Thread by @kumatokkii

He was getting hard, didn’t know what to do, what to do, all while his hand was tight in Yoongi’s hair, forcing Yoongi to look up at him. Yoongi was staring like he was surprised to find himself on the floor, on his knees, and Namjoon prayed, prayed Yoongi didn't notice--

Oh god, Yoongi noticed, gaze snapping from Namjoon’s down to where his cock was tenting his pants, and it was mortifying, humiliating, as Namjoon waited for Yoongi to mock him.

Call him a virgin again, try to wound his ego.

But Yoongi just stared, blinking, the shimmer on his eyelids so sweet and alluring, making Namjoon’s chest heave, making his dick twitch in a way that was impossible for either of them to ignore.

Shit.

Yoongi licking his lips was not the reaction Namjoon had anticipated though, and his cock twitched again, like it had a mind of it’s own, like it was trying to get Yoongi’s attention, trying to ask for those pretty lips to open wide and swallow it down.

When a warm hand came to cup Namjoon’s dick, he couldn’t hold in the low groan, couldn’t disguise the way his legs started to shake, the way his belly tensed with arousal, and Yoongi was watching it all happen, watching Namjoon writhe beneath his palm with mischief in his gaze.

He squeezed and Namjoon hissed, bucking against his hand, pulling Yoongi by the hair, probably too hard, entirely by accident, and Yoongi let out one of those whimpers, the kind that had been haunting Namjoon in his sleep for the last month, since that night.

That night in the change rooms, that night where his hand was around Yoongi’s pale throat, where Yoongi’s slender thighs were on show, where a long shirt had hidden away pretty white laced underwear.

That night where Yoongi had whined for him, just like he was now.

Namjoon didn’t know what to do, as Yoongi traced the outline of his cock with pale fingertips slowly, as Yoongi turned his gaze upwards, pupils swollen with lust, lips parted slightly.

Namjoon didn’t know what to do, except stare back, and try his best not to cum in his pants.

Another squeeze, another groan, and Yoongi was sneering now, back to the person Namjoon knew him as, his rival, his enemy, the man who humiliated him time and time again.

“Namjoonie, why are you hard?”

Namjoon wanted to spit back something witty, something that would wipe that smug look from Yoongi's delicate features, but Yoongi squeezed again before words could tumble out, and Namjoon could only grunt, hips jerking forward, seeking more warmth, more friction.

"Why do you think?" was all Namjoon managed in the end, and Yoongi scoffed, tilting his head, making it tug on his own hair as Namjoon held tight.

"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?"

Yes, but Namjoon didn't say it, just glared down, trying to make it look as if everything Yoongi was doing was just a mild inconvenience. Yoongi knew though, he knew, he smiled like he knew.

"Am I looking like the doll in your rap fantasy, huh? What were the lyrics again?"

Namjoon grit his teeth, jaw clenched, turning his head, and Yoongi giggled, giggled and it was cute, cute, cute--

"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."

It was all Namjoon had been able to think about, but he didn't need to say it aloud, wouldn't give Yoongi 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--"

"You need to shut up," Namjoon hissed, trying to make his rage overpower his arousal, wishing his boner would die, wishing this was over, that he wasn't being belittled by Agust D in fucking pastels in a fucking bathroom. "Shut up, or I'll make you regret it."

"Shut me up then," Yoongi challenged, purring, and Namjoon shivered, watching that cute tongue peek out once more, watching those glittery eyelids grow heavy, dark lashed fluttering to kiss at porcelain skin.

Fine.

Fucking fine.

It annoyed him that he had to let go of Yoongi's hair to fish his dick out of his beige trousers, but Yoongi waited, grinning like someone was about to tell a joke, before his eyes flashed wide, faced with the sight of Namjoon's dick before his very face.

It was kinda funny.

Namjoon knew he was big, had seen that look before, from previous lovers and the occasional friend who caught a glimpse by accident (Hoseok, who couldn't stop talking about it for about four days, to Namjoon's horror), but seeing Yoongi's surprise--

It was hilarious.

But if Yoongi was intimidated, he didn't show it, just swallowed loudly, rolled up his sleeves, glanced at his watch once, and then surged forward, tongue first, mouth wide, taking him inside almost eagerly.

Namjoon screeched.

Jesus fucking /Christ/.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yoongi's mouth was warm and wet, pretty lips spread around him as Yoongi sucked, blushed cheeks hollowing, blonde hair messed up from where Namjoon's hand had been. Yoongi was loud as he worked Namjoon's cock too, sticky sounds, lewd and gross, and Namjoon felt his toes curl.

No, no, the heat was building too fast, too fast, but Namjoon was frozen on the spot, hands back in Yoongi's hair, feebly trying to pull him away.

I'm gonna cum, he wanted to shout, but inside, only pathetic groans slipped past his lips, Yoongi humming around his dick.

Yoongi's hands were on him too, gently kneeding at his thighs before one drifted up to jerk him off at the base, the other disappearing to somewhere unknown, somewhere Namjoon couldn't even bring himself to think about.

And then, Yoongi gurgled, tilted his head--

Namjoon was in his throat, oh god, he was in his throat, he was in there, Yoongi blinking up, tears leaking from his pretty eyes, and Namjoon whined, whined, whined, Yoongi's button nose pressed harsh against the trimmed base of his cock.

No one had done that before, no one--

It was when Yoongi pulled back to suck on the head of his cock that a finger pressed gently to his asshole, threatening, to breach, and Namjoon grunted, grunted like an animal, a loud "ugh!" echoing off the tiles as he came without warning into Yoongi's mouth.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Yoongi was smiling , eyes bunched cutely, but it was evil and made Namjoon feel fear, the cold wall behind not enough to stop the flash of terror race through him. Cum dribbled down Yoongi's chin, an erotic sight, and then Yoongi's eyes flashed to his watch again, lips curling.

Namjoon felt boneless, dead, drained completely, unable to do anything but watch as Yoongi grabbed his hand and opened his mouth over it, Namjoon's mess and Yoongi's drool pooling in his palm.

Namjoon cupped it, too exhausted to feel disgust, and Yoongi stood up, looking proud.

"You should feel embarrassed, Namjoonie."

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.

"Did you wear lace tonight?"

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 the stage," Yoongi's deep voice was tainted with laughter, eyes sharp, looking so dangerous, so hot, Namjoon's dick starting to firm up once more. "Only for the battle."

