Yoongi pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closing. “Joon-ah,” he breathes out.
“No,” Namjoon cuts him off more sharply than he’d intended. He’s sitting on the plush sofa in Yoongi’s studio, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. Yoongi’s in his three thousand dollar rolling chair, his giant headphones around his neck, the screen behind him glowing with beats that he paused when Namjoon burst into the room fifteen minutes ago. It’s late, probably too late at night to be having this conversation, but Namjoon’s been a wreck for most of the week, so here he is. “We have to talk about this.”
“We have talked about this three times,” Yoongi tells him. “This is, in fact, the fourth time we are talking about this.”
Yoongi’s right, mostly, but also they have not talked about this enough and Namjoon doesn’t understand how Yoongi is so calm about this whole situation. Maybe it’s because Namjoon’s been hiding from him since Thursday. Thursday was… an issue Namjoon hadn’t been ready to deal with until now. “Right, okay, but still, I just need to make sure -”
Namjoon is cut off by a knock on the studio door.
“Yah, you know the code, just come in,” Yoongi yells without even checking to see who it is, his gaze fixed firmly on Namjoon’s face. Namjoon’s stomach swoops.
“You didn’t,” he says, and Yoongi just smirks at him.
“Sorry, I didn’t want to interrupt if you were, you know,” Taehyung says from the doorway. He doesn’t say it like ‘if you were, you know, doing musical genius things’; more like ‘if you were, you know, naked on the sofa with your boyfriend,’ and the swooping feeling in Namjoon’s stomach intensifies.
Taehyung blinks at Namjoon and then at Yoongi who leans back in his chair, still smirking. “I texted him the second you stormed in here with your Serious Talk Face. If you are going to force me to have this conversation again, I figured it would be best to have all parties involved.”
Namjoon looks up at Taehyung, still standing inside the now-closed door. He’s in black, silky sleep pants and a loose-fitting pajama top with a delicate bird print. His hair is mussed like he just rolled out of bed. Namjoon gets the idea that he had, that Yoongi had texted him to come to the studio right now, clearly noting that Namjoon was also here, and Taehyung had just rolled out of bed and come over with no hesitation. Taehyung meets his gaze head on, no coyness, not even a blush. The only sign of uncertainty is the way he’s worrying his lower lip between his teeth. Namjoon’s palms start to sweat.
“What’s up, Tae?” Namjoon asks. He has this horrible run-on thought of Did Tae tell him? What did Tae tell him? Tae promised he’d let me tell him. and then feels like an asshole for asking Taehyung to keep his fucking secrets in the first place.
Taehyung ignores him and looks at Yoongi. Or, at Yoongi’s shoulder; he’s not quite been meeting Yoongi’s eyes lately either. “Yoongi-hyung, if you and Namjoon-hyung need more time to -”
“Nope, sit,” Yoongi tells him, pointing to the spot next to Namjoon on the sofa. Taehyung sits close enough that Namjoon can feel the heat of his body, but not so close that they’re touching anywhere. Namjoon hates that he notices that, hates that it makes his skin prickle, hates why it makes his skin prickle. The stomach swoops are like a tiny cyclone now and Namjoon curls his hands over his knees to keep them from shaking. Yoongi leans forward again, his silver hair flopping against his forehead. “Taehyung, my boyfriend was explaining to me for the fourth time that even though we had all agreed -”
“I think you need to talk to Namjoon-hyung some more,” Taehyung interrupts and Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut. “Sorry, Joon-ah,” he adds softly. “But you need to tell him.”
“Tell me what? Joon...” Yoongi’s voice is flat and gravelly, not angry but not gentle either.
“We made out. On Thursday. Me and Tae.” He blinks his eyes open and Yoongi is looking right at him, his eyebrows raised in surprise.
“Oh,” he says, eyes flitting over to Taehyung. Namjoon glances over too, and Tae is blushing now, just a trace of pink on his cheeks as he stares down at his lap.
