Jungkook starts feeling weird in the car on the way to the hotel. He's tired—just today there have been photo shoots, interviews, and a fansign; it's been a long day and a long week and a long month of promo, and he's honestly not even sure where they are anymore, just that the signs are all in English and he can only half-understand what strangers say to him. But tired is familiar, like being wrapped up in a fuzzy blanket that muffles everything around him. Jungkook knows tired, but this is something different. He's hot and sweaty, hyper-aware. Hoseok's cologne is suddenly too strong in the close air of the car, and his skin feels prickly where Jimin's leg is pressed against his.
Yoongi notices, because of course Yoongi notices. "Are you okay?" he asks, under the noise of Jimin and Taehyung bickering about something. The feeling of Yoongi's breath against his ear makes Jungkook shiver.
"I don't feel good," he says, more whiny than he means to.
"Aw, Jungkookie." Yoongi puts an arm around his shoulders and squeezes him in a sideways hug. "We're almost at the hotel. Do you want to come to my room? Jin-hyung will make you tea."
Jungkook nods and cuddles closer. It doesn't actually make him feel much better, since everywhere Yoongi is touching him seems intensely oversensitive. Yoongi smells good, though, like clean sweat and melted makeup and the stuff the stylists put in his hair, and Jungkook feels safe with his head tucked into the curve of his neck. Weird, but safe.
At the hotel, Hoseok drags Jimin and Taehyung and two of the manager-hyungs off in search of food, and Yoongi steers Jungkook into the elevator and up to their floor with an arm around his waist. Seokjin is ahead of them, fiddling with a room key—he's going to drop it if he's not careful—and Yoongi catches Namjoon's wrist before he can go into his own room and says, "Come with us. Jungkook's not feeling well."
"What?" Seokjin demands, finally dropping the key and whirling around. "Jungkook-ah, you should have said."
"I just started feeling weird in the car," Jungkook protests, but his voice comes out rough and kind of raspy-sounding. Namjoon frowns anxiously at him, and goes around to his other side to put an arm around him, overlapping with Yoongi's in the small of his back. This close, Namjoon seems taller, bigger and broader than he does at a distance. Jungkook catches his breath; he's not sure what he's feeling, but it's a lot, and he's grateful when Seokjin picks up the key and lets them all into Yoongi's hotel room.
As soon as they're inside, Seokjin comes over to join the three of them, pulling Jungkook into a hug and taking Yoongi and Namjoon along with him. Surrounded by his hyungs on all sides, Jungkook thinks he should feel better, and in a way he does—the three of them are safe, familiar, home. No matter what's wrong with him, he trusts them to take care of him. But he's also hot all over, sweating like he's under stage lights, and his skin feels too small for his body. "I think I need to lie down," he says into Seokjin's shoulder. Namjoon's arm tightens around his waist, holding him steady.
"Okay," Seokjin says, stepping back but keeping hold of Jungkook's hands. There's a worried crease between his eyebrows, but he tugs Jungkook over to the king-sized bed and sits down with his back to the padded headboard, letting go of Jungkook's hands to pat his lap in invitation. Jungkook crawls onto the bed and lies down with his head in Seokjin's lap. Seokjin hums and strokes his hair back from his forehead. "You're a little warm," he says doubtfully, "but I don't think you have a fever. Joon-ah, what do you think?"
Namjoon feels Jungkook's forehead. "I don't know, he's kind of flushed. Jungkookie, what's wrong? Do you feel like you have a fever? Do you need to throw up?" He makes a face, but perches on the edge of the bed by Jungkook's hip. "Please don't throw up on me again."
That makes Jungkook laugh—they'd had a bad stomach flu a month ago, all of them getting sick in a row like dominos falling over. It hadn't been funny at the time, but he's still pretty proud of how comprehensively he'd ruined Namjoon's favorite shoes. "It's not that," he says. "I'm not even sure I'm sick. I just feel weird. A little dizzy? Not like I'm going to collapse or anything, just—weird."
"Hmm," Yoongi says. He's standing beside the bed with his phone in his hand. "Hobi says they have ramen and are on their way back. You might feel better if you eat something. It's been a long day."
"Maybe," Jungkook says uncertainly. There's a hot, curling feeling in his belly that could be hunger, but he's not so sure. He'd eaten an entire bag of cookies at the fansign, anyway, a gift from one of the fans there. She'd smiled at him and said something in English that he hadn't understood, except for 'cookies' and 'for you' and a word that had sounded like 'magic' but had to have been something else. He'd been tired and grumpy and hadn't wanted to share, so he'd hidden the cookies from Jimin and Taehyung and eaten them all himself.
"I'll make some tea," Yoongi says, putting his phone back in his pocket, but Jungkook shakes his head and reaches out to grab his hand.
"No, it's okay." He might not know what's wrong with him, but he knows he doesn't want Yoongi out of reach. "I don't want tea. Just stay? Please?"
Yoongi looks down at him for a moment, unreadable, and then sighs and sits on the bed, turning his hand over in Jungkook's so he can fold their fingers together. "Okay, Kookie," he says softly. On Jungkook's other side, Namjoon puts a hand on his thigh, steady and comforting.
"We've got you," Seokjin murmurs, stroking his hair. Jungkook loves when people play with his hair, and the gentle pressure of Seokjin's fingers makes him sigh and turn his head, nestling deeper into his lap. He feels more relaxed, with all three of them touching him, and the prickly, uncomfortable feeling he's had since the car shifts slowly into something richer, a wave of protracted heat climbing from the tips of his toes all the way up to the fingers in his hair, setting his whole body on fire.
The curling feeling in his belly is not hunger. He gasps when Namjoon's big hand starts rubbing his thigh. It's an absent, casual touch—meant to be soothing, Jungkook thinks desperately, with the part of his brain that can still think—but it's so good, too good, and Yoongi is holding his hand, and Seokjin is petting his hair, and the wave of heat is tipping right over and he's—oh. Oh, fuck.
"Oh, fuck," Yoongi says, startled. "Um, that's—did you just—wow."
"Nooo," Jungkook moans, rolling onto his side so he can pull his knees up and curl into a ball. He hides his burning face in Seokjin's thigh. He's still hard. He came in his pants, with Seokjin and Yoongi and Namjoon all watching him, and he's still so fucking turned on, like every nerve in his body is on fire with longing. It's not actually all that different from the way he usually feels, except that it's cranked up to eleven and impossible to hide, or hide from, or keep secret until he can find five minutes alone to jerk off in private.
Yoongi makes a soft noise and hugs him, wrapping himself bodily around Jungkook—despite the fact that Jungkook is curled into a tiny ball of embarrassment and arousal. "It's okay, Kook-ah," he murmurs. "Hey, shh."
Jungkook hunches his shoulders. "I didn't mean to."
Seokjin drops a kiss on the side of his head. "Listen to Yoongi," he murmurs. "It's fine."
"It is fine," Namjoon agrees, but he sounds more cautious than Yoongi or Seokjin. "But, um, is—did something happen?" He squeezes Jungkook's knee, more automatically than anything else, and then freezes when Jungkook gives an involuntary, full-body shudder. "Did you take something? It's fine if you did, we're not mad." Jungkook shakes his head against Seokjin's thigh, and hears the frown in Namjoon voice when he adds, "Did somebody give you something?" He sounds angry, but not at Jungkook. "Because this doesn't seem normal, and you said you felt weird, and we can call somebody, a doctor, or—"
Jungkook shakes his head again, emphatically. "No." He turns his face so it's not muffled in Seokjin's thigh. "No, please don't. I don't want anyone else to see me like this."
Yoongi wraps his arms even more tightly around him. Yoongi might be small, but he's good at being the big spoon, and he's pressed so close that Jungkook can feel the wiry strength of his arms and chest, and the heat of his dick against his ass. Yoongi is—well, he's not entirely soft, anyway, and just the thought of that makes Jungkook feel like he could come again at any moment.
