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“Alright, look at the camera and state your name, age, and something about yourself.”
Nakyum’s fists clench in his lap, throat bobbing with a nervous swallow. “Um—hi. My name is Jung Namin, I’m 23, and this is my first time starring in an adult video.”
“First time?” The man—Yoon Seungho, according to the casting director—asks from behind the camera. “And what made you want to star in adult films?”
The black couch squeaks beneath him as he fidgets. “I’ve…always been a fan of erotica,” Nakyum says, admitting the half-truth. The whole truth is he desperately needs the money. “I—I used to paint nude models in college; that was my specialty.”
“So, you’re an artist,” Seungho says, balancing the camera with one hand while propping his chin on the other. “Is there an area of the male body you enjoy painting the most?”
And Nakyum knows the answer he should give, the answer their audience will likely want to hear, but as he looks over at Seungho, he finds himself answering honestly. “The hands.”
This surprises him, brows raising. “The hands,” he echoes. A chuckle slips from his lips, low and amused. “Care to explain?”
“Well,” Nakyum starts, gaze drifting to the long fingers wrapped around the camcorder, “I like what they’re capable of; people do everything with their hands.”
Seungho hums, interested.
“We eat with our hands, we work with our hands…we caress our lovers with our hands,” Nakyum says, cheeks warming. Remembering his role, he tacks on “I—I think yours are beautiful.”
A pleased smile grows on Seungho’s face from behind the camera. “And what is it you like about them?”
Nakyum swallows, shy beneath that warm gaze. He studies Seungho’s hand around the camcorder to distract himself from his piercing gaze—the map of veins winding across the top, the tight skin around his knuckles, the angular lines, the smooth short nails at the end of each finger. “They’re big,” Nakyum says. “And—and you have long, elegant fingers.”
His grin widens with a salacious edge. “Is there a reason you like such large hands?”
A deep breath fills Nakyum’s lungs to calm himself. Play the part. “I like how small they make me feel,” Nakyum says, breaking eye contact to pick at a thread on his shirt. Admitting such personal details about himself makes his voice waver despite his attempts to keep it level. “They can…reach places I can’t.”
“And where would you like for them to reach?”
Though Nakyum’s gaze remains lowered, he can hear the smirk in Seungho’s voice, and somehow speaking about it is even more embarrassing than he expected.
“D-do I really have to say it?"
“No.” Seungho leans back in his chair. “I’ll have you show me later, instead.”
Unable to find his voice, Nakyum nods, cheeks burning.
“You seem quite shy,” Seungho says. “Does it make you nervous—being on camera?”
While he should feel more self-conscious of the camera, he finds himself shrinking beneath the weight of Seungho’s gaze. The entire time he talks, Seungho’s eyes never leave, trailing along his face, sweeping across his body only to come back up again to linger on his lips. It’s as if he’s devouring him with a single glance.
A half-truth is better than the whole truth—that Seungho is the one knotting his stomach with a mix of nerves and anticipation. “Just a bit.”
“I know you haven’t done this before, but you shouldn’t worry.” While his words are comforting, his voice rumbles low with simmering heat. “I’ll take good care of you.”
Warmth pools in Nakyum’s stomach at his words and tone, though it does little to soothe his nerves. A timid smile tugs on Nakyum’s lips. “That makes me feel a little better.”
Something flickers behind Seungho’s eyes at the small, appreciative gesture.
“I’m sure this awkward distance between us isn’t helping any,” Seungho says, tone joking and light. “Do you mind if I join you on the couch?”
“N-no,” Nakyum says with a quick shake of his head, and he curses silently at himself for stuttering. “I don’t mind at all. Please.”
“So polite.” Seungho chuckles as he pushes off from his chair, camera in hand. “It isn’t often I get to interview someone as sweet as you.”
The way he speaks to Nakyum feels like a caress across his skin, warm and gentle, but with the promise of something far more sinister. It sends Nakyum’s heart into disarray, pulse increasing wildly as he shifts to create more room on the couch.
It isn’t until Seungho is standing in front of him that he realizes their size difference—he’s huge. Broad shoulders with a lean torso, and so tall it’s imposing. His white shirt clings to his muscular frame, sweatpants hanging low on his narrow hips.
