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Technically, Taehyung isn’t wearing nothing. He just happens to be wearing very little.
He’s sure he must look odd to any passersby that happen to notice his bare legs, though his long strides make him scarce. He can’t afford to be late tonight, having taken the extra time to wrestle himself into the contraption that is modern lingerie, arranging delicate, white lace over the curve of his ass, the meat of his thighs, securing a garter belt of the same material around his waist, clasping closed the bralette and hooking the matching choker over the hollow of his throat.
He pinches his long, midnight black, double-lined coat closed at the top so as not to betray what lies underneath. It’s none of the public’s business, what his evening has in store. No, it’s his, and soon to be Namjoon’s.
He sighs, his steps slowing at the thought of his best friend, master GTA and quasi-expert bonsai grower. Years of small touches, untraceable moments and furtive glances have led up to this! It won’t be anything less than perfect.
Taehyung’s phone buzzes in his pocket and he speeds up again, not bothering to check who it might be. Whoever they are, they can wait. He has a date tonight, a big one, and neither the cradle of gentle snow beneath his feet nor the orange glow of street lights under an inky, lavender sky will slow him down.
The gift exchange is somewhat of a tradition, though Taehyung and Namjoon skipped the last couple years in favor of cohort graduation celebrations and mid-scale dinner parties. Taehyung had entirely forgotten the custom when Namjoon reached out to propose one last exchange before graduation.
It's been a while since we spent the night together, he'd said. Do you have time for one last present?
His phrasing cut deep. Namjoon, always so intentional with his words, had, in a single text, rearranged their relationship so completely that Taehyung’s organs found themselves all wound tight, his tangled heart pumping hard and fast, threatening to fly out of his chest and into Namjoon’s hands.
Taehyung’s response was a casual ‘ sure :)’. He would bide his time to confess. Besides, Taehyung had been provided with the perfect in, the most ideal opportunity to show Namjoon exactly the way he felt, the way he feels, the way he’s been feeling since he was nineteen years old. It’s that determination that leads him now, carrying his feet down the street, around the corner, through the front door, and up the stairs to land on Namjoon’s apartment doorstep.
Taehyung takes a deep breath. He knocks on the exhale. He smiles wide even as his lower lip trembles with nerves. Slowly, light from inside the door begins to flood the hallway and—
That’s not Namjoon.
“Taehyung-ah?” Yoongi peeks out from behind the door. Taehyung feels his smile fall. He nods.
“Hi, hyung. I'm looking for—”
“Namjoon? I don't think he's back yet,” Yoongi interrupts. He steps out of the apartment to look up and down the hallway, as if his roommate might be hiding somewhere against the scuffed, gray walls. “He's probably still working.” Yoongi turns back to face him.
“Are you sure he didn't text you?” he asks, leaning against the door frame.
Taehyung opens his mouth to say no, he would have known if his future husband had texted him when his pocket buzzes again. With one hand still gripping his collar tightly, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and quickly scans the screen.
From: Namjoon
Held up grading papers :[
See you in ten?
Taehyung thumbs out a response and shoves his phone back in his coat.
“He's fine—just grading. Some teachers get really lazy this time of year, you know?”
Yoongi chuckles and nods knowingly. The first year of his PhD has taken a lot out of him, Taehyung knows.
“I do. I really do…” he trails off. He turns around to look behind him and back to Taehyung. His eyes trail down his body and land somewhere around his knees. There's a pause. “Do you want to wait for him inside?”
Taehyung nods.
“Yes, I—”
Taehyung stops himself. The stuffy air of the hallways suddenly weighs heavy on his bare legs. His face warms despite the cold. He assesses his situation all at once, realizes exactly what Yoongi is staring at. He coughs into his fist, fights embarrassment back into his throat, and shakes his head.
“I can wait out here.”
“It’s no trouble,” Yoongi insists.
“I’m fine, really.” Taehyung takes a step backward.
“I’ll make space for you on the couch!”
“I like it out here, actually! Nice and toasty!” he exclaims as cheerfully as possible. Yoongi smiles.
“You’re shivering.”
And he is.
Damn it.
Taehyung looks around the frigid, empty hallway for anything that could save him. He finds it unfortunately bare, still lacking one Kim Namjoon or any markers of life, really, save for a single flickering sconce light. He turns back to Yoongi to see his eyebrows quirked and his gaze still trained straight on Taehyung’s calves. Taehyung bites back a sigh, defeated.
“Sure! Thanks for having me,” Taehyung says, pushing past Yoongi and removing his snow boots as quickly and confidently as he’s able, skipping the last few laces to tug them off his feet and throw them into a corner. He stalks past the entryway and turns to settle on the couch, bunching his legs up underneath him and inside the coat. Out of sight, out of mind. He can only hope he’ll be able to steer their conversation away from his ensemble for the remainder of their time together.
A new voice calls out, “Hi Taehyung-ah!” Taehyung turns to see Seokjin entering the living room from the bedroom to the right with a mug in his hand and a blissfully unaware smile on his face. Taehyung waves hello. Seokjin takes a sip. He gestures to Taehyung with his mug. “Where’d your pants go?”
Taehyung blanches. He looks up at Seokjin and back down where his bare knees peek out of his coat.
