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A gush of hot wind greets them as they exit the convenience store, causing the outdoor umbrellas to sway and Min Yoongi to curse at the season. Seokjin nudges him with their plastic bag full of ice cream before walking off into the direction of their apartment complex.
“Why did I have to go with you again?” the younger man grumbles as he fixes the cap on his head. “I could have stayed in the living room, keeping it cool for when you get back.”
“Shut up, you haven’t been touched by sunlight in a week. And yet you still dressed up like a vampire.” The taller looks him up and down, rolling his eyes for the third time because of Yoongi’s summer outfit. He’s covered from head to toe in black, like a walking sauna. The outfit is ridiculous given that Seokjin is wearing a tank top and basketball shorts, sporting his bleach blonde hair, and walking next to this pretentious goth. “Don’t expect me to take care of you when you get a heat stroke.”
“Ha! You wish. You won’t be able to resist taking care of me.” Yoongi peers up at his roommate, smirking. It’s a challenge not to laugh at his face when he’s squinting so hard from the harsh sun. “You can’t help babying people. It’s like an itch.”
Unable to deny Yoongi’s claims, Seokjin just opts to bring the plastic bag up to the shorter’s nape. He quickly presses the Melona popsicles against the heated skin. Yoongi’s uncharacteristic shriek is immediately followed by the characteristic squeaky laugh of the taller, which drowns out the other man’s threats to his life if he ever tells their friends about his reaction.
It takes them 10 minutes longer than usual to get back to their building.
The electric fans are turned on faster than the living room lights, courtesy of Yoongi’s whining and quick reflexes. He sheds off his jacket only to toss it somewhere near the television and lie down in the middle of their rug. Seokjin just tuts at the lazy display but walks over anyway, sweet cold treats in hand. The tall man sits himself on their pleather couch (his thighs are going to be sweating in minutes), in front of the rug.
“Here,” he hands over the mango popsicle to his roommate.
Yoongi stretches himself first (like a cat, Seokjin’s mind supplies), causing his own tank top to rise up a little and giving Seokjin a peek of his stomach. He suddenly grabs at the offering hand instead, only because his eyes are scrunched up from the heat. The younger’s dramatic like that. The pale hand slides from Seokjin’s until it finally grabs and pulls at the plastic packaging. Seokjin lets it go.
Noisy whirs of plastic blades fill the small living room. There’s the occasional meeting and clack of Seokjin’s spoon with his teeth, followed by his exaggerated moans about the strawberry ice cream in his pint. Yoongi just observes him from his position on the floor; lying down on his front, elbows propping himself up, and a hand holding his popsicle, just languidly mouthing at the flavored ice.
Kim Seokjin isn’t stupid. Really, no matter what Hoseok and Namjoon say. He just likes acting oblivious to his roommate’s attraction, to the frustration of the younger couple. See, Yoongi, well, he isn’t really subtle but he still gets grumpy and adorably pouty when Seokjin doesn’t react to him in any way. He doesn’t mean to be mean, it’s just ridiculous and cute. And Seokjin’s can’t help being too restricting with his own feelings.
Case 1 : The younger once came home modestly tipsy. Naturally, he threw himself on Seokjin who was lounging on their couch. The older just got up, placed a water bottle and painkillers on their end table, and kissed his forehead goodnight. Yoongi refused to drink out with Seokjin for a month.
Case 2 : Last year, Yoongi bought a pretty cute pre-owned skirt from the university fair, but didn’t have the confidence to wear it outside. So obviously, he just wore it around the apartment at night when the roommates were both present. It was totally fine, cozy. Until Yoongi started huffing and going around the house, bending himself at the hip trying to reach for objects on the lower drawers and on the floor that weren’t there. Every time he straightened up, he peeked at Seokjin, trying to determine if he’d been looking. The night ended with him changing into shorts when the older showed no signs of pink cheeks or awkward boners. Kim Seokjin is just a good acting major.
Case 3 : It had been a quiet night, Seokjin running his hands through Yoongi’s hair while his head rests on the older’s lap. “I just want to date someone as handsome as you, Seokjin hyung,” he said in the middle of the kissing scene of the drama they were watching. Seokjin smiles, not looking at the man below him, and suggests, “There’s this film student majoring in set design that kinda looks like me. I can give you his number.” And, okay, maybe he went a little too far with that one since Yoongi didn’t say anything to him the rest of the night and stayed quiet in the morning the next day. Almost told him that he’d be happy to date his roommate since he wants to date someone as handsome, passionate, and loving as Yoongi too. But Seokjin let it go, when his persistent roommate came back in the afternoon.
