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Magic is in the eye of the beholder

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It’s way past 2 am when Namjoon finally comes home, but he’s not surprised to find that Jungkook is still awake.

 

He’s on his phone, hair soft and face clean, washed off the make up that’d been here hours before.

 

“You should go to bed earlier.”

 

“You went to bed at 5 am yesterday,” Jungkook answers without missing a beat, then smiles at whatever he finds on his screen.

 

Namjoon puts his bag down and sighs deeply, relieved that he’s finally home. He’s tense, tired from dancing and sitting stiffly for too long. His clothes are cumbersome, the large scarf and black shirt heavy on his back and around his neck. The small belt holding the outfit together isn’t pulled tight yet he feels it every time he exhales, and the scarf hasn’t stopped bothering him the whole night, hindering his steps, too long, too heavy and too large to be worn easily. The leather pants hugging his thighs are too tight, as they always are, and Namjoon wants nothing more than to strip of all his clothes and remember what it’s like to have his blood circulate in his legs again.

 

He understands they need to look fancy at award shows but he is impatiently waiting for large clothes and sweatpants to be considered classy.

 

Jungkook spares a glance at him when he locks the door behind himself.

 

“You’re still wearing those clothes?” he asks, surprise evident in his voice.

 

“Yeah, it was getting late so I told the staff to go home. I’ll give it back tomorrow.”

 

He’d stayed late to the ceremony, busy talking with friends and celebrities he couldn’t quite turn down. The rest of the group had left first, and he’d ended up staying longer at the venue that he’d intended.

 

“So you’re keeping that outfit for the night,” Jungkook says, and he sounds hopeful.

 

“No? I mean, I’m not going to sleep with it.”

 

“But you have it until tomorrow.”

 

“Technically yes but I’m just going to fold it neatly until the staff takes it back tomorrow.”

 

Jungkook puts his phone down and stares, unblinking.

 

“What?” Namjoon asks warily.

 

“The clothes,” he says, gesturing at Namjoon. “That scarf thingy.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“It looks like a cape?”

 

“A cape,” Namjoon repeats. He looks down at himself, at the long ends of the cloth falling unevenly around his legs.

 

“A nice cape,” Jungkook continues. “Like one of these capes in Harry Potter. Or those leather jackets in Matrix? Or you know-”

 

“It looks like a dress doesn’t it.”

 

“It looks like a dress,” Jungkook admits, shameful. “You look like a wizard or- or awitch. I want to show you my best magic tricks.”

 

“You don’t know magic.”

 

“Not true!” Jungkook argues, somewhat petulantly. “I have a great disappearing act.

 

“Yeah? What’s that?”

 

Jungkook looks pleased that he asks. He points at Namjoon then at his own mouth, “You put your dick in there and I’ll make it disappear.”

 

Namjoon refuses to laugh at this but alas, he already is. He puts a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the loud haha! that escape him. He remembers, fondly, a time where Jungkook couldn’t say the word dick without blushing.

 

“That sounds like a threat,” he says, smiling wide. “It disappears and then? Where is it going?”

 

Jungkook shrugs. “Gone forever.”

 

“The point of a disappearing act is that whatever disappears has to reappear. Otherwise you’re just talking about cannibalism.”

 

Again, Jungkook shrugs.

 

“You’re not are you? Cannibalism is morally wrong, please stop watching Hannibal.”

 

Jungkook scoffs, looks offended – at being told what to do and not at being told cannibalism is vile, he assumes.

 

“You’re insulting my craft,” he protests. “My skills which I have honed for months. You know nothing about magic.”

 

“Actually I know a magic trick too,” Namjoon counters and Jungkook perks up with interest. “It’s a disappearing act too.” He points at Jungkook then at himself. “You put your dick in my ass and-- wait that sounds dirtier out of my mouth than it did in my head.”

 

He cuts himself off but it’s too late, Jungkook is already laughing madly. It's a loud cackle more than a dainty giggle, his face nothing more than a big nose with protruding teeth. He reminds Namjoon of Mr Potato Head and it makes him feel soft and mellow inside.

 

He hides his mouth again when he finds himself laughing along.

 

“What are you making me say?”

 

“You said that on your own hyung!” Jungkook exclaims. “Don’t blame me.”

 

“It’s 2 am, I don’t know what I’m saying.” He puts his hands on his hips. “But also, it’s 2 am so if you want to have sex, we better get to it soon.

 

Jungkook perks up. “With the cape on?”

 

Namjoon makes a face. “Yeah, sure, with the...cape on.”

 

“You’re not going to tell me those clothes don’t belong to us so we can’t dirty them?”

 

“Those clothes don’t belong to us so we can’t dirty them, but I’ve been sweating in there for literal hours anyway.” He beckons him over. “Come kiss me already.”

 

“Yes sir,” Jungkook bounds up from the bed, giggling at Namjoon's answering grimace. He’s wearing a big black hoodie and black sweatpants and looks like a proper trash bag, but he’s still the cutest thing Namjoon has ever seen.

