when Yoongi's legs touched his beneath the water, like ice, burning his skin.
He didn't care, because he was kissing Yoongi.
Yoongi kissed back, gently, lips parting, lashes fluttering to kiss his freckles, long, pale fingers pressing to Namjoon's chest.
Yoongi tasted like mint toothpaste and sleep, and Namjoon groaned into it, pulling Yoongi closer, knees knocking, Yoongi whining.
He... was so beautiful, and Namjoon wanted to cry.
Yoongi wore regret in every limb, every feature, and Namjoon felt his heart break.
"No," Yoongi was pulling his legs from the water, shaking. "No--"
"I don't want this!" Yoongi looked furious suddenly, like a cornered, scared animal, snarling, tears falling. "I don't--"
"Yoongi--"
"I hate you," Yoongi spat, ripping his hands away. "And you hate me, and this is wrong--"
Why weren't the words coming?
I don't--
I don't hate you.
The words were trapped inside his throat.
All he felt was something squeezing inside his ribs, and a warm tingle from where Yoongi's lips had been pressed.
"I want to fight," Yoongi was wiping away his tears. "I want to fight you, a-and I want to win, and that's all--"
And Namjoon...
Namjoon couldn't blame him at all.
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