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Seokjin is fucking tired.
It doesn’t help that they’re thousands of miles away from home, the freshly updated dorm that they haven’t been able to spend much time in a mere dream now. MAMA, MMA, major award shows of the season, his birthday crammed somewhere in the middle, and he’s near ripping out his own hair with exhaustion. He's running out of asprin, athlete bands, bandages, and he's a step away from clambouring into a week long sleep.
But its still nice, to huddle together after their ‘world performers’ award, to feel the trembling arms of each member as they hold each other wordlessly after a performance. They’re drawn thin even after only 2 years after their debut, but their eyes remain bright. They're hopeful, just started their hopefully long journey.
Regardless, Seokjin’s convinced that his dick is going to shrivel and fall off by the end of this year.
He sits in the bathtub, on some god forsaken day in December. It’s a little after his birthday (which he’s a little disappointed about, but he can’t blame the weary smoke of tiredness rolling off the other’s shoulders.) where he bought a sad looking cupcake for himself, and there’s some sort of filming going on.
They’re testing the cameras, staff roaming around the hotel room they’re crammed in to make sure every device is on and ready, (this is the third time they’re doing this, thanks to a very graceful member, Kim Namjoon.) and they pop in where Seokjin’s settled, explaining how where the power button and focus of the camera is.
Seokjin nods along dimly, willing the staff to leave as quickly as possible. They finally do, and he sighs as he sinks into himself. He hears Hoseok clambering in the background, sitting on the lid of the toilet. They’re separated by a flimsy screen, which is just barely opaque and is made of something that Namjoon can break with a flick of a finger.
The M-Pd ball man slides the screen open, nearly knocking his headpiece into the narrow sides of the entry. He hisses, a dark lowly sound that makes Seokjin twitch. Giving a thumbs up, he assures that he’s alright, and Seokjin’s mouth quirks into the barest of smiles.
He’s seen the M-pd before, last year when he had scared the shit out of him by blotting himself into sudden existence behind him and the members. It's fun, flirty the way he slides over M-pd's shoulders like an old friend, whispering and laughing an inch away from the man's ball-mask. He's seen jokes poke at his relationship with the pd-ball man, fans complaining that he showed more affection to him than ARMY, but it's all in good humour.
He isn’t sure if it’s the same person now, but the figure and height are about the same, his shirt neatly tucked into a pair of jeans which-
Seokjin’s mouth dries.
-which perfectly outlines the huge bulge of his crotch.
Where he’s sitting, he’s at the perfect level of the other man’s hips, and he can vividly imagine the beautiful curve of his giant cock, straining against his underwear desperately, and fuck he shouldn’t be thinking about some most likely married, middle aged man on a fucking set. But sue him, he’s horny, hungry and so, so tired, he lets his imagination go wild, as a sort of sick birthday present.
Considering the PD’s face is completely concealed, it’s easy to imagine a set of hands, a blurry random face against the crook of his neck, edging him till he cries. It’s so easy to let himself flood with his imaginations, but he’s pathetically alone, has been for years, and will be for the next few ones as well.
His mouth twists with an ugly emotion.
Seokjin hears someone clear their throat, and realises it’s the PD staring down at him with…concern? It wasn’t like he could see beyond the giant glowing ‘M’ on his mask. But he watches him hesitantly reach for the idol’s shoulder, kneading into the plane of muscle with practiced care.
He relaxes, melting into a pile of goo in his pink hoodie. He doesn’t know this man at all, at least beyond the ridiculous ball-mask, but somehow the anonymity feels nice. The red pulsing of the recordings vanquished, the control over the camera given to him.
There’s a particular sharp press into his sore muscles, and a soft moan is punched out of his lungs.
Seokjin nearly drops the camera in a hurry to clasp his mouth shut. Behind them, Hoseok shuffles, head perking at the sound in the otherwise silent room. His heart plummets to his gut, lungs crushed under the pit of his own embarrassment as he looks up to the PD with an apology rolling off his tongue.