He lets his sigh escape this time. How could he have expected all of Namjoon’s roommates to be home at once? What are the odds? Slim, actually. He'd been betting on total privacy.
Panic sets in with Seokjin’s expression growing more scandalized by the second. Taehyung is running out of options, quickly. At this point, there is only one way forward: lying.
Taehyung straightens up, widens his eyes at the sliver of bare leg, places both hands on his cheeks and shouts: “Oh no! Where did they go?”
Seokjin’s eyebrows shoot up.
“What do you—you didn't know?”
Taehyung shakes his head.
“I can’t believe this is happening again.”
Seokjin sputters.
“Does this happen often?” he asks, bewildered. Taehyung frowns.
“Like you wouldn't believe.”
A long silence follows. Seokjin’s mouth remains frozen open in confusion. Yoongi hasn’t spoken a word. Taehyung finally turns to him to see his hands braced against his knees, his shoulders shuddering with laughter.
“Hey guys, what’s—oh, hey there, hyung! What’s up? Are you cold?” Jungkook asks, pointing at Taehyung’s legs and having emerged from the same bedroom as Seokjin.
That's three out of four. Taehyung opens his mouth, ignoring Yoongi as best he can and desperate to say anything to defuse the situation. Before he can, Jungkook speaks again.
“Hyung, are you okay?” he says, rushing over to Yoongi and pulling him upright. He pulls his sleeve over his thumb to wipe the tears of laughter that have appeared on Yoongi’s face. Yoongi struggles to catch his breath. He hiccups.
“I’m fine,” Taehyung answers, waving Jungkook off. Seokjin turns to Jungkook with a sly look in his eye. “What’s that you were asking earlier? To our dear Taehyung?”
“What’s that I was—oh!” Jungkook starts, turning away from Yoongi. Taehyung makes his best attempt to disappear into the couch. He could make a good home among the lint and loose change, he decides, blend in with the fabric, pretend he was never born. No amount of shuffling works, however, and so he's still there when Jungkook asks, “Yeah, hyung, you’re not wearing any pants! But you’re all bunched up together. Are you hot? Are you cold? I’m confused.”
Jungkook turns to Yoongi and Seokjin in turn for clarification. More tears stream down Yoongi’s face. Seokjin’s face is in his hands.
Taehyung lowers his eyes to the floor. He can find a way to control this, he’s sure. There are only three of them. He can explain everything! Yes, he'll find a way out of this, out of being teased mercilessly for years to come. It would be worth it to surprise Namjoon regardless, but Taehyung is clever. He's clever enough to be graduating with an M.S. after all! He earned honors from his undergrad! The only thing is—
“I heard someone’s not wearing pants,” Hoseok says, bursting through the second of three bedrooms. Taehyung lets his head fall back onto the couch, fully aware he’s showing more skin.
That's it. He's done for. This will be his legacy, now and forever, the one and only time he ever went anywhere without wearing pants and he'll never live it down. At this rate, Namjoon won't arrive and he'll be forced to walk home empty handed, made to watch the lace he's wearing rot in a dresser drawer, never to know its true purpose. He'll be the laughing stock of apartment 2D for the rest of his days, without a single passionate night to show for it.
“Yeah, Taehyung isn’t wearing pants!” Jungkook exclaims, pointing to Taehyung. Taehyung doesn't bother trying to tuck his legs further underneath him. He simply looks at Hoseok, who turns to him. Hoseok’s face softens slightly.
“Oh, it’s you! Namjoon’s expecting you. I guess he never told you that we have rules about wearing clothes in common spaces.” He walks up to Taehyung and pats his head. It's oddly soothing. “Just wear some pants next time, okay? You know we like when you visit.”
Taehyung nods.
“I know. And I will,” he promises, dejected. He looks around the room to see Seokjin having crossed the floor to pat Yoongi’s back, the latter now kneeling on the ground, attempting to soothe his erratic breathing. Jungkook slowly approaches Taehyung as Hoseok continues to pat his head. Taehyung closes his eyes and huffs.
“Your legs, hyung!” Jungkook says, reaching out to touch the spot right below Taehyung’s bare knee. “They’re so smooth!” He turns to Seokjin. “Can I shave my legs like this, jagiya?”
Seokjin nods, not taking his eyes off of Yoongi.
“You can do whatever you like, baby,” he answers. His eyes are bright with humor.
“Well maybe this means we need another house meeting,” Hoseok says, a statement met with groans from around the room. “When Namjoon gets here we should—”
“Ssaem!” Jungkook shouts in response to the crack of the door opening. It falls forward and Namjoon makes his way inside the apartment, the remnants of a few snowflakes still stuck to his hair, a faded mauve from when he and Taehyung dyed it together at the beginning of the semester.
Taehyung can’t help but smile at the sight of their mutual rebellion, even if he’d been too shy to dye his own hair with him as he’d promised. Next summer, he said, I’ll go blonde.
“Namjoon-hyung!” Taehyung greets him, moving to stand. With the first of the cool apartment air on his bare legs he promptly sits back down, concealing them as best he can. Namjoon turns to face him and smiles wide.
