Archive of Our Own

‘Hey, Joon-ah.’

‘Mm?’

‘What’s the difference between a Ferrari and an erection?’

Frowning as he jabs the call button for the elevator, Namjoon glances over. ‘I dunno,’ he says.

Hoseok grins, crooked and filthy. ‘I don’t have a Ferrari.’

Namjoon’s face immediately crumples as he cringes hard, but Hoseok can tell he’s biting back a laugh. ‘Get in the elevator,’ he sighs, shoving Hoseok in before him.

Hoseok isn’t the steadiest at this present moment, stumbles a little on his way over the threshold, but it’s mostly a mix of exhaustion and that bubbly champagne tipsiness – nothing some decent making out couldn’t fix. He leans against the mirrored wall of the elevator cart as Namjoon steps in behind him, eyes raking up and down, because even after a whole day of ordeals, he still looks better than any of those five-star meals they had this evening.

His bowtie disappeared some time ago, sleeves rolled up, top shirt buttons undone, his hair dark and dishevelled from the dancing (if you can call it that with Namjoon). He looks tired and not much like the polished creature in the tux from earlier that afternoon, but he still glows in the bright white light of the elevator and his legs stretch from here to forever in those slacks – it honestly stresses Hoseok out a bit.

‘C’mere,’ he says, catching at Namjoon’s belt and tugging him close as soon as he’s inside the elevator.

Smiling softly, Namjoon lets himself be reeled, his hands settling on Hoseok’s waist, warm through the thin fabric of his shirt. Hoseok shuts his eyes and sighs contentedly when he feels Namjoon lean down to press their foreheads together.

‘D’you live on a chicken farm?’ Hoseok asks him, winding his arms loosely round behind Namjoon’s head, voice low and breathy, like he’s gearing up to some epic profession of love. ‘’Cause you sure do know how to raise a cock, Joon-ah.’

‘Oh my god,’ Namjoon groans, dropping his head down onto Hoseok’s shoulder, as if the cheesy filth is enough to leave him physically weakened.

Hoseok cackles, scratching his fingers through the hair at Namjoon’s nape, pressing a light kiss to the tip of his ear. ‘Hey, Joon-ah,’ he murmurs, while Namjoon’s face is still buried in the crook of his neck. He grunts in response, but it’s a trepidatious sort of sound. ‘Joon-ah, don’t ever change.’

‘Okay…’ Namjoon says slowly, lifting his head, eyes narrowed.

‘Just get naked,’ Hoseok finishes, making Namjoon’s eyes fall shut again, a pained crease between his brows. He can’t help the snort of laughter this time, though, and Hoseok takes it as a grand victory, leaning back to better grin up at him.

‘How many of these you got?’ Namjoon asks.

Hoseok shakes his head. ‘So many,’ he assures him.

‘Great,’ Namjoon grumbles, turning away to hit the button for their floor, as if he isn’t loving every second of this.

The doors slide shut and Hoseok takes the opportunity to brush a few soft kisses up the side of Namjoon’s neck, smiling at the way his head lolls almost immediately, a sigh flowing past his lips. Hoseok waits till he’s kissed right up to graze his teeth over the piercings in Namjoon’s earlobe before he speaks again, a low, sultry whisper.

‘I wanna floss my teeth with your pubic hair.’

Namjoon makes some strangled sound in his throat, practically leaping to the other side of the elevator cart. ‘You’re fucking disgusting!’ he bursts out, while Hoseok all but falls to his knees with the force of his own laughter, the look on Namjoon’s face and that noise he made just too much to bear while standing upright. Tears blur his vision and he hears Namjoon groan, loud and frustrated and very loving – Hoseok knows.

‘Get up,’ he sighs, catching Hoseok’s arms to haul him up from where he sank to sit giggling on his haunches. ‘You’re a disgrace.’

‘Your disgrace,’ Hoseok cackles, burying his face into the crook of Namjoon’s neck again and okay, maybe he’s drunker than he thought, but Namjoon seems to be enjoying it.

He scoffs quietly, his breath hot in Hoseok’s hair. ‘Yeah, I guess so,’ he concedes, but he’s smiling when Hoseok leans back again to look up at him.

‘Y’know, I may not go down in history,’ he says, a finger tracing down the side seam of Namjoon’s shirt, ‘but I will go down on you.’

‘I’m really questioning whether I want you down there ever again,’ Namjoon mutters, trying to look disgusted, but Hoseok knows better. Hoseok knows that colour in his cheeks, creeping up from his throat, and he knows that flustered way his lips start twitching when he’s turned on. This Kim Namjoon is very much turned on.

‘You love me,’ Hoseok coos, and Namjoon grins at him, catching his mouth to indulge him in a kiss.

It’s sweet, slow, not much of anything, but Hoseok’s skin still feels alight with the champagne buzz and the excitement of the day. Namjoon’s lips are soft and his grip around Hoseok is doing so much more for the situation in his fitted tux slacks than the simple pressure of arms probably should. But judging by the small sound Namjoon lets out when Hoseok pulls away for breath, he’s not the only one feeling it.

‘D’you work at Subway?’ Hoseok asks him in a low whisper, pressing his thumb into the devastating squishiness of Namjoon’s lower lip.  ‘’Cause you just gave me a footlong, baby.’

‘It is not a foot long,’ Namjoon scoffs, his thigh tucking up between Hoseok’s legs, as if to somehow back this claim up.

Hoseok grins, grinding down slightly. ‘It’s long enough for you.’

‘Just about,’ Namjoon concedes, with this coy little shrug that makes Hoseok want to kiss him again – so he does, because he has that power and, as whatever wise man once said, with great power comes great responsibility. It’s Hoseok’s primary duty in life now to make sure these glorious lips are well-kissed every damn day and he takes this role very seriously.

‘You got any good ones?’ Hoseok asks him, still teasing Namjoon with quick, soft pecks just to watch him try to chase after Hoseok’s mouth when he pulls away again. It’s entertaining, but leaves his dick fairly frazzled. ‘Or are you gonna make me do all the work?’

‘That was my plan,’ Namjoon murmurs, dipping in for another kiss and Hoseok knows for a fact he’s not talking about pick-up lines. Namjoon still pulls back, though, just enough to say, ‘Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?’

Hoseok reckons the sound he makes is pretty similar to Namjoon’s squawk after the pubic hair line, though it has little to do with disgust and absolutely everything to do with how goddamned cute Kim Namjoon never fails to be.

‘You’re fucking precious, Jesus Christ,’ he groans, through teeth clenched against the overwhelming surge of affection. He pulls a chuckling Namjoon in by the front of his shirt again and steals every single breathless giggle right off his stupid, soft lips. The mirrored glass of the elevator wall is cool on his back, pressing hard against his shoulder blades, and Namjoon’s grip is firm on his hips. Hoseok doesn’t really understand why this guy doesn’t have him pantless and pinned up against said wall yet, but there are many great questions the universe is yet to answer for him.

