Chapter Text
what did he expect? did he really think that this would fix everything? fix him?
seokjin wasn’t even sure how he had managed to face anyone that morning. how he managed to look yoongi in the eye over breakfast kimbap, eaten hurriedly while getting dressed, taehyung bouncing on their bed all the while. five hours since he had blinked awake, stomach twisting and blood rushing cold in his ears, yoongi’s cheek pressed to his shoulder. certain that this was it, this was the end of his friendship with yoongi, the end of his time in bangtan. how did he get through any of it? how could he keep getting through it?
but yoongi was normal. everything seemed normal. nobody looked at him oddly. yoongi didn’t say anything, or imply anything, or treat him differently. everything was the same as yesterday, except seokjin was worse. he fought jungkook for one of the few chairs at the filming site, reassured jimin, closed his eyes obediently for more makeup, smiled for the camera - and every single second of it all, he was wet. he could feel it, soaking his underwear, the fabric clinging to him, and he had to force himself to feel every single beat of the music, every single minute detail of the choreo, just to distract himself from the way the seam of his jeans rubbed against his clit if he moved too fast. he managed, for some of it, and then he’d catch sight of hoseok’s thigh muscles as he stretched, or taehyung would stand by the fan and bare his sweaty neck to the cool air, or -
seokjin clenched his jaw, back in his chair, break time looming. his jeans were so tight, so close to him, and he was only thankful that they were black so the wet wouldn’t show. he closed his eyes. that was normal. they were all tired. nobody would be able to know what he saw behind his closed lids, what he was thinking of. it would be more suspicious to go to the bathroom than to just - sit, sit in his chair, and he was in the corner anyway. he crossed his legs automatically, and oh, it hurt, the denim and the cotton too tight and rough against his cunt, and he squeezed his thighs together tighter. maybe the pain would make it all go away. maybe.
he could hear namjoon and hoseok arguing across the room, something minor about the production of their next song that seokjin didn’t understand and didn’t care to. their mumbling was rough from lack of sleep and namjoon was too tired, or too fired up, to pretend his voice was pitched normally, so he was speaking so deeply it was almost growling, and oh, that did something deep down in seokjin’s stomach, something raspy and raw that made him feel shivery and strange. he was exhausted, and sleepy, and he wasn’t needed until after lunch, and so he pressed his eyes closed tighter, leaned back in his chair, pushed his hips forward into the pressure of his jeans, let namjoon’s voice reverberate through him. it came in waves, husky and low, and seokjin rode the swell of it, careful not to let it show on his face, careful to sit still. if he looked normal, just looked like regular sleepy seokjin-hyung having a nap, it was okay, right? it was okay. nobody would know.
namjoon’s voice was objectively sexy. it was okay to imagine it closer, in his ear, mouth hovering over seokjin’s neck, not talking about modulation and synths but - about how wet seokjin was, maybe, or how pretty he was, or - something awful about seokjin’s cunt, something seokjin tried to tell himself was degrading and bad but still made him rock his hips down onto the chair before he could stop it. his clit throbbed, suddenly, almost painfully, and seokjin had to clench his teeth tightly to keep quiet. he heard jungkook shout for taehyung, much nearer than seokjin thought, and he jumped in horror, shame making his ears burn hot. this was too much, he thought, too far. he had to stop. he had to get somewhere safe, alone, calm down, just how he always had. he had to stop.
he breathed, in and out. in. out. all he had to do was open his eyes, and stand up, and walk to the bathroom. easy. the bathroom was private, a little voice in his head reminded him, and his hips twitched down onto the chair. seokjin bit his lip, hard, and frowned. he needed to calm down. breathe in -
‘hyung?’ yoongi’s voice came close, close enough for seokjin to feel the warmth of his breath. ‘everything okay?’
seokjin’s eyes shot open, and he jerked upright in his chair. ‘yoongi,’ he tried to say, but his voice caught in his throat, and he coughed, wheezing. somewhere across the room, jungkook made a confused noise, and hoseok made a concerned noise, and seokjin found himself being pulled up to standing by yoongi, calloused palms on seokjin’s wrist.
‘hyung’s drink went down the wrong way,’ he heard yoongi say. ‘i’ll take him for some air,’ and seokjin tried to protest, tried to explain, but his eyes were watering and his throat was still scratchy and he was already halfway to the door, yoongi’s hand firm on his back.
they turned, through one door and then another, seokjin’s eyes on the floor, ears burning with embarrassment. had yoongi seen? had anyone else seenn? there were bathroom tiles under his feet, he realised, and he looked up. ‘this isn’t outside,’ he said, croakily, stupidly.
‘hm,’ yoongi said, leaning against the sink. brow furrowed. ‘i thought maybe you’d need some privacy, hyung.’
seokjin opened his mouth, and closed it again. what could he say? deny it, after that? god. was this it? breaking point? yoongi couldn’t be soft and kind forever, couldn’t keep seokjin’s dirty little secret forever. he can’t help it can only go so far, can’t cover up being so horny and disgusting that you start humping your chair in the middle of a soundstage.
seokjin was still staring at the floor, and the toes of yoongi’s shoes stepped into vision, carefully, one at a time. gentle.
