Archive of Our Own

When Jungkook returns from a walk in the forest looking dishevelled and flushed, Seokjin immediately worries he's given himself heatstroke by going out in the sweltering midday heat. He doesn’t even crack any jokes as he grabs a cool bottle of water from the outside fridge and meets Jungkook halfway.

"I feel weird," Jungkook grumbles as he approaches Seokjin from across the grass. He's visibly red and unsteady on his feet.

"Have you been climbing the mountain or something? You're probably overheated. Have a drink," Seokjin says, guiding Jungkook over to the table under the awning, pushing him into a chair and forcing the bottle into his hand.

He frowns as he watches Jungkook fight to open the bottle for a moment before the seal gives. Seokjin thinks he looks just like he did the last time he had a fever.

Seokjin extends his hand to press the back of it against his forehead, checking his temperature. His worries grow when he feels intense warmth, which would be fine since Jungkook typically runs hot. But this is more intense.

Jungkook empties the bottle in moments, gasping as he drops it on the grass. He sways in the chair, flopping back further with a groan. Crouching down in front of him, Seokjin sighs, eyes searching Jungkook’s face.

“Maybe you’re coming down with something. Do you feel nauseous?” Seokjin asks, feeling his neck and his shoulders. If anything, the warmth of his skin has increased. Maybe it’s the sun, even though it’s only hitting the lower half of Seokjin’s back where it’s out of the shade of the awning.

“No... I feel—I don’t know—I feel off. Just… weird,” Jungkook admits, licking his lips as a shudder visibly passes through him when Seokjin’s hand grips the back of his neck. His eyes slip closed at the pressure as he melts into the touch. “Mh, your hand feels nice. S’cool.”

“It’s because I’m a vampire,” Seokjin jokes, trying to hide his worry with comedy. Jungkook huffs a laugh, wrapping a weak grip around Seokjin's wrist to move it to his cheek, turning his head to nuzzle into Seokjin's palm, sighing softly. "Uh… Jungkook-ah?"

Jungkook’s eyes open, half-lidded, unfocused, and he looks up at Seokjin. His lower lip tucks between his teeth; a habit he’s all but dropped, before parting them, his breathing shallow. Seokjin is enthralled, the unfocused chocolate-brown pupils and his flushed cheeks the only thing Seokjin sees.

"Your hand is so soft, hyung," Jungkook mumbles. He rubs face against Seokjin’s palm, humming in pure satisfaction.

It’s rather unusual, and yet, all Seokjin can do is sigh and ruffle Jungkook’s hair with his other hand.

“Come on, you weirdo, you look like you could use a nap. Maybe sleeping this off will help.”

“Don’t wanna.”

“Let's get you to your room.”

“Nooo, too far. Don’t wanna walk," Jungkook whines, biting at Seokjin’s palm, making him yelp and smack at the top of Jungkook’s head—Maybe he’s not too sick after all, since he still has the energy to be a brat.

"Yah! Fine, lay down in the tent," Seokjin huffs, tugging Jungkook up to his feet and leading him a short distance to the tent. Jungkook goes without a fight, crawling inside and straight onto Seokjin’s sleeping bag. As soon as Seokjin joins him, Jungkook wraps around him like an octopus.

“Oi, don’t you go getting me sick too! Get off!” Seokjin complains, struggling against Jungkook’s vice grip around his waist. The movement presses their hips together, and—Jungkook is rock hard, cock pressed firmly against Seokjin’s hip.

Fuck.

The sudden contact makes Jungkook gasp, and Seokjin can see he’s trying to keep still, but his hips are making little aborted movements, a kind of restrained grinding and trembling.

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I can’t—I can’t stop. I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jungkook whimpers, hiding his flushed face in the crook of Seokjin’s neck. Seokjin is taken aback, mouth opening and closing like a fish as he processes the situation. Seeing Jungkook’s shame-filled expression kickstarts his brain, stroking sweat-damp bangs from Jungkook’s forehead.

“Hey, it’s ok, I’m not offended. Bodies do weird things when you’re sick.” He speaks gently, with no hint of judgement. He curls his fingers under Jungkook’s chin to guide him away from his neck to look at him. “If you want some privacy, I can go up to the house.”