 

Jungkook stops in front of him and takes a second to touch the large cloth hanging around his neck. He pulls on the tails of the fabric to make it even, stretching the cloth so it envelops his body like a proper dress. When he feels satisfied with his work, he leans forward and Namjoon is there to meet him and sigh softly into his mouth. Jungkook smells like mint toothpaste and the almond cream he uses to moisturize his skin.

 

Jungkook opens his mouth against his and takes several steps forward, forcing Namjoon back until he’s against the wall. Then the boy tilts his head, his large nose pressing into Namjoon’s cheek, soft lips against his and a warm tongue at his teeth.

 

He feels the faintest brush of fingers on his hair before Jungkook's hands settle on his shoulders and he mumbles into his mouth, “I don't want to mess up your hair.”

 

“You're not missing out on much.”

 

Namjoon 's hair is still greasy with gel and he knows that's not pleasant to the touch. Jungkook's hair, on the other hand, look clean and soft and from this close he can smell Jungkook's fruity shampoo.

 

Jungkook's thumbs press into the folds of his scarf and he bites out a frustrated, “I don't want to mess up your clothes either.”

 

Namjoon shrugs. “Touch wherever you want,” he says. He tugs on the collar of Jungkook's black hoodie and continues, “But first take this off.”

 

Jungkook diligently strips off the cloth, throwing it carelessly aside before he latches onto Namjoon again, hands sliding into the back-pockets of his leather pants. Their mouths slot together and Namjoon lets his hands run down the expanse of Jungkook’s firm chest, brushing over his sensitive nipples and running down his ticklish sides. He feels warmer touching Jungkook, feels the tell-tale signs of arousal and lust as he reaches the two dots down his back, like dimples above his ass. Jungkook is lithe and feels small in his embrace but he’s built well and his back is sturdy, the very picture of Namjoon’s wet dream.

 

They kiss loudly, breath moist and warm on their faces, tongue smooth and soft against their lips.When they part Jungkook's lips are shiny and Namjoon imagines his look about the same. He presses soft kisses at the side of Jungkook’s head, making his way down the crook of his neck to mouth silent words into his skin, knows Jungkook doesn't understand them, hopes they'll be etched into his skin nonetheless. He feels Jungkook breath into his ear, jerky and impatient, fingers digging in the leather over his ass.

 

Jungkook shifts his hips and Namjoon feels his boner against his hips. He takes his time, tracing the contour of his jaw with his mouth, sucking on the soft skin behind his ears where the marks won't show. Jungkook grows febrile in his arms, soft and willing, hands curling into fists in his back-pockets, and Namjoon feels increasingly hotter. He’s overdressed, caught in a bubble of warmth, already perspiring enough for sweat to form a thin layer all over the skin of his back.

 

Hmm,” Jungkook moans softly when Namjoon’s fingers press into his nape.

 

“Baby,” he whispers, knows he has his attention when teeth graze his lips. “It’s getting late.” He lets his words hang in the air, lets his nails dig into Jungkook’s skin to make him moan again.

 

A hand slides out of his back pocket, sneaking its way to his crotch. The long scarf gets in its way and Jungkook pushes it aside so he can press his palm against the front of Namjoon’s leather pants. Namjoon groans, lets his head bump against the wall behind him. Jungkook rubs him through his pants, and if Namjoon thought they were tight before it’s unbearable now. He has barely enough space to grow a boner, feels trapped by heavy clothes and constricting pants. He shivers at Jungkook's touch but his body is burning and his brain grows fuzzy. There's nothing else in his mind right now but Jungkook.

 

He aches for his touch, for a naked body against his, into his, for pretty moans into his mouth. His body is a bed of hot ashes, fire reklindling everytime Jungkook exhales against his throat. He likes that feeling, likes kissing Jungkook and feeling how needy he is, likes the rush of embarrassment and pride that comes with knowing Jungkook wants him, how much he wants him.

 

Even at his worst, he can never be needier than Jungkook. Namjoon nimbles on the shell of his ear and it’s all it takes for Jungkook to shove his hand down his pants.

 

Uh,” Namjoon swallows down a moan, looking back down at the red tips of Jungkook’s ears as he feels him up above his briefs.

 

Namjoon tugs on his hair, pulls his head back to show his face, flushed pink, breathless from having trapped himself in Namjoon’s neck. “Baby,” Namjoon coos, voice higher than it should be as a hand impatiently rubs at the head of his clothed cock. “Easy,” he whispers, before leaning in to capture Jungkook’s mouth again, coaxing his tongue out. He makes the kiss slow, languid, a complete 180 from Jungkook's rough petting over his briefs.

 

Jungkook breaks apart to look up at him, white teeth showing in a mischievious smile.

 

“Are you ready?” he asks.

 

“What for?”

 

“My best disappearing act.”

 

He doesn’t have time to catch up, not until Jungkook is already on his knees, unzipping him. “Holy f- warn a guy.”

 

His hands settle on Jungkook’s shoulders and he watches him struggle to pull his pants down.

 

“It’s really tight,” he mutters.

 

“Don’t I know.” Namjoon wriggles to help him, but the leather fabric is stretched around his thighs, and the sweat makes it stick like second skin.