The man seems to have turned into a store mannequin; hands poised perfectly shy of Seokjin’s body. It takes minutes for him to somehow melt from his frozen position, and he reaches up to scratch at non-existent hair.
But the damage is done, and Seokjin wallows in shame as his dick stirs in his pants.
He throws his head against the wall, covering his face with the hand he’s not holding the camera with. He doesn’t care if his skull hits harder than he intended to. Maybe it would kill off his steadily growing hardness. Maybe it would cause the pain to be transferred to where his treacherous sex appendage lies, trying to anger himself enough to deflate his erection. But its laughably futile.
There’s a wash of voices behind him, a lone Tae bellowing a declaration of war while Jimin laughs and likely rolls on the floor. The bed creaks, and Seokjin blaringly hopes that no one breaks a limb in the next few seconds. The silence has been torn like wet tissue paper, and even Hoseok’s leapt off the toilet seat, giggling and clapping at the nonsense that proceeds right before the filming.
Seokjin feels a bit detached from the surroundings, his members, trying to will his blood away from his crotch as the PD leaves to check on with the other staff. As soon as the flimsy screen shuts, his hands are on his clothed cock. He spreads his thighs, one foot hanging off the edge of the bathtub, whimpering as he roughly palms himself to get rid of the heat.
He’s grateful for the voices and shuffling that choke and crumble the groans tearing from his throat. Still, he bites onto the collar of his hoodie, muffling one particularly loud whine that escapes when he teases the head. He’s mistaken his attempt to chase away the fire with fire, and now he’s swarming with a torrent of desire, buzzing and poking against his gut, coaxing him to give in. It’s not enough, not enough-
The screen swivels open suddenly, and it takes two seconds for Seokjin to wretch himself away from the tendrils of his neediness. But he’s too slow, and the PD’s returned in his ball-head glory, Seokjin staring at him with prickles of tears in his eyes, and one hand on his dick.
Seokjin billows red, his pulse thrumming in his ears.
“It’s not what it looks like, I was just-“
Hoseok returns from wherever he’s clambered off to, and unceremoniously plops himself back onto the toilet seat, humming something to himself.
Seokjin presses his lips together, eating up the rest of his sentence.
This time, he’s grateful that he can’t see whatever expression the PD holds, every quirk and bend of skin on a face obscured by black. But Seokjin can tell by the way he stiffens, that he’s seen way more than what he was supposed to.
Seokjin to his credit, at least pulls his legs together, knees up to his chest as he uses all of his willpower to not scream into his hands. The camera trembles in his grip as he thinks how fucked he’s going to be once the PD blabs about how the Kim fucking Seokjin was masturbating in the god-damned bathtub at a-
A hand carefully trails against his scalp.
He immediately jolts, lifting his head to see the PD standing a lot closer than he had before. His hand lifts from the idol’s hair momentarily, and then settles back for an awkward pat, as if reassuring him that ‘it’s okay that you’ve jerked off in front of a total stranger, I've seen worse things in the idol world’ Seokjin laps up every word of their temporary telepathic link.
But it’s been a while since Seokjin’s been simply touched like this, in an intimate space with him and another person, where no one (more or less) isn’t paying attention to him.
He thinks about seeing his mother at their most recent concert, so close yet so far away from her frail, loving arms. He thinks about the members too tired to celebrate his birthday. He thinks about the sad floppy cupcake, about Jungkook’s playful nudges which were now sparse, Yoongi’s hands clasping around his own a long, long time back, and-
A choked off murmur of alarm arouses him from his slumber of thoughts, and he feels a tissue against the wet of his cheek before he sees the PD’s fingers, gently patting away the fresh crystals of tears that pool down his skin.
“Oh-“ Jin chokes, quickly clears his throat of any sign of hurt before taking a deep breath. He’s immediately pulling himself back into reality, faster than he normally would, considering there was a stranger right in front of him.
“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-“
-And the stupid ball is right in front of him. The sparkly ‘M’ smelting diamonds in his eyes, drawing him in, and without thinking, he plants a pouty kiss onto the plastic.
