Chapter Text
Right there, Hoseok thinks to himself as he tugs at the base of his toy before unceremoniously shoving it back in. His yelps at the pressure, his legs quaking as he pushes at the button and the toy’s vibration intensity turns up a notch.
“Just—” He wiggles the toy, pressing it directly against his sweet spot before clicking on the button to make it vibrate at its highest intensity. He grits his teeth, tries to tramp down the urge to pull the toy out of him as this fresh orgasmic wave crashes into his body, his mouth falling open as a silent scream escapes his lips, entire body trembling with the force of his release.
He hisses through the tail end of his high, pulling the still-vibrating toy out of him as he shivers through the remnants of his climax. Hoseok lays there motionless, eyes squeezed shut as he gasps to even out his breathing and to mellow out his thundering heart.
When his high recedes, he stands up unceremoniously and pulls up his pants. He takes his lubed-up pink silicone toy, gives it a quick wash, stows it back where it belongs, and sits himself back in front of his computer to boot up his latest work.
And just like clockwork, Hoseok types out every hoard of nerve-wracking sensation he had just felt and lets his characters experience them exactly like how he just did. Can’t exactly give your characters feelings you haven’t felt, right?
To Hoseok, masturbating is just as much data-gathering as it is recreational. With the amount of sex he writes, he figures that indulging himself with his toy would be his best bet at research. And so far, that’s worked well enough for him.
Hoseok would like to think that he’s a good writer—great even. But he isn’t the kind of writer that can just whip out information and make it look like a fact for his characters when he has zero information about the subject. He can only ever write well about something he’s already gone through or is actually going through. So, he guesses, that he’s mainly projecting to his characters. But there’s nothing wrong about that.
He isn’t like Namjoon, Namjoon who can just about write anything and everything and make his readers believe that whatever he’s printed out on paper is true and realistic and factual. Namjoon and words just go hand in hand. Everything he writes feels cosmic, like becoming a writer is an inevitability. But Hoseok is never going to tell him that.
As if being summoned, a notification from Namjoon pings at the top right corner of his screen. Coffee on your way here please, it reads.
His rhythmic keyboard tapping pauses, so does his thought process. “On my way there?” Hoseok muses to himself. “Am I supposed to be—Shit.” He slams his laptop shut, gathers his notebook and pen and stows them into a bag. Just as he’s passing the door, he receives another notification on his phone.
You forgot, didn’t you?
Hoseok huffs as he walks twice as fast to get to Namjoon’s apartment.
“Oh, you’re here?” Namjoon says as he looks up from his laptop. Hoseok frowns at him. “After forgetting me?”
“I did not.” Hoseok toes his shoes off and makes his way to Namjoon’s coffee table where he deposits the requested beverages. He plops down on the floor, positioning himself right in front of his friend. “I was just, you know, late.”
Namjoon laughs at that and goes for his coffee. He takes a sip. “Uhu. And you were late, why?”
With the most deadpan face, Hoseok replies, “I was masturbating.”
“Okay.” Namjoon sets his coffee down and accepts the answer. Hoseok feels Namjoon’s eyes on him as he brings his laptop out and resumes right where he left off. But before he can even begin typing again, Namjoon follows it up with, “I can’t believe you forgot about me because you were masturbating.”
Hoseok sighs but ultimately begins his work. “I said I didn’t.”
Namjoon pushes his glasses up his nose and busies himself with his own work, his keyboard tapping filling the space. “Must be a heck of a scene.”
Silence.
And as if Namjoon just cannot help himself, he quips, “You won’t tell me?”
Hoseok laughs. He laughs until his sides hurt. He clears his throat, reaches for his own coffee, and begins, “Okay, so—”
It’s a lot of things, it’s mainly sex. Hoseok can ever only communicate through the physical body. He’s a great believer that words are unnecessary if fingers can talk, if hips can do the bidding, if lips are better off latched onto a reddened patch of skin than it is forming the shapes of vowels and consonants. And Namjoon knows as much. The great thing about Namjoon is how he’d just absorb whatever Hoseok tells him, never rebuts, not even when Namjoon creates the most eloquent characters who uses words like weapons and can make letters cleave right into his every reader’s hearts. They’re polar opposites, that’s what they are. But Hoseok thinks that that’s exactly what makes them work.
“You were holding out on me there, Hob-ah.” Namjoon smiles at him. “That’s good stuff.”