 

Eventually Jungkook manages to tug the cloth down until it rests above his knee-high boots. He doesn’t seem in a hurry to take the shoes off, forgoing them to stare at his cock hungrily.

 

It’s hard, and it curves towards his stomach, peeking between the two flaps of the black scarf. Namjoon thinks it looks a bit ridiculous but Jungkook looks pretty taken with the sight.

 

Abracadabra,” he whispers, and takes him into his mouth.

 

This surprises a moan out of Namjoon, hands flying to grab onto Jungkook’s hair.

 

He can’t help the breathless laugh escaping his lips. “You just-” he pulls Jungkook’s head back when he tries to take him down to the base at once and starts gagging two seconds in. “Abracadabra?” he repeats, caught between incredulity, amusement and fondness.

 

Two doe eyes look up at him, and small crinkles appear at their corner as Jungkook attempts to smile at him. He mumbles something around his dick that vaguely sounds like another abracadabra. Namjoon barks out a laughter and threads his fingers in Jungkook’s hair, filled with an overwhelming need to cradle his boyfriend into his arms.

 

He keeps his hands on Jungkook’s head, grip tightening when his tongue licks at the head of his dick to poke the slit. Jungkook is wet and warm, expertly sucking him and flattening his tongue under the shaft to make him shudder. Namjoon tries to slow him down, holding onto his jaw, lips parted to let out his shallow breaths. He’s already too hot, already sweating more than the situation calls for, confined in clothes too thick to be bearable, yet that warmth paired with Jungkook’s mouth feels like a cosy cocoon, a pleasant bubble he’s wrapping himself in. Flames sprouts from the bed of ashes that is his body whenever Jungkook takes more of his cock in, and pleasure spreads through his veins like a deadly virus.

 

He’s leaning heavily against the wall, back bowed and head hung low because he’s too tired to hold himself straight and he doesn’t want to stop watching Jungkook. Jungkook puts everything into what he's doing and this is no exception. Jungkook is focused, observing his face from under his bangs and it's embarrassing but Namjoon feels brave under those loving eyes, feels lustful watching the growing flush on Jungkook’s cheeks. He watches Jungkook through heavy-lidded eyes, his wide nose tickling his pubes, his pink lips stretching around his girth, his galaxy eyes sucking him into their depth. Namjoon does his best to keep his breathing under control, weak, scarce moans echoing in the back of his throat.

 

The black scarf falls heavily against him, framing the base of his dick. It ends up sticking to Jungkook’s lips when he takes him down to the base, and he pulls back indignantly, spluttering.

 

Bad witch ,” Jungkook says, scolding his clothes.

 

“Wait, here,” Namjoon grabs the flaps of the scarf with both of his hands, pulling them apart so Jungkook can safely go about sucking his dick.

 

Good witch,” he says approvingly. “Ah wait, I should--” Jungkook gets up and sprints to the bathroom. Namjoon hears the tap water running for several seconds before he reappears, a bottle of lube in his newly washed hands.

 

Good boy,” Namjoon says when Jungkook comes back to him, and he grins at the blush spreading down his neck. “You know, it actually counts as another disappearing act,” he says as Jungkook kneels back at his feet. “Maybe that’s what gay sex is about – magic,” he muses, watching Jungkook squirt lube onto his fingers and rubbing them together. He glances up questioningly and Namjoon goes on. “Magic relies on diversion.

 

Jungkook puts a hand on his hip and reaches behind him. He feels a sticky finger rub over his rim, spreading the wet substance along his crack. Jungkook puts his lips on his cock again, kissing along the shaft and Namjoon shudders.

 

Distraction,” he continues. “Show the audience something-- uh, something so they won’t notice you doing something else.” Jungkook laps at his cock and a finger easily slips inside him. He tries to spread his thighs a bit wider to accommodate it but his pants are stuck around his knees. He can’t move his legs, and considering he’s busy keeping his clothes out of Jungkook’s face, he can’t move any of his limbs at the moment.

 

“It’s- hm a bit of the same. You suck me off so I don’t feel it when you- ah- you try to put it in.”

 

Jungkook frowns, sucking on the tip of his cock and god, Namjoon feels really, really hot. Jungkook wiggles his index around and finds his prostate easily, knows Namjoon’s body way too well at this point. What comforts Namjoon is that he knows Jungkook's body just as much.

 

“What I uh mean to say is,” he finds himself leaning more heavily against the wall, stops talking when his breath hitches, groaning when Jungkook’s places his thumb on the patch of skin between his balls and ass. “I meant-- you're a wizard harry.” He closes his eyes for a brief second and when he opens them again, Jungkook is off his dick and laughing, all teeth and nose.

 

“Hyung, you're really bad at dirty talk!” he exclaims, looks quite content to be there on his knees fingering him. “You could just say it feels good.” He applies more pressure on his taint and Namjoon mutters fuck, clenching around Jungkook’s finger.

 

“You’re good,” he moans. “Good, baby.”

 

Jungkook’s laughter stops and his ears flush bright. He guides his cock back into his mouth, swallowing him down to the base while his finger rubs against his prostate.