Jungkook looks alarmed at the prospect of being left alone, and frantically shakes his head. He moves closer to Seokjin again, clinging to him while notably keeping his hips a safe distance from Seokjin’s own.

“No! I don’t—Please don’t leave me alone,” Jungkook begs, “I feel really weird. I’m… I don’t want to be alone.”

Seokjin’s heart aches at the tremble in Jungkook’s voice. Whatever is going on with his body right now must be terrifying, for it to come on so suddenly. Seokjin wraps his arms around Jungkook and rubs soothing circles over his upper back in hopes it comforts him.

“Okay. I’ll stay. I can pretend not to see, hear, or feel anything if you need to sort yourself out,” Seokjin gently offers. Jungkook chokes out a laugh. Seokjin feels like he’s at least accomplished his task of helping Jungkook relax about the situation. “You can just… use my thigh or something.”

Jungkook tenses up again, and Seokjin worries he’s fucked up as Jungkook looks at him with a dumbstruck expression. Then his brows furrow, a whine spilling from his lips as he trembles.

Seokjin is alarmed, scared he’s having some kind of seizure, before he notices the little aborted movements Jungkook’s hips are making against his leg, and the distinct tone of embarrassed pleasure to the moan that rips from his throat.

“Did you just…” Seokjin asks in disbelief, “From me offering…?”

“Sh-shut up!” Jungkook whines, punching his arm, though there's no real power behind it. He buries his face against Seokjin’s chest, breath still hitching every now and then. Seokjin can feel his own face turning bright red, the tips of his ears so hot they feel sunburnt.

“Hey. It’s okay. Really,” Seokjin assures him, his fingers carding through Jungkook’s hair. Usually he’d relentlessly tease Jungkook for something like this, but the situation is obviously distressing for Jungkook; something weird is definitely going on.

Jungkook sighs and deflates, frowning and avoiding Seokjin’s eyes. “I don’t know what's going on,” he mutters, bottom lip jutting out in a slight pout. God, he looks adorable.

“Maybe we should call someone,” Seokjin suggests, pushing Jungkook’s bangs from his eyes and cupping his cheek, worried.

Jungkook jerks back, eyes remaining wide. “N—no, please, don’t. Don’t tell anyone I’m like this.” His voice is no longer whiny, but small and fragile, and it tugs at something in Seokjin’s chest.

He sighs, tenderly brushing the back of a finger over Jungkook’s cheek.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t. Not yet. But if it doesn’t get better in an hour or two...”

Jungkook relaxes with a small, shuddering breath, though he’s still trembling faintly against Seokjin’s body as he nods his reluctant agreement to that. His skin is hot, flushed all the way down his throat and now across his chest, visible where his shirt is riding up to expose tensed abs. Seokjin tries not to look, but it’s difficult to resist the temptation with the way Jungkook is pressing against him again, arms tight around his waist like Seokjin’s the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Is it getting worse?” Seokjin asks gently. Jungkook nods and buries his face in Seokjin’s neck.

“It’s like… like my skin’s too tight. Like I want to crawl out of it or rub up against everything until it stops itching,” he mutters, voice muffled. “Can't even think properly.”

Seokjin swallows thickly. “Okay. Then we need to do something about it.”

Jungkook lifts his head, his pupils so dark they almost swallow the brown. “You mean like…?”

Seokjin exhales hard, then pats Jungkook’s cheek awkwardly. “I can help if you want. No strings, no expectations. Until you feel better.”

For a moment Jungkook just stares at him, stunned. Then he groans and collapses back into Seokjin’s arms, hiding his face again.

“You’re gonna make me come again, saying that,” he complains weakly.

“Yah, don't say things like that so easily!” Seokjin says, mock scandalised, his own body starting to respond despite the oddness of the situation. He rubs a hand over his face before looking at Jungkook with determination. “Okay, let’s get your pants off before that happens.”

Seokjin moves carefully, one hand smoothing over Jungkook’s side in steady, soothing strokes while the other hand makes quick work of the button of his jeans.

“Okay?” he asks, voice low and serious as he curls his fingers around the waistband of Jungkook’s jeans.