‘Joon-ah,’ he breathes, breaking out of the kiss to let Namjoon mouth down his jaw, neither of them quite registering the jolt of the elevator coming to a halt. ‘When we get back to the room, let’s do some math: add a bed, divide our clothes, multiply your legs, and…’

He trails off, frowning, as the doors slide open. ‘I think I fucked that one up,’ Hoseok mumbles, working back through the line in his head as Namjoon tugs him out into the hallway by the hand. ‘Subtract legs? No, that’s not it, either…’

‘You’re so fucking drunk,’ Namjoon says, which is when Hoseok realises he’s been laughing at him for the past few moments, his eyes bright with amusement. ‘You only had, like, two glasses of champagne.’

‘I had three,’ Hoseok corrects, as if this somehow makes it better, but Namjoon shakes his head, smirking.

‘Your third glass was non-alcoholic, babe,’ he tells him, hooking an arm around his neck and pulling him in to press a kiss to his temple. ‘Yoongi told me.’

‘What a fuckin’ snake,’ Hoseok hisses, his own arm settling easily round Namjoon’s waist. ‘It was really strong champagne, okay—what? Don’t look at me like that!’

Namjoon dutifully faces front again, but he’s still laughing. ‘You’re such a lightweight.’

‘Hey, I can drink like a Viking, I just choose not to,’ Hoseok informs him, which is a lie and they both know it, but Namjoon murmurs a placating Okay before he plants another kiss on Hoseok’s cheek this time.

‘We’re still having sex, right?’ Hoseok confirms, side-eyeing him and praying his whole face expresses just how cranky he’ll be if they do not. ‘I’m not that drunk. You can’t deprive me tonight, Joon-ah, I’ll cry.’

Namjoon nods, pressing his lips against a grin in an attempt to look sincere, the shit. ‘I believe you.’

Another cheesy pick-up line swims into Hoseok’s mind and he smirks, tightening his grip on Namjoon’s waist to pull him in a little closer as they walk. ‘Y’know, I might be wasted, but the condom in my pocket doesn’t have to be.’

‘You don’t have a condom in your pocket,’ Namjoon reminds him, with a coy sort of sideways glance.

Hoseok had almost forgotten about how well they put that partition in their fancy rental car to good use earlier on. ‘Well, I still have the wrapper,’ he says, making a face. ‘Don’t kill my punchline. You got something better?’

‘No,’ Namjoon says flatly, but Hoseok leans in, batting his lashes like a goddamn Disney princess, all outta self-respect for today.

‘Joonie, please?’ he tries, nuzzling into Namjoon’s shoulder, which is a difficult thing to do while walking and also somewhere a couple miles north of tipsy, but Hoseok does his best. He gets results, too, with Namjoon heaving a long-suffering sort of sigh.

‘D’you smoke pot?’ he asks, Hoseok’s face already splitting into a grin at the soft colour in Namjoon’s cheeks and the quirk at the corner of his mouth. ‘Because weed be cute together.’

‘Oh my god,’ Hoseok groans, getting him up against a wall the moment they round a corner in the hotel hallway. Namjoon grunts out a winded laugh, but Hoseok’s kissing him again before he can get his breath back. ‘Why are you like this?’ he demands against his lips, Namjoon shaking with silenced laughter. ‘I can’t—’

Hoseok cuts off to focus on the kissing because words are not his friend tonight. Namjoon’s tongue is his friend, his trusty companion, always getting him through the darkest nights and longest days and most boring movies and the occasional long phone call with his insurance company. Hoseok can always count on Namjoon’s tongue – also his face, to be right there housing said tongue, and Hoseok’s kind of in love with how perfectly his thumbs sit over Namjoon’s cheekbones.

‘Your bone structure is giving my bone structure,’ he mumbles into the kiss, making Namjoon turn away to avoid snorting right into Hoseok’s mouth.

‘Stop,’ he groans, but he’s grinning too hard as he speaks for Hoseok to take him seriously.

Hoseok pinches at his cheek instead before dropping his hand to lace their fingers together. ‘You know, there’ll only be seven planets left once I destroy Uranus,’ he says, matter-of-factly, as they start ambling down the hallway again.

Namjoon glances over to quirk up an eyebrow at him. ‘That’s big talk for a guy who can barely stay upright.’

‘Oh, you wanted to do it upright?’ Hoseok asks him, smirking when Namjoon shoots him what’s meant to be a dark look, but is really only a sneaky glance at Hoseok’s mouth. ‘What about dragons?’ he asks, a moment later, making Namjoon frown. The poor guy’s still too tipsy to reel in that pathological curiosity of his, seems to expect Hoseok might actually come out with something profound tonight.

‘Dragons?’ he echoes.

Hoseok hitches up his eyebrows in question. ‘You like ’em?’

‘I guess?’ Namjoon murmurs, shrugging, and Hoseok grins, leaning in close.

‘Good, ’cause I’ll be dragon my balls all across your face tonight.’

Namjoon doesn’t even bother shoving him away this time, simply shuts his eyes, looking very, very tired. ‘Congratulations, you just ruined my chances of ever getting a boner ever again,’ he mutters.

‘Would you rather I flossed with your pubes?’ Hoseok asks him, laughing into his shoulder.

‘Y’know what—go sleep in Jimin’s room!’ Namjoon says, gesturing back down the hall with his free hand, though his other hand doesn’t let go of Hoseok’s. ‘I can’t take this for the rest of the night!’

Somehow Hoseok’s laughing at Namjoon’s outburst has him tripping over his own feet, almost dragging them both to the ground when he stumbles, vision blurred from the giggling. Namjoon’s still quick enough to steady them both with the help of a doorframe, while Hoseok wraps his arms around his waist and buries his face in Namjoon’s shirt to laugh there instead.

‘You’re gonna kill us both,’ Namjoon mumbles, but his smile is warm against Hoseok’s temple as he pulls him in close. ‘It’s nice to not be the walking health hazard for once.’

‘I’m doing this for you, baby,’ Hoseok mumbles into his shirt. ‘All for you.’

‘Uh huh,’ Namjoon hums, sounding unconvinced, while Hoseok hiccups on his own giggles.

The door they’re pressed up against isn’t their own (Hoseok is starting to suspect this isn’t their floor at all), but it’s late – the chances of anyone coming out here are slim and Hoseok really doesn’t see the sense in stopping his hands from wandering.

‘What happened to never getting a boner ever again?’ he asks, fingers tracing down Namjoon’s fly.

‘That’s not for you,’ Namjoon murmurs, ‘stop touching it.’

‘Oh, it’s for me,’ Hoseok assures him, lips finding Namjoon’s neck again, pressing softly just above the collar of his shirt.

‘How can you tell?’

