Work Text:
Namjoon’s life has become an endless cycle of creation, promotion, and performance. When he’s touring—like he is now—he loses all track of what day it is or what city he’s in. He doesn’t get enough sleep. He knows he doesn’t call his parents enough, and the text chain with his closest friends sits unread for days on end; a little red bubble with the number “143” sits on the corner of the app reminding him of all the messages they have exchanged without him. He spends most of his “free” time either working out, working on songs for his next album, or watching random YouTube videos in an effort to stop himself from over-thinking.
Despite all this, he never thought some of the hardest parts of his days would be when he’s sitting in the makeup chair.
“I definitely fucked up that transition,” Namjoon sighs as he recounts the prior night’s performance to his tour manager.
They are backstage beginning their final preparations for tonight’s concert in Düsseldorf, Germany (Namjoon had remembered to look up where they were this morning instead of his usual tactic of frantically asking a crew member moments before stepping on stage), and Namjoon can’t help but think about the mistakes he had made during last night’s show.
As the tour manager starts consoling him and telling him not to dwell, Namjoon hears a familiar laugh fill the other side of the room and looks over to see the current object of his daydreams and sexual fantasies chatting with two of the wardrobe crew members.
“Honestly, I don’t think anyone in the audience noticed,” Tour Manager continues to assure him, “And we went over it during soundcheck today. I don’t think you need to worry too much about it.”
Namjoon is fully paying attention to Tour Manager, he really is, but he can’t help but watch Hoseok as he animatedly recounts a story–or tells a joke?–to his captive audience. The makeup artist is smiling so warmly and laughing so genuinely that Namjoon feels the sudden urge to run across the room and hug him.
“You can’t let little mistakes get to you like this.”
The way Hoseok is waving a hand and nodding his head signals that he is wrapping up his conversation, and, just as the makeup artist starts to turn their direction, Namjoon quickly averts his eyes and focuses his attention back to the concerned man standing in front of him.
“I know, I just…I also stumbled over some of my words on ‘Domodachi,’” Namjoon says as he puts his palms up to his face and starts rubbing his forehead. “And my voice cracked a bit during the last set. It was embarrassing. My fans spend their time and money to see me, and I can’t even give them a proper performance.”
As he lowers his hands, Namjoon can see Hoseok in his periphery placing small bags on the table only a few feet from them.
“Listen, you’re human. No one cares if you mess up a word here or there, I promise you,” Tour Manager reaches over and pats his shoulder reassuringly. “We’re only a couple months into this tour, don’t be beating yourself up over the small stuff already.”
Namjoon lets out another sigh. “Yeah, OK.” His voice is less than convincing, he knows, but he wants to end this conversation so he can go back to wallowing in the misery of self-doubt. One of his favorite pastimes.
“We can talk more later, you need to get ready for the show.”
Namjoon waves off his manager and looks to the empty makeup chair. Hoseok has most of his items–brushes, sponges, palettes, and an assortment of colorful bags filled with various products–laid out on the table already and is now hunched down, rooting through one of the pockets of the large roller bag he carts everything around in. He’s dressed in his usual black skinny jeans and black button-down with the sleeves rolled up to just below his elbows. The man wears the most basic clothes every day yet still looks like a goddamn haute couture model.
Namjoon takes a seat and starts looking through his phone in an effort to avoid staring and to hopefully make Hoseok feel more at ease knowing the rapper is preoccupied and there is no need to rush.
Hoseok stands and turns toward him with his 1,000-watt smile. “Good evening!”
Namjoon puts his phone down and grins back. “Hi, Hoseok. Long time no see.”
Hoseok chuckles as he brings one of his hands up to his chest. “Do you want a little massage to start off with today?” Namjoon notices the small white tube he is holding.
“Please! I could definitely use it. It’s been a stressful day.”
Hoseok gives him a sympathetic smile as he pulls the cap off of the white container to expose a large roller ball covered in oil. He moves around Namjoon and pushes one of his tank top straps to the side to allow for him to run the rollerball along his neck and shoulder. A groan escapes Namjoon as he feels Hoseok apply pressure and slowly roll over his tight muscles. The roller deposits a layer of oil onto his skin that will continue to relieve his muscles after Hoseok is done. Namjoon doesn’t actually know what’s in the oil–Hoseok did try to tell him the first time he used it, but he was so preoccupied with the fact that Hoseok was massaging him that he failed to retain the information–but it works and that’s all he cares about.
