Work Text:
The fire leaps up from the burnt-black coals, threatening to catch on the tassel edge of his gray denim jeans, and in that moment, the world is in uproar, and nothing is still. Hoseok gazes into the burning red and orange, eyes wide and haunted, and he tells himself not to look away no matter how fervently Yoongi squeezes his hand to pull him out of reverie. The smoke rises out from the spitting bonfire, mixing with orange flecks of flame to sting his eyes and leave him breathless. The night is quiet, and though there is no wind to whip the smoke about, he still hears it howling in his ears, whistling through the gaps in his clothes, and chilling him to the bone. The fire doesn’t do much for warmth.
“Are you scared?’ Yoongi’s voice is deep, deeper than usual, so a justified shiver runs down Hoseok’s spine. He turns slightly, tilting his head toward the voice, but not taking his eyes off the glimmering spectacle of destruction in front of him. The rapidly wilting sticks of drywood, the ash disintegrating before his eyes — it’s hypnotizing.
“Not scared. No,” Hoseok begins, tongue sitting heavy and useless in his mouth. He parts his lips as if he might say more, but the fire picks up, jumping excitedly, jumping like it might at any moment leap onto the grass and burn down the entire field. Hoseok himself might be caught up in the blaze, burning passionately. Completely. How would he look, curling up into the night sky as gray tendrils of smoke? What shape would he take on? He coughs, more to clear his thoughts than his throat.
“Well, in any case, we should get going. No use in sitting around. Not unless we want something bad to happen. My dad’ll bring his car around, and we’ll pretend like this never—”
“You wish it never happened?’ Hoseok asks. He prods the base of the fire with a booted toe, shoving a little more fuel into the pit. The sticks immediately light, filtering out of existence quickly, so quickly that it’s as if they had never occupied space in this realm. Actually, as soon as they’re eaten up by the fire, Hoseok struggles to recall what they had looked like at all. The shape of the sticks faded into nothingness behind his eyes. Had they been thin, thick? Brown or red, with ragged edges, or sprouting tinier branches from its sides? For the life of him, he can’t remember. Yoongi is quick to reassure.
“No. I mean, I don’t regret coming out here with you. I asked you to come with me, right?” Yoongi pauses, choosing his words carefully. He walks on eggshells, careful not to set Hoseok alight.
“I don’t regret doing anything with you. I love you.”
“Oh,” Hoseok balks, stunned. He breaks his eye contact with the fire, turning now to face Yoongi fully. From here, he can appreciate his features. His small, cat-like eyes, the button nose, the full, soft cheeks, and the tender, half-suppressed smile, a smile that hardly shows the gums of his teeth, too soft, too gentle.
“You love me, huh? You love me.” Hoseok takes Yoongi’s face into his hands, drawing their bodies impossibly closer. He invades Yoongi’s space, pressing deeper, breaching into his world until they’re practically breathing the same air. Yoongi seizes, every muscle in his body tensing at once. His hurried breath catches stubbornly in his throat, and Hoseok wants to lean down and seal their lips together to loosen it.
“Seok?”
“What's something bad?” Hoseok says. He presses a chaste kiss to Yoongi’s squished cheeks, to his nose, to his forehead. He hovers over his lips, gentle. Yoongi relaxes, eyes fluttering closed and breath coming in slow, deep whooshes, deep enough that Hoseok can hear. His hands drift to Hoseok’s waist, clutching the thin cotton of his flannel throw over, fingers itching to get under and touch bare skin.
“Huh?” Yoongi asks intelligently, brain blocked by a fog of lust. He pushes the flannel of Hoseok’s shoulders. Hoseok takes Yoongi’s head and guides it to the crook of his neck, silently beckoning him to leave wet kisses there. Naturally, he obliges. Hoseok sighs, leaning back to rest on his elbows as Yoongi set himself to work.
“You said,” he pauses, swallowing heavily as Yoongi bites a particularly sensitive patch of skin. He runs his tongue over the spot to soothe the ache, wet and drooling, and Hoseok is thankful he’s already sitting down as he’s sure his legs would have given out.
“You said if we stayed out here, something bad would happen. What’s something bad? If you love me, what’s gonna happen if you and I…?” Hoseok trails off, arching his back off the dirt campground and into Yoongi’s chest. He slips an arm underneath Hoseok’s back to support him. hugging him tight.
“If you and I...” he repeats, managing between puffs of air. Yoongi pulls away from his neck for a moment, gazing at Hoseok’s slightly flushed face, his parted lips, the way his chest rises and falls with each heaving breath. He runs a thumb over Hoseok’s cheek, subtly affectionate.
“Now? Right here?”
“Yes. Right here. Please. I want it.”
“We can’t.”
“Why not? Yoongi—” Hoseok lifts Yoongi’s black hoodie up over his head, ruffling his hair in the process. His fingers scramble to pull the grey undershirt off as well. but Yoongi pushes his hands away, laughing dismissively.
“We can’t. We have class tomorrow, and it’s already late. Your parents already hate me for keeping you out. God, when your mom sees you,” Yoongi pushes Hoseok’s head to the side, baring his neck to show several rapidly purpling bruises from the crest of his jaw to his collarbone.
“Let her see. I don’t care. You love me.” Hoseok breaks into a gentle smile, teeth only just barely peeking out from behind his lips. Yoongi rolls his eyes, flipping their bodies over so that Hoseok sits comfortably in his lap. This way, he can hug him properly.
“You’re never going to let me live that down.”
“No, I won’t,” Hoseok says, matter-of-fact. He presses a finger underneath Yoongi’s chin, pulling his head up to connect their lips. Hoseok melts into the kiss immediately, body crumpling and leaning into Yoongi, who has to grip the small of his back to keep him upright. Yoongi’s lips still taste faintly of s’mores: chocolate mingling with sugary-sweet marshmallow on his tongue, along with a note of something that is too obscure for him to name, something that is distinctively Yoongi. He wraps his arms about Yoongi’s neck, deepening the kiss and letting Yoongi’s tongue probe further into his mouth. He lets Yoongi’s hands wander from his chest, to his waist, and down to the lip of his briefs, gasping into his mouth when he plucks at the waistband. Yoongi pulls away to breathe, eliciting a whine from Hoseok’s kiss-swollen lips.
“You want your pants off?” Yoongi asks, panting, thumbing at the zipper.
“Please. Please, I want ‘em off. Take ‘em off.” Yoongi fumbles with Hoseok’s jeans, tugging the blue denim down until it pools at his feet. Yoongi’s half-way out of his own pants, shuffling out of them awkwardly as he strives to keep his lips locked with Hoseok’s. He’s so lost in Hoseok’s breathy sighs that he doesn’t notice the sound of an engine pulling into the campgrounds, nor the flashing LED headlights. Yoongi’s only just slipped his hands into Hoseok’s boxers when he suddenly thrashes out of his grip, pushing Yoongi off his body and sending the both of them hurtling into the woody brush. Yoongi glances down, perturbed.
“Did I hurt you—” Before he can finish his sentence, Hoseok is pointing over his shoulder at an older, grizzled man with his hands crossed over his shoulders. His eyes are glassy and hard, but small. Just like Yoongi’s. Fuck.
Hoseok buries his face in Yoongi’s chest, practically shaking with embarrassment. Yoongi pulls his pants up hurriedly, thankful that he’d only gotten about halfway through the ordeal before being interrupted. He’s careful to continue laying on Hoseok, who unfortunately, has discarded his skinny jeans a while ago.
“Dad!” Yoongi screams. “What are you doing here? Go away!”
“Don’t worry, I didn’t see anything. Just make sure to clean up.”