‘hyung?’ yoongi whispered.
seokjin didn’t deserve this. not after last night, not after today, never. he shook his head, lips pressed tightly together, and yoongi reached out to hold seokjin’s hand. rough skin, soft touch.
‘hyung. talk to me? it’s just me, nobody else. i know you, remember? i know you’re feeling… upset.’
seokjin winced. kind, tactful yoongi. upset. if only.
they stood in silence for a moment, yoongi’s thumb drawing circles on seokjin’s palm. maybe it was meant to be soothing, or reassuring, but all it did was electrify seokjin, making his stomach twist and turn, the rasp of skin on skin making his hands and knees feel weak. yoongi’s hand tightened, and seokjin’s breath stuttered.
‘jinnie, sweetheart,’ yoongi said, breaking the silence, and seokjin exhaled suddenly, almost whimpering. it flooded through him, the memories of last night. yoongi encouraging him, yoongi touching himself, yoongi looking up at him between his thighs, and oh, how could he? how could he have done that, to yoongi, to himself? he was disgusting, and wrong, and he wanted it again, now, and later, and again and again and again.
‘oh, baby,’ yoongi whispered, laying a hand on seokjin’s chest, flat on his sternum, and seokjin realised he was breathing too fast. ‘you really are upset, huh?’
seokjin nodded, and yoongi stepped closer. he could feel the heat radiating off yoongi now, and seokjin wanted him, wanted his hand there, on seokjin’s cunt, the pressure of his jeans wasn’t enough any more. he felt dizzy with it, the feeling of yoongi’s knees against his, the bathroom wall on his back, the itch in his hips, the shame - what if someone came in? what if they were - oh god, what if they all saw? what if they were whispering, taehyung and jimin gossiping, jungkook frowning up at namjoon, was hyung doing something rude, rm-hyung? seokjin felt his ears turn red and hot with the embarrassment, and he turned his head to the side, as if he could hide from yoongi.
‘did -’ he squeaked, voice rough. he coughed, cheeks burning, and stared at the corner of the ceiling. ‘did anyone else see?’
‘see?’ yoongi said, stepping closer. he leaned in, hand still on seokjin’s chest. breath on seokjin’s neck. ‘see what, baby? see you getting all hot and wriggling around on your chair?’
seokjin squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. yoongi’s knee pressed in between his, and his legs opened wider to let yoongi in, and he couldn’t - he really couldn’t help it, could he? when yoongi was so close, so hot, his voice whispering goosebumps into seokjin’s skin, his fingertips pressing one two three four five on seokjin’s chest. was it normal to feel so floaty, so light-headed, so sick with it? what was he supposed to do with all of this fire, running through him? yoongi hummed, and seokjin’s thighs twitched.
‘well,’ yoongi said, a laugh in his voice, and seokjin’s heart dropped. if they had all seen -
‘no, jinnie,’ yoongi said, just before seokjin broke. ‘you looked like you were having a bad dream. nothing else. you’re safe. i’ve got you.’
relief flooded though seokjin, his knees going weak. safe. he was safe. that had to be it, though, it had to - he couldn’t keep risking this, risking his job and his hard work and losing his friends - his family, letting them all down. he exhaled, shakily. no more chances, okay? no more playing with fire, he said to himself, and yoongi pressed his thigh close up against seokjin’s cunt, hand sliding down seokjin’s chest to hold his hip firm, and seokjin hiccuped, swallowing his moan. no more, he thought weakly, pushing his hips forward slowly to meet yoongi’s, dragging his clit over yoongi’s thigh. it burned, and it ached, and it made him breathless. no more, no more, no more...
‘i just didn’t want to leave you be though, sweetheart,’ yoongi murmured, lips featherlight on seokjin’s neck. his hand on seokjin’s hip was insistent, pushing and pulling slowly, moving seokjin where was good, where was right, and seokjin felt like clay being shaped, formed, ground down and built anew. he moaned with his mouth pressed shut, and yoongi’s other hand was on him, higher, under his shirt, bitten fingernails scratching gently across his waist, his tummy, leaving tingling trails across his skin.
no more…
‘you see?’ yoongi said, quietly. ‘you need this, jinnie. it’s okay. just get it out, and you’ll feel better, and we can go back to work. you’re okay.’
seokjin felt like he might black out. maybe he already had. maybe this was a dream? yoongi’s fingers were on him, and his clit was hard against his underwear, sensitive and throbbing, and he was wet, and he was panting, and he felt empty and needy and - no more, but maybe - maybe yoongi was right. he had more experience. seokjin should trust him, yoongi was kind and generous and respectful and hard against seokjin’s hip and seokjin ached, desperate - and he nodded. ‘okay,’ he whispered. ‘thank you.’