Only for you, was all Namjoon took in, as Yoongi left the room.

Only for you, Namjoon.

Namjoon didn't move for a solid five minutes after Yoongi departed, still holding cum and spit in his shaking hand, still trying to come to terms with what just happened, and not really understanding the why's or the how's.

Yoongi just sucked my dick.

He just... sucked my dick?

The water from the tap was cold enough to make Namjoon flinched as he washed away the mess, nose wrinkling as it all raced down the drain, body still trembling, still feeling exhausted. Namjoon wondered if maybe Yoongi was a demon, who managed to suck his soul out via a blowjob.

Namjoon recalled the encounter as he stared at himself in the mirror, patting his red cheeks down with water, blinking, judging himself.

It had been a long time, since Namjoon had done stuff with anyone, a long, long time.

But that... that was too fast, right?

Shit, it was too fast, and Yoongi had checked his watched, once, and then after Namjoon had shrieked and came inside that pretty mouth. Yoongi told him he should be embarrassed, and now that Yoongi was gone and Namjoon had time to think, the humiliation burned like brand.

It burned in every nerve, in his throat and behind his eyes, it burned down every ridge in his spine, and even now, Namjoon's toes curled inside his shoes, hot, hot, too hot to even breathe.

And then Yoongi had spat it aaaall back into his hand, a literal, actual comeback.

A comeback he couldn't even retort to, and that made it worse.

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.

It wasn't fair.

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.

Not fucking fair.

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.

When Namjoon finally managed to stagger back to the room, he was surprised yet again by Yoongi, sitting by the door, thumbing away at his phone, the glitter in the case shifting colour between pink and blue.

"Uh?"

"They locked it," Yoongi looked irritated, not glancing up.

"Why?"

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.

"Well, if your friend is anything like you, we'll be back inside 20 minutes ago."

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.

Namjoon didn't want to delve into that more, but his brain forced him to, reminding him of how eager Yoongi had been, on his knees before Namjoon, oh how easily he'd taken on the monster that was Namjoon's cock.

No one else had, not until Yoongi.

He must... do this a lot.

There was an anger there, and also a hint of jealousy, and Namjoon tried to ignore it, but like always, it was too hard to keep his emotions in check around the other rapper.

"Kinda sounds like you just drop to your knees for anyone, Agust D."

Yoongi tensed, flicking his eyes back to his phone, hunching where he sat, knuckles turning white.

"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.

I'm gonna wait at yours, Namjoon sent the text, sighing, pressing his forehead to the cold metal panel near the door. I'm sorry, I know I said I'd be here for you tonight... but I can't be around him anymore. I hope you're having fun Hobi, I'll see you soon.

Namjoon saw Yoongi leave the building not long after, Yoongi unaware of where Namjoon was sitting, waiting for his taxi. Yoongi looked tense, weird, pacing in small erratic circles, and then a car was there, a fancy car, and Yoongi was getting into the back, pastels disappearing.

Rich, Namjoon remembered, remembered what Hoseok had said. Seokjin and his friends... they're all rich. That was probably Yoongi's driver, or his family or...

Namjoon sighed.

It didn't matter.

It didn't matter, he didn't want anything to matter.

Not right now.

Sigh.

Namjoon was grateful for the spare key Hoseok had entrusted him with, when he let himself inside. He didn't use it often, but Hoseok promised Namjoon that if he ever wanted, he was always welcome.

And Namjoon needed this right now, a sense of home, of comfort.

He showered, using Hoseok's expensive soap because he needed it, changed into the biggest set of pajamas that Hoseok owned, and then crawled beneath the messy covers of Hoseok's bed, pulling them over his head, laying in the dark, breathing harsh through his nose.

His phone buzzed so he reached for it, a text from Hoseok, saying he was leaving soon, and that he was so sorry, so sorry, so sorry.

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.

Hoseok did have Mcflurries, and Namjoon shovelled his down his throat fast enough to bring on brainfreeze, making him whine pathetically, as Hoseok rubbed his back.

"You wanna talk about it?"

"No," Namjoon was shivering, icecream cold on his tongue. "I dunno. Maybe?"

"Wanna start with what happened when you guys left the room?"

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 so angry, Hobi.

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."

Hoseok looked conflicted.

"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.

"I know," Namjoon didn't want to cry, but it was happening anyways, sniffling, tears falling. "I know, I know, I just... I've never been able to beat him, I thought it would make me feel like I'd won, just once, but--"

Namjoon sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"It made me feel awful."

"Namjoon, you're a good person, and I know what you did, and the things you say... I know they don't come from a cruel, or hateful place... but this fued with Yoongi--"

Hoseok bit his lip nervously, and paused.

Namjoon narrowed his eyes.

"What, Hobi?"

"I think you know," Hoseok continued, looking conflicted. "Deep down, I think you know."

Namjoon hated this.

"I don't wanna talk about this anymore."

Hoseok sighed.

"Okay."

Namjoon found sleep quickly, with Hoseok as a big spoon, holding him close and warm, and Namjoon was grateful to escape into empty dreams, not a trace of Yoongi in them.

Upon waking, Namjoon realised he'd been selfish, not even bothering to ask Hobi about how HE went in the end.

"Oh!" Hoseok had been barely awake before Namjoon asked, suddenly alert, jolting up as if electrocuted. "Oh, yeah! We did stuff!"

"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.

Fuck.

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.

No, no, no.

"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."

"That's gross."

"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.

Yoongi was going to eat him, come next month, he knew that much, but it wouldn't hurt to try and spice up what he already had, try and make it sharper, make it hurt a little.

No sex insults, Namjoon thought, going over his scribbles. Not this time.

Call him a liar.

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.

The month went by too fast, a flurry of work, of revision, of Hoseok and Jin seeing each other more and more often, and then it was the last Saturday of the month again, and Namjoon prayed the bar was still being renovated.

No such luck this time.

The bar was packed, more than usual, and that made Namjoon sweaty, on the back of his knees and the back of his palms, but he was dressed to kill, sunglasses on, hiding the fear in his eyes.

This was a new feeling, this sense of terror.

And he was alone.

"I wanna go alone tonight," Namjoon had said, had practically begged Hoseok not to come.

"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."

Namjoon readied himself in one of the change rooms behind the shoddy stage, chains on, coat on, cap pulled low over his sunglasses. He stared at himself until he was being ushered out, and all that fear vanished, when the spotlight hit him on that stage.

