E - namseok, touch-starved
Hoseok traces the line of Namjoon's collarbone to the hollow of his throat—Namjoon makes a little sound, like lying still for that takes a great effort—and then slowly down the center of his chest, his stomach. By the time the pad of Hoseok's finger reaches the waistband of Namjoon's underwear, Namjoon is keening.
"Shh," Hoseok whispers, and kisses Namjoon's mouth to swallow down his desperate noises.
He rocks his cupped hand up and down over Namjoon's dick, but Namjoon starts bucking his hips so much it's better just to go still. Hoseok props his cheek on his hand and lets his hand over, watching muscles work in Namjoon's stomach and legs as he chases the friction. "Hoseok," he whines.
"Say please," Hoseok says.
"Please," Namjoon says.
Hoseok smiles. "Oh, good boy."
He drags his hand back up Namjoon's stomach to touch his face, and Namjoon looks as agonized as an angel falling but he turns his cheek into the touch, ready to take anything.
"Say my name again," Hoseok says.
"Hoseok," Namjoon says immediately. "Ho-seok-ah-please—"
"All right, all right." Hoseok rolls onto his back, knees spread, and puts a bored look on his face as he gestures Namjoon closer. "Take it, then." Namjoon pounces, his hands all over Hoseok's sides and hips and his hot bulk sinking over Hoseok's core.
"Hoseok, Hoseok," he murmurs, until he bites down on Hoseok's shoulder too hard to speak.