 

What Namjoon doesn't point is that this wasn't supposed to be dirty talk – those were random thoughts he hoped would make Jungkook laugh, feels happy that they did. He doesn't think Jungkook could handle dirty talk. He tries to imagine telling Jungkook what do to him, how to have him and how to take him, imagines Jungkook red and stuttering and he feels dizzy with want.

 

He feels weak. He tries to part his legs wider but remembers too late the pants stuck around his knees. He finds himself stumbling, letting go of his clothes to grab at Jungkook’s hair to catch himself, watches the black scarf cover Jungkook’s head for a second before he pulls back to steady him.

 

“The pants,” Namjoon rasps, “You gotta take them off.”

 

“The shoes too?” Jungkook asks, looks saddened at the prospect.

 

“If you don’t I might fall on your face- no don’t look at me like that, this isn’t a sexy fall, this is a ‘I’ll break your jaw’ kinda fall.”

 

“That would still be a sexy fall,” Jungkook mutters, but he withdraws his finger nonetheless and Namjoon mourns its loss. He winds his hands into the scarf again, lifting it out of the way as Jungkook sets on unzipping his boots. Namjoon lifts his feet one by one, letting him take them off and puts them aside carefully, along with his socks.

 

He attacks the leather pants next, sliding it down his calves and throwing it to the side with his boots. Fresh air cools down his skin and that’s enough for Namjoon to sigh with contentment. He wriggles his toes and spreads his legs a bit, feels the black scarf tickle his thighs where he’s holding it up. He’s still overly warm on the top half, layered by his own sweat, but he feels significantly less trapped now.

 

“Your feet stink,” Jungkook says.

 

“You’re so romantic,” Namjoon deadpans, and Jungkook grins up at him, looks very proud of himself. “Is that your idea of what dirty talk is?”

 

“I love you even if you have stinky feet.”

 

“Thank you, this goes straight to my heart and my stinky toes.”

 

Jungkook’s grin remains on his face as he nuzzles against his cock, fingers finding their way back to his ass. He kisses down to his balls, placing a few wet kisses there. Two fingers probe up at him and Jungkook slides them in while he licks fat stripes up his shaft. He puts his thumb back on his taint and Namjoon feels faint again, too light-headed to hold himself up. Jungkook’s hand on his thigh steadies him, grounds him and keeps him standing.

 

“God,” Namjoon breathes out, lets his jaw hang open. “Baby,” he says, moans despite himself when Jungkook swallows him back in while massaging his prostate. Jungkook’s eyelids look heavy but he does his best to look up at him, looks dreamy and horny, pupils blown wide. He’s too good at this, too confident when it comes to giving blowjobs, and it’s such a stark contrast to how messy he becomes when it’s his own dick on the line. He takes all the care in the world to make sure he pleases Namjoon and he loses himself so quickly when Namjoon tries to pleasure him back.

 

He gags a bit around him but he barely pulls back, taking him whole into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks to make him shudder, curl into himself. Namjoon fists his hands in the black fabric of his scarf and it frames Jungkook’s face, an ominous black drape about to close on him. A third finger slides in alongside the first two, presses down inside him right where he needs that itch scratched, makes him clench down and curse under his breath.

 

“Ok that’s-” Jungkook twists his fingers and presses down on his taint. “Ah fuck,” Namjoon moans, deep and drawn-out. “Ok,” he repeats. “You can- easy. Easy, I’ll come like that.”

 

Jungkook takes a second more before he willingly pulls back, wet noises as he lets his dick pop out of his mouth, saliva dripping down his chin. He removes his fingers and Namjoon clenches down on nothing. He feels faint, light, like he’d fall if the wall wasn’t there to hold his weight.

 

He feels too hot again, flames licking at his skin from the inside.

 

“I take it I can’t take the shirt off yet?” He asks, dropping the black scarf and trying to smooth the wrinkles with his shaky hands.

 

“Please?” Jungkook pleads. He carefully lets go of Namjoon, making sure he’s steady on his legs before he withdraws his hand from his thigh. When he gets up, he’s the one standing on unsteady legs. He makes a face as blood rushes down his calves but the grimace quickly transforms into a smile.

 

Namjoon makes to move to the bed only to be stopped by Jungkook. He pushes gently on his chest to keep him against the wall, and Namjoon watches Jungkook curiously as he tips his head up and kisses his mouth, tasting like precum and salty sweat, which isn’t Namjoon’s favorite taste but he’ll forgive that for the feeling of Jungkook’s tongue sweeping against his.

 

Jungkook retrieves the lube from his sweatpants and looks at him expectantly.

 

Namjoon looks him up and down. “You want to do it against the wall,” he states, proved right when Jungkook nods like an over excited puppy.

 

“I’ll carry you!”

 

“That’s even worse,” Namjoon drops his head against the wall and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “That’s an accident waiting to happen.”

 

“So we can’t?” Jungkook looks saddened.

 

“I didn’t say we can’t,” he says. He yanks Jungkook’s sweatpants under his ass and snatches the lube from his hands, pouring what’s left of it on his hard cock. Jungkook flinches from the coldness and moans, bucking up into his touch when he reaches down to stroke him a few times. “I’m just saying it’s going to end terribly.”

