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It's adorable how shy Yoongi can get. Looking at him no one would guess it. The fans either see the cold hard rapper persona or the soft kitty who likes wainscoting. Neither camp ever seems to think of him as truly shy. Coy maybe, but not this.
It's the way his cheeks flush so faintly. How his fingers twist and worry at a frayed thread on his jeans. How his breathing is ever so slightly faster than when he's calm. It's something Namjoon has only noticed because he spends so much time sitting so close to his hyung, not that he'd admit to having noticed how fast Yoongi normally breathes.
They've been talking for hours now, ensconced in Yoongi's studio. With the door locked, lights dim, a chill out playlist and the faint hum of the air conditioning in the background. They should have headed back to the dorm hours ago. Jimin will chew them out for not getting enough sleep when he sees them in the morning.
The conversation has meandered from topic to topic: music, politics, work, fans, love, lust. The last topic brings a shocking discovery for Namjoon.
It's the shyness which clues him in to the idea something is about to be shared that Yoongi has probably kept locked up for far too long. His foot is tapping on the floor, muffled by socks and a rug. He's picking at the skin around his nails—Namjoon wants to slap his hand away and kiss the raw skin better.
“That's the problem, really. It's getting more difficult for me to write about shit I've never experienced. Like all the sex shit. Hell, I've never even kissed anyone, let alone more,” Yoongi grumbles, eyes fixed somewhere to Namjoon's left. Namjoon must have a dumbstruck expression on his face because Yoongi gives him a wry smile as he says “Yeah, pitiful isn't it? Min Yoongi, 26, never fucked, sucked or even kissed anyone. I almost did once. Kiss someone. Back in high-school. He was being a total dick though and it didn't feel right, so I didn't. Then I was here, and any kind of experimentation hasn't felt worth the risk of being outed.”
“But your lyrics?”
“Total bullshit.” Yoongi huffs a dry laugh, looking down at his hands and frowning. “I just wrote about what I think I'd find hot. What I think I'd enjoy doing.”
He scrubs a hand over his face, as if trying to wipe away the pink flush dusting his cheeks. It's stupid, but Namjoon almost feels guilty that he'd had his own handful of experiences before he'd joined Big Hit. Yoongi deserves that, deserves to explore what he likes without fear of attack or risking everything he's worked so hard for. Namjoon hates that such a thing prevents so many from loving the way they should, from experiencing something as small as a kiss.
“I can get that. We’re in a way better position now though. So why not take advantage of it and experiment? If it came out, it’s not like the label could get rid of you. For one they’d lose too much money, and we’d never let them anyway. I know I'd rather leave than stay if the company thought dropping you for being openly gay was a good idea.” Namjoon says, shaking his head.
Yoongi gives him a wry smile, rubbing at his bottom lip with a chewed up finger.
“If only it was that simple. I couldn’t just try with some random person and not explain. Besides the embarrassment of being a complete blushing virgin—” Namjoon snorts a laugh, the concept of Yoongi being as delicate and demure as the phrase implies seems ludicrous “—I’d be absolute shit and they’d be disappointed, which is almost worse. I want them to have a good time. I don’t think I could give a guy that,” Yoongi sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. Namjoon frowns as he thinks for a moment, eyes straying to the almost empty glasses of whisky on the table.
“I could give you contact info for a guy or two? They'd be chill with being your first and never tell anyone shit.” Namjoon offers, looking back at Yoongi in time to see him grimace.
“Thanks but no thanks. I'm sure they're great if you've been with them but… it'd just feel wrong I think. Besides, I'm sure we've got very different types,” Yoongi chuckles, shaking his head. Then his expression drops, and Namjoon is alarmed to see his lower lip tremble and his eyes get a little too shiny. “I'm just gonna have to give it up and get used to the idea of being alone.”
Shit, this really bothers Yoongi. He's never one to cry unless he's genuinely distressed by something. A thought solidifies in Namjoon's brain, a little bud of an idea that's tumbling out of his mouth before its fully bloomed.
“Look, hyung, this is gonna sound weird and feel free to tell me to fuck off, but… what about me?”
“Huh? What do you mean, ‘what about you’?” Yoongi frowns, voice wet and nose starting to turn pink with repressed tears. He rests a hand over Yoongi's on his thigh, giving it a comforting squeeze.
