Namjoon hates his father's shiny new family, especially his younger stepbrother Jungkook. Too perfect not to hate, too hot not to want. What happens when they have the house to themselves?
It was a Saturday afternoon and for the first time in the two years since he'd moved in with his father to be closer to his chosen university, Namjoon had the house to himself. He never thought, back when he'd been an introverted only child living with his hard-working single mother, that he'd miss the quiet so complete every footfall on the stairs echoed hollowly off the walls. He never thought as an awkward, achingly lonely teen that he'd miss solitude.
God, it was heaven though. No childish laughter as his younger half-siblings tore through the house like tiny hurricanes. The absence of his new stepmother's usually pleasant voice shouting after the twin terrors with harried exasperation. His father's deep voice booming authoritatively from the study he retreated to almost every night (even though it was his compulsive work ethic, physical withdrawal and emotional absence that had slowly poisoned his first marriage) insisting the two girls listen to their mother. No Jungkook.
Effortless Jungkook who made everything seem easy. Shy, reserved Jungkook who still managed to be wildly popular. Polite, considerate Jungkook that left adults fawning. Handsome, sensual Jungkook that had panties dropping. Sweet, modest Jungkook who hid a sinfully muscular body behind baggy clothes and a deceptively cute smile. Jungkook who dominated Namjoon's every waking thought and drove him to distraction. Jungkook who was blissfully unaware of the affect he had on him.
Finally, it felt like he could breathe. He didn't have to squeeze himself into the mould that had been built for him for as long as he could remember. Bookish, quiet Namjoon. Respectful, hardworking Namjoon. Get good grades. Get into the right school. Become a doctor, a lawyer, an engineer, a professor, a physicist. It all amounted to the same message. Keep your head down. Keep your feet on the ground and your head out of the clouds. Draw inside the lines. Don't make waves.
How many times had he heard that his music was a hobby, not a career? So, he'd taken those dreams and set them aside. He stopped nurturing that sliver of hope and buckled down. He'd been the obedient son, the dutiful student. But they just wouldn't wither and die, no matter how he neglected them. And slowly, parts of the real Namjoon began to slip through the cracks.
And it had all started with Jungkook.
He remembered the exact moment he'd stopped viewing the younger boy as just an annoying kid who lived with his father. A part of the bubble of resentment he had for the new, better family his father had found while Namjoon and his mother languished in poverty, exhaustion and misery. He was too perfect not to hate. Too good at everything Namjoon had to struggle to achieve. Too pretty, too popular, too nice, too sincere, too loved. He made Namjoon sick with envy.
And one day seventeen year old Namjoon been in the kitchen of his father's shiny new house, surrounded by his shiny new family, trying not to overtly clench his jaw while the impossibly perfect Jungkook regaled them with the tale of his latest accomplishment. His fingers twitched with the effort it took not to curl into tight, angry fists and plough into Jungkook's toothpaste smile, cut up those pretty doll lips against those cute bunny teeth. His eyes had narrowed on the younger boy's mouth and God, he wanted to hurt him, punish him for being everything Namjoon wasn't.
Because there had been something else he was hiding from his stern, unyielding father and already exhausted and overwhelmed mother. Another way he failed to live up to their ridiculously high standards. And as he stared at Jungkook, jealousy and rage crawling beneath his skin like ants, he'd become aware of just how handsome the boy actually was. How wide and pretty his dark eyes were. How high and symmetrical his cheekbones were. How smooth his jawline was. How naturally pink his lips were. He noticed the perfect cupids bow of the top lip, the pouty fullness of the lower. Even his nose, which should have been too big, too wide, seemed in perfect proportion. And Namjoon's hormone-flooded teenage body had added lust to the already volatile feelings he harboured for him.
That night he'd cum harder than he ever had before, biting his lips so hard they'd bled, choking back his lewd grunts and moans as his stepbrother slumbered peacefully in the bed across from him.
In the two years that followed, Namjoon's rage had mellowed to a grudging miserable acceptance of his role peppered with occasional spikes of resentment. His relationship with Jungkook, once fraught with raw, unfocused feelings of hatred, envy, desire and reluctant admiration had developed into dark, sexual obsession, rigidly controlled, desperately hidden behind thinly veiled scorn. After numerous attempts to befriend the elder boy, Jungkook had taken to reciprocating in kind. Until the two couldn't be in the same room without snarking at each other.
His feelings for Jungkook had been the first crack in the mould. Over the next few years he'd indulged in more and more frequent acts of secret rebellion, doing his best to escape the suffocating box he'd been forced into if only for a moment. Thought became fantasy became deed. And what had started that night with furtive, shameful touches in the dark had branched out until he was sneaking out of the house in dark, oversized hoodies that hid titanium and ink beneath, to underground raves where he spun his music on turntables for the sweating, writhing masses.
