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“....And Ikje hyung somehow managed to get his head out of his ass long enough to cover the fourth floor while- Seokjin, are you listening to a word I’m saying?”
Namjoon’s voice coupled with fingers formerly occupied by methodically cleaning one of his AR-15s (this variant is the Colt AR-15 A3 Tactical Carbine, as Seokjin had been informed earlier) and currently paused, mid stroke, are enough to bring Seokjin out of his trance-like state.
“Excuse me?”
The younger narrows his eyes and gives a slight shake of his head, eyebrow twitching in irritation as he clears his throat and Seokjin fucking swears he isn’t blushing. Namjoon’s entire being is radiating something akin to frustration but the older man can’t keep his eyes off of the gun perched between long, gracefully sloped fingers for long enough to pay much attention to anything but the feel of it.
Namjoon exudes power in everything that he does. From the bass of his voice that thrums low in Seokjin’s gut with every whisper and growl, to his stature as he looms over everyone (including those taller than him), to the way he swipes a once pristine cloth over the stainless metal of his guns, soaking up the blood and dirt medals earned from the nameless men killed at any given time.
A pink tongue slides over plump lips as Seokjin forces his eyes up to Namjoon’s own when he speaks again, going over their latest heists and how some grunts had nearly jeopardized things worth more than their lives warranted. It’s always amused Seokjin how out of the two of them, Namjoon is the boss. He’s a hustler in any and every sense of the world- and he’s entirely proud of it. Seokjin himself is one of Namjoon’s many prizes.
Granted, while Seokjin is employed through headhunting just like the rest of their company, the perks he enjoys given his particular job title are more than enough to make him feel less like legal tender and more like Namjoon’s toy.
Among Seokjin’s duties, however, as Namjoon’s personal stress reliever is to listen to stories about his day and he’s been finding it increasingly difficult. Through tight schedules, Namjoon finds himself with less time to do things one at a time, so he’s taken to cleaning and unloading (only to reload) his guns while he talks with Seokjin. Occasionally, he’ll have an artfully crafted knife to clean as well, but they never quite heat the older’s skin that particular shade of pink like Namjoon’s guns do.
“You’ve been pretty distracted lately, Jinnie,” Namjoon muses upon finishing his story, reloading the AR-15 with what Seokjin has learned to e 300 AAC Blackout bullets. They’re fucking massive and Jinnie watches how smoothly they slide in with slight awe. “What’s got your pretty little head so turned around,” Seokjin’s breath hitches as Namjoon steps closer, gun strap balancing on a broad shoulder as the weapon wavers dully at his hip. “That you’re prioritizing it over your job?” There’s a thinly veiled threat in the words, Namjoon’s voice tapering into a growl as his fingers come to tilt Seokjin’s chin.
The grip is too hard for Seokjin to open his mouth and reply- not that he’s supposed to anyways- and Namjoon’s growing smirk has the brunet’s knees feeling weak.
“See to it that it’s fixed before I make you explain yourself,” Seokjin’s eyes widen slightly. “Don’t forget your fucking place.”
Yeah, Seokjin may be the hyung, but Namjoon’s never been one for formalities and Seokjin forgets to bring it up when fingers are pressing bruises into his throat and Namjoon’s wrecking him so thoroughly he can hardly stay conscious let alone remember honorifics.
And as far as Namjoon is concerned, Seokjin’s only earned title is bitch.
--
Seokjin doesn’t slip up again for a week. Mostly because Namjoon isn’t around- he’s got business halfway across the country- but when the younger man returns, Seokjin is presented with the calm before the storm. Namjoon is calculating when he presses Seokjin into the wall, all dilated pupils and burning touches as his fingers dance along readily bared skin.
Namjoon grinds slow and steady into Seokjin, fingers slipping under his shirt, the fabric across Seokjin’s shoulders tight enough to have the buttons threatening to pop off when Namjoon pins his hands above his head. Seokjin lets his head loll to the side as Namjoon peppers kisses to his blushing skin, lip quivering with every brush of teeth and ghosts of amused laughter.