You wear lies, and they suit you.

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.

Yoongi was watching, from the corner of his eye, but Namjoon ignored him, didn't turn to face him once, and he felt good, felt powerful, felt like maybe this was the night after all.

He was drenched by the time he wrapped it all up, sweating, but it felt so good.

Namjoon didn't go and watch, as Yoongi took the stage.

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.

You're not worth my time, no matter how little you take, I can destroy you with whatever I want.

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.

There was no point in staying around, no point in confrontation. Yoongi won, like always, and Hoseok wasn't here to drink with.

But Namjoon felt good, he felt good, like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders, like everything was back to normal.

Like that weird night hadn't existed, like it was a shared nightmare, like they both knew it would never happen again.

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.

Namjoon felt calm, even faced with Yoongi's wrath, even though this was about to shatter the normalcy Namjoon thought had returned.

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.

"You didn't watch."

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."

Oh, wow.

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.

The door was slammed and locked and then Yoongi was shoving Namjoon against the wall, snarling, those pretty, pretty lips curled back to bare pearly teeth.

"Why didn't you watch?" Yoongi hissed, voice deep, rough from his set, almost cracking. "Why?"

Namjoon didn't mean it, but he said it anyways.

"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.

The wall was rough, Namjoon could feel every ridge of brick and concrete pressing to his spine, but none of that mattered because Yoongi was glaring up at him, neck craned, pretty eyes shadowed by his hat, and Namjoon didn’t feel intimidated at all, not this time, not tonight.

Maybe it was the fact that Yoongi’s lyrics fell short tonight, not affecting Namjoon in the way the older rapper probably hoped, or maybe it was the fact that Namjoon knew his own words had struck Yoongi somewhere, in a place that only Yoongi knew.

His double life, his alter ego, Agust D and his pastel shadow, and no one out there, no one listening would know. Sure, Namjoon was aware the regulars in the crowd knew of their beef with each other, more so after Yoongi’s infamous name-drop, but--

Namjoon didn’t care about them, didn’t care if they knew he only lasted two minutes and forty seven seconds with Yoongi’s hot pink mouth working his cock like it was Yoongi’s God-given talent.

Namjoon didn’t care if they laughed, because he knew they would have done the same.

But they didn’t know about Yoongi, about Yoongi’s fluffy sweaters, about his purple converse shoes, didn’t know Yoongi’s hair could look so pretty brushed all flat and glossy, and that was what Namjoon had as his weapon now. Not to threaten to spill, never something so vile but…

Something that was his alone, something that Yoongi could never take away from him, and, as Namjoon chuckled in the face of his livid rival, he realised that was enough after all.

It was its own victory, this thing, this pretty pastel secret...

And Yoongi could never steal it back.

“Stop laughing,” Yoongi was growling like a feral animal, his white hands locked into the fabric of Namjoon’s shirt, small teeth on show, like a kitten about to bite. “Do you have no respect, how fucking /dare/ you--”

“Respect?” Namjoon questioned, brows quirking from beneath his sunglasses, amused at the idea of Yoongi struggling to gauge his expression. “Respect? Says the guy who spat jizz into my hand, AND name-dropped me in a diss track? That’s rich.”

Namjoon giggled at his wording, biting his lip with pride.

“But I guess you’d know all about that, hey Yoongi?”

“Fuck you.” Yoongi was shaking with rage, cheeks starting to flush pink, still glimmering with sweat from his performance.
Namjoon felt brave, with Yoongi like this, no witty retorts this time, just fury and cusses hidden behind sweet lips. “Fuck you, Namjoon.”

“Only if you get on your knees and warm me up first.”

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.

Maybe Namjoon was just thinking about Yoongi on his knees again though, maybe that’s why it came out, and Yoongi tensed in shock from the words, jaw dropping, pink flooding his cheeks to race down his throat.

He expected a hit, a punch, maybe something hard enough to break his nose even, but Yoongi grabbed his dick, grabbed it with both hands and squeezed, a look of utter distaste staining all of Yoongi’s delicate features.

“All you do is think with your stupid cock,” Yoongi hissed, holding Namjoon hostage like this, Namjoon starting to swell beneath the tight grip. “Maybe if you actually rapped about something that wasn’t daydreams of getting your dick wet, you’d be able to get on my level.”

Ahh, that was a low blow, in every sense of the phrase.

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.

Not this time.

It was easy to slam Yoongi against the wall, spinning their positions quickly, Yoongi grunting against the brick in surprise. It was easy to grab Yoongi’s arms as the smaller man was stunned with shock, pulling them behind his arched back, holding them sturdy with one hand.

Yoongi’s wrists were slender and pale against his black jacket, a sharp, delicious contrast, and Namjoon was definitely hard now, pressed harsh to the warm curve of his ass. The fabric of Yoongi’s trousers pulled taut, showcasing it's perfection, and Namjoon could have moaned.

And that’s when he noticed the lace.

A hint of lavender, soft and sweet, peeking out from beneath where Yoongi’s jacket had slipped down a broad shoulder, and Namjoon’s hips jerked at the sight of it, rocking himself against Yoongi, Yoongi letting out a muffled groan.

“Are you wearing a bra?”

“You wish,” Yoongi wriggled, huffing, Namjoon clenching around his wrists hard, but there was a waver in Yoongi’s tone, a betrayal, telling enough for Namjoon to know that a bra was exactly what it was, and that made him feel feral, borderline hungry for a proper glimpse.

Maybe it was his turn this time, maybe it was his night to rile Yoongi up, to see if he could make Yoongi break beneath his touch, the way Yoongi had broken him. It seemed fair, in Namjoon’s lust-addled mind-- it was definitely his time to try.

With his free hand, and without a hint of hesitation, Namjoon slid his arm around Yoongi’s waist, and cupped at his crotch, feeling Yoongi’s hardness beneath the baggy trousers, Yoongi letting out an almost silent whimper.

Not silent enough, though.

A gentle tap at where Namjoon knew Yoongi’s balls were, and Yoongi buckled at the knees, wobbling and gasping, held sturdy by strong arms as Namjoon rubbed his palm over the length of Yoongi’s trapped cock. He hadn’t expected it to be so easy, for Yoongi to be so…

Sensitive.