While men and women alike threw themselves at the aloof RM, they invariably left dissatisfied. For none of them could compare to the perfection of Jungkook. No one could stir him, tempt him, as the younger man did. And so, his body remained paradoxically chaste even as his thoughts grew more depraved.
He was in the living room, lounging on the couch, laptop resting on his abdomen, studio quality headphones blasting his latest creation when he thought he saw a flicker of movement from the corner of his eye. He sat up a little straighter, lifting the cushioned earpad away from his head to listen intently. Met with nothing but silence, he shrugged and sank back down into a comfortable slouch, losing himself in the music.
When his back started to ache, Namjoon finally straightened, setting his laptop on the coffee table and stretching, arms over head until he felt the satisfying pop of his vertebrae. Sighing, he shuffled to the fridge. He opened it, peered inside, lazily slid his hand under his faded London Calling t-shirt to scratch his chest, didn't see anything appealing and shut it again. Still bored and a little restless, he made his way upstairs toward the bathroom. He froze and cocked his head when he thought he heard a muffled thump, but a moment later, their black and white cat, Mittens, emerged from the hall and he laughed softly to himself at his jumpiness. He bent down to stroke down her arched back a few times and scratched behind her ears before she meandered away, tail sashaying behind her.
Humming to himself he turned on the shower and stuck a hand beneath the stream, testing the waters. When it reached a satisfactory temperature, he shucked off his clothes and entered the frosted glass stall. He took his time, enjoying the warm spray of water on his cramped muscles. He really had to stop slumping over his computer, it wasn't doing his back any favours. He scolded himself as he soaped up the shower puff and ran it over his body leisurely. He took care not to catch the barbells pushed through his small, dark nipples and curved into his navel in the white netting. Even though the piercings were fully healed, he'd learned just how painful a sudden yank on the metal could be. Although, he mused idly, as he gave the titanium on his left nipple a little flick, sometimes the pain wasn't altogether unwelcome.
He briefly considered indulging in a quick wank in the shower, then decided it would be a waste of an empty house. He so very rarely got to play with his toys.
He finished rinsing quickly, running his hands down his limbs to remove excess water before stepping out onto the mat and roughly drying himself. He wrapped the towel around his hips and stood before the mirror, hand sliding down his jaw as he eyed himself curiously. It was so very rarely he got to actually see himself with his piercings in. The silver hoops in his snakebites glinted in the light as do the small balls on the horseshoe through his septum. He grinned, his dimples flashing. The only time he can truly stand his reflection is when it's augmented with steel. He only wishes his silver, almost purple hair was styled the way he liked it, instead of limp on his forehead. He ran a hand through its shaggy length, almost posing and grinned again. Better. A little eyeliner and a collar and it'd be just right. But they were in the room he still shared with Jungkook.
What the hell. He decided. He had the place to himself. He might as well live a little. He might even grab a few of the beers his father kept in the fridge, get a little loose before indulging in a rare extended play session. On Jungkook's bed. His grin turned wicked at the thought.
He didn't think twice when he opened the door. After all, no one was supposed to be home. His father and stepmother had gone away for a romantic weekend. The twins were at their aunt's. And Jungkook was at his dad's.
Or at least, he was supposed to be.
Except that he wasn't. He was inexplicably here, in their room, on the bed, half naked with a girl straddling his hips. He couldn't see her face because it was buried in the crook of his neck as she panted softly. He froze, his hand on the door. Jungkook froze, his hands on the girl's hips. The girl gave a startled squeak and tried her best to cover herself with her hands.
Namjoon barely noticed her, his eyes on Jungkook, taking in the thick corded muscle of his thighs, the sculpted definition of his abdomen, the swell of his pecs, the curve of deltoid into bicep, the almost delicate slope of his collarbones. He licked his lips, couldn't help it. No one should look that good. It wasn't fair. And when he finally reached his face, he saw his stepbrother's eyes locked on his chest, blown wide with astonishment and he remembered his own state of undress. The Herman Hesse quote inked across his ribs, the first bars of the first song he produced immortalised on his right hip, peeking above the towel, the crow tit in flight over his left pec, the piercings. He flushed with embarrassment.
"Sorry." He muttered and closed the door again. Even though it was his room and no one was supposed to be home. Even though he was now naked in the hallway, but for the towel on his hips and all his clothes lie beyond the closed door. Shit. He was going to have to go back in there.
His hand lifted, hesitated. He really doesn't want to. He might fantasize about Jungkook, but he wasn't ready for the boy to see him like this. Wasn't ready for him to see the real Namjoon, rather than the comforting lie. He let out a breath, screwed up his courage and knocked politely.
It is only in that moment of silence between knock and answer that Namjoon realises the reason he'd gotten such an unhindered view is because they'd been on the bed opposite the door. On his bed. He didn't have time to dwell on it.
Jungkook's voice was strained and hoarse when he snapped, "What?"
"I, uh, I need clothes." Namjoon called back sheepishly.