After Hoseok has repeated the process on his other side, and Namjoon has thanked him profusely, he goes to work applying concealer and foundation.
“Could you close your eyes for a moment, please?” Hoseok says softly as he brings a brush up to the rapper’s face. Namjoon is having a hard time tearing his eyes away from the man’s long, slender fingers, so delicately wrapped around the brush handle, and his brain takes a few moments longer to register the question than it should.
“Oh,” is all Namjoon can get out before he quickly closes his eyes.
Namjoon wonders what Hoseok thinks of him right now. It’s not like he gets his makeup done nearly every day on tour and should already know when to close his eyes or anything.
The rapper tries his best to regulate his breathing as Hoseok steps closer to him and sweeps the brush over his eyelids. Hoseok is humming to himself softly, something he tends to do as he works, and Namjoon finds it incredibly endearing.
Closing his eyes may rob him of the ability to appreciate Hoseok’s visuals, but Namjoon enjoys these opportunities to take in the other sensory details of the man’s presence: the sound of his voice, the warmth emanating from his body, the occasional featherlight touches of his fingers, and his intoxicating aroma. Hoseok always smells amazing. Like a mixture of fresh pears, peonies, birchwood, and jasmine.
Despite harboring the biggest crush on Hoseok, Namjoon hasn’t really had the chance to talk with him much. Yes, they spend time together before shows, but Namjoon often feels conflicted about starting up a conversation. He never wants Hoseok to feel like he has to talk to him–never wants him to feel like he is obligated to due to an uneven power dynamic. Namjoon has noticed how affable Hoseok is with everyone, how much he loves to talk to the other crew members, yet he rarely says more than a couple sentences to the rapper whenever they are alone together. Namjoon certainly doesn’t want to force anything.
And, other than the brief time spent in Hoseok’s chair before shows, there weren’t very many other opportunities. Conversation was impossible during touch-ups between sets; Namjoon was always too pressed for time, and so were the other crew members who swirled around him like a tornado in order to ensure he was ready to return to the stage before the VCR ended. (Besides, his head was too focused on the show in those moments to even hold a meaningful conversation.)
There were a few times they ended up at a restaurant together as part of a celebratory crew meal, but Namjoon was always surrounded by his managers and assistant, and he could never find a moment to steal Hoseok away that wouldn’t immediately raise eyebrows. So, recently, Namjoon had decided he would just continue to harbor his crush on his makeup artist in silence and come to terms with the fact that–
“You were great last night.”
Namjoon is startled by the sound of Hoseok’s voice. He flutters his eyes open and sees Hoseok smiling to himself as he returns the brush to the table beside them and picks up a small tub of powder.
“Did you say something?” Namjoon blinks, unsure if he had just imagined it.
Hoseok chuckles. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he says as his free hand selects another, slightly bigger brush. “And I know I’m not supposed to say anything, but I just…I overheard you earlier, and I wanted you to know you were amazing. You’re always amazing on stage.”
Namjoon watches the makeup artist lightly dip the brush into the powder and tap it against his wrist before moving closer to him. “You…watched the show?”
“Of course!” Hoseok smiles brightly and brings the brush up to the rapper’s cheek. “I try to watch when I can.”
Namjoon hopes the makeup Hoseok has already applied is enough to hide the blush he feels spreading across his cheeks. Their bodies are so close now, and Namjoon has a strong urge to grab the man and pull him in even closer. But he knows that would be sexual harassment–and completely inappropriate–so he stores the imaginary scenario away in his mind for when he’s alone later.
Partly in a bid to distract himself from his own thoughts and partly out of genuine curiosity, Namjoon asks, “What do you mean you aren’t supposed to say anything to me?”
Hoseok continues lightly applying foundation onto Namjoon’s forehead as he responds, “Oh, it’s just etiquette. We’re not supposed to speak to you unless it’s necessary for our job. Or you initiate a conversation.”
Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow slightly and Hoseok’s hand stills.
“Hey,” he says in a strict-yet-playful tone, “I’m still working here.”