“Taehyung-ah! I have something special for you,” Namjoon says, holding the gift bag he carries in his right hand high. It’s Taehyung’s favorite shade of green, a deep emerald, with white tissue paper spilling out of the top.
Taehyung looks down, shy, suddenly. The gift wrap seems like a lot of effort for something sexy, something they’ll inevitably throw to the wayside as they become lost in the throes of passion.
“For me? You shouldn’t have,” Taehyung teases, shaking his head. Namjoon turns to move across the living room and over into his bedroom. He opens the door and turns to Taehyung.
“Come in,” he says, gesturing with his head. Taehyung nods aggressively and pops up from the couch, finally setting his legs free. He doesn’t bother turning back to see the others’ surely scandalized expressions—they don’t matter now. All that matters is the night he and Namjoon have planned together, the vibrant finale of years worth of pining, dancing around each other, dating anyone else but always seeing Namjoon, forever Namjoon.
Taehyung shuts the door behind him with a little more fervor than he intends. Namjoon jumps at the impact but recovers quickly, finishes setting down the bag by the bed. He looks up and smiles at Taehyung, walks across the small room and kisses his forehead. It’s a habit they picked up when Taehyung was a freshman, all those years ago. It’s a wonder it never led to anything more until now.
“You make yourself comfortable, okay?” Namjoon says, moving aside. “I’ll get the champagne.”
“Perfect!”
Namjoon opens the door to each of his roommates stumbling backwards, tripping over each other in a scramble to back away from the doorframe. Namjoon chuckles and shakes his head. “Be right back,” he says, turning to Taehyung.
Logically, he’s only gone for a few seconds, but the time Taehyung has to spend enduring Seokjin’s, Hoseok’s, Jungkook’s, and Yoongi’s stares individually feels like an eternity. He feels as if he’s been reduced to dust without pants when Namjoon returns without his coat. Somehow, in his eyes he feels whole again, once more determined to make the most of the evening.
Namjoon closes the door and Taehyung lets out a long breath. He drops his hand from his collar for a moment before correcting himself, remembering the surprise. It's difficult not to let go entirely in Namjoon’s presence, to relax and melt and expose himself without Namjoon ever having to say the word.
Namjoon sets the glasses down on the desk, brushing aside books and papers to do so. Taehyung grimaces at the sight of work, all too familiar. There will be none of that tonight.
“Let’s toast first, yeah? To graduation?” Namjoon suggests.
Taehyung nods.
“Let’s do it,” he answers. Namjoon smiles and turns around to pour the champagne. He’s calm, measured, careful about it, all the things Taehyung adores about him.
He’s always been a grounding force, supplied that drive that Taehyung needed to succeed in academia. And now here they are, nearly finished with their journeys, unless Namjoon decides to go for that PhD he’s always so starry-eyed about.
Namjoon is already pouring the second drink when Taehyung remembers why he’s here. It’s time, he thinks, struck with purpose. It has to be. There will never be another moment like this, where the ambiance is perfect, the snow against the purple city night falling in hushed tones against the window, the company just as soft. They’re warm, safe, familiar in here, just the two of them, never mind any prying ears.
Taehyung raises his head high and slowly, silently, lets go of his collar. He undoes his coat buttons one by one, threading them through their holes with a careful impatience. He can't fight the smile that takes over his face, the pure elation that it is to be here with Namjoon, to see the surprised look on his face. He’s going to die.
Taehyung lets his coat fall to the floor, watches it pool around him as Namjoon finally finishes pouring the second glass.
“Done!” he announces.
He spins around. He freezes. His mouth falls open. The glasses fall to the floor, landing with a thud on the carpet.
Taehyung can only giggle with glee. He knew it. He knew Namjoon would be speechless. His brain is probably static fuzz, perfectly engineered gray matter with all its usual brilliance set to overload by the white lace nightie set Taehyung selected just for this occasion.
He’d spent hours scrolling website after website, piecing looks apart until it all came together. He adjusts the twin garters he wears on his upper thighs, snapping one against his leg, relishing not only the sting, but the way it makes Namjoon’s face descend further into shock.
“Well? What do you think?” Taehyung asks with a lilting tone. Namjoon coughs.
“Uh—I—I think—why?” he asks, his usual baritone ascending to a soprano. Taehyung’s suggestive smile slips into a frown. He furrows his eyebrows.
“What do you—what do you mean why?” Taehyung asks, setting his hands on his hips. This isn't the reaction he planned for. Where is all of his thanks? The brilliance he's to be rewarded for? Where is that pure, unadulterated lust he expected to be met with? Why, in god’s name, are they just standing there?
Namjoon shakes his head.
“I just—what—why aren’t you wearing any pants?”
Taehyung holds back a scream. He crosses his arms.
“Are you seriously asking me that? This was your idea! You suggested we spend the night together! You invited me over! I endured an interrogation from all four of your roommates, risking their love and respect, not to mention my own dignity in the process and you’re asking me why?!”
Namjoon rushes up to him and takes his shoulders. Taehyung shakes him off with a shiver. The apartment is rather cold for the ensemble, but he thought he’d be experiencing a different kind of warmth by now.
“I just—I never thought this is what you’d think I meant…I just thought we’d trade gifts like we used to, you know? That stuffed bear you gave me?”
