Chapter Text
“Ow, ow, fuck, Namjoon, that hurts, hold on— ” Seokjin pants, tensing up against the bedframe where his arms are perched — and not in the good way.
“Shit, shit, sorry babe, I’ll— I’m pulling out now,” Namjoon replies sheepishly, carefully but quickly removing himself. Seokjin’s legs collapse on the bed on either side of Namjoon’s knees.
“Fuck, I think I pulled something,” Seokjin winces, digging his fingers into the divot below his hipbone and rotating in a circular motion. Namjoon’s hands instantly fall on Seokjin’s thighs, trying to soothe him as he brushes his fingers over Seokjin’s painfully tense-looking thigh muscles.
“I’m sorry, Seokjinnie, I know you said it was a bad idea but I thought that you could handle it so— ”
“Hush, Joonie, none of that now. I agreed to it too; this was no one’s fault.”
Namjoon sighs in frustration, pouting a bit. It’s moments like these when Seokjin is reminded again of how young his fianceé is. Being engaged to a 28-year-old at 32 feels like a lot but it’s nothing they can’t deal with. Well, usually.
“How are we so…how did we mess this up? Hyung, are we old already?” Namjoon asks pitifully.
“Come on, Namjoon, I’m supposed to be the dramatic one between the two of us. I think this is mostly a problem of elasticity. Flexibility. Versatility.”
“But we switch all the time,” Namjoon replies, bemused.
“No, I mean like — our muscles are probably like, stiff and unused, because neither of us are super into sports or anything,” Seokjin explains with a fond smile playing at his lips.
“I bike all the time, though,” Namjoon pouts again, and Jin is barely able to hold himself back from pouncing on him again to kiss that pout off his face.
“I know, baby, but I guess it isn’t enough. I mean, remember when your leg cramped up last week and then it didn't loosen up for another three hours?”
“Yeah… but that was because I tried to ride you and— Oh. I see it now.” Namjoon adjusts himself until he’s lying next to Jin. He wraps his arms around Seokjin’s waist, rubbing his aching hip with thoughtful delicacy. His fingers, long and firm, press into Seokjin’s hip so relievingly that within a few minutes he’s almost forgotten about the reason they had stopped in the first place.
Then Seokjin tries to sit up again, and positively yelps at the jolt of pain that goes down his thigh.
They really need to do something about this.
“So, don’t be mad, but…” Seokjin says the second Namjoon walks in the door. He’s perched against the kitchen counter with something simmering behind him, and Namjoon focuses a little bit too much on the savory smell for a moment before finally registering Seokjin’s words.
“Dear lord, what did you do this time?” Namjoon sighs, habitually tossing his briefcase onto the foyer table before walking over in three big strides to wrap his arms around Seokjin’s waist.
“Hey, that was just that one time! Also, well, I may have signed us up for yoga lessons,” Seokjin retorts a little sheepishly, sliding his own hands down Namjoon’s back and slipping his thumbs into the belt loops at the back of his waistline.
“Oh, that’s not so bad,” Namjoon hums, leaning forward to steal a kiss. Seokjin reciprocates without a second thought, but the moment he parts he sheepishly adds:
“They’re hot yoga lessons. Five times a week.”
“Oh my god, if you want me to be dead just fucking say so,” Namjoon rolls his eyes, impossibly fond. “Well, what exactly brought this on?”
“Come on, you know what,” Seokjin pouts, glancing away for a moment. Namjoon peers curiously at him.
“No… I don’t? That’s why I asked?” he replies, bemused.
“Well, if you must know, I thought it could help out a bit with our… flexibility problems,” Seokjin murmurs with uncharacteristically red cheeks. “Not to mention I’m still sore as fuck.”
“Ah,” Namjoon says wisely, his cheeks coloring as well. “So, we’re finally talking about it, huh?”
“Yeah, sorry, I just felt too self conscious. You know how it is,” Seokjin replies, quirking his lips into an abashed half-grin.
“Well, a week later is better than never, though I’m glad you took your time with it,” Namjoon reassures, fingertips familiarly pressing into the cute little divots at the base of his spine.
“Thanks, babe,” Seokjin smiles that adorable close-mouthed smile of this, and Namjoon melts. Unable to resist, he presses another sweet kiss to Seokjin’s lips. He’s so fucking lucky to be marrying this man. The pair cheesily stare into each others eyes before Seokjin’s eyes widen and his eyebrows suddenly shoot up high on his forehead.
“Fuck! The curry!”
It’s the day of their first hot yoga lesson, and suffice to say, Namjoon is nervous. He’s never really been into athletics of any kind — which is definitely what led to their current situation in the first place — so he’s terrified of fucking up and embarrassing himself. Even more than that, though, he’s worried about embarrassing Seokjin.