There's a long pause, the sound of bed springs, the low murmur of voices and finally, after an age, Jungkook is standing at the door in basketball shorts. Beyond him, Namjoon's bed is empty. He would almost think he imagined the whole thing if his pillow didn't still bear the imprint of Jungkook's head. He looked away in discomfort, only to rest his gaze on Guk's pelvis and the residual blush colouring his cheeks returns full force. Namjoon could see the tent of his erection through the loose fabric. He finally settles for looking somewhere between the guilty boy and the guilty bed. Barely looking at him, Jungkook shoves a bundle of mismatched clothes into his arms. He mumbles a thanks to the already closed door.
He was in the kitchen, nursing a beer at the table when the girl, now fully dressed, dashed past him. He raised his brows in when Jungkook strode down the stairs a few minutes later.
"She seemed to leave in a hurry. Hope I didn't interrupt anything... important."
In return, his younger stepsibling scowled.
"Why are you home?" He asked instead of answering and Joon raised his brows higher at the accusatory tone.
"I could ask you the same thing. Aren't you supposed to be at your dad's?" He fired back.
"He cancelled." Then almost to himself. "Has been ever since he met Allie." Namjoon almost empathised with him. "And what's with all that. You emo now or something?" Almost.
"Emo? Really?" He scoffed.
"Then what? Perfect little Namjoonie being a bad boy?" The facetious remark made him feel small and stupid. He hated how much he liked it.
His mouth had always been quicker than his filter, so he shot back immediately. "What recourse did I have left? You're already the best at everything else." But what was meant to be witty sounded uncomfortably close to truth and he immediately wished he could snatch the words back.
He took another swig of beer, watching Jungkook open and close his mouth incredulously. "What?" He finally spluttered.
"Oh, don't act like you don't know!" He was shouting now. Damn it, when had this turned into a fight?
"Don't know what? What's your fucking problem with me anyway?" Jungkook yelled back, stalking toward the table aggressively until he was leaning over the table, hands planted before Namjoon, face close enough to feel the warmth of his breath with every raised syllable.
"How fucking perfect you are!" He almost screamed it, cornered and afraid. "How much better you are than me at everything without even fucking trying! The whole world worships at your feet! Stop pretending like you don't know that!"
God he was fucking magnificent! Towering above him like some dark deity, face flushed with anger, chest heaving with agitation. The muscles of his forearms corded with tension, roped with veins. Dark eyes narrowed to unfriendly slits. He wanted him so bad! Wanted him to make fists in his hair and kiss him until he couldn't breathe. Wanted him to bend him over this table and roughly thrust into his body until the only word he could remember was Jungkook's name. He felt himself stir into semi-arousal from the idea alone.
"Joon... Hey, that's not..." Namjoon frowned at Jungkook's softening expression. A hand lifted from the table in conciliation. What was he doing? Namjoon slapped the gesture away. He wanted his cock not his pity.
"Don't." He warned. "Don't act like you fucking care."
Jungkook made a growling sound of frustration that, unfortunately, went straight to Namjoon's dick and straightened away from him. "Why are you such a pain in the ass? I'm just trying to be nice! That's all I've ever tried to do. Just be your friend. Why are you always such an asshole?"
"I don't want to be your friend." He snapped, before lifting the amber bottle to his lips.
Before he could take a swig, Jungkook snatched it out of his hands, bringing it to his own lips as he scoffed. "Yeah, I can see that." He tipped the bottle and Namjoon watched his throat work as he swallowed, barely restraining a whimper. "What do you want then? Cos I'm so sick of fighting."
"Too bad, cos I'm not." But the words were shaky, weak.
Jungkook tilted his head as he took another sip of beer. His eyes thoughtful as though Namjoon were a puzzle to figure out. "Uh huh." Was all he said.
Then gave him a cocky salute with the bottle and meandered barefoot in the direction of the stairs.
"Hey!" He called after him. "That's mine."
"Not anymore." The taunting chuckle did nothing to abate his hard on.
They didn't speak again for the rest of the night. Namjoon pointedly donning his headphones and ignoring Jungkook's existence, much to Jungkook's apparent amusement. By the time the younger had switched off his phone and rolled over to face the wall, Joon's jaw ached from clenching it.
He waited until he heard Jungkook's shoulders rose and fell evenly in slumber before he finally shut down his laptop. Then, with a stealth born of practice, he reached beneath the bed and pulled out an old shoe box. To the casual observer, like his fastidious stepmother, it was filled with musical memorabilia; ticket stubs to concerts he'd seen; an old book full of sheet music; CDs and USBs. Beneath that, though, under a false bottom he'd engineered from cardboard and tape.
Despite the fact that they were pretty well off, he'd had worked odd jobs and pooled birthday and Christmas money to piece together his rather meagre toy collection. After all, it wasn't like he could ask his father (who paid for all his other expenses) to use his debit card on a quality butt plug he'd found online.