“Right, but listen.” Hoseok leans an elbow onto the table. “I don’t really understand the mechanics of this one position. See,” Hoseok tilts his head, “if they’re doing it in reverse cowgirl and the bottom doesn’t have his feet planted on the mattress, how are they moving?”
Namjoon shrugs. “The top moves for them, of course.”
Hoseok gives it some thought. He imagines a position where the top would have to hold onto both the bottom’s legs to keep them open and stationary, while the top thrusts his hips up. That could work, yeah, he thinks to himself. Hoseok goes quiet and returns to his word document, trying to execute Namjoon’s suggestion.
“Listen,” Namjoon says all of a sudden. “You know how the wheelbarrow works?”
“The sex positon?” Hoseok stops to look at Namjoon.
“Yeah,” Namjoon chews on his lip. “If the top is standing up, yeah. Would that be too hard of a position for the bottom?”
Hoseok snickers at that. “In what scenario would your characters even end up in this position, Namjoon-ah?”
Namjoon laughs. “Outdoors.” He looks back down at his laptop as if to check that what he has is exactly that. “Outdoors, grassy. Like the highlands? Can’t exactly lay on the ground for that, right?”
“But the wheelbarrow?”
“Say the bottom loses his balance.” Namjoon insists.
Hoseok reaches for his coffee and stirs his straw. “For that position to work, your bottom’s legs should have been suspended already. The top should have been holding him up by his legs—or his hips. How is the bottom losing his balance? Where was he coming from?”
Namjoon guffaws. “‘Where is he coming from?’ Hm. Yeah. I don’t know. I guess I just wanted it to work out like that, but I don’t know how they’d end up that way yet. But does it work?”
“The position?”
“Yeah. Would it work?”
Hoseok takes a sip of his coffee and laughs. “It should? I mean. Yeah, it should.”
The other looks at him quizzically. “You’ve never tried it?”
“With what, Joon-ah?” Hoseok raises an eyebrow in disbelief. “My dildo can only do so much. It can’t exactly hold me up, can it?”
Namjoon, with the most innocent eyes Hoseok has ever seen on a person, says, “But weren’t you and Seokjin-hyung adventurous?”
“Oh, shove it, Namjoon-ah.” Hoseok grumbles.
“No?” Namjoon insists, a sly look in his eyes now that he’s gotten this reaction out of him.
Hoseok waves an irritated hand at his laptop. “Can we not talk about my ex while we’re writing? How ‘bout that?”
His friend holds both his hands up in surrender. “Fine, fine.”
They work in silence for a good half hour before Hoseok is wondering aloud again. “If I called you ‘mine’ in the middle of sex would you swoon?”
Namjoon bursts out laughing.
“I’m so serious,” Hoseok defends.
Namjoon looks pointedly at Hoseok’s computer. “You’re getting sappy in there?”
Hoseok just clicks his tongue in annoyance.
“I thought that was my department.” Namjoon plucks his glasses from his nose and uses the hem of his shirt to wipe it. He doesn’t put it back on and instead places it on the table. He folds his hands on his lap and answers Hoseok just the same. “Yeah. I’d swoon.”
“You’d swoon,” Hoseok repeats back to him. “As in you. Or as in, in general?”
Namjoon leans against his back and just smiles. “I can’t answer that.”
Before Hoseok can argue further, Namjoon is standing up and making his way to his fridge. Hoseok watches as he grabs barley tea from within and begins pouring it into two glasses. Hoseok chews on his lip and decides to scrap that idea all together. Namjoon was right anyway. That was his forte, not Hoseok’s. Hoseok can make his characters swoon in other more physical ways.
“Hob-ah.” Namjoon mutters as he’s pressing the cold glass onto Hoseok’s nape.
Hoseok jumps at the sudden cold but takes the glass graciously from Namjoon. “Hm?”
“Can men scissor?”
“Hey.” Hoseok laughs this time. “I thought that was my department.”
It is. Hoseok writes more smut than Namjoon, and includes more details than Namjoon. Hoseok is more proficient in writing out sex scenes than Namjoon. He’s beginning to wonder if the trajectory of Namjoon’s new story is going too out of place.
Instead of the floor, Namjoon takes a seat on his couch. He takes a sip of his tea and stares off into space. “It is. That’s why I’m asking you. Can men scissor?”
“Um,” Hoseok hums and gives it some thought. “I don’t know if they can scissor, necessarily. I think scissoring would entail rubbing genitalia together. I don’t know if rubbing buttholes together would feel good—or even be possible. Rubbing dicks together is just frotting. The best execution would still necessitate penetration, I guess? Mimic the position of scissoring, but still have the top penetrate the bottom. Grind against each other from there. That’s my best bet.”