And when he looks down at Nakyum from below thick brows, a fire laps at the insides of Nakyum’s stomach. It’s exciting and terrifying, and he grows harder the longer Seungho stares.
Of all men to be paired with, he feels incredibly lucky.
“Why don’t you take off your sweater first?” Seungho asks, looking through the viewfinder as he focuses the camcorder.
“Oh. Yeah, sure, of course. I suppose I should’ve done that sooner,” Nakyum says before immediately feeling stupid for giving such a lame response. He’s getting paid for this, and yet he’s talking like a virgin—though maybe that’s a selling point rather than his downfall.
Following Seungho’s instruction, he pulls the sweater over his head, and resists a shiver once the cool air meets his skin.
A hand brushes down his chest, and Nakyum can’t control his body’s reaction, trembling beneath the gentle caress.
“Does that feel nice?” Seungho asks, voice a bit breathless. His hand trails from one side of his chest to the other until the pads of his fingers circle a nipple. With the slightest pressure, he rolls it between his fingers, and Nakyum’s breath hitches.
“It—it does.” Nakyum nods, flush warm on his cheeks.
Encouraged, Seungho pinches harder until Nakyum’s back arches with a tiny moan.
He chuckles, pleased. “I hadn’t expected your body to be so sensitive. Do you enjoy having your nipples played with?” Seungho continues to pinch and roll and squeeze until he’s red and aching.
Nakyum’s breath comes out in shallow pants. “Yes,” he gasps, arching into the touch.
The rough pad of a thumb strokes the aching bud. “Are you this sensitive everywhere?”
You’re getting paid for this.
He swallows down his nerves with a coy flutter of his lashes. “Would you like to see for yourself?”
And Seungho’s hand pauses on his chest before his lips spread into a wolfish grin. “Then take off your jeans for me. And stand up when you do it.”
Heart knocking against his ribcage, Nakyum rises before slowly undoing the button and unzipping his pants. With each movement, he’s aware of the camera and Seungho’s attention, and he tries not to look awkward as he shimmies them down his thighs.
“Underwear, too.”
An explosion of heat warms Nakyum’s face. “A-already?”
Seungho hums with a nod, arm draped casually across the back of the couch. “Turn away from me and take them off slowly for the camera when you do.”
Nervous and exposed, Nakyum turns away before hooking his thumbs into the waistband. He’s never been naked on camera before, nor in front of a stranger, but he finds beneath his nerves an undercurrent of excitement, and he slowly works them down his legs.
“Just like that,” Seungho whispers from behind him.
Despite the thundering pulse in his ears, the praise boosts his confidence as he bends at the waist to free them from his ankles. He refrains from covering himself when he turns back around, cheeks warm.
“You’re gorgeous,” Seungho says, eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin, and Nakyum’s flush deepens. He sounds so honest.
While he stands in front of the camera naked, Seungho is fully clothes, and the difference makes his cock twitch (a subtle movement caught by both the camera and the man filming him).
“Here.” Seungho’s legs spread wider where he sits on the couch, adjusting the camera strap on his hand. “Kneel.”
Nakyum swallows.
He knows what this leads to. He knows this is the start of his performance, and of course, it’s the one sexual act he isn’t very good at. For years, he’s been told by every partner he’s terrible at head, that he might as well not try, and fear tightens his throat as he looks at the space created between Seungho’s thighs.
What if this is what sends him home? Who wants an adult actor who can’t even properly give head?
What if Seungho laughs at him?
Despite the worries churning in his head, he complies with Seungho’s order, walking over to kneel between his thighs. He needs the money. There’s no point in worrying about it now.
And yet before he can think better of it, his nerves take over his mouth.
“I’m not very good at this,” Nakyum admits, and Seungho barks a laugh from above him.
“Yeah?” A brow quirks in amusement. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who admitted they were bad at blowjobs during one of these.”
Nakyum’s fists tighten in his lap. “If you’d like, we can skip over this part. I wouldn’t want you to—"
“Nah,” Seungho says with a shake of his head. “It’s part of the job to see how you work with male talent. Besides, I’d like to see for myself whether you’re good at giving head or not.”