“It was… not good,” Taehyung manages, and Yoongi’s eyebrows go up almost to his hairline.
“You didn’t… like it?” Yoongi guesses, frowning a little at Namjoon, and Namjoon can’t help it - he laughs, a short, hard bark that makes Taehyung flinch.
He looks over at Taehyung, suddenly worried that there was a lot more left unsaid than he’d feared. “No, that’s. Liking it wasn’t the issue. I liked it. Tae,” he waits until Taehyung looks up at him. “I really, really liked it.”
Taehyung’s smile is more like a grimace. “You really, really freaked out,” he murmurs.
“I really, really did,” he admits with a sigh, scrubbing a hand over his face. Yoongi is openly gaping at them now, his bow mouth open in surprise.
“Joon, you’re the one who wanted -”
“I know,” Namjoon sighs.
“It was your idea to -”
“Yup,” Namjoon agrees, nodding.
“We spent a month talking about -”
“You’re not wrong,” Namjoon tells him, and Taehyung starts to laugh next to him on the sofa, hard enough that his shoulders shake.
“Oh no, this explains so much,” he grits out, still wheezing, as Namjoon and Yoongi both turn to stare at him. “Did you ever actually finish a sentence when you ‘talked about this’?” he asks, his fingers doing air quotes on the last bit.
“Of course we did,” Namjoon huffs, offended, but when he looks at Yoongi for solidarity, he finds that Yoongi’s lips are pressed together.
“I mean, we did, but… you freaked out?”
“Yeah,” Namjoon deflates.
“How far did you -”
“Kissing. We kissed, and then it was, you know. Shirtless kissing?”
“And then I touched his dick,” Taehyung continues helpfully, “And I thought he was into it -”
“I was,” Namjoon reassures him. He’d been thinking about it for a long time. He can feel the ghost of Tae’s big hands all over his skin.
“And then he called me baby and tried to take it back and apologized for trying to take it back, and then he cried a little and then he fled the room.”
“Oh, Joonie,” Yoongi says, and he’s breathless, like he’s trying not to laugh.
In lieu of looking at either of the boys in the room, Namjoon leans back into the sofa cushions and stares at the ceiling. “I might be having some feelings.”
Yoongi snorts. “I know you have feelings for Tae,” he says plainly, and Namjoon exhales. Yoongi knows him better than anyone. Yoongi knows him better than he knows himself some days.
“Yeah,” Namjoon admits. He’s answering Yoongi, but he looks over at Taehyung, trying to make sure the message isn’t get lost on the other end of the sofa.
“Do you want to break up with me to be with Tae?” Yoongi asks, his face impassive.
Namjoon’s already asked and answered this question in all three prior conversations; this time his quiet “No” is overshadowed by Taehyung’s “No, please,” his eyes wide and panicked. Namjoon reaches out to squeeze his hand.
“You holding up okay, kid?” Yoongi asks. “Shit’s getting really real in here.” Taehyung pulls one leg up on the sofa, wraps his arms around it, and rests his chin on his knee. Namjoon reaches over to curl his fingers around Taehyung’s ankle. Namjoon loves the contrast between the blush on Tae’s cheeks and the stubborn set of his jaw. Namjoon loves a million contrasts in Taehyung - he’s messy and meticulous, serious and silly, adorable and super, super hot.
“You want to go, or stay?” Namjoon asks him, because Taehyung probably didn’t… but of course he did. He talked about this with both of them weeks ago, and he knows what happened Thursday; he came over here when Yoongi texted pretty much exclusively to get Namjoon to fucking talk about it. Taehyung signed up for this. Taehyung isn’t a kid anymore. Taehyung is a grown man who can make his own decisions. That’s sort of the crux of this whole fucking disaster.
“I want to stay,” he answers, his voice a low rasp. He’s looking right at Namjoon, and it’s Namjoon’s turn to blush.