It was insanely hot, and Namjoon hoped he hadn’t made a mistake in deciding to push Yoongi around, hoped he wouldn’t dirty the inside of his briefs just from the sweet, soft sounds slipping past Yoongi’s pouted lips.

Had to hold on, had to claim this night, had to make Yoongi see that Yoongi could always be rivalled, no matter what the challenge was. Sex or the stage, Namjoon would not fall behind.

“Do they match?” Namjoon murmured, trying not to grin at the way Yoongi’s slim hips shivered and rolled, like they were resisting the urge to rut against Namjoon’s hand. “Are you wearing a cute set for me, Agust D?”

“Fuck off Namjoon, fuck off--”

“You want me to go?”

Yoongi was panting, entire body heaving with it, and Namjoon could see the nape of his neck glimmer with sweat, platinum blonde peeking out from beneath his bucket hat.

The lavender lace tucked away beneath the jacket was driving Namjoon mad, tempting him to tear it all away.

Yoongi didn’t say a word though, did nothing but shiver, even as Namjoon pressed himself closer, leaning over Yoongi’s curved form to whisper into a pierced ear.

“Tell me to stop, and I’ll leave.”

It was a long silence, Yoongi even holding in his groans, as Namjoon rubbed over his cock, but Namjoon thought it polite to ask again, just in case, just in case.

“Yoongi,” and Yoongi whined at his name, whined in the way that haunted Namjoon, the way that made his dick twitch, made him wanna growl. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll leave.”

Yoongi said nothing.

Namjoon ripped the hoodie down Yoongi's slender arms, without a second thought, and nearly blacked out at the sight.

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.

It was so pretty against his milky skin, set off by the blacks of his stage outfit, made a jarring sight with his hat still on, but it beautiful on him, truly, the lavender lace sinking into his soft skin.

Yoongi was silent, didn't fight, when Namjoon released his arms to touch.

Yoongi just let out a weird, broken sigh, when Namjoon's hands moved up to slide over the lace on his chest, and Namjoon was panting against the back of Yoongi's neck, wishing he could kiss the skin there, wishing he could bite it.

But that was too intimate, too weird--

They weren't lovers -- they were rivals, and this wasn't lovemaking.

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.

When Yoongi's head lolled back, Namjoon glimpsed down, following the elegant line of Yoongi's throat, the stretch of pretty collarbones, catching a hint of Yoongi's cock straining through his pants, before pulling his gaze back to where his fingers worked over patterned lace.

The rainbow of colours blooming across Yoongi's chest was glorious, the lavender of the bralette, the blush spattering Yoongi's white skin, and Yoongi's nippled were turning dark with the teasing, Yoongi letting out small huffs into Namjoon's throat as he was played with.

"You're so cute," Namjoon felt the words slip naturally, all breathy and heated, and when he realised what he said, he almost froze in terror, almost tensed and expected Yoongi to fight him.

But Yoongi only gasped, arched himself into Namjoon more, and Namjoon pinched harder.

Yoongi whimpered, and it was so cute it was almost painful.

"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?"

Namjoon couldn't see Yoongi's eyes, obscured by the brim of his hat, but he could glimpse doll lips part, a pink tongue flick out to lick them wet, could glimpse freckles on his round cheeks growing dark from blush.

"Shut up," was all Yoongi could retort, a crack in his voice.

Namjoon grinned, chuckling as he pinched again, Yoongi shuddering, nose scrunching, mouth falling open as he mewled like a kitten.

"Is this your favourite colour? Did you wear this just for me?"

"No," Yoongi grit his teeth, hissing. "Get out of your imagination, Namjoonie--"

Yoongi wailed, when Namjoon grabbed at his cock once more, forcing them closer, Yoongi's back flush entirely with Namjoon's front. Yoongi was a wriggling mess, when Namjoon thumbed over where the head of cock was, like he was trying to fight back his moans, failing fast.

"Want me to touch you?" Namjoon wanted Yoongi to say it, wanted to hear Yoongi beg, wanted to hear him beg more than anything in the world.

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.

Yoongi's lips were sealed, no words spilling past, not even when Namjoon thumbed over an abused nipple with one hand, the other stroking th tent in Yoongi's pants.

"Come on," Namjoon almost cooed, letting his hips jerk, letting Yoongi know how hard he was. "Ask me for it."

"Just fucking do it--" Yoongo groaned, chest heaving, so so pretty in his little dainty bra. There was a softness to his chest, the curves of his pecs catching the dim lights, and Namjoon wanted to bite at them, suck his marks into them, make Yoongi cry from his teeth, his mouth-

"Ask nicely."

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 way Namjoon tore down Yoongi's pants was feral, the fabric pooling around slender ankles, bunched up over giant boots, leaving his slender thighs bare, cute ass clenching from the sudden temperature drop. Yoongi gasped from it, surprised, cut off as Namjoon palmed his ass.

"God," Namjoon couldn't keep his words in, felt them tumble out, eyes growing wide behind his sunglasses at the sight of Yoongi's ass in scraps of lavender lace. "What the fuck."

The underwear was soft to the touch, like the bralette, like Yoongi, and Namjoon wanted it all.

If Yoongi had words to say, they were swallowed back down, Namjoon's hand's back at work, one of his chest, pulling them together, and one sinking beneath a delicate strip of elastic, tickled by the lace, taking Yoongi in his hand, touching Yoongi properly.

Yoongi sobbed.

It was strange, Yoongi in his lingerie, in his black hoodie and his hat, but it made Namjoon feel greedy, feel good, like both aspects of Yoongi were his right now, pastels and shadows combined.

Yoongi's head dropped forward as he whimpered, and Namjoon felt brave once more.

He didn't bite hard, just a gentle press of teeth and lips, but Yoongi thrashed and moaned, legs shaking, ass jiggling against Namjoon's aching dick, and it was such a pretty sound that Yoongi made when Namjoon licked over the imprint of teeth, such a pretty sound--

Namjoon stroked him firm and slow, sucking against Yoongi's nape, his throat, tasting sweat and lust and maybe the hint of a fruity lotion, and then Yoongi was calling his name, small, pained groans of "Joon, wait, wait, wait".

"Your hand," Yoongi sobbed. "T-too dry, h-hurts--"

Oh.

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--

Yoongi's spit was gross, hot and sticky in Namjoon's palm, slipping between his fingers to drip down Yoongi's chest, tainting the pastel lace. Yoongi was shivering too, and Namjoon took pity, didn't tease, didn't laugh anymore.