 

“I thought relationships were based on trust hyung,” Jungkook says. He reaches for his hips and Namjoon diligently lifts a leg, hooking it around Jungkook’s waist. “You don’t trust me”

 

“You’re gonna have trouble reaching like that,” he comments, tries to spread his legs but there’s only so much he can do standing like that. Jungkook guides his cock to his entrance and Namjoon feels its blunt head slide against his balls, down his taint to find his puckered hole. “I trust you but trust won’t stop us from- ah- uh,” Namjoon is cut off by the tip of Jungkook's dick breaching him, and he has to close his eyes for a second.

 

Jungkook steps even closer, hiking his leg higher up so he can push more of himself in. He breathes out, shaky and high-pitched against Namjoon’s collarbone. He's a bit sweaty, enough for his skin to glow. Namjoon, on the other hand, is soaked. His shirt sticks to his skin and he feels like an egg thrown in boiling water, trapped in cumbersome clothes and a layer of his own sweat but he wraps his arms around Jungkook’s shoulder anyway, tries bringing him closer, seeking his warmth out.

 

They stay still for a second, just breathing into each other, the weight of Jungkook’s hand against his thigh, the tip of his cock brushing against Jungkook’s abs and Jungkook inside him, hot and alive.

 

Jungkook rolls his hips, pushing deeper inside him and Namjoon curls around him, letting out a soft ah. He rests his head on Jungkook’s shoulder, clamps down, and it feels good but not as good as it could. He wants Jungkook closer and he wants him deeper.

 

“I can’t reach all the way,” Jungkook complains, mouth so close to Namjoon’s ear his voice echoes loudly against his ear-drums.

 

“Told you,” Namjoon mumbles back. It doesn’t stop them, doesn’t stop Jungkook from undulating against him and it doesn’t stop Namjoon from kissing his neck, pressing his fingers into Jungkook’s shoulder blades. He shudders against Jungkook all the same, finds his toes curling when Jungkook brushes past his prostate, doesn’t quite hit it because the angle is bad.

 

Jungkook lets out a frustrated sigh, breath puffing against Namjoon’s sweaty skin.

 

“I told y-”

 

“Can I carry you?” Jungkook asks, draws back to look at him. “Like, for real.”

 

He looks dead serious about it, random strands of hair stuck to his foregead and bottom lip swollen and set in a fierce pout. Namjoon tries to let him down gently.

 

“You’re pretty strong,” he says, raking his fingers through Jungkook’s hair comfortingly. “But you’re not that strong.”

 

A frown mars Jungkook’s face.

 

“We’re going to fall,” Namjoon says.

 

“But what if we don’t?” Jungkook stares hopefully up at him. Please?”

 

He’s all doe eyes and flushed skin and Namjoon is a weak, weak man.

 

“Are you even sure you can lift me?” he tries. “I’m heavy.”

 

“No offense hyung, but you’re a cheese stick.”

 

“You told me I was becoming beefy.”

 

“A beefy cheese stick.”

 

“Now that's just mean.” Namjoon lets his head thud against the wall behind him and sighs. “Ok fine.”

 

Jungkook breaks into a smile and Namjoon levels him with a stern stare, but it quickly morphs into a smile of his own, lips stretching thin until Jungkook leans in to kiss his dimples.

 

“When we ultimately fall, I’m blaming you for our injuries,” he warns, probably not very convincing considering he's smiling and he knows full well he would sooner die than let Jungkook take the blame for anything.

 

“Won’t fall.”

 

Namjoon shakes his head but moves all the same, curling around Jungkook’s frame again, holding onto his shoulders.

 

Jungkook’s hands make their way around his thighs, prompting Namjoon to hop up. Jungkook catches him easily, hold secure if a bit tight. He presses Namjoon against the wall, flushing their chests together, and the motion pushes his cock inside his ass, coaxing a deep moan out of Namjoon.

 

This is definitely better.

 

“The clothes,” Namjoon mumbles once they're both done sighing contentedly, reaching down to tug the fabric stuck between his legs to let it flow freely. The movement creates a slight breeze, and shivers run up his thighs, before the scarf drapes heavily against him again, and he’s back to overheating. “You still can’t reach all the way.”

 

“I know just-- hold onto me, I’m gonna--”

 

Namjoon diligently wraps his legs around Jungkook’s waist, a spike of apprehension in his belly when Jungkook lets him go. The wall bears his weight while Jungkook repositions his hands so they slip between their bodies to hold onto his thighs again. When his grip is secure, Jungkook pushes his legs up, force them to spread to accommodate his body and he finally slides all the way in.

 

Jungkook moans deeply and Namjoon buries his face into his neck. F-fuck,” he stutters. Jungkook thrusts up a few times, fingers digging nastily into his skin as he pushes his legs higher to bury into him. His chest draws back and Namjoon hesitantly uncurls from around him, leaning against the wall to watch.

 

Jungkook’s arms look bigger than usual, thick veins showing through the skin, and the sight does nothing to contain the flames cooking Namjoon alive. He’s melting, arousal burning low and leaving him aching. His brain feels fuzzy and he feels light because his small, cute, adorable younger boyfriend is carrying him and fucking him against a wall.