Jungkook nods quickly, almost too eagerly, and then quietly adds, “Yeah. Please.”

Seokjin does need to ask what he’s pleading for, the obvious tent straining his boxers through the open fly is evidence enough. He helps Jungkook out of his jeans, working them down trembling legs and tossing them to the side. Jungkook’s underwear is already soaked with the evidence of his earlier orgasm, the fabric dark and clinging over his cock.

He knows something weird is going on, but honestly, he finds it kind of impressive that Jungkook is still so hard, and he can’t tear his eyes away from the sight.

Jungkook whimpers, curling in on himself like he wants to hide. “Don’t look at me like that,” he says, voice cracking. “Like I’m some… some perv.”

“I’m not. You’re not. Your body’s just reacting to something weird.” Seokjin ghosts his fingers over Jungkook’s thigh, observing for any sign of discomfort. When there’s none—only a bitten lip and a shaky inhale—he slides his hand up to palm Jungkook over his underwear.

Jungkook's hips jolt into the contact, cock twitching beneath Seokjin’s hand. “Oh—oh fuck, hyung.”

“So sensitive,” Seokjin mumbles, stroking him slowly and watching with rapt fascination as Jungkook rocks against him. The noises he's making are desperately raw and breathy. He clings to Seokjin as if he’ll float away; legs splayed wide, an arm around Seokjin’s waist and a hand fisted in the back of Seokjin’s shirt. Every time he moves, he makes an almost pained sound, unravelling harder and faster than Seokjin has seen anyone do so before.

“I feel…like I’m gonna…again,”

“It’s okay,” Seokjin assures him, voice warm. “Let it happen.”

He slips his hand into Jungkook’s underwear just as Jungkook bucks up again and chokes on a moan as he comes with a shudder, hips grinding into the touch and fingers dug into Seokjin’s side. It’s intense, overtaking his entire body; it leaves Jungkook moaning, until his breath hitches from oversensitivity.

Seokjin lets go of Jungkook’s cock just as he starts to squirm, but doesn’t stop touching him, shifting to soft, soothing caresses—a hand on his chest, one brushing through his hair.

“You did well,” he murmurs. “You’re okay.”

“Fuck, this is so embarrassing,” Jungkook mutters into the crook of his arm. He must have thrown it up when Seokjin was busy staring like a voyeur at his hand in Jungkook’s underwear.

“Don’t be embarrassed. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t even start this,” Seokjin reminds him, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You’re still burning up. Want a cold cloth?”

Jungkook shakes his head sleepily, arching up against Seokjin. “Just want you.”

Seokjin settles beside him, one arm curled around Jungkook’s waist, allowing him to nuzzle against his collarbones. The moment loses that frantic edge, and Seokjin's brain is finally catching up to the weight of what just happened. He doesn't regret it though. Not even a little.

At first, Jungkook seems like he might fall asleep, his body heavy and limp against Seokjin. His breathing slows, eyelids fluttering shut, and Seokjin relaxes too, fingers lazily tracing patterns over the slope of his spine.

But then Jungkook shifts.

He whimpers softly, thighs pressing together. His hips twitch, and he lets out a long, shaky breath that sends goosebumps prickling along Seokjin’s arms. He groans, frustrated, and presses his face harder against Seokjin’s chest like he can bury the sound of it.

Seokjin stills. “Kook-ah?”

Jungkook’s voice is small and wrecked. “It’s not stopping.”

Seokjin feels the heat pouring off him, skin flushed and clammy, and despite having just come, his cock is already hard again, straining against his sticky underwear.

“I thought—” Seokjin starts. He doesn’t want to make Jungkook feel worse. “Okay. Okay, no problem. We’ll deal with it. Just breathe and relax for me, yeah?”

“I’m trying,” Jungkook says, voice strained. “It won’t go away. It’s worse now… I need something, I don’t even know what–Feels like I’m gonna explode–”

He writhes in place, grinding slightly against Seokjin’s hip, panting haltingly like he’s trying to keep himself under control and failing miserably.

