Archive of Our Own ^beta

It was a cool night, the kind of night where instead of wearing a jacket, you wear a thin shirt so you can feel the breeze on your skin. Johnny refrained from drinking any hard alcohol for this reason, and instead settled on just passing around a blunt between he and his friends outside of the gas station while they filled up their bikes. The blunt was between his lips now, and he took a puff before his attention was averted by the hand that was smacking his bare shoulder.

“Look who we have here,” the voice the hand belonged to called out to the woman her her friend walking past them in a hurry. “Hey, mamas, what are you doing out here so late?”

The women scuffed and kept walking to avoid any more confrontation from the sketchy (and yet, surprisingly good looking) men catcalling them.

“Yuta, you’re up,” Taeyong, the more respectful one of the group, announced and handed him the pump.

Johnny laughed and passed the blunt to his friend Haechan, who was also laughing at how Yuta got rejected. He tapped the blunt to drop the ashes of paper onto the ground before putting it between his lips. “You’re such a perv,” he giggled.

“What?! They were probably hitting up that club just around the corner judging by their short skirts and high heels,” Yuta grumbled as he leant against his bike as gas filled the tank, “Just seeing if they wanted some company.” He winked and pass the pump off to someone else.

“Speaking of company,” Johnny mumbled as another girl walked by, this time, her outfit wasn’t as skimpy as the other girls who just gone through here; instead, she wore a long skirt, down to her ankles, that was loose and almost translucent (if you squinted enough), with a big, lumpy sweater and a little crossbody purse at her hip. She looked young, maybe a few years younger than Johnny, and she had round glasses sinking on her nose. She was pretty, and her hair was a lighter brown that he didn’t see on girls nowadays.

“Isn’t she just cute enough to eat,” a voice, Jaehyun’s, snickered into Johnny’s ear.

Johnny licked his lips. He liked girls like her: pretty, modest, innocent; the kind of girl he simultaneously wanted to hold above his head and crush beneath him. Beside her, however, was a man that he couldn’t quite see. They weren’t holding hands though, so Johnny took that as a sign that they weren’t dating. He stood up straight, his lean muscle flexing under his wife beater, making the tattoos there almost come alive.

“Hey baby girl,” he sang, his head tilting back as if to look down at her, “Why don’t you ditch that guy and come home with me instead?”

The girl looked up, a soft blush on her cheeks (or maybe it was just the weather) and she brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear. Flustered, good sign. Her eyes scanned him: taking note of the mysterious eye on his shirt, the intimidating amount of tattoos along his arms and chest, the thick chain on his neck, and the bike he leant against. Her blush grew darker.

“You like what you see?” Johnny hummed as he raked his hand through his dark red hair, and winked at her.

“No—No!” The man beside the girl finally spoke up, pushing her to stand behind him, shielding her from Johnny. “No more of that. Just ignore them, Na-Woon...”

Johnny wanted to get upset, but as soon as the man looked up at him, he swore his dick throbbed to life on the spot: the man was tall, almost as tall as himself, with caramel skin and ash brown hair (probably bleached); his shoulders were broad, and he looked even broader with his loose fitting shirt and dark sweats. God, he made Johnny want to grab his cock and force it between those juicy lips. He was good at masking it, of course - Johnny was a flirt, and it wasn’t the first time that he was left almost speechless. Keyword: almost.

“Hello handsome!” A smirk grew on Johnny’s face; his voice was more sultry than it was when he was hitting on the girl, and his gaze was dark and full of lust. “Why don’t we forget about two minutes ago and let me make it up to you.”

The man’s eyes grew wide and he looked as if he could just sky rocket away if Na-Woon hadn’t taken his arm. “Are you joking me? You’re insane—“

She was tugging the man away, clearly embarrassed by the whole encounter, as they walked off.

Johnny couldn’t keep his eyes off of the man, and even took few steps in their direction before they disappeared around the corner. And then an arm wrapped around his neck and yanked him back and a loud laughter was in his ear that he could not mistake for anyone else but Mark.

“What was that?!” He shrieked, and Haechan’s laughter joined in. He skipped over and wrapped his arms around Johnny’s side, his nose poking his jaw. “You were totally hitting on that girl only to start hitting on that guy.”

“Yeah, Mark, we all saw,” Doyoung spoke up as inserted the gas pump into his and Jungwoo’s bike. “I think someone is a little too horny tonight.”

“Why don’t I help you out with this?”

Johnny scuffed and shoved Haechan away. “Oh fuck off - now that I was luckily enough to have laid eyes in the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, nothing will ever turn me on again.”

“Your so dramatic!” Jungwoo squealed and climbed onto his bike, his legs spread wide to accommodate for Doyoung, who had already filled up his bike and handed it off to Taeil. “He wasn’t all that.”

“He was pretty good looking,” Mark defended as he loosened his grip on Johnny’s neck, now just holding him. “And tall too.”

“And those fucking lips,” Johnny groaned and pushed Mark away, but not in a rough way. “Those lips could suck the life out of me through my dick!”

“That’s enough already,” Taeyong stated, having returned from paying for the gas. “We’re leaving now, we have places to be.”

The sound of some of the motorbike’s engines growled to life and everyone headed over to join them. Tayeong was the first to ride off, and the rest followed in suit, but in the opposite direction that the handsome man and his friend went.

Johnny watched intently as Jaehyun, Jungwoo, and Mark took turns swinging their wooden bats at the man that was flailing around between them. Each bat made a loud crack as it knocked against the man’s skull, sending him in the direction of the next bat. When the man tumbled to the ground, almost pliant, Taeyong stepped up, his own bat in his hands; his steps crunched as he walked over shards of the man’s teeth.

“You’re a lucky man,” Taeyong said, his voice dark, “We don’t need you anymore.” He rolled his shoulders and waved Johnny over.

The man grumbled incoherently as Johnny pulled him up by his under arms, and held him in place in front of his leader. Taeyong drew back his bat, and swung hard. His head spun a complete 180 degrees and blood splattered across Johnny’s face. Their eyes were met and he could see the last sign of life fade away. Disgusted, he shoved the dead man to the ground.

“Think they’ll get the message?” Mark asked, wiping down his bloodied bat.

“If they don’t, they’re really fucking stupid,” Haechan giggled and ran over to the dead body, pulled the limp head from the ground. Its eyes rolled to the back of his head and he dropped it.

“Either they pay us for the race that we won,” Taeyong muttered and tossed his bat to Johnny, “Or we find another one of their guys and kill them.”

Yuta walked up, his eyes narrowed and face twisted in fury. He gathered saliva in his mouth and spat down at the corpse. “Fucking kusottare,” he growled. “I won that race.”