Taehyung nods tentatively. It was a sweet little thing, corduroy, all white. But what does that have to do with spending the night together?
“I remember. Of course I do. Do you still have that thing?”
Namjoon gasps.
“Of course I do!” he exclaims, offended. He points to the corner of the desk and sure enough, the bear sits there, its head lolled to the side. It’s a sweet gesture, much more thoughtful than Taehyung was when he panic-bought it on the way to Namjoon’s apartment three years prior.
But back to the matter at hand. Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“So when you said ‘let’s spend the night together’ and offered me a drink, I was supposed to think that meant nothing?”
Namjoon’s face goes blank. Then his expression assumes several stages, the first being confusion, the second understanding, and the third pure enlightenment. The final is a strongly distilled shame.
“I…I don’t know,” Namjoon says, raising a hand to scratch the back of his neck. Taehyung shivers again, trying his best not to think of the girth of the bicep raised in front of him, bulky even under his shirt.
“I just thought that we would do it like old times, back when it was just you and me. I know all those old gifts were pretty small, but they each meant something to me. Didn’t they mean something to you?”
“Of course they did,” Taehyung says, letting his arms fall to the side.
“And how long has it been since we stayed up all night talking? When was our last all-nighter? I thought we could do it one more time before we’re really adults, before we have to be all serious,” Namjoon explains.
“Like your hair,” Taehyung says, reaching out to touch it where it hangs over Namjoon’s ear. Namjoon leans into the touch.
“Like my hair,” he echoes.
Taehyung smiles, for a moment simply happy to be near Namjoon, to understand him, and, in that way, relieved. Then he jerks his hand away.
He looks down at what he’s wearing. Fuck. He misinterpreted what was supposed to happen tonight by far. He looks ridiculous, not sexy, and uninvitedly so. Now here he is, caressing Namjoon, as if he were his own, as if he’d read anything correctly. God, I’m so stupid.
Maybe they just aren’t meant for each other the way he wants them to be. Namjoon never wanted him like that. He just doesn't feel the same way and there’s nothing Taehyung can do to change it. Tears prick at Taehyung’s eyes.
“I guess I should—I should—” he begins, wrangling his champagne-soaked coat off the floor. Namjoon reaches for his hands.
“Where are you going?” he asks, taking them. Taehyung shakes his head as Namjoon pulls him back to stand in front of him.
“I look stupid. I feel stupid. I tried to take advantage of something that wasn’t real and I always—I always liked you and I thought this was it, this was my chance but I messed everything up. I’ve made a fool of myself and I should leave. I’m sorry. You deserve a real gift. I’ll drop something off tomorrow.”
Namjoon lets go of his hands and Taehyung scrambles for his coat again. Just as he grasps it, Namjoon takes him by the waist and pulls him close. He takes his chin and angles it towards him.
“Look at me,” he says. Taehyung blinks the beginnings of tears from his eyes and stares at the floor. After a moment, he raises them to Namjoon’s familiar eyes. Namjoon isn’t smiling, but there’s a hint of something new in his irises, the way they shine. There's something Taehyung has only seen once or twice in all the years they’ve known each other. Is that…desire?
“What?” Taehyung croaks. I just want to get out of here.
“You wanted to sleep in my bed tonight, correct?”
Taehyung hesitates. Then he nods. Namjoon laughs.
“If that’s what you really want for Christmas…” Namjoon begins.
“Namjoon—”
“Who am I to deny you that? Hm?”
Taehyung’s mouth falls open. He's more confused than ever. He studies Namjoon face for anything that says he isn't genuine, that he didn't mean what he just said. It wouldn't be the first time.
He finds nothing. But this can't be real. Namjoon didn't ask for this and he doesn't want him. Taehyung opens his mouth to speak, to tell him that he's going to leave and he has just enough time to take a quick gulp of air before Namjoon’s lips are on his.
Nothing else matters. Anything else that would or didn't or was never supposed to happen tonight doesn't matter because Namjoon is kissing him and it's more perfect than he can say.
Taehyung’s mind goes blank, whatever words was gathering lost to the ether. The kiss is warm, startling against the lingering frigid air that pulls the skin on Taehyung’s face tight, the frost that’s settled on the window their sole companion as they start to work against one another.
There is, of course, their entourage just outside the door, their bated breath echoing in Taehyung’s ears, but it won’t take much to send them running. All it takes, in fact, is a moan, one that builds and roars and rumbles in Namjoon’s chest for a gaggle of feet to patter off into the distance, for two doors to be slammed shut in tandem, and Taehyung can finally relax into the kiss, concentrate on giving all of himself to Namjoon, nothing left between them.
He wraps his arms loosely around the back of Namjoon’s neck, steps forward and closes the distance before them, his body pressed up against Namjoon’s. He’s met with the rough cotton of Namjoon’s shirt, the way it contrasts the softness of Namjoon’s hands, traveling up and down Taehyung’s body. The feeling of strong fingers on bare skin is nothing short of electrifying.
They start off chaste, sweet, small, closed-mouth kisses that quickly blossom into something more, Namjoon’s hands moving from Taehyung’s neck to his shoulders, down the soft flesh of his arms, tracing up and down his spine until they land just above his ass. His fingers are nervous, frozen in the air, as if there was a world where Namjoon would need permission to touch him.