“‘M sorry,” Jungkook says, “I-I don’t want to be like this. Don’t wanna make you uncomfortable—”

“Jungkook,” Seokjin interrupts gently, brushing hair from his forehead. “You’re not making me uncomfortable. I said I’d help you.”

“But it’s not just touching,” Jungkook groans. “I need more. I don’t even know what, but—fuck,”

Seokjin swallows hard. His heart is pounding, and yeah, if he wasn’t hard before, he definitely is now. He’s been trying to ignore it, focus on comfort, on care, but Jungkook is squirming against him like he wants to climb inside Seokjin's skin, and it’s getting harder to pretend he’s unaffected.

“Okay,” Seokjin says finally. “Tell me what you need. I’ll do whatever you want. Just talk to me.”

Jungkook groans, hiding his face again. “Just… Please, please touch me. I need skin.”

Seokjin doesn’t answer with words, just kisses the side of Jungkook’s flushed face and slides his hand back down. The moment he slips his fingers beneath the waistband of his boxers, Jungkook moans like he’s being saved. His cock is already leaking and twitching against Seokjin’s palm, hard and hot.

This time, Seokjin doesn’t even try to keep it clinical. He wraps his hand around him properly, stroking him slow and firm, thumb dragging over the head. Jungkook cries out, hips bucking, clutching onto Seokjin’s shirt.

“Fuck, feels so good. Don’t stop,” he gasps, already trembling.

Seokjin strokes him harder and presses kisses to his jaw, his temple, anywhere he can reach. Jungkook is unravelling in his arms, desperate and so honest in his need that Seokjin feels something crack open in his chest.

“You’re okay,” he whispers. “You’re doing so good for me.”

Jungkook’s body seizes and comes again, harder this time, hips jerking, mouth open in a silent shout, before collapsing against Seokjin, boneless and wrecked.

They’re both breathing hard. Jungkook is damp with sweat.

“I-I don’t know how much more of this I can take,” Jungkook whispers, wrecked and close to tears. “It’s too much. I can’t think. I just want… I want something inside me, or on me, or—I don’t know. I don’t care. I just want to feel full.”

Seokjin’s breath hitches. His mind-stalls for a moment. He definitely didn’t expect that.

He presses his lips to Jungkook’s forehead and says, very quietly, “Anything. Anything you need, baby.”

Seokjin takes a breath, steadying himself. Jungkook’s trembling in his arms, flushed and panting, eyes fluttering at the term of endearment. He looks overwhelmed but needy, his body still taut with that electric urgency that won’t let up.

“You want to feel full,” Seokjin echoes, running a hand down Jungkook’s side. “I can help you with that.”

“Can I take these off?” Seokjin asks, tugging gently at the waistband of Jungkook’s underwear.

Jungkook nods, too wrecked for words. Seokjin peels them off slowly, carefully, avoiding any touch to Jungkook's too sensitive cock, already flushed and glistening and half-hard again. But more than Jungkook’s unusual ability to cum so many times so quickly, Seokjin can see the slick glistening along the curve of his ass, the telltale sign that something unnatural is happening. Seokjin kisses his hipbone, then lower, mouth grazing down the line of Jungkook’s thigh.

“Hyung,” Jungkook whimpers, watching him with hooded, glazed eyes.

“I’m right here,” Seokjin murmurs, sliding a hand into Jungkook’s own and feeling him relax as though something so simple is grounding. Then Seokjin takes Jungkook into his mouth in a single, smooth motion. Right to the hilt.

Jungkook wails, choked and high-pitched as wet heat engulfs him. His free hand flies to Seokjin’s hair, but doesn’t tug or push, just holds Seokjin in place, surprisingly gently. He’s trembling apart at the seams while Seokjin works his mouth over the velveteen skin, slow and focused.

It’s not about getting him off fast this time. Seokjin wants to ease the pressure, sure, but more than that. He wants Jungkook to feel safe and cared for, while still giving his body what it’s screaming for. He hums low in his throat, and Jungkook twitches violently.

“Please. Please, I—” Jungkook’s voice trembles, thighs shaking on either side of Seokjin’s shoulders. “I need more. Please, hyung, something… inside.”