"Good boy," was all Namjoon murmured into a pierced ear as he took Yoongi's cock back into his messy hand and stroked, base to tip and back, watching Yoongi shatter like glass beneath his touch.

Namjoon didn't tease anymore, just jerked Yoongi off like they were in a hurry, and Yoongi was babbling, was crying, tears spilling from beneath the edge of his bucket hat.

"Please, please, p-please," Yoongi's voice was rasped, fucked out, stuttering without pause. "P-please--"

Namjoon knew it was evil, cruel, but he did it anyways.

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."

"F-fuck you," Yoongi was a sniffling mess, a mess of tears and spit, his cute dick leaking from the withdrawn attention. "F-fuck you, fuck--"

The pretty rapper hissed when Namjoon worked a pace back up, fast, faster, the way Namjoon worked himself off when he was desperate.

"Is that what you want?" Namjoon was being cheeky now, pushing Yoongi to the wall, cheeks and chest pressed to the brick, pulling Yoongi's hips back as he jerked him off hurriedly. "You wanna fuck, Agust D?"

"Yeah," Namjoon didn't even know if Yoongi knew what he was saying. "Y-yeah, yeah okay, y-yeah--"

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.

"Maybe next time," Namjoon hissed, listening to Yoongi lament, feeling Yoongi's cock twitch in his hand, knowing Yoongi was close, close, close. "Wanna ruin your ass on stage first. Wanna win, wanna beat you."

"'hate you," Yoongi slurred, tensing hard. "Fucking... h-hate you--"

"I don't care."

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 tried to ignore it, the hurt in Yoongi's gaze, as the smaller man turned to look at him, bucket hat askew, blonde hair plastered to his forehead. There was something there, something that made Namjoon's stomach churn, before Yoongi was pulling his hoodie back, pants up.

"I will never let you," Yoongi was pink, breathless and beautiful, but he was angry again, hunched against the wall, shaking all over. "That stage is mine, and you will /never/ take it from me."

Namjoon hardened, glared, feeling himself start to tremble.

Shit.

Mistakes.

"We'll see," Namjoon managed to get out, swallowing loudly, hand wet, Yoongi's mess cooling on his skin, flashbacks of the bathroom, of the mess in his hand, of Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi. "We'll see."

"Get out," Yoongi spat.

Namjoon didn't mean to slam the door as he left.

It was cold, outside, as Namjoon pulled out his phone and speed dialled Hoseok.

"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.

"But you got your keys right? You can... you're always welcome to come over Joonie, even if--"

"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--"

Namjoon hung up, turned his phone off, and waited for the next taxi, in the dark, alone, alone, alone.

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...

Right?

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.

But Yoongi looked sad in this dream, not sexy in his laces, not intimidating on a stage that towered Namjoon.

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?"

"Why what?"

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, Namjoon thought, cradling his head in his hands.

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.

I hate that I can't bury these feelings, and I hate that they are getting worse.

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.

Hoseok would know what to do.

It wasn't even proper morning yet, when Namjoon had jolted awake from sad dreams of Yoongi, the sun barely starting to cast light outside his window, the day barely beginning.

He knew Hoseok wouldn't be home yet, but Hoseok's was safe, Hoseok's was where he needed to be.

The bus ride was a blur, of trees racing by, of sunlight staining everything gold, and when Namjoon was off the bus, up the flat stairs, pulling his keys from his pocket and letting himself in, it felt like home.

Namjoon sniffled, once, twice, and tried not to cry.

He managed to hold back the tears, kicking off his shoes, ripping off his jacket, tossing his bag onto the couch, before making for Hoseok's room.

It was a in a state of mess, something rare for Hoseok, clothes strewn everywhere, bed left unmade.

Must have been stressed, Namjoon thought with a giggle, picturing Hoseok packing an overnight bag to go and spend the night with Seokjin for the first time. Poor Hobi, must have been freaking out so bad.

The water in the shower was hot, so hot it hurt, but Namjoon felt weird and dirty, needed to clean every inch of himself, scrubbing into his reddening skin with soap and scrub, as if it could rid him of how he felt.

He wasn't really sure, how he felt, honestly.

He felt bad, firstly, for what had happened the night before. He felt bad for pinning Yoongi against a wall and getting him off, for seeing him in lavender lace, for thinking Yoongi looked cute as he came up his pale tummy.

Kinda felt like he didn't deserve to see that, maybe.

He felt weird for leaving the way he had, for Yoongi's anger, for what he thought he saw as hurt in Yoongi's sharp eyes. He shouldn't have said what he said, really, but it had happened, and Yoongi had been angry.

Namjoon didn't like it, even though he knew he was at fault.

The worst feeling was the tickle though.

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--

But if he had, it was back now, and it felt... indescribable.

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, he didn't want to admit it.

No, please.

Don't make me admit it.

Don't make me admit I have a crush on Yoongi, don't make me.

But Namjoon knew that even if he did everything in his power to deny it, Hoseok would force it out of him eventually.

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.

Maybe he was scared, maybe that was it, the fact that if he admitted it, especially to Yoongi, that it could ruin everything.

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 laughed at him anyways, but Yoongi also let Namjoon see the lace, let Namjoon touch him.

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.

This was a game of hate, where they got off on the struggle, the battle, trying to push the other beneath the water, rising back up to fight again.

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.

Namjoon banged his head to the tiles and groaned.

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.

When Hoseok got home, Namjoon was on the couch, watching cartoons, eating cereal from a large tupperware container, and when they met gazes, Namjoon choked on milk and cheerios.

"What did he do to you?"

Hoseok was a mess, red sucked up his throat, BOTH sides, lips swollen and bright, bags beneath his eyes, usually neat hair looking like birds could nest in it.

Hoseok flushed immediately, hands coming to cover his throat.

"I didn't think you'd be here! I was gonna cover it up!"

"Jesus, did he try to murder you? You look horrible."

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.

Hoseok sat delicately, and Namjoon tried really hard not to picture Hoseok being railed so hard that it hurt to sit on the couch.

He tried so hard.

Luckily, Hoseok was fast to bring his mind back to another place it definitely didn't want to be.

"What happened last night, Joon? You... sounded really upset on the phone."

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?"

Namjoon shook his head.

"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."

"Tell me what happened, hey?"