Yoongi leans back in his hair, scrubbing his hands over his face. Namjoon knows that’s code for Big Emotional Reveal Imminent; he knows Yoongi too. “It’s… better, for me, that you have feelings for Tae. I don’t like the idea of a stranger with his hands on you.”
Namjoon glances over at Taehyung, who is watching them intently. He still feels pulled in two directions, but less like it’s going to break him in half. “It felt like cheating. With Tae. I know you said it was fine, but it felt like you were giving in because you think you’re not enough for me. That we’re not enough.”
“I think that in one very specific way, I’m not enough,” Yoongi shrugs. “You want to have sex, a lot of it, all the time. And I’m never going to be able to be a person who can give that to you. But I want you to have what you want, Joon-ah,” he adds, winking at Taehyung. Tae scrunches up his nose. “I’m not losing anything in this deal, okay?”
“Right, I know,” Namjoon nods, but he’s feeling this bubble of frustration in his chest. They talked about this, about Namjoon’s wants, and Yoongi’s wants, and then Taehyung’s wants (which, amazingly, insanely, included Namjoon) and it should be fine. It should all have been fine, and Namjoon’s stupid brain is fucking it all up.
“Hey,” Yoongi reaches out and curls his hand around Namjoon’s knee. “Would you feel better if I was there?”
Namjoon sits bolt upright. Yoongi’s half-laughing at him again.
“If you were… where?” he asks, because that cannot be what Yoongi is suggesting.
“If I was there when you and Tae got down and dirty,” Yoongi says, his eyes still sparkling but his voice soft and serious. “Did the deed. Made the beast with two -”
“Are you both trying to fucking kill me?” Taehyung mutters, his face now buried in his knee, and Yoongi reaches out to ruffle his hair.
“It won’t feel like cheating if I’m in the room, right?” Yoongi says with grin, and Namjoon has to admit that… no, it will not feel like cheating if he hooks up with Taehyung while Yoongi is in the room. His skin feels hot. He can feel his pulse in his palms. Taehyung is centimeters away, peeking out at them both with wide eyes.
“I mean, um,” Namjoon manages, “that would be. Okay. With me. If it’s okay with Tae?”
Taehyung blinks twice before giving them a thumbs up, and Namjoon can’t help it - he laughs. It’s a little hysterical, maybe, but the flood of relief running through his body is crashing into the hot, itchy, horny feeling that’s crawling down his spine. He laughs so hard there are tears in the corner of his eyes.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, can you deal with this guy?” Yoongi rolls his eyes at Taehyung. “I’m going to try to get some actual work done.”
“Wait, now?” Taehyung’s voice breaks a little and Namjoon laughs harder.
“If you’re going to take your pants off, put the blanket down. No bare asses on my sofa. Joonie knows the rules,” Yoongi says, his smile sharp, before turning his chair around and pulling his headphones back onto his ears.
Taehyung swings his gaze back to Namjoon. “Is that -” he starts but Namjoon is still giggling madly and Tae rolls his eyes. “You’re both so weird,” he sighs, but then he’s unfolding himself from the corner of the sofa, moving fast enough that Namjoon isn’t sure what’s happening until he’s got Tae in his lap, his strong thighs boxing in Namjoon’s hips. “Hi Joon-hyung,” he says. His mouth is close enough for Namjoon to kiss, so he does.
They did this on Thursday, Namjoon’s fingers tangled in Taehyung’s hair, their tongues dancing. But this time the background noise isn’t Jin’s video game sounds through the bedroom wall, it’s Yoongi humming lowly, his fingers clicking on his keyboard. Namjoon groans and Taehyung swallows the sound down, his hands curling around Namjoon’s jaw, tipping his head back and pushing for more. Taehyung is heavy across his lap, his body wide and strong and insistent. Namjoon slips his hands up the back of Tae’s shirt and the muscles in his back jump under Namjoon’s hands, his hips pushing down into Namjoon’s lap. It doesn’t take long before they’re both half-hard, panting into each other’s mouths. When Taehyung breaks away from their kissing to suck hard on the side of his neck, Namjoon can see Yoongi over Tae’s shoulder. He’s staring at his screen, foot tapping to the beat against the leg of his desk, the set of his shoulders relaxed. He’s not watching them, but he’s there and Namjoon tips his head back to give Taehyung better access, his fingers skating along the waist of Tae’s pajama pants. Taehyung freezes, his nose pressed to Namjoon’s clavicle. “You want to try this again?” Namjoon murmurs, kissing the side of his head.
