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“For you.”
Jungkook looks down at the lollipop suspiciously.
“Why?”
Namjoon thrusts it towards Jungkook, more insistently this time.
“I saw you eyeing them earlier,” he says. He doesn’t mention how Jungkook’s been biting on his lips the whole day, going to Namjoon’s pocket every-so-often to fish out some lip balm because he carries his own, but apparently Namjoon’s is always nicer.
Jungkook flushes a little, a subtle pink tinting his ears (cute). He takes the candy from Namjoon’s hand, tearing into the plastic.
“How much was it?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Namjoon says, easily. “Hyung’s treat.”
Jungkook nods, and Namjoon watches him struggle with the wrapper, twisted tightly around the plastic stick. The skin of his knuckles is pink like he's been mouthing at them, but the skin around his nails is still mostly smooth, save for a few hangnails from where he’s been picking at them.
“Let me do it for you.”
“I got it — “
“Baby,” Namjoon says, and he knows that’s dirty pool, but all’s fair and all that. Jungkook’s movements stutter. “Let me help you.”
Jungkook forfeits the lollipop a little reluctantly, and Namjoon unwraps it with swift fingers, pocketing the plastic wrapper.
“Open up.”
“Hyung,” Jungkook says, a little whiny, but his mouth falls open (always so pliant) when Namjoon presses the treat to his mouth, lips closing around it.
“Good?”
“Mm-hm.”
“Good,” Namjoon agrees, low, and Jungkook studies him with wide eyes, bright and beautiful. It feels like a little too intimate a moment to have at a place like this with staff running around, cameras rolling, and the fans stood right outside, and Namjoon wonders whether Jungkook realizes it, too, because he swallows thickly around the lollipop. Before Namjoon gets to say anything, though, the managers call them to huddle around for filming their last comments before calling it a day, piling into cars to go home.
It didn’t take long for them to figure out Jungkook’s thing.
They used to joke about it, how the baby is teething, always chewing on something (gum, pens, hoodie sleeve, even the occasional whiteboard, which, what the fuck), mouth working listlessly around whatever object he managed to get his hands on. Jungkook doesn’t mind the light teasing (the comments about his bunny teeth and the occasional stop chewing on the pencils oh my god Jungkook are you a beaver while they’re scribbling down lyrics in the studio), but the more they tease, the more Namjoon realizes how often it happens. It’s kind of fascinating, really, the way Jungkook could spend the better part of breakfast chewing on his spoon instead of his Cornflakes, only realizing he’s doing it when he goes to contribute to the conversation and the spoon falls out of his mouth into the bowl with a metallic clack, spilling milk on the counter. It gets worse when he’s upset or anxious, emerging from his room with red-rimmed eyes and his lips all swollen and pink after a performance gone wrong, or the makeup artists taking to carrying Chupa Chups just to keep an apologetic Jungkook away from any brushes he’s supposed to be holding, even if just for a minute.
“It helps calm me down,” Jungkook had explained, once, tugging nervously on the sleeve of his hoodie. Namjoon has seen that sleeve go into his mouth more times than he can count, Jungkook’s pretty pouted lips closing around the fabric, coming out with a wet spot, where he’s been sucking on it.
“I don’t want you to get hurt.”
“I won’t,” Jungkook had said, holding his gaze, all determination. “I know my limits.”
“Okay.”
Namjoon had been scared of coming off as pushy and scaring Jungkook away, considering that he already looked ready to spring out of his seat and run somewhere where he’d never have to risk having this conversation again. Still, he couldn’t help himself adding, “If there’s ever anything we can do to help, you’ll ask us, right, Kook?”
Jungkook had simply nodded, letting the silence stretch between them, before —
”Do you think it’s weird?”
“Weird?”
“Yeah,” Jungkook had said, teeth worrying at his lower lip, wet and pink. Namjoon tries not to stare. “My mouth — thing.”
Namjoon shook his head.