‘Listen,’ Hoseok says, before drops his voice to a whisper, pitching it high. ‘Hoseokie~’ he sings, then pulls back suddenly to stare up at Namjoon with wide eyes. ‘Did you hear that?’ he asks, voice hushed with faux shock. Namjoon rolls his eyes, biting back a laugh, but Hoseok soldiers on, pouting as he pats sympathetically at Namjoon’s crotch. ‘Poor lil’ fella sounds desperate,’ he says. ‘He misses me.’

Namjoon quirks up an unholy eyebrow. ‘Little?’

‘Is it not?’ Hoseok asks, pressing Namjoon further up against the door, hand still between his legs, a teasing pressure. ‘Can’t remember, it’s been so long, Joon-ah.’ Namjoon tilts his head back as Hoseok’s lips leave a lingering kiss on his jaw. ‘Y’wanna refresh my memory? Prove me wrong before I go sleep in Jiminnie’s room?’

Namjoon reaches down to catch Hoseok’s wrist. He pulls his hand away from his crotch and slots their fingers together again. ‘Not here, c’mon,’ he says, tugging, and Hoseok feels his own cock twitchimpatiently at the sudden drop in Namjoon’s tone.

‘Your place or mine?’ he asks, having to jog a couple steps to catch up with Namjoon’s ridiculous strides. ‘Tell you what, we’ll flip a coin; head at my place, tail at yours.’

‘We only have one place,’ Namjoon reminds him with a sigh.

Hoseok shrugs, grinning over at him. ‘I guess that makes it easier.’

They are on the wrong floor, but it takes coming full-circle to the elevators again to convince Namjoon of this fact. Hoseok is smug the entire elevator ride up another couple levels, leaning back against Namjoon’s chest and smirking at him in the mirrored walls. Namjoon pretends to ignore him, eyes fixed on the number panel, but his arms stay curled around Hoseok’s waist from behind, fingers sneaking into the gaps between his shirt buttons.

On the right floor at last, they find their room where it’s meant to be, but keycards are more difficult than they look when fine motor skills have been compromised, so entry is something of a struggle.

‘I’m peanut butter, you’re jelly, let’s fuck,’ Hoseok murmurs into Namjoon’s ear, while he fumbles with the card.

‘You’re really running out now, aren’t you?’ he asks, finally sliding it in the right way round, shoving the door open with a hoot of triumph and a little more force than necessary (which might be down to Hoseok’s weight at his back tipping him inside, but whatever).

‘Have I wooed you yet?’ Hoseok asks, waddling in behind him, his arms still locked around Namjoon’s waist, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades. He smells expensive and sweaty and a little like the creamy butter icing from the cake. His soft snort of laughter hums against Hoseok’s cheek and he shuts his eyes, smiling.

‘Yeah, you’ve stolen my heart.’

‘Baby, I’m not looking for your heart,’ Hoseok says, releasing Namjoon so he can shut the door behind them again, get the lights. Hoseok wanders alone into the depths of the dark suite, searching for the couch – it was here somewhere. ‘I’m just looking for a good time,’ he goes on, calling over his shoulder. ‘I’m not ready for anything serious.’

‘Bit late for that,’ Namjoon shoots back, just as Hoseok finds the couch at last and flops backwards onto it, a grin stretching wide across his face.

‘Bit late,’ he agrees softly.

Namjoon takes his time (or maybe Hoseok’s just impatient) pottering around the room to turn on lamps and drape their jackets over a chair and almost topple over said chair before kicking off his shoes, then almost tripping over the damn shoes, hitting his shin on the coffee table. Hoseok lies sprawled on the couch and watches the show, cackling, still giddy from the champagne, from all of it. He sits himself up and tries to look sultry as he beckons Namjoon closer with a crooked finger, dramatic enough that even Namjoon sends him a judging look, but that doesn’t stop him limping over.

He tries to be smooth as he straddles Hoseok’s lap, all parted lips and narrow eyes, and only almost gives him a knee to the groin once, which is pretty fucking graceful by Namjoon’s standards. It’s hot, made even hotter by the golden shine of his skin in the lamplight and the hair now falling free from all its careful spraying to flop over his forehead. Tipping his head against the back of the couch to better admire him, Hoseok’s hands run appreciatively up his thighs, a slow smirk spreading across his face.

‘Look at that,’ he murmurs, as Namjoon settles, pushing dark hair out of his eyes. He’s all flushed, from the champagne and the hallway antics and maybe Hoseok’s squeezing hands. ‘I made you come with one finger,’ Hoseok goes on in a lewd whisper. ‘Think about what I could do with my whole hand.’

Namjoon groans again, rolling his eyes, but when he laughs, it’s a breathy sort of sound and Hoseok thinks that maybe – just maybe – that one kinda worked.

‘Shut up,’ Namjoon says, but the words are sighed into Hoseok’s mouth as he ducks his head in for a kiss.

It’s different in the privacy of their suite. Namjoon’s lips are still soft, his fingers still gentle slipping through Hoseok’s hair, but he presses in hungrily when Hoseok starts tugging his shirt out from where it’s tucked into his trousers. He’s quick to find skin, hot and smooth under his palms, fabric bunching around his wrists as he pushes up, fingers following the path marked out by Namjoon’s spine.

‘That fucking tickles,’ Namjoon grumbles into his mouth, and Hoseok grins against his lips because he fucking knows. He digs his fingers in harder to make Namjoon breathe out a strangled curse, teeth sinking into Hoseok’s lip in retaliation.

‘Ouch,’ Hoseok murmurs, without much conviction, letting his head flop easily against the back of the couch as Namjoon’s lips latch onto his neck. He smiles dumbly at the ceiling, eyes shut, hands wandering a little more seriously over the smooth planes of Namjoon’s back as he sucks a mark onto Hoseok’s neck, hot and tingling.

He’s a perfectionist, Namjoon, likes to get his hickies to just the right shade of “I won’t disappear till your mom asks about me” before he’s satisfied. Hoseok would complain if Namjoon’s lips sucking hard at his skin didn’t feel like a religious experience every damn time, especially with those kitten fucking licks he laves over the blooming mark every time Hoseok whines. When he’s done there, he continues lower, sucking softer kisses down Hoseok’s throat, his collarbone, going as far he can before the shirt gets in his way.

‘C’mere,’ Hoseok sighs, fingers slipping into Namjoon’s hair, tugging him gently up again to find his mouth. He feels Namjoon immediately start to fumble with his shirt buttons, clumsy while moving blind, but desperate enough to be effective.

Hoseok feels the cooler air of the hotel room washing over his chest in no time, his stomach, but Namjoon’s hands are warm when they slide, palms flat, from Hoseok’s waistband right up to brush thumbs over his nipples. That sends a shiver through him that has nothing to do with the temperature, fingers curling into Namjoon’s shirt, gasping softly against his lips.