Nakyum swallows, eyeing the large bulge straining against Seungho’s joggers. “Okay.”
He follows Seungho’s movements with his eyes as he runs a palm over himself, giving a light squeeze before freeing his cock from the tight fabric.
Nakyum’s eyes widen.
There’s no way—
“It makes me a little embarrassed when you stare at it like that, you know,” Seungho teases, slowly stroking himself from base to tip.
“I’m sorry.” Nakyum shakes his head furiously. “I’ve just…I’ve never seen one that…that…”
He chuckles without modesty, hand continuing its lazy movements along his cock. “You want to taste it?”
And Nakyum does, much to his own surprise. His gaze drifts to the bead of pre-cum dotting the head, to the prominent vein lining the underside, and he nods timidly, eyelids growing heavy.
Holding the camera in one hand, Seungho brushes a thumb across Nakyum’s lower lip with the other. “You can take it slow.” And he groans low in his throat when Nakyum’s tongue peeks out to swirl around it.
Ignoring the thunderous pulse in his ears, he disguises his nerves by coaxing Seungho’s thumb deeper into his mouth with a flick of his tongue, sucking it gently. When he looks up at Seungho, there’s an unreadable expression on his face, and doubts float through his head when Seungho slides his thumb out with a slick pop.
Maybe he doesn’t want to do this anymore. Maybe he realizes this won’t end well—
But Seungho wraps a hand around his cock to guide it forward, and he wonders if he’s going to embarrass himself, if Seungho will even enjoy it, if—
The tip of Seungho’s cock grazes his lips, and on instinct, Nakyum parts for it, licking it into the heat of his mouth. He doesn’t have time to worry, to get lost in his thoughts, because as the weight of Seungho’s cock slides on his tongue, he doesn’t have time to think of anything else.
Fingers curl around the base to give slow, fluid pumps, and Seungho twitches in his palm as he sucks on the tip. It encourages him, gliding his tongue along the slit with the hopes of coaxing out another response.
“Such a tiny little mouth,” Seungho murmurs above him, fingers carding through Nakyum’s hair. “You can barely take the tip. Maybe you aren’t very good at this after all.”
Hot shame flashes across Nakyum’s cheeks, but he tightens his grip to sink Seungho deeper, and it isn’t much, but it earns him a hiss through teeth, hand knotting in his hair.
“There you go,” Seungho says. “See? You know how to suck cock.”
Cheeks hollowing, Nakyum bobs his head, sliding his tongue in time with the twist of his wrist. There’s so much he can’t take, one trembling hand joining the other to cover the length of him, and an embarrassed flush creeps down to his neck.
He must look like an idiot.
Here he is getting paid for this, and he’s struggling to take Seungho deeper, gagging when he touches the back of his throat. Tears bud at the corner of his eyes, but he doesn’t pull away, working his hands along the length he can’t take. He knows he’s a mess, spit trickling down his chin, and for how long Seungho is, he’s just as impressive in width, Nakyum’s lips stretched impossibly wide around him. His jaw aches, his tongue’s sore, his breaths labored, but he pushes himself, swallowing around the pre-cum dribbling down his throat, because he wants to prove himself to Seungho, that he can do this, that he can make him feel good.
With one hand recording and the other caressing the back of his head, Seungho guides him, sinking himself deeper and quicker into Nakyum’s mouth. All he offers is the occasional shaky breath, nothing to signal he’s enjoying this except for the trembling fist tightening in his hair.
“Why don’t you look at me while you do it?” Seungho asks after a few moments, grip on Nakyum’s hair loosening. The back of a finger strokes Nakyum’s cheekbone in encouragement to lift his gaze.
And Nakyum listens, lifting his tearful gaze from Seungho’s groin to his eyes.
A curse slips through Seungho’s lips, brows drawing together as Nakyum peers up at him, mouth and hands still working his cock. “Fucking gorgeous.”
Nakyum blinks against the tears in his eyes as the saline tracks carve down his cheeks, and he sucks Seungho deeper, eager for more approval.