Namjoon relaxes his face as best as he can. “Why would they tell you not to speak to me? That makes me sound like a tyrant or something.”
Hoseok backs away from Namjoon and looks at him with a soft grin. “Oh, it’s not like that. It’s just standard practice. You know– professionalism.” Hoseok turns to place the brush and the powder back onto the table. “You’re dealing with a lot being on tour and constantly performing, so the last thing I would want to do is distract you or cause you any unnecessary stress.”
Too late, Namjoon thinks as he suppresses a laugh.
“Well, what if I want you to talk to me?”
In profile, Namjoon can see Hoseok’s smile grow bigger before he responds, “Well, then, I would be happy to talk to you.”
He glances at Namjoon, and Namjoon can’t help but smile.
......................................
A month goes by. It’s another day, another country, another venue.
The same old routines; yet, there’s a rather noticeable change–to Namjoon anyway.
He is still secretly smitten with his makeup artist, but now he has actual conversations with said makeup artist while in his chair. Discussions about what their school days were like, their families, their favorite movies, what they had for breakfast. And this, it turns out, was a terrible idea, because it only deepens Namjoon’s feelings for the man. What started merely as a fun work crush on a hot man with hot hands has now developed into a full-blown case of love sickness.
It’s another concert night, and Namjoon finishes up a quick conversation with Tour Manager before heading down the hallway toward his first pre-concert prep stop. The backstage of this venue has a number of rooms for the crew to utilize, so the makeup station has been sequestered into one of the smaller rooms, next to a larger room that is housing both wardrobe and hair.
Hoseok is still unpacking his items on the long, shallow table that runs along one of the room walls when Namjoon enters–spring-loaded door automatically shutting behind him–and takes a seat. Phone in his hands, the rapper props his elbows up on the arms of the chair and begins typing out an email to a producer he’s been conferring with about a new song. As he’s trying to come up with the right words to describe his vision for the album, Namjoon glances up and is distracted by another vision.
He watches Hoseok as he arranges and lays out his tools. No matter how many times Namjoon has stared at this man, he can’t help but marvel and take in every detail. The way his parted brown hair falls in soft waves above his eyes, his stunning side profile and striking jaw line, his slender neck and the curve of his adam’s apple, his sinewy arms, his long, delicate looking fingers and the prominent veins that run along the backs of his hands. Namjoon wonders how Hoseok’s pretty fingers would look covered with rings. Then he wonders how those fingers would feel wrapped around him–cool metal and warm, soft skin. How the veins in his hand would pulse with every movement.
Just as Namjoon’s mind is wandering off into the familiar fantasies he usually reserves for his hotel room, he suddenly notices that Hoseok’s hands have stopped moving. Hoseok has stopped moving.
Namjoon’s eyes travel up to find the beautiful man looking at him with a curious expression. Shit. Did he notice him staring?
The rapper quickly averts his eyes and focuses them back on his phone screen, trying to remember where he had left off on his drafted email.
He hears and feels Hoseok walk toward him slowly and his heart speeds up. He tries desperately to keep his eyes glued to his phone screen, but when Hoseok’s hands suddenly land on the ends of the armrests that flank him, Namjoon can’t help but look up and meet the man’s eyes. Namjoon is stunned when Hoseok leans in closer and brings his lips next to his left ear.
“You know, you seem to stare at me a lot,” his voice vibrates in Namjoon’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “Do you find me attractive, Namjoon?”
Namjoon's breath catches in his throat, and he has to swallow before he can respond. He’s imagined scenarios like this before so he questions if he’s still in his hotel bed sleeping right now. Is this really happening?
Hoseok pulls back enough to look into his eyes.
Namjoon can only whisper as he responds, “Yes.” The dark glaze over Hoseok’s usually sparkly eyes is making him feel all sorts of things. He wants to scream. He wants to run. He wants to pull Hoseok in for a hard, hungry kiss.
Almost by habit, Namjoon’s eyes fall to one of the makeup artist’s hands.
“I once heard a rumor that you have a thing for hands.”
Namjoon watches Hoseok’s thumb slowly rub a small circle into the armrest.
“Do you…have a thing for my hands?” It sounds like Hoseok already knows the answer, but Namjoon looks up and slowly nods in affirmation anyway.