His apprehension begins to fade, however, when he sees Seokjin emerge from their room wearing the most ridiculous outfit. His mint green shorts end ridiculously high on his leg, and his paper-thin white tshirt doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Combined with the hot pink sweatbands wrapped around his forehead and his wrists, he looks like the picture perfect rendition of an 80s workout video.
“Is it weird that I find your outfit ridiculously hot? Emphasis on the ridiculous,” Namjoon grins cheekily.
“No, that’s exactly what I was going for,” Seokjin smirks. Namjoon’s eyes widen a bit, and his cheeks flush as he remembers Seokjin’s exhibitionist streak. “I love it when people know exactly what they can’t have,” he grins, walking over to Namjoon to loop his arms around his shoulders.
His lips hover dangerously close to Namjoon’s, and even though they kiss all the time (among other things), the tension in the one inch gap between their mouths has Namjoon furiously trying to think tame thoughts about grandmas and achy joints.
“Jinnie,” Namjoon’s voice wobbles a bit, despite his best efforts. “We need to be at this class in twenty minutes. We don’t have a ton of time to spare.”
“Fine, fine,” Seokjin rolls his eyes. “Your loss, babe,” he sing-songs as he grabs the keys from the dish on their foyer table and starts spinning it around on his finger. Before Namjoon can even think of a retort, Seokjin is already halfway out the door, hastily pulling on his sneakers. “Last one there’s a rotten egg,” he smirks before taking off.
Namjoon sighs, muttering to himself.
“But we’re driving there together…”
Namjoon hadn’t realized that “hot yoga” actually meant hot yoga. He feels kind of stupid, actually, sitting there on the damp mat, unable to reach his toes despite the 100-degrees-Farenheight room temperature. Moreover, he’s feeling kind of dizzy, but that’s not entirely because of the heat.
First of all, Seokjin had decided to sit on the mat in front of Namjoon, instead of by his side. This unfortunately place Namjoon in extremely dangerous proximity to Seokjin’s perfect ass. He tries to focus on the instructor’s voice, but it almost sounds hazy and far away. Not just once does he find himself scrambling to move into the next position, having been far too distracted to hear the instructions.
Second of all, a little more guiltily, his gaze keeps hovering towards their instructor every now and then. Despite not being able to properly focus on his voice at all times, Namjoon certainly isn’t having any problems with focusing on his face. Or his body, for that matter. His eyes are wide and bright, and the baggy tank top hanging off of his shoulders leaves nothing to the imagination. Namjoon tries and fails to avoid tracing the line of his biceps with his eyes, before glancing away.
Seokjin and he had spoken many times about their commitment to one another and what they felt comfortable with in their relationship. It had turned out that along with Seokjin’s exhibitionist streak, there may have been a little bit of polyamorous exploration. Which was extremely lucky for Namjoon, who has been openly polyamorous for a long time. He had made sure to emphasize again and again how in love with Seokjin he was, and how he would never do anything to hurt him. There was no need to add even further to the negative stereotypes that polyamorous people already have to face on a daily basis.
Seokjin had been delighted to learn about Namjoon, and even though he wasn’t quite sure where he himself stood on it, had assured Namjoon that he was confident enough in their relationship that he wouldn’t mind if Namjoon… appreciated other people. Especially because at the end of the day, the two of them would always return to their shared apartment. Together.
Try as he might, though, Namjoon can’t help but feel guilty. Especially when he notices that their instructor — who had introduced himself as Jungkook — is wearing skintight exercise pants (there’s a name for them, he knows, but he can’t quite remember). It’s easy to understand why his mind can’t focus on remembering the exact words because his stupidly horny brain that’s still all riled up from Seokjin’s pre-class antics is entirely too frazzled to complete an actual thought.
He instead tries to dig his toes deep into the mat, pushing his arms and legs as taut as they can go in his pose. He can feel the strain on his muscles, and it takes everything in him not to let his eyes tear up. He’s doing this for Jin, after all. And for himself, of course. But mostly for Jin. No way is he going to let his boyfriend get hurt thanks to his own poorly conceived ideas ever again.
Spandex! Namjoon’s mind abruptly provides, interrupting his thoughts. He grins to himself briefly before noticing that the classmates on either side of Seokjin are suddenly staring at him. Fuck, he wonders. Did I say that out loud?
“As a matter of fact, you did,” a smug voice comes somewhere from Namjoon’s left. He drops out of his snake pose and rearranges himself in a sitting position before looking up at Jungkook The Instructor.
He gulps audibly when he sees him; being able to see how gorgeous he is from up close is doing dangerous things to Namjoon’s mind. He’s only broken out of his reverie when he hears an extremely familiar snicker. His head shoots over towards Seokjin, who’s now sitting in a similarly relaxed position and smirking at him.
Namjoon’s cheeks redden impossibly further. He can’t imagine how awful he looks, absolutely drenched with sweat and not in the sexy way, skin nearly red from the heat and exertion.