“We’re leaving, Johnny has a race tonight,” Taeyong called and headed out of the warehouse, Yuta followed after him, his fists clenched at his sides.

Johnny climbed into the truck, Mark and Haechan laughed their asses off in the open bed of the trunk, while Doyoung manned the passenger’s seat beside him. “Are you nervous?” He asked as Johnny started the engine.

“No, but don’t ask me, it makes me nervous,” Johnny huffed, his hands squeezed tight around the steering wheel.

“Oh c’mon, you’re an amazing racer, you’ll win for sure,” Doyoung giggled and leaned his head against the window. “Besides, the problem isn’t is whether you lose, it’s if the loser will pay up.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Johnny muttered.

“As much as I like to get paid, I do find it sexy how sadistic Taeyong gets when he’s angry,” Doyoung confessed, crossing his legs and uncrossing them. “He’s always so sweet and caring, but he gets so serious when people steal his money.”

“God, just fuck him and get it over with,” Haechan laughed through the window behind their heads. “If you haven’t already,” he added, but Johnny shut the window, and drove after the other’s bikes (with Taeyong leading, of course).

To any person who happened to be driving at that time, all the stocked up cars was probably due to construction, or an accident. Whatever it was, Namjoon was not having it - he had stayed up all night completing an essay his professor assigned last minute, only for his printer to be out of ink and every craft store in his city being closed. Luckily, one of his friends, Yoongi, had finally answered his messages and let him use his printer. He was on his way now because he was already driving (his roommate’s - Hobi - car), so might as well just drive to his apartment rather than drive all the way back to his dorm just to rush to Yoongi’s place in the morning to print out his essay (not that Yoongi would be awake that early in the morning anyway, which was also why he was up at 3 am to answer Namjoon’s text).

There he was, in the middle of a blockage, flash drive in hand, and just a few blocks away from Yoongi’s apartment. He thought of turning around, but people had already drove up behind him, honking like mad men, making Namjoon’s. headache only worse. Sick of waiting, he climbed out of his car and ran down the aisle of cars to see what the hold up was.

As he approached the end, he heard music blasting and cheering, as if a parade was being held or something. What there some kind of holiday today? Would’ve this have been on the news? Namjoon, along with a few other curious and angry people following behind him, walked up to end where a line of cars were parked, only one or two people actually in the car while the rest of the people were standing on top of them, holding drinks and smoking (judging from the smell) weed.

“What the fuck?” He mumbled. Namjoon swallowed down his fear and slipped through the cars, nearly tumbling into an empty street.

Many people yelled at him to get off of the road, and he jumped back immediately. The music was loud and full of curse words and old style rapping and sexy feminine voices. Everything he was looking at made his head spin: the whole street was completely empty, running up and down with no car in sight, except for the ones that blocked the crossroads, and lining the side walls were people! Hundreds of people who danced and mingled like it was some kind of club. At the end, towards his right, there was a line up of motorcycles and a bunch of trucks that had heavy looking equipment in the bed of the trunks. Women in very revealing clothing strutted between the bikes; people in jumpers and caps tinkered with the bikes, holding tools and such; the people on the bikes wore badass gear, like something out of a sci-fi video game.

Before he could control himself, Namjoon began to walk down towards them, completely in awe of what was happening. Were these people racing? In the middle of a street in the city? Was this even legal? When he got close enough to actually read what was written on the sides of the bikes, firm hands grabbed him.

“H-Hey! Get off!” Namjoon sputtered.

“No bystanders allowed near the racers,” a man said, his face stern and his body built like a wrestler.

“What’s going on?” Namjoon asked, but he already put together that answer.

“None of your business,” another man said, the one who had grabbed him, “Either you stay on the sidelines and watch, or get out of here!”

Namjoon nodded and stepped away, getting one last look at the racers who were adjusting their helmets and other gear. He froze when he spotted a face that he recognised: it was the sexy (Namjoon would never admit that out loud, though) guy from the gas station the other day! He threw his leg over his bike: it looked like it weighed a ton and was pimped out with a black and yellow paint job. If Namjoon hadn’t known any better, he would’ve believed that thing was a Transformer!

To his luck, the guy had looked up for a split second, and made direct eye contact with Namjoon. Oh god, I’m gonna be sick!

Namjoon spun on his foot and tried to walk away, but there were so many people all around him, the music was so obnoxiously loud and the smell of alcohol and the taste of smoke disoriented him. This couldn’t be real, he didn’t see him. He prayed he didn’t see him (and Namjoon wasn’t even religious), and tried to find a gap in the crowd. A hand grabbed his shoulder and was forced to turn back. He stared up at the man, helmet held to his waist and a cheeky grin plastered on his face.

“Hey, I know you,” he said, voice much too quiet to hear, but somehow Namjoon could tell that was what he said. “You stalking me or something?”

“No! God, no!” He shook his head furiously, which only made it ache - the juices in his brain sloshing around and creating a pressure at him temples. “I-I-I don’t know where I am or what’s going on—“

“Calm down, baby, c’mon, it’s too loud over here.”

Namjoon hand was taken into the stranger’s and he was pulled over to where his bike was propped up. Around him, women were eyeing him seductively (or maybe it was for the other guy, he couldn’t tell, everything was blurry), and the men who were tending to the motorcycles disregarded him.

“Johnny,” a man with peachy hair walked up - his eyes were big and opened wide, in an strangely adorable way, and had cool makeup around them - and nodded towards Namjoon; “Who’s this?”

Johnny dropped his hand and smirked. “Oh, I found him on the sidelines - he’s that guy that rejected me at that gas station the other day.”

“You invited him?”

“No, just right place, right time, huh?”

Johnny turned to Namjoon - his eyes darted from him to the other man, and back to Johnny, speechless.

“Right, well, don’t mess around,” he said, waving his hand to signal to the women in bikinis who were sitting out. They stood and took guns into their hands. “The others are distracting the police for now, but the race will need to happen in the next minute.” The peach haired man walked off.

“Don’t mind, Taeyong,” Johnny whispered, dangerously close to Namjoon’s ear. He jumped back and nearly bumped into his bike. “He’s a little crabby during races.”

“Why are you doing all of this?” Namjoon said, hushed, not trying to get the attention of any one else.

“For money, of course. And it’s fun.”

“Yeah, I’m just gonna go now—“

Johnny took his wrist and Namjoon yanked himself away. “Wait! Let me take you out sometime.”

Namjoon made the same twisted face he did at the gas station and pried Johnny’s hand from his arm. “Are you crazy?! You’re a criminal!”

