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“Namjoon-hyung!” The boys all cheer and Namjoon feels the blood leaving his face when he sees Jimin’s mischievous expression.
They’re all in various states of drunkenness and playing dare or dare (They’d been playing truth or dare before but Hoseok had decided truths weren’t allowed anymore after Jeongguk picked it three times in a row.) cramped between an old couch and a coffee table that’s been pushed to give them some space on the floor. It’s not the first time the bottle lands on Namjoon since they started playing but it’s the first time Jimin is the one giving him the dare, and he’s learned to fear his devious mind. Jimin’s smile is nothing short of terrifying, tongue poking out of his mouth as he considers Namjoon and his options.
“I’m daring you to take a body shot out of…” He looks lazily at the other boys, tapping his chin with his index finger in a fake contemplative attitude.
“Let Joonie spin the bottle!” Hoseok interrupts. “So he has his destiny in his own hands. That’s the type of shit he likes.” Namjoon doesn’t really want to take body shot at all, destiny or not, but he has to admit he still prefers leaving the decision to his good fortune than Jimin. He tries not to look too hopeful and it seems to work because Jimin nods slowly, contemplative.
“Go on, so no one accuses me of meddling in anyone’s shit.”
Namjoon picks up the bottle and spins it, his mind chanting a prayer of not Jin-hyung not Jin-hyung please not Jin-hyung while a tinier, traitorous part of it whispers please stop on Jin-hyung.
“Jin-hyung!” Jimin stands up in celebration, arms outstretched over his head in delight. “God, I love Namjoon-hyung’s destiny. Come on hyung, shirt off!”
Taehyung and Jeongguk are already manoeuvring a shirtless Seokjin on the coffee table and Namjoon, mind blank, takes the tiny lime wedge Yoongi is pushing in his hand without even looking at it.
“Oooh, you're so lucky,” Coos Jimin. Namjoon eyes are fixed on Seokjin’s chest. He can't really disagree. “Yoongi-hyung is giving you some of his precious sweet lemon!”
“Better make that enjoyable,” Yoongi says with a smile that could rival Jimin's demonic one. “Be my guest, Namjoon.”
“Is there a shot glass anywhere?” Namjoon says in lieu of answer. Jimin's eyes glisten and Namjoon suddenly feels very scared. Seokjin is muttering something about being all sticky from where he lays on the table and it really doesn't help calm his nerves.
“Body shots with glasses are the way of cowards hyung,” He bends to grab the tequila bottle and wobbles a little on his legs when he stands up. “And mama raised no coward.” He says, tipping the bottle so a splash of alcohol fall on Seokjin’s stomach. Seokjin yelps indignantly and Jimin messily pats his naked shoulder. “Don't squirm that much or Namjoon-hyung won't have anything to drink at all.”
Namjoon contemplates the scene in front of him, feeling like he's out of his body. The whole thing gives of a weird Christian painting vibe, Seokjin a much prettier Jesus, Hoseok (A gayer, intoxicated replica of Mary.) cradling his head and the other four at his feet, all but Seokjin looking up at him like he's about to deliver some holy revelation.
“Hyung, open up.” Hoseok says almost tenderly, his thumb pushing on Seokjin’s chin. His lips close up a little around Namjoon's fingers when he places the wedge between them. He thinks he hears Jeongguk clapping slowly behind his back.
“Where do you want the salt?” Yoongi asks, amusement clear in his voice. Namjoon's eyes snap from Seokjin’s lips to his body and he grimaces without wanting to. Is there such a thing as a platonic place to put salt on someone's body to lick, especially when you've been in love with that exact somebody for years already? He flaps his hand uselessly in the general direction of Seokjin’s upper body: wherever it is, he knows he’ll be thinking about it for the rest of his life. “Okay,” Yoongi says when he realises he won't get any answer. “You're supposed to lick the skin before so the salt stick to it though.”
“I don't think it's very important since I'm laying down and all,” Seokjin interrupts, slurring a little around the lemon. Yoongi looks unhappy but he nods.
Namjoon kneels next to Seokjin. “Are you alright with that, hyung?” He asks nervously. As much as Jimin is enjoying the show he knows he wouldn't force it to happen if one of them clearly opposed to it. He's not sure if he wants Seokjin to tell him to stop of to keep going.
“Yeah,” Seokjin says, sounding strained even around the mouthful of lemon. “Proceed with that dare, Namjoonie.” He doesn't look away from the ceiling above himself.
Namjoon leans over his collarbone (God, of all the places Yoongi could have put the salt on. That boy wants him dead.) and he hesitates a little, open mouth hovering over Seokjin. Goosebumps erupt where his breath hits skin.
The other guys are silent at least, a quiet choir of church boys avidly watching something they thought was forbidden. The tip of Namjoon’s tongue touches Seokjin’s skin and he sees his stomach rising in shock, hears a soft intake of breath.