But he does, because he’s Namjoon, and because Taehyung loves him, he breaks away from the kiss to nod.
“Touch me. Please,” he says, and Namjoon obliges. He recaptures him in a kiss and lets his hands fall lower, lower, until they rest at the top of Taehyung’s thigh, grip him with a sincerity, squeezing the firm flesh, gentle. Too gentle.
Taehyung expected a reaction for his outfit tonight, but it wasn’t this. It was something rougher, more aggressive, a side of Namjoon Taehyung has only seen come out over a particularly competitive board game after a night of general debauchery.
His face twists in confusion as he goes to break away, to ask him what’s wrong or if he’s changed his mind. The moment he opens his mouth to speak, his words are replaced with a cry prompted by Namjoon’s hand landing hard against the spot where his ass meets his thigh.
He jumps forward, startled, and lands with his head on Namjoon’s shoulder. Namjoon’s frame shakes with a chuckle.
“Too much?” Namjoon asks, rubbing the area to soothe it. Taehyung is sure he’s pink in multiple places. He shakes his head.
“Not at all. That was—yeah,” he says, melting into the sensation.
“Perfect.” There’s a smile in Namjoon’s voice. The moment Taehyung relaxes, Namjoon follows up with two more smacks, each one eliciting a gasp from Taehyung. He buries his head in Namjoon’s shoulder, his face warm and his body tense, not hiding but anticipating what’s to come.
He never expected Namjoon would like to mark him up. He can only hope the sting lingers.
Namjoon breaks away and Taehyung opens his mouth to ask what’s wrong only to find himself lifted into the air, carried the few steps it takes to make it to the half-made bed and be lowered gently onto it. He leans up to kiss Namjoon and whines to see him back away. He pouts and readies himself to argue when he’s caught, suddenly, by the way Namjoon is looking at him, the manner in which his eyes crawl up and down his body. They linger on the belt around his stomach, semi-obscured beneath the tulle nightie.
Taehyung is overcome with pride, with vanity, with the urge to highlight where his dark nipples are visible through gaps in the fabric, the stiff line of his cock pressing through the front of the boyshort panties, the soft curve of his ass just below their hem. He takes the trim of the nightie in his hands and raises it to his lower stomach. He looks amazing, he knows, and Namjoon seems to like it almost as much as he does.
After raking him up and down, fixating on everything from his neck to his waist to his ankles, Namjoon meets his eye, something dark and inviting in their shine. It’s then that Taehyung feels it, the distinct sensation of being wanted, being taken. A shiver travels down his spine.
“Cold?” Namjoon asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. Taehyung nods.
“Maybe if you come closer…”
That’s all it takes for Namjoon to practically leap across the bed, crawling on his hands and knees to cage in Taehyung completely. He swallows Taehyung’s gasp as he bears down on him, letting his weight sink lower and lower until Taehyung is crushed underneath him, his breathing short and the nightie scrunched higher onto his chest. The fabric of Namjoon’s shirt is warm and smooth against Taehyung’s stomach, plastic buttons pressing marks into his skin.
His shirt. Namjoon is still clothed. Taehyung shakes his head.
“Hm?” Namjoon asks, breaking the kiss. Taehyung takes advantage of their separation to work at undoing his buttons. Namjoon laughs.
“I never knew you could be so needy.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“I didn’t know anyone could possibly be this slow. If you loved me, you’d have been naked ten minutes ago.”
Namjoon laughs, bats away Taehyung’s hands, and leans back to finish unbuttoning his shirt himself.
“You’re impatient, Taehyung-ah. We’ll need to work on that tonight,” he says, shrugging his shirt off his shoulders. Taehyung follows suit, trading his babydoll for exposed skin. He tosses it off to the side before turning back around.
“I—” Taehyung begins, his mouth dry at the sight of Namjoon’s defined form. Previously, he’d been privy to his toned forearms at best. The sight of him all at once, sculpted to perfection, is almost too much. “—I’m not sure about that,” Taehyung finishes. Namjoon’s smile falls away.
“Oh, I’ll find a way,” Namjoon practically purrs, leaning down once again. He grinds down, their cocks aligned and the friction is the relief Taehyung didn’t know he needed. He moans into Namjoon’s mouth and bucks his hips up against him, the sensation teetering on the edge of almost enough.
“Hyung,” Taehyung interjects between kisses. If Namjoon heard him, he doesn’t show it.
Hyung,” he tries. Again, nothing. Fed up, Taehyung takes his nails and scratches down Namjoon’s bare back, thin, pink, lines that he’s sure must sting given the way groans.
His eyes shut with the pain and then he’s staring back down at Taehyung, past his face and eyes and right into his soul. There’s a wild shine in his glare, the only giveaway in his otherwise serious expression.
“Taehyung-ah…you want me to tell you what to do?”
Taehyung hesitates, then nods. Namjoon mirrors him.
“Good. Then you’re going to have to listen. Anything you do is on my command, okay?”
Taehyung nods emphatically. Namjoon kisses his forehead.
“Good. Now turn over. On your knees.”