Namjoon doesn’t tease, though, too focused on stripping Hoseok down, his hands moving up further to push his shirt off his shoulders. Hoseok lets his own hands drop as Namjoon sucks on the tip of his tongue, squeezing Namjoon’s ass through his slacks, enjoying the way his hips jerk a little. It makes Hoseok kind of curious as to just how hard Namjoon’s gotten, a stray hand moving round to slip between Namjoon’s legs again, cupping the fairly urgent bulge in his slacks.

‘Fuck,’ Namjoon whispers the word right into Hoseok’s mouth as Hoseok licks playfully at his upper lip, unable to help his grin when he slits his eyes open to see.

Namjoon looks undone already, hair a bird’s nest thanks to Hoseok’s handiwork, his lips swollen – swollen, Hoseok thinks in awe, how is that even possible? – and dark in the dim light of the hotel room. The arch of his neck as he tips his head back wipes the smile right off Hoseok’s face, has him gulping down his own soul as it attempts to promptly exit his earthly form, transcend this world to some higher plane of existence.

‘You’re so hard, baby,’ he whispers, his hand still stroking Namjoon through his slacks – enough to tease, enough to have Namjoon moaning, his fingers dropping to curl around Hoseok’s wrist, but nowhere near enough.

‘Shit, let’s go,’ Namjoon says suddenly, stealing another quick, hard kiss and clambering off Hoseok’s lap. He keeps a hold of his wrist, though, tugging while he stands there all ruffled and breathing heavy, eyes shining. ‘Bedroom.’

Hoseok has half a mind to do exactly as he’s told, right now, immediately, but he’d really committed to getting off on this couch and turning to drunk jelly and never moving again.

He makes a face. ‘Do we have to?’ he whines, and Namjoon rolls his eyes.

‘We have this whole suite, Hoseok, we’re not fucking on the couch,’ he says, that sultry murmur gone for the time being, tugging some more on Hoseok’s wrist. ‘C’mon.’

Hoseok groans loudly as he allows himself to be hauled to his feet once more, but he doesn’t mean it, not even a little. He leaves his shirt behind him on the couch and follows, slipping his fingers through Namjoon’s again, trotting so close behind him Namjoon keeps stepping on his toes. Luckily, he’s still wearing shoes, so it’s just plain annoying for Namjoon as opposed to painful for Hoseok, has him smiling his sweetest smile into Namjoon’s shoulder.

The suite is that fancy kind with the little miniature living room, and these snazzy double doors that lead into the bedroom. Namjoon tries to pry his hand from Hoseok’s, so he can open both doors at the same time in that dramatic Hollywood reveal, but Hoseok won’t let him. He settles for pushing one open, the other sort of swinging sadly behind it, but dramatic reveal or not, the room is still quite a sight.

Hoseok saw it that afternoon; it was a fancy bedroom, but it didn’t look much like a set from an epic romance film or a really soft porno. Now, however, it looks exactly like both of those things. The hotel elves must’ve been in earlier in the night, working some transformational magic. There are candles on every surface (the convincing fake kind because health and safety regulations don’t care for art, but still), white rose petals sprinkled on the bed and the floor around it, and the air smells faintly of lavender.

‘Holy shit,’ Hoseok says, wandering in to pick up the little package on the bed, shaking it slightly to hear that tell-tale rattle. ‘They even left us a whole box of chocolates, how neat is that?’

‘Well, it is the honeymoon suite,’ Namjoon reminds him, dropping to sit on the edge of the bed as he takes the box and peeks briefly at the gift card. ‘I guess you can expect certain perks.’

He doesn’t really seem interested in the chocolates or any of the props, really, and neither is Hoseok, if he’s honest, but…

Honeymoon suite.

‘You okay?’ Namjoon asks, looking up at him as he tosses the box to some far corner of the king size bed. He reaches for Hoseok's hand again, but goes one further and curls fingers around his hip instead, thumb stroking at the bare skin above his waistband. A small line appears between his eyebrows when Hoseok doesn’t do much more than lift Namjoon’s left hand off his hip, poking at the silver band around his finger. ‘Hoseok?’

‘Fuck,’ Hoseok whispers, finally meeting his eye again. ‘Fuck, Joon-ah, we got married.’

Namjoon snorts softly, but he smiles, too. ‘We did,’ he confirms.

‘We’re married,’ Hoseok says, reaching out to tug on Namjoon’s ear, leaning in close, as if to better convey the gravity of this statement.

‘I know, I was there,’ Namjoon reminds him, making a face as his head is tugged sideways, but he does some tugging of his own, too, pulling Hoseok down onto his lap.

Hoseok’s hands fall to cup Namjoon’s jaw instead, staring at him with wide eyes as he gives his head a gentle shake. ‘You’re, like… my husband now,’ he says, almost choking on the word, but it doesn’t feel as alien in his mouth as he thought it might.

‘I think that’s how it works, yeah,’ Namjoon murmurs, leaning in to press his lips to Hoseok’s bare chest, hands stroking up his sides.

‘What the fuck?’ Hoseok whispers, his own hands slipping round the back of Namjoon’s neck, dipping underneath the collar of his shirt. ‘What the fuck, Joon-ah?’

‘I can’t tell if this is a good what the fuck or an I’ve-made-the-biggest-mistake-of-my-life what the fuck,’ Namjoon mumbles, though he doesn’t look too worried when he tips his head back to look at Hoseok again. He knows. Of course he knows. He’s Namjoon. ‘Is that why you cried after the kiss? Am I that bad?’

‘Shut the fuck up,’ Hoseok mutters, face falling into a scowl. ‘We said we were never gonna mention that again.’

Namjoon grins one of his dumb, wide, dimply, close-lipped grins, the kind he pulls when he’s struggling not to laugh. ‘No, you yelled it to the whole room, but no one agreed with you.’

Hoseok groans, loud and pained, dropping his head down into the crook of Namjoon’s neck as Namjoon laughs, big, stupid hands rubbing up and down his back.

‘It was cute, everyone thought it was cute,’ he soothes through his laughter, stealing a quick kiss from the corner of Hoseok’s mouth as he emerges once more, red-faced, shamed. He’s never gonna live that one down. ‘You’re cute.’

‘You’re cute.’ He grumbles it like a moody curse, but he can’t keep the grin off his face when Namjoon’s smile turns soft at the words.

‘No, you’re cute,’ he argues gently, tipping his chin up for another kiss, but Hoseok won’t indulge him in this debate.

‘Suck my dick,’ he says instead, and Namjoon smirks.

‘If you’re good.’

Hoseok sighs heavily. ‘I love you,’ he murmurs, as if it is a great burden to do so.

Namjoon makes a face at him. ‘You’re okay, I guess.’

Hoseok wastes no time at all bringing a hand round between them to pinch at Namjoon’s left nipple – the sensitive one – hard. Hard enough to make him yelp out a curse of pain, though there’s no shock. None at all. He knew what he was getting into.

‘Don’t you dare start—’ Hoseok begins, gearing up to an impassioned rant, but Namjoon cuts him off quick by falling backwards onto the mattress in a flurry of petals, dragging Hoseok with him.