And he gets it in the form of a low groan, Seungho’s hips snapping to sink himself further, and Nakyum quickens his hands without breaking eye contact, licking a fat stripe along a vein, along the sensitive spot beneath the head, and—
“Fuck,” Seungho groans, and he’s coming, hot and thick onto Nakyum’s tongue, cock pulsing between his lips.
Nakyum’s eyes widen in surprise, but he continuous licking along the tip, collecting the last of the spend as it dribbles out. He hadn’t expected the sudden release—hell, he almost expected Seungho to go soft from the mediocre blowjob—and it strokes his ego, pleased to have finally brought a man to completion with his mouth, especially during the one time it counts.
He pulls off Seungho’s cock to swallow, but before he can, rough fingers grab his jaw.
“Open your mouth,” Seungho says, gaze dark and hooded. “Show me the cum on your tongue.”
With glassy eyes and swollen lips, Nakyum obeys, mouth opening to stick his tongue out for the camera, and Seungho’s spend slides down the wet muscle until it drips from the tip onto his chin. His eyes never leave Seungho’s, skin igniting beneath the intensity of his gaze.
“Perfect.” It’s reverent, the way he says it, and he spits into his mouth to add to the mess. The filthiness of it makes Nakyum so hard it’s painful. “Now swallow.”
And he does, swallowing it down until only the mild, salty taste lingers in his throat. His tongue darts out to collect a drop leaking from the corner of his mouth, and Seungho’s eyes follow the movement.
“Good boy,” Seungho purrs, and every praise sounds so sweet coming from his lips. “Come back up on the couch with me.”
When Nakyum rises, his legs wobble beneath him, tingling with pins and needles, but Seungho catches him, his free hand wrapping around his waist. The contact sends sparks across Nakyum’s skin, jumpstarting his heart.
“Easy,” Seungho whispers in his ear as he eases him onto the couch, a quiet chuckle shaking his shoulders. “What’s the rush?”
“I wasn’t—” Nakyum’s voice comes out hoarse, throat raw from overwork. “I wasn’t rushing. I just lost blood flow in my legs.”
Seungho hums. “It seems it all went here.” The back of a finger strokes along Nakyum’s length, and he jolts at the touch, warmth enveloping his skin. “Did sucking my dick turn you on that much?”
It had.
With the weight of Seungho’s cock on his tongue, throat constricting around him, all Nakyum could imagine was how it would feel to have Seungho inside him, to be stretched and filled and fucked and—
Nakyum nods, shy but honest.
A pleased sound rumbles from the back of Seungho’s throat. “This line of work suits you,” he says, fingertip smearing the pre-cum collecting at Nakyum’s tip. “Why don’t you turn around for me?”
And Nakyum’s pulse quickens at the insinuation.
The unique blend of excitement and nerves must show on his face, because Seungho chuckles in amusement. “Don’t worry,” Seungho says. “Like I said, we can take it slow. Just need to show the camera what you look like.”
Nakyum swallows, his arousal overshadowing his hesitancies. “How do you—ah—want me?”
The faintest twitch of a smile flickers across Seungho’s lips. “Let’s have you face the back of the couch. Here.” He rises, guiding Nakyum’s arms forward until they rest on the back cushions. “Just like that. Arch your back a little…Perfect.”
Flames lick across Nakyum’s skin, his knees denting the cushions as Seungho coaxes his legs wider with a firm hand, and when it slides down the back of his thigh, he shivers, anticipation building in his stomach like a tightening cord.
Positioned like this, Nakyum’s reminded of their difference in appearance—while Nakyum’s clothes lie crumpled on the floor, Seungho remains fully dressed, his softening cock tucked back into his pants. Every inch of naked skin on display for the camera, and yet he feels most exposed beneath Seungho's gaze.
Seungho takes a step back, his heat leaving with him as he pans the camera across Nakyum’s body, and Nakyum wonders what he’s thinking, self-consciousness sinking his forehead onto folded arms.
It doesn’t matter what Seungho thinks. He’s getting paid either way, but he finds himself listening for any reaction from the man behind him.
