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Kim Namjoon is so, so beautiful, and somehow, it’s like he doesn’t even realize it?
Okay, so he’s not exactly suffering from low self-esteem. On stage, when that switch flicks, the fire and poise and aggression that animates him, there’s no way that’s fake. He knows he can command a crowd with his body and his voice.
But that’s not really enough. He’s grown up so much since Seokjin has known him, physically, mentally, emotionally. He knows his worth, his intellect, his kindness, his insight as a leader. But he still doesn’t --
He’d probably never say he was handsome. Definitely not sexy, not in earnest. Of course, he knows he doesn’t even need to be, knows that his talent and charisma and magnetism would do the job for him just fine even if he had the physical appeal of a moldy daikon.
So it’s not like he’s down on himself. He actually has his priorities in order, knows that he’s good and kind and smart and strong, and doesn’t obsess over his looks one way or the other.
But… he should. Because if he did, then maybe Seokjin could stop.
He just -- someone needs to make him realize. What he’s doing. To people. To Seokjin, specifically. This needs to stop.
He deserves to be appreciated. Of course, plenty of people appreciate him, but most can’t really give him what he deserves, because most people don’t really know him. He’s got the love of fans, but they can really only love the version of him that he allows them to see and hear. Girls in other idol groups can relate a little better, and they’ve never seemed to have any trouble appreciating him when they do get the opportunity to interact with each other like normal human beings, but those chances can be few and far between. Only the group members really know each other, because they’re the ones who have been through everything, done everything together, truly know each other.
And who among them could really appreciate him like he deserves to be appreciated? The maknae look up to him like an older brother, and he deserves that love and trust too, but it’s not what Seokjin wants to give him. Who, then? He imagines Namjoon in Yoongi’s arms, Hobi running his fingers through his hair. He cringes.
No, it can’t be anyone else. He won’t let them.
They’re around each other pretty much all the time. This insistent, relentless want whenever Namjoon is around (or isn’t around but Seokjin happens to think about him), he’s felt it for some time, so long that he’s actually more or less become used to it, but now that he’s actually admitted to himself the extent of his desires, it becomes almost impossible to focus on anything else. It’s overpowering, pounding inside him, a spot too tender to touch.
Sometimes he tries to convince himself he’s not alone in his feelings. Namjoon would rather set himself on fire than do anything to make Seokjin, or anyone, think that he wants something more than what’s freely offered. So he’s reduced to analyzing his every movement and expression, wondering if maybe his hands linger on Seokjin’s shoulder for an extra moment when he pats his back, if maybe he’s sitting close enough beside him on the couch for their thighs to touch on purpose. He reminds himself they’re not teenagers.
He tries to resign himself to simply suffering from a perpetual background ache for the rest of his natural life. And if this was just about him, he could probably do it. But every time he sees Namjoon in a moment of silence, looking out the window or at his hands in his lap, it all comes roaring back and he wants to lunge at him so fast and crush him in his arms and tell him he’s the most amazing living creature on earth, even though he was probably just sitting there thinking about what he wanted for dinner.
--
If he can’t give him physical affection, the least he can do is give him food. It’s well known he can’t cook for himself, so whenever the occasion presents itself, Seokjin goes all out in the kitchen, acts like it’s nothing, he was already making dinner for himself anyway so it’s no big deal to make extra. Of course he’ll do it for anyone who’s around, but there’s something better about it on those incredibly rare occasions when they’re alone, like tonight when everyone else is either staying late in the studio or out of town visiting family. They don’t even bother with the dining table, Seokjin just comes into the living room with two plates and then goes back for two bottles of beer and plops down on the couch beside Namjoon. He’s immersed in a book and it takes him a second to realize, but when he gets a whiff of grilled meat his head perks up and he smiles.
“Ah, thanks hyung. It’s delicious.”
“You haven’t even tasted it yet, dummy.”
“Yeah, but it’s always delicious when you make it.” He makes a cute face, scrunching his nose, and Seokjin considers jumping out the window.
“Okay then, do you want me to show you how, so you can make it for yourself?”
“Nope.” He loads a huge bite onto his chopsticks and stuffs it into his mouth. Seokjin swigs from his bottle.