Hoseok shrieks – of course he fucking shrieks, he sees his whole life flash before his eyes – but Namjoon nips that in the bud, too, lips finding Hoseok’s with practiced ease, hands dropping to Hoseok’s ass and squeezing and. Wow. Like a switch being flicked, Hoseok’s mind fades to placid white, filled with nothing but the bliss of Namjoon’s mouth moving against his and the heat coiling far down below his stomach as he grinds his hips down.

Namjoon moans at that, muffled by the kiss, which is a crying shame that Hoseok will be no party to. He moves to mouth down Namjoon’s jaw instead, sucks nippy kisses down the front of his throat, pausing before the dip between his collarbones only to watch Namjoon’s neck arch. Hoseok swears it shimmers gold in the flickering fake candlelight.

‘Baby, you’re beautiful,’ he breathes, hips rocking down again at the sweet sound of another moan from Namjoon. This one is louder, the way it should be, rings around the room and shivers down Hoseok’s spine, his fingers unsteady as they start working at the buttons of Namjoon’s shirt. ‘Perfect,’ Hoseok whispers, dipping again to kiss a trail down Namjoon’s chest, chasing the progress of his own hands as they pop each button open.

When he finds Namjoon’s left nipple, he stays awhile to apologise for earlier, tongue laving in soft circles, teeth only teasing, no pressure at all. Namjoon’s panting again by the time Hoseok’s finished with his shirt, his fingers tangled up in Hoseok’s hair, glorious throat working hard to swallow down moans. He likes to pretend he doesn’t fall apart just from Hoseok’s mouth on his chest, but Hoseok’s got a knowing smirk tugging at his lips as he finds Namjoon’s again, open and wanting.

Hoseok teases because he can’t enough of Namjoon’s throaty little grunts of frustration, those dead-ass whines as Hoseok’s tongue flicks against his, sweet and fleeting, Namjoon’s fingers tugging on his hair until he’s had enough. Hoseok isn’t sure how he does it without breaking anything, but next thing he knows, Namjoon’s managed to roll them over, turning the tables entirely, and he’s a man on a goddamn mission. His mouth is hard on Hoseok’s, hungry, tongue sliding into his mouth, hot and wet and fuck, Hoseok’s arms lock around his neck, dragging him in deeper, moan humming against his lips. He gets one of Hoseok’s thighs, too, fingers digging in as he pulls his leg up to hook it around his own waist, only making it easier for Hoseok to roll his hips as Namjoon grinds down, a maddening friction of whatever the fuck these overpriced slacks are made of. Hoseok remembers caring about that shit three months ago in the tailor's shop, but now he really couldn’t give a fuck, more concerned with getting the damn things off.

‘Shit,’ he breathes out between kisses, the raw heat of Namjoon’s bare chest against his making his head spin, crotch throbbing with an ache not entirely sweet anymore. ‘Shit, Joon-ah, you gotta touch me.’

‘No, I don’t,’ Namjoon murmurs, as if he’s somehow in control of his situation, as if he’s not trembling under Hoseok’s very hands, whining into his mouth with every slow grind of their hips.

Hoseok tries to say all that, but all he manages is a thin and vaguely petulant moan of, ‘Joon-ah, I want you.’

‘You’ve got me,’ Namjoon reminds him, ducking down, no doubt to hide his smart-assed grin in the crook of Hoseok’s neck. ‘Till death do us part, remember?’

Hoseok can’t help the stupid grin that spreads across his face, the swelling feeling he gets in his chest – a whole boner of the heart – every time someone brings up that stupid ceremony, Namjoon’s stupid speechful of vows and that stupid way he squeezed Hoseok’s hands when he saw him tearing up. ‘You smooth fucker,’ he grits out, turning his head to nip at Namjoon’s ear with his teeth. ‘Stop being sappy and touch my dick.’

Namjoon laughs, breath fogging hot against Hoseok’s skin, making his eyes slip shut again, his hands slackening in Namjoon’s hair to comb gently instead. Namjoon is smiling when he reappears, propping himself up on his arms, the heat of his chest against Hoseok’s an instant and devastating loss. Namjoon doesn’t waste any time in scooting off the bed again, though, dipping down to press kisses to Hoseok’s stomach as he fumbles with his button and fly. Hoseok lets his hands wander back into Namjoon’s hair, soft breaths of laugher puffing his nose when Namjoon nips instead of kissing, a ticklish pinch that makes him tense up.

He isn’t laughing so much when Namjoon starts to kiss his thighs as he pushes the slacks down to catch around his ankles. Hoseok’s cock is straining pathetically against the tight fabric of his boxers, wet stain invisible on the black, but he can feel it, chaffing in the worst way. Namjoon’s lips sucking another mark right at the top of his thigh aren’t helping much at all, teeth pinching, making Hoseok’s fingers curl tight into the bedsheets.

‘Joon-ah,’ he groans, kicking off his trousers the rest of the way as Namjoon presses another soft kiss to the reddened skin.

He straightens up, looking very pleased with himself, starts shucking off his own trousers to join Hoseok’s on the floor.

‘Boxers, too,’ Hoseok demands, busy struggling out of his own as he scoots up the bed.

He fires them at Namjoon once he’s got them off, almost sends him toppling to the floor as he hops clumsily out of his own underwear. He rights himself with a dark look on his face, seems like he might retaliate, but Hoseok catches a fistful of his shirt before he can, starts to reel him in. Namjoon tosses the boxers over his shoulder instead and Hoseok basks in the heat that flushes through him watching Namjoon’s eyes rake down his body as he settles next to him.

‘Joon-ah,’ he says softly, reaching up to stroke at Namjoon’s jaw all tender, ‘you know I never make false promises, right?’

‘Well, I hope not,’ Namjoon murmurs, smirking as he leans into the touch. ‘Today would be a bad day to tell me you’re prone to that.’

Hoseok can tell by the softness in his eyes and the way he brings his hand to Hoseok’s hip, stroking gently, not even trying to grope somewhere more exciting, that Namjoon thinks he’s getting serious here. The poor guy has no idea.

‘As long as I have a face, you’ve got a place to sit,’ Hoseok says, in his very best solemn voice, so solemn in fact that tipsy Namjoon takes a whole three seconds of staring lovingly at him to process what he said. ‘Why wasn’t that in my vows?’ Hoseok asks vaguely, just as Namjoon groans, long and pained, like a wounded animal, his whole body flopping on top of Hoseok’s as he buries his face down in under Hoseok's chin.

‘Would you shut up?’ he mumbles against his skin, as Hoseok cackles up at the ceiling, jiggling them both.

‘That’s the plan,’ Hoseok assures him, still chuckling low in his throat as he coaxes Namjoon back up for another kiss and from the urgency in Namjoon’s lips sliding hot against his own, Hoseok’s fairly confident he can fix the mood.