"Do you want us to see you like this?" Seokjin asks gently. Jungkook loves him so much. It feels impossible, sometimes, how much he loves each of his hyungs, and Seokjin—Jin, who practically raised him, who drove him to school and packed his lunch, and always, always checks to make sure he's okay, even when he's in the middle of creating chaos and telling dumb dad jokes and driving Jungkook crazy—sometimes Jin is the one he feels guiltiest for wanting.
"I—" Jungkook starts, and then the hotel room door bangs open and Hoseok and Jimin and Taehyung tumble inside.
"Hey," Hoseok says, loud and aggrieved, as the door bangs shut behind him. "I can't believe you assholes started the cuddle party without us." He drops a plastic bag on the bench near the door and throws himself onto the bed, half on top of Yoongi and Jungkook.
Yoongi squawks and shoves him off onto Namjoon's lap. "You're fucking heavy," he complains. "Ow."
"It's all muscle, baby," Hoseok says cheerfully, and then, with a sudden and complete shift in register, "What's wrong with Jungkook?"
"Something's wrong with Jungkook?" Taehyung demands, coming over to sit on the bed with Jimin right behind him. Taehyung puts his hand on Jungkook's ankle, and Jungkook looks up to see Jimin with his arms crossed, glaring daggers at the hyungs.
"Tell us what's going on," Jimin says sharply.
"It's Jungkook's to tell or not tell," Namjoon says, quiet but firm. He's in leader mode, now, and it's hot. Jungkook thought Namjoon was hot before he was even old enough to know what hot was, and that hasn't changed as he's gotten older; it's just gotten deeper, put down roots. "We're not gonna make that decision for him."
"Hyung—" Jimin starts, ready to argue, but Jungkook takes a deep breath and drags himself upright, leaning back against Seokjin's chest. Seokjin puts an arm around him like an anchor, and Yoongi sits up too, taking Jungkook's hand again. Jungkook pulls his knees up, hiding his hard dick and the wet spot on his sweats, but Jimin's eyes widen; he doesn't miss much.
"I—" Jungkook starts again. "I kind of—shit." He doesn't know how to say it, with all of them looking at him.
"He came in his pants," Yoongi says bluntly, taking the bullet for him. Jungkook can feel himself flushing and looks away. Jimin's eyes are very wide, and Taehyung's lips are parted in surprise, but there's an arrested look on his face that Jungkook has seen before, when he and Jimin and Tae have gotten off in the same room or a shared shower. It's never been more than that, casual and easy—close quarters, no privacy, horny teenagers—but. But.
"There's something wrong with me," Jungkook says roughly. His skin is tightening again, another orgasm just out of reach. "I need—I need somebody to—"
"Shh," Taehyung says, and leans in over Jungkook's drawn up knees to cup his face in both hands and kiss him. Jungkook moans in relief, and Taehyung smiles against his lips and coaxes his mouth open, kissing him hot and slick and sweet while the orgasm shudders through him. He can't stop shaking after he comes, and Taehyung sits back on his heels but keeps his hands on Jungkook's face, long fingers tracing gently over his parted lips, along his jaw, down the line of his throat.
"Please don't stop touching me," Jungkook gasps. "I can't—fuck." He tries to cover his face, but Yoongi is still holding one of his hands, and Taehyung catches his other hand and kisses the inside of his wrist.
"I'm still not totally sure what's going on," Hoseok says carefully, "but the one time I took molly it didn't act anything like this. I just got kind of high and started seeing glowing flowers whenever the girl I was dancing with kissed me."
Seokjin laughs, his shoulders shaking against Jungkook's back, but Namjoon is frowning. "Jungkook said he didn't take anything," Namjoon says. "But I don't know if it's a good idea to leave it like this. What if somebody put something in his drink?"
Hoseok is shaking his head, though. "If it's some kind of drug, it might be better to let it run its course," he says. "But I don't know. I'm not, like, an expert, but this doesn't seem like any drug I've ever seen. You're not seeing glowing flowers, are you, Jungkookie?"
"No," Jungkook says. He feels even more turned on than he did before, like each orgasm is making him hotter and more desperate. "There aren't any fucking flowers, hyung. I just need—more. Fuck."
"Who taught you to swear like that, Kookie, baby?" Taehyung demands, grinning. He lets go of Jungkook and reaches back to tug Jimin up the bed.
"You did, hyung," Jungkook says sweetly, if not entirely accurately—honestly, it was Yoongi—and then he almost swallows his tongue when Jimin and Taehyung grab his legs and pull his knees down, making room for Jimin to climb into his lap and straddle him. "Fuck," Jungkook whispers, as Jimin smirks and grinds his ass down against Jungkook's hard dick; Jungkook's sweatpants and underwear are wet and sticky, and they drag against the damp, sensitive skin of his cock with each roll of Jimin's hips.
"This is going to be a pretty boring lap dance if you don't touch me," Jimin says pointedly.
Jungkook swallows hard. "It's also going to be—short."
Jimin laughs, and then Yoongi says, low and smoky in Jungkook's ear, "Put your hands under his shirt." It's barely loud enough to hear, but Jimin's eyes widen and he arches his back in a slow, sinuous roll—showing off for Yoongi, Jungkook thinks, even as he does as he's told and shoves his hands under Jimin's shirt. Jimin's skin is smooth under his fingertips, silk over muscle, and he has just enough time to graze one nipple before Jimin tosses his head back and grinds down hard and Jungkook is coming again.
"Fuck me," Jimin says breathlessly, "how can you come like that and still be so hard?" He squirms in Jungkook's lap, and Jungkook's breath catches. Jimin's dick is at least half-hard, clearly outlined in his pants, and Jungkook wants to touch him. He wants to taste him, but he's not sure what's allowed.
"This can't be the right translation," Taehyung says, before Jungkook can do something crazy like just ask to suck Jimin's dick. Taehyung has his phone out, and is frowning as he taps the screen. "But I looked it up on Naver, and there might be something called sex pollen? Sex pollen? Like, plants?"
"Oh my god," Namjoon says. "Please tell me you cleared your search history."
"Whatever, hyung," Taehyung says dismissively. "I don't get it, though. Jungkook, have you been having sex with plants?"
"Nobody has been having sex with plants," Namjoon says, holding out his hand for Taehyung's phone. "Let me see that." He looks down at the phone, and then says, "The pollen is a metaphor, Tae. I've heard of this, actually, only—" He turns pink, dusky color washing up from his collarbones to his cheeks. "I thought it was just, like, a hentai thing. Not, um, not real life."
Hoseok chokes on a giggle. "Namjoonie, I can't believe I forgot about your hentai thing, oh my god."
"Shut up," Namjoon says, dimpling, and Jungkook abruptly reaches the end of his rope. Jimin is still in his lap, and Seokjin is pressed against his back, and Yoongi is so close that he can feel his breath on his cheek, and Hoseok and Namjoon are smiling at each other, and he can't take it anymore.
"I don't care," he says loudly. "I don't care what it is. I don't care why. I just really need somebody to fuck me. Right now." He swallows hard. "Please?"
There's a shocked silence. He's already come three times, but he wonders if maybe it hasn't felt real to them, with all his clothes still on, without him asking for what he really wants.
"Okay," says Taehyung.
Jungkook exhales, relieved, and nods. Then Seokjin says, "Should we leave? The rest of us, I mean. If Tae and Jimin want to stay? Maybe the rest of us should go."
Seokjin's arms are still tight around him, and between that and the hand Yoongi rests on his knee, Jungkook finds the strength to say, "That's not what I want."
He can feel Seokjin's exhale against the back of his neck. "Okay," he says quietly, "then I need you to say what you do want, Jungkook-ah."