He didn't need the light that filtered through the blinds to identify each object by feel. His fingers stroked lovingly over a vegan leather collar. He knew technically his dom was supposed to affix it to his neck, but Namjoon loved the weight of it at his throat, loved to tug on the d-ring that was attached and imagine what it would be like to have Jungkook guide him roughly to his knees by that steel ring alone.
He stole a glance over at the boy in question, but he was still soundly sleeping. Did he dare risk donning it? Of everything in the box, this would be the hardest to conceal, but was also perhaps the easiest to fabricate an innocent explanation for. He set it aside for now and returned to his treasure trove once more.
Lube, of course. He was a masochist, not a maniac. His newest purchase; a vibrating, tapered anal beads. He'd been using them to train his body. He'd only worked up to the second so far, but to be fair, he'd only had the toy for a few weeks. He also found the first toy he'd ever bought, back when he was uneducated not just inexperienced. A thick, flesh coloured monstrosity of eight inches, it had been the closest thing he could find to Jungkook's actual size (he might have peeked). He had never done more than work the tip into his body, and even that had been stupidly ambitious. And finally, his favourite, a small silicone plug he often wore for hours at a time with no one the wiser. Its vibration function was run by a small, discreet motor and controlled by a remote similar in size and shape to one for a car, he found he could use it in public with little risk of detection. In fact, he would be wearing it right now if Jungkook had not lampooned his first night alone in close to six months.
The look he shot the boy this time was less furtive and more resentful. Jungkook, oblivious, merely sighed and nestled further into his blanket.
Namjoon took out the lube and set it next to the collar, then took the beads and plug in his hands, literally weighing his options. Finally, he settled on the beads. Maybe tonight he could finally work his way up to the largest option. True, it would be harder to be quiet, but Namjoon's foray into exhibitionism had honed his ability to mask his reactions. And, to be honest, a part of him wanted to be caught.
He set the box aside and shimmied out of his clothes beneath his covers. He knew he could simply expose the necessary body parts, but he wanted to play. He'd been in a state of semi-arousal since his shower more than five hours ago and the brief, vicious incursion with Jungkook had done nothing to cool his ardour.
He closed his eyes, vividly recalling the dark-haired boy looming over him, his face stark with anger. Namjoon's fingers deftly buckled the collar at his throat, imagining it was him instead, furious over some infraction. And when the leather was snug on his skin, he tugged on the ring with one hand and brought the other to his mouth, wetting his fingers before trailing them done his chest to roughly tug on the piercing at his nipple. Pain and pleasure zinged along his nerve endings, mingling in just the right way. He found the other nipple, pinched that too and sighed softly in satisfaction.
While his left hand was busy alternating between each sensitive bud, pinching, flicking, twisting just the way he liked it, he spread his legs, knees wide, eyes still closed, lost in fantasy. He ran fingertips delicately up his thigh. His hips jutted then stilled as he tapped two fingers over his eager little hole, feeling it flutter in anticipation. One day he wanted to feel the slap of Jungkook's thick cock there, but for now he would settle for the teasing little taps.
He kept it up for as long as he could, eerily silent in his pleasure, controlling the urge to thrash or rut and inadvertently wake his roommate. When he could stand it no longer, he reached blindly for the lube and toy, generously coating both it and his entrance, thrilling at the shock of the cool gel on his warm skin. He pressed the toy to the first bead before turning on the vibrations, the wet squelching sounds that overlaid the gentle hum of the motor as he twisted and pumped it into his reluctant body were obscenely loud, but he was fast reaching the point where he didn't really care.
Across the room, fabric rustled and the mattress groaned as Jungkook shifted. Namjoon's eyes flashed open and his head snapped to the side, his adrenaline spiking fiercely. But Jungkook's eyes remained closed as he kicked restlessly at the blanket until a foot peeked out before sighing through slightly parted lips.
Letting out his pent-up breath, he closed his eyes once more and resumed trying to wiggle the gently vibrating toy past the thicker, second knot. He bit his lip as the stretch became a burn, savouring it. When he finally managed it, he groaned softly. He took his time working it in and out of his hole, relishing the way it caught on his rim before being sucked back in.
His cock he left untouched, red and weeping with bereavement as it throbbed and pulsed against his abdomen. The weight of the blanket on his aching flesh became unbearable and he kicked it off before he could consider the consequences. Hissing as the soft cotton of his sheet was drawn down his body, plucking at his nipples and dragging at his swollen cockhead. When the cool night air met his feverish skin, he gave a little sigh of pleasure, squirming under hands he wished were the rougher, raw-boned ones of his stepsibling.
"Kookie, please." He murmured, arching his back as he pushed against the final, thickest bead of the thrumming toy.
He turned his head, wanting to gaze upon the object of his desire as he tried to deceive himself that it was Jungkook's touch that was making his senses sing with pleasure.
And looked right into the dark gaze of a very awake Jungkook.
"Please, what?" He was smirking like he'd knew something Namjoon didn't and Joon noticed his voice held none of the husk of sleep. How long had he been lying there awake? How much had he heard? How much had he seen?