He hooks a leg over Namjoon’s waist and okay, so maybe he narrowly avoids rolling them both off the bed as he moves to straddle him, but there’s no point dwelling on those might’ve-beens. Namjoon’s hands are quick to find his hips, his thighs, squeezing as Hoseok dips down to kiss wetly up his chest, his collarbones, pausing to suck at the sensitive skin in the crook of his neck. He can feel Namjoon’s fingernails digging in deep, legs shifting slightly against the sheets as he curls his toes, and Hoseok knows he’s got the right spot. He rolls his hips with Namjoon’s first breathless groan of his name, grinds down, hard cocks trapped between them, bodies providing only enough friction to make them both more desperate.

‘Hoseok, fuck,’ Namjoon hisses, as Hoseok sinks his teeth down gently into the tender mark on Namjoon’s neck, Namjoon’s hand sliding hot up his back to curl fingers into his hair. ‘Hoseok-ah,’ he says, and it’s more of a soft whine this time, vaguely pleading, fist tugging.

Hoseok decides to be a shit about it, though, kisses up Namjoon’s neck, but pulls away right before he reaches his mouth again, braces his hands on Namjoon’s chest, pushing the open shirt out of the way because he wants to feel skin. Namjoon looks a little frenzied, eyes glazed, mouth open and flushed and slick and Hoseok kind of wants to kiss it or put his dick in it, but watching how Namjoon’s teeth sink into that plush lower lip as Hoseok grinds his hips down again, watching how his eyes squeeze shut – that’s just as good right now. It’s perfect. It’s maddening. It sends a hot shudder up Hoseok’s spine and he drops a hand between them as Namjoon grips at his thighs again.

‘Shit,’ he hisses, at the dry slide of his own hand on their cocks, almost painful by now. It's been a day of soft foreplay. ‘Lube. Joon-ah, where’s the lube?’

Namjoon looks dazed, well past the point where he should be answering any question other than Does this feel good, baby? His face crumples with the effort of thinking. ‘Shit, it’s—it’s still in the suitcase,’ he says, struggling up onto his elbows. ‘I’ve only got one of those stupid little travel packs in my pocket.’

‘S’fine,’ Hoseok mumbles, scrambling down off the bed in such a rush he almost trips when his own trousers get tangled round his feet. ‘It’ll be enough, right?’ he asks, glancing up at Namjoon as he crouches to fumble with pockets on the floor and fuck, he’s a sight. Propped on his elbows, head lolling lazily to the side as he watches Hoseok, his shirt open to reveal a chest littered with small marks from earlier in the car, that big beauty blooming fresh at the base of his neck. Hoseok feels his cock twitch just at the thought of getting his mouth back on that.

‘You’re the sensitive one here,’ Namjoon points out. ‘You tell me.’

Hoseok makes an impatient noise, tossing the trousers away as he straightens up again, lube packet in hand. ‘It’ll be enough, hurry.’

‘Why’re you telling me to hurry?’ Namjoon asks, laughing, sitting up against the pillows as Hoseok clambers back onto the bed, teeth ripping at the packet. ‘You’re the one with—‘

‘Shut up,’ Hoseok mumbles, spitting torn plastic out of his mouth as he settles into Namjoon’s lap, head tipping back when Namjoon leans in to kiss his throat, huffing another soft laugh through his nose.

His hands skim so lightly up Hoseok’s back that he shivers before Namjoon drops his grip to his ass and sinks his fingers in, teeth grazing Hoseok’s earlobe, sucking it into his mouth. Hoseok curls his arms around Namjoon’s neck, trying his best not to spill the lube everywhere, unable to hold back the moan at Namjoon’s squeezing hands.

‘You sound so good,’ Namjoon mumbles into the soft skin below Hoseok’s ear, nuzzling gently, breath hot. ‘You feel so good. Fuck, can you believe all this is mine, now?’ he asks, hands running slowly up and down the length of Hoseok’s back again, stroking lower over his thighs, back up to his ass.

Hoseok quirks up an eyebrow as he empties the lube packet into his palm. ‘Is that right?’ he murmurs. ‘Yours?’

Namjoon hums, leaning in to brush his lips over the bony part of Hoseok’s shoulder. ‘Mine,’ he confirms, as Hoseok’s slick hand drops between them, finally getting to their cocks.

It’s cold after the heat of their bodies and this stifling room, makes Hoseok jump, makes Namjoon’s grip on his ass tighten even more, hissing through his teeth.

‘Sh-shit,’ Hoseok breathes, squeezing his fingers around both their lengths, already so fucking sensitive that he can feel his pulse thudding hard throughout his whole body. ‘Joon-ah.’

‘It’s good,’ Namjoon mumbles, almost soothingly, hips bucking slightly into Hoseok’s hand as he starts kissing his neck again. ‘Feels good, y-you’re so good, Seok-ah.’

Hoseok groans, bringing his free hand round to catch Namjoon’s chin, tipping his head up so he can kiss him again as he starts stroking. Namjoon’s tongue steals his noises, his grip on Hoseok’s hips steadying him as he jerks at the first touch of slick fingers to the weeping head of his cock. Even then, a muffled oh fuck Joon-ah can be heard, making Namjoon break away from the kiss to mouth down his jaw instead. He slides a hand from Hoseok’s hip to their cocks, more of a replacement than help because Hoseok is shaking already, breath coming quick.

‘Y’okay there?’ Namjoon asks him, sounding almost amused, and Hoseok might want to hurt him if he wasn’t burning up from the inside out, beads of sweat rolling down his back, his dick almost certainly on fire.

‘I’m really not gonna last,’ he breathes, curling his arms around Namjoon’s neck again, smelling hairspray and sweat as he gasps for breath, Namjoon’s hand too tight, too much, just perfect.

‘You’re so sensitive tonight,’ Namjoon murmurs, sounding more in awe than anything as he tips his head back to look up at Hoseok. ‘Is this what champagne does to you?’

‘I-I think it’s just—oh, god, Joon-ah,’ he moans, as Namjoon picks up the pace, stroking with these gross, lubey sounds that lick heat up Hoseok’s spine. ‘S’just you.’

‘Me?’ Namjoon says, and Hoseok manages a small smirk at how his voice cracks, all broken, his breathing heavy, too, as if he isn’t far behind Hoseok. Hoseok feels him nuzzle up into his chin, mouthing at his jaw. ‘That’s the sweetest thing you’ve said all day.’

‘Fuck off,’ he groans, hips jerking again at the feeling of Namjoon’s hand, Namjoon’s cock rubbing up against his own.

‘Why don’t I suck you off instead?’ Namjoon breathes against his neck, and Hoseok swears the last of the blood in his body drains south so fast he blacks out for a second.