“No,” he’d said, easily, honestly. “I just want you to ask for help, if you ever need it.”
And that had been that, except that isn’t really a fair statement, considering what followed was a lot of what Hoseok fondly refers to as emotional horny fumbling. If you had told 22-year-old Namjoon that in a few years’ time he’d be graciously offering his dick for Jungkook to use as a personal chew toy (sans, you know, the chewing), he would have probably disintegrated into a pile of existential angst on the floor. But 23-year-old Jungkook is a lot better at asking for help than 19-year-old Jungkook ever was, and Namjoon — was and is, will always be — there to give it to him.
(Literally.)
They’ve been home for a couple hours, when the door to Namjoon’s room opens, and Jungkook stumbles inside. Namjoon looks up, setting down his copy of The Vegetarian just as the door shuts behind a bewildered looking Jungkook. There’s giggling and then the faint sound of retreating footsteps. Jungkook regains his composure quickly, mattress dipping as he climbs on the bed, wordlessly straddling Namjoon and settling onto his lap.
“You okay?” Namjoon asks, brushing a strand of hair away from his boyfriend’s face.
Jungkook nods, grinning.
“Kiss?”
Straight to the point tonight, apparently. Namjoon rolls his eyes, amused, nodding. Namjoon’s likes kissing, but it's hardly any surprise that Jungkook adores it, could spend hours sucking on Namjoon’s tongue, licking into his mouth until his jaw aches, swapping spit and letting their lips get bruised in the process. Namjoon lets his mouth fall open almost immediately after Jungkook leans down, granting his eager mouth easier access. Jungkook makes a satisfied little noise, getting more comfortable in his lap. Kissing Jungkook is probably the nearest Namjoon will ever come to a spiritual experience, but there’s something extra gratifying about getting to savor it like this instead of trading hurried kisses in washrooms between schedules, away from the prying eyes of the public (nothing says romance like the bathrooms in the KBS building). Jungkook seems to be happy taking his time, too, licking playfully at the roof of Namjoon’s mouth, making him jolt a little, pulling away.
“Tickles.”
“Sorry,” Jungkook says, leaning in to peck his lips in quick apology (even if the grin on his face is anything but apologetic).
“No more gaming?” Namjoon asks, nodding at the door. “Did they kick you out?”
Jungkook shakes his head.
“Got bored. Kept chewing on the controller.”
“What happened to the lollipop?”
“Are you kidding? Finished it in, like, five minutes.”
Namjoon frowns.
“That’s bad for your teeth.”
”Needed something else to chew on instead.”
“Oh, so you came here?”
Jungkook grins. “Yeah.”
Namjoon knows there’s no point denying it. He remembers the first few times they’d gotten carried away, Jungkook leaving behind a trail of angry-looking hickeys that Namjoon had to painstakingly work to cover up. Jungkook’s not any less eager with his teeth nowadays, but they’ve learned to be more strategic about indulging Jungkook’s appetite of sorts. Namjoon strips out of his hoodie and shirt easily, throwing them on the floor.
“I like that hoodie,” Jungkook says, moving to mouth at Namjoon’s neck. “You should wear it more.”
“Yeah?”
“Mm-hm,” Jungkook hums. “Lie down.”
Jungkook shifts to the side to allow Namjoon to slide further down on the bed before settling down in his lap again, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. There’s something lewd about the way he’s spread out, Jungkook sat with his thighs bracketing Namjoon's hips on the bed, the soft material of his home shorts against the rough fabric of Namjoon’s jeans.
“Can’t believe you didn’t change,” Jungkook says. “No jeans in bed, that’s the rules.”
Namjoon scoffs out a laugh.
“Well, they’re coming off soon, right?”
He can feel Jungkook's small smile against his skin, tongue lapping at the junction between his neck and shoulder. Once he’s satisfied with the work he's done on Namjoon’s neck, Jungkook moves down, pressing a kiss on his collarbone and another on his sternum before closing a mouth around his nipple, wet and warm.