“You can experiment with me. I mean, I'm into guys, you're into guys, you're hot, I'm passable—.”
“Shut the fuck up with that ‘passable’ bullshit,” Yoongi snaps, cutting him off and pulling his hand away with a sharp tug. “You're more than passable. Half the room wets itself in excitement when you walk in.”
“Charming imagery, hyung.” And Namjoon knows he says that shit about himself as a pre-emptive strike, so it won't hurt as much when someone else says it about him. Defence mechanism. Yoongi never stands for it. None of them do, but Yoongi is the quickest and most aggressive with snapping him out of that shit. It's one of the things Namjoon loves most about him, his fierce support. The back of Namjoon's neck prickles with bashful heat at the strange compliment.
“I don't want a pity kiss. Don't just offer ‘cause you feel bad for me.”
“Hyung… I've wanted to kiss you for years,” Namjoon says, grabbing Yoongi at the juncture of his neck and shoulder, grip firm enough to get his attention. He's always wanted Yoongi’s attention. Wanted to work his way under Yoongi’s skin and get a rise out of him. He wanted to break his stoic exterior with the only strong emotion Yoongi ever used to show, anger. It was toxic of him honestly, but he's grown up since then. They both have, and the more he got to know Yoongi, the more his interest grew like a vine around his heart, chipping away at his masonry and demanding attention.
“I've wanted to kiss you since the first time you told me to fuck off. Granted back then it was mostly to piss you off, get some kind of reaction out of you, but I've always wanted you. You're hot, and you've just gotten hotter the longer I've known you, the more into your head I got. It's not pity. It's actually pretty selfish of me really.”
“Selfish?” Is the only thing Yoongi can seem to say, brows furrowed, but he's making eye contact now, and that's a rare enough occurrence that Namjoon's gut twists in excitement.
“It'd be so fucking hot to be your first kiss.”
“Oh…”
There's that flush again, creeping up Yoongi's cheeks, eyes flitting away nervously, fingers worrying the frayed edges of the tear in his jeans again. Then comes a softly muttered “Pervert.”
“Can't deny that.” Namjoon shrugs. He can feel Yoongi melt into the gentle pressure as he massages his shoulder.
“You’re not fucking with me, right?”
“Not even a little.” Namjoon slides his hand up to cup Yoongi’s jaw, drawing them closer together. “You can tell me to stop any time.”
He can feel Yoongi practically vibrating under his touch, like he's consumed ten cups of coffee. But Yoongi drinks decaf now and Namjoon knows it’s nervous anticipation. He leans in slowly, giving Yoongi plenty of time to speak up or pull away, but Yoongi doesn’t move. His eyes are glued to Namjoon’s mouth, his own slightly parted, tongue slipping out to wet his lips.
When their lips meet it’s feather light and barely there. A soft press, then another, and another. Yoongi is tense at first, shoulders stiff, hands curled tight against his thighs when Namjoon looks down between kisses. He takes one hand in his own, coaxing it open and lacing their fingers together, brushing his thumb over Yoongi’s knuckles. He knows Yoongi finds comfort in holding hands, but rarely lets himself do it.
Namjoon presses another kiss to Yoongi’s lips, longer this time, and feels him relax slightly. Yoongi’s fingers twitch in his hold before curling around Namjoon’s hand, and he lets out a quiet breath.
“This ok?” Namjoon asks between kisses, throwing in the tiniest little nip at Yoongi’s lower lip. It has Yoongi's breath catching, and he nods, leaning into the next kiss. Namjoon can feel the hesitancy in the press of Yoongi’s lips, the second guessing, the eagerness to get it right. The obvious inexperience and trust in the face of it has a bolt of heat lancing through Namjoon’s core.
He really is such a pervert. Namjoon’s boxers are already starting to feel too tight.
Yoongi reaches out a hand to grab at Namjoon’s shirt and comes up a little short. Instead it drops into Namjoon’s lap and Namjoon lets out a soft huff at the contact before Yoongi’s hand jerks back in surprise.