"Or what you don't want," Namjoon puts in, serious again. "If there's anything else you don't want."
"There's not." Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut. He's spent so long not saying anything to any of them, because he's never known where to start. He's never been able to choose. He wants all of them; he loves all of them. How could he tell Namjoon he wanted him, or Yoongi, or Hoseok, when he wanted Jin and Jimin and Taehyung, too? "There isn't anything I don't want, except for any of you to leave. I just want—I want all of you. Please stay."
There's another silence, softer this time, and then there's a hand on his cheek and someone is turning his head to kiss him. It's Yoongi; Jungkook can tell from the calluses on his fingers and the smell of his hair, the way he kisses quick and hard and then draws back to trace Jungkook's parted lips with his sharp tongue, like Jungkook hasn't made an intensive study of the way each of them kisses other people.
"Fuck," Hoseok says, with a low whistle, "are we allowed to talk about how hot this is now?"
"Yeah, I think so," Yoongi says, pulling away. Jungkook blinks his eyes open to see him grinning, wide and crinkly-eyed. "Come on, kiddo, let's get your clothes off."
Taehyung cheers and Jimin punches the air, so Jungkook is giggling when the two of them move in to take off his shirt. Between them and him and Seokjin, there are a few too many hands involved to make it a very smooth operation, and he gets tangled in his sleeves before Taehyung successfully pulls the shirt off and tosses it over his shoulder.
"Hah," Taehyung says proudly, knee-walking down the bed to take off Jungkook's socks.
"Hey, Jungkookie," Hoseok says, running a hand up Jungkook's bare chest and tweaking a nipple. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," Jungkook groans, and Hoseok laughs as he leans in. His kiss is light and teasing, and Jungkook chases after his mouth when he draws back, until Hoseok laughs again and lets Jungkook kiss him harder. He strokes his hands down Jungkook's sides as they kiss, and Jungkook sighs into his mouth.
"Don't look now," Hoseok murmurs in his ear, between kisses, "but I think Yoongi-hyung has plans for you." Jungkook isn't sure what he means until Hoseok turns Jungkook away from his mouth, towards where Yoongi has gotten up off the bed and is standing over them.
"That's good," Yoongi says approvingly, the tone of his voice as arousing as Hoseok's hands on him. "Hobi's got you. Come sit here." He pats the edge of the bed.
Hoseok's touches are firm and strong, so it's easy for Jungkook to relax into him, to let him move him wherever Yoongi wants him. Once he's sitting with his legs over the side of the bed and his bare back pressed to Hoseok's chest, Yoongi goes smoothly to his knees.
"Oh shit," Jimin whispers.
"Jimin," Yoongi says sharply, "give me a hand with his pants."
"Yes, hyung," Jimin agrees immediately, leaning over to shove Jungkook's sweats down.
Jungkook lifts his hips into Jimin's hands, letting Hoseok hold his weight, and between them they get his pants and underwear down his thighs. His underwear is honestly pretty gross from the three times he came in his pants, but Jimin doesn't seem to care. He can't seem to stop touching Jungkook's thighs, even after his sweats are down around his knees, and he licks his lips so obviously and heatedly that Hoseok laughs into Jungkook's neck.
"Jesus, Jimin," Hoseok says. "Save something for later."
Jimin looks up at him, hands on Jungkook's thighs, and smirks. "You haven't seen anything yet, hyung," he says sweetly, sharp as a knife, and Jungkook can feel the slight tremor that goes through Hoseok, the way his muscles tighten and release. He's turned on, and Jungkook tilts his head back to give him a quick grin before looking back at Jimin.
"Jiminie-hyung is so hot, isn't he?" Jungkook says proudly.
"I've always thought so," Hoseok agrees. They both watch the smirk on Jimin's face soften with pleasure. "So are you, Kookie. Hot shit, all of you."
"I hope you're including yourself, Hoseokie," Namjoon says. He and Seokjin have been watching them quietly, but now Namjoon comes around to sit crosslegged on the bed next to Hoseok and Jungkook, and puts his arm around Hoseok's shoulders. Jungkook shivers again at his sudden closeness, and Namjoon runs a hand down his arm in a comforting gesture that does absolutely nothing to calm him down.
On the floor, Yoongi has finished pulling off Jungkook's pants and underwear, and is sitting back on his heels. He clears his throat and raises his eyebrows, drawing everyone's attention, and Jimin sits back quickly, leaving Yoongi to gently part Jungkook's thighs. Jungkook can't quite get a full breath into his lungs, despite all of his vocal training; he's so turned on he feels like he's unravelling.
"Tae," Yoongi says. "My toiletries bag, in the bathroom—"
"On it, hyung." Taehyung swings himself up from the end of the bed and makes for the bathroom.
"Hyung," Jungkook whispers. "Please."
Yoongi's hands come to rest at the tops of his thighs, fingers in the creases where his legs meet his hips. He smiles up at Jungkook, and then bends his head to lick Jungkook's cock. Jungkook's hips jerk forward involuntarily, and Yoongi pulls away to say sharply, "Hold him," before going back down. For a moment, Jungkook is embarrassed enough that he thinks he might not come so humiliatingly quickly—and then Hoseok's arm settles like an iron bar across his hips, and Jimin and Namjoon each take one of his hands, and Yoongi does something with his tongue that is frankly probably illegal and slides his mouth down over Jungkook's dick, slow and wicked and so fucking good. Jungkook moans, tosses his head back against Hoseok's shoulder, and comes in Yoongi's mouth.
"Fuck," Hoseok breathes, his chin hooked over Jungkook's shoulder. From that vantage point, he has a perfect view of Yoongi swallowing and then pulling away to lick his lips, looking smug. Jungkook can feel Hoseok shift behind him, clearly trying to find a comfortable way to sit with his erection pressing against the small of Jungkook's back. Beside him, Jimin is still holding Jungkook's hand, but his other hand is pressing down on the bulge in his own jeans.
Jungkook's dick gives a shuddery twitch when Yoongi wraps his hand around it; he's still hard. Hard, and hot, and far too desperate for someone who just had Min Yoongi go down on him.
"It's a waste of my skills when you come so easy," Yoongi complains, but he's smirking, and Jungkook can't possibly take offense when Yoongi is stroking his cock, circling the wet head with his thumb.
"I could watch you do that all day, hyung," Hoseok says earnestly. Namjoon makes a choked sound that might be agreement, and buries his face in Jungkook's shoulder. His face is hot and flushed, and his warm breath on Jungkook's skin makes him thrust into Yoongi's hand. But Jungkook needs more. He feels empty, and the prickly, over-sensitive feeling is back, pins and needles chasing up his arms and legs.
"I don't doubt Yoongi's skills," Seokjin says, which makes Yoongi make a cranky, irritated face, "but Jungkook said he wanted someone to fuck him." His voice sounds a little unsteady, but when Hoseok loosens his grip so Jungkook can turn and look at him—sitting up against the head of the bed behind Jimin with his chin resting on his knees—Seokjin looks determined and only a little uncertain. He's also so handsome that it makes Jungkook ache, and his mouth is bitten red where he's been chewing on his lower lip.
"Yes," Jungkook sighs. "Please?"
"Here!" Taehyung drops a bottle of lube and a roll of condoms on the bedside table. Jungkook blinks, because the lube is not travel-sized, and why did Yoongi even—and then he's distracted by the fact that Taehyung has taken off his clothes and is just standing there, unselfconsciously naked, with his hard dick curved up against his stomach.
"Somebody's ready," Jimin says, laughing up at him. He lets go of Jungkook and scoots forward on the bed, reaching for Taehyung. Jungkook gets caught staring at Jimin's small hand on Taehyung's big dick. He's seen them like this before: hard and touching each other, even touching him, but this seems more intense, somehow, more real.