 

“We are so going to fall,” he laments. He wraps a hand around Jungkook's bicep, squeezes tentatively to feel the muscle stiffen.

 

Jungkook frowns and bucks up into him, makes him shudder and bite back a moan. “Don’t say that Joonie.”

 

“Joonie,” Namjoon repeats, pretends the nickname doesn’t bring a smile to his face. Jungkook really only does it when he’s fucking Namjoon, when he thinks Namjoon is too gone and he’ll get away with it. Namjoon would let him get away with it no matter the circumstances but he doesn’t tell him that yet. “You’re cute.”

 

“Even now?” Jungkook asks, tilts his head. They’re eye-level and Namjoon takes advantage of that position to lean in and press a series of small kisses on the upturn of Jungkook’s lips.

 

“You’re always cute.” He says. “Really, really cute- ah!

 

Jungkook’s face is pink from exertion and embarrassment. He moves slowly, without a rhythm, jerking both their bodies with powerful thrusts. Parts of Namjoon’s scarf sticks to his skin but the long ends flutter around them.

 

Jungkook’s mouth parts to lets out a breathless moan and his brows furrow.

 

“I’m carrying you a-and you’re still calling me cute.”

 

“Do you want me to- uh shit- to stop calling you cute?”

 

Jungkook’s eyes grow bigger, confused and apprehensive. “I didn’t say that.”

 

Namjoon smiles, straightening his back and tilting his head to grin down at Jungkook. “You’re so cute,” he repeats. “And handsome. And this is-” he squeezes Jungkook’s biceps, clenches around Jungkook's cock and gasps out, “This is very hot.”

 

This seems to do the trick, because a pleased look graces Jungkook’s features. His eyes sparkle and his lashes shine with sweat and he’s got a pretty flush over his cheeks.

 

Jungkook is cute, but he’s also breathtakingly gorgeous, powerful and vulnerable and beautiful. His breathing is erratic as he struggles to keep them standing. His movements are shaky and he jostles Namjoon’s body, doesn’t quite manage to hit his prostate every time he pushes in but Namjoon is gone anyway. He chokes on his moans when Jungkook’s cock does reach his prostate, pleasure shouting straight to his cock and setting his skin ablaze. He pets Jungkook’s head and leans back against the wall, lets himself be fucked, his cock aching between their two bodies. He doesn’t stroke himself, doesn’t dare let go of Jungkook, and he’s fine with the pleasure that comes from waiting, from letting Jungkook’s dick stretch him and fill him up.

 

He doesn’t want to leak on his fine black shirt anyway so he touches Jungkook instead, ruffles his hair, squeezes his arms, pinches his nipples. This startles a strangled moan out of Jungkook and he stops immediately, pressing Namjoon harder against the wall so he can rest for a second. This pushes the whole length of his cock in, hot and throbbing inside him. Namjoon’s body protests, hips rolling on their own so he can keep the friction going. He needs it to move, needs it to scratch the itch inside his ass and make him lose his mind.

 

“Stop, wait-” Jungkook whines in a strained voice, and Namjoon immediately wills his body to still. He pants soundlessly against Jungkook’s forehead, waits for him to regain his footing and look up.

 

“Too much?” he asks. Jungkook nods. His ass is tingling, urging him to fuck himself back on Jungkook’s cock but Namjoon knows better.

 

He moves his hands on the side of Jungkook’s neck, wipes the sweat off his collarbones. “What can I do that won’t distract you?”

 

“Hair,” Jungkook says, tries to sound nonchalant but there’s an edge to his voice that makes it sound like he's begging. “It’s nice when you--” his eyelids flutter shut for a second when Namjoon’s sweaty hands drift to his hair, pushing his bangs away from his face. “Nice,” he repeats.

 

He presses a palm against Jungkook's cheek, the pads of his fingers rubbing soothingly at the sides of his head. Jungkook nuzzles into his touch, closing his eyes and pressing his face into his palm, and slowly, he resumes moving inside him, drawing back minutely before pushing in. Namjoon shudders and moans, clenches down and tenses up, caressing Jungkook's hair as softly, as reverently as he can, pressing a kiss in the crease between his brows and exhaling deeply against his forehead.

 

He’s still too hot, and keeping his voice in is tiring, but moaning is tiring too. Jungkook's movement are rough, his hold on him is rough, he's pinning Namjoon there and fucking him and Namjoon doesn't want it to stop but he knows they won't last. His breath hitches and he gasps voicelessly, parts his lips to pant against Jungkook’s forehead. The fabric of his shirt is completely wet by now, drenched in his sweat, sticking to his skin like a wet curtain shower.

 

Jungkook seems exhausted, lodged deep inside his ass, rolling his hips to chase his own pleasure, now a constant pressure against Namjoon’s prostate that sends his brain in a frenzy. Jungkook takes a step forward, trying to burrow deeper inside him, to erase the non-existent distance between their bodies and Namjoon lets out a strangled moan, represses a series of curses. His insides twist, melt, wither and bloom from how hard Jungkook is pressing inside him, a constant, increasing buzz that leaves him breathless. Jungkook’s grip on him shifts, palms moving up, nails digging into his skin.