He’s here right now, licking at his mango Melona in the laziest way known to man while keeping direct eye contact with Seokjin. The man on the couch just takes another scoop into his mouth, raising an eyebrow. “What?” he mumbles, tongue against the teaspoon.
The younger hums, lips puckered against the ice, before answering, “This is rock hard, hyung. It isn’t even melting.” He demonstrates by licking it a few times and it’s true. The popsicle isn’t even dripping on Yoongi’s milky fingers.
“That’s weird. It’s fucking boiling today. The store’s fridge must be on maximum,” Seokjin supplies. They keep on just looking at each other while putting ice cream in their mouths. “Just savor it. Mine’s already halfway finished.”
“My mouth’s getting numb,” Yoongi says petulantly. His pout is extra red from the cold, his cheeks blushing from the summer heat. The delicate pink tongue peeks through his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.
Seokjin knows Yoongi’s observing him, calculating his reactions in order to see if he should pursue this tactic or stop and move on to something else in the future. Frankly, Seokjin is tired of acting like he isn’t affected whenever his roommate practically threw himself on to him. Or when he’s shyly caring and a genuinely amazing person. Like he doesn’t enjoy how Yoongi craves his attention or affection whenever they’re together (which is about 75% of the time). Like he doesn’t enjoy giving it.
Oh, does he enjoy giving it.
Yoongi gives the popsicle another lick which embarrassingly causes the older’s dick to twitch at the action. Cat-like eyes are on him like a hawk so he’s sure the response does not go unnoticed. Seokjin places his spoon inside the half-eaten pint and sets it aside on the end table. He licks his lips before speaking.
“Come here.”
It takes a few seconds: Yoongi’s eyes widening, his eyebrows slightly rising up into his black bangs, and his hand almost lets go of the popsicle. “Oh, careful,” Seokjin reminds, his voice now laced with something dark. Fingers grip back tightly on the stick and Yoongi rises off the rug. He ends up sitting on his feet, arms resting on Seokjin’s muscular thighs.
“Here I am,” he says around the flavored ice. So close to where they both want his mouth to be.
Seokjin runs his hand through soft curling hair, making Yoongi close his eyes and hum. The popsicle’s top is beginning to melt, the base still intact and iced. “Want me to help you with that?” he offers the younger.
The ice cream leaves his mouth with a pop, a bit of it hitting Seokjin’s basketball shorts in drops. Yoongi’s eyes looked dazed, like he can’t believe that this is happening. Finally happening. Seokjin was about to get concerned about how prone he might be to suggestion, when Yoongi gulps and closes his eyes before opening them again, the haze gone.
“Yes, please,” he lets out, gravelly but quiet.
The speed at which Seokjin removes his shorts matches the unhurried presses of Yoongi’s lips against the popsicle. The younger is making such as mess on his mouth and cheeks that it becomes challenging for him not to just shove the clothing off of his legs and stuff him with cock. But he keeps calm, teasing the man in between him with each centimeter of flesh revealed.
Strangely, despite being roommates for three years, they’ve never seen each other completely naked. Always just viewing deliciously broad shoulders and impossibly milky legs whenever possible. Which is why Yoongi shamelessly groans at the sight of Seokjin not wearing briefs under his shorts, instantly giving him a show of what he’s been craving for for years. His roommate is long, not the thickest, but thick enough for Yoongi to contemplate how much his jaw would hurt later.
“All right, let’s finish eating that popsicle, hmm?” Seokjin says as he sits back down near the edge of the couch, shorts around his ankles and Yoongi back on his thighs.
The smell in between the older’s thighs is heavy, a mixture of sweat and arousal. It makes Yoongi’s head swim, makes him want to throw away the damn popsicle and just take Seokjin in. But he sticks to his plan and scoots closer, the older also moving forward a bit more. Yoongi positions the popsicle beside Seokjin’s cock facing him, making the man above him jolt and hiss. A sticky, sweet kiss is given to his inner thigh as an apology.
“Hyung,” he calls.
“Mm?”
“Thanks for the treat.”