‘oh, good boy,’ yoongi said, and seokjin could feel him smile, feel his mouth move against seokjin’s neck. ‘you’re so wet, baby,’ yoongi whispered, and seokjin whimpered. he was. it was so obvious how much he wanted this. it was disgusting.
he wanted more.
yoongi pressed closer, and seokjin realised if he tilted his hips forward there was pressure on his hole, and god, he needed that, needed yoongi inside him, filling him, needed to feel surrounded and taken and possessed. ‘please,’ he whispered. his ears still burned hot with shame, but he needed this, couldn’t help it. ‘please, yoongi.’
‘mmm?’ yoongi’s lips vibrated against seokjin’s collarbone. ‘what do you want, sweetheart? is this not enough?’
seokjin shook his head, embarrassment searing through him. ‘more.’
‘more? more of this? if you hump me any harder you might hurt yourself, baby,’ yoongi said, concern in his voice. protest rose in seokjin, and he swallowed it down. he didn’t know. maybe it was true, that he was so lost in his selfish desires that he could hurt himself, even when it felt so good he could cry. yoongi’s hand was loosening on his hip, and seokjin shook his head, panicked.
‘no, please,’ he said, frantic, reaching out for yoongi’s wrist. ‘don’t stop. please?’
yoongi reached up, and stroked his cheek. ‘oh, sweetheart. it’s okay. you wanted more, and i’m going to give you it. don’t worry,’ and his hand was there, pressed against seokjin’s pussy, heel of his hand on seokjin’s clit, fingers pushing the seam of his jeans tight up against his hole. seokjin gasped, breathless, and he knew now, knew what was coming, the feeling that was coiling tight in his hips, the bright bright fire burning in his head, his hole tensing tight around nothing. yoongi moved his hand slowly, the drag of seokjin’s underwear wet and sticky between his clit and his jeans. more, please, yoongi, nearly there, more -
his hand was gone, and seokjin almost sobbed.
‘oh, baby,’ yoongi was saying, and seokjin could barely hear him. his ears were buzzing, and he couldn’t stop his hips from humping forward into empty air. ‘these are company clothes. i don’t think we can get them any dirtier than they already are, okay?’
yoongi’s hands were on seokjin’s shirt buttons now, and now they were on seokjin’s chest, bare skin on bare skin, and seokjin felt so frantic, dizzy, anything, please, yoongi, i need it, i can’t - and he realised he had been saying it out loud, chanting, his hands clutching at yoongi’s arms.
‘sweetheart, i’m just gonna touch you here so you make less mess, okay?’ yoongi said, kind eyes looking at seokjin, and his fingers were on seokjin’s nipple, pulling, and it was like a direct jolt of pleasure to seokjin’s clit, a burning line of light inside him, and he gasped, high and loud and lewd and he could hear himself, crying out like a girl, and he hated it and loved it and he did it again and again, yoongi rubbing his thumb over seokjin’s nipple, sharp agonising pleasure building inside him.
‘oh,’ he gasped. ‘oh - i -’ and yoongi grinned, and ducked his head, and suddenly seokjin’s nipple was warm and wet and oh, oh, oh, yoongi bit down, hard, and seokjin broke, all the brightness and fire and warmth collapsing in on him. his clit throbbed painfully, untouched in his sodden jeans, and he moaned, the orgasm pulsing through him as he curled in on himself.
‘oh,’ yoongi breathed. ‘oh, you’re so sensitive there, huh?’ he rubbed seokjin’s back as he shuddered. ‘such a good boy for me, sweetheart. you did so well.’
seokjin’s ears were ringing. dimly, he was aware of the bright overhead light in the bathroom flickering slightly, the silence broken only for his panting. his trousers were wet. his chest was wet. no more? god. he was so weak. he was never going to be free of this.
yoongi patted his hip gently.
‘better get your shirt done up, baby,’ he said. ‘we only have ten minutes of break left.’
seokjin nodded, only half listening. ‘yoongi,’ he said, helplessly. ‘is this - can i ever get better?’
yoongi drew away, suddenly, to look at seokjin properly, concern in his eyes. ‘better?’
‘you know,’ seokjin said quietly, fumbling with his buttons. ‘like. less - desperate.’ just say horny, seokjin, he thought, horny and depraved and disgusting, just say it.
‘you don’t need to get better, jinnie,’ yoongi was saying, gently. ‘there isn’t anything wrong with you - no, i mean it,’ as seokjin shook his head. ‘nothing. you’re horny, that’s natural at our age. and sweetheart, any time you need, i will help, okay?’
‘help?’ seokjin said, stupidly. his head was still spinning.
‘your buttons are wrong’, yoongi said, and he reached out to undo them, do them again properly. ‘yes, baby, any time, i will help. i’ll make you feel good, and then you can get on with your day. help you be less distracted, yeah? get it off your mind so you can focus on work?’
‘that makes sense,’ seokjin said. did it? maybe? maybe it was the only option, to give in to his urges in a controlled environment, just one person, safe, and then be able to work, dance, perform, practice, without thinking about namjoon naked or the time he walked into the house to see taehyung bouncing on hoseok’s lap, eyes closed, t-shirt balled up in his mouth. yeah. without thinking about any of that. ‘makes a lot of sense.’
‘good boy,’ yoongi said, and smiled. ‘just you and me. whenever you need.’