“Next time, if we have something you wanna say, why don’t we keep it to ourselves til the end of class, okay?” Jungkook says gently, but there’s a firmness in his tone that makes Namjoon shiver internally.
He merely nods silently.
“Alright, class, it’s almost four-thirty so let’s just do a quick sun salutation as our cool-down and then you’re free to go,” Jungkook announces to the rest of the class, and walks towards the front of the studio.
Namjoon’s gaze follows his retreating form for a bit, trying and failing not to stare at Jungkook’s ass as he moves away. Then Namjoon’s eyes meet with Seokjin’s, who smirks at him knowingly. Namjoon scowls back and quickly stands up into a pranamasana pose. He shuts his eyes, trying to focus on the soothing music of the sitar without getting distracted by his extremely hot boyfriend and his extremely hot yoga instructor.
Needless to say, it doesn’t work.
They have phenomenal sex that night. Nothing acrobatic, of course, as they're already quite exhausted and their muscles strained. But Seokjin can't keep his hands off of Namjoon. Not in the doorway, not in the shower, and certainly not in their bed even as they curl up to sleep.
Clearly, Seokjin has other plans, which Namjoon is extremely grateful for as he spoons his boyfriend carefully, an arm wrapped around his waist, cock buried deep in his ass. They move together slowly, sensually, and Seokjin huffs out those quick little breaths of his that never fail to rile Namjoon up.
Namjoon grips onto Seokjin’s waist a little more firmly, fingers digging into his skin. He cants his hips up into Seokjin’s soft heat, and grins against the nape of his neck when he feels Seokjin’s hand placed over his own.
“You liked him, didn’t you,” Seokjin suddenly murmurs, and it’s not a question. Namjoon freezes.
“Is it bad if I don’t say no,” he replies quietly, unable to stop himself from continuing to grind into Seokjin.
“That’s not what I said,” Seokjin says lowly. “I asked if you liked him. Did you?”
“Maybe, y-yeah," Namjoon mumbles as grip tightens on Seokjin's waist.
“Good, because I did too.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah, I have eyes. God, he was so hot,” Seokjin sighs dreamily, tightening a little bit around Namjoon.
“He was so fit, and his lips were so— ”
“Yeah. And that little mole below his lip— it matches yours," Seokjin breathes fondly. “It’s like, I wanted to devour him, you know?”
“I wanted him to boss me around a bit more,” Namjoon admits, pressing gentle kisses against Seokjin’s nape as he rocks into him.
“Yeah? Is that what you want, baby?” Seokjin asks, his hand letting go of Namjoon’s and reaching up to wrap around the nape of Namjoon’s neck, pulling him closer. “You want to be bossed around by a pretty young thing?”
“Y-yeah, and I want you to watch, and tell me how pretty I am,” Namjoon murmurs, his cheeks flushing. They’ve never really talked in detail about dom/sub dynamics before, but they’d both expressed an interest in messing around with them before.
“You’re so pretty, baby,” Seokjin breathes, eyelids fluttering as Namjoon presses against that perfect spot deep inside him. “Would look even prettier on his dick, hmm?”
“Fuck, Seokjinnie,” Namjoon mumbles, his hips moving more frantically now. His hot breaths puff against the nape of Seokjin’s neck until suddenly his fingers tense against Seokjin’s waist. His whole body seizes, emptying his load into the condom.
Barely taking a moment to recover, Namjoon’s hand reaches down to wrap around Seokjin’s dick, and it doesn’t take more than a few tugs and a quick nip at Seokjin’s earlobe to have him coming all over Namjoon’s fist.
Namjoon pulls out, tying the condom and throwing it somewhere towards the dustbin. The two of them lie back on their bed, arms and legs spread contentedly. Namjoon kittenishly licks Jin’s cum off of his hand, cheeks ablaze as his boyfriend watches him heatedly.
“Come on, there’s no need to rile me up again with that shit,” Seokjin complains, but his gaze doesn’t budge from where it’s affixed to Namjoon’s mouth. “I’m so fucking tired.”
Namjoon finishes sufficiently cleaning his hand and immediately interlocks it with Jin’s, saliva and all.
“You know, in any other circumstances I would find this gross, but I’m too tired to care right now,” Seokjin grumbles good-naturedly. A few moments of silence pass.
“Jinnie, we should talk about this, right?” Namjoon asks quietly, his voice ever-so shaky.
“Yes, baby, we will, don’t worry. We’ll talk in the morning. For now, let’s just sleep,” Jin replies, turning towards Namjoon and scooting forward until now he’s the big spoon to Namjoon’s little one.
“Mm,” Namjoon agrees sleepily. “Sounds good.” His mind is already drifting away, the pleasant ache in his muscles and the satisfaction of release weighing down his eyelids.
The last thought he remembers before he falls asleep is wanting to wrap his own arms around an impossibly tiny waist and nuzzle his nose into long soft locks, all while Seokjin presses warmly against his back.
In his sleepiness, the thought doesn’t distress him.