Seokjin lets him go with a soft pop, wiping his mouth with the back of a hand, then presses a kiss to Jungkook’s hip.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Jungkook groans. “Please, I can’t—I feel so empty, it hurts.”

Seokjin’s heart aches as he looks at Jungkook, feeling so uncomfortable. Whatever is happening to him, Seokjin hopes it passes soon. Not because he has any problem helping Jungkook through it, but he just never wants Jungkook to be in pain.

“I don’t have any lube.”

“Don’t think… don’t think you need it,” Jungkook huffs in a watery laugh as he squirms. A strong bloom of something sweet reaches Seokjin’s nose, and he looks down to see the sleeping bag beneath them soaked with slick fluid. His mouth waters at the almost overwhelmingly delicious scent.

“Shit. Okay.” Seokjin settles between Jungkook’s thighs again. He kisses along the inside of his knee, his thigh, tongue laving over the slick skin and tasting the fluid Jungkook’s body is producing. It’s sweet and musky, and Seokjin has to restrain himself from just sinking his face between those cheeks and eating Jungkook out until they’re both a whining mess. He has other things he needs to do.

Seokjin dips a hand down between Jungkook’s legs and slicks his fingers. “Tell me if it doesn’t feel good, okay?”

Jungkook nods, already moaning before Seokjin even touches him properly.

He starts with one finger, slow and careful, pressing in gradually. Jungkook shudders, whimpering, thighs clenching and then falling open again. There’s no resistance; Jungkook’s body is loose and relaxed despite his distress. Seokjin pauses for a moment, then presses another in instead, and they sink in so easily he wonders if he needs to prep Jungkook at all.

“Doing so well, baby,” Seokjin breathes, pressing kisses wherever he can reach. “You’re perfect.”

Jungkook loves praise, Seokjin’s always known that, but right now it’s making him melt.

“More,” Jungkook gasps. “I need more, hyung, please.”

Seokjin gives him a third finger and watches him fall apart. He’s moaning so loudly, Seokjin is surprised no one has come to investigate. His hips twitch, cock leaking steadily onto his stomach. Seokjin curves his fingers carefully, and Jungkook arches, gasping out a strangled moan.

“There,” Jungkook breathes. “Oh my God, right there.”

Seokjin keeps stroking that spot, gentle but firm, while mouthing along Jungkook’s inner thigh. The noises Jungkook makes are so desperate, sweet, and raw as he unravels from his fingers.

“’m gonna—fuck—I’m gonna come again,” Jungkook nearly sobs, hands scrabbling for Seokjin’s shoulders.

“Go on, baby,” Seokjin murmurs. “I’ve got you.”

Jungkook cries out, body bowing as he comes untouched, clenching around Seokjin’s fingers, spilling over himself. Seokjin works him through it, kissing his knee and murmuring sweet nonsense as Jungkook shakes.

When it’s over, Jungkook collapses back against the sleeping bag, chest heaving. Seokjin slowly slips his fingers out and wipes his hand, then stretches out beside him again, pulling Jungkook into his arms. Jungkook comes willingly, boneless, while catching his breath, clinging to Seokjin like a lifeline.

“Still not stopping,” he breathes. “Need more.”

“Then I’ll give you more,” Seokjin promises, his heart pounding. Seokjin presses a kiss to Jungkook’s temple. “Whatever you need, Jungkook-ah. I’m not going anywhere.”

”E-even if you have to fuck me?”

“Psh, it’s not like fucking you is a hardship,” Seokjin hums, smiling at the strained laugh it forces out of Jungkook. It’s good to know he can still make Jungkook laugh even when he’s feeling like this. Even when he’s still trembling in Seokjin’s arms, his body flushed and soaked with sweat, twitching with aftershocks.

“Hurry, hyung,” Jungkook whines, breath hitching. “It’s like my whole body’s on fire.”

“I gotta make sure you’re ready,” he murmurs, eyes dark. Seokjin’s hand slides down over Jungkook’s slick thighs, fingers gentle as they brush over the sensitive skin. “Not to brag, but I’m not small, baby.”

Jungkook’s eyes flutter closed, brows furrowed in overwhelmed frustration. “Hyung… I’m pretty sure you could shove your whole fist in me right now, and I’d just beg for more,” He huffs, scrubbing his hands over his face.

