I woke up to Hoseok whimpering in his sleep in the bed beside mine.
I suddenly realized what I had missed. The hyung line... well, minus Namjoon.
Creeping out of my warm covers yawning I climb into bed beside him, spooning him from behind. I can feel his shuddering form starting to relax, his breathing evening out.
It takes a few minutes, but he wakes up to realize that I am there, and with that realization I can feel his tears dropping onto my hand under his face. The arm above him that I have to hug his shoulders I tighten, cupping my hand against his now damp cheek.
I let him cry.
****
After he moves a bit to hint that he wants to adjust I lift my arm some and he turns over to look at me. His eyes glow with gratitude, the light from him slowly brightening. As he inches his face closer to mine our breaths mingle. His breath out becomes part of my breath in.
When our lips touch my eyes close. Neither of us move, just breathing and pressing lips. I feel his hand mirroring my hand, each of us gently cupping the others cheek. As my hand slowly moves to his hair his goes to mine.
Even with my eyes closed I can see/sense his glow increasing. Like a campfire it flickers and pulses as it grows. Slowly he pulls away, sighing as his lips leave mine.
'I need to check on the others.' I whisper to him. He nods, his eyes grateful. He watches me as I silently leave the room.
****
I open the next door, but it's maknae line's room. The room after is Namjoon and Yoongi's, but Yoongi looks to be fine at the moment, so I continue on. The last room is Seokjin's, and looking in I can see his bed is still made, unused even now. I pause and hear nothing, not even water flowing, as I would expect if he was taking a shower.
A soft hum from a muted corner and I realize the light from the streets below aren't the only lights to fill that space. Seokjin sits quietly, a notebook and pen in hand.
Padding over to him I sit at his feet, putting my head softly on one of his knees. Not even glancing up he reaches out to gently play with my hair, humming approval at my touch. It's peaceful, quiet. The scratches of the pen on the paper tapping out a rhythm to our breaths.
As my breathing slows he fidgets a bit, adjusting his sitting position time and again. Finally I look up to realize that his need to adjust comes from his growing length. Desire in his eyes rips my awareness awake, a hitching in my throat as I blush at the obvious reaction he has to my touch... but he doesn't push, doesn't request, is patient.
As I become aware of my own interest in pleasing him my hand wanders while my gaze stays fixed to him. Stroking his calves and ankles I let my fingers wander slowly. His hum of approval urges me on, and I reach for the back of his knee, slowly stroking until I meet the chair seat, then turning my direction until it flows slowly up the inside of his thigh.
He takes a deep steadying breath but continues to write in his notebook, allowing me to explore his body at my own speed. I carefully map out both of his legs, the flex of his thighs, the twitch of the muscles as I pass over particularly sensitive areas, the softness of his pajama bottoms.
Instead of going right to the source of his ache I venture further towards his hips. Stroking the edges, the sides, mapping where the bone juts out to catch the tops of his pants. I let a finger stroke his skin just above the pants, earning me another swift intake of breath, before he finally puts his writing away. Looking at me he leaves his hands at his sides, letting me take control, letting me decide just how far I will go.
I nod at his heavy gaze and put a finger just under the top hem of the pants. He lifts his hips to allow me to do with them what I will.
As I move to kneel between his spread knees his eyes darken, focusing on me. I slowly, carefully, remove the pants. It seems as if he goes commando when sleeping, because as the fabric travels down him I am hit with his male scent and the musky-pine smell of his favorite soap.
He is hard, his cock tapping against his waist as he resettles himself onto the seat. I level a considering gaze at what he offers me and realize he could actually get harder, bigger.
After fully removing his pants I let my hands wander up the insides of his thighs again, reveling in each twitch, each muffled groan. When my hand brushes against his sac, well trimmed and almost the same color as his own skin under the hair left, his eyes close and he hums softly. I pause, turning my hand to cup him, palming his sac as he twists a bit in his seat, biting his lip.
My other hand softly strokes up his length, feeling it fully harden beneath my fingers. Our breaths deepen, synchronizing in desire. His glow has been intensifying, and now it's starting to pulse, almost with the throbs and twitches of his cock as I touch and stroke it.
My instincts suddenly pull me into an upright kneeling position, putting my breasts around his length. His eyes widen at the positioning, and I follow with the deliberate action of removing my pj top, exposing my skin and chest to his view. His eyes dart to mine, shock clearly written. I place my hands back on his length, stroking him as I press his cock to my breastbone, my forearms making my chest bobble a bit while I move my hands up and down.
His jaw drops, eyes darkening. His breath stutters and changes as he tries to keep control, but slowly failing. As he seems to get himself under control my mischievous side come out and I grin wickedly at him. I remove my hands entirely, lowering myself a bit, and push my chest together to fully envelop him.
He almost loses it right there and then, but seemingly struggles back from the edge of cumming. As he settles back down I add in more. Lowering myself a bit more I let his length thrust above the line of my collar bones and I lick and nip at his head on the upthrust. It is with his hands gripping the armrests of the chair tightly, his hips thrusting and twitching uncontrollably that he releases his cum onto my face, chin, neck, and breasts. I do get to taste the first bit, but his orgasm rips through him, making him shake, and control is lost. Which, to me, is absolutely perfect.
Once his twitching stops, the orgasm is finished, and his cum is fully released, I get up and quietly pad to his bathroom, using the warm sink water and a washcloth to clean up. As I am finishing up he comes in behind me, his pajama pants back on, and loosely hugs me from behind, resting his chin on my head. Meeting my gaze in the mirror he blushes before winking at me saucily. I giggle quietly at him, grinning, and turn around in his hold to offer up my lips.
His kiss is like a warm spring day. Soothing, gentle, his tongue slowly stroking mine. With a deep sigh we hug, my head nestled into his chest, his hand holding my head against him like a precious gift.
I pull him back to his bed, tuck him and myself into it, and we fall asleep in each other's arms.