“Beautiful. Every part of you,” Seungho says, and the quality of his voice is different, rougher around the edges, and Nakyum’s face flashes with heat knowing he’s the reason.
Encouraged by the praise, Nakyum arches his back further, presenting himself for Seungho and the camera, and a broken sound escapes from Seungho’s throat. Suddenly the imposing heat of his body is behind him again, a calloused hand running along the feverish skin.
“How long has it been?” Seungho asks, the words full of breath.
“Since what?” Nakyum struggles to focus when Seungho skims a finger down his inner thigh.
“Since you were last fucked.”
He hums appreciatively when Nakyum shivers.
“A year,” Nakyum says, distracted by Seungho’s wandering hand. “M-more or less.”
“No boyfriend?”
He shakes his head, hair brushing his arms against the couch. It’s laughable, really, that this is how he’s ending his dry spell, but what should be a chuckle comes out as a gasp when Seungho fills his palm with the flesh of his ass.
Seungho spreads him, showing his hole to the camera, and Nakyum releases a shuddered breath, eyes squeezing shut.
This shouldn’t turn him on so much.
There’s a vulnerability in the exposure, knowing his most private areas are on full display, and he doesn’t expect it to heighten his arousal, but it does, pre-cum dribbling from the tip of his cock. Maybe Seungho was right—he really is cut out for this line of work. There’s no other explanation as to why he’d experience excitement rather than shame.
Seungho curses, low and throaty, the threads of self-control unraveling in his voice. His grip tightens, near bruising.
Nakyum wants to know what expression he’s wearing.
“A year, huh?” Seungho repeats quietly to himself, fingers denting the skin. “Do you have to play with yourself, then?”
“Y-yes,” Nakyum manages to say, warmth filling his cheeks.
A low hum sounds from Seungho’s throat. “How do you do it?”
Embarrassment seizes his throat, catching the words before they can tumble out. Nakyum swallows in an attempt to release them.
“Come on,” Seungho murmurs to coax him, “you can tell me.”
“I—uh—well, you know…”
“How about you walk me through it?” Seungho kneads him with a rough hand as he speaks. “Tell me how you like to touch yourself.” A thumb lightly grazes Nakyum’s rim, and he twitches at the sudden contact. “Do you enjoy playing with your ass? Or your pretty little cock?”
His palms sweat as he clutches onto the couch. It’s as if his skin is on fire, heat dancing across every place he wishes for Seungho to touch.
“Tell me,” Seungho urges with a low voice.
“My—my ass,” Nakyum admits, face hot with shame.
Seungho lets out a huff of air from his nose that sounds something like a laugh. “What a little slut,” Seungho teases, and Nakyum hates that the degradation makes his cock twitch. “So, you feel the most pleasure from this little hole here, hm?” He massages his thumb against him, dragging down his perineum and back up again, and the sensation releases a high-pitched keen from Nakyum's throat.
“Yes,” Nakyum says, and he can hardly hear his own voice over the roaring pulse in his ears.
“Then I’ll make you feel good, baby.” Seungho spits beside his thumb and drags it into the tight circle of Nakyum’s body. “When you touch yourself, what do you imagine?” The tip of Seungho’s thumb dips inside, and Nakyum shivers at the stretch.
He considers lying, but he finds himself speaking the truth before he can think better of it. “I—I think about a lover slowly working me open.” His voice is surprisingly level for how aroused and nervous he is.
Seungho hums behind him, and it comes from some place deep in his chest. “You’re so fucking cute, you know that?” He coaxes his thumb in and out so agonizingly slow it’s maddening; Nakyum needs him deeper, quicker, to stretch him wider. “Such innocent thoughts.”
“Should I—” Nakyum’s voice cuts off with a shuddered gasp when Seungho spits on his hole again. “Should I think of other things?”
When Seungho drags his thumb out, Nakyum suppresses the whine that builds in his throat. He aches for Seungho to be inside him, any part of him, and when a long finger slides in, a depraved moan slips past his lips.
“You could imagine a cock filling you up.” Despite the casual drawl of his speech, his voice wavers with self-restraint, breaths ragged as he slowly sinks deeper. “Being stretched so wide your mind goes blank.”
