How come whenever i write for this pairing it always ends up w joon bein needy and tae gladly being santas little helper

late night feels everyone buckle up for the ride as it will surely disappoint you

posted on my tumblr too

Taehyung stops in his tracks, white ankle socks slipping a little on the wooden floors of the dorm but the shorter brings a hand up to steady himself with the wall. Standing in the entrance to the living room his eyes immediately zero in on the pajama clad lump thrown onto the sofa. Snores heavy and limbs loose as the male slumped against the soft padded cushions, chest raising and releasing with every breath. His loose cotton tank scrunched up to reveal a toned stomach and a hint of a smooth pelvis bone. The body twitches and Taehyung averts his gaze.

It’s not the first time he’s caught Namjoon passed out on the couch, in fact it’s becoming something of a trend lately. With the piled and piled on hours of time he spend mixing music, recording, practicing sometimes he doesn’t even see his hyung come home at all. Only sees the leftover evidence found in the empty cartons of ramen in the trash or the tousled worn brand clothes thrown haphazardly over their hamper.

Namjoon looks so peacefully content in the uncomfortable couch that Taehyung almost believes it superior to a bed but Taehyung knows better and bites at his lip when contemplating whether he should wake his hyung up or not. It seems almost fatherly, in a way, for him to wake up Namjoon and tell him to go sleep in his bed, so much it brings a giggle to the brunette’s throat but he swallows it down and approaches the older with light footsteps.

“Hyung..” He calls softly, like a pet owner easing a frightened animal. A few more tentative steps and he’s standing next to the sleeping male. Shyly he places a hand on Namjoon’s chest, pressing lightly against the material of his top, feeling the rigid muscle and bone push back from the contact force. With a twist of his wrist he shakes the sleeping male and tries again. “Hyung.” A little more stern this time.

Namjoon’s snores sound through the living room, completely oblivious to the outside world as he gives zero reaction to Taehyung’s ministrations. The shorter male sighs inwardly and begins to retreat his hand when something catches his eye. The other’s exposed midriff, at this distance Taehyung can clearly see the defined ridges of his ribs as they sneak out from under his shirt, the smooth circles of muscle inadvertently tense from training,  the small dip of his belly button and the curve of his hips. Taehyung feels his mouth begin to dry; nervously he tongues at his lip and looks away.

Taehyung likes girls, likes their smooth legs and nice smelling hair, the smallness of their waists and the firmness of their s. He likes their laughs, their eyes, the shy thing they do with their fingers. Taehyung likes girls, likes to look at girls, his hyung is definitely not a girl. He spares another glance in a moment of weakness and his eyes land on the fine black hairs on the older boy’s navel, creating a little pathway across the tanned skin until it ducks into the material of his gray sweats.

Taehyung doesn’t realize he’s moved his hand until his fingers and lightly grazing an exposed hip bone. Namjoon shutters a breath, snore hitching midway and Taehyung freezes. Eyes wide and heart pounding as he feels not too different from the time his mother caught him sneaking a few at the cookie dough before it had been baked. It was delicious, and dangerous and so so worth it.

Namjoon twitches but settles back a second later, soft huff of breath resuming as Taehyung’s heart collects itself. He pauses, his fingers are burning but he lets them and flattens his palm on Namjoons stomach. He feels the firmness of the muscle, the raising and lowering of breath, the faint scratching on his palm from the course navel hairs. Absentmindedly he runs his thumb along crevice of Namjoon’s belly button, teasing the flesh by dipping in ever so lightly with each caress. He’s so caught up in his ministrations he doesn’t notice when the familiar background music of the older boy’s snores stop filling the room, or the fact that they’ve been quiet for a while now.

“Tae?” A voice whispers, hoarse and raspy but so very awake, Taehyung loses his breath.

“Hyung!” He quietly exclaims, hand whipping away from shock only to meet the resistance of Namjoon’s fingers as they encircle his wrist and keep him locked in. Taehyung feels like a hunted rabbit, wild with fear but its own overcharged heart stops him from running away.

“What are you doing.” Namjoon voices but it’s not necessarily a question, more like a statement, like he knows exactly what Taehyung was doing, the thoughts that where running through his head and feelings that where spreading through his body. But Namjoon’s gaze is hazy and his face is redder than Taehyung remembered it to be and something about the way his fingers dig into his held wrist seems desperate; yearning.

With a pull of his forearm and with little resistance from Taehyung he painstakingly slowly moves the younger’s hand lower and lower until he’s hovering over the band of his sweatpants and Taehyung swallows loudly in the silent room. He doesn’t break contact with Namjoon, takes in the unsure nervous look shot at him, drinks the half lidded gaze and bite of a lip as Taehyung boldly presses the tips of his fingers down onto the skin meeting the cloth.

Namjoons shuts his eyes, breathe hitching in a small gasp he couldn’t hold back and Taehyung dips his fingers underneath.