‘You better not be fucking around,’ he warns, voice weak but very serious. ‘Namjoon—‘

Hoseok’s cut off by Namjoon pushing him back to lie down across the ridiculously large bed, pristine sheets already rumpled underneath them. Before Hoseok’s back even hits the mattress properly, Namjoon is mouthing the length of his collarbone, kissing a path down his chest and stomach.

‘Shit,’ Hoseok whispers, head dropping back, eyes shutting as Namjoon slows, sucking a mark into the dip above his hipbone. Hoseok’s fingers slide into his hair, still sticky from the styling, though that just makes for easier gripping. ‘Shit, Joon-ah…’

‘You want my mouth?’ Namjoon asks him, breath hot against his skin, making his cock twitch from the terrible proximity of his lips, his tongue.

‘You make me beg and I will kick you in the dick,’ Hoseok mutters through his teeth, fingers tightening viciously in Namjoon’s hair, but Namjoon only huffs out a breathless laugh.

‘A simple please would be nice,’ he murmurs, sounding pouty as he presses his lips down again, kissing lower, stopping just when he knows it’ll make Hoseok squirm.

‘Baby, please,’ he gasps, voice cracking, even more out of that self-respect stuff than he was earlier, but Namjoon doesn’t seem to be in a mood to be smug.

He moans at Hoseok’s words – whether it’s the pet-name alone, how desperate his voice sounds or both – and the next thing Hoseok knows, his cock has died and gone to heaven and he’s cursing at the ceiling. Heaven, in this case, is hot and wet and soft, and Namjoon’s lips sliding down around Hoseok’s length are some luxury he knows he isn’t worthy of, but here he is, blessed.

‘Oh my god,’ he groans, though it peters off into something closer to a whine, hips squirming until Namjoon’s hands come up to pin them down. ‘Joon, baby, I—’

Namjoon doesn’t even have to take him in far to wreck him at this point. It’s his tongue working its own soft brand of evil around the head of his cock, those lips of ultimate squish sucking in the worst possible way. Hoseok’s head digs back into the mattress as his back arches up, toes curling.

‘Fuck,’ Namjoon hisses, pulling off for breath, kissing up the crease of Hoseok’s thigh. ‘Fuck, you’re beautiful.’

And I’m not the only one, Hoseok thinks, propping himself up to see Namjoon between his legs. He looks wrecked, perfectly destroyed, lips swollen and bright, spit on his chin, sweat shining on his forehead, beads slipping down the side of his face.

‘Joon-ah—’ Hoseok sighs, head lolling back again as Namjoon licks a fat stripe up the underside of his cock.

‘Is it okay?’ he asks, and even after all these years, he still asks like he’s uncertain as to what the answer might be. ‘Is it good?’

Hoseok manages a weak nod. ‘It’s good,’ he whispers, fingers finding their way into Namjoon’s hair again as he goes back down on him. ‘It’s so good, baby, fuck.’

And Namjoon isn’t fucking around this time. He sucks Hoseok in even further, brow furrowed with the kind of concentration he usually reserves for poetry and lyric-writing and other things of great artistry and importance. He takes him in as far as he can, plush lips stretched around his girth, and then a little more, till the head of Hoseok’s cock is caught in the tight, wet heat of his throat and he feels every goddamn nerve-ending in his crotch explode, a tiny series of dizzying fireworks.

‘I’m close,’ he chokes out, elbow giving out from underneath him to land him flat on his back again. ‘Shit, I’m close…’

He feels Namjoon’s hands slide down from his hips to his thighs, stroking, then gripping firm, a gentle encouragement as he swallows around Hoseok’s cock, tongue still working the shaft, soft and diligent and so fucking sloppy. The whole thing is gross, from the sounds to the sweat to the way Hoseok’s whining desperate curses as he tugs at Namjoon’s hair, hips bucking, but it’s perfect.

It’s perfect.

He spills into Namjoon’s mouth with a broken cry of his name and his fingers all tangled, thighs tightening either side Namjoon’s head as his hips jerk up, but Namjoon takes all of it like a champ, tongue still working, hands still stroking. He gentles Hoseok through it with only the head of his cock in his mouth, lapping softly at the tip until he’s finished, spent and jerking away from even those light touches, oversensitivity hitting hard.

‘Holy shit,’ he pants into the sheets, having rolled onto his side to recover. ‘Jesus Christ.’

‘Actually it’s Namjoon,’ Namjoon murmurs, hoarse and breathless, but still a smug fuck. ‘Kim Namjoon, your husband?’

‘Shut up,’ Hoseok says, unsticking his sweaty face from the sheet as Namjoon flops down next to him. Hoseok barely gives him a chance to breathe before he’s kissing him, deep and hard enough to make him moan, tasting shitty packet lube and his own cum.

Namjoon’s cock is still hard, dark and weeping heavily, poor thing, smearing precum against his stomach. It’s a travesty and Hoseok won’t stand for this. ‘Lemme take care of you,’ he murmurs, dipping to press a kiss just below his breastbone, about shimmy his way down south, but Namjoon shakes his head, grunting some protest against Hoseok’s mouth as he tugs him in again.

‘What?’ Hoseok murmurs, a smile spreading across his lips as he pulls back just enough to see that needy gleam in Namjoon’s eyes and the blush stained dark over his cheeks. ‘You want kisses?’ he asks, only kind of in a condescending drawl. He presses another few teasing pecks around Namjoon’s wanting mouth as Namjoon glowers up at him. ‘You’re really choosing kisses over a blowjob right now?’

Namjoon’s eyes flutter shut as Hoseok nips at his lower lip, but that frustrated crease doesn’t ease from between his brows. ‘Hoseok,’ he groans, low and rough and far beyond the point where anymore teasing is welcome. ‘I just—I’m close, I-I want you, c’mon—’

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok breathes, dropping the voice, sliding a hand down Namjoon’s stomach to grip his cock. The lube from earlier is mostly dried in and gross, but Hoseok spits quickly into his hand, ducking in to catch Namjoon’s mouth again. ‘Yeah, okay, baby, I got you,’ he mumbles against his lips, swallowing Namjoon’s thin curses as he starts stroking, fast and filthy.

Namjoon kisses like they’ve got all the time in the world, slow and wet and filled with moans growing more and more staccato the more undone he gets. He pulls Hoseok in so close it’s almost hard to jerk him off, but Hoseok’s too selfish to tell him this, kind of weak to the strong arms curled tight around him and Namjoon’s chest pressed too hot up against his own.

‘Come on, baby,’ Hoseok murmurs, pulling away to kiss his jaw, his cheek, the corner of his mouth as Namjoon loses the coordination to really partake in the kissing. ‘C’mon, lemme see you come.’

‘Shit, Hoseok,’ Namjoon hisses, hips jerking, cock pulsing in Hoseok’s hand and despite the cramp starting up in his elbow, he picks up the pace, ducking his head to suck a hickey below Namjoon’s ear.