“Aw, c’mon, babe,” Johnny laughed. “How about we make a deal, yeah? I win this race and you go out with me.”

“And if you lose?” Namjoon shot back.

“Then you’ll never see me again, fair trade, right?”

There was a whistle and yelling - the women stood at either side of the lined up bikes (there we four in total, including Johnny’s) and held up their guns to the sky.

“So what do you say?”

“If I agree, you’ll really leave me alone when you lose?”

Johnny threw his head back, laughing again, and then threw his leg over his bike. “Yeah, of course, I always keep my word.” He held out his hand to Namjoon.

“Get ready!” Taeyong yelled.

Namjoon quickly shook Johnny’s hand and ran off the the sidelines. He leant up against one of the cars. Though this car didn’t rumble with music. Instead, there was a static radio, and the sound of people chatting about what highway they were near and code words. Trying not to be too suspicious, Namjoon looked into the side-view mirror at an angle where he could see into the car; inside, a man was holding a hand-held radio, a laptop and frequency radio on the dashboard. His head quickly turned away and he jumped when the car honked, and then a series of honks lining down the street where other cars were blocking traffic.

Before Namjoon could cover his ears, the women fired their guns and the motorcycles sped off in a flash - he could barely even make out their shape as they passed by, but he felt their momentum nearly knock him to the ground. There was loud cheering and everyone began to disperse from the sidewalks, and wave after the racers, even if none of the could even see them anymore.

In less than a few minutes, the crowd moved back as the racers came back, slower, and then parked back where they had taken off in the first place. The first racer who had returned was the yellow and black bike, and Namjoon’s stomach churned. Johnny stepped off his bike and pulled of his helmet, holding it up in the air as people gathered around him.

At the trucks, people loaded the bikes into the trunk and strapped them down, hiding them with tarps and equipment to make it look like it was just a worker’s truck.

Johnny pushed through the crowd, his bike being pulled away by Taeyong and some other guys Namjoon recognised from the gas station, and to his prize. “Can you believe it? I won,” Johnny sang and winked. “Give me your phone.”

Namjoon was baffled, but he did as he was told, his hands shook handing Johnny his phone. After a few seconds he handed it and the phone dinged with a new message.

“Meet me there this Friday, and wear something nice.”

“I don’t recognise this place,” Namjoon piped up, his eyes scanning the address.

“Well if you knew where it was, it wouldn’t be a surprise, now would it?” He cocked his head, his eyes dragging over the casual clothes the man was wearing. “You should get back to your car, the police will be on their way.”

Oh god, what have I gotten myself into?!

Johnny moved back into the crowd and disappeared. Finally broken of whatever spell that held him in that spot in the street, Namjoon stumbled away, back through the line of cars, and ran back to his car. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” He yelled and tossed his phone onto the passenger seat, his head in his hands. His breathing was ragged: Johnny had won the race Namjoon didn’t even want to witness, and he made a stupid deal that he shouldn’t have made.

Everything just happened so fast, and Namjoon was always somewhat of a pushover. Johnny had looked so sexy in his shiny, black leather outfit, and his tattooed chest was glimmering with sweat and a thick chain that stirred something in his core.

He jumped as the car behind him honked and Namjoon looked up through his windshield. The cars had driven off as if there was no blockage in the first place. Namjoon took his car out of park and drove forward; as he drove, he saw no trace of any of the trucks, racers, or people that were there just a minute ago. What replaced them were police cars, with their flashing red and blue lights, leading traffic instead of the traffic lights.

For a moment, Namjoon had forgotten where he was headed in the first place when his phone buzzed, Yoongi’s name flashing with a message: Joon-ah, where are u?

“My essay!” He gasped and took the next left towards his hyung’s apartment.

No one dared speak up when Taeyong, Johnny, and Jaehyun entered the round room, all of them with bats in their hands, pulled over their shoulders.

“So where is it?” Taeyong asked, quiet but stern, as if he knew that being loud wouldn’t do justice to the fury that was burning inside him. When he no one answered, his bat slammed against the table, making the American men gathered around jump. “Where is our money?”

“Look, Mr. Lee,” the man at the end of the table began, his hands hidden away, “We’ve got your money, but we just don’t want to give it to you.”

“And why is that?”

“Because we know you yellow scum are nothing but a bunch of cheaters.”

“What the fuck did you just say—“ Jaehyun growled as he tried to jump forward, but Johnny held him back.

“Oh, we’re the cheaters?” Taeyong tsked, his bat pulled off the table and towards the door.

“Is that why we found this lovely lady—“ Jungwoo announced as he entered the room, a woman at his side; tears stained her cheeks and she was shaking in fear— “Taking bolts out of Johnny’s bike right before the race? Good thing we caught her before she did, and sent her along her way.”

The American men grew pale and shifted uncomfortably in their seats. The woman at Jungwoo’s side was pleading: “Please, I was just doing what they told me—they said they would kill my son!”

“I know,” Taeyong spoke, his voice more gentle and he gestured for Jungwoo to lead her back out. He obeyed and guided the woman carefully out of the room. “So here’s what we’re gonna do: you either give us our money—for both Yuta’s and Johnny’s win—or we’ll find each and everyone of you filthy cheats and beat you to a pulp until we get it, yeah?”

“I’m sure you already know that, though,” Jaehyun spat as he cocked his head toward the empty seat at the table; “We didn’t make it too hard to find your friend after we were done with him.”

The American stood up quick, a gun in his hand ready to aim at Taeyong, but the lights shut off at just that moment. The flashes from the gunshots sparked like fireworks, and died just as quick. When the lights were back on, Taeyong, had his arm around the lead American’s neck while Jaehyun, Johnny, and now Jungwoo, Yuta, and Haechan pinning the others to the table. The guns were taken and shoved into the back of their pants, out of the Americans’ reach.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” Taeyong whispered, his arms flexing, making the American choke. “We won those races, and we will get our money—one way, or another. Got it?”

“Y-Yes,” the man gurgled, the grip on Taeyong’s arm firm, and slowly loosening due to his lack of air.

Taeyong smiled. “Good.”

On Friday evenings like these, Namjoon would be at home, binge-watching a series on Netflix with Hobi, studying for his next exam coming up, or sitting out on his terrace (which barely had room for his little chair because it was decked out with all of his plants) reading a book.

What he would not being doing is driving to a place he’s never been before, with the GPS giving more and more anxiety as it lead him deeper into the city, almost to whole other place.

Sure, he went to school in the city, but he always took the bus, so he didn’t get to really see any of the places that he was passing now: bars, fast food places, gun shops, pawn shops. Suspicious people walked the sidewalks, laughing, arguing, or stumbling. Namjoon’s grip on the wheel tightened and he ducked a little.