He'd wanted (He had promised to himself) to get that show over with in a mechanical way but it turns out impossible to do anything but to lick slowly, appreciating Seokjin’s softness and the light taste of sweat under the overpowering taste of salt. He's glad he can't see Seokjin’s face; he would have lost what little confidence he has if he'd been facing him. He crawls on his knees to lap at what little alcohol is still clinging to his abs, gently glistening under the subdued light of Taehyung’s flat, and he could swear he hears Seokjin whimpering softly.
Seokjin’s stomach rises when Namjoon leans back like it's trying to follow his tongue and the thought only burns into his mind. He presses his hand in the soft skin of Seokjin’s hip (He'd promised himself he wouldn't touch.) and his tongue returns to the hollow next to his hip bone, mouth closing around it for one amazing, delirious second. He laps up his stomach, up his chest where there isn't even any alcohol to lap at and stops himself before burying in Seokjin’s neck, feeling ridiculous suddenly. It's not sex, he remembers, it's a body shot. It's not supposed to be more intimate than two drunk guys licking each others under their dumb friends eyes. He looks up at Seokjin’s face, jaw so tight it's a wonder he hasn't teared the lemon in two. His cheeks are redder than Namjoon has ever seen them, his eyes unfocused (Alcohol? Arousal? Simple fuzziness because his pride always stops him from wearing his glasses during parties?) and Namjoon tightens his grip on his hip without thinking.
Juice drips for the wedge onto Seokjin’s lips when Namjoon bites in it. He's pretty sure their bottom lips are touching and it shouldn't be so hot? But he's hovering over Seokjin’s naked torso and his hand is wrapped around his hip and lemon juice is dripping from Namjoon's mouth to Seokjin’s and he's pretty sure their lips are touching. It's definitely the hottest thing that ever happened to him.
He stays there for a second, unable to think until Seokjin pushes at his shoulder, spitting the lemon on the floor (Ew, hyung, that's disgusting. Taehyung says from somewhere far away.) and taking his hand as he stands. He looks far more intoxicated than Namjoon thought he was and leads them to the bathroom in three quick steps. he cages Namjoon against the door the second it’s closed, tangling his hands in his hair. He looks almost mad; it shouldn’t turn Namjoon on but it does. He’s been turned on since Seokjin took off his shirt, anyway.
“Fucking Jimin,” Seokjin says, licking his lips. “I would have killed him if that fucking bottle hadn’t landed on me.” And then he’s kissing Namjoon. His mouth tastes bitter from biting into the lemon peel for so long and he’s pressing into him with insistence (With despair?), Namjoon’s shirt clinging to the still wet skin of his stomach. Namjoon’s hands found his hips again, fingers digging into his skin and Seokjin whines, bites at his bottom lip and turns them around until he’s the one back to the door. He pushes Namjoon hard enough that he stumbles backwards a couple of step, confused as ever.
Seokjin is leaning against the door, hip cocked on one side. he manages to look down at Namjoon while being smaller than him. Namjoon can’t do anything but stare when Seokjin pokes at his own navel and grimaces at how sticky it feels.
“Come on, now,” He says, imperious. “You better clean the mess you made there.” Namjoon drops to his knees without any second thought.
He licks at the soft skin of Seokjin’s stomach until there’s not a hint of tequila’s taste clinging to him anymore, looks up when he reaches to the fly of his jeans only to find Seokjin with his head against the door, eyes closed and lips parted. A soft hand tangle in his hair once again, encouraging him to keep going. Namjoon tugs the clothes down and the grip in his hair tighten accidentally. It takes him a full second to realizes the moan that resonates in the room is his own and he’s so embarrassed when he does that the takes Seokjin’s cock in his mouth instantly just to keep quiet. Seokjin groans above him, a soft whispered fuck that ignites his nerves. He wraps his hand around the base of Seokjin’s dick and pumps with no finesse, doing his best to slide his lips as far as he can. Seokjin’s second hand joins the first one in his head, more to anchor himself than anything else, but it encourages Namjoon to keep going, to keep working his jaw as hard as he can. He’s too far gone for a simple blowjob, has been since the first second his tongue had connected to the skin of Seokjin’s beautiful collarbone. He slides off Seokjin’s dick, concentrates on sucking hard on the tip (God, the noises, he’ll be so embarrassed about them tomorrow.) and Seokjin’s hips jerk feebly in his direction. Namjoon, he says, the warning evident in his tone, in the way his hands tug in his hair and then fuck when it becomes clear Namjoon isn’t pulling out and then fuck, fuck again when he comes, collapsing against the door fully. His eyes are still closed, his lips still parted and he beckons Namjoon to stand up with a movement of his wrist, buries his face in Namjoon’s neck as soon as he does so.
His hand finds its way down Namjoon’s pants but more than the careful touch it’s the feeling of Seokjin’s lips on his neck that makes him tip over, hands wrapped hard around his hips again. His hand keeps wrapped around his dick, just shy of too sensitive.
“Be my boyfriend,” He says in the crook of Namjoon’s neck. He sounds weirdly nervous for someone who just got their dick sucked and Namjoon can’t help but laugh. He places a quick kiss on Seokjin’s lips when he looks up at him, indignant.
“Of course, hyung.”