"Jungkook," Yoongi says suddenly, "have you done this before?"
Jungkook freezes. Namjoon's head comes up, and Seokjin frowns, and Yoongi moves his hand from Jungkook's dick to his knee. "By myself," Jungkook admits, after a moment. "But not, um. Not with anybody else."
"Oh, fuck me," Seokjin groans, and bangs his forehead against his knees.
"I'm not a kid anymore, hyung." Frustrated tears are prickling at the corners of his eyes, and he wipes them away angrily. "It's not like there have been a lot of opportunities for—whatever."
"It was always just messing around, when you were with me and Tae," Jimin puts in, sounding chagrined. "Kid stuff."
"Right," Jungkook agrees, and sighs. "I haven't—I didn't want to do anything that wasn't real, I guess? I want too much. I know I do, and it's not fair of me—" He takes a deep breath and gets it all out in a rush. "I wanted everything, with all of you, and I couldn't have that, so it just seemed better to take care of things myself."
"You don't have to take care of things yourself," Namjoon says, with conviction. "Not now, and not ever again."
Jungkook stares at him. Namjoon's face is beet-red, but he looks as serious as he ever does when they're talking about music or philosophy or the group, about anything important. "Hyung," Jungkook breathes.
"Not ever," Namjoon repeats, and Jungkook darts forward and kisses him. For a second, Namjoon's mouth against his is slack with surprise, and then he's kissing Jungkook back, deep and intense. His big hands come up to cradle Jungkook's head, lacing his fingers into his sweaty hair. Jungkook is vaguely aware of the others moving around them, but Namjoon is kissing him, and nothing else seems quite as important. The weird desperate urgency fades in the face of the way Namjoon's mouth opens to his, the firm, hot stroke of his tongue. For all that he's thought about it hundreds of times, the reality of making out with Namjoon is something else, something consuming and total in a way that Jungkook feels almost unequal to—and then Namjoon moves his mouth away to kiss his neck and his ear and the hinge of his jaw, and whisper, "Kookie, baby, I never knew."
"I didn't want you to know," Jungkook admits, ducking his head. "I didn't want to make things weird. And it didn't seem fair, when I couldn't choose."
"You don't have to choose," Yoongi says quietly. He's gotten up from the floor and is sitting on the edge of the bed. "None of us are going anywhere."
"I'm kind of offended you thought we would." Jimin leans around Hoseok to plant a soft kiss at the corner of Jungkook's mouth, Hoseok steadying him with a hand on his waist. "You could've told us."
"You could've told me," Taehyung says. He sounds hurt, but like he's trying to make a joke out of it. "I've touched your dick and everything."
"Obviously not everything," Seokjin says, and then laughs at himself until Yoongi smacks his arm.
"Be serious, hyung," Namjoon says.
But Seokjin has already stopped laughing, and his face is solemn when he holds his hands out to Jungkook. Jungkook takes them, a little apprehensively. He trusts Seokjin more than almost anyone else in the world—Seokjin and the other five boys on this bed—but he's also terribly afraid of disappointing him. He knows Seokjin loves him, but he doesn't know if it's the same way he loves him, and it's one thing for Seokjin to want to take care of him tonight, and another thing entirely for him to fuck him when he knows how Jungkook feels.
Then Seokjin raises Jungkook's hands to his mouth and kisses his knuckles, and all of Jungkook's breath leaves him in a rush. It's maybe the most romantic thing Jungkook has ever seen in real life, and he wants to cover his face, hide his flushed cheeks.
"For the record," Seokjin says, low and kind of dirty, "it was the image of you fucking yourself that was too much for me, not anything else. I know you're not a kid anymore. I figured that out ages ago." He turns Jungkook's hands over to kiss his palms, and then slides his mouth over two of his fingers. He looks up at him through his long eyelashes, with his head bent and his lush pink lips around Jungkook's fingers, and Jungkook's stalled urgency turns over like an engine, coming back to life.
"You could show us," Seokjin murmurs, letting Jungkook's fingers slip free. "What you've done yourself."
Jungkook shivers, thinking about it, but—"Another time?" He feels warm all over when Seokjin nods his agreement. "I need—" He turns his head, searching, and then Taehyung is there, his hands steady on Jungkook's shoulders. "Hyung, please, will you—"
"Yes," Taehyung says. "Do you want to suck Jiminie off while I do?"
"Yes," Jungkook groans. God, yes. Someone is laughing softly above him—Jimin, he's pretty sure—and then Taehyung and Namjoon are helping him get up on his knees in the middle of the big bed. Jimin is curled into Hoseok's side, and sometime in the last few minutes, while Jungkook was distracted by Namjoon and Seokjin, Jimin and Hoseok seem to have gotten most of each other's clothes off. They're still wearing underwear, but it's not hiding very much. Jimin has one leg hooked over Hoseok's lap, and Hoseok's fingers are tracing absently along the top of his thigh, a hair's breadth from his dick.
"You should kiss," Jungkook says, suddenly.
Jimin blushes and looks away, but Hoseok sounds hopeful when he says, "Yeah? Jimin?"
Jimin gives a fake, put-upon sigh, and then the corners of his mouth turn up. "Oh, alright," he agrees, turning back to Hoseok. Hoseok is already leaning in, his free hand coming up to cup Jimin's cheek. The kiss starts soft, tentative, but turns hot and hungry almost immediately, like they've both been wanting it for a long time. Jimin throws both arms around Hoseok's neck, and Hoseok's fingers curve possessively around Jimin's throat. They're still kissing when Taehyung's big hands stroke down Jungkook's back and push him forward onto his hands and knees.
"That was a good idea." Taehyung leans down to whisper in Jungkook's ear. "None of the hyungs can stop staring." He slaps Jungkook's ass lightly, and then reaches over Jungkook to get the lube. His fingers are back a moment later, wet and slick as he rubs circles around Jungkook's hole. "Are you ready?"
Jungkook nods mutely, and then gasps when Taehyung slides the first finger into him. It's already better than when he does it himself—better than his own fingers and better than the toys he guiltily hides in an old shoebox in his wardrobe. Taehyung's fingers are long and smooth and confident; he doesn't waste any time, either, and Jungkook opens easily under his hands, so turned on that everything feels incredible. Taehyung curses under his breath and adds a second finger, and then a third.
"Fuck, Tae, please," Jungkook groans, loud enough that Jimin and Hoseok finally stop kissing.
"Here, Jimin," Hoseok murmurs, spreading his legs so Jimin can sit between them. Jimin is flushed from his chest to the roots of his hair, but he lifts his hips in a smooth motion, arching his back so Hoseok can get his underwear off, and then his dick is right there in front of Jungkook's face, small and hard and perfect, leaking a little at the head.
"He's ready, Tae." Yoongi's voice comes from somewhere above him, and there's the crinkling sound of a condom wrapper.
"Wait," Jungkook says suddenly, because that doesn't—that doesn't feel right. "Wait," he repeats, pushing himself up and back on his heels. "Can we—do we have to use condoms?"
"I thought we taught you about safe sex," Yoongi says, eyebrows raised. Jungkook winces, remembering Yoongi and Seokjin sitting him down the year he turned fifteen. It had been excruciating, not least because Jungkook was still shy and awkward and embarrassed, and couldn't stop having wet dreams about his hyungs.
But he's older now, and Tae's fingers on his ass are wet with lube, and his hyungs have promised to fuck him. What can it hurt to ask for one more thing? "It is safe," he says doggedly. "Hyung, I know your blood type and what you ate for lunch and the last time you saw the doctor. Which was last week, by the way. If it wasn't safe, none of us would be here."
"The kid has a point," Seokjin says mildly. "It's not like any of us are fucking around with anyone who isn't in this room. Are we, Yoongi?"
