#ksjd

He wastes no time guiding your hand over the subtle stirrings beneath his briefs, your wedding bands knocking against each other on the way. “Sorry,” he sighs, has already begun to kiss a trail of wet kisses down the side of your throat. “Just really need this.”

He’s been stressed this past week, beyond tired as he wrapped up some projects at work. Between that, the kids, and his nosy parents, it had been difficult for him to find any time to unwind. At times like this, you’re all too ready to take care of him. You squeeze his bulge, reveling in the trembling exhale that escapes Seokjin’s lips. He’s hard by now, his long member curving up towards the waistband of his underwear. You bypass the elastic easily enough, trail your fingertips over the soft skin of his tummy, through the coarse hair at his base, and finally, his cock.

He’s warm to the touch, flinches cutely when you grip him too tight. “Your ring,” he mumbles, sucking a harsh kiss against your jawline. It’ll bruise tomorrow, make your skin tender to the touch. For tonight you’ll let him carry on like this, kissing and touching you like he’s starving for the taste of you. “Take it off.”

You snort, turning just the slightest to land a peck against his forehead. “Never,” you retort, tightening your hold around his member until he’s hissing, reaching for your wrist as if to pull you away. He doesn’t, which only emboldens you to carry on, carefully dragging your hand up his length until your thumb is swiping over the tip of his cock, coating your thumb in the glossy substance that oozes from his slit.

“Oh, fuck,” Seokjin shivers, lips against your throat. Flicking your wrist, you let your inner palm graze his engorged tip until it’s slippery with his pre-cum, running it back down his length with newfound ease. “Shit,” he curses, hips raising off the mattress just a bit as he slowly falls victim to the steady pumping of your hand against his cock.

He always comes the hardest when he’s pent up, like he’s physically and mentally incapable of holding it more than is necessary. Your hand runs up and down his length, squeezes at the base and rolls over the tip. Seokjin’s breathing becomes labored against your skin, the wet patches from his kisses fanned by his rushed breathing. Your name tumbles from those flushed lips, punctures every downward tug the closer he gets.