Taehyung opens his mouth to talk back when he remembers what he just agreed to. Slowly, Namjoon backs up, giving Taehyung just enough room to flip over onto his stomach and raise onto his knees. From there, Namjoon backs off completely, leaving Taehyung cold and exposed.
The room is silent save for the soft hum of the heater and Taehyung is, forgive him, a little cold, a little impatient. After some time he lowers his front onto his elbows, his ass still raised high in the air, and shakes his hips back and forth, taunting.
He doesn’t talk back yet, too excited to see what Namjoon has in store for him. Besides, if he’s going to be punished, he’s going to show him he can take it well. Still, the minutes drag on, and Taehyung is just about to mouth off when a hand lands on his lower back.
Namjoon starts by gently rubbing the area, tracing his fingers around where the lace ends and skin begins before he moves on to Taehyung’s ass, tracing the patterns of the panties with careful attention. Taehyung starts to lose himself in it, mesmerized by his soft hand when Namjoon lets go. There’s no time to complain before he comes down hard, smacking Taehyung’s right cheek harder than he ever did earlier, so heavy Taehyung is sure the skin is red.
He cries out in response, unashamed of what Namjoon’s roommates might hear, their existence steadily fading from his awareness as Namjoon spanks him again and again, alternating cheeks. Taehyung, to his credit, is decidedly good. His hands grip the dark blue jersey sheets while he takes hit after hit, shuddering with pleasure, his cries fading into whimpers Taehyung doesn’t let the mattress absorb. Instead, the frosty December air carries his voice around the small room, echoing back in the corners.
Namjoon is mysteriously silent, save for the thwack of his hand, flesh meeting flesh. Taehyung almost wonders if Namjoon is enjoying it when he stops all at once. Taehyung turns around to look when Namjoon climbs onto the bed, takes Taehyung’s face in one hand and begins undoing his fly with the other.
“You did so well, so beautiful,” Namjoon says, leaning down to kiss his forehead. Taehyung flushes under the praise. “You want a reward?” Namjoon asks, breathless. He leans back and sits against the headboard.
“Uh-huh,” Taehyung slurs out, the sting on his cheeks leaving him dizzy.
“I need your mouth, then, angel.” Namjoon pushes Taehyung aside on the bed and finishes thumbing at the hem of his slacks. Taehyung raises himself on his knees and leans over Namjoon’s lap, his mouth already salivating at the sight of his bulge.
He looks up at Namjoon and bats his lashes, waiting for permission. Namjoon considers him, raises a hand to his face and slips his thumb in his mouth.
“Suck.”
Taehyung keeps eye contact and sucks obediently, laving his tongue over and around the intrusion, gathering saliva in his cheeks to show off just how good he can be.
Namjoon doesn’t smile. Nothing betrays pleasure, not even the quickness of his breath. He’s completely in control. Taehyung could just about die.
After a moment, Namjoon removes his thumb with a pop, hesitating for a moment before tracing it down Taehyung’s chin, chest, down to the choker around his neck and over to his pulse point. It’s then that Namjoon’s facade cracks.
“Perfect,” he whispers, more to himself than Taehyung. His eyes catch Taehyung’s once again. “Go ahead.” He removes his hand.
Taehyung gets to work right away mouthing at Namjoon’s cock through his boxers. He uses his hand to apply pressure where his mouth doesn’t fit, a move that Namjoon immediately corrects.
“No hands,” he admonishes. “I asked for your mouth.”
Taehyung flushes hot under his instructions. He acquiesces immediately.
Slowly, he tucks his wrist behind his back, his other hand coming to meet it. Namjoon’s hand joins after a moment, his thumb and forefinger circling Taehyung’s wrists together, not quite able to meet around them. Taehyung bites back a smile and re-focuses on the task at hand.
He sucks against the fabric, moans into it, the exact level of vibration that he knows will be enticing. It seems to work, has Namjoon’s breathing picking up above him, his hand holding him tighter still.
Before long, Namjoon is pulling him up by his hair, eliciting a hiss at the pleasure-sting on his scalp. He lets go and somehow manages to pull his cock out of his pants in one fluid motion. Taehyung’s mouth waters at the sight, the way it’s hard, heavy, dark with arousal already. Not only that, Namjoon should have mentioned that he was well-endowed.
“You’re…big,” Taehyung says, thoughtless, mesmerized. Namjoon shifts.
“Can’t take it?” he teases. Taehyung darts his tongue out to wet his lip.
“I was made to take it.” He flashes Namjoon a smile then he’s down, kissing up and down the length that Namjoon’s stabilized with his other hand, pressing long, wet smacks on the underside of his dick, all along the vein that protrudes from the shaft.
“Open.”
Taehyung lets his tongue fall out of his mouth and opens to accept the head of his cock between his lips, stopping to hollow out his cheeks and gingerly bobbing up and down as Namjoon mutters small praises.
He takes his time working his way down, taking more and more of Namjoon into his mouth, applying pressure with his tongue as he makes his way to the base. Namjoon removes his hand from his cock once Taehyung is far down enough, moving it to settle in Taehyung’s hair tugging only slightly, just enough to keep Taehyung in check.