Seokjin reels back. “Oh, fuck-"
“Hyung, is everything alright in there?” Hoseok yells, pounding at the screen.
“YES! Yes, I’m-” He squeaks, watching the PD stand dazedly. “I’m perfectly fine!”
No, he isn’t fucking fine, because now the crotch is right back in his face, and worst of all, he wants it. He wants another human being to touch, because the strain in his pants is messing with his head, and he’s the biggest whore on this entire fucking planet.
The angel on his shoulder gets abruptly murdered, and the voices of dick, dick, dick, overwhelm his mind. Hell, even his devil isn’t this shameful, so it seems like he had only himself to blame.
The M-Pd hasn’t screamed or scrambled back to report his kiss to the staff, which Seokjin takes as a good sign. Rather he looks…amused? Concerned? Fuck it was hard to tell by the crook of his head, and for a moment, the two of them stare at each other in the dimness, all alone.
Alone.
Seokjin’s brain hatches a wonderful, hundred percent horny fuelled idea.
He tips his neck back, exposing the plane of his smooth skin, Adam’s apple prominent against the expanse of gold. His eyes half shut, narrowing down to blur out the sharpness of his gaze, make him look more inebriated even though he hasn’t had a drink in weeks. He looks ready to take, to get pushed down into the floor of the tub and get fucked till he sees stars.
He knows he looks deadly like this, all flushed and red, even though warning bells are blaring in the back of his mind, knowing that one wrong move could fuck up his entire life. But he tells himself that he deserves it, needs someone to touch him, rough him up a little.
The M-PD’s neck bobs as he swallows, still very much fixated on Seokjin.
He takes another step further, spreading his legs shyly, his confidence steaming down to near nothingness when he exposes the strain against his pants. Seokjin flicks his eyes towards his crotch, and then back onto the PD with a sigh that hints to the beginnings of a moan.
Seokjin’s gaze drops down delicately to where the PD’s glorious cock resides, and to his glee, there’s a more prominent bulge than there had been before.
He’s interested.
Trying not to get too excited, he nearly twists his ankle in an attempt to sit a bit straighter and turn to rest his elbows on the edges of the bathtub. He’s greatly miscalculated the distance between the cock-almighty and his own face, when he nearly headbutts the poor PD’s crotch.
Seokjin’s quick to recover, putting on his best alluring face, fingers itching at his collarbone. He pulls a little of his hoodie to reveal more of his skin, drawing in fish to bait.
The PD doesn’t move an inch, but Seokjin swears that he hears a shaky huff from the ball-head, his fingers twitching as if they urge to take Seokjin right there and then.
So he makes his last daring move and shifts a little closer, until his mouth is mere inches from the strain in the other’s pants, and he’s exhaling hot breath directly against the length. He looks up at the PD, pouring his desire into his expression, irises murky with the lack of clarity now that the air’s been charged with tension, and all his judgement has been zapped. There's a hand against the side of his neck, a warning, asking if he really wants this.
Seokjin nods.
The next second, he hears the quick, sharp sound of a zipper, fabric rustling and shifting. Seokjin doesn’t look down, keeps hold of his stare, until a hot, heavy length slaps against his cheek.
He gasps softly, leaning back a little to take in the absolute Godzilla of a cock.
It's beautiful, curved all the way up to the blushing tip. Checking both boxes of length and girth, as Seokjin brings his hand to examine and feel the throbbing against his fingers. It's almost impossible to imagine it all going down his throat, and he gets a little dizzy at the thought of his air being whisked out by the sheer size of the cock.
Seokjin laps the tip, testing the sensitive flesh against his tongue. It feels hot and heavy in his mouth, clean and musky, a hint of salt when he drives a little bit deeper, taking in the entire head. Already he feels a little full, swiping his tongue in circles as he coaxes precum out of the tip.
Behind them, the track for ‘Run’ starts.