And with Seungho’s deft hand working him open, Nakyum imagines just that. He imagines the burn of Seungho’s cock pressing past his rim, how full he’d feel once Seungho slides inside.
“Would you like that?” Seungho murmurs. “For me to bury my cock in you?”
“Yes,” Nakyum says without thinking twice.
“Yeah?” Seungho crooks his fingers, and Nakyum sees a flash of white behind his eyes. “Is that what you’re imagining right now?” He slides a second finger inside, and Nakyum takes a sharp inhale. “I can’t stop thinking about how you’d look wrapped around my cock. Not just your little hole, but what expressions you’d make, how your moans would sound. I bet you look fucking beautiful when you take it.”
He's moving quicker now, rapid snaps of his wrist that end on Nakyum’s prostate each time, and Nakyum isn’t sure he’s ever been brought to the brink so quickly. His cock lays untouched between his thighs, and yet he can feel the tightening pressure in his core with each plunge of Seungho’s hand. He hardly realizes he’s moaning with each thrust of his fingers, high-pitched mewls that echo through the room. It should be embarrassing how easily his pleasure comes, how desperate his moans sound, but he can’t find it in him to care, hips rocking backward to coax Seungho deeper.
His pleasure must be as noticeable to Seungho as it is to him because his movements become more intentional, dragging and pressing in all the right places until Nakyum’s drooling onto the couch.
“Are you about to come like this, baby? Just from getting your ass played with?” Despite the tease, Seungho’s voice is hoarse and broken behind him, and Nakyum realizes Seungho is just as turned on as he is. “Perfect little body, so easy to please. Haven’t even fucked you yet.”
And Nakyum spills onto the couch with a loud cry, legs trembling from the intensity of it.
It’s a blinding orgasm. One that radiates from his core until he feels it in his toes, but he doesn’t get a moment to recover before Seungho’s hand wraps around his ankle and drags him forward to flip him over. He hardly notices the camera discarded on the cushion beside him, hardly remembers the reason he’s here in the first place, because all he can focus on is the starving look in Seungho’s eyes as he stares down at him.
“Did that feel good?” Through Nakyum’s haze he’s surprised to see Seungho’s chest heaving as hard as his own.
“Yeah,” Nakyum manages through lazy lips. “Really good.”
“Want more?” Seungho asks, and he barely gets the question out before Nakyum’s nodding his head and urging him forward.
Seungho curses beneath his breath as he fumbles with the drawstring of his joggers, and for once he looks clumsy, his composure gone as he drags his leaking cock out. With quick movements, he grabs a bottle of lube from beside the couch and glides a generous amount along the length of him, and as Nakyum looks up at him through hooded eyes, he notices a sheen of pink coloring the back of Seungho’s neck and the tips of his ears. He’s eager and desperate, and it warms a place deep in Nakyum’s chest to know he made him this way.
It’s only once Seungho rubs the tip against Nakyum’s softened rim that nerves settle in. His gaze lowers from Seungho’s face to stare between his legs, and apprehension chokes him.
There’s no way he’ll be able to take him. Despite his fantasies and desires, he can’t imagine fitting someone like Seungho inside of him, and he grabs helplessly onto Seungho’s wrist.
“What is it?” Seungho asks quietly, thumb caressing Nakyum’s calf.
“I don’t—” Nakyum takes a deep, shuttered breath. “I don’t think it’ll fit.”
And when Seungho chuckles, it’s a low, dark sound that vibrates across Nakyum’s skin. He lifts Nakyum’s leg to hitch it over his shoulder.
“It’ll fit.”
And it does, with an agonizing burn that sends goosebumps along the entirety of Nakyum’s body. It takes the breath from his lungs and brings tears to his eyes, but before he can even vocalize his pain, it so quickly devolves into pleasure when Seungho rubs against that swollen spot inside. Nakyum’s legs tremble around Seungho with a heaving gasp.
“See?” Seungho says from above him once he’s fully sheathed inside. Sweat slides down his jaw and lands on Nakyum’s stomach. He slowly rocks his hips back, hand tightening around the leg on his shoulder. “You can take it.”