“Fuck.”
Jungkook hums in acknowledgment, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud, pressing down slightly, and Namjoon groans. Before Jungkook, Namjoon never used to care about his nipples, not more than he’s cared about, say, his bellybutton, anyway. They were just kind of there, until Jungkook — horrified by the years of neglect (Jungkook’s words, not his) — took it upon himself to, quote, introduce him to the wonderful world of nipple stimulation. Jungkook kisses his way to the other nipple, teeth grazing on the nub, latching on hard enough to make Namjoon yelp, squirming away.
“Sorry,” Jungkook mumbles quietly, absently, pulling away to press a gentle kiss on the skin in apology, and Namjoon’s not sure whether Jungkook is talking to him or his nipple, pebbling to full attention like greeting an old friend. It’s almost cute, in a weird way. “Sorry.”
Jungkook gets back into it, kissing his way down Namjoon’s body, flattening his tongue against Namjoon’s happy trail before unbuttoning his jeans. Namjoon lifts up his hips and Jungkook slides his jeans and underwear down in one go. Namjoon would probably consider this one of the less sexy parts of the whole operation considering the amount of wiggling that’s involved, but Jungkook just stares at his dick like it is the best thing he’s ever seen, hungry and awe-struck. It’s flushed red, drooling over his stomach and bobbing up when Jungkook sticks his face up close.
“Kook,” Namjoon groans, a little desperate.
Jungkook does most things in life with a single-minded focus, and there’s no reason why there shouldn’t be some sort of method to this, too. It doesn’t take a lot to get him interested, now that his prize is finally out, Jungkook mouthing at his thighs, nipping at the sensitive skin on the inside. Namjoon knows that’s gonna bruise, gonna stop everyone in their tracks in the middle of a quick change, an equally appreciative and terrified silence falling until someone will break it, scoffing, are you dating a vampire or what, but right now, Namjoon doesn’t find it in himself to care. Jungkook nuzzles against Namjoon’s pubes, breath coming out hot against his skin. Namjoon groans in relief when Jungkook finally closes his mouth around his leaking cock.
“Slow down,” Namjoon warns, petting a hand through Jungkook’s hair for some measure of control because his boyfriend would probably gladly swallow him down in one go otherwise, humming happily to himself like there was nowhere he’d rather be than choking on Namjoon’s cock. Jungkook builds up to a rhythm, bobbing his head up and down, hair falling a little over his eyes as he works. He swirls his tongue around the head, dipping into the slit before pulling away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to the head of Namjoon’s cock, so wet, already.
“You should fuck my mouth.”
“No.”
”Please.”
”No way,” Namjoon says, firm. ”You gotta sing tomorrow.”
“So?”
“So,” Namjoon says, “I’m not explaining to them that you can’t sing, because you were — “
“Taking your cock down my throat?” Jungkook asks innocently, and Namjoon chokes a little. “I can tell them.”
“You don’t need to tell them cause you’re not doing it.”
Jungkook moves to mouth at the head of his neglected cock like he’s consoling someone who’s been awkwardly left in the middle of their squabble. The there, there, one day, I’ll treat you like you deserve is implied. Namjoon figures that’s all part of the comfort thing.
“Bet you’d love that, though,” Jungkook says, looking up at him with the same wide eyes as he did in the store, the lollipop pressed on his tongue, and Namjoon knows that Jungkook knows that two people can play this game. “If I told them.”
“Jungkook,” Namjoon warns.
“There’s no way they don’t think it,” Jungkook continues, unfazed, chattering on while mouthing at the side of Namjoon’s shaft. “Obviously, got to be the kid with the oral fixation and the boyfriend, all tall an’ big, he’s gotta be big like that everywhere, right?“
“That’s not how it works,” Namjoon grits out.