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.

Hoseok pondered for a while, before giving Namjoon THAT look.

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."

"Pros and cons?"

"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."

Namjoon sighed.

"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."

"He's blonde."

"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.

"He's got freckles," Namjoon's voice was soft, deep in thought. "You can barely see them, except one right here, near his nose."

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?"

Namjoon realised what he had said, snapping his mouth shut, trying not to flush with shame.

Oh god.

Oh god.

"Can we do some cons now? Please?"

Hoseok pursed his lips, narrowed his eyes.

"Sure."

"He's wins every month."

"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?"

"Because I'm jealous!"

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 too cute.

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.

Namjoon hated it, hated that he'd have to say it.

"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?"

"Yes," Hoseok reached out to squeeze his hand. "I think you've liked him for a long time."

"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."

"What do I do now?" Namjoon looked lik a child, pouting, turning to Hoseok for advice. "I don't know what to do, I don't know if I could survive being rejected."

"He let you touch his dick, why do you think you'd be rejected?"

Namjoon sniffled.

"Because he hates me."

"But," Hoseok countered, smiling. "What if that's just your big dumb brain telling you nonsense? Hey?"

"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."

"You are being a giant baby."

"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?

I admired him, that's how it started.

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.

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."

Namjoon decided, after the next rap battle, he would be honest. The next time he saw Yoongi, Namjoon convinced himself, he would say his truths.

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.

Didn't expect it to be so soon though.

He nearly rejected it, the offer, to go with Hoseok to Seokjin's house.

"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.

"Will... Yoongi be there?"

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.

And so there he was, a week after the rap battle, in the back of a fancy car, Seokjin having picked them up, Hoseok giggling in the front as the love birds chatted.

Namjoon tried not to think about Yoongi, tried not to get his hopes up or down.

He... wasn't ready.

He promised himself he would tell Yoongi next time, but this... this was too soon.

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.

Hoseok had said Seokjin was rich, but this was kinda fucked up.

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.

The floors were marble, there was a wooden staircase leading up and up with weird things carved into the bannister, angels and all that bullshit, and Namjoon had never felt more out of place.

And thats when he remembered.

Yoongi was rich too.

Rich rich.

Oh.

That had slipped his mind, when he'd planned to confess.

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.

Maybe it wasn't too late to fake a stomach ache and get the fuck out--

"Oh, you're back?"

That voice.

Shit.

They made eye contact and Namjoon wanted the cold marble floor to swallow him alive.

"Yoongi, you remember Seokie and Namjoon, right?"

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."

"Anyone else here yet?"

"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..."

The pool was huge, and Namjoon didn't know what to do with himself, didn't want to stare at Yoongi's pretty legs as they met beneath the terrace, as Namjoon dropped his bag onto a sun chair and fiddled with his drawstring nervously.

Hoseok was occupied.

Yoongi was walking away.

Shit.

"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.

Jimin was small, like Yoongi, but he was fit, had pretty hair, a straight nose, plush lips, and a tattoo scrawled across his ribs that seemed too sexy to be allowed, and Jungkook was pure, lean muscle, paired with a baby face, dark hair in wet curls framing it, arms tensing.

Namjoon didn't mind his own body, liked that he was tall and big, but he struggled to put on muscle like this, so parts of him were soft.

He... didn't look like Jimin or Jungkook.

Is that what Yoongi would like?

Just as introductions were about to be made properly, someone was bounding up behind them all, and Yoongi was shrieking, pulled up into strong arms, writhing in the hold of a very, VERY pretty boy.

Oh god, it was insane, how pretty this boy was.

"Fuck off Taehyung!" Yoongi screeched, skinny legs kicking, the newcomer, Taehyung, grinning with a wide, boxy smile.

"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.

A kiss?

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.

Luckily, Seokjin was having none of it, fake gagging, ready to step across and rescue Yoongi from the strong arms of the gorgeous stranger.

"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."

"'Not my fault Yoongi hyung is so cute and little," Taehyung said it like a fact, shrugging, reaching for Yoongi again, Yoongi fleeing from Taehyung's vicinity. "Such a cold hyung."

"Shut up Taehyung."

Namjoon didn't want to feel envious, when he shook Tae's hand.

But he did.

Taehyung was disgustly pretty, long lashes, long hair, curled and dark, complimenting caramel skin. Taehyung's lips were curved and sensual, and he was big too, not as big as Namjoon, but enough so that Namjoon found himself standing straigter, puffing out his chest, just a bit.

When everyone started to ready for a swim, Namjoon started to freak.

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.

Taehyung was in next, tearing off his shirt to ditch against a sun chair, throwing himself into the water, jumping on Jungkook with a shout, and Namjoon was frozen beneath the terrace, hands on the hem of his own shirt, suddenly so, so nervous.

He'd never felt so self conscious.

Every body is beautiful, he recalled reading online, but those words were soothing his soul here, weren't giving him the courage he needed to strip off in front of Yoongi,.

Not that Yoongi was watching anyways, prone on a day bed, sunglasses on, scrolling his phone.

Sigh.

"Come on Joonie," Hoseok was calling from the shallow end, wearing his sunshine smile as Jin wrapped an arm around his waist. "The water feels so nice!"

"Yeah, come on Joonie!" Jimin laughed, beckoning like a siren, everyone starting to join in.

Soon, they were all chanting.

"Namjoonie! Namjoonie! Namjoonie!"

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.

He could see Yoongi out of the corner of his eye as he approached the pool edge, trying not to let his gaze linger, before noticing Yoongi was staring.

Staring hard from behind the sunglasses, the sunglasses Namjoon could now glimpse through from the new angle.

Oh.

The knowledge that Yoongi was watching made him stumble, tripping on his own foot, accidentally tumbling towards the pool with a shout, suddenly enveloped with cool water and happy cheering.

"You okay?" Jungkook was asking when Namjoon reamerged, long hair hanging over his eyes.

"Umm, yes," Namjoon remained neck deep, embarrassed, not wanting anyone to see the way his blush would probably be racing down his chest.

"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 Jimin suggested pool games, Namjoon wanted to run.

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."

Hoseok was already clambering his way onto Seokjin's back, and Namjoon was stiff with terror, suddenly shy, backing away.

"I'll pair with Namjoon?" Jungkook's eyes were locked on him, wide and shiny, and it seemed impossible to say no.

