It Takes Two (Kim Namjoon)

Felt

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***

My first act leading to this moment, I had always told myself, would be getting rid of the damn plushies. There was no way I was doing this on those.

I had turned around and pinned Namjoon to the closed door as soon after the door had been locked, putting my lips against his neck and letting my hands work on his button down. His fingers curled into my hair, tugging my head back slightly so he could put his lips on mine, warm and fervent and consuming.

His free hand held me against him by the small of my back, until it started to drift farther down my body and then back up the side, leaving chills and tingles as it went. Namjoon's thumb caught the hem of my shirt, and skimmed the skin there before he let go of my hair to get me out of my shirt.

I acted accordingly, finally finishing the last button on his shirt. I opened my eyes to see another shirt underneath.

"What the hell is it with you and layers," I growled, yanking his shirt off angrily.

Namjoon's breathing was rough and low in my ears, each pant sending a wave of heat licking through me. "Don't you dare pitch your voice like that at me and not expect me to get you naked," he warned.

"Well, that is the plan," I murmured, latching onto bare skin with my lips and kissing his collarbone.

He pushed me backwards until I felt the back of his bed against my legs. Namjoon picked me up easily and tossed me on to the bed, dropping me a little too hard. I looked up at him in the dim lighting, cringing when my skin began to prickle without his warmth, despite the heat beginning to build in my core.

"Namjoon," I whined, writhing slightly.

His warm hands pressed into my hips then, expertly unbuttoning my jeans. I wiggled out of them quickly, in nothing but my underwear now. Namjoon braced himself over me and kissed me deeply, gradually lowering his body onto mine. I wrapped my legs around his torso, finding friction where I could until he groaned into my ear.

"Here, you get on top," he said, bracing his hands on my hips and readying to roll us over. He overestimated the length of the bed and the strength he needed to use, though, and when he brought me up to straddle him, my right knee had nothing to brace itself on, sending me half falling on Namjoon and half falling off the bed entirely. "Shit, shit, shit," he yelled, holding onto my waist and pulling me back up until I was flush against him.

The mood shattered completely when I broke into giggles. "Namjoon," I said again, not finding a reason to say anything else when I could express what I felt with just his name.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry," he said, displaying his dimples.

I took a second to readjust until I sat on him, straddling him comfortably. He was still hard underneath me, but I wanted to take a second to enjoy what was left us separately before we gave ourselves over to the other wholly.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I asked.

"Keep seeing you from this angle? Absolutely," he assured me.

I rolled my eyes. "Yah, Kim Namjoon."

"Yah, Vivienne Moreno," he shot back, bucking his hips just a little. The feeling made me bite down on a moan. "Do you want to do this?" he asked, voice soft.

"Yes."

He stared into my eyes, searched them the way he always seemed to do. I didn't shy away, not anymore. There was no reason to, not when I was ready for him to see all of me. "Is this going to change anything?"

A slow smile started on my lips. "I hope so."

"You know I'm yours, right?"

"We don't belong to each other."

"No, we don't. But I would still want to come back to you. At the end of every song, every day. I belong to you like I belong to my hometown, because I feel like I grew up with you, and," Namjoon puffed a breath of air out, trying to formulate his thoughts. "Not like I've known you my whole life. What I mean is—is that—that, somehow, I feel like you're a part of me. Part of the best parts of me. That you are now fundamental to who Kim Namjoon is, to who I am. Like you have a stake in who I am, made me. As influential as a home, a safe place where I want to be and never leave."

"Always the lyricist," I said thickly, trying to swallow his words and the lump in my throat.

"It wasn't always this way. Me talking this much," he added.

"No, it wasn't."

"You know, one time you told me that you felt like we'd talked the least out of everyone."

"Yeah, I did say that."

Namjoon sat up then, and wrapped his arms around my back so I was nearly cradled in his arms. "What's funny is, even when we barely talked, I felt immediately like I could say anything and everything to you. But we would have these small conversations instead."

"Small, awkward conversations."

He shook his head, smiling at the memories. "What's even funnier though, is that even with the smallest sentences, I felt like I was trying to say so much to you." Namjoon's eyes darted around erratically, struggling with the phrases even though I knew he was comfortable.

"I felt like I didn't need words to know you. Even now. I love," I started, and sucked in a breath after the word, regretting the use of such an intimacy even with him, "I love when you tell me what you feel. But somehow, I love more when I just know how you feel."

His eyes met mine then, and slowly he nodded. "So promise me."

"Promise you what? You're asking for a lot of these lately." I laughed softly.

Namjoon smiled before pressing a soft kiss on the tip of my nose. "That we won't need to talk all the time."

"That'll be problematic. I like talking. You like talking even more."

He squeezed me tighter. "Why ruin what we know we're feeling with unnecessary words?"

I smiled. "Fine. I promise. No words."

And even without the words, I knew what he was saying. We were promising that we would know how the other felt, we were promising ourselves over to each other, signing the contract that said that no matter what, some part of myself would always be found in Kim Namjoon. No matter when he left me, no matter if that distance were temporary or permanent, we would always abide with each other. We were promising that we wouldn't forget how we felt, not in this moment nor any other moment we shared.

And as he fell down with me onto the bed, plushies sent flying with the scraps of clothes that remained, we did just that. We fell. We felt.

And felt again.

And again.

And finally fell asleep just before the moon could fall beyond the horizon.