His entire body jolted with shock and he whimpered as the toy finally lodged itself within him. Instead of answering, he scrabbled with the covers, trying to pull them up.
"Oh? Now you're shy?" He knew Jungkook was just being an asshole, gloating because he'd found him in a compromising position, but his tone was just right to have him whimpering again. Of course, it didn't help that the toy was still inside him vibrating steadily, not quite on his prostrate, but close enough to make him shudder.
"What?" He was peeling back his own covers now as he sat up. "Clever Namjoon's finally run out of things to say?"
"Shut up." He got out weakly, trying to pull the sheet up his chest.
Instead it caught on the piercing in his right nipple, yanking it. He let out a particularly embarrassing moan. And Jungkook's expression shifted to one not unlike curiosity.
He rose, with his usual casual grace, and crossed the room to where Namjoon was still trembling, dangling dangerously on the precipice of pleasure. And there he stood, looking own on him like he was something smeared on a slide, kind of disgusting but still intriguing.
Something inside Namjoon broke. He could almost hear it shatter like glass. His pride. His inhibition. Every cautionary instinct that kept his need off Jungkook's radar. His body turned fully to the younger man, kneeling with his thighs resting on his calves. His hands reached out of their own accord and wrapped around the younger man's wrist, tugging it forward to the collar at his throat. When those fingers rested supple against his throat, Namjoon slipped his own hands up to curl them around the ring.
"Please, Kookie." He whispered, unwilling, unable to keep his twisted devotion a secret any longer.
"What?" He sounded incredulous, but his fingers unconsciously tightened on the metal ring, tugging Namjoon closer in the most delicious way. "What the fuck is going on here? You want me to fuck you or something?"
"Yes." Namjoon panted in response. "Please."
"What? No! I- No! That's fucking crazy! You hate me!" He stuttered out his denial, but he didn't loosen his grip.
"So? Hate-fuck me then." He goaded. "Don't tell me you haven't dreamt of teaching your uppity hyung a lesson. Hmm? Isn't that why you were on my bed this afternoon? So, do it." He licked his lips, equal parts nervous, embarrassed and aroused. "Make me your bitch, Kookie."
"What?" Jungkook stared down at him, flabbergasted.
"Do you want me to beg?" He offered, more than willing to debase himself for even a taste of the divine being he roomed with. Every breath was a struggle with the beads still buzzing away inside of him. If he wasn't careful, he was going to end up cumming mid conversation. The very thought was both humiliating and exciting.
"No, of course no- Actually, you know what? Yes. Yes, I do. You've made my life a living hell for three and a half years now. You need me, not the other way around. So, yes, beg me, Namjoon. And make it good." He ordered tightly.
Namjoon rolled his eyes at the hyperbole. "A living hell? Really?"
"Do you want this or not?" Jungkook snapped back.
"Yes. You're right. I'm sorry." He released a shaky breath, trying to hold on to his control long enough to convince Kook to bury his cock inside him. "Please, Jungkook. I want it." But his pleas were met with a look of derision and that control snapped until he was babbling. "I need it. I need you, so bad. Wanted this for so long. You don't even know. Please, please, I'll do anything. I'll let you use me anyway you want. Just, please, touch me, fuck me." He met his eyes with desperation and he pawed uselessly at the hand still clamped around the ring on his collar, mewling. "Please, Kookie. Please."
Jungkook's eyes first widened, then narrowed. "Define 'anything'. And what is that sound?"
"The vibrator in my ass." He said dismissively, wiggling in an attempt to shift it further from his prostate. "I mean anything. Want to be rough? Fuck me into the mattress? You can. I want you to. Want me to ride you? I'll do it. With my hands tied behind my back if you want it. Want me to suck you off? Want to fuck my face? My throat? Want to punish me for all those years I was a shitty brother? Turn me over your knee and spank me? Wanna use your belt instead? I'll be your naughty boy. I'll be your good boy. Just tell me what you want, Kookie? Tell me and I'll do it." He was pathetic in his urgency, he knew it, he just didn't care anymore.
At last he saw that spark of want kindle in Jungkook's eyes, the fire that had consumed him for two years finally spreading. "Show me."
All the blood rushing to his dick made him slow and he blinked at his stepbrother in confusion. "Show you?" He echoed.
"The vibrator, dumb ass." This was accompanied by a flick to his forehead.
"Ow. You fucker!" Namjoon rubbed at the spot. When he'd fantasised about Kook hurting him, that wasn't what he had in mind.
"Shut up and move the sheet."
He did as he was told without hesitation. Jungkook's hand unclenched from the d-ring to drift down his torso, flicking one of his piercings experimentally. Namjoon's eyelid's drooped and he swayed, his gasp of surprise turning into a soft moan.
"Interesting." Jungkook muttered the word more to himself than anything else before drawing his attention back to the matter at hand. "Well come on. Let's see it. I don't have all day."