“Sorry. Ignore it,” Namjoon murmurs against Yoongi’s lips, squeezing his other hand. Yoongi mostly does, for now. He focuses back on the kiss, free hand now resting against Namjoon's chest as he gains confidence. Though every now and then he pulls back enough to glance down, attempting to be sneaky about it but failing in the most endearing way.
“I can go sort myself out and come back or we can take a break. I don't want you to feel pressured by it,” Namjoon offers the third time Yoongi sneaks a peek. Yoongi pulls away again, running a hand through his hair with an awkward noise that's almost a laugh.
“No, I just—it's kinda… comforting to know you're actually into it,” He confesses. Fingers twitching over the fabric of Namjoons shirt in absent motions.
“Well, we don't have to do anything about it. Unless you want to.”
“It's embarrassing. That I keep wanting to look,” Yoongi mutters, glancing down again before looking off over Namjoon's shoulder, cheeks still blushed the sweetest pink that makes Namjoon want to bite him.
“It's normal.”
“You're not sneaking peeks at me.”
“Hyung, I'd stare at you for days if I could. I want to see every inch of you.”
“You're being very talkative tonight,” Yoongi grumbles, the flush on his cheeks darkening at the admission.
“Then shut me up.”
Yoongi does. He presses their lips together more firmly than before, lingering, and Namjoon takes the opportunity to flick his tongue out and lick at Yoongi’s lower lip. Yoongi's mouth opens in a gasp, and Namjoon takes the chance to push his tongue inside, showing Yoongi a deeper kiss. He melts into it, pressing forward against Namjoon, mouth open, welcoming, little huffs of breath fanning over Namjoon’s face. He tastes of whisky and the remnants of the Japchae he had for dinner. Namjoon is obsessed.
Namjoon releases Yoongi’s hand and rests both of his on Yoongi’s waist, pulling him closer. Their teeth knock together and Yoongi pulls back with a small hiss.
“That happens. Come back,” Namjoon chuckles, drawing Yoongi in again. He opens his mouth immediately this time, tongue tentatively lapping at the seam of Namjoon’s lips. ’Like a kitten’ Namjoon thinks, and his brain is flooded with the image of Yoongi with sweet little triangle ears and a sleek tail and that is not helping reduce the tightness of his boxers.
He parts his lips for Yoongi’s inquisitive tongue, pulling the smaller man into his lap more fully and wrapping his arms around his narrow waist. He’s so small, and if Namjoon didn’t know Yoongi so well he’d think he feels fragile, but Yoongi is tough. He’s been through so much without a word of complaint. It’s something Namjoon has always admired about him, though he does wish Yoongi would rely on them more. So much pain could have been avoided if he’d just leaned on the rest of them.
He’s pulled out of his thoughts by Yoongi letting out an honest to god whine into his mouth as their tongues meet, winding his arms around Namjoon’s neck and pressing closer. The movement tips Namjoon back to lay against the armrest, and pulls Yoongi fully into his lap. The motion has Namjoon’s cock pressing against the inside of Yoongi’s thigh, nestling between the crease of it and Yoongi’s own burgeoning erection.
Yoongi makes a startled noise, pushing himself back to straddle Namjoon’s thighs instead of sitting right in his lap. He braces himself with hands on Namjoon’s chest, sweet flush high on his soft cheeks. He’s breathing heavily, and Namjoon can see the faint tremble running down his arms.
Yoongi sits quietly for a moment, staring down at his hands on Namjoon’s chest, avoiding eye contact. Namjoon can see the gears turning in his head, the little crease between his eyebrows as he thinks. He wants to press a kiss to it, smooth it out and soothe whatever worries Yoongi is having. Before it’s even a conscious decision, Namjoon finds himself curling a hand around the back of Yoongi’s neck, leaning up and pressing his lips to the warm skin.
“What’s wrong hyung? We can stop if you want,” Namjoon assures him, rubbing Yoongi’s thigh comfortingly. “Don’t push it if you don’t want it.”
He watches Yoongi’s jaw clench, Namjoon toys with the soft hair at the nape of Yoongi’s neck, natural black in the lull between comebacks.
“I don’t want to stop, I just…” Yoongi bites his lip, shifting a little on Namjoon’s thighs. “I’m worried about… uh… being too into it, too fast. S’embarrassing.”