The brunette squirms against Namjoon’s hips, unable to stop the off-beat rut of his own hips as Namjoon kisses back up to his mouth. There’s a teasing bite at already swollen lips and Seokjin takes Namjoon’s tongue in greedily, whining lost between their mouths.
“You’d better stop moving around so much,” Namjoon mutters between kisses, angling his body slightly so he can slot his knee between Seokjin’s thighs. “My pistol still has a few rounds left in it.”
Seokjin knows Namjoon only carries automatics and he’s hyperaware of the metal pressing to the side of his leg, forcing a high pitched moan past his lips that Namjoon takes as scared, ignoring the way it’s dripped black with lust and adrenaline.
He accidentally bites Namjoon’s tongue when the blonde makes a move to remove his gun from it’s holster, a panicked apology cut short by the pain-spiked arousal in Namjoon’s responding kiss. It’s bruising and deliciously so, dizzying enough for Seokjin to only vaguely register the buttons popping off of one of Namjoon’s favorite shirts (on Seokjin more than himself).
Namjoon is considerate enough- or maybe he just doesn’t want to have to hunt down and re-train someone else to fill Seokjin’s position in case he accidentally did shoot Seokjin- to actually remove the firearm, placing it delicately on the bedside table. The action is a stark contrast to the way he throws the older onto the bed, crawling over him and looking Seokjin over so possessively that the latter can’t help the thrill of fear that shoots through his body.
Seokjin is Namjoon’s prey and he loves it.
--
Seokjin honestly has no fucking clue what Namjoon is prattling on about. He’s tried to tune his attention in multiple times, to no avail. However, he’s painfully aware of the way Namjoon’s voice has dropped as he polishes the barrel of his favorite handgun, a Colt, Seokjin knows. The blonde's eyebrows are furrowed and his eyes are too intense, focused on every last detail in his ministrations even as he’s telling yet another story. Seokjin tries to nod at the proper times, but when he hears the mechanical click before Namjoon removes the bullet, there’s heat pooling in his gut and he can’t bring himself to worry about the wrath he knows he’ll face if he’s caught.
Or rather, when.
Which he inevitably is.
“You’re blushing,” Namjoon states, and fuck, Seokjin thinks because yeah, he heard that and yeah, Namjoon noticed again, motherfuck- “Why?”
Seokjin laughs. It’s lilting and nervous and Namjoon picks up on it immediately, one eyebrow arching in a question he won’t repeat.
“Am I? I hadn’t noticed…”
“Fucking bullshit, Kim Seokjin,” Said man shivers at the darkness lurking in Namjoon’s tone, backing up a staggered step. “Don’t you make me ask again.”
The taller man’s fingers twitch on the gun in his hand and Seokjin lets out an airy whine. This seems to interest Namjoon, whose lips curl into a smirk despite the disbelief alight in his eyes.
“What was that?”
“Nothing,” Seokjin tries, cheeks burning as Namjoon raises the hand holding his weapon closer to the taller man’s body. Namjoon doesn’t stop until the gun is level with Seokjin’s throat, cool metal sliding menacingly along his skin. “I just…”
“You’re just a kinky little shit, aren’t you?”
“Namjoon.” Seokjin breathes, though it tapers into a whine and Namjoon is grinning, sending Seokjin’s heart into his throat.
“Of all the things for you to get off to,” Namjoon continues, backing Seokjin up. The older bites back an excited noise when the backs of his knees hit bedding, fighting the urge to let himself buckle under Namjoon’s overwhelming presence. “You decide you’re into guns.”
“Get on the bed, Seokjin.”
Seokjin relishes in the heat that wraps around his spine as he crawls to the middle of Namjoon’s bed, waiting for further instruction.
“On your back.”