Hoseok exhales sharply, and his eyes travel down to the bulge that is already starting to grow in Namjoon's pants. Namjoon watches one side of his pretty mouth curl up at the sight.
Hoseok’s voice is low and steady as he asks, “Do you want to see what else my hands can do?”
Fuck.
Namjoon’s cock twitches, and he knows Hoseok sees it. The man’s eyes shoot up to meet his, and Namjoon is doing everything he can to maintain his composure right now.
“I think that’s a yes, but I’m gonna need to hear it from you first, gorgeous.”
Namjoon, in a breathless voice he doesn’t even recognize, replies, “Yes… please, yes.”
Hoseok chuckles quietly as he places his hands on Namjoon’s thighs. He watches Namjoon’s muscles tense as he slowly slides his hands up, up, up.
Namjoon’s eyes are laser-focused on Hoseok’s fingers as they gently brush over his crotch, unbutton his pants, and then pull at his zipper. He closes his eyes, scared that he’s going to cum immediately if he watches the most gorgeous man he’s ever met with the most perfect hands he’s ever seen finally grab hold of him.
“I didn’t tell you to close your eyes.” Namjoon feels Hoseok grab his chin, and he slowly opens his eyes to see Hoseok staring at him with an intensity that is affecting the rapper in ways he didn’t think was possible.
“Something you should know about me, Namjoon, is that I like to be more…assertive when it comes to certain activities. And I like my partner to do as I say. Is that something you would be OK with?”
“Yes,” Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to say, because it’s the truth.
“Is that something you want ?”
Namjoon, losing any and all sense of dignity, nods his head vigorously. “Yes. Want. I want.”
Hoseok grins, his eyes heavy with desire as he rotates the hand he is gripping Namjoon’s chin with until his thumb is resting on his lips. Hoseok’s other hand slowly works its way between Namjoon’s pants and boxer briefs and rubs along his stiffening cock.
“Hoseok, I–” Namjoon starts to talk but suddenly feels Hoseok’s thumb press into his mouth. He groans when he feels Hoseok’s other hand rub over the head of his cock.
“Now that I know you want this–” Hoseok smirks as Namjoon wraps his lips around his thumb and starts to suck lightly. “All I want to hear from that pretty mouth of yours is how I make you feel.” Namjoon nods his head, continuing to suck on Hoseok’s thumb.
Hoseok takes his hand away from the rapper’s mouth and chin.
“Go lock the door.”
Namjoon doesn’t hesitate to obey his orders and makes sure to lock the door as quietly as possible. He returns to the chair but, before he can sit again, his pants and underwear are being pushed down to his knees. His cock is fully erect and already leaking precum. He watches as Hoseok lightly pushes him back into the chair and wraps both of his hands around his cock, some sort of liquid–lotion?–helping to lubricate his strokes.
Hoseok’s hands feel so soft and strong as he works them in tandem up and down his cock. The man has barely touched him, and Namjoon’s already embarrassingly close to finishing. He is used to imagining this sort of scenario in his head, but he never actually thought it would happen, and right now he’s filled with an alarmingly intense mixture of arousal and euphoria.
Hoseok’s grip tightens. He flicks his wrist as he reaches the head of Namjoon’s cock, and the rapper whimpers, biting his lip to keep from being too loud.
“Already, baby? But I just started,” Hoseok teases. His voice is heavy with lust, and Namjoon wants so badly to return the favor so he can hear the noises Hoseok would make for him.
“Fuck–”
Namjoon throws his head back and tries to hold back his moans, but he has to quickly cover his mouth with one hand to muffle the sound.
“I wish I could hear you right now, but we both know we’re not alone.” Hoseok momentarily leans in and presses a couple kisses to Namjoon’s neck. “Why don’t you pull up your shirt a bit and put that in your mouth? We don’t want you getting too messy, do we?”
Namjoon lifts his head back up and locks eyes with Hoseok. He grabs the hem of his shirt, bunching up a portion of the fabric, and brings it up and into his mouth just in time to catch another moan.
Another wrist flick, and Namjoon’s hips thrust upward on their own. “You’re so fucking hot, how are you even real?” he hears Hoseok growl as he stares at the rapper’s exposed abdomen.