When Namjoon’s cock breaches his throat, Taehyung pauses, choking on the intrusion, an act that has Namjoon sputtering curses, his fingers tightening in Taehyung’s hair. Taehyung wiggles his ass again in triumph, proud of the effect he’s having, his eyes starting to water as he sinks lower and lower, his nose brushing against the dark fabric of Namjoon’s slacks.
Then, all at once, Namjoon pulls him up and off of him, Taehyung gasping in pleasure and for air. Namjoon grips his head to face him. Taehyung blinks quickly, drool still connecting his mouth to Namjoon’s cock.
“Fucked out already?” Namjoon asks, teasing. Taehyung shakes his head as much as Namjoon’s grasp will let him.
“No?” Namjoon responds. Taehyung nods before shaking his head then nodding again. Namjoon laughs.
“Are you sure? I don’t know if you can take it.”
Taehyung rolls his eyes.
“Fucking please. You’ve seen me get through my thesis defense. I’m just getting started.” He hiccups. Namjoon laughs again.
“Oh really?” He leans down closer, within inches of Taehyung’s face. “Just what do you want then? What do you think you can take?”
Taehyung darts up to kiss him. Namjoon evades him neatly. Taehyung growls.
“I—I want you deep.”
“How deep?” Namjoon whispers, turning back to face him. Taehyung takes a gulp of air.
“I want to feel you in my stomach.”
With that, Namjoon lets go of Taehyung so he can remove his slacks, his underwear coming down with them. He tosses them to the side and pulls Taehyung into a deep kiss, his thumb slipping under the choker on Taehyung’s neck to tug gently, the knuckle of his thumb pressing at the hollow between his collarbones.
Taehyung returns the kiss with a fiery passion, pushing at his panties to slide down his legs. He kicks them off, then goes for his garters. Namjoon removes his hand with ease before pushing him down onto the bed, leaning over him and tracing his hand around his body, sure to snap the lacy bralette against his skin.
“‘M gonna be pink all over,” Taehyung says, breathless as Namjoon’s palm fans over his cock. Namjoon smiles.
“Red and purple too, if you’re good,” he remarks with a smile in his voice, sliding down the bed to position himself between Taehyung’s open legs.
He starts by tonguing at the lace garters, gnawing at them between his teeth before he moves on to empty skin, placing kisses, bruises and bites all up and down the meat of his thighs. He works his way up his legs until he’s still, focused on Taehyung’s cock, his gaze trailing from his balls down to his taint, puckered hole.
He raises one hand to grip Taehyung’s waist while the other hoists his leg up on his shoulder. Spread open, Taehyung braces for the feeling of Namjoon’s breath over his hole.
He starts with tongue right away, and he starts harsh.
Immediately, he’s sucking and licking at Taehyung’s hole, fighting his way in as he laps against it, Taehyung thrashing in his arms, the sensation overwhelming from the start. Taehyung’s breathing quickens as Namjoon works him open, the hand on his waist reaching down to join him in his work, opening him on one finger, then another.
He briefly pauses to fish a bottle of lube out of his nightstand drawer and then he’s back at it, scissoring Taehyung open with careful strokes. He moans as he fingers him, picking up his pace as he goes.
Taehyung is made to lie there, too overwhelmed to move and still held tight by Namjoon’s strong arm. Even when Namjoon brushes against his prostate, his first taste of what’s to come, the best he can do is lie there and cry out.
“I’m ready,” Taehyung breathes out as Namjoon adds a third finger. Namjoon chuckles and continues to open him up, adding a fourth not long after.
“Hyung!” Taehyung whines. Namjoon sighs but listens, sitting back and letting his fingers fall out of Taehyung before crawling over him once again. On the way up he kisses at the base of Taehyung’s belly, the head of his cock, leaving a trail all the way up his pecs, settling on a nipple on the way, and finally to the base of his neck. There, Namjoon sucks a dark spot under the choker, one Taehyung knows he’ll regret come class time but can’t bring himself to mind in the moment.
“Are you going to— ah!” Taehyung cries when he feels Namjoon finally enter him. It’s a slow process—Namjoon’s size lives up to its looks—but worth it to feel Namjoon fill him up inch by inch, a slow drag that leaves him gasping once again.
Namjoon settles just long enough for Taehyung to get a sense of the way he feels inside him. Then he leans up, kisses him, and starts to move.
Each thrust is hard, unforgiving. Taehyung wraps his arms around the back of Namjoon’s neck, digging in his nails to keep his grip. He half-attempts to meet his thrusts, jerking his hips as best he can but it's no use. Namjoon has him pinned to the bed, to take, to use. Taehyung has never been so thrilled in his life.
After a while he gives up, sinks low, low into the feeling, the warm embrace of his best friend, his hopefully-something-more. He almost doesn't notice when Namjoon slows his pace, only catches on when he feels him slip out.
“What did I—”
“Turn over.”
And so Taehyung turns over.
He doesn't get the chance to raise himself onto his knees before he feels Namjoon guide himself back into his hole, sinking in deeper than he'd been before. He feels him hesitate.
“What's wrong?” Taehyung asks. Namjoon lets out a sharp breath through his nose.
“You're—I just— tight,” he stutters out, and in that moment, that split second pause between words, Taehyung remembers the sweet, nerdy, not always great at public speaking, academic best friend of his underneath the rough exterior, the edge he seems to wear so well.