Namjoon glances down and lets out a soft little ’ah’ of understanding as he makes out the damp spot starting to form on the front of Yoongi’s jeans.
“It’s fine. Hot really, to have got you that worked up already. I like it,” Namjoon hums, a satisfied smirk twisting his lips. Yoongi rolls his eyes in response. Namjoon moves the hand not on the back of Yoongi’s neck to lightly run a finger over the bulge in Yoongi’s pants, circling it over the wet spot. Yoongi stiffens, then lets out a low, rough moan, hips twitching and hands squeezing Namjoon’s chest. “This ok?”
Yoongi nods jerkily, breathing heavily through his nose, eyes hazy and half closed as he tries to ground himself. It’s something Namjoon has seen him do countless times when he’s struggling to think through an intense feeling, and knowing it’s him doing this to his hyung sends heat rolling through his gut.
Then he realises Yoongi is kneading at his chest, like a cat, large hands splayed over the soft muscle of his pecs and squeezing rhythmically. A memory sparks of a younger, drunk Yoongi saying he’s into beefy men. Not obscenely ripped, but bigger than him, soft muscle, a little fat over it. And damn if Namjoon isn’t that right now. Smug pleasure curls in Namjoon’s chest at the realisation as Yoongi’s blunt nails dig into the flesh through his top.
He pulls Yoongi down into another kiss, reconnecting their lips and licking into his mouth hungrily. For all he keeps reminding Yoongi they can stop, that this was just meant to be a bit of kissing, Namjoon really wants to take it a bit further if Yoongi will let him. He wants to make Yoongi squirm, get off with his hyung in his lap, writhing against him.
Yoongi shifts forward, emboldened by the hunger in Namjoon’s hiss, forgetting his nerves enough in the face of it to let his hands start to wander. He gains confidence, knowing Namjoon won’t judge him negatively for how riled up he’s getting, and that he’s wanted in return. Their tongue’s tangle, Yoongi’s inexperience made up for with growing enthusiasm.
Namjoon isn’t sure how long they kiss heavily like that—heat rising around them like they’re under the burning summer sun, Yoongi mapping the shape of the inside of Namjoon’s tongue with kitten licks and throaty, rumbling noises—before Yoongi slides forward in his lap. He groans into Namjoon’s mouth as it presses Namjoon’s hand more firmly against his aching dick.
“Feel good, hyung?” Namjoon hums against his lips, and Yoongi’s answering noise rumbles low and rough in his throat. There’s a raw, almost whining quality to it that Namjoon needs to hear more of, so he breaks the liplock and instead presses wet, open mouthed kisses to the spot just below Yoongi’s ear. Yoongi moans and rolls his hips into Namjoon’s palm.
“Sound so good. Should record you sometime. Mix it into a song,” Namjoon murmurs against Yoongi's skin, prone to horny babble. All his guilty late night fantasies are bubbling up, breaking the thin film of propriety Namjoon keeps over them when faced with his littlest hyung. The difference in size between them drives him mad, and he longs to see Yoongi's cock pressed against his own. He knows it'll be smaller, a sweet pink like his lips, his knees, his cute nose. Namjoon bets his hole is cute and pink too.
“God, shut up Joon-ah,” Yoongi gasps, slapping Namjoons pec, face so, so flushed but cock twitching in interest under Namjoons hand. And oh… had he said all that out loud?
“Sorry hyung, I just… shit. Want you so bad.”
“Should have guessed you'd be a horny yapper,” Yoongi grunts against his temple, turning his head just enough to press a small kiss there. The simple warmth of it tugs at something in Namjoon's chest.
Namjoon’s next noise is a half moan, half laugh as Yoongi slowly rocks into his hand. He nips at Yoongi’s neck, enjoying the shuddering breath it tugs from his hyung. It seems Yoongi’s neck isn't as sensitive as Namjoon’s own, but there’s more of a reaction when Namjoon scrapes his teeth firmly over the soft skin, Yoongi’s breath hitching sharply.
“Don’t leave any marks,” Yoongi mutters. Namjoon hums against Yoongi’s neck, and tests a slightly harder bite. It gets him a low moan and jerking of hips, before Yoongi pinches Namjoon’s nipple in retaliation. Namjoon chokes on a whine. “That’s gonna leave a mark, you ass.”