They don’t talk much while they eat, but Namjoon makes noises of approval every now and then, and it satisfies him to know that he’s done something to please him. He’s just finishing his plate and getting ready to take it to the kitchen when Namjoon surprises him by swinging his legs up onto the couch and resting them over his empty lap. Seokjin tries to hide his surprise, and luckily Namjoon doesn’t look at him too closely because he’s busy taking off his hat and tossing it in the general direction of the table, ruffling his fingers through his hair and making it stand up wildly.
He considers complaining that he’s got to get up and put the dishes away, but instead he puts his plate down on the side table and takes Namjoon’s, stacking it on top. Namjoon is rubbing his face, hard.
“Something wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, no… no. I’m just tired… I’m so damn tired.”
Seokjin tries to find something to do with his hands besides rest them on Namjoon’s legs, and fails.
“Maybe you should go to bed.”
“Ah, I will eventually,” he says, wiggling down into the couch cushions in a way that clearly states “but I’m staying here right now.” They’re silent for a moment, Namjoon seemingly lost in his own thoughts, staring at the ceiling, and Seokjin counting floor tiles to keep himself from doing anything weird.
“I’m sore too,” he finally says.
“Hmm?”
“From dance practice. Yesterday. I’m still sore. Are you?”
Seokjin twists his neck experimentally, his shoulders and arms. “Not really. Maybe my legs, a little.” He panics momentarily, wondering if Namjoon is about to ask for a massage, but he just continues to stare at the ceiling, rubbing his hand back and forth over his scalp, making even more of a mess of his hair.
“Ugh. It’s always me,” he mutters.
Shit, Seokjin thinks. He clears his throat.
“It’s not just you,” he says carefully. “You know I’m in extra practice just as much as you are.”
“Yeah, I know, and you never complain about it. I’m just being an asshole.”
“God, Namjoon, no. I mean, you care a lot, and that’s why you get so irritated when you can’t be perfect. But you are perfect -- I mean -- as leader -- you’re -- you’re perfect to be the leader,” Seokjin finishes lamely, absolutely kicking himself.
Namjoon doesn’t react right away, he just looks at Seokjin pensively, hands behind his head, then sits up, swinging his feet back onto the floor. “One sec.” He stands and walks toward the door, and Seokjin has a brief moment where his life flashes before his eyes, thinking Namjoon is leaving because he’s creeped out. But he just takes the empty plates and bottles to the kitchen, and comes back with two fresh beers, handing one to Seokjin.
“Thanks.”
Namjoon clinks their bottles together and sits back down beside Seokjin, upright this time. Seokjin’s a little disappointed. They sip in silence for a few moments.
Maybe he’s getting the slightest bit tipsy or maybe he’s just tired or who knows why, but Namjoon starts to leans over against Seokjin, almost (but not quite) resting his head on his shoulder.
“Whatever. It’s fine,” he says, as if they’re in the middle of a conversation. “It’s fine. I’m overthinking things. I just… god, I get so mad at myself….” He looks at Seokjin with these huge eyes. “Sorry! Sorry. I’m dumb.”
Seokjin takes a deep breath. He wants to make every bad feeling and negative thought fly out of his brain, he wants to, the things he wants to do….
Instead of any of the things he really wants to do, he sighs and sets his beer down on the table, turning to look straight at Namjoon.
“You know -- I can’t tell you how to think, or how to feel about yourself,” he says, as levelly as possible. Namjoon winces, like, I don’t want to dump all my problems on you. Seokjin knows that’s what he’s thinking, and before he can even open his mouth to say it, he continues.
“And I can tell you how every single person you know, and probably every single person I know, thinks the sun shines out of your ass, but that’s not really going to do you any good, because I’m just telling you what other people think. But, uh.” He pauses, not really sure where he’s going, knowing there’s a truth inside somewhere that Namjoon needs to know but not sure exactly what it is or how to get it out. Also, Namjoon’s eyes are still huge and beautiful and making it hard to think.
“So I can’t tell you how to feel, and there’s not really any point in telling you what other people feel. But I can tell you how I feel?” It comes out in an uncertain squeak, and he clears his throat and frowns, trying to sound as if he’s confident. Namjoon looks away, lowering his head, and Seokjin looks at the nape of his neck as he continues.
“I feel… like… you’ve become the most important person. To me.”
Somehow that didn’t exactly make sense the way it did in his head, and Namjoon glances up curiously from under his bangs.