“Too much for you?” Taehyung laughs, endeared, wiggling his hips. Namjoon grunts.
“Thought you were too far gone to tease,” he mutters. Taehyung smiles, reveling in the feeling of being full, being weighed down by Namjoon’s body, safe and somehow floaty.
“It’s—it comes naturally.” Taehyung is further gone with each second. He feels Namjoon press a kiss to his shoulder.
“It does?”
“Only with you,” Taehyung admits with his face pressed into the sheets.
“What was that?” Namjoon prods. He starts to drag his dick out of Taehyung again. Taehyung whines.
“Only with—with you,” he says loudly, clearly into the room. Namjoon hums, a deep rumble in his chest.
“That's what I thought.”
With that Namjoon wraps a hand around the front of Taehyung’s throat, carefully to put pressure only on the sides. Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. Namjoon wraps his other arm around Taehyung’s waist and, finally, starts to pound into Taehyung.
He isn't teasing anymore, isn't seeking anything but the height of his own pleasure. He works hard and fast, handling Taehyung with sure hands, rough but careful, attentive and mean.
Taehyung loses all sense of the world around him, fails to notice the snow that now sticks to the window pane, the car horns outside the window, vehicles inching their way across slush-filled streets through blizzard-induced traffic. There are no roommates anymore, no ears to hear the soft cries that fall from Taehyung’s mouth, no prying eyes to witness his pleasure. There is only him, and there is Namjoon, and Namjoon is taking care of him the way only he knows how.
He fails to keep track of their limbs, to make sense of the knots they find themselves in so it comes as a surprise when Namjoon wraps his hand around Taehyung’s dick, stroking it firm and quick, harsh strokes pushing him higher, higher, faster and harder until he’s falling over the edge, coming into the sheets with Namjoon still not quite at his peak.
Taehyung’s breathing is still quick when Namjoon pulls back, leaving Taehyung exposed, cold without his body heat pressed on top of him. His whines die in his throat when he feels the first of Namjoon’s release hit his lower back, his ass, strips of white he can only picture as Namjoon finishes all over him. Taehyung sighs in pleasure, lets himself fully relax into the bed as he lets himself be claimed.
Namjoon collapses at Taehyung’s side in a heap when he’s done, his breaths deep and his voice low as he mutters unintelligibly. Taehyung moves in closer, presses his forehead against his, and sighs. He wants to be patient, but he can’t wait thirty seconds before moving in for a kiss, this one much gentler, softer than the others.
This isn’t about ownership or desire. This is simply an expression of closeness, a sweetness they developed long before Taehyung entered the bedroom. This is something uniquely them, on Namjoon’s lips a flavor Taehyung could never name but would recognize anywhere. This is all just for him, he knows.
A long time passes before either of them move. It’s Namjoon who shifts first, stands up from the bed and fetches a towel from some part of the room Taehyung can’t be bothered to identify. He cleans Taehyung carefully, patting gently.
Taehyung flips onto his back when he finishes and Namjoon sets to work first cleaning up Taehyung’s crotch, then his, wiping carefully until no trace remains. He sets down the towel and launches himself back onto a giggling Taehyung.
He takes him back into a series of kisses, Taehyung laughing with each one, whether from humor or disbelief, he really can’t tell. All he knows is he feels light, angelic, somehow.
“What are you thinking about?” Namjoon asks between kisses. Taehyung shrugs. He giggles again.
“You should have taken a picture,” Taehyung answers, coy. Namjoon averts his gaze, embarrassment dusting his cheeks. That doesn’t stop Taehyung seeing the pride in his eyes.
“We—next time,” Namjoon says, quietly. There are the faint sounds of Namjoon’s roommates speaking outside the bedroom door, along with the noises of the city, come back to life all at once. It’s an intoxicating rhythm, one that almost leads Taehyung to believe he ought to fall asleep right there.
“Hey, none of that,” Namjoon admonishes. Taehyung opens one eyes. He didn’t realize he’d closed them.
“You mean we shouldn’t sleep together? It’s a bit late for that.”
Namjoon smiles and rolls his eyes.
“We have to clean you up. I—I might have—”
“Oh, did you make a big mess with your big dick? I didn’t notice,” Taehyung teases, his eyes trailing down Namjoon’s naked form. He eyes his soft dick. A challenge, he thinks to himself. “Guess you’ll have to make another one,” Taehyung says, pulling him into a kiss.
“I—” Namjoon starts, cut off by Taehyung once again. He doesn’t resist, falls into Taehyung just as easily as he did before. Soon, his hands are roaming, and Taehyung can feel him once again hard against his thigh.
“But wait,” Namjoon says. Taehyung stops.
“What is it?”
“Is this really okay?” Namjoon asks.
Taehyung laughs. As if it could be anything else.
“It was always you, Namjoon-ssi. It was always you.”
Namjoon looks like he always does: like there’s more he has to say. And Taehyung is sure there is, but for now they are together, moving as one, moving in pleasure, and they have the rest of the night to talk, the morning to throw alcohol-soaked coats into traumatized roommates’ laundry.
Taehyung sinks back down into desire and he does so willingly. It was always them, and always will be. With or without pants, they have each other.