Namjoon comes over his fist with the kind of choked cry that Hoseok will likely tease him about till death do them part, but in the moment, it’s kind of hot. It is not, however, as hot as the straining tendons in Namjoon’s neck that Hoseok traces with his lips as he strokes him through it, or the way Namjoon curls fingers into his hair to drag him up into another rough kiss, hard lips and biting teeth and all of it most probably payback for Hoseok snickering at his orgasm noise.

‘I hate you,’ Namjoon growls against his mouth, as Hoseok starts laughing again. He turns away just enough to mimic the noise, though his version rings around the room like some pterodactyl squawk and Namjoon bites his earlobe.

‘That hurt!’ Hoseok snaps, trying to shove Namjoon’s face away from him as he rolls on top of him properly, but he doesn’t make a very good case while he’s speaking through giggles, shaking under Namjoon.

‘You deserved it,’ Namjoon mumbles moodily, but his lips are soft now when they press down against Hoseok’s throat.

‘Maybe,’ Hoseok agrees, eyes shut and very much enjoying those soft kisses until they come to an abrupt halt as Namjoon rolls off him to flop, lifeless, onto his back. ‘Y’okay there, soldier?’ Hoseok asks, struggling up onto an elbow to smirk at him.

Namjoon looks utterly spent, cum smeared on his stomach (and his back, where Hoseok wiped off his hand, but he doesn’t know that) and sweat dripping off the rest of him. It’d be gross if he wasn’t unbearably attractive, long legs hanging off the bed, toned chest heaving. Hoseok can’t stop himself from leaning down to press a kiss to it before resting his chin there, pouting up at him.

‘Should I get a cloth?’ he asks – again, only a little condescending. ‘Give you a bed bath?’

Namjoon’s smile is lazy, but even still it works that Kim Namjoon magic, leaves Hoseok with an inexplicable urge to give him absolutely everything he wants and then some.

He presses another couple soft kisses to Namjoon’s chest before he hauls himself up and into the en suite, snorting a soft laugh at Namjoon’s weak call of, “Hurry.”

Hoseok admires the ridiculously large roman-style bathtub as he takes a piss, already making plans to spend the morning in there before they have to meet the others for lunch downstairs. By the time he’s back in the bedroom with the cool cloth, Namjoon has manoeuvred himself up into the soft mountain of pillows, looking like some kind of fallen angel, glowing golden against all that cream fabric, a stupid grin plastered across his face. He slits open weary eyes when he feels the mattress dip under Hoseok’s weight, an arm flopping out, palm up, like he wants Hoseok to hold it, but Hoseok does him one better and tucks himself in against his side instead.

Namjoon’s groan when Hoseok presses the cool cloth to his flushed neck is ten times more orgasmic than his pterodactyl squawk from earlier, but Hoseok decides to keep that quip to himself, pressing his smirk to Namjoon’s lips instead.

‘That’s nice,’ Namjoon slurs, as Hoseok pats the cloth over his sweat-damp hair and overheated cheeks. ‘That’s really nice, Hoseok-ah.’

Hoseok hums, dipping down to presses kisses to Namjoon’s closed eyelids. He mops the cloth over his forehead one more time before he drops it to deal with the cum and tosses it away onto the floor with their discarded clothes. Once that’s done, he flops down again tucking his head into the crook of Namjoon’s neck and huffing a soft laugh just as Namjoon curls a warm arm around him.

‘What?’ he asks, lips brushing Hoseok’s forehead.

Hoseok laughs again. ‘Our wedding night and we only got to third base,’ he murmurs, making Namjoon chuckle as well.

‘We drank too much,’ he sighs. ‘And hey, it was a pretty good third base.’

‘Yeah,’ Hoseok agrees, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. ‘Still,’ he adds, patting at Namjoon’s stomach, ‘you made me fuck you in that car. You owe me a dicking.’

‘We’ve got the rest of our lives for kinky butt stuff,’ Namjoon reminds him.

Hoseok tilts his head back to look up at him. ‘What about when we’re eighty and incontinent?’ he asks, unable to hold back his cackle as Namjoon’s face falls, eyes rolling behind shut lids.

‘Was that image necessary?’

‘I just want specifics, Joon-ah.’

Namjoon sighs heavily, rolling over so that Hoseok is half crushed beneath him. ‘Shut up,’ he mumbles into his shoulder, hooking a leg over Hoseok’s waist.

Hoseok’s quick to run a hand up his thigh, but he isn’t out of questions. ‘I can’t live a life of uncertain—’

‘Shut up.’

‘But—’

‘I want a divorce,’ Namjoon sighs, nuzzling further into Hoseok’s neck.

Hoseok hums low in his throat, a regretful sound. ‘I’m fresh outta those, sorry,’ he murmurs. ‘I have a couple kisses left, you want those?’

Namjoon is quiet and Hoseok almost wonders if he’s fallen asleep, but after a moment he shrugs. ‘I guess they’ll do,’ he mumbles, attempting to sound grumpy, but Hoseok can hear the smile.

‘Cool,’ he says, turning his head to press his lips to Namjoon’s forehead, though it isn’t long before Namjoon tilts his head up to get the kisses right where he actually wants them.

‘Hey,’ Namjoon murmurs, sometime later, giving Hoseok a soft shake, bringing him back from the very brink of sleep. ‘Hoseok-ah.’

‘Mm?’ Hoseok grumbles, reaching up to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth, hoping this isn’t something that will require him to open his eyes. This bed is the softest thing he’s ever lain on and the cool, clean sheets tangled round his very uncool, very unclean legs feel like heaven. Namjoon’s cheek on his chest is kind of sticky and hot, but the weight of his head with every breath was lulling Hoseok so gently to sleep. He really doesn’t understand what could be so important—

‘Are you yoghurt?’ Namjoon asks.

Hoseok frowns, beginning to wonder if he’s dreaming or so sleepy that Namjoon’s words aren't reaching his brain quite right. ‘What?’ he mumbles.

‘Because I wanna spoon you,’ Namjoon says, and doesn’t seem to be able to stop the goofy giggle that follows the punchline.

Hoseok finally slits his sticky eyes open to see Namjoon’s all scrunched as he laughs like this is the greatest fucking thing he’s ever said.

It kind of is.

Hoseok grins. ‘You’re incredible,’ he says, but he does roll onto his side to let Namjoon tuck himself in behind him, arm winding around him and sneaking up to brush fingers over Hoseok’s nipple, because he’s annoying like that. Hoseok catches his hand to stop it straying, laces their fingers together and heaves a heavy sigh as Namjoon settles down to sleep.

As his eyes are drifting shut again, Hoseok feels a soft kiss pressed behind his ear. ‘I love you,’ Namjoon whispers, and Hoseok kind of feels it again, if he’s honest, that lump in his throat that kind of makes him want to sob the words right back.

‘Yeah,’ he sighs, pulling their hands up to kiss one of Namjoon’s fingers – maybe the one he slid a ring onto earlier, who knows. ‘I love you, too, baby.’