"Aren't we?" Namjoon asks, sounding a little surprised. "I mean, I'm not, but, um."
"We're not," Jimin says. "Hobi-hyung?"
"Not for a while," Hoseok says cheerfully. "Too busy."
"Fine," Yoongi says. "Fine, hyung, shut up."
"I'm just saying," Seokjin says, laughter in his voice. "You haven't brought anyone home in months. I was honestly getting kind of worried."
Yoongi snorts. "Worried, as in you were actually worried about my sex drive? Or worried, as in it's been a while since you got to pretend to be asleep while watching me fuck someone, you fucking voyeur?"
"Definitely the second one," Seokjin says, and beckons. "C'mere."
"Ugh." Yoongi rolls his eyes, but he's already knee-walking across the bed, fitting himself into the narrow space between Jimin and Jungkook, and leaning down to kiss Seokjin.
Jungkook exchanges a wide-eyed look with Jimin, but it's Taehyung who says, "Whoa, hyungs," in an awed voice. There's no doubt—either from the way Seokjin is laughing a little sheepishly into the kiss, or from the unsurprised looks on Namjoon's and Hoseok's faces—that Yoongi and Seokjin have kissed each other before. Jungkook can't believe he didn't know, and for a second he's almost jealous, hurt; then the hotness of his hyungs kissing each other fully penetrates, and his neglected dick gives an involuntary twitch, growing impossibly harder. He reaches back to grab Taehyung's wrist, and Taehyung takes the hint and pushes his slick fingers back into him, keeping him open and ready.
Yoongi pulls away from Seokjin's mouth and climbs over him, landing a little awkwardly on his other side. He's flushed and half-smiling, and looks a little like a disgruntled cat. "It's, whatever," he flaps a hand. "Letting off steam. But lately—" He shakes his head, frustrated. "Hooking up, fooling around, it hasn't felt like enough, or even like something I wanted to do, when the alternative was spending time with all of you." Seokjin is nodding, and Namjoon has put his hand down on the bed beside Yoongi's, so their pinky fingers are touching. Over Jimin's shoulder, Jungkook can see Hoseok's wide smile, bright as the sun.
Yoongi meets Jungkook's eyes and says softly, "Maybe we were always headed here. I don't know, but I know you're the real genius, Jungkook-ah."
"Hyung," Jungkook breathes, overcome, and watches Yoongi's smile spread to fill his entire face.
"You'd better fuck him, Tae," Yoongi says. "He's waited long enough."
"Finally." Taehyung smacks Jungkook's ass, and Jungkook falls forward onto his hands. He nearly face-plants into Jimin's lap, but Jimin catches his head with both hands, sliding his fingers into Jungkook's hair and holding him still, with his mouth hovering a bare inch from Jimin's dick.
He whines when Taehyung pulls his fingers out, but a second later he can can feel the slick head of Taehyung's cock, wider than his fingers. Taehyung grips Jungkook's hips and pushes in, slowly and implacably, and Jungkook is shaking by the time Taehyung is all the way inside him.
"Fuck, Jungkook," Tae groans. "You feel amazing."
"So do you," Jungkook whispers; it's true: Tae feels huge inside him, filling him. "Please," he moans, "Taetae, please."
"I've got you," Taehyung says. His hands tighten on Jungkook's hips, and he pulls out and pushes back in on a slow, hard thrust that makes Jungkook cry out and turn his face desperately into Jimin's hands.
"That's good," Jimin murmurs. "Tae, fuck him, come on."
"Fuck," Taehyung groans again, like he's run out of any other reliable words, but he does as Jimin says and starts fucking Jungkook with quick, sharp thrusts. He's a little unsteady, not quite in rhythm, and something about that makes Jungkook's skin feel like it's on fire. It's so much, and it's still not enough.
"Jiminie-hyung," Jungkook says, trying to chase Jimin's fingers with his mouth. "Please, can I—"
"You look so desperate," Jimin says dreamily. "You're so pretty, begging to suck me off, when all you ever had to do was ask. You could have had this any time you wanted it, Kookie. All this time, Tae and I have been thinking you weren't that into us, and we were honestly kind of broken up about it, but—" he gives a little shrug, and his fingers drag roughly through Jungkook's hair. "I think it was worse for you. You could have told us, you know. We love you."
Taehyung's dick hits his prostate, more intense than he's ever managed himself. For a second, Jungkook can't breathe at all—Taehyung's dick feels like it's getting bigger inside him, slick and wet with lube and pre-come, and Jimin's voice is so soft and gentle, a sharp contrast with the way his hands are pulling Jungkook's hair. "Please," he rasps again, when he can manage to drag a breath into his lungs. "I'm sorry. I love you."
"There's nothing to be sorry for," Jimin says gently, and finally uses his hold on Jungkook's hair to pull his head down until his dick is pressing against Jungkook's parted lips. "Go on," he murmurs, and pushes up into Jungkook's open mouth. Jungkook moans around Jimin's dick; he tastes so good, sweet and salty and sexy—just like Jimin should taste, he thinks hazily. He hasn't done this much before—or, like, at all—but Jimin doesn't take his hands away; instead, he helps Jungkook work out how to take as much of him as he can into his mouth, his hands stroking carefully through Jungkook's hair and down his throat, easing him down until he can swallow around Jimin's dick, until he finally feels full enough.
Taehyung's thrusts are getting more and more erratic, and he's swearing steadily under his breath. "I'm sorry," he groans. "Kookie, I love you, but I'm not going to last."
Jungkook sucks harder on Jimin's dick, like somehow Taehyung will be able to read what he wants from that, like there's a feedback loop between them—and maybe there is, because Jimin says, "It's okay, Taetae. Go ahead."
Taehyung gives a low moan, the sound sending another wave of shivering heat through Jungkook, and his fingers clench on Jungkook's hips. He thrusts two more times, and then Jungkook can feel him coming in a hot rush inside him. It's enough to tip him over the edge, and behind him, Taehyung makes a choked, breathless noise; Jimin's hands tighten into fists in Jungkook's hair, his dick pulsing in Jungkook's mouth.
"Jesus Christ," Hoseok says roughly. "This is the hottest fucking thing I have ever seen in my entire life."
"Yeah," Yoongi agrees, his voice almost half an octave lower than usual. "Taehyungie, you'd better—"
"Give me a second," Taehyung says hoarsely. "Fucking hell, have you ever, like, bare—"
"No." That's Yoongi again. "I never thought I would, either, but trust Jungkook to give us all new fucking experiences, and get them perfect on the first try."
Jungkook isn't really paying attention; Jimin's dick is still in his mouth. He sucks harder, slides his mouth down and back up and down again. It's sloppy, and he's pretty sure his technique is nothing to brag about, but it feels so good, the way Jimin's hands clench and release in his hair, the way Jimin's powerful thighs tense under him as he gets close.
"Jimin's close," Hoseok says, unnecessarily. Jungkook can't see him, but there's another hand in his hair all of a sudden, lighter than Jimin's. He can hear kissing, and he wishes he could watch—he wishes he had his camera—but he can only do so many things at once. Then Hoseok says, "Jungkook," in warning, and a moment later Jimin is coming in his mouth and all Jungkook can do, all he wants to do, is swallow desperately around him, all his senses filling up with Jimin.
He swallows what he can and then licks him clean, until Jimin pulls him off with shaky hands and drags him up into a kiss. It's a messy kiss, with a lot of tongue, and Jimin giggles into his mouth and strokes his hands down his back. With his arms around Jungkook, and Jungkook half on top of him, Jimin reaches out to catch Taehyung's hands and pull him up, too. Taehyung laughs and plasters himself to Jungkook's back, sandwiching him between them. Taehyung kisses his neck and Jimin kisses his mouth, and then Taehyung leans over Jungkook's shoulder and catches Jimin's mouth with his own.