His GPS directed him further and the lights around him grew more neon, and bars became clubs, and the fast food became fancier restaurants. “Okay, okay...” He mumbled, “Maybe this won’t be so bad.”

Namjoon didn’t even have to keep the GPS on when he spotted Johnny on a sidewalk, standing just by his bike while talking to some women who were waiting outside the club he had told him to meet him at. He cringed and drove down to where the public parking garage was. For a moment, just after he had shut off the ignition, Namjoon sat in the car and really evaluated the situation.

He didn’t like clubs all too much, but at the same time he had only ever been to one in his freshman year of college - Yoongi and Seokjin (his friend from the theatre hall just a block away from his music production class) had snuck him in just after he turned nineteen and he hated it. It was a club that didn’t really have the best security to even question Namjoon’s fake ID. Yoongi and Seokjin had abandoned him at one point, and got hit on by some older drunk woman. Namjoon shivered recalling the memory.

This was a much fancier side of the city, in his opinion - even the cars around him were much nicer than his own - and the club had a long line of people dressed in cool clothes that Namjoon could never afford. He looked down at his own outfit: a tan shirt, some black pants, and a unique scarf that Hoseok had told him to wear, satin with blue stripes and gold designs like off a seafood menu.

“God I look so stupid,” he grumbled, but he felt more embarrassed leaving his collarbones and neck so exposed due to the wideness of his shirt’s collar. A deep breath later made him realise he was still in the car and it had become stuffy. Namjoon quickly exited the car, locked it almost ten times, and finally walked out of the garage towards the club where Johnny was waiting.

As Namjoon walked up, he took notice of Johnny’s outfit: it reminded him of those karate gies, but was short sleeved and untied in the front so his tattooed abdomen was on display, paired with some black joggers littered with zippers and the same thick chain around his neck. And now he felt ever more embarrassed about his outfit.

“Hey sexy,” Johnny called out, his attention away from the women who were headed inside.

“It’s Namjoon.”

“Namjoon? That’s sexy too.” He flashed a smile and stood up from where he leaned on his bike. “So you like to dance?”

Namjoon ducked his head as he took the fabric of his scarf between his fingers. “Uh, I guess.”

“Good, c’mon.”

Namjoon turned and began to walk towards where the end of the line was, but his arm was taken. “Hey! But the line is—“

“I don’t wait in lines,” Johnny chuckled and pulled him towards the bouncer who moved out of the way to let them in.

No matter what, Namjoon kept finding himself completely baffled by everything Johnny would do. He could guess that Johnny knew this by the way their eyes would meet and he would grin, his eyes crinkled at the corners and the apple of his cheeks would protrude - it reminded him of a doll, just without the makeup. Namjoon couldn’t believe he was actually caught up in this guy’s smile so much that he didn’t even realise they had made it through a huge, grinding crowd to a bar.

“You want something?” Johnny yelled, his hand cupping Namjoon’s elbow (which he was almost grateful for, because he felt like he’d be lured onto the dance floor if he hadn’t).

“I don’t really drink alcohol,” Namjoon admitted and was pushed closer to the man by someone behind him who wanted to get to the bar. Johnny pursed his lips, his eyes amused and almost cheerful.

“Me neither, just wanted to ask.” His fingers rubbed circles into Namjoon’s forearm. “Wanna dance?”

“Uhh, I’m not that good at dancing,” he admitted and bowed his head again, but that only made Namjoon even more flustered when his eyes raked down Johnny’s abs.

“I’ll show you then, c’mon.”

Namjoon was being lead to the dance floor, bodies moving all around him, and so many of them touched him - either on accident or purposely, trying to entice him to join in their hypnotic sway of their hips. Johnny’s inked hand in his own was the only thing that kept him from being devoured by the crowd. Everyone smelled like alcohol and sweat, and the air above everyone’s heads was misty and flashed different colours as the DJ pumped loud erotic music from somewhere in the distance.

“Hey, eyes over here,” Johnny’s voice was suddenly in his ear, and Namjoon’s head snapped to look up at him, their heads almost knocking together. “I got you, just look at me, yeah?”

He knew his cheeks were flushed, but the dim lighting was in his favour, hiding it from Johnny. Namjoon gave a shy smile, like a dumb teenager who had never danced with a boy before. Which, technically, he hadn’t. Not like this. Not with a man who was all too sexy to even consider some awkward mess like Namjoon. Even in the middle of a club, Namjoon found himself deep in his thoughts, finding something to worry about, something to overanalyse.

His breath hitched in his throat, however, when Johnny’s large hands took his hips, and squeezed tenderly. “Is this okay?”

Namjoon nodded and reached up to lay his hands over Johnny’s, even if they were clammy and a little shaky. He took a step closer, their chests almost touching, and he let Johnny guide him into a comfortable rhythm. But Namjoon could feel the heavy presence of everyone around him, and he grew stiff in the other’s hold. Scared to be too close to Johnny, and too far as to bump into someone else. By the time the next song was playing, the couples and groups around him grew more rowdy. He didn’t even recognise the song; the bass pounded through his chest like heart palpitations and his head felt like it was cracking like ice in the sun.

The grip on his hips grew tighter, and he remembered Johnny’s words: I got you, just look at me.

It was then he realised that his eyes were fixed on one of the strings from Johnny’s gi. Heat bloomed on his cheeks and Namjoon moved his gaze to the man’s glistening abs, up to his chain that sat just above a large tattoo of an eagle, the column of his throat where an ink cobra wrapped around it, and finally his face that seemed to change shape in the flashing club lights - but each of them made Namjoon feel more secure. If he concentrated enough, he could feel Johnny moving him, guiding him again, and a small smile formed on his lips. That was, until his feet began to move, too, and then people were moving away from them.

“Oh, are we going somewhere?” Namjoon asked, his voice barely loud enough for the other to hear.

“Yeah, we’re getting outta here,” Johnny replied.

Namjoon’s eyes grew wide and he grabbed at Johnny’s wrists. “What?! We just got here—“

“Nah, it’s fine. You didn’t seem like you were having any fun,” he continued as they neared the entrance, the music not as loud.

“N-No, I swear, I was having fun!” Namjoon felt his stomach flip and his heart race. God, he felt as stupid as he did back in junior high when he admitted to one of his friends that he liked him more than any of the girls did. Or when he told his parents that he was bisexual, and was told to move out. Or as stupid as he felt when he had first made the bargain with Johnny; and now, here he was ruining their date.

“You don’t have to lie!” Johnny chuckled and they were outside - the air much less suffocating than inside, and it almost made Namjoon dizzy as he took a deep breath. “I took you out to have a good time! We’ll just go somewhere else.”