"Night." Namjoon corrected automatically.
"What?" Jungkook lifted his eyes from his fingers which were now tracing over the words inked into his ribs.
"You don't have all night. Because-" Catching Jungkook's impatient expression he shook his head. "Never mind."
Swallowing thickly, Namjoon slowly opened his legs beneath the sheet. The humming sound grew infinitesimally louder. Not waiting for him, Jungkook bunched the sheet in his fist and ripped it from him, dumping it on the floor. He dropped to a squat in front of him, eye level with Namjoon's pierced navel, ignoring the helplessly pulsing cock beneath. The hand on his chest floated down to his abdomen, making him squirm again until the ticklish sensation.
He stilled at the irritated look the younger boy flashed him until the hand on his body made its way to the handle-like base of the toy, tapping it with curiosity. Whining wordlessly at the shift of it inside his body, Namjoon convulsively tried to shut his legs, only to be met with strong fingers digging into the pale flesh of his thighs.
Tutting, he shifted his weight pushing Namjoon back and off-balance until he hit the wall behind him with a dull, painful thud. Dazed, he felt the tug at his knee and slipped forward, pushing against the toy in a way that had his back arching and a delirious cry was ripped from his lips. Feet now on the floor and Jungkook's broad torso lodged between his knees to prevent his thighs from closing, he felt that curious tap again and mewled piteously.
The taps became tugs and his hips gave an abortive thrust, almost colliding with the younger's curious face. A sharp slap to the delicate skin of his thickly muscled thigh rebuked him and he gasped again. "Stop that. Just stay still."
He lifted up onto his elbows to watch as a perfect imprint of Jungkook's hand appeared on the white flesh. "Fuck." He whispered reverently. "Do it again."
Kookie's features registered surprise before sliding into a smirk. "Do what? This?" He pulled the handle of the beads until his rim rested around the apex of the third bead, stretched and burning before pushing it back in and repeating it again another two times while Namjoon sat on his elbows panting like a bitch in heat.
"Or this?" And he slapped the other thigh with enough force to send it jiggling.
"Both." Namjoon groaned.
He pulled on the handle again, slowly dragging it to the thickest point and back again, circling a little on the upthrust so it worked him open further. Then, when he pulled hard enough to have the bead pop free of his hole altogether. He worked the bead in and out of Namjoon's body, his eyes glued to the spectacle of fuchsia silicone being wetly swallowed by his greedy entrance and coaxed back out.
"What about this?"
He struck the base of the toy. The angle was a little awkward, so it didn't hit with as much force as the slap, but it drove the beads right into his prostate. Namjoon's hands clawed at the sheet beneath him, his chest heaving as he cried out again.
"Yes! Fuck yes! Ungh, Kookie, feels so fucking good."
And then Jungkook was raining blows across his spread thighs while he vented three years worth of grievances. "Always such an asshole to me, weren't you, hyung? Always correcting my every mistake with that shit eating grin on your face. Always doing stupid shit just to annoy me. Hiding my shoes? Who even does that?" He went on and on, listing every petty crime Namjoon had committed accompanied by a sharp, stinging open hand. "And now look at you." He hit the beads again. "Writhing under me like a bitch. Begging me to fuck you like some god for nothing slut."
"Yes! Yes!" He sobbed in pleasure-pain, opening his shaking legs wider. "I'm a slut. I'm your slut."
Jungkook made a scoffing sound. "If you were my slut, you'd be on my cock instead of this stupid piece of plastic." He smacked the base again.
"I'm sorry." He wept the words, fumbling between his legs to rid himself of the thing Kookie found so offensive. "I'll take it out. I'm yours, Kookie."
"Tch, get your hands out of the way. Such a useless little bitch." He roughly shoved Namjoon's hands away and grabbed the toy once more. He began to pull it out, stilling again at the pinnacle of the stretch. "What are you?" Namjoon continued to writhe, not comprehending the question, too lost in the harsh words and brutal hands.
"Hey!" A hand snaked up to pinch a pierced nipple and he shuddered. "Answer me."
"What?" He tried to concentrate on what Kookie wanted from him.
"I said, what are you?" He repeated tersely.
"I... umm..." He searched for the right answer. "A bitch?"
"A useless bitch. Say it."
"I'm a-" He broke off panting when Jungkook twisted the barbell. "I'm a u-useless bi-bitch." He finally managed to stutter out.
In reward the string of beads was mercilessly ripped from his body. He choked on his pleasure. Then whined at the terrible emptiness.
"Kookie, please! Fuck me!"
"More. Beg me more, Joonie-slut." His voice had become deep and hoarse, raspy with lust.
"Please, Kookie, fill me up with your fat cock. Please, please, please. I'll be such a good slut for you." He grovelled through broken moans.