Seokjin chokes on a shocked laugh at the comment, and presses three fingers in again, curling them with soft, patient motions. Jungkook’s breath catches, his body tightening, then melting under Seokjin’s careful touch.

“Good boy,” Seokjin groans, voice thick and low. “So nice and open for me.”

Jungkook lets out a soft whine at the praise, hands clutching Seokjin’s arm as he shivers. Three is probably enough, and he’s still slick inside—hell, he’s probably even slicker than before—but Seokjin presses in a fourth finger, just to be sure. He stretches Jungkook carefully, watching every reaction, ready to stop if it’s too much. But Jungkook takes it, gasping and arching into the touch, body loosening so eagerly around the intrusion.

“Come on, come on. I’m ready,” Jungkook grits out, looking almost pained as he grinds himself down on Seokjin’s fingers, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

“Shhh, patience. Hyung’s got you.”

Seokjin leans down, brushing tender kisses over Jungkook’s temple and cheek as he pulls his fingers out. He slicks himself up thoroughly with the copious amount of slick still leaking from Jungkook, then positions himself, resting his weight on his forearms as he lines up. He presses in with a slow, smooth thrust; his moan almost loud enough to rival Jungkook’s own.

“Hyung,” Jungkook moans, legs immediately wrapping around Seokjin’s hips the more he presses in, the more his body adjusts to the size. He's so big, so thick, and yet, it’s everything. “Hyung,”

“Good?” Seokjin asks, blinking a little slower from his own experience. But he still watches Jungkook’s expressions, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head, dazed and clouded in lust when they come back to him.

“More,” Jungkook whispers, arms curled around his wide shoulders to anchor him in the midst of a sea of pleasure. “Please,”

He gives him more, thrusts with a bit more pace, a bit rougher. Jungkook claws at his back. There’s no pause this time, no hesitation, he just gives, and Jungkook takes. It’s all he can do.

Jungkook grinds himself onto Seokjin’s cock with desperate abandon, and Seokjin meets those urgent movements with smooth rolls of his hips.

Jungkook’s body convulses under Seokjin, the sound of slick skin slapping against slick skin, and the smell of sex—it’s enough to tug the erotic whines out of Jungkook.

“Yes!” Jungkook pants, digging his nails into Seokjin’s shoulders more. “Fuck, yes, hyung.”

Seokin lowers his head for a moment, focusing on the pleasure, the tightness. The slick heat around his cock. “Fuck… Fuck,”

The sensation is unbearable and exquisite all at once. Tight, slick heat clenching and pulsing despite the prep. Jungkook moans, hips jerking toward Seokjin like a moth to flame, the desperate fire coiling tighter inside him.

And when Seokjin fucks him harder, faster, Jungkook can’t keep his moans quiet.

He looks utterly wrecked, lips parted as if trying to chase air. The sight claws at something deep in Seokjin's chest. Jungkook is so flushed, so helpless, so desperately undone. It’s breathtaking.

Every twitch of Jungkook’s hips, every grind against Seokjin's body, is instinctual. There’s no control left. Seokjin feels him clenching in waves, tight and hot and slick—can feel the pulse of Jungkook's heartbeat through every inch of him, the way his body tries to suck him deeper even when Seokjin is pressed all the way to the hilt.

“You’re doing so good, baby. Taking me so well,” Seokjin groans, pressing his face to the crook of Jungkook’s neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the salty skin. Jungkook shudders at the words, a raw, wrecked sound leaving his throat as his fingers dig into Seokjin's shoulders.

The heat of Jungkook’s skin is suffocating, and Seokjin mentally scolds himself for not getting Jungkook to drink more between each bout. With the amount of fluids of all kinds that are leaking from Jungkook’s body, he’s going to have one hell of a dehydration headache when this is over.

“Feel so good around me, Jungkook-ah,” Seokjin rasps, feeling his own orgasm rapidly approaching at the onslaught of tight, wet heat and Jungkook’s keening, desperate moans. He knows he won't last as long as he wants to. How many times has he watched Jungkook cum today without any relief for himself?