"O-okay--"

And then Tae was grinning, teeth on show, his gaze flicking to Yoongi, who Namjoon had been trying so hard to ignore.

"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--"

When Taehyung pulled himself up the pool edge, arms tensing, wearing a feral smile, Yoongi was shouting in distress, and Namjoon could only watch as Yoongi retreated in fear, Taehyung stalking him down aggressively.

"Go away, you know I hate water Taehyung!"

"Hyung~!"

"No!"

When Taehyung captured Yoongi, and tossed him into the pool, Namjoon's first reaction was to move.

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.

Namjoon had never really touched Yoongi like his, in a way that wasn't meant to hurt or degrade, and Yoongi's waist was sturdy and soft as Namjoon set him up against the edge of the pool.

Yoongi was breathing hard from the chase, from the water, and he was shivering, so so cute.

It was as Yoongi cussed out Taehyung, that Namjoon finally took in the sight of Yoongi's chest, his sheer white shirt stuck to every curve of him, the gentle slope of his pecs, his pink nipples, the little bunch of fat on his tummy as Yoongi sat to catch his breath.

It was worse when Yoongi leaned back, shaking the water droplets from his blonde hair, brows furrowed, his mint shorts soaked, sticking high to the top of his thighs.

Namjoon could see where his cock was like this, soft between his legs, and it sent a hot flush down his spine.

"Fuck sake," Yoongi was groaning, pulling his slim legs from the pool, knees pink, everything pink, coming to stand shakily. "You're an ass Tae."

"Just wanted to play was all," Taehyung tossed Yoongi a towel, and Yoongi wrapped himself up with a frown. "You're too antisocial!"

"Yeah, yeah," Yoongi rolled his eyes. "I know, I know."

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.

"Top, or bottom?" Jungkook asked.

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.

Namjoon thought it was hilarious.

"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?

He didn't want to even consider that.

"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.

Competitive and strong, Jungkook did not seem to know the meaning of the word "defeat", nor the term "taking it easy and having fun".

The opposing pairs got fed up fast.

"I'm done," Jimin whined, wrapping his arms around Tae's neck, sad. "No use against Kook."

"Aww!" Jungkook pouted, Namjoon trying to ignore how thick his thighs were, squeezing around his neck. "But we had victory streak!"

"You always have a victory streak."

"Yeah, but--"

"Let's drown JK!" Seokjin suggested, and Namjoon left before they tried to drown him too.

Yoongi wasn't on the chair anymore, Namjoon had been too busy trying to keep up with Jungkook to notice, and he wondered where his rival could be, wondered if he'd gone home maybe, or retired inside to hide from Taehyung.

Namjoon needed to pee.

"Where's the bathroom?"

"Inside," Jin called back, pointing at the door. Namjoon had to restrain so hard from rolling his eyes.

"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 didn't like the way the marble floor felt like ice beneath his bare feet, and he didn't like the house either, uncomfortable as he wandered the hallways, opening doors awkwardly, finding only bedrooms and closets.

Namjoon was grateful that he wasn't desperate for a bathroom, because he was sure he would have wet himself, by the time he'd finally stumbled across one.

He relieved himself, washed his hands absentmindly, and stared at himself in the mirror, grimacing.

Namjoon felt a little like he was floating outside of his body right now, blinking at his reflection, watching his chest rise and fall as he breathed.

The was so fucking weird, so fucking weird.

Between whatever Taehyung and Yoongi had, to Jungkook's shy flirting--

Not to mention the way Yoongi hadn't said a word to him, when Namjoon had touched him, had pulled him from the water, in such an intimate way.

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.

It was like that touch had sent him into shock now, because Namjoon felt heavy and light, all at once, and no matter how much he shook his head, tried to shake himself back to normal, it wasn't working.

Yoongi had been so soft, so pretty, so small in his hold.

Namjoon had wanted to kiss him like that, wanted to taste the chlorine on Yoongi's wet lips, but he couldn't.

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.

Even though it made sense, because they'd never spoken properly, had never exchanged words or lyrics that weren't aimed to poison the other with spite.

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.

He owned Yoongi an apology, even if Yoongi was Taehyung's, even if he was just a hate fuck or whatever the fuck they were 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.

Namjoon left the bathroom with a sigh, took fifteen minutes wandering hallways to gauge his surroundings and remember the way back, and then, just as he glimped the door leading back outside, he heard a shout.

"Taehyung?"

It was Yoongi's voice.

Coming from down the hall.

Namjoon decided to go after it.

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.

Yoongi, on his tip toes--

--trying to reach a wine glass on a shelf that was too high up.

Oh.

C-cute.

"You... want a hand?" Namjoon voice cracked as it came out, and he blushed hard, ready for Yoongi to belittle him for it, tense and waiting, completely forgetting he was half naked in the fear of being ridiculed.

But Yoongi didn't laugh.

Yoongi averted his eyes and nodded, coming back to stand properly, not saying a word.

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.

"Umm," Namjoon was hesitating, not wanting to get too close, not wanting Yoongi to become angry. "W-which glass?"

Yoongi was staring up at him, pink, pink pink, eyes wide, throat bobbing.

"Uh, the one... towards the back."

Oh.

Namjoon swallowed loudly.

The glasses were all the same, but Yoongi... wanted the one towards the back.

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.

"That one, behind the first two rows, you see it?"

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."

Yoongi was cold, when Namjoon pressed himself flush to his back, and it made him feel protective, like he wanted to swaddle the smaller man, tuck him into bed, rub him until he stopped shivering.

And then, Yoongi was arching back against him, and Namjoon's hands started to tremble.

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--

He prayed he didn't drop the glass, as he reached for it.

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.

Namjoon was hard, but it didn't... feel like the other times.

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--

"You get the glasses yet?"

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.

"I-- I c-couldn't reach, Namjoon was h-helping--"

"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--"

When Taehyung clapped Namjoon on the shoulder, Namjoon wanted to die of shame.

"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!"

It was starting to get cold outside, by the time the wine glasses were out and filled and emptied and filled again. Fairy lights flickered to life on the beams of the terrance, and everyone was chatting happily, while Namjoon tried not to stare at Yoongi.

Yoongi looked sleepy, sipping at his wine slowly, blinking slowly, not focused on the chat at all. The younger boys were still so loud and full of energy as they all shouted though, and then Hobi was pinching Namjoon's elbow gently, Namjoon coming back to reality fast.