 

Fuck, baby-” Namjoon tries to move into it but he can’t move, can’t do much more than be there and take it, powerless and vulnerable. Jungkook goes slow, unable to do much more than roll his hips at this point. It's both underwhelming and overwhelming, too much and not enough, Jungkook's cock pressed against his prostate and rubbing it at a teasing pace. Namjoon feels too stimulated and it renders him useless.

 

He clutches Jungkook’s hair in his hand, sighs and moans softly, focuses on not scratching Jungkook’s skin. Jungkook’s moaning and panting in the crook of his neck, breathing hot against the collar of his shirt.

 

“Shit,” Jungkook groans. He presses him even harder against the wall, hands tight and painful on his skin, forcing his legs wider apart, stretching him until it burns.

 

Jungkook's breathing is erratic and his back is tense, veins showing in his arms. He fucks him as hard as he can in their current position, looking for his release, trying to draw Namjoon on his dick even though he’s already fully seated on it.

 

“Are you close baby?” Namjoon asks, voice deep and hoarse. He caresses the soft skin of Jungkook’s earlobe and bites his lips. His dick is squished between their bodies, tip sliding deliciously against the ridges of Jungkook’s abs, spreading precum over his skin. He tugs on the sensitive hair at the base of Jungkook's neck and he lifts his head, brows furrowed and sweat dripping from his bangs, and eyes zeroeing in on Namjoon's lips.

 

Namjoon leans in and sighs contentedly into his mouth. “That’s good baby, that’s so good,” he encourages, feels Jungkook twitch inside him.

 

“Don’t-” he says, whimpers, before grunting and digging his fingers into the skin of his thighs as he tries to drag him down his cock, shoves himself deeper inside, despite his hips being flush against his ass. “Don't call me- I can't-” Namjoon clenches down around Jungkook’s cock, stretched wide and filled to the brim, feeling pleasure coiling in his stomach, feeling his skin tingle. Jungkook is so close it’s suffocating and Namjoon's shirt sticks to him like a second skin, cumbersome and uncomfortable but it’s exactly the kind of unpleasant that is pleasurable.

 

Jungkook looks exhausted, arms shaking and muscles bulging, face scrunched up in effort and pleasure and Namjoon doesn't want to risk it.

 

“Ok,” he says, “Ok ok o- oh, ok,” he repeats mindlessly, swallows back all the loving babies threatening to spill past his lips.

 

It becomes increasingly dirtier and rougher and Namjoon is starting to lose feelings in his thighs because Jungkook holds him too tightly. He wants to move his hips into it, but he's just clamping down on Jungkook's cock, feeling his rim drag along his shaft as Jungkook rolls his hips. Namjoon watches him through half-lidded eyes, bites back the encouragement he wants to voice not to fluster him, smothers him with his stare instead, delights in the way Jungkook’s arms bulge, the way his jaw clenches, the way his big doe eyes focus on details of his face before blanking.

 

He doesn’t know how long it lasts – wouldn’t have bet anything on it lasting but Jungkook doesn’t drop him. He’s exhausted but he’s holding up, incredible and beautiful and wonderful and there’s intense fondness and overwhelming affection mixing with the lustful haze fogging Namjoon’s brain. Jungkook tries hard, always tries his best and does his best and is the best at everything he does, even when it comes to making Namjoon lose his mind. He wants to tell him he’s good, how good he is, how wonderful, wants to call him baby and press a hundred kisses against his cheeks but instead he lets his eyes roll back and chokes on a moan not to say anything that would doom the both of them.

 

“Are you close?” he asks again, and this time Jungkook nods, clenching his eyes shut for a second.

 

Jungkook’s movements get even jerkier, like each thrusts is an effort in and of itself. He bucks up into him, balls deep everytime while Namjoon pants and curses.

 

“Joonie,” he moans, burying his face into his neck again, almost pitiful but infinitely endearing. He clenches on Jungkook’s cock purposefully, squeezing hard, and Jungkook is gone. He bites on his shirt, muffled moans dying into his clothes, cock throbbing as he shoots inside him. It’s hot, and Namjoon feels light-headed, and then he feels light, and then he’s dropping.

 

Literally dropping.

 

Jungkook’s arms and legs give out and they both tumble to the ground, heads knocking together. Namjoon falls on Jungkook’s cock, slamming down heavily on it, making the both of them whimper.

 

He keeps his eyes shut for several seconds while he groans in pain. His heels hurt from where they’d crashed harshly against the floor and his ass feels sore. Jungkook is still whimpering beneath him.

 

He opens his eyes slowly, finds Jungkook’s face, eyes closed and scrunched up in pain. They’d parted a good feet from the wall while falling, and Jungkook is now sprawled under him. Namjoon is sitting on his cock, legs splayed on either sides of his torso. The black tails of his clothes fell around them, circling them like a halo.

 

“You’re ok?” Namjoon asks, voice raspy. Jungkook nods, eyes closed as he rubs his sore forehead. He waits until he opens his eyes to look at him to add, “I told you.”