Namjoon props Seokjin’s knees up upon following him onto the bed before moving to straddle him. He uses Seokjin’s thighs as support as he levels his crotch with the older’s resuming his ministrations on the gun as he speaks.
“You know, Jinnie, I could kill you like this if I wanted to.”
Seokjin’s hips jerk under Namjoon and the latter’s grin waxes cheshire. He discards the cloth behind them on the bed and leans forward, one hand beside Seokjin’s head to support him as the other cocks his empty gun.
“You fuckin’ love that though don’t you? Knowing that I can do whatever I damn well please to you.”
The cold tip of the gun taps at Seokjin’s lips and they fall open with a moan, tongue dragging along the metal before Namjoon slides it in. He knows his jaw is gonna ache later, but adrenaline and lust win over being sore any day. He stares intently at Namjoon’s hand, fingers poised to pull the trigger at any moment and fuck if he isn’t too turned on to be scared.
A voice in the back of Seokjin’s head reminds him that Namjoon wouldn’t really hurt him, and he finds his lips curling up into a contented smile around the barrel before he can catch it.
Namjoon takes note and rolls his hips down onto Seokjin, lips grazing past sweat-soaked bangs splayed haphazardly across Seokjin’s forehead.
“Betcha there’s no one else who could do this to you,” Seokjin whimpers around the gun when Namjoon’s voice growls low by his ear. “Make you moan and whine ‘cause you fucking want it when there’s a gun in your mouth. No one else who’d indulge in your sick little game,”
Seokjin ruts his hips up to meet Namjoon’s and groans in satisfaction when the younger pushes the gun in farther.
“And baby I can fucking promise you there’s no one else who’d be able to wreck you like I can.”
The older keens around the cold metal, pleasure spiking in his blood as Namjoon continues his ministrations. He’s got precum soaking through his underwear, stretched around his straining erection and it’d be degrading with anyone else but through the pure dominance and want in Namjoon’s eyes, he can see the spark of trust resting there. Trusting Seokjin to trust him.
So Seokjin will come undone for him. There’s drool sliding down his chin and it’s a little harder to breathe around the width of the gun as he hiccups out moans in time with the grind of Namjoon’s hips. He wants so badly to last long enough for Namjoon to fuck him, but there’s fire licking at his stomach and scorching across his skin, sending prickles of an infuriating pleasure through his nerves.
“Gonna cum like this? Without even fucking being touched? God you’re so fucking filthy, Seokjin.”
Namjoon talks him through his orgasm, reminding him of how good he looks crying like that and how Namjoon’s nowhere near through with him.
The younger strips them of the remainder of their clothing, and Seokjin is practically purring in anticipation, body still oversensitive when Namjoon’s hand wraps around his cock, thumbing at the cum dripping thickly down the head. When Seokjin’s whine grows pained from too much stimulation too fast, Namjoon pulls his hand away, bringing it up to Seokjin’s face and letting the older suck the digits between swollen lips.
Namjoon scissors his fingers and rolls Seokjin’s tongue between them, tugging on it gently and making him groan softly before removing his hand.
“Reach into the nightstand and grab me the lube, Jinnie.” Namjoon rumbles out, fingers trumming impatiently along Seokjin’s inner thighs as he settles between them. Seokjin passes him the lube shakily, already growing needy with each hot puff of breath against his skin. Namjoon drizzles some of it onto his fingers and plays with Seokjin’s hole, staring up through his eyelashes as he teases.
“Namjoon, please,” Seokjin nearly growls, one trembling hand reaching to thread into Namjoon’s hair. “Don’t tease me.”
“I don’t really think,” Namjoon murmurs, lips sliding along soft skin. “That you get to decide whether I tease you or not.”