Hoseok keeps one hand stroking him while he moves the other down to cup his balls, and Namjoon is now drooling onto the fabric of his makeshift mouth gag.
Hoseok gives him an amused smile as he speeds up his strokes. Namjoon looks down to watch the way Hoseok’s hand expertly twists around his shaft, and he thinks about all the times he has jerked off fantasizing about this very situation. But the reality–-seeing the way Hoseok’s hand flexes around him and feeling his soft skin against him, the pressure of those perfect fingers–-it’s too much.
It’s suddenly too much, and Namjoon squeezes his eyes shut as he feels his cock pulse and spill all over Hoseok’s hand. He groans as Hoseok continues to stroke him through his orgasm.
After a few moments of feeling like he has ascended to another realm of existence, Namjoon opens his eyes to see Hoseok smiling at him. Namjoon pulls his shirt from his mouth, careful not to let it drop too far down and touch the cum currently streaked across his stomach. Sure, part of his shirt is currently soaked through with his own saliva, but at least he can play that off by saying he spilled water on himself. He’s done that plenty of times.
Hoseok stands up straight and, with his eyes trained on Namjoon’s, brings his hand to his mouth and slowly licks the cum off.
Un-fucking-real. “Are you trying to kill me?!”
Hoseok gives Namjoon a mischievous grin before grabbing a pack of face wipes on the table with his other hand. He takes one and hands the rest of the pack over to the rapper. The room is silent as Namjoon uses a few to clean himself up the best he can.
Namjoon stands to pull up his pants and underwear and fasten the button on his pants. “Well, that was–”
“Yeah,” Hoseok cuts him off, smiling at him as he rubs sanitizer into his hands.
A few moments of awkward silence pass between them.
Namjoon is struggling with what to say now. Should he be honest about how he feels, or wait for a better time? Does Hoseok want this to be more than just a one-time thing? Or maybe a friends-with-benefits type situation? Would he freak out if he knew Namjoon wants something more?
Nervously, he looks at his phone, now sitting on the table and notices the time. “Oh, shit. We’re almost out of time. They’ll wonder where I am. Should we–?”
“Oh, yeah… right.” Hoseok’s smile drops, and he quickly looks away. “I guess we should get started.”
Hoseok starts opening bags on the table and picking out products. “If you want to sit, I can–”
“Wait!” Namjoon practically yells.
Hoseok stops and turns, and there’s a look of concern in his eyes–like he’s done something wrong–that tugs at Namjoon’s heart.
“Sorry, I just–,” the rapper moves quickly, grabbing Hoseok’s waist, and pulling him close. “I really want to kiss you. Can I…kiss you?”
For a moment, Hoseok stares at him blankly, and Namjoon starts to feel even more nervous. Maybe he read this all wrong. Maybe Hoseok really regrets it. Or maybe it’s purely sexual for him, and this would be too much.
Namjoon loosens his grip on Hoseok’s hips, ready to take a step back, but Hoseok suddenly grabs Namjoon’s shoulders and closes the gap between them. Their lips crash into each other, and soon they find a rhythm that rekindles the heat inside Namjoon that had been temporarily quelled post-orgasm.
In need of oxygen, they pull apart slowly, and Namjoon searches Hoseok’s face for any signs of regret or disappointment. Instead, he finds that Hoseok’s bright smile has returned, and Namjoon immediately feels giddy with excitement.
“I wanted that too,” Hoseok says, and the sincerity in his voice is making Namjoon’s heart melt. Namjoon knows he is smiling like an idiot right now, but he doesn't care.
They spend a few moments like this–in each other's arms, just taking in each other’s happy faces–until Namjoon suddenly remembers the time and where they are.
“I really don’t want to leave you, but we only have 12 minutes until wardrobe comes looking for me. Should I tell them we need more time?”
“No, 12 minutes is enough.”
Namjoon, unconvinced, sits back in the seat and glances at the time on his phone again. “Are you sure? I can just come up with an excuse to buy you some more time.”
“It’s fine, trust me,” Hoseok laughs. “Truth is, I like to drag out our time together as long as possible, so I always tell them I need at least 30 minutes with you. But, really, I could do it in 10.”
Namjoon smiles, and Hoseok smiles back.