 

Jungkook looks put out. “We almost didn’t fall.” He shifts, trying to get comfortable on the ground. He eyes Namjoon, gaze trailing down his shirt and along his thighs. He support himself on his elbows, arms visibly shaking.

 

Namjoon makes to get up, but Jungkook stops him with a hand on his knee.

 

“You’re still hard,” he says.

 

“You still want to help with that?” Namjoon asks and Jungkook nods, smiles, quick to wrap his hand around his cock, despite the tremors in his muscles.

 

His cock hasn't been touched since Jungkook sucked him and Namjoon can’t help the deep, drawn-out moan echoing in the back of his throat. Jungkook is still snug inside him, still hard for now but oversensitive, judging from the way he whimpers when Namjoon squeezes him.

 

He strokes him diligently, hold too tight like he can't feel his strength anymore. Jungkook watches him avidly, drinking him in with wide eyes, gaze raking down the length of his body, from the tip of his cock up to the suffocating collar of his back shirt, ending up on his parted lips. “Pretty,” Jungkook mumbles, absent-minded, hopefully too focused on his lips to notice the blush spreading down Namjoon's neck.

 

Jungkook moves his hand fast, palm sliding easily with precum and an overabundance of sweat. His hold is shaky and tight, muscle suffering from overexertion but he tries his best. Namjoon knows he’s trying to make him moan, flicking his wrist and squeezing under the head to make him twitch, but he's the one whimpering when Namjoon clenches down on the softening dick inside him.

 

Uh, Kookie. We--- fuck, we can’t get semen on the shirt, ah.”Jungkook nods, angles his cock towards his own body. He jerks him off faster, dirty fapping sounds mixing with Namjoon’s heavy breathing and restrained moans.

 

“Fuck,” he kicks his legs and grasps at Jungkook’s thighs below him. “I’m--” his mouth opening to gasp as he comes, several whites ropes that splay directly on Jungkook’s chest and on his face, dirty drops on his cheek and on his bottom lip. “--coming,” he finishes but it’s too late.

 

His head is blank for a second, and he enjoys the feeling that follows, the bliss and peacefulness enveloping him, soft like cotton. He's tired and overheated but he feels loose and relaxed and content at last.

 

He pants, chest heaving, seated on Jungkook’s soft cock for a few more seconds. He stays there until he feels Jungkook twitch under him, hips twisting with the need to pull his oversensitive cock out. He doesn’t say anything though, keeps gazing at Namjoon’s form until Namjoon takes pity on him and stands up.

 

His legs are wobbly and he feels faint. The black scarf fall back down around him and Jungkook keeps him steady with a hand on hiscalf.

 

Something wet and sticky leaks from his hole when he breathes out and it drips down his taint and god letting Jungkook come inside is kinda hot but the sensation that comes afterward is as unsexy as can be. He huffs, feels more semen drip out when he exhales.

 

There’s a squeak and his gaze snaps down to Jungkook.

 

Jungkook’s eyes are trailed on his thighs, where the cum and lube is most likely leaving a sticky trail behind. Namjoon is standing inches away from his face, looming over him. More semen pumps out of him every time he breathes out and he decides he has enough.

 

“Wash your face,” he says, fonder than he intended to.

 

His ears feel a bit hot under Jungkook’s gaze and he looks away. He steps over his head, earns a small wow when he walks over him as he makes his way to the bathroom, the black scarf flowing at his sides.

 

He sits down on the toilet, inspecting his clothes. He’s pleased to see that no dirty body fluids got on his shirt besides sweat, but he’d already been sweating the whole evening so that doesn’t make much difference. He drops the fabric, lets it fall down at his sides before he spreads his legs, sneaking a hand past his soft cock, between his thighs.

 

He presses two fingers inside himself and frowns at the feeling, but gets on with his task nonetheless. He moves his fingers around, trying to fish as much semen out as he can. It’s unpleasant everytime he brushes against his sensitive prostate but it’s better than dry semen and lube leaking out of his ass during the night.

 

When he’s satisfied with his job, he looks up, only to find Jungkook standing there, half naked and absent, dazed as he stares at Namjoon’s fingers pushed inside his ass. Namjoon pulls them out, knows they’re dripping with semen and Jungkook’s face flushes even more, mouth parting in a oh.

 

“This is really not supposed to be sexy,” Namjoon tells him. Jungkook’s mouth snaps shut, and he hastily looks up at his face like a small animal caught in the headlights.

 

“Sexy?” He stutters. “Who said anything about it being sexy? It’s gross hyung,” he says, in a strangled, high-pitched voice that doesn’t convince either of them. His eyes flash back down to Namjoon’s dirty fingers and he repeats, “Gross.”

 

“Wash you face,” Namjoon says fondly.

 

“Yes sir,” Jungkook promptly turns around, clumsily opening the tap water and Namjoon gets to see that his blush spreads from this cute ears all the way down his ass.

 

He smiles to himself, wiping his sticky fingers on toilet paper and thinking to himself that really, there’s nothing grosser than being in love.