“I mean, you never had any reason to be mad at yourself, from the beginning,” Seokjin continues. He sees Namjoon start to protest, drawing in a breath as if he’s getting ready to recite a litany of failures and disappointments, and Seokjin has to fix him with a serious glare and raise a finger like a schoolteacher to make him keep his mouth shut.
“No. I mean it. If the person sitting here in front of me was dumbass teenage Rap Monster, I’d still tell him to love himself, because he’d still be you.” He nudges Namjoon until he sees a smile at the corner of his mouth. “And like… you’re the only you. But the you, that you are… god. Sorry, I sound dumb.”
“No… um, I mean, it’s okay, hyung, you’re fine. I’m sorry, I should never have said anything.” But Namjoon’s cheeks are turning a little bit pink, like he likes it, even though he’d never admit it in a million years. Seokjin takes courage from this.
“Joon-ah, sometimes you say one little thing to me, and I can’t get it out of my head for weeks. Some nothing little comment like how I should be sure to drink enough water or you like the way my fried rice tastes, and it’s like I’m hearing that on repeat in my mind over and over.”
“That’s you! You respect everybody. That’s part of why you’re… why everyone likes you.”
“Namjoon. Do you really think I’ve ever, once in my life, listened to something that Yoongi said to me? You think I’m dwelling on the fact that Hobi likes my bibimbap?”
Namjoon ducks his head again, and without even thinking about it, Seokjin takes his hand in both of his own. “So yeah, I could sit here and tell you about how much everyone respects you, relies on you, or how smart you are, tell you to think about all those awards we’ve won because of you. But you know all that stuff, and maybe you didn’t know this.”
Again, Namjoon looks up, and his face is absolutely red. He looks like he could cry, but instead a smile bursts onto his face, and Seokjin practically has to look away because it’s like looking at the sun. He’s still holding his hand. He should definitely shut his fat stupid mouth, but he doesn’t.
“Plus, I’m gonna lose my spot as visual if you don’t stop being so fucking gorgeous.”
He’s still holding his hand, and his arms move with absolutely no input from his brain to raise it and press it to his lips.
Well, shit. That’s it, I’m gonna have to retire and move to Siberia, he’s gonna freak out --
Namjoon doesn’t pull his hand back. He just sighs. In… shock? Horror? Disgust? Who sighs in disgust? Seokjin forces himself to meet Namjoon’s eyes, but in his disjointed state his eyes and hands and lips don’t coordinate, so he’s looking up at him while still pressing his lips to the tips of Namjoon’s fingers.
Namjoon’s bare-faced and tan from biking along the river, and he looks like something toasty and sweet that Seokjin wants to devour. And he’s smiling, and biting his lip, and when Seokjin meets his eyes he screws his own shut and makes a noise, a little “hyaa!” like a laugh and an exclamation of confusion combined with something, something….
Seokjin turns Namjoon’s hand palm up and presses another kiss to the soft inside of his wrist, and oh, wow, his pulse is fluttering hard there. He holds his lips to his hot skin for a moment, looks up into his face again and his eyes are still closed. Seokjin carefully pulls away.
“Sorry…” he says quietly, watching Namjoon’s face. He has to react.
He doesn’t open his eyes. He just breathes out, in the barest of whispers, “it’s okay… no, it’s okay….”
“I’ll stop.”
“Don’t….”
God. God, what?
Seokjin leans forward, touches his forehead to Namjoon’s, holds the nape of his neck with one hand and presses the other to his chest, just trying to get close to him, see if that’s really him, if this is really happening. Namjoon’s heart is absolutely racing, it feels like it’s banging against his rib cage under Seokjin’s hand, and it makes the tenderness roar up inside him like a powerful animal. He’s so excited by this. Seokjin’s lips and hands and nearness.
His voice trembles. “Namjoon… Joonie. This is okay?”
“Yeah… yeah, hyung, it’s okay.”
Seokjin leans close and, careful, careful, puts his mouth to Namjoon’s, barely touching Namjoon’s lips that are hot and silky against his own. There’s a long moment of stillness, and Seokjin prepares again for Namjoon to pull away from him, but instead he makes a tiny humming sound and tilts his head to better fit their lips together. Seokjin’s head spins.
The kiss is chaste but brimming with heat all at once. After a moment Seokjin is the one to pull back, so he can look at Namjoon’s face. He’s blushing and smiling.