“You’re the one who freaked out, hyung,” Taehyung says, and Namjoon sighs.
“Thank you for reminding me,” he says. “Is that a no?”
“No but, um,” Taehyung leans back, his hands sliding down Namjoon’s chest. “Can I - I thought both of us this time?” He slowly pulls the tie-waist of Namjoon’s sweatpants undone, and Namjoon arches up without even meaning too, chasing the idea of Taehyung’s fingers. “Is that a yes, hyung?” he asks, grinning down, and Namjoon wants to kiss the smug look right off his face.
“We should lie down and you can stop with the hyung now,” he says instead, tipping Taehyung sideways onto the sofa.
Namjoon’s hands are already hooked into the waist of Taehyung’s pants when Taehyung gasps “Blanket!” Namjoon groans but he gets up, pulling Taehyung to his feet next to him. He grabs Yoongi’s favorite blanket, a black and red checked thing that’s traveled from studio to studio through the years, and tosses it down on the couch. Yoongi still isn’t looking at them, but he gives a thumbs up over his shoulder and Namjoon leans over to kiss the top of his head. Yoongi smiles at his monitor. When Namjoon turns around, Tae is smiling at them, a small, sweet thing that makes Namjoon’s heart feel too big for his chest.
Namjoon smiles back at him. “You still good?” he asks, reaching out and curling his hand around Taehyung’s waist.
“Mmmhmm,” Taehyung hums, swaying forward and kissing Namjoon again. It’s strange, Namjoon thinks, kissing someone who is nearly his height. It’s novel, and it’s nice, and they kiss for a long minute before Taehyung tucks his fingers in Namjoon’s sweatpants and shoves them down his hips. Namjoon gasps into his mouth as his dick snags on the waistband before bobbing free, and Taehyung laughs.
“Oh, very funny,” Namjoon says, and Taehyung just hooks his fingers in his own waistband and shoves them down in response. “Oh,” he manages, and Taehyung takes advantage of Namjoon’s distraction by planting a hand in the middle of his chest and pushing him back onto the couch, the blanket soft under his bare ass. Taehyung steps out of his pants and pulls his shirt off without bothering with the buttons, and suddenly he’s standing in front of Namjoon stark naked, his dick hanging hard and heavy between his thighs. Namjoon cannot believe how gorgeous he is. “Yoongi, are you seeing this?” he says, just loud enough that he knows he can be heard over Yoongi’s headphones.
“Stop bothering me, you perv,” Yoongi calls back, but he sneaks a peek over his shoulder and Namjoon laughs. “Your ass is gorgeous, Tae-Tae,” he says, eyes fixed back on his work.
“Thank you, ” Taehyung replies, delighted.
“C’mere,” Namjoon curls his fingers around the back of Taehyung’s thick thigh and pulls him into back into his lap. Taehyung wastes no time pulling Namjoon’s t-shirt up and over his head. They’re naked, pressed together nearly everywhere, and when Namjoon reaches down to wrap a hand around Taehyung’s dick, he finds Tae’s hand already there. “Both of us, huh?” Namjoon asks, their dicks pressing together between tangled fingers.