For a long minute, squished between Jimin and Taehyung, Jungkook feels satisfied, satiated, like whatever the thing is in his system—drug, or pollen, or sex illness, or magic—has finally worked itself out; then Taehyung pulls all the way out of him, sitting back on his heels, and the wave of need rushes through Jungkook again, inexorable and devastating.
"Oh, no," Jungkook sobs, feeling it like a shock. He can't—he needs—
"Shit," Yoongi says. "Tae, out of the way."
There's a scrambling sound, the bed creaking as people move. Jungkook tries to track it, as Taehyung moves away and Yoongi climbs over Namjoon and around behind him, but all he can really focus on is the way Jimin is still holding him, his bare arms around his shoulders making his skin prickle, like he's been shocked.
Then there are fingers pressing inside him again—Yoongi's fingers, skilled and careful and so good that Jungkook cries out in relief.
"Fucking hell," Yoongi says, not quite under his breath. "Tae, I can feel your come in him. Jesus fucking Christ."
"I'm very proud, hyung," Taehyung says weakly.
Jungkook lifts his head, looking for him, and finds Taehyung curled on his side with his head on Namjoon's thigh and his bare feet tangled with Seokjin's. Namjoon has stripped down to boxers and his t-shirt, and Seokjin seems to have taken off everything but his huge sweater, which is pulled down over his knees. Namjoon is petting Taehyung's hair, but his wide dark eyes are fixed on Yoongi, kneeling behind Jungkook with two fingers in his ass. He crooks them and Jungkook moans, eyes sliding shut.
"Let me up, Jimin," Hoseok says. "It's my turn."
Jimin laughs softly. "Kookie, can you sit up for a second?" Jungkook isn't sure he can, actually, but for Jimin he'll try. He takes a deep breath and pushes up to his knees, letting Jimin unwind his arms from around him. He shivers uncomfortably at the loss of contact, but then Yoongi puts his free hand on his back, stroking down his spine, and Jungkook exhales and opens his eyes again.
"Good, that's good," Jimin says. He slides out from between Jungkook and Hoseok, leaving Hoseok free to swing himself off the side of the bed. Jimin's hair is a sex-rumpled mess, like someone has been dragging their fingers through it, and there's a string of purple marks down the side of his throat. Jungkook kind of wants to stare at him forever, but Jimin moves over to lean against Seokjin's shoulder just as Hoseok captures Jungkook's attention: he's dancing as he shimmies out of his underwear, sexy and ridiculous. Jungkook can't help grinning at him—he loves Hoseok so much—and Hoseok grins back and wraps his fist around the base of his dick.
"You ready for this?"
Jungkook nods and reaches out to grab Hoseok's waist with both hands, pushing forward on his knees until he can lean in and nuzzle the curve of his hip. He kisses his way along the clean line of Hoseok's groin, presses kiss after kiss to his stomach and the tops of his thighs and the defined muscles of his abs, licks over his fist and up the hard shaft of his cock. Hoseok lets him, murmuring encouragement, but when Jungkook tries to suck him, Hoseok cups his cheek and gently pushes his face away. "Careful, baby," he murmurs, "unless you want me to come like this instead of in your ass."
"Oh," Jungkook says helplessly. "No, I—fuck." Hoseok called him baby. He might spontaneously combust.
Hoseok laughs softly and steps away, getting on the bed next to Yoongi. Jungkook twists around just in time to see Yoongi and Hoseok exchange one of their speaking looks; at this point, they honestly might as well be telepathic.
"You ready?" Yoongi says to Hoseok, pulling his fingers out of Jungkook's ass. Jungkook whimpers, and Yoongi looks away from Hoseok to give him a reassuring smile. "Hoseok's going to make this so good for you," Yoongi says. "I promise."
"Damn right I am," Hoseok says to both of them. "Hyung, will you—"
"Yes." Yoongi pours lube over both his hands; then he slides three fingers back into Jungkook and slicks Hoseok's cock with his other hand. Jungkook watches the way Hoseok's eyes widen when Yoongi strokes his cock, the way he bites his lip and stares down at Yoongi's hand on him.
"Fuck, hyung," Hoseok whispers, "I can't believe this is actually happening."
Yoongi flushes, looking down at his hands. "Not the point right now, Hobi," he says, but then he leans in and kisses him, like he can't help himself. Jungkook licks his suddenly dry lips; Yoongi is kissing Hoseok carefully, but not chastely, and Jungkook's heart is in his throat, watching Hoseok's tongue come out to chase over the seam of Yoongi's lips until he parts them, watching Yoongi nip at Hoseok's lower lip and let the kiss deepen, just for a moment.
"Hyungs," Jungkook breathes. "Some other time, I want to watch you kiss forever, but—"
"Yeah," Yoongi sighs, releasing Hoseok's mouth. "Not the time, I know. Hoseokie, it's Jungkook's show."
"I know." Hoseok flashes a smile at Jungkook, so simultaneously sweet and predatory that Jungkook flushes again and digs his teeth into his lip. Hoseok's eyes go heavy-lidded with lust. "Can we come back to that watching us kiss thing sometime, though? Fuck."
"Yes please," Jungkook starts to say, but it turns into a moan when Yoongi scissors his fingers inside him.
"Back on your hands on knees," Yoongi says.
Jungkook obeys, letting his head hang down between his braced arms. He can't see them like this, but it's almost better that way. Like this, everything narrows down to sensation: Yoongi fucking him with his fingers, and then holding him open so Hoseok can slide right in on one smooth thrust.
Yoongi's fingers are still pressed against his rim as Hoseok starts to fuck him, three extra points of pressure. When he starts to pull them away, Jungkook moans, "No, stay."
"Fucking Christ," Yoongi groans. "Okay, sweetheart, fuck. Okay. Do you want me to—"
"Yes," Jungkook sobs. He's not sure what he's saying yes to, but he trusts Yoongi, and a moment later Yoongi's fingers are back in him, pressing in alongside Hoseok's cock.
"Oh, shit," Hoseok says, his voice cracking. "Shit, hyung." He rolls his hips, and when Jungkook cries out he does it again. "It's like you're jerking me off inside him," Hoseok says to Yoongi. "Every time I move I can feel you."
Jungkook lets Hoseok's familiar voice wash over him and concentrates on the feeling. It's good, lighting him up like a lamp; Yoongi's fingers are more flexible than Hoseok's dick, twisting and pressing unerringly into him, and Hoseok is fucking him in a slow rolling rhythm, like waves. It's almost enough, but not quite. It's like the feeling he gets three quarters of the way through a hard dance practice, sweaty and loose and pushed past his endurance and revved up for more. He shoves back into them, grinding into Hoseok's dick and Yoongi's fingers.
Yoongi makes an explosive noise and swears violently under his breath. "I want to try something," he says, after a moment. "Namjoon, c'mere, I need your hand."
"I'm not your stunt dick, hyung," Namjoon grumbles, but he scoots closer.
"You kind of are, though," Hoseok says, laughing. The roll of his hips stutters with his laughter, and Jungkook whines until Hoseok rubs his hands up and down his back. Jungkook exhales; he has his hands planted on the mattress, and it's not that different from push-ups. He wonders a little hazily whether he could replace some of his regular cardio with sex—and then Yoongi is pulling his fingers out and Namjoon is pushing his in. Namjoon's fingers are wider than Yoongi's, and Hoseok and Jungkook groan simultaneously.
"Fuck," Hoseok says, "fuck, fuck, Joonie—"
"This is so hot," Namjoon whispers, sounding overwhelmed. "Hoseokie, your dick, holy shit."
"Um," Hoseok says, high and frantic, "Okay, um, Namjoon, tell me something that is not hot, please."