Namjoon’s lips moved, but no words came out, which only made Johnny laugh more; his hands didn’t leave his hips, and the other’s didn’t leave his wrists. “I...” he finally choked out. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course,” Johnny assured and pulled away. “Besides, that club wasn’t playing any good music anyway.”

“So, then, where are we going?”

“You can come hang out with my crew if you want,” Johnny hummed, his leg thrown over his bike and he sat up to eye Namjoon deviously. “Our place is way better than any club. It’s a lot more... laidback, less crowded, and better music.”

His crew. The image of Taeyong from that night on the street, and then another of those guys at the gas station paraded Namjoon’s head. He figured if Johnny wasn’t an asshole, then his friends probably weren’t either, right? Namjoon was still a little scared of Johnny, and his bike, and his black tattoos, and the thick chain around his neck that looked like it weighed a few kilograms. But he liked how Johnny’s thighs looked straddling his bike, and his arms flexing as the took the keys from his pocket. Namjoon wanted to get further with him; he was still the sexiest man he had ever met - he had asked him on a date - and now was taking him someplace more reserved.

Sure, he could also be taking him to his place to slaughter him and add him to the body count buried in his back yard, but Namjoon couldn’t stop himself from stepping forward and swinging his leg over the bike, taking a comfortable seat behind Johnny.

“You can hold on as tight as you want,” Johnny hummed as his bike revved to life. 

And he did. The helmet on his head was a little uncomfortable, but Namjoon was glad that no one could see the terrified look on his face and the blush high on his cheeks as Johnny drove. At any turn, Namjoon was scared to death that they would lean too far and roll over, or when they switched lanes the cars wouldn’t see them and hit them. His clammy hands found their way inside Johnny’s gi, and were pressed flat against his abs, clenched tight and rippling against his palms.

The rush, though, was exhilarating!

Namjoon now understood the appeal of street racing, and wished he could learn to ride a motorcycle himself. One step at a time, of course. First he wanted to just relish in this moment with Johnny, his broad chest pressed up against his back and his head tilted back as he watched the buildings race passed him in a blur.

It took awhile for them to arrive at Johnny’s place, but when they did, Namjoon could barely stand up straight. His legs wobbled and he clutched tightly at Johnny’s arms as he climbed off the bike.

“Feels great doesn’t it?” He asked, his arm hooking Namjoon’s underarms and pulling him close.

“Y-Yeah, wow.” He flashed an embarrassed smile, but he felt his face twitch as it tried to catch up, like pieces of his soul were scattered on the streets they left behind and launching back at him like a rubber band. “Uh, so this is the place?”

The road had lead up to a more rural side of town, where those nice houses with a view and a pool were built, and now they stood on a cement drive way with many tire marks. Namjoon followed the marks to where the side of the house was opened up and above it was a skywalk - kind of like the one at his university. Johnny had lead Namjoon over and sat him on a step. “Sit tight while I take this to the garage, m’kay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

The biker nodded and walked off, steering his bike with his hands, before disappearing down a slope, almost under the house itself. Then, he began to notice was that the step he sat on wasn’t just a step, but a set of stairs that lead up to a terrace that overlooked the driveway. He huffed, a little curious as to what else was up there, but decided against moving. His head was still a little fuzzy, anyway. By the time Johnny came back, his helmet was off and his gi draped over his arm.

“Wanna come in?” He asked, holding his arm to a blushing Namjoon.

Without saying a word, he hooked his elbow with Johnny’s and they were ascending up the stairs - he almost felt like some kind of prince being led into the king’s castle. He eyed Johnny beside him, his tattooed arms flexed and his abdomen on full display. The heat on Namjoon’s cheeks spread to the rest of his face, down his neck, and flushed across his chest.

At the top of the stairs (which climbed a lot higher than he originally anticipated) was a the terrace - decked out with a cozy seating arrangement and an unlit fire - the entrance, and beside that large glass windows that you could look into the house with. There were colourful, flashing lights like at the club, and the faint sound of loud, but not as aggressive, music (probably r&b or lo-fi). There were silhouettes of people inside, but they disappeared and appeared at random.

“You said your, uh, crew—“ Namjoon began, but was cut off by Johnny’s chuckle.

“Yeah, they’re here too,” he said, and continued: “but they’re cool.”

He lead Namjoon into the house, which was unlocked, and there was the heavy stench of weed that made him cough. Johnny didn’t seem bothered, but he had a little smirk on his face as the other covered his nose. The house was very open, tall ceilings and large rooms with the big windows that the outside could look into; there was barely any furniture, and whatever there was it was low, and sleek. The lights were off, but everything was still lit up due to the white walls that reflected the moonlight outside. Johnny slipped off his shoes and padded around barefoot; Namjoon did the same. He followed him across the room, passed a large dining table and metallic kitchen, and into a room where the music, lights, and weed came from.

In the middle of the room was a sunken couch where a few people sat and passed around a bong while a woman danced around a pole that reached the ceiling. She was smiling and giggling and wearing nothing but holographic thong and triangle bra with a fishnet body suit. The men, who were the ones laying down and smoking, giggled with her and cheered her on, like they were friends. Off to the left was a bar where a few guys were arm wrestling.

“Johnny!” One of the men from the couch called. He made his way to stand, but stumbled over another guy and fell right back onto the cushions, laughing his ass off. “You brought your friend!”

“That’s Jungwoo,” Johnny said, the pointed to Namjoon; “Everyone, this is Namjoon. Namjoon, that’s Doyoung, the one Jungwoo fell on, Haechan has the bong, Mark and Taeil are the ones arm wrestling over there, and... where’s Yuta and Jaehyun... and Taeyong?”

“They took the other girls to their rooms,” Doyoung chuckled as he threw some cash at the girl who was shaking her ass in his direction. “Cherry was kind enough to keep us company though.”

She laughed a bit and moved to sit down next Doyoung. “I think Jungwoo should go next!” Cherry giggled and Doyoung bursted out laughing again.

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Jungwoo called and shedded off his jacket. He pretended to flip his hair before grabbing onto the pole and spinning around. “Like that?”

Cherry whistled and took the money from her thong to toss at him while Doyoung was passed the bong. Haechan had sat up to smack Jungwoo’s ass. “Don’t mind them,” Johnny whispered in Namjoon’s ear and lead him to the bar where Mark had won another round of arm wrestling.

“This is how you guys live?” Namjoon asked as he hopped up on one of the seats.

“Yeah, but not usually as festive—“ Johnny replied as he twisted off the cap to a beer and handed it to him. “Jaehyun won a race and was paid today so were celebrating.”