“God, you’re so fucking hot,” Taehyung whispers into the shrinking space between them before they’re kissing again, sloppy and wet this time, both of them distracted by the push-and-pull of their hands. Taehyung has always had beautiful hips - watching him dance has brought Namjoon hours of joy and unwelcome boners - so Namjoon should have been prepared for the way Taehyung writhes in his lap, his hips never slowing down as they jerk each other off. But he’s not used to the sounds Taehyung makes, mewls and gasps against his lips, growls low in his throat whenever Namjoon tightens his grip. They make Namjoon wonder if he can make Taehyung snap, if he can push far enough that Taehyung would push back, would wrap his strong fingers around Namjoon’s throat, would push him face down into Yoongi’s favorite blanket and take what he wants, his body a heavy weight across Namjoon’s from his shoulders to his toes. The thought of it alone is enough to bring Namjoon right to the edge and when he tries to pull back, to slow down the orgasm he can feel cascading toward him, Taehyung growls again and bites down on Namjoon’s shoulder, hard. Namjoon is shaking apart almost before the spark of pain reaches his brain.
“Oh my god, oh fuck,” he gasps, his nose pressed uncomfortably into Taehyung’s temple.
Taehyung groans, his hand abandoning Namjoon’s dick to grab his own, pushing Namjoon’s useless fingers away and jerking himself off in long hard strokes. “Fuck, Namjoon , I want -”
“Yeah, yes,” Namjoon slurs, because it seems pretty petty to deny Taehyung anything he wants right now.
Taehyung sucks in a harsh breath and then he’s rising fully onto his knees, cold air rushing into the space between their bodies and making Namjoon jolt with surprise. “What -” he starts, but Taehyung’s fingers are in his hair, tugging hard until Namjoon is forced to tip his head all the way back. Taehyung’s grip tightens as his arm moves faster, his hips nearly flush with the center of Namjoon’s chest. He’s going to come on my throat, Namjoon thinks, a moment before Taehyung does just that, hot stripes hitting him from his chin down to his nipples.
Taehyung takes two stuttering breaths before he’s collapsing, his face tucked into Namjoon’s neck. His fingers go slack in Namjoon’s hair but stay there, petting him with soft, uncoordinated fingers. “Tae,” Namjoon manages, and his voice sounds unfamiliar, stretched taut and thin like the long, exposed line of his throat a moment earlier. Taehyung presses closer.
“Was that -”
“Good,” Namjoon reassures him. “That was definitely good.”
They both startle a moment later when a water bottle appears at Namjoon’s elbow. “Drink all of it,” Yoongi tells Namjoon. He’s squatting next to the sofa, his gaze fond. “Got one for you too, you overachiever,” he says to Taehyung, handing him a second bottle. He kisses the top of Tae’s head as he stands up, and Taehyung giggles into Namjoon’s neck. Taehyung and Namjoon slowly unfold from each other and clean up. Yoongi doesn’t make them move any faster than they need to, handing them tissues and picking up their clothes.
“You get any work done, hyung?” Taehyung asks, pulling on his silky pajama top.
“Some. You don’t mind if I use a little bit of audio from tonight in my next song, right?” he asks, straightfaced. Taehyung laughs, but Namjoon can read Yoongi better than anyone alive.
Yoongi shrugs and grins in a way that means Maybe I did and maybe I didn’t and I am never telling you. “I could just fold it into a bass beat, no one would ever know but me.”
Namjoon hates that his blush is only mostly from embarrassment. Taehyung just laughs harder.
“Okay, bedtime,” Yoongi announces, turning off his monitor and picking up his travel coffee mug to take back to the kitchen in the residence. “Who’s taking care of my favorite blanket?” he asks pointedly, looking back at the couch.
“Oh, I’ll get it, hyung,” Taehyung volunteers. “I’ll just drop in my bin and hand it off to Jungkookie in the morning.”
“You’re a sneaky little shit, Kim Taehyung, and I like it,” Yoongi nods in approval.
Namjoon follows them out, turning off the lights behind him. He watches them walk together down the studio hallway, Yoongi’s arm slung low around Taehyung’s waist, and he wants, and then he smiles softly to himself because, amazingly, they do too.