He adjusts his angle, determined to get Jungkook off again before he loses his tenuous grip on his own climax. Jungkook arches, gasping, the sound shooting straight down Seokjin's spine.

"There?"

“Yes! Fuck, fuck yes! Right—hngh—right there!” Jungkook wails, the sharp sting of nails digging too deep blooming across Seokjin’s back as Jungkook claws at him and writhes. He’s clenching, moving against him without thought. Seokjin keeps his grip steady, one hand on Jungkook’s hip, the other pressed into the sleeping bag for balance as he fucks into Jungkook harder.

The slap of damp skin against skin must be audible from the house, Seokjin is sure of it. He’s losing his mind, fighting a losing battle as his own gasping moans join the cacophony. And Jungkook is loud. So loud. The noises he makes are raw, high-pitched, breaking around the edges. He’s practically sobbing as Seokjin slams into his prostate with each thrust.

“‘M g-gonna cum,” Jungkook chokes out, eyes screwed shut.

“Cum for hyung, Jungkook-ah,” Seokjin pants, ready to reach between them to stroke Jungkook’s cock. He doesn’t need to, though; Jungkook’s body arches suddenly, jerking from each harsh grind. His voice cuts and spills silently, mouth open in a soundless moan.

It’s all Seokjin can do to keep fucking him through it. Jungkook is clenched so tight around him that it’s hard to move, even with the copious lubrication his body is producing. After long seconds, Jungkook forces out a harsh exhale and sucks in a gasping lung full of air and goes limp. He pants heavily, looking up from beneath him with hooded eyes.

“Cum in me, hyung. Need it…fill me up…” His voice is raw, scraping out of his throat in a way that sounds painful. Even through the haze of near orgasm, Seokjin wants to pull away and get him something to drink, to soothe that discomfort like he’s trying to soothe the need in Jungkook’s body.

Then he’s cumming, the meaning of those words filtering through and sending him over the edge with a low, hitching moan. His hips jerk once, twice, and he pushes deep, stilling as he releases as deep inside Jungkook as he can get.

The tent around them suddenly feels deafeningly silent despite their heavy breathing, Jungkook no longer begging for more. Seokjin fights the need to collapse on top of Jungkook and instead rolls to the side, slipping out of Jungkook’s heat as he does. Jungkook’s breath catches as he’s left empty, and his body jerks, a last weak and sluggish dribble of cum spilling from his cock onto his already filthy belly.

“Holy shit,” Jungkook breathes, body still trembling but now from exhaustion. He can’t keep his eyes open anymore, and within seconds, he's passed out quietly.

Seokjin sits up in panic, trying to think through the post-orgasm haze to help him. But Jungkook looks serene, a relaxed smile on his face as he breathes deep and even. The shudders wracking his body dissipate, and a soft snore spills from him in sleep. He looks better, his body cooling and the fevered flush slowly receding.

Seokjin sighs in relief and grabs his phone to check the time, instead finding a flood of alarmed text messages from the other members. Shit, what’s he going to even say? What about the staff? He opens the group chat and the first message he sees, the last one sent, is from Namjoon a mere ten minutes ago.

Namjoon: We’ve managed to get the staff to take the rest of the day off. We don’t think any of them heard anything before they left.
Namjoon: Seijin-nim knows what's going on.
Namjoon: I hope you guys have a good fucking explanation for all this and havent just lost your damn minds.

Seokjin grimaces, tapping out a reply.

Namjoon: I’m coming down.

Not even three minutes pass before he hears Namjoon approaching, the soft swish, swish of his slides over the grass audible through the tent. Seokjin gets up, hastily pulling on a pair of sweatpants, and unzips the tent enough to stick his head out.

“Namjoon-ah. I’m sorry. I should have got someone,” is the first thing Seokjin says, seeing Namjoon’s tight jaw and dark eyes, clearly furious. “He came back from his walk looking like he had heatstroke, then suddenly he was… it was kind of scary.”

Namjoon takes a deep breath, holding a large bottle of water out for Seokjin to take, hands falling to his sides in fists when they were empty. Shit, he’s really pissed. Seokjin can imagine why. The two of them going at it loudly in the middle of the day—while filming is going on no less—without so much as a shred of humility.