“Yeah, but I’ll tell them,” Jungkook continues, bumping his nose at the skin of Namjoon’s abdomen and his hair tickles Namjoon’s skin, before sinking his mouth down on his cock again. The warm suction makes Namjoon’s eyes roll back. Jungkook keeps bobbing his head up and down, keeps talking when he's not, keeps grinding down the mattress, and Namjoon’s so fucking close, already. “That they don’t need to worry about me getting my teeth on the mic, because — hmpf — ‘cause I had my boyfriend’s big cock down my throat all night, and I luh — hng — loved it so much — got my voice all fucked up ‘cause of it —“
“Fuck, Kook, your mouth, you’re fucking filthy.”
“I know,” Jungkook agrees, happy. Everything’s slick and wet because Jungkook doesn’t really care about being neat and tidy now that he’s gotten his fix of what he’s been craving all day. Namjoon pats at Jungkook’s head, scratching his nails on the nape of his neck gently. “Wan’ed this for so long — used to do with my fingers, stick them down my mouth, think about your — yuh — cock but wasn’t the same — “
“God, baby, mouth stuffed full, and you’re still talking.“
“Love it,” Jungkook says, pulling up to spit on Namjoon’s dick, as if everything isn’t overwhelming already, scorching hot and slick. “Luh — to be stuffed. Mouth full of cock. Love it so much.”
Namjoon knows that this isn’t about him as much as it is about satisfying Jungkook, but the words shoot through his spine and straight into his dick anyway, hips kicking up when Jungkook moves back down, the head of his cock gliding across the roof of Jungkook’s mouth, bumping at the back of his throat. It catches Jungkook off-guard, making him choke on it, a lewd, broken sound before he’s pulling away.
“Oh, shit, sorry —”
“Do it again.”
Jungkook’s barely caught his breath, eyes big and dark, glistening with tears, wet lashes clumping together, and god, Namjoon feels so fucking wrong for the way his stomach tightens at the sight, dick bobbing against his abdomen in an attempt to get back on with the program.
“Look at you,” he says, softly, closing a hand around his shaft, stroking a few times before pushing the head on Jungkook’s lips, smearing precome on his spit-slick bottom lip. “So pretty.”
“Would be even prettier with your cock down my throat,” Jungkook retorts, and Namjoon chuckles.
“When you’re done recording your parts —,” he promises, carding his fingers through Jungkook’s hair, obsessed with how soft it is, growing longer and curling a little at the ends from how it had been styled earlier. He catches his finger gently on the small hoops dangling from Jungkook’s ears, tugging a little. “— I’ll give you whatever you want. Can you be good until then?”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
Jungkook nods, satisfied enough, closing his lips around Namjoon’s cock again, sinking down. Namjoon bites his lip to hold himself from teasing Jungkook, making a comment about how Jungkook would’ve got his mouth around his cock sooner or later, anyway, regardless of what the answer had been. Instead, he settles one hand back in Jungkook’s hair, gently guiding him up and down. Jungkook seems to have worn himself out in his desperation earlier, picking up a languid rhythm this time, eyelashes fanning out against his cheeks as he suckles on Namjoon’s cock like a treat. Getting a blowjob will never be a hardship, but the same can’t exactly be said about giving one, and sometimes Namjoon wonders how he lucked out with someone like Jungkook, beautifully eager like Namjoon’s pleasure is just a happy bonus.
“That’s it,” Namjoon says, lowly. “So good for me.”
Jungkook makes a pleased little sound, vibrations adding to the hot suction around his cock, and Namjoon groans.
“Not gonna last much longer.”
“Tell me when,” Jungkook says, simply, and Namjoon nods. Jungkook closes his mouth around the head again, using his hand to give him a few wet strokes, before sinking down lower. He keeps it up like a champ, and Namjoon can feel the familiar build-up at the pit of his stomach like a string being pulled taut, tighter and tighter until —
Jungkook pulls away, and Namjoon doesn’t get to mourn the loss of the hot heat for long before Jungkook closes two hands, then one hand, around his cock, stroking quickly, smearing around the mess of pre-come bubbling from the slit.