Nakyum hugs around every inch of him, every divot, breath catching in his throat as the fat tip stretches his rim. Though Seungho moves slow, it’s with such intention; deep, measured thrusts that leave him drooling, back arching off the couch. It’s as if there’s a fire being stoked beneath his skin, razing everything until all that’s left is the full feeling of Seungho inside him, the delicious drag of his cock which each movement of his hips.
“Knew you’d look beautiful like this,” Seungho breathes, and Nakyum realizes Seungho’s gaze has never once left his face. He grinds himself deeper and stays there a moment. “Like you were made to take cock.”
The way Seungho looks at him leaves Nakyum’s mouth dry.
It’s a hunger unlike anything he’s ever seen, a desire so carnal it bleeds into his every word. Seungho makes him feel so desired, so…wanted, and when Nakyum’s hand rises to cover his face, unable to bear another moment beneath the heat of his gaze, Seungho captures his wrist to pin him against the couch.
“No.” There’s a commanding ring to his tone. “Let me see you,” he says. “I need to see you.”
“You’re too big,” Nakyum says, though his hips rotate to take Seungho deeper.
Seungho’s brows knit together, lip bitten between teeth. “But I can reach that place you like so well.”
When he fucks into him again, Nakyum sees white—a blinding white that spreads beneath his skin and lights up behind his eyes, and all he can do is cry out and cling helplessly as his fingers struggle for traction against the leather.
He’s never felt like this before.
So many one-night stands and relationships, all perfectly good partners who could never hold a candle to the way Seungho moves inside him. He drives into Nakyum at the perfect angles, lingering in all the right places, picking up speed when he should, and slowing down enough to edge Nakyum to the point of sobbing. He plays with Nakyum’s body as if it’s all he’s ever known, as if he’s intimately acquainted with every little detail of it.
With rough hands, Seungho grabs at Nakyum’s waist and leans forward until Nakyum is folded in half, and the new angle curls Nakyum’s toes and rips out obscene sounds from his throat. Reality slips away until all he can focus on is the searing heat of Seungho’s skin, the scent of him—musky and warm and mouthwatering—the sound of his grunts low in Nakyum’s ear, the full sensation as he carves a space for his cock in Nakyum’s body as if it were made for him.
Nakyum’s vaguely aware he’s babbling, incoherent curses and pleas and cries, but he can’t stop the sounds, brain short-circuiting with each expert thrust that sends Seungho into his most sensitive spot.
“Does that feel good?” Seungho whispers into his ear. “Do you like when I fuck you like this?”
“Y-yes, yes, god, yes.” The way Seungho fucks him melts his mind.
He forgets he’s on camera, forgets why he’s here, forgets everything but Seungho.
Seungho, who looks down at him with such dark want, who refuses to break eye contact as he pounds into him. Seungho, who clings onto him as if he can’t get deep enough, as if he wants to devour Nakyum whole.
Seungho, who drags Nakyum up from the couch to bring him into a bruising kiss.
His lips move hungrily against Nakyum’s, biting, licking, sucking, tasting every inch of Nakyum’s mouth, and groaning when Nakyum tightens around him in response. The slide of his tongue is nearly as arousing as the glide of his hands, fingers coasting and grabbing along any stretch of available skin. It’s one of the messiest, most passionate kisses Nakyum has ever received. Whenever Nakyum breaks away, Seungho chases after him as if he can’t bear to separate, fist tight in his hair as he fucks him through it.
And when Nakyum paints their stomach in his pleasure, Seungho swallows the desperate sound.
“Feel so fuckin’ good,” Seungho murmurs against his lips. “So tight, so perfect, fuck, you were made for me. Just for me.”
And all Nakyum can do is deliriously nod because he’s never felt so full, so overwhelmed with pleasure as he goes limp in Seungho’s arms.
Maybe Seungho’s right, maybe he was made for this, made to fit around Seungho as he fucks into him erratic and deep. It’s the only way to explain this desperate, primal need for Seungho to stay inside him, to continue fucking him until he forgets his own name.
Seungho bites into Nakyum’s shoulder as he continues to rut into him, and the pain only heightens the pleasure. He marks Nakyum’s skin with his lips and teeth as if to claim him as his own.