Hoseok merely watches Namjoon process this information. He’s quiet for the longest time, his glass of tea perspiring in his hands. Hoseok braves the question he’s dying to ask. “What direction is your new story taking?”
Namjoon’s irises travel from space to Hoseok’s face. He purses his lips. “Just experimenting with a new flavor.”
“Are you trying to venture into my genre?”
Namjoon smiles at that. “Calling someone ‘mine’ in the middle of rough sex can be considered venturing into my genre, wouldn’t you say?”
“Fair.”
After another bout of silence, Namjoon mutters, “I just don’t know if my imagination is strong enough to venture into your genre.”
It isn’t, Hoseok wants to tell him. That’s what he needs his dildo for. But Hoseok just shrugs in a non-committal response.
“Say,” Namjoon half-whispers, that same innocent look in his eyes resurfacing. “How ‘bout we try it out?”
Hoseok splutters. “Try what out?”
Namjoon just blinks at him for a moment. “You know, the position. See if it works?”
Hoseok knows what he’s being asked of, but Hoseok also does not know what he’s being asked of. So he plays it off. He clears his throat. “How’d you mean?”
Namjoon pats the space beside him, inviting Hoseok to come sit. He does just that, abandoning his work station and folding his legs beneath him as he sinks into Namjoon’s couch.
“It’d be mostly for science,” Namjoon begins. “Just so we can test out if sex positions work. I mean, it would be good for you too, I suppose? Instead of your dildo, you can just use me? I’ll make myself available for you. Always. You know that.”
Hoseok stares at Namjoon, unable to piece together that Namjoon is proposing this at all. They’ve been friends for ages, decades. And his friend is asking him to have sex? All Hoseok can bring himself to say is, “Mostly for science.”
“For science. Purely.” Namjoon substantiates with that same open, innocent look on his face, as if he was just asking Hoseok if they could eat breakfast for dinner. And like he’s convinced himself, Namjoon nods, “Yeah.”
✄
Okay, so maybe it isn’t sex per se that Namjoon wanted. He just wanted to test out logistics. This is what runs through Hoseok’s head as he lets Namjoon climb over him, as he lets Namjoon position his legs over his waist, as he lets Namjoon take up that space in between his legs.
There’s a look of concentration on Namjoon’s face, his eyes soaking up every bit of detail and curve of their bodies together. Hoseok is guessing that whatever Namjoon is seeing is satisfactory enough.
Until Namjoon draws closer and presses his crotch directly against the shape of Hoseok’s ass cheeks.
“Hm.” Namjoon looks up at Hoseok. “Is this it?”
Hoseok laughs in disbelief. “You tell me.”
“Can you lay on your back?” Namjoon suggests as he places a hand on Hoseok’s waist and guides him to do just that. Namjoon tilts his head and Hoseok can’t believe he’s seeing Namjoon from this angle. “This isn’t any different from missionary, is it?”
“No,” Hoseok laughs. “No, it isn’t.”
“Okay.” Namjoon pulls Hoseok back up to his original sitting position. He brings his hand to Hoseok’s thighs and hitches it up a little higher. He moves in closer and Hoseok swears he can feel the shape of Namjoon’s cock against him now. Namjoon looks up at him again. “And this?”
Hoseok places a hand on Namjoon’s waist and tries to roll his hips. He feels Namjoon tense against his fingertips but ignores it. “Yeah? Maybe? Maybe this is it? Just grind against each other like that?”
“Why do you sound so unsure?” Namjoon chuckles.
“Because I am unsure.” Hoseok huffs. “I’ve never tried to scissor before.”
Namjoon hums at that, his eyes raking over both their bodies again. Hoseok feels oddly watched, perceived under a microscope. He tries not to react when Namjoon slides his hand up from Hoseok’s knee to the back of his thighs, fingertips mapping out their route.
Namjoon’s eyelids flutter when he says, “I’m gonna take my pants off.”
“Off,” Hoseok mimics. “Uh. Okay? Do you…want me to take my pants off too?”
Namjoon smiles at him and Hoseok kind of wants to laugh the tension out of his chest. “Actually,” Namjoon’s hands move to the buttons of his jeans. “Can I take them off you?”
“Namjoon.” Hoseok lets himself laugh, throwing his head back. “Namjoon. It—we—this feels very ‘first time-y.’”