“I think he encountered something out there? He was burning up and I brought him in here to lay down and then he was so hard and almost crying and I joked that I’d help him out and he… he came just from that I… But it didn’t stop… every time he… it just kept going. It only seemed to stop after we… well.”

“Hyung. You’re fucking stupid. You really should have at least sent a message. We were scrambling as soon as we heard anything. You’re so lucky none of the staff heard!” Namjoon says, though the fury has drained out of him and he’s rubbing a hand over his face with a sigh. “It sounds like… maybe there’s some of that plant around here. You know the one from the news a few years ago? That kept basically sending people into heat or something?”

“Shit, that’s still around? Weren’t they trying to get rid of it all?”

“Obviously they failed,” Namjoon says, shaking his head. “I’ll let Sejin-nim know. We’ll get a doctor to check him out tomorrow, make sure he’s ok. Let me know if there’s anything else he needs, I’ll bring it down.”

“That’d be great. He's going to be horrified later,” Seokjin says, both relieved and still worried. He was less about other people's reactions now, and more about Jungkook’s once he woke up. “We’ll probably move to the lake house. The tent is… a bit of a mess.”

“Look after him,” Namjoon says, turning to leave. “I’ll explain to the others, but only them and Sejin will know. We’ll handle cleaning up the tent, too.”

Seokjin nods and doesn’t stop to watch Namjoon return to the house, instead slipping back into the tent and closing it again. He places the water next to the sleeping bag, within easy reach for when Jungkook wakes up.

He looks almost innocent, laying there with pouty lips and round cheeks. If it weren’t for the copious amount of fluids drying on his bare body. The sleeping bag is a lost cause. Seokjin grabs some wet wipes out of his suitcase and kneels beside Jungkook, gently cleaning the worst of the mess from his skin. This situation is probably embarrassing enough already for Jungkook without waking up in a tacky puddle of cum and slick.

There’s a soft groan from Jungkook as Seokjin carefully wipes around his cock and between his legs, and his brows furrow, stirring from his sleep.

"Hyung?" Jungkook rasps, eyes cracked open. He squirms as he realises that Seokjin is cleaning him up, a flush rising on his cheeks, though he doesn’t try to get away from it. He's still exhausted. "Hyung, I’m sorry. I don't know what happened—”

"Shh, I'm just glad you weren't alone. Namjoon has handled other things. He said it’s probably that weird plant that was on the news a while ago.”

“Oh… that makes sense,” Jungkook says, eyes slipping shut for a moment before they snap open again in alarm. “Namjoon knows!?”

“Well, you weren’t exactly quiet,” Seokjin points out, tossing the last of the soiled wipes in a pile near the door to discard later. He can see the panic welling up in Jungkook’s eyes. “It’s fine. The only ones who heard were the guys, and Namjoon had to tell Sejin-nim, but together they got all the staff to take the rest of the day off. The six of them are the only ones that know.”

“Six too many,” Jungkook whines, hiding his face in his hands. “And you had to… do all that so many times for me… fuck”

“Hush. It's not like making you feel good was a bad thing. I uh... rather enjoyed it actually. Though, hopefully the whole unexpected marathon thing doesn't happen again. Hyung's old heart can't take it!"

Jungkook huffs a watery laugh, and Seokjin pulls his hands away from his face to look at him seriously.

“Really, though, the situation wasn’t ideal, but I don't regret helping you like that. You’re my Jungkook-ah. I’ll always help you. Don’t you dare tell anyone how soppy Hyung is, though, or I’ll never get you off again!”

Jungkook bursts into a full laugh this time, before his eyes go wide in a playfully innocent expression. “Wait… hyung… does that mean… You'll really get me off if I don't tell everyone how whipped you are for me?”

“Yah! Not if you’re so disrespectful about it I won’t,” Seokjin swats at his arm, lips twitching like he’s fighting a smile.

The way Jungkook’s expression softens makes the awkwardness worth it. “You really want to, though? With me? Like… being boyfriends?”

This time, Seokjin fully smiles. “Oh Jungkook-ah, I’d like nothing more.”