“Oh...”

“That’s why the girls are over,” Taeil budded in, and on cue, there a loud scream from upstairs, followed by laughing and rhythmic creaking. Mark and Taeil giggled and darted over to the sunken couch to take the bong from Doyoung while Haechan switched places with Jungwoo on the pole.

Namjoon took the beer and downed half the bottle in one drink as a steady stream of moans continued to come from just above him. “And you pay for strippers and stuff when someone wins?”

“Yeah, but the girls like us, so they don’t ask for much except to hang.”

“I wish I had this much free time,” Namjoon mumbled, his head in his hand, but then sat up again: “Not to imply you guys are like freeloaders or something—“

Johnny laughed. “It’s okay, I know what you meant.”

“Okay, that’s good,” he smiled and finished off his beer. By now, he had focused in on Johnny’s shirtless body, covered in so many different tattoos he couldn’t keep track of what he was looking; his eyes wandered his pecs while his mind wandered to place where he began to imagine if there were more below Johnny’s waistband.

“Come join us, you dirty hoes!” Haechan yelled as he was holding Mark in his lap and massaging his thighs while he laughed up at Taeil who was trying to out-grind Cherry.

Namjoon looked over and pointed at himself.

“Yes you! And your oppar too!” Haechan patted the cushions next to him. “Stop being all lonesome over there!”

“Alright, c’mon, before they start throwing their snacks at us,” Johnny sighed dramatically. He let Namjoon follow him and they both sat perpendicularly to the others.

The song - which Namjoon found was coming from a Bluetooth speaker at the corner of the couch, someone’s phone just beside it - that played now was a slower song, but still had a deep bass, a guitar rhythm, and some effects that alluded to any other sexy song. The guys seemed to catch the hint and calmed a bit, each taking another hit of their bong before they passed around. They giggled every now and then, but their attention remained on each other and on Cherry, who reserved the pole once again.

Johnny had declined the bong, but once it was offered to Namjoon, he leaned over, as if he could sense his hesitance in the dim, rainbow lighting. “You don’t have to,” he assured.

Namjoon had taken it though, and held it in his hands as if he had experience with chain smoking. And it was true - he, Hoseok, and Yoongi smoked every now and then when he was especially stressed. Like now. In the back of his mind, he knew his midterms were next week and it nagged at him like a bruise he kept bumping into. It was one of the reasons Namjoon had actually showed up to meet Johnny at the club - he wanted to take his mind off of everything before he locked himself in his room and never came out until it the morning of his classes to take the exams. Not even Hoseok could get him out of that pit once Namjoon had dug it. The best option was to distract himself before he got to that point.

The bong was warm in his hand and he took a breath: “It’s okay, I want to.” Namjoon ignited the lighter and held it to the base as he inhaled the steam. His eyes closed when he pulled away; he held the steam at the base of his throat before exhaling, escaping from his nostrils like a dragon. He felt the room around him close in, or maybe it was just Johnny, but warmth surrounded him and he smiled.

The bong was taken back and the song changed again to something more techno.

“God, you look so fucking sexy right now.”

Namjoon chuckled and looked to his side, Johnny’s face inching closer to his own. “Seriously? I haven’t even done anything.”

“You don’t have to,” Johnny stated, “Just finally having you here, beside me is enough to get me all hot and bothered.” His nose brushed just behind his ear while his hand took Namjoon’s and brought it to his crotch. “You don’t know how crazy you drove me that night at the gas station,” he growled, and Namjoon felt the sparks of arousal climb up his spine, causing him to shiver as his hand was guided to squeeze the bulge against his palm.

“Even after I yelled at you,” Namjoon whispered, his voice lost to the pleasure that throbbed in his cock, eyes fluttered shut. He felt Johnny nod against his skin, and suddenly there was a wet heat at his throat, sucking and biting.

His eyes flashed open and he keened into Johnny while his thighs spread to relieve the sweat building up in his crotch. Namjoon spotted the others, and instead of them watching he and Johnny, they were busy in their own ways: Haechan now occupied Taeil’s lap, shirtless, and grinding down into him while Mark was being pinned to the cushions by Jungwoo, mewling weakly as the other stroked him through his sweats.

Namjoon’s attention was pulled away by Johnny’s lips connecting with his own, occupying the cavern with his tongue. He could barely breathe, but the lack of air only made Namjoon want to get closer - he ached to feel Johnny’s skin against his own, chest to chest, legs tangled, hands eager as they grabbed. With one hand, he pushed Johnny away, but their eyes locked: he looked like a wild animal, jaw slack as he sucked in air and eyes narrow as they raked up and down Namjoon’s body.

He never thought there would be a day that someone would be so turned on by him. Namjoon bit his lip and moved to yank off his shirt, the scarf he forgot he was wearing being pulled off as well, and he pulled Johnny up by his face to meet his. Their teeth clashed and saliva dribbled down their chins, but neither cared. Too caught up in the moment, Namjoon didn’t even notice his legs were being wrapped around the other’s waist until he was lift off the cushions and brought over to another part of the couch - where Doyoung and Cherry were sitting, but they must have left.

“Dreamed of this night,” Johnny grumbled between their wet kisses, “dreams of these lips. Of biting them, sucking them, fucking them.”

Namjoon whined when his teeth bit into his bottom lip, and sucked it till it was throbbing and about to burst. Luckily, Johnny had pulled away before that could happen. And, yet, he missed it.

“You’ll let me know what it’s all too much, right, baby boy?”

He nodded and grabbed his tattooed biceps, “Yes, but god, keep going.”

Johnny smirked, making Namjoon’s cock twitch under his jeans. “Good boy.”

The praise sent shivers down his spine, and Namjoon fell back onto the cushions, arching his back to let the arousal from his core spread through to the rest of his body; his toes curls and fingers dug into Johnny’s muscle.

A louder moan sounded from behind them.
He was able to just peer behind Johnny to see Jungwoo taking Mark’s cock so deep into his mouth his nose almost buried itself in his hip.

The wet sound of him gagging and Mark’s string of moans filled the room, but something inside of Namjoon made him want to make the same noises, but louder, needier. But he wanted to be fucked into making those noises. So loud that the couples upstairs could be hear him.

He was shy to admit, but Namjoon leaned up, his hands tangled into Johnny’s hair, let his lips ghost over the shell of his ear, and whispered words that stained the front of his pants with his precum.

Johnny swore he busted his load right there in his joggers. “Uh, for real?” He asked, already rutting into Namjoon’s crotch (grateful he could actually feel the wetness of his jizz soaking through his pants).