And Yoongi opens wide, takes both the cock and the now softening ice cream into his mouth with some difficulty. The action automatically makes Seokjin’s legs spread wider, thrusting forward a little. The heat of the member and the ice of the dessert overloads Yoongi’s senses. He hardly keeps his eyes open. But Seokjin moans breathlessly at a particularly harsh suck on both the tip of the popsicle and the dick, making Yoongi look up, afraid to miss the older’s responses.
Their gazes are set on each other, both heavy lidded and hazy. Yoongi’s differ by the wetness of his eyes though, not used to having his mouth occupied this much. Seokjin seems to notice the younger’s struggle and efforts, cupping one of his cheeks. “Aww, baby, I never noticed how small your mouth is,” he says with a labored chuckle.
Yoongi’s eyebrows knit in annoyance, causing Seokjin to laugh even more. As if he isn’t getting his dick sucked at the moment! He inhales a large amount of air through his nose and pushes his mouth down on the cock and the cream, all while keeping teary eye contact. Seokjin almost swallows his tongue at the action and the determination in Yoongi’s eyes. The heat in his stomach builds up quickly.
Mango ice cream drips along Seokjin’s cock down to his balls and in between his thighs. It takes great effort for Yoongi to constantly slurp up the liquid and to swallow, mixing up with Seokjin’s own. Wouldn’t want to stain their cheap couch. In any case, the tightening and contraction of his throat adds to the blinding pleasure if the grip on the back of his head and the ceaseless moaning out of his name above him is any indication.
He presses on, swallowing down the cock and the melted ice until his nose meets Seokjin’s wiry hair. His sweet tongue extends outwards with effort until Yoongi’s lapping up the liquid that reached the older’s balls. There’s only the popsicle stick in his hand now and so he tosses it away as he eases off the hardness. Yoongi grabs at Seokjin’s thigh, the wet hand staining his skin, and licks at the remaining flavor on the cock, his balls, the inner thighs. His other hand travels to his own aching member, still confined in black fitting joggers. The pressure from his hand and the weight on his tongue is euphoric.
“You’re driving me crazy,” Seokjin whimpers out when he notices the younger’s shift in action. Yoongi lightly sucks on a ball sack, thoroughly cleaning the surface, and the man above him can’t breathe. “Yo-Yoongi, I’m gonna cum.”
The younger continues licking at the cock, up to the tip. “Give it to me, hyung,” he mouths on the flesh before engulfing it once more in tight wet heat. It only takes two, three swipes of his tongue under the head for Seokjin to release in his roommate’s mouth. Yoongi thinks he’s never tasted anything sweeter.
It’s only when Yoongi finally pulls off, that Seokjin notices the sweat layering his thighs, forehead, and nape. His face probably beet red by now due to the heat and the heat that is Min Yoongi. Who is looking absolutely wrecked on the rug: chest heaving, bottoms visibly wet, and hair mussed up in a birds’ nest. And his face , damn. There’s trances of mango flavor all over his cheeks, a smudge of cum on his top lip, and eyelashes paired together by the wetness of his eyes. Seokjin would get hard again if he wasn’t so tired. And if the sweat and stickiness of their bodies weren’t making him crave a shower. But alas, that’s most of what he wants at the moment.
And so Seokjin stands up from the couch, ignoring the sound the now dirtied couch makes when it separates with skin. He supports Yoongi by his elbow and lower back before helping him up, the younger winces at the straightening of his legs after a long time of being folded. The taller removes his top to wipe away the fluids all over Yoongi’s face, the passing of the material making the smaller scrunch up his nose.
“Hyung,” he whispers when Seokjin’s done, tone unsure. Yoongi’s looking up at him with wide, scared eyes, and it breaks his heart that he caused his obvious doubt on their relationship, on what could be.
To make amends, Seokjin gently places one or three strawberry flavored kisses on Yoongi’s plump lips. The gesture drives away the uncertainty in the shorter’s eyes, making them both smile. Sweet and warm. They’ll talk everything out later, maybe over home cooked dinner.
“Take care of me?” Yoongi suggests.
“Of course,” he answers after a giggle and another peck. “How can I resist?”
They walk together towards their measly bathroom, ready to just stand together under the cold spray of the shower. Finally close. Finally clean of hidden feelings.
Noisy whirs of plastic blades fill the small living room. A dirty popsicle stick calls ants towards it on the rug. A pool of strawberry ice cream rests in a pint on the living room’s end table.