Work Text:
Jooheon’s legs are on fire, burning with adrenaline, burning with strain, burning with the desire to win . He’s pounding down the field, knowing the ball is coming his way, knowing he’s going to take control. He was born for this game, for this moment, for every moment he’s on the field. He sees the ball coming, the player behind it, blond hair the only thing Jooheon can distinguish when he’s already so focussed on one thing, and so determined. But he knows who it is, doesn’t need to see his face. Fucking Hoseok. He moves in, tackles, takes the ball. Yes .
But then the referee’s whistle is blowing, and Jooheon turns around to see Hoseok on the ground, holding his shin like Jooheon has just stepped on it with his studded shoes. Jooheon throws his hands in the air. “Seriously?” He knows he wasn’t anywhere close enough to hurting the guy. What fucking bullshit . “Again?”
Hoseok looks for all the world like he’s in pain, but when the ref turns away, he gives Jooheon a sneaky grin. Frustration surges through Jooheon, and as Hoseok’s teammates help lift him to his feet, Jooheon surges forward, shoving him in the chest just hard enough to make him have to catch himself. He does, both legs holding him firm, and Jooheon gives him a satisfied smirk. But before Jooheon can even open his mouth to call attention to it, Hoseok is shoving him back, just a little harder.
They lock eyes, and Jooheon can see that Hoseok is just as angry as he is, and he doesn’t get it. Hoseok has been antagonising Jooheon the entire game. He does it every. Single. Fucking. Time. And frankly, Jooheon has had enough of his bullshit. He lurches towards Hoseok, pushing again, trying to goad him into throwing the first punch. But Hoseok just pushes back, quicker this time, so Jooheon does it too, even faster, and soon they’re locked in some bizarre push and shove that’s the complete opposite of a tug-o-war, and Jooheon is growing more frustrated by the second. Jooheon can hear the ref blowing her whistle, and their team mates either yelling at them to stop, or yelling at them to throw punches.
And then suddenly Jooheon’s hand slips as he shoves Hoseok, all his weight behind it, and he falls a little too close to Hoseok for his liking. And Hoseok—fucking Hoseok —leans forward and plants a kiss on his lips.
The collective cheers and squeals from their teammates are loudly echoed by the audience in the stands, and Jooheon realises their whole scuffle has been broadcast to the whole stadium. Which meant they also saw that last bit. Fuck? Fuck . He’s still standing there in shock as a red card is waved in front of his face, and then he’s being ushered off the field. His red-faced coach is waiting for him on the sidelines, and the gravity of the situation hits Jooheon then. He’s been red-carded. He’s never been red carded in the entirety of his career. He hasn’t even done anything. Not really.
Then the coach is yelling and Jooheon tries his best to listen, but he find his thoughts wandering to the feeling of Hoseok’s lips on his own, and he turns towards to the opposite team’s bench, wondering if he got red carded too. Sure enough, Hoseok is standing there being berated by his own lividly angry coach. His head turns to the side slightly as he catches Jooheon looking, and winks. Jooheon immediately flips him off, which of course, sets his coach off even more.
He’s lucky that they’re still in the middle of the game, or his coach would have ripped it into him for at least an hour. As it was, he’s forbidden to watch the game and sent back to the change rooms to ‘cool down’. Jooheon feels the shame burning on his cheeks as he goes, hoping that no one is paying him attention, and does his best to be inconspicuous as he goes. But even then, he hears a slur yelled from one of their own supporters, and dashes the last couple of meters to the stadium.
It’s not until he’s stripped down and under the warmth of the shower that Jooheon allows himself to assess the situation and his feelings. He’s still feeling frustrated, angry at Hoseok for being a dick, but even angrier at himself for letting it get to him. There are plenty of other players in other teams that love to try and get a rise out of him every time, but Hoseok is the first one to succeed. The image of Hoseok kissing Jooheon rises like a snake, unbidden and unwanted, and he tries to push it away, but the feel of those lips is just too vivid. His dick twitches. No. Not today.
But then he thinks of how pretty Hoseok is, with those big, goofy ears, and his dick twitches again. Jooheon sighs, long and loud. “Fine,” he says, to no one in particular, and lets the images flow through his mind. Hoseok taunting him; the way his muscles move under his clothes as he runs; his blond, floppy hair; his face (such a good face); and his lips. His beautiful, pouty mouth. Jooheon wonders what it would look like to have that mouth wrapped around his cock and he moans out loud, not trying to hold it back anymore. Jesus . He’s an annoying asshole, but he is gorgeous, and Jooheon is ridiculously attracted to him. And that , he realises, is why he gets under my skin .
Jooheon looks down at himself, at his painfully erect cock, and mildly appreciates that just the thought of a pretty boy can get him so damn turned on. He stares at it for a moment, contemplating whether or not to wank to the image of Hoseok’s mouth sucking him off. On one hand, Hoseok is the enemy, and a pain in Jooheon’s ass—if any of the others knew he was attracted to the knobhead they'd never let him live it down. On the other hand…
On the other hand, no one has to know. Jooheon grins to himself as he leans one hand against the wall, wrapping the other around his dick and giving himself a few lazy strokes, sighing. It’s been a while since he'd had a good wank. He needs it.