Namjoon’s entire body shakes with the sound of his laughter. His hands hover over Hoseok’s buttons, but doesn’t proceed further. When Namjoon says nothing to that, Hoseok leans against his hands and nods at his friend to do whatever he had just asked for.
“Okay,” Namjoon whispers as he unbuttons Hoseok’s jeans. Hoseok lets Namjoon hook his fingers into the waistband of both his pants and his boxers. Namjoon looks up at him again before continuing, “Hob-ah, I’m taking them both off.”
“Are we still scissoring or are you looking to try wheelbarrowing after this?” Hoseok blabbers.
Namjoon cracks up at that. “Both? If you let me.”
“Okay.” Hoseok nods at Namjoon and he watches his friend uncloth him. “I get to experiment on you too, right?”
“Yes,” Namjoon breathes as he pulls the rest of the material from Hoseok’s ankle. “I told you I’d make myself available to you anytime, didn’t I?”
They pause for a second as Hoseok’s legs fall open for Namjoon again. Namjoon soaks him up and Hoseok is beginning to feel self-conscious. Namjoon takes his time just looking, eyes roving around Hoseok’s cock and the angle of his hips and Hoseok already feels touched, fondled, and Namjoon hasn’t even really begun yet.
To break the tension, Hoseok says, “Can you get naked now too? Stop staring. It’s not like this is the first time you’ve seen cock.”
Namjoon obliges, getting up for a second and stepping out of his sweats before he’s positioning himself in between Hoseok’s legs again. Hoseok eyes Namjoon’s cock: the girth, the size, the veins. He’s not fully hard yet but Hoseok can already tell how big he is.
“How did you say this would go?” Namjoon bites at his lip and tilts his head, as if trying to figure out a manual. His hands find purchase on Hoseok’s waist again. “Penetration would still be involved if we scissored? Right?”
“Uh.” Hoseok reaches for his hole. “Let me prep myself real quick.”
“I want to spit on you.”
Hoseok’s eyes widen at that, “Kim Namjoon!”
The innocent look returns on Namjoon’s face. “I can’t? I don’t have lube.”
“No!” Hoseok looks at him in disbelief. “Don’t spit on me!”
A look akin to disappointment dawns on Namjoon’s face and Hoseok kind of wants to kick his friend for the sheer audacity. “You’re more of a freak that I thought you’d be. Don’t pull that kicked puppy face at me.”
“I’m not pulling any face at you,” Namjoon grumbles as he proceeds to pout. He eyes their discarded clothes and moves for his pants. “Fine, I’ll get us some lube. Hold—”
“No, you don’t have to. Just—” Hoseok exhales, the sound coming out more exasperated than he expected. He looks pointedly at Namjoon but softens up nonetheless. He cups Namjoon’s jaw and tells him, “Open up.”
That gets a quiet laugh out of Namjoon. “You bossy in bed, Hob-ah?”
Hoseok just clicks his tongue at that but watches when Namjoon does open his mouth and takes two of Hoseok’s fingers in, immediately suckling on the digits like he’s done this countless of times.
He feels Namjoon’s tongue circle around his fingers, the wet sound of his mouth echoing so loudly around the living room that it’s making Hoseok blush. Namjoon has his eyes entirely on Hoseok, like his every reaction mattered and Hoseok doesn’t want to be chicken enough to be the first to look away.
“That’s enough,” Hoseok whispers, pulling his hand free and proceeding to wet himself. He lets Namjoon watch as he inserts both fingers in, feeling around inside himself and widening his hole as much as he can. He’s never been so thankful to have masturbated before coming here than he is now.
He sees Namjoon slowly getting hard, cock stiffening and looking mighty red resting in between Namjoon’s thick thighs. Hoseok tries to ignore it, focusing on himself and trying to be quick about prepping himself for this overeager puppy.
“That should do it.” Hoseok nods at Namjoon’s massive erection. “Go ahead.”
“‘Go ahead?’” Namjoon chortles. “You’re so mechanical about these things, Hob-ah. Are you nervous?”
“No,” Hoseok says, a little too hastily. “Of course not.”
“Good,” Namjoon nods at him reassuringly, moving closer and lining his cock up against Hoseok’s hole. “Don’t be.”
Hoseok spreads his legs wider to give Namjoon more space, his hips automatically bucking against the pressure as he grinds down against Namjoon’s blunt head. Hoseok tries to bite at his lip to suppress a moan when he says, “This changes nothing between us, right?”
Hoseok can visibly see Namjoon click his jaw, but Namjoon doesn’t refute. He continues his ministrations, rubbing up against Hoseok’s hole until his cockhead is glistening with pre-come and Hoseok has the sudden urge to poke at the wetness with a finger.