"I don't think I can," Namjoon says helplessly. "There is literally nothing that is not hot right now. Yoongi-hyung is taking off his clothes, and you're, like, you're so hard, and Jungkookie is so wet, and I—god."
"Fuck," Hoseok says again, on a shaky thrust.
"Snow," Seokjin says loudly.
There's a rustling noise, and then Taehyung says sleepily, "Hyung, is that your safeword?"
"No," says Seokjin, sounding irritated, "snow is not hot."
"Oh my god." Hoseok starts giggling again. "Thanks, hyung. Really. Thank you."
"You're all fucking hopeless," Yoongi says dryly, but he's back on the bed between Hoseok and Namjoon, his cool hands on Jungkook's ass. "Are you ready for more, Kookie? Do you want to try taking me and Hobi at the same time?"
"Oh." It's not that Jungkook hasn't seen porn, but porn always seems a little silly and unrealistic, a whole world away from Yoongi calmly kneeling behind him and asking if he can take two dicks at once. He's never even—but he wants it, deeply and viscerally; he can feel the desire in his throat, in his ass, in his neglected cock, hard and leaking steadily into the sheets, despite the fact that there shouldn't be any come left in him. "Yes," he whispers.
"Good," Yoongi says. "If it ever gets to be too much, you let us know, okay? Promise me."
"Yes, hyung. I will."
"Good," Yoongi says again, and then, his voice low and rough and sweet, "You're so beautiful like this, Jungkook-ah. You're going to look so fucking gorgeous, taking both of us."
Jungkook whimpers and turns his burning face into his forearm. Yoongi calling him beautiful like this, when he's sticky and covered in come and out of his mind with something he can't control, is almost more than he can take. Yoongi isn't exactly stingy with praise—none of them are, and Jungkook is tuned to it like his own personal erotic radio frequency—but that's work, and this is fantasy made real, more than he ever dared to imagine.
Behind him he can hear the sound of the lube, and then Namjoon is pulling his fingers back out and the slick head of Yoongi's cock is pressing carefully into him.
For a moment, the stretch is honestly unbearable. Jungkook digs his teeth into his arm; it hurts, as his body adjusts, and then Yoongi slips a little further in, and Jungkook exhales shakily as the pain burns out into pleasure. He's never felt this full before, never knew he could feel this full. He spreads his knees wider, trying to make more room.
Hoseok has gone quiet, one heavy hand on Jungkook's back. He seems to be holding his breath as Yoongi pushes in, and Jungkook can feel the effort it takes him to stay still until Yoongi stops moving, balls-deep in Jungkook's ass. "Fuck," Hoseok whispers. "Yoongi."
"Yeah," Yoongi rasps, his voice sending sparks down Jungkook's spine—and Hoseok's, too, from the way he shivers. Yoongi curls a hand around Jungkook's hip and squeezes. "How are you doing?" he asks. "Can we move?"
Jungkook is pretty sure he'll die if they don't. He doesn't realize he's said it out loud until Hoseok laughs breathlessly and leans over to kiss his shoulder. The motion makes his dick shift inside Jungkook, and Yoongi groans. "Okay," Yoongi says roughly. "Okay. Hoseokie, fuck, let's go."
Their first thrust is shallow and uneven, not quite right and still so good that Jungkook cries out and has to bite his arm again. It takes a few false starts, but soon Yoongi and Hoseok are fucking him together, more intense than anything he's ever felt. It's so much all at once that he loses his balance and falls forward onto his stomach, his arms suddenly unable to hold him up; but it doesn't matter: both of them keep fucking him through it, pounding him into the mattress.
He can't seem to stop making noise, even when he shoves his face into a pillow. Hoseok is swearing steadily above him, and even though Yoongi is silent, the clench and release of his hand on Jungkook's hip is almost like words, hot and encouraging. Jungkook loses track of everything but their hands on him, their dicks in him, and before he knows it he's coming again, heat and pressure burning him up from the inside.
"Fuck, Jungkook," Hoseok groans, and comes on a long, stuttering thrust that makes Yoongi cry out and fuck Jungkook even harder, for three whole thrusts before he's coming too.
It takes Jungkook's brain a while to come back online, after that. He feels it when Yoongi and Hoseok pull out, messy and a little uncomfortable. But the first thing he registers clearly is the empty, desperate feeling crawling back up his nerve endings. This time, he focuses on his core and tries to breathe through it—he's not sure he can even move from where he's collapsed face-down in the damp sheets, and his thighs and ass are wet with come. Give me a minute, here, he thinks helplessly, and for a moment it seems like the intensity recedes. He's still hard, but he can breathe. Hoseok has fallen over half on top of him, and Yoongi presses in on his other side and kisses his bare shoulder.
"You did so well," Yoongi murmurs. "Fuck, I've never seen anything like it."
"We're so lucky," Hoseok says dreamily.
Yoongi lifts Jungkook's unresisting arm, pressing kisses to the bite marks. "Fucking gorgeous." He kisses the inside of Jungkook's elbow, and then his wrist, and then leans in to kiss the corner of his mouth. "How are you feeling?"
Jungkook catches Yoongi's mouth and deepens the kiss. "Good?" he tries, and then, because Yoongi is raising a disbelieving eyebrow, "Better than before, I swear. I—thank you."
"Thank you," Yoongi says, kissing him again, just as Hoseok says, "You're amazing, Kookie."
Jungkook opens his mouth to protest, and closes it again; he can feel himself turning pink, half pleasure and half embarrassment. Then Hoseok kisses his neck, and he can't hold back a moan.
"You need more, don't you?" Yoongi asks, but it's not really a question; he's already reaching over Jungkook to get Hoseok's attention. Between them, Yoongi and Hoseok help Jungkook roll over onto his back, and then they're all just staring at his dick, hard and red and poking up into the air.
"Goddamn," Jimin says, leaning around Yoongi to trail his fingers through the layers of tacky come on Jungkook's abs. "We've kind of been neglecting your dick, but I could go again. Do you want to fuck me?"
Jungkook's vision goes hazy, and his dick twitches. Does he want to fuck Jimin? Of course he fucking wants to fuck Jimin, but the desperation is back, his skin tight and hungry, and he can already tell that it wouldn't be enough. He needs someone in him. "Yes," he says helplessly, "but—I think I need—Namjoon?"
"I'm here," Namjoon says.
Jungkook looks up to see Namjoon disentangling himself from Taehyung. He's flushed, hair sticking up in all directions, and there's an impressive bulge in his boxers. "Hi," Jungkook says, suddenly shy.
"Hi." Namjoon smiles down at him and holds out his hands; when Jungkook takes them, Namjoon pulls him up into his arms. Namjoon is usually kind of a noodle, and Jungkook is a lot stronger than he is, but he lets Namjoon take his weight, lets Namjoon wrap his long noodle arms around him and hug him tightly, sweet and just a little awkward. Jungkook presses his face into the warm curve of Namjoon's neck and breathes in the smell of him, sweat and sex and ink and the vaguely fruity cologne Jungkook has stolen from him more than once.
"Hi," he breathes out against Namjoon's throat. Namjoon slides his big hands up Jungkook's back and into his hair, and then tips his head back to kiss him. The kiss is slow and thorough, like Namjoon wants to be careful with him, like he's something precious. Jungkook thinks he would have resented that an hour ago, but all he wants now is to melt into it, to let Namjoon kiss him and hold him and treasure him.
"Hi," Namjoon says again, when he breaks the kiss, and then he giggles, dimpling. "Sorry, I—wow, okay." He backs off a little, one hand coming to rest on Jungkook's shoulder and the other in his hair. "I haven't done this a lot, either," he admits, "and not for a while. Is that okay? I don't want to do anything wrong."