He lets himself go, jerking himself off with complete abandon. Sighs, moans, curses all escape his mouth—no one will be back in the changeroom for a while, so he has time. He imagines that the hand wrapped around him isn't his own, but Hoseok’s, and that new image sets him off more than he’ll ever admit outside of this one moment in time. He's close, so fucking close. God. Best wank he’s had in months.
“Need some help there?”
Jooheon yells in shock, turning so fast he slips on the wet tiles and falls against the wall, barely managing to stay upright. Standing there, leaning against the cubicle wall in all his naked glory, is Shin Hoseok. Jooheon wishes he could say that the shock is a huge turn off, that the real Hoseok standing there in front of him is a major boner killer. But both would be lies, and he isn’t a liar. In fact, the situation is the complete opposite. Hoseok’s body is so much better than Jooheon had even dared to imagine, all broad shoulders and chiseled abs, and beautiful thick legs that Jooheon wants wrapped around his neck. This is definitely not a boner killer.
“Jesus Christ,” Jooheon breathes, not daring to move, not sure what he wants to happen.
“Well, I'm not him, but you're close,” Hoseok says with a laugh, before closing the distance between them and crashing his mouth into Jooheon’s. It's heated and wet, the shower still cascading over both of them. Teeth and tongues clash, and Jooheon wraps his arms around Hoseok’s neck, pulling him closer so that he can deepen the kiss. At this point he's not even thinking anymore. His body wants what it wants, and who is Jooheon to deny himself something like this when it's just begging to happen?
Hoseok steps forward until they're standing flush, Jooheon’s back pressed up against the cool tiles, his front pressed up against Hoseok’s burning skin, the contrast sending shivers down his spine. Hoseok shifts slightly, and Jooheon gasps and their cocks touch, throwing his head back as Hoseok ruts against him slowly, their cocks slick, sliding deliciously together. Within minutes he's panting again, but it's not quite enough for him.
“Hoseok. Please.” The last bit comes out more like a whine, but Jooheon doesn't even care. It's pretty clear Hoseok is as attracted to him as he is to Hoseok, so he's willing to do almost anything for a decent fuck.
“Please what?” Hoseok says into Jooheon’s ear, his voice low and husky. Jooheon feels it in his cock and moans.
“More. Please.” It's barely coherent and not very specific, but Hoseok seems to figure out what Jooheon wants, if his grin is anything to go by. He reaches between them, taking them both in one warm hand, and starts to stroke lazily. Jooheon hisses and arches up, but Hoseok places his other hand on Jooheon’s hip, keeping them both still. He leans in and sucks Jooheon’s bottom lip between his teeth, grazing it gently. Jooheon moans wantonly, and Hoseok kisses him again, as if trying to breathe it in. His hand picks up pace, deftly stroking from base to tip, swiping his thumb over the forming precome, and then back down again.
Jooheon’s hands are still clasped around Hoseok’s neck and at this point he feels like that and the wall are the only things keeping him upright. The feelings wracking though his body are almost more than he can handle. He hasn't been touched in a long time, let alone had someone who knows what they're doing, and he falls into it, relishing in Hoseok’s skill and hoping this image stays with him for a lifetime.
Hoseok picks up the pace, moving his mouth to the spot just under Jooheon’s ear, and it doesn't take long until the younger is close again, this time more exquisitely so. “Ho-seok,” he manages to get out, his breath hitching as Hoseok licks one long, torturous stripe up the side of his neck.
“Yeah,” Hoseok breathes onto his skin. “Me too.”
It's quiet, apart from the sounds of water hitting naked skin, and the shlick-shlick of Hoseok’s hand. They aren't talking, they're barely moaning. Their breaths are ragged, their faces so close that it mingles between them, connecting like they're connecting. Jooheon’s head falls backs against the wall, his eyes fluttering shut, his hands holding onto Hoseok for dear life. Teeth graze his collarbone and he bucks up. Fuck .
“Jooheon.” The way Hoseok says it, so needing and desperate, but so commanding at the same time, has Jooheon opening his eyes to look Hoseok directly in the eye. The expression on Hoseok’s face—need, lust, desire—his mouth hanging slack as he himself comes close, is too much for Jooheon. He cries out as he comes, his body shuddering, gripping so tightly to Hoseok that he thinks he might have drawn blood. Hoseok comes undone right after him, his face buried in Jooheon’s neck, his hand still stroking them both through their orgsams.
They both come back down slowly, Jooheon sagging against the wall, completely boneless. Hoseok chuckles, placing a chaste kiss on Jooheon’s bruised lips. “I knew you'd be as good as you looked. You have no idea how long I wanted to do that.” He punctuates the sentence by drawing Jooheon in for another, deeper kiss, and simultaneously grabbing a handful of asscheek. Jooheon moans into his mouth, his oversensitive cock attempting a weak twitch.
Hoseok pulls back, and cups Jooheon’s face as he says, “See you next match, gorgeous.” And then he's off, walking out of Jooheon’s team change rooms the same way he’d arrived—butt naked.
“Fuck,” Jooheon breathes, running his hands through his hair, still using the wall for support. He feels so completely sated that he doesn’t even have it in him to even slightly regret what had just happened, and for that he’s grateful. He doesn’t need to feel guilty about looking forward to their next match.
But then it hits him. Who says I have to wait?