There’s a certain greed in the way Namjoon moves; something in his movements is making Hoseok think that Namjoon is restraining himself, holding himself back for Hoseok’s sake.
Namjoon doesn’t say anything, only tightens his hold Hoseok’s waist as he pushes his head in and slowly feeds himself right into Hoseok’s spit-soaked hole.
It’s just the head but Hoseok gasps at the stretch. Hoseok’s hand flies to Namjoon’s shoulder to steady himself. “Just how big are you?”
Namjoon merely laughs at that, continuing to push himself until he’s halfway in before he’s pulling back out and pushing back in. There’s a furrow on Namjoon’s brow when he asks, “So like this? Are we scissoring?”
Meanwhile, Hoseok is gasping for breath. Each time Namjoon pushes back in, he goes in deeper and Hoseok can feel his friend’s cock up his stomach.
Hoseok wants to beat himself for this, he’s the one who suggested this in the first place. Only when Namjoon is fully inside him that he realizes the fault in his own thought process. Wasn’t the whole concept of scissoring devoid of penetration? And if it could include penetration, wouldn’t that mean the penetration is mutual? And if it was, as two male species, how would they physically execute it? For once, Hoseok has no answer.
“Hob-ah?” Namjoon searches Hoseok’s face for reassurance.
Hoseok tries to swallow back his moans, but realizes ultimately that he can’t. “I think,” Hoseok groans out when Namjoon’s pelvis slaps against the back of his thighs, “we’re just having sex.”
Namjoon has the gall to look even more confused. Hoseok is guessing that it’s with this newfound confusion that he decides to speed up to rectify the situation. Namjoon’s fingers squeeze at his hips before a hand is crawling to Hoseok’s lower back as he picks up his pace and Hoseok is left with all of his air punched right out of him.
“Joon—” Hoseok chokes. He clings on for dear life, both his arms involuntarily coming around to Namjoon’s shoulders and slotting himself in the crook of Namjoon’s neck. “Joon, don’t speed up!”
Namjoon doesn’t hear, or probably decides not to listen, because he seems to delight in Hoseok clinging to him so much that he manages to get in deeper and Hoseok swears he can feel Namjoon in his throat.
“Grinding, right?” Namjoon huffs and Hoseok can hear the strain of his effort in every punch of labored breath. Namjoon proceeds to put pressure on his hand resting on Hoseok’s lower back, pushing Hoseok closer to his abdomen. “Like this, then? We’re scissoring now?”
Hoseok can feel his fingertips begin to tingle, that blinding white light dotting the corners of his irises. He panics just a little bit, his orgasm coming on too early and too strongly all at once.
“Please—” Hoseok says, voice coming out shaky. “Namjoon. Slow—slow down. It’s too—”
Probably Namjoon mistakes it as Hoseok being in an uncomfortable position because instead of slowing down, he lays Hoseok flat on his back and raises both Hoseok’s legs over his head. He maintains his pace, but this time around, their angle shifts and Namjoon’s cock is bruising right up his prostate. Namjoon keeps his like that: legs over both of Namjoon’s shoulders and his head tucked into Namjoon’s neck.
He can feel himself clench around Namjoon, and can feel the effect that has on the other with the way Namjoon groans out in pleasure, squeezing Hoseok further into his hold and moaning right into his ear.
It comes up suddenly, that zap of lightning from the base of his spine. He would like to think that it’s because Namjoon is jamming right up his spot, but Hoseok isn’t too far gone to know that the way Namjoon sounds, the desperation in his thrusts, and the way his lips are mouthing against lobes of his ear is too much stimuli to keep his orgasm at bay.
The intensity of his high takes even Hoseok by surprise. He feels himself go blind for a second, entire body electrified as all nerve-endings feel fried, tasered, until they’re completely bust. When his vision comes back to him, Namjoon is finally still. But there’s a look of absolute bewilderment in his eyes as he touches Hoseok’s belly and traces the come splattered onto his torso.
Namjoon finally catches Hoseok’s eyes and Hoseok attempts to catch his breath. Namjoon begins moving again, pace now less hurried as he moves to bury his face against the space where Hoseok’s neck and shoulder meets.
“Are you good?” Namjoon asks, pulling out shallowly and pushing in to the hilt again and again. “I’m going to finish. Will you let me?”
Hoseok covers his eyes with his forearm, unable to find his voice as he lets Namjoon do as he pleases with a nod of his head.