“You are, you know,” he whispers. “Gorgeous. You’re so gorgeous.”
“Ahhh, stop.” Namjoon tries to raise his hands to cover his face, but Seokjin catches them.
“No, no, you can’t hide from me!” Seokjin can’t stop the laughter from bubbling out of him; seeing and feeling Namjoon react to him like this is filling him with a joy that he didn’t even think was possible. And through his blushes, Namjoon is laughing too.
“Ah… ah, hyung. What the hell? What’s happening?”
“I don’t know,” Seokjin says, trying to catch his breath. “Do you want to stop?”
“I… don’t know. I don’t think so. Do you?”
In answer, Seokjin kisses him again. This time Namjoon moves against him immediately, parting his lips to let Seokjin taste him, and he’s so sweet and hot. Seokjin can’t hold back a soft moan.
“Joon-ah… god, Namjoon.”
Seokjin's senses are filled, his scent, the way he tastes and feels, the sound of his breaths starting to come shallow and fast. He's so focused on Namjoon that it’s a shock when Namjoon suddenly grabs him by the waist and pulls Seokjin onto his lap, bringing him roughly back to himself when their bodies fit together and he feels it all over, from his toes to the roots of his hair.
Seokjin gasps, and Namjoon looks at him wonderingly, muttering almost to himself.
“Wow… wow. Jin-hyung, you’re so....” He shakes his head, like he doesn’t know what words to use, and Seokjin shakes his head.
“No, nope. I don’t want -- I want to look at you, I want to touch you. I don’t want to talk about me.” Seokjin brings his hand to run softly through Namjoon’s hair, and Namjoon leans into it. “You’re so incredibly beautiful. It’s actually upsetting how hot you are.” He pauses, wanting to be honest but also not wanting to ruin this. “Look, it’s not like I’ve been creeping on you for a really long time or anything, but this isn’t the first time I’ve wanted to do this, you know? I just never thought you’d be interested, and I’m sorry I just went for it out of nowhere like that, but you just seemed mad at yourself and I can’t stand to see you like that, Joonie, every time you say something bad about yourself I want to kiss you until you can’t even think any more --”
“Hyung.” Namjoon interrupts Seokjin’s run-together words, and now Seokjin feels his face turning hot with embarrassment. But Namjoon doesn’t even say anything, he just pulls Seokjin into another kiss, and this time the simmering heat between them is starting to come to the surface.
They pull apart and Namjoon leans his head back against the back of the couch, exposing the long, slender column of his throat, and Seokjin doesn’t think twice before putting his lips to it, kissing and sucking at him. Namjoon sighs with pleasure and Seokjin knows he’s not going to be stopping until Namjoon says so.
“Gorgeous, gorgeous,” he mumbles, and Namjoon has finally learned that he’s not going to be allowed to object. Seokjin’s lips return to his skin, going from the soft place below his ear to the space between his collarbones. His sharp, exquisite collarbones with the softest hollow between them that’s warm and smells like musky honey. Once again he feels Namjoon’s pulse fluttering there, because of him, because of what Seokjin’s doing to him, and he moans against his skin. He wants to consume him.
“Hyung… god, Seokjin,” Namjoon whispers.
“Beautiful. You’re so beautiful.” Seokjin’s clawing at the neck of Namjoon’s shirt, desperate to get to more of his skin but afraid to try pulling his shirt off entirely, not sure how far he wants to go. But Namjoon answers that for him by slipping out of the shirt himself, pulling it over his head and discarding it to join his hat somewhere on the floor. Of course Seokjin’s seen him take his shirt off before, but to be close to him like this, to be able to touch him as much as he wants, it’s overwhelming.
Seokjin maps it all with his lips and hands. His beautiful collarbones and the soft, tender skin there. The curves of his shoulders and chest, firm under his fingers as he wraps them around and squeezes at him gently -- the soft, sensitive nipples that go stiff under his mouth and hands and draw out such a sweet moan from Namjoon that Seokjin has to close his eyes a moment to keep from getting dizzy. The shape of his narrow waist; Seokjin wraps his hands around to feel the small of his back as Namjoon arches it up to bring their hips together.