“Yes, yes!” Namjoon yelled as his hands yanked at his hair, pulled him to his neck as if to be claimed. “Rail me, just do your worst I don’t care!”

Haechan’s laughter filled the room but was cut off by a deep moan, followed by the wet sound of a deep-throated blowjob, skin slapping. Johnny ignored it for now, wanting nothing more than to do what he was told and fuck Namjoon into the fucking ground. “You clean, baby boy?” He hummed, his teeth nipping at the other’s throat.

“Yes, my roommate insisted I was getting fucked tonight,” Namjoon mumbled, still a little shy, but he kept on: “I cummed a few times thinking about you.”

His eyes rolled to the back of his head. Johnny could fuck this man raw right here, right now; if his cock was a living being, he just knew it would’ve shredded through his constricting pants and fucked its way into Namjoon already. He sat up and hissed as Namjoon’s hands struggled a bit to untangle from his hair. He didn’t mind, of course, he’s been through worse.

“I’m gonna make you cum so much you’ll see the fucking stars.”

Johnny was quick to yank their clothes off, till they were both naked; their sweat made their skin shine under the transitioning lights, and aided their movements as Johnny crawled up Namjoon’s body. His lips traced every curve until they reached a nipple. He smiled before taking the hardening nub into his mouth, sucking cute gasps from Namjoon until he was grinding his cock against Johnny’s stomach to find any kind of friction.

“Patience, baby, I haven’t even opened you up yet,” Johnny purred, his breath lingering over the other’s wet, droopy nipple, and warming it up. “Gonna finger you till you can’t tell the different between my hand and my cock.”

“Ehh, please!” Namjoon whined, “God, shove your whole fucking arm up there, I don’t care, just get inside me!”

The way Johnny pulled away so fast to grab the nearest bottle of lube made him lag - his mind couldn’t catch up with his hands as they squirted the lube right onto Namjoon’s fluttering hole, or when he had taken Johnny by the back of his neck up to his mouth, and licked into his mouth as if the deeper he went, the faster he would be filled up with the biker’s hand, cock, or both. Johnny’s eyes couldn’t stay open the way Namjoon kissed him, so feverishly, like his life depended on it, like the amount of saliva and hot, wet noise that came from his mouth was only fuel to his fiery arousal.

His fingers had finally breached his hole, and their mouths parted to finally breathe. Namjoon clenched his jaw and threw his head back against the cushion. “Oh fuck! Johnny—“

“Yeah? You like that?” Johnny hummed, his chin dripping and growing tacky with spit - he licked it back into his mouth and swallowed it, satisfied with the taste of Namjoon. The man below him twitched and canted his hips to meet the steady thrusts of Johnny’s fingers - all five of them - as they were inching their way into him.

“Use less, but fuck—I want them all the way.”

“You got it, baby.” Johnny removed his index, pinky, and thumb, and was fucking his rim with his middle fingers. He smiled and used his free hands to grasp at Namjoon’s hip, pleased with the amount of flesh there was to grab, and whispered into his ear; “With all this lube, it’s almost like fingering open a pussy. Hmm, love this boy pussy, so tight and wet.”

“You’re so lewd,” Namjoon chuckled, but was cut off when Johnny’s fingers brushed over that spot that made his cock throb and his toes curls. His eyes watered and his nails raked down the other’s tattooed back.

With each thrust of his hand, more and more lube was forced into his right hole, opening Namjoon up to fit two other fingers, till nearly his whole hand was being swallowed up. Johnny’s mouth had made its way up to Namjoon’s throat, leaving sloppy kisses in its wake, and nipped at his skin till it bloomed red. He absolutely loved how much he reacted to each touch, each swipe of his tongue, each steady thrust of his hand. It made his cock twitch in anticipation.

“Flip over, baby boy, I’m gonna fuck you so good,” Johnny sang and guided Namjoon onto his elbows and knees.

He wasn’t as graceful as he could’ve been - his knee almost knocked into Johnny’s chest (which would’ve totally knocked him on his ass). But, nonetheless, he was laying on his stomach in no time. Johnny had rolled a condom onto his length, used his slick fingers to lube himself up, and draped himself over Namjoon’s broad back; he was so warm, and he loved the way he shivered as he pushed his cock into his stretched hole.

“Johnny—“ Namjoon gasped, his hands visible clenching into the cushions he laid on, “Ahh-ha, fuck. Oh, shit.”

“I’m not even all the way in yet, baby,” the biker hummed.

Namjoon groaned loud and rolled his hips back to take Johnny deeper, silently begging to be taken all the way down to the hilt. But Johnny grabbed his hips and held him still, his fingers digging pale marks into his tan skin.

“I’m gonna start moving, ‘kay?”

Beneath him, Namjoon turned his head to look up at Johnny, tears brimming his lashes, and nodded. “Yes, please. Fuck, please move.”

“You sure?” Johnny asked, the sight of that single tear sliding down his cheek made him hesitate.

“Yes, I, uh—I always do that,” Namjoon assured, he rubbed his cheek into his shoulder and sniffled. “Keep going, please?”

For whatever reason, that only made Johnny ache even more to bring out more of those tears. He pushed in all the way and smashed his face against Namjoon’s, those salty tears slipping between where their lips connected and spread across his tongue. He kissed him deep and began his shallow thrusts, never pulling too far out, but always fucking in deeper, till Namjoon hiccuped into his mouth.

Johnny had always wanted someone like Namjoon to fuck. It seems a little sadistic to seek a lover who he could bring so easily to tears, but for Johnny, it was sexy to know that someone felt pleasure so deeply (in more ways than metaphorically) that it actually made them cry. Almost innocent, and Johnny wanted to cradle Namjoon with each little sob, but also fuck him harder.

“Please, Johnny, touch me, I’m going insane,” Namjoon blubbered, his head bowed, obviously embarrassed how emotional he was getting.

His hand moved from Namjoon’s chin to his leaking, untouched cock. It sat comfortably in Johnny’s hand, as if he was meant to hold in, and stroked it till it wept just as much as the man attached to it. Johnny kissed down his spine as he jerked him. With each stroke, Namjoon would tighten around his girth, and Johnny would twitch inside him. If he kept this up, he wouldn’t last long.

Namjoon pulled him out of his trans, though, when he said: “Wait, wait, I want to look at you, let me turn over.”

Before Johnny could register the request, Namjoon was already moving. “Woah, okay, not so fast—Ah fuck!”

“Oh my god! Oh, shit—Fuck! I’m so sorry!”

Johnny grabbed at his nose where Namjoon had just elbowed him (he might’ve heard a crack, but he didn’t want to think about that in that moment). He was still inside Namjoon, who had successful turned over onto his back, but was too scared to move anymore in case he caused anymore damage, and his eyes were set right on his heaving chest. Johnny felt the blood flowing from his nose into his hand as he pinched his nose, but a single droplet had escaped from his palm.