"Oh yeah?" The younger was shoving his loose sleeping shorts down and gripping Namjoon's glowing red thighs. "Want Kookie to split you open with his thick cock? Huh?" He slapped it against Namjoon's stretched entrance and the older man whimpered.
"Yes, please, Kookie. Please fuck me. Need you so bad." He squirmed, trying to impale himself.
"Fuck! Where's the lube?"
Namjoon's hand patted the bed, searching frantically before landing upon the tube and practically throwing it at his, thankfully, more athletic partner who caught it with ease. For the second time that night, he felt a cold shock as Kookie's gel-coated fingers plunged roughly into his hole, slicking his canal in preparation.
And finally, it was the broad head of his cock pushing at his entrance. Even with the toy play, it was still a stretch. His breath stilled in his chest and he tensed against the pain.
"Fuck!" Jungkook cursed above him. "Tight. You need to-" He grunted as his hips rocked. "Hey, relax for me. You're too tight, I can't-"
"Ah, fuck! Hurts!" He hissed between his teeth.
"Do you want me stop?" The vicious tormentor from earlier was gone, replaced with the sweet, considerate Jungkook that Namjoon had never appreciated before. "Hyung, it's ok. We can stop. I don't want to hurt you." And perhaps realising the irony of those words, he amended. "Not proper hurt you, anway."
"No. No, I'll be ok. I just need to-" He squirmed like a bug pinned to a board.
"Shh, just relax." Jungkook whispered, leaning over him to stroke his hair and carefully wipe the tears that spilled down his temple. "You're ok. Doing so well for me." He started peppering small kisses across his cheeks, his nose, his jaw before hesitating above his lips.
Their lips met, sweet at first, but then with mounting hunger. At the barest touch of Jungkook's tongue he let his mouth fall open, moaning loudly a it swept into his mouth, exploring, massaging. Little by little, his body relaxed as he concentrated on the magic of Jungkook's lips on his. He tasted like crystal clear water and something uniquely Jungkook. He almost didn't notice with his hips began to rock up to meet the younger's shallow thrusts. He barely registered when those large, rough hands caught his thighs and wrapped them around his narrow waist. So lost in the kiss that nothing else mattered.
When finally, Jungkook's hips lay flush against him, he broke the kiss to cry out in bliss.
"Hyung is being is such a good slut for me." The sweet tone completely at odds with the degrading words. "Taking my cock so well. My perfect little cock slut."
"Yes. Yes. Feel so good in me, Kookie. Fill me up so good." He mumbled the words incoherently as the other boy's hips ground down into his.
"So close, aren't you, Joonie-slut?" And despite the hard words, Jungkook's voice was soft, indulgent. "Look at your poor little cock. So hard. All red and dripping for me."
A hand wrapped around his painfully swollen cock and it was such sweet relief he sobbed. "Please..."
"Well, since you asked so nicely." The younger gave a strained laugh and began to pump his fist in time with his thrusting hips.
It took less than a minute before Namjoon's body was tensing in anticipation of his long-denied orgasm. "Oh! Kookie! Fuck! Fuck! Fuckfuckfuckfuck... So good, so good. So fucking good in me. Fuck! Harder! More!" He was jerking his hips up in demand.
"Demanding little slut, aren't you?" Again, that strained laugh before he pulled out completely and Namjoon mewled at the loss.
"Turn over, on your hands and knees." The order was punctuated by a swat to the side of his ass. He moaned, sluggishly trying to comply.
Apparently, he wasn't fast enough, because not a moment later, Jungkook was manhandling him into position. Strong fingers pried open his cheeks and the man above him cooed. "Look at your pretty hole, fluttering so sweetly. If I didn't hate the taste of lube, I'd tongue-fuck you right now."
Namjoon's knees buckled at the thought and Jungkook gave a little chuckle as he caught him with an forearm above his pelvis. "Like that idea, huh? Maybe next time if you're a good boy." He teased.
"Next time?" The phrase stuck in his mind like a burr.
Instead of answering, Jungkook swatted his ass again, sending the cheeks jiggling before humming in satisfaction. Then that same strong hand massaged firmly, taking away some of the sting. In fact, it seemed Kook was so satisfied that he felt the need to repeat the action again. And again. Alternating from cheek to cheek. Burning slap followed by firm squeezing stroke. And all Namjoon could do was shudder and moan.
"Kookie, please." He whined when his arms could no longer bear his weight and he fell to his elbows.
Humming again, he lubed up once more, squeezing directly into Namjoon's gaping hole and spreading it around with his bony fingers, finding and pressing on his prostate just for the pleasure of watching the older boy jolt and whine, pressing back desperately against the invading fingers.
Finally, finally, he was plunging back into Namjoon's eager body. Jungkook's rhythmic grunting, his panting and the obscene, wet, squelching produced with each powerful thrust of his hips, the only sounds that could be heard in their shared room. The hand still wet with lube wrapping around his length and jerking roughly. And with every stroke of his cock and flick of his wrist, he drove Namjoon headlong into pleasure, until he was shaking with it, until every breath was a broken moan, every word a plea for release.