Seokjin opens his mouth to complain, fingers tightening in Namjoon’s hair when he feels Namjoon’s tongue slide along his entrance. His back arches harshly, a curse falling roughly from his lips as he tries to squirm away. Namjoon grips Seokjin’s hips hard enough to leave finger-shaped bruises blooming, holding burning eye contact as he flattens his tongue, alternating between soft flicks and harder, more probing ones.
“Fuck, fuck-” Seokjin whines, one hand coming up to cover his grimace. It feels too good but too taboo- his toes are curling in pleasure but the prickling heat settling in his gut makes him want to get away. “-Namjoon-” He tries again, hissing as Namjoon’s tongue stretches him.
“You taste good though,” Namjoon hums, a dimpled smirk curling his lips. “Strawberry is my favorite flavor.”
And Seokjin really should have payed better attention to what bottle he handed to Namjoon, because that flavored fucking lube that has long since rolled off the bed is both a blessing and a curse. He knows Namjoon would have teased him another way if it weren’t for that, but something about the way Namjoon is dominating him even though he’s the one looking up at Seokjin instead of the other way around drives Seokjin crazy.
Namjoon does end up obliging Seokjin, sliding a finger in and curling it, sending a shock of pleasure up Seokjin’s spine. Namjoon wastes no time working Seokjin open the rest of the way, giving him just enough time to adjust to the first finger before there’s a second one stretching him. The older is shaking by the time he can feel Namjoon sliding the tip against slick skin, moving to fuck against his thigh until Seokjin lets out a low moan.
“Fuck me already,”Seokjin pulls Namjoon in by his hair for a kiss, earning him a growl and sharp bites at his lips.
Namjoon ends up flipping Seokjin over, tugging him up by his hips and spreading his legs. Seokjin looks back to see Namjoon lining himself up, pushing the head against his hole and pulling back. Seokjin whimpers loudly, to which he gets a hand on the back of his head, grip tight on his hair as he pushes it into the pillow. Namjoon presses his chest against Seokjin’s back, lips grazing against the latter’s ear just shy of Namjoon’s hand.
“Shut the fuck up, didn’t you bitch enough tonight?” Seokjin feels Namjoon’s voice resonating as much as he hears it, before that hand is sliding to his neck and holding him in place as Namjoon finally slides inside.
“Yeah, moan a little louder. Do what you do best,” Namjoon purrs as he fucks Seokjin slow and hard. “Show me you’re worth your fuckin’ salary.”
Seokjin loses himself in the feeling of fingers tightening, pulling at soft hairs as they put just enough pressure to make the lack of air push him closer to the high he’s been craving for days. His moans break where Namjoon snaps his hips, using his grip to pull Seokjin back into each thrust as the older claws helplessly at the sleek headboard. He knows he won’t last long, his whole world narrowing down to Namjoon’s hands on him, the way Namjoon fills him up, Namjoon’s throaty groans, Namjoon, Namjoon, Namjoon.
Seokjin’s heartbeat is rapidfire and uneven, thumping to the beat Namjoon is pounding into him as his voice pitches higher. His nerves are on fire, buzzing with the need to get off, the words please please on his tongue when he feels something cold replace Namjoon’s hand on him, nestling against the back of his head with a metallic click. Seokjin is keening before he registers that Namjoon just cocked the gun and he’s shaking hard enough to make his body slump.
“Cum,” Namjoon demands, and Seokjin can’t deny him. He nearly cries when he does, vision blurring and growing dark around the edges as he shudders through his orgasm. He clenches around Namjoon when the younger slams into him with abandon, seeking his own release and finding it only moments later with a drawn out curse.
Once Namjoon’s milked his orgasm for all it’s worth, he pulls out and flops down onto the other side of the bed, tossing the gun down by the foot of the bed and jolting Seokjin out of his blissed out state.
“Namjoon! It could have gone off with you throwing it like that!”
Namjoon gives him a sidelong glance, a dimpled smirk appearing as he shakes his head.
“You say that like I’d play Russian roulette with my most prized possession at stake.”
Seokjin can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at that.