Namjoon grins unapologetically up at Yoongi, all teeth and dimples. Yoongi sighs in exasperation and dips in for another kiss. Namjoon catches Yoongi’s lower lip between his, sucking lightly at it and moves his hands to Yoongi’s hips. Thumbs digging into the creases of Yoongi’s thighs, Namjoon pushes him back enough on his lap that their cocks press together.
“Hyung, you’re making me feel so good,” Namjoon tells him, guiding Yoongi’s hips against his, lips brushing, breath mingling. White-hot sparks burst up his spine as Namjoon rocks Yoongi against him, the friction heavenly. Yoongi pants into his mouth.
“S’so much,” Yoongi rasps. He sounds like a wreck, trembling in Namjoon’s grip, hands squeezing Namjoon’s shoulders.
“Too much?”
“No,” Yoongi breathes, hips moving independently of Namjoon’s guidance now. The way Yoongi starts to chase the pleasure, the hot drag of their confined cocks against each other, is enough to drive Namjoon crazy. A hand moves to Yoongi’s ass, squeezing, groping.
Namjoon can imagine holding Yoongi by the ass as he bounces his hyung on his cock, holding him up as he fucks up into Yoongi’s tight heat. God he wants it.
“You’re yapping again,” Yoongi chuckles, breathless, strained with need.
“Wanna fuck you so bad, hyung. Wanna fill you up, make you feel how good that is,” Namjoon growls, mouthing along Yoongi’s jaw. He nips at Yoongi’s earlobe, gasping as he rockets toward climax. “Sh-shit. Gonna make me cum, hyung. So close.”
“Shit, Joon,” Yoongi groans, and Namjoon wonders if it’s just as hot for Yoongi—knowing that, despite his experience, Namjoon will probably be the one to lose it first—as it is for him, knowing that he’s Yoongi’s first sexual experience.
Yoongi bucks against him particularly hard, presses an open mouthed kiss to Namjoon’s neck, and that’s it for him. Namjoon curses around Yoongi’s name, and spills between them, into his jeans. Before his brain goes static-blank and stars burst behind his eyes, he vaguely curses the fact he’d gone commando today, because getting home with cum stained jeans is going to be a nightmare.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Joon.” Yoongi hisses, hips rabbiting against Namjoon’s. He seals their mouths back together, tongue slick and hot and insistent, barely breathing until he stiffens in Namjoon’s lap with a long, low, breathless moan that spills between their lips as he climaxes.
Yoongi trembles for a moment, holding himself upright, before he melts bonelessly against Namjoon, face buried in the crook of his neck. Yoongi’s skin is slick with sweat, and something base and animalistic in Namjoon insists he lick and suck open-mouthed at the column of his neck as they come down.
“Fuck, stop. S’too much,” Yoongi whines, weakly pushing at Namjoon’s head to stop the assault of his mouth.
“Mm, you taste so good though.”
“Pervert.”
The room smells of sweat and cum, and Namjoon revels in it, in the scent of Yoongi clinging to every surface.
“Did you like it?” Namjoon asks, stroking a long line down Yoongi’s back and up again.
At first Yoongi gives a non-committal hum, then; "Yeah. You—uh, you made me feel safe. Thanks."
“Good. Any time.” and god Namjoon hopes they do this more than once. And do more.
At some point the playlist had stopped, the computer having gone to sleep without regular input. They grimace at the uncomfortable mess in their pants, but make no real move to clean up. Instead Yoongi wedges himself between Namjoon and the back of the couch. Namjoon watches a droplet of condensation roll down the outside of one of the whisky glasses on the table.
“I like you, Hyung. Like... in a horny but also mushy way.”
“You’re so fucking awkward, Joon-ah.”
“Just tell me you like me back. hyung.”
“Shut up. I’ve made it pretty obvious I do.”
“We’re gonna regret not cleaning up when we wake up,” Namjoon mumbles, arm under Yoongi’s head like a pillow. Yoongi burrows into him with a throaty rumble, nuzzling into Namjoon’s neck.
“Probably,” Yoongi agrees, already halfway asleep, warm and comfortable and satiated. “But I need my post-nut nap.”