In slow motion, it fell, landed right onto one of Namjoon’s tits, and Johnny arched into Namjoon and shook violently.

His vision was blurred and he still twitched with ecstasy as he pulled out of Namjoon. Johnny shuffled away, sluggishly, and fell back into the couch, sitting upright, his fingers still pinching his bleeding nose.

“Did you... do you just cum?” Namjoon gasped.

“Uh.” Johnny looked down at his cock where it still twitched a little, but was ultimately deflating. “Yeah, I guess I did...”

Namjoon grimaced down at the drops of blood that stained his skin, and stood up. “Uh, where’s you’re bathroom?” He asked, awkwardly.

Johnny stood with him, moved passed the bodies of his friends who were laughing their asses off while others continued their activities, and waved Namjoon over to follow. Down the hall, the music wasn’t so loud, but they could people upstairs more clearly. They passed the stairs and headed to the bathroom that was strangely very open, and had the same tall windows.

“Don’t worry, we can see out, but no one can see in,” Johnny assured. He spat the blood that accumulated in his mouth into the sink before he ducked down into the cabinet and took out a first aid kid.

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon mumbled as he stepped up, trying to inspect where he hit Johnny, “I didn’t mean to do that... god, I always break something, or bump into something, or slip and fall, or say something wrong—“

“Hey!”

Namjoon flinched a bit at Johnny’s tone.

“Just... don’t worry about it, okay, have you seen me?” Johnny laughed as he washed away the blood on his chin and mouth. “Do I look like the type of guy that can’t take an elbow to the nose?”

“Well—“ Namjoon paused and remembered where he was in the first place, how he had gotten there, who Johnny was. Given the many scars on the biker’s body, he’s probably dealt with much worse. “Oh, right...”

“You’re so cute,” Johnny smiled, his nose now clogged up with a petroleum jelly coated cotton ball. He had also thrown his soiled condom away and wiped himself clean. “C’mere, let me clean that off of you.”

“So you think completely humiliating myself makes me cute?”

“I think it’s cute that you think you’re humiliated,” Johnny hummed as he wiped off the blood from his tit. “I should be the one who’s humiliated, I look like a fucking masochist. Came as soon as that blood touched your skin.”

“That’s what made you cum?” Namjoon blushed, reaching up to fold his hand over Johnny’s. He chuckled: “That does sound pretty masochist.”

“I swear I’m not.”

“Hmm, that’s not very convincing.”

“Do you need me to help you with—“ Johnny’s clean hand cupped at Namjoon’s hung cock that leaked pre. “This guy.”

A weak noise escaped his lips, but then he couldn’t hold back his giggle. “I’m sorry, you look so silly with that cotton ball in your nose.”

Johnny rolled his eyes. “You can blame yourself for that. I can’t believe I came first—“

“You can watch me while I take care of myself?”

“Oh? That’s a good idea,” the biker hummed and moved over to the shower, turned on the water, slipped his naked body inside the glass room. It had the perfect view of the city, and a warm light casting down at him from the shower-head. The glass of the one-way windows began to fog up, which made Namjoon feel a little more at ease as he stepped inside with Johnny.

“Can I turn off this light?”

Johnny nodded and leant back against the glass, his silhouette dark and almost like a shadow against the blinking lights of the city. His eyes grazed up and down Namjoon’s body, and settled at his big hands taking his own length into his palm, and stroking himself until his breathing was ragged and his other hand was pressed flat to the cool glass next to Johnny’s head.

“You look so sexy,” Johnny breathed, watching the water cascade down the valley of his flexed tits. “God, I could get hard again just by looking at you.”

Namjoon smirked. “What’s stopping you?”

“Mmm, the pain in my nose,” Johnny teased, his hand came up to pinch at perky nipple.

“Ha, ha, how many times are you going to use that against me—Ah!” Namjoon tensed and squeezed his hand around his shaft, edging toward his release. “I’m so close...”

“Cum, baby, I’m right here.”

“Ah, Johnny—“

After being under the cool water for awhile, the hot jizz splashing against Johnny’s stomach made him shiver and he pulled Namjoon to his mouth to kiss him. He could taste those tears against his lips and licked them away. “God, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Johnny huffed, breathing the same breath Namjoon had exhaled. “I wish we could do this all the time.”

“Why can’t we?” Namjoon asked, his forehead against the other’s.

“You know why.”

“Yeah, you’re right...” He pulled away and let the water fall onto them, wash away the sweat and cum between them. “I’m busy with my exams and stuff, too.”

“Hmm, is that why you came with me? To get away from all that studying.”

“Yeah... I hope that’s alright.”

“Yeah, of course. I don’t care what you do with your time; I’m glad you came to me though.” Johnny let his hands reach around to grab at Namjoon’s ass, pulled his cheeks apart, and teased his used hole with his finger tips. “And I hope you’ll always come to me.”

Namjoon blushed and placed his hands on the biker’s inked biceps. “I still don’t get why you like me so much, you don’t even know me...”

“You don’t know me, and here you are, mmh?”

“Yeah, but you are like, unbelievable sexy and you ride a motorcycle and have badass tattoos... I’m just a broke college student who can’t hold his liquor and rides his bike everywhere—“ Namjoon’s eyes widened. “Oh my god! Hobi’s car! Shit! I left my friend’s car in a garage near the bar!”

“Woah, woah—Calm down, Joonie, I’ll have someone get your car, okay? Don’t worry about it.” Johnny turned to pin Namjoon to the glass window. “Stay the night, with me? You can sleep with me.”

“Johnny, I... I have an essay to write and I haven’t even started—“ Namjoon mumbled, but his words slurred as Johnny’s hands led him under the shower-head, his fingers massaging into his scalp.

“Shhhh, let me take care of you, you seem so tense...”

“J-Johnny...” He whimpered and leant into his touch as he eyes fluttered closed. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired, I don’t meant to start getting emotional.”

Their lips met again and Namjoon sighed. “You’re too cute, I could hold you like this for the rest of the night,” Johnny whispered, “I’ll take care of you for tonight, will you let me?”

“Y-Yes...”

He knew that it would be awhile before he could actually keep that promise of coming to Johnny whenever he felt stressed or lonely or going crazy. Namjoon had exams and after that he had to sign up for the next semesters’ classes and buy the textbooks off of someone who already taken the class and try to find another job so he could buy food that wasn’t ramen and pay his part of the rent.

But tonight, he’d stay with Johnny, and be taken care of, like he never had been.