The PD hisses, the sound coming all hushed and reverberated out of his mask, and he makes a wise decision of pulling the hair at the back of his head, avoiding completely messing up his hair and raising questions about Seokjin’s rose garden of a face, and bird-nest of hair.
Seokjin pushes a little deeper, already feeling the traces of his limits when he reaches half-way. Deliriousness courses through his body when he sees the rest of the cock he must take, wants to take.
But there’s no time to slowly tease out an orgasm out of the other, and with a jolt he realises he has to record his own part for the song. He pulls off the other, quickly turning on the camera with shuddering hands and carefully cropping out where the PD’s cock stands, flushed against his abdomen.
He hopes he doesn’t look too fucked out when he mouths the lyrics, definitely making it sexier than it had to be. But he does this while stroking the PD, his hand dwarfing against the sheer size, so who was to blame him for nearly moaning around the lyrics?.
By the time the rap part has started, Seokjin’s carefully settled the camera's lens on to the blackness of the floor, the red light still on as he opens his mouth once again, his tongue settled right under the head, not moving to suck.
The PD is smart, oh so smart, when he grunts at the silent message Seokjin gives. He reaches to grab the back of his neck, and with one smooth thrust, slides his entire length into the back of the idol’s throat.
Seokjin’s ears buzz with incoherency, the sounds drizzling down and washing down his other senses to the feeling of the warmth in his mouth, in his throat, throbbing all the way to his gut. He swears he can come like this, just a single grind against his own cock, and he’s going to come in his pants-
He gurgles when the PD starts moving, impatient as the song continues in the background. He’s not teasing Seokjin or trying to make him beg. He’s using Seokjin, just like he had asked for silently.
The air heaves with the barest sounds of slick against his throat, pre-cum lathering the insides of his mouth, his tongue licking up his length as the PD incessantly thrusts into him. It nearly shocks Seokjin how careless the other’s being, not minding how he pricks pain against his skin, prodding and pushing bruises, a tight grip on his shoulders. Seokjin, realises with near horror, that he likes it, likes how the pain and pleasure melt together, molten like liquid ambrosia, feeding him with ecstasy till he bursts.
The PD grunts as he swings his foot onto the edge of the bathtub, forcing Seokjin down until he’s craning his head to the ceiling. He pushes his cock downwards now, instead of forward, and with the addition of gravity along with his steadily tiring limbs, Seokjin feels like he’s about to melt into the ground. He whines against the length, not able to decide whether to pull off or push more, but the elder decides for him, firmly holding him still with a surprising strength.
A palm presses against the front of his neck, and Seokjin wonders dazedly why he’s doing it. It takes a moment for his senses to log in to realise that the outline of the cock is bulging against his throat, and that the PD can feel every inch that pushes inside.
Seokjin’s core winds tight, teetering right on the edge, and the PD pushes him off, bringing his foot up to grind the sole of his shoe against Seokjin’s painful erection. His vision pans out to white, the room brightening and then dipping in black as he squeezes his eyes shut and comes in his pants, each inch of his skin jolting and jumping with every contact.
He pauses enough for Seokjin to take a breath. He hopes dearly that Hoseok’s too involved with the commotion outside to hear any of the other commotion that’s going on a mere 3 feet away. Seokjin’s a little too far gone to care, and he looks up at the gleaming ‘M’ again and rasps,
“Hyung, please-"
The PD pushes into him one last time, shallowing thrusting into his mouth as if Seokjin’s sole purpose was to get him off. It sends spiderwebs of heat in his belly, stringing across his remaining logical self and poisoning it to death.
A mere seven seconds later, cum floods into his mouth, shooting so strongly that he feels it against the inside of his cheek. A soft, warm groan pulls from the PD’s throat, blending in with the bridge of the song, and he pops off Seokjin’s mouth, making sure to make the idol clean him up first.
With the cum still in his mouth, he pans the camera towards his own half-lidded stare, down his lips, to the length of his red-bitten neck, and captures the bobbing of his throat when he swallows the release.