“Gonna come.”
Jungkook leans down to press a kiss on the head of his cock, a little peck, so fucking cute that Namjoon could cry if he wasn’t two seconds away from coming, maybe harder than he has ever before, and then Jungkook grins, bright and toothy, because he knows exactly what he’s doing. “Come, hyung.”
Namjoon groans, head falling back against the pillow, cock shooting ropes of white across Jungkook’s lips and chin. Namjoon had had his own qualms about it in the beginning (even after Jungkook had insisted that he doesn’t mind it, loves to be marked up like that), associating it with the kind of cheap porn he’d spent his teenage years watching, something kind of impersonal. Jungkook still loves it, though, and Namjoon’s more than happy to provide, always is.
“C’mere,” Namjoon says, and Jungkook barely gets the chance to thumb the come off his lips and chin, haphazardly wiping his fingers on the sheets before Namjoon’s tugging him into his lap, leaning up to capture his lips in a kiss. Jungkook keens, when Namjoon slides a hand into his shorts, gripping his cock.
“You’re so wet already,” Namjoon says, appreciative, and Jungkook scoffs, a little weakly.
“Been hard since — hng — since you got me that lollipop.“
Jungkook lifts his hips, enough for Namjoon to slide down his shorts and underwear, pooling a little awkwardly in the middle of his thighs. Jungkook doesn’t seem to mind, sliding his hips forward experimentally, fucking into Namjoon’s fist.
“Yeah?” Namjoon asks, flicking his thumb across the head on the upstroke. “Maybe I should buy you stuff more often if that’s what gets you going.”
Jungkook laughs, a little breathless, and Namjoon is so gone.
“Sugar daddy,” Jungkook says, and he’s still smiling, clutching at the sheets a little, the muscles of his abdomen flexing, because Namjoon’s hand doesn’t let up, stroking fast. “You got me the lollipop — so you’d — makes you my sugar daddy. Get it?“
“Got it,” Namjoon murmurs, amused. “I’ll get you anything you want, baby.”
“Please.“
Jungkook keens, falling forward, mouth latching onto Namjoon’s neck, tongue dipping into the dip of Namjoon’s jugular, swirling around, movements stuttering momentarily, and then Namjoon feels it. The sudden wetness in his hand, Jungkook’s cock pulsing in his grip as he slumps against his chest with a broken groan, just from sucking on Namjoon's neck. Namjoon strokes him through it until he starts squirming.
“Gimme,” Jungkook mumbles, closing a hand around Namjoon’s wrist, and Namjoon doesn’t manage to get a word in before Jungkook is closing his mouth around the digits, swirling his tongue around them, lapping up his own come. For someone who loves sucking cock, Jungkook has never been much of a swallower — Namjoon doesn’t blame him, jizz isn’t exactly a delicacy — but Jungkook seems perfectly content licking it off Namjoon’s fingers, which should probably be a little more disgusting than what Namjoon finds it. Jungkook lets his fingers go eventually, but not before nipping on them (a teething puppy, his boyfriend).
“Thank you,” Jungkook mumbles. “Feel better.”
“Not really a hardship,” Namjoon says, amused, stroking a hand through Jungkook’s hair, and Jungkook’s expression softens.
“Still,” he says, gentle. “Thank you. For dealing with me and my mouth thing.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Namjoon says, fond. “I love you, all of you.”
“I love you, too.”
(Let it be said that Namjoon loves Jungkook just a little less when they get to the shower and he has finally has a chance to see the number Jungkook did on his thighs, already bruising, red and splotchy. Jungkook giggles and licks at his dimple (which, seriously gross) before pulling him in for a kiss under the shower spray, lovely and sweet, and Namjoon loves him all over again. Mouth thing and all.)