"Huh?"

"Jin said we should stay the night, and that he can take us home in the morning, what do you think?"

"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!"

"We can stay up all night and play games!" Jungkook seemed thrilled, decked out in a giant jumper, pulling the sleeves down over his hands, shivering a little as the sun started to depart.

Yoongi swallowed the last of his glass, and stood.

"I'm gonna turn in. Night."

"Yoongi hyung, nooooo," Jimin whined, coming to stand, pulling Yoongi into an awkward embrace as Yoongi frowned. "Stay up and have fun with us."

"Nah."

"Want me to come tuck you in?" Taehyung winked, and he looked devastating, made Namjoon feel small.

"No. Night."

Yoongi was staying the 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.

Taehyung and Jimin set up some gaming console, and Namjoon watched everyone take turns at some racing game, passing whenever the console came his way.

"Don't wanna embarrass myself," he'd murmur, shaking his head, wondering if Yoongi was asleep yet.

Jungkook was by his side, close, maybe too close, smiling brightly, hair frizzy from the swimming pool.

"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."

They did this for hours, and Namjoon was getting tired, feeling heavy and sluggish, the pool and the sun and all the weird feelings of the day settling over him like a weird, draining blanket.

Jin put on a movie and snuggled close with Hobi, and Jimin left for bed with a wave.

Taehyung departed soon after, and Namjoon tried to settle his suddenly racing heart.

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?"

Namjoon tensed.

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.

"Are... a-are you RM?"

Namjoon knew he must have looked mortified, because Jungkook was staring at him, unblinking, hands clapped over his cherry lips.

"Oh my god, you are, aren't you?"

"Umm," Namjoon felt numb all over, like something was buzzing beneath his skin. "How... what?"

"I listen to your music online, it's really hard to find. Wow, oh wow, I k-knew it was you, I could tell from your voice!"

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?"

"Yeah, I really like uhh... like, homemade, underground stuff. But I struggle to f-find it sometimes, so I was so happy when I was shown yours. You're so talented, really... I'm s-such a fan."

Shown?

His music was hard to find, on his shitty little site that no one clicked on.

"How did you find it? I'm... really surprised--"

"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?"

Namjoon's heart skipped a beat.

"Yoongi?"

Jungkook's next words nearly knocked Namjoon unconcious.

"Yeah," the pretty boy looked so happy. "He showed me your stuff."

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 words rang around Namjoon head painfully, as he waited for sleep to come.

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.

Yoongi.

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.

Namjoon didn't know if he was breathing, felt like he hadn't inhaled a single breath since leaving the couch, since he'd sat there in stunned silence while Jungkook rattled off Namjoon's lyrics happily, unaware of the crisis in taking place in Namjoon's mind.

He needed to breath.

Needed to breathe--

The hallways were scarier at night, long and pitch dark, Namjoon stumbling down them as if drunk, trying to find a way out, outside, out, needed to breathe, needed to breathe--

Down one flight of stairs, stumbling, down another, feet hurting from where they'd kicked the wood.

He was clutching at his chest, pulling into the fabric, and briefly, Namjoon wondered if he was dying,

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.

Outside, needed to breathe, he needed out, out, out--

The long, deep moan stopped him dead in his tracks.

That... that was Taehyung.

Without a doubt, that was Taehyung.

He didn't know which room it was coming from, where in the house, but Taehyung was moaning, and Namjoon felt sick, felt sick, when he heard that deep voice utter the word "hyung."

No.

Fuck, no, let me out, out, let me out--

He wasn't crying but he fucking wanted to, bursting out through the back door, the chill of the late night nipping into his skin, like sharp teeth trying to devour him, sore and sick at what he'd heard, picturing Yoongi beneath pretty, pretty Taehyung.

But he couldn't be sad.

Because he'd told Yoongi that he'd hated him.

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.

It hurt when Namjoon dipped his feet into the pool, sitting on the damp edge of it, not caring that his pajama shorts were getting wet, not caring that he was shivering all over, that his nose was freezing, was probably turning pink and sniffly.

He needed something.

Something.

"Who's out there?"

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.

He couldn't move, not even when Yoongi was couching at his side, when he could see the pretty man out of his peripherals, concern dashed through all his tired features.

Yoongi's voice was soft, in a way that Namjoon had never heard it before.

"Namjoon... are you okay?"

Namjoon let out a shuddered sigh, so cold, so cold, feet and calves numb in the water. The moon was bright in the reflection, bright enough to throw light over Yoongi, making him seem unreal, ethereal, even though Namjoon couldn't move to look at him properly.

"I couldn't sleep," was all Namjoon managed to utter.

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.

Yoongi's legs were so small next to his own, and Namjoon sniffled.

"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--"

Their kiss was freezing, but Namjoon didn't care.

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 made a surprised sound, like a snuffled whimper, but he didn't pull away, didn't push Namjoon into the water like he rightfully should have.

Yoongi kissed back, gently, lips parting, lashes fluttering to kiss his freckles, long, pale fingers pressing to Namjoon's chest.

Namjoon parted his lips too, wider, just enough, and all that cold was suddenly gone, Yoongi's tongue to his now, everything hot, warm, burning.

Yoongi tasted like mint toothpaste and sleep, and Namjoon groaned into it, pulling Yoongi closer, knees knocking, Yoongi whining.

Yoongi's face was so small in Namjoon's hands and he was in love with the feeling of it, a thumb brushing against that one freckle that Namjoon adored, lips slotting together in a slick slide, Yoongi trembling beneath his touch.

He... was so beautiful, and Namjoon wanted to cry.

But Yoongi was crying, he was crying first, cheeks wet, pulling back with wide eyes and a pink nose, everything pink, pink, pink.

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--"

"Yoongi--"

"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 want the stage," Yoongi was standing, looking sorrowful and fierce, stained with moonlight. "The fight, Namjoon, that's all we have. The stage, and the fucking fight, not this... this bullshit, fucking--"

I don't hate you.

The words were trapped inside his throat.

Namjoon couldn't move.

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--"

Yoongi left him alone there, in the water, cold, everything cold.

And Namjoon...

Namjoon couldn't blame him at all.

((and thats it for tonight ;-; remember, I promise, this will have a happy ending! eat the angst for dinner, and the happy ending for dessert! I love you guys, thanks for being here with me ;-; yell here if you want!))

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