“Never want to leave you,” Seungho mumbles into his neck. He sounds so different like this—voice so uncomposed and raw as if the words aren’t coming from his mouth but somewhere deep in his chest. “Want to stay inside you, fuck you whenever I want. Perfect, god, you’re so fuckin’ perfect.”
When Seungho cums, it’s without warning. One moment his pace is punishing and the next his hips stutter with a groan, fingers tightening around Nakyum’s waist until faint bruises form beneath them. He buries himself to the hilt, and he stays there and everything goes still.
Neither speak and neither move, each struggling to catch their breath as they cling to one another. It’s swelteringly hot in the circle of Seungho’s arms, their sweat slick skin sliding, heartbeats mirroring the other’s rapid rhythm.
Seungho is the first to break the silence. “…Are you okay?” He nuzzles his sweaty forehead against Nakyum’s.
Nakyum nods, voice lost in the aftermath. It takes several moments for him to gain it back. “I’m okay.”
Seungho sighs from his nose, and Nakyum wonders if it’s in relief. “Fuck,” he whispers, eyes closing. “That was…”
It’s only in the quiet afterglow that Nakyum regains his wits.
He was supposed to be performing. The realization tightens his throat, the warmth in his chest dissipating. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Had he fucked up? Did he do something wrong? Said something he shouldn’t? He’d gotten so lost in the heat of the moment, he entirely forgot he had a role play.
“…Did I do okay?” Nakyum asks, insecurity coiling around each word.
“What?” Seungho leans back to study his face as if he doesn’t understand the question. “Of course you did. That was fucking incredible.” His forehead falls against Nakyum’s shoulder and stays there a moment. “You were fucking incredible.”
Relief rolls over Nakyum, followed by a wave of accomplishment, but when he opens his mouth to express it, Seungho continues without lifting his head.
“I’ve never had sex like that before,” he says, voice muffled by his shoulder.
Nakyum cranes his neck to sneak a peek at Seungho’s expression without avail. “What do you mean?”
“I think you might’ve ruined me.” He finally raises his head, and where Nakyum expects to find a teasing expression, he finds serious eyes boring into him instead.
The intensity of his gaze sends a shock down Nakyum’s spine.
“It’s never felt like that before,” he continues. “Like this.” For emphasis, he holds Nakyum tighter in his arms. “This is all I’m going to want now. I don’t think I’ve ever come so fast in life.” He shifts his hips, and Nakyum realizes he hasn’t pulled out, still nestled deep inside his body. Warm cum slides down the back of Nakyum’s thighs. “I’m already fucking hard again, and we haven’t even done anything.”
The pure need in Seungho’s voice and eyes makes Nakyum’s cock twitch between their stomachs.
Because Nakyum knows he’s ruined too. It feels so natural like this, so perfect, so intense, that Nakyum can’t imagine anything ever coming close. He doesn’t know if anyone will ever look at him the way Seungho does, make him feel the way he does. Nakyum finds himself craving more—more of Seungho’s touch, his lips, his taste.
He wants to burn in the heat of Seungho’s skin until nothing is left of him.
“The camera’s still rolling,” Nakyum says timidly. He nods towards the discarded camera strewn to the side, and when he circles his hips, Seungho groans low in his throat, hands tightening around his waist. “If you want to keep filming.”
“Will you only film with me?” Seungho asks, and his fingers trail down the slick expanse of Nakyum’s spine. “No one else?” He leans forward to drag his lips along Nakyum’s throat and nibbles on his jaw. “I don’t want anyone else to have you like this. Only me.”
Nakyum’s fingers play with the damp strands at the nape of Seungho’s neck, and it earns a subtle shiver in response.
“Is that allowed?” Nakyum asks, though he knows after this he won’t want to film with anyone else, anyway.
“No,” Seungho says. “But I don’t care.” And when he grinds his hips to prove his point, Nakyum gasps. “I want you all to myself.”
“Okay,” Nakyum says, heart stuttering at the promise. “Then, I’m all yours.” He leans forward to press a slow kiss to smiling lips. “So, let’s keep filming.”