Seokjin sits upright again to take him in. He’d imagined this when he let himself, but never thought he’d see it, Namjoon limp with pleasure under him, flushed and smiling shyly. He’s gently rolling his hips against Seokjin’s now, might not even realize he’s doing it, but it’s making them both even more breathless.
“Your lips. You have amazing lips,” Seokjin breathes, because it’s true, and he leans down to suck and bite at them, so full and soft.
“Ah… Jin, please,” Namjoon gasps into Seokjin’s mouth. Seokjin pulls back enough to look at his face, which looks utterly blissed out but also slightly unsure.
“What is it, Joon-ah? Should I stop?”
“No, no, I just… ahh, this feels so good. But I want to touch you. Please, let me touch you.”
Seokjin’s stomach flips at this and it’s not like he can refuse him. He hurriedly starts to unbutton his shirt. “I didn’t… didn’t know you’d want to…” he mumbles lamely, and Namjoon laughs a little.
“Hyung, do you think I went from zero to one thousand like this, instantly? I’ve thought about it too, you know.”
This stops Seokjin in his tracks. “You… what? This? With me?” His voice becomes an incredulous squeak.
Namjoon laughs and finishes unbuttoning Seokjin’s shirt, sliding it off his shoulders. “Yeah, with you. It’s like you said, it’s not like I’ve been creeping on you or anything. And I mean, I’ve never… you know.” He looks away for a second, shrugs, and Seokjin knows he means I’ve never done this with a guy.
Seokjin reels a little at this -- not that Namjoon hasn’t been with guys, necessarily, but the implication that he hadn’t even considered it until now, because of him. He’s not sure what to say that doesn’t give away how fully head-over-heels he feels at this moment, so he just gently takes Namjoon’s hands in his own, both of them trembling, and puts them on his waist. Namjoon closes his eyes and slowly starts to move his hands along Seokjin’s sides, around his waist, up and down his chest.
Seokjin leans in to kiss him again as he does it, and his hands slip up his neck to tangle in his hair. He pulls hard when Seokjin bites at his lower lip, making him gasp, and when he rocks his hips up, their eyes meet. Seokjin feels his breath catch.
“God, Joon,” Seokjin whispers. They’re breathing hot onto each other’s lips. “Can I… do you want me to…?” Namjoon’s face is so intense, he’s burning with desire but also not completely sure and Seokjin wants him so much he feels like he’s going to die. Nonetheless, he readies himself to stop if Namjoon needs him to, but Namjoon just pulls his hands to his waist and starts to unbutton his pants.
“You too. Please, Jin-hyung, I want to… I want you,” Namjoon sighs, and Seokjin swoons.
They touch each other, heat curling up Seokjin’s spine even as his own pleasure is secondary to him. Putting his hands on Namjoon like this is almost too much, the pounding tenderness in his heart swelling until he feels like he’ll burst. He watches Namjoon’s face the whole time, watches him as he tries to keep his eyes on Seokjin but eventually can’t keep them from closing, his breath coming harder, faster, shakier, until it seems like his body will fly into pieces.
“Joon-ah, it’s okay, I’ve got you, relax. God, you’re so beautiful. You’re gorgeous, you’re perfect.”
Namjoon’s face and voice are agonizingly lovely, and when he moans softly, “Seokjin, Jin-hyung, oh,” Seokjin knows he’ll think about it until the day he dies.
He’s so overwhelmed that it takes next to nothing to drown him in pleasure, panting into Namjoon’s neck, and they hold each other for a long moment, catching their breath, feeling their pounding heartbeats slow together. Seokjin waits to look at Namjoon’s face, terrified he’s going to see regret on his features as the euphoria starts to wash away. But when he finally looks at him, he sees the softest smile, the sweetest dimples that he can’t resist kissing and kissing until Namjoon starts to laugh.
“Thank you, Joonie. Thank you for letting me --”
“Stop it, hyung. Thank you. I would’ve never… I never….” Namjoon shakes his head and Seokjin takes his face between his hands, resisting the urge to squish him into oblivion.
“Namjoon, if you need time to think, it’s okay. But I have to warn you, if you let me, I’m going to do this every single time I see you get mad at yourself, and I’m not going to stop until you can’t think straight, and I’m going to love every second of it.”
Namjoon just reaches up and caresses Seokjin’s face too, softly breathing against his lips, just whispering his name, “Jin-hyung….” Seokjin’s heart sings.