He felt the warmth of Jungkook at his back, the harsh rise and fall of his chest when he demanded in his deep voice. "Come for me, Joonie-slut."
He helplessly obeyed, holding his breath until he exploded with ecstasy across the raw-boned hand and onto his cotton sheets. A muffled cry of "Kookie!" pulled from his lips.
Behind him, Jungkook's movements became erratic and sloppy. With a lengthy groan, his ground his hips firmly against Namjoon's ass and he felt warmth flood him. He moaned again from the sensation.
He collapsed under the sudden weight of his muscular stepsibling, breath whooshing out of him with a grunt. Above him, Jungkook sighed happily, pressing kisses to his naked shoulders absently.
"Move." He managed to groan out after a few minutes.
"Can't. Too comfy." Jungkook yawned.
"Well I'm lying in a puddle of my own cum. So, move your ass." He shot back in irritation.
With a huff, Kookie pulled back his hips, effectively disconnecting their bodies and flopped onto his back beside the disgruntled Joon.
"Gross." He whined as he rolled the other way, putting much needed distance between them. "Give me the sheet."
"Please." Jungkook corrected.
"Now." Namjoon shot back instead.
He felt, rather than saw Jungkook lift up onto his elbow. "You're unbelievable, you know that?"
"Whatever, I'll do it myself." Except that his body wasn't working. And instead of standing up, he slid into a heap on the carpeted floor. He frowned in confusion.
"You just had vigorous anal sex, idiot. Give it a minute." Despite the scolding nature of the words, Jungkook was kneeling beside him, using his sheet to gently wipe the fluids from his chest, and then, mortifyingly, from between his legs.
"How was I supposed to know that?" He grumbled. "I've never done this before."
"You've never..? Are you fucking kidding me right now?" Jungkook's eyes met his incredulously.
Namjoon whined, dropping the uncomfortable gaze and tried to close his legs, only to have Jungkook tut and force them open again to clean him more thoroughly.
"Behave yourself." He scolded again.
"Make me." Namjoon challenged back, more from habit than real verve.
"Shut. Up." Jungkook gave him a beleaguered look and kissed him long and hard enough to make him dizzy. "Only you would pick a fight five seconds after losing your v card. Seriously."
Namjoon had the good grace to blush, ducking his head as he plucked at the carpet fibres beneath his fingers nervously. "So... What now?" He asked uncertainly.
"Now?" Jungkook's arms wrapped around his torso beneath his arms and dragged him unsteadily to his feet. "Now you get in bed." He pushed lightly and Namjoon was bouncing onto Jungkook's mattress with a wince.
"Oh, sorry." The younger apologised sheepishly at Namjoon's glare. "Stay there, I'll get you some water." He offered while he casually squeezed the residual cum from his shaft and wiped it on Namjoon's sheet before dropping it to the floor.
He strode, gloriously, confidently naked out of the room while Namjoon watched enthralled. He returned a few minutes later with a glass of water and a couple of sandwiches on a plate.
"Here." He shoved both into Namjoon's hands
"I'm not-" He began to protest.
"Jesus Christ on a crutch will you just take it! You try to do something nice, honestly."
"Fine. Thank you." He muttered, sipping the water. He actually was pretty thirsty.
"That's better." His sullen acquiesce was rewarded with another quick kiss. He blinked stupidly, throwing a confused look at the younger boy.
"So, is this why you've been a massive dick to me for three years?" Jungkook cut right to the chase, grabbing a sandwich off the plate and biting off the corner.
"I, uh, sort of?" Namjoon answered, keeping his eyes firmly on the plate.
"Uh huh. Gonna be nicer now?" He bumped his shoulder into Joon's, rocking him in a way that sent pain spearing through his ass.
"Probably not." He growled, shoving back.
Jungkook just grinned. "That's ok. I know how to sweeten you up now." His hand slid suggestively onto his red, stinging thigh.
"Ow! Will you fucking stop?" He hissed.
"Nope." He popped the 'P', grinning wider.
"I hate you." He groused.
"Forgive me if I find that harder to believe. In light of recent events." He scoffed.
After washing the peanut butter sandwich with the cool water in awkward silence, Namjoon finally spoke. "Can you please get my pants and help me make my bed? I'm tired."
Jungkook took the plate and glass from his hands and set them on the bedside before crawling into the single bed behind him. He felt the weight of Jungkook's arms across his waist and glared over his shoulder. "Kookie?"
"No. You can sleep here. And if I give you pants, how am I supposed to tongue-fuck you in the morning?" Jungkook murmured sleepily, nestling into his back.
"What?" Joon squawked. "You were serious about that?"
"Shhh." A finger that smelled strongly of sex and lube pressed against his lips. "Sleep."
A/N A fun little one shot I've been working on after @calicojeon asked why all virgins were supposed to be innocent. So here's my take on a kinky virgin.