Jungkook blinks at him, and then says blankly, "Hyung, you couldn't." Namjoon starts to frown, and Jungkook rushes on, "I've had a crush on you since I was thirteen. I'm pretty sure there's nothing you could do to me that I wouldn't—like." His cheeks are hot as he finishes, but he's not about to take it back.
Namjoon's whole face scrunches up, and he lifts his hand from Jungkook's shoulder to briefly cover his eyes. "Okay," he says after a moment. "Jesus. Okay, but—you mean too much to me to just—"
"Don't overthink it, Joon," Yoongi advises, from behind Jungkook; he's curled between Hoseok and Jimin at the head of the bed. Hoseok has his face buried in Yoongi's hair, and Jimin is holding his hand and watching Jungkook and Namjoon intently.
"I overthink everything," Namjoon says, at the same time that Seokjin says, "He overthinks everything." They both dissolve into giggles, Seokjin's familiar squeaking laugh making everyone smile. Hoseok lifts his head, grinning, and Jimin rolls his eyes. Namjoon doubles over to bury his laughter in Jungkook's shoulder, and Seokjin throws his head back, exposing the long line of his throat; Jungkook can see him out of the corner of his eye, on Jimin's other side.
"Well, you do," Seokjin says eventually, laughter still in his voice. "But you've got this, Joon-ah. Jungkookie knows what he wants."
Namjoon lifts his head and meets Seokjin's eyes over Jungkook's shoulder. Jungkook can tell from the way he goes still and then swallows hard, the tension in his hands: Namjoon is no more immune to Seokjin than Jungkook is, or any of them.
"Go on," Seokjin says, soft and teasing at the same time, "do us proud."
"Do me proud," Jungkook says cheekily, because Seokjin raised him right, and he's gratified when Seokjin makes a hilarious squawking noise and starts laughing again. Namjoon's eyes snap back to Jungkook, though, heated and dark, and he can't wait anymore. "Get these off," he demands, reaching for the waistband of Namjoon's boxers. "Please?"
"Yeah," Namjoon says, and starts trying to take off his own boxers, fingers tangling with Jungkook's.
"Don't help, hyung," Jungkook says, laughing as Namjoon somehow manages to trip over his own knees and starts to overbalance. But Taehyung is there, catching Namjoon's shoulders and steadying him. He wraps his arms around Namjoon from behind and leans in to whisper something in his ear that Jungkook can't hear—whatever it is, though, it makes Namjoon flush and bite his lip, and hold up his arms so Taehyung can peel off his shirt.
Jungkook gets caught watching them: Taehyung's broad shoulders bracing Namjoon's narrower ones, the contrasting tones of their tanned skin, the corded muscles of Taehyung's forearm and Namjoon's dark round nipples and the softness of his stomach and his thighs, god—
"Kookie, you're drooling," Taehyung says, laughing. "But honestly, who could blame you?"
"What," Namjoon says, looking embarrassed. "Come on."
Taehyung rolls his eyes, and Seokjin says, "Modesty is not actually that becoming, Namjoon. I would know."
"Yeah," Namjoon says, nettled, "because you're the most beautiful man on the planet, hyung. I'm just, like, me."
Jungkook tugs Namjoon's boxers down, and Taehyung leans over to help, bracing Namjoon so Jungkook can get the boxers off his endless legs.
"You're so fucking hot," Hoseok says. "Fuck, Joon, do you seriously not know that? We stare at you all the time."
"I'm the leader," Namjoon protests, sounding a little choked. Jungkook puts his hands on Namjoon's knees and slides his palms up his bare thighs.
"Yeah," Hoseok agrees, patiently, "but you're not just the leader. You're also, like—sometimes I want to kiss you so bad it keeps me up at night."
Jungkook knows exactly how that feels. His mouth is watering before he even gets his first real look at Namjoon's dick, and then he feels a little dizzy. It's one thing to know that Namjoon is the biggest of them, bigger even than Taehyung, and another thing entirely to see him naked and hard and fucking huge, totally at odds with the shocked, wide-eyed look on his face.
"I can't wait to sit on your dick, hyung," Jimin puts in, and Namjoon flushes red all the way down his chest.
"I—" he starts, and Jungkook watches his throat bob as he swallows. "Fuck, really? All of you?"
"Yes," Jimin and Hoseok say in unison. "Obviously," Seokjin says, and mutters, "you idiot," not quite under his breath. Taehyung leans forward to bite lightly at Namjoon's ear, and Jungkook tightens his hands on Namjoon's thighs, even though he doesn't think his interest is really in question.
"Yoongi?" Namjoon asks, his voice small and tentative.
"Jin's right," Yoongi says, after a moment. "You’re an idiot. I tried to get you into bed at least ten times in the first month we knew each other. I kept trying, but it was really more of an academic exercise since you never caught on, and then Hobi and hyung and the kids came along, and I thought maybe it was a little pathetic to keep trying, and why mess with a good thing when it was working. Or whatever. But it's not like I stopped wanting you at any point in the last seven years, asshole."
"Oh," Namjoon says faintly.
"So yeah," Yoongi continues. "It's all of us. But right now it's Jungkook. He needs you, and we're all gonna watch."
Jungkook shivers, and Namjoon's hands come up to grip his waist, fingertips pressing into Jungkook's skin. "You need me?" he asks. It's a good attempt at a tease, but a little too breathless, too earnest.
"I need you so much," Jungkook says honestly. He inches forward on his knees until he can straddle Namjoon's thighs. Namjoon exhales harshly, his eyes wide and dark, and Jungkook leans in to kiss him. It's a wet kiss, sloppy and warm, and Namjoon's hands slide down to his ass and squeeze.
"Fuck," Namjoon mutters against his mouth. "Fuck, your ass is incredible. I knew, but I didn't know. How are there so many good asses in this group? It can't be natural. It's like, fate, or something—"
"Namjoon-hyung is a talker," Taehyung says from behind him, sounding delighted. "This is the best day of my life."
"I like it," Jungkook says, making a face at Taehyung over Namjoon's shoulder. "I like his voice. Hyung is so good at talking."
Namjoon blinks at him, pink and embarrassed, and then he says, "Thanks, Jungkookie," and squeezes his ass again.
Jungkook groans and grinds back into Namjoon's hands, and Namjoon gives him a bright, proud smile, like Jungkook has done something amazing. Jungkook has done a lot of things in his life to get Namjoon to look at him like that, and right now it's almost too much. He presses his sweaty forehead against Namjoon's shoulder, grinding harder into his hands until Namjoon takes the hint and slips his fingers up the crease of Jungkook's ass, and then, when Jungkook whines and squirms, pushes two fingers into him.
Namjoon's fingers are dry, and they drag a little against Jungkook's hole, but they go in smooth; Jungkook is still open and wet with come and lube. "Fuck," Namjoon breathes, "You're ready for me, aren't you? All fucked open from Tae and Hobi and Yoongi-hyung."
"Yes," Jungkook whines, "come on, hyung, please." He feels more lucid this time, but not any less desperate. Namjoon is under him and around him, Jungkook's thighs spread wide over Namjoon's and Namjoon's arms around him, his fingers in him. He lifts his head, leaning back so he can look down at Namjoon's dick between them, and puts his hand out to touch, fingertips sliding over the pre-come beading at the head.
"Here," Jimin says, and there's a soft thud which turns out to be the bottle of lube landing on the bed next to them. Taehyung picks it up before either Jungkook or Namjoon can move and slicks his hands; then he hooks his chin over Namjoon's shoulder and reaches around to stroke his dick, his fingers brushing over Jungkook's, slippery and slick.
"Tae," Namjoon groans. "Your hands are so big, fuck."
Taehyung laughs, and then pulls his hands away and wipes them off on the sheets. "Okay, you're good to go. Jungkookie, up."
Jungkook is good at following instructions, especially when they're what he wants to do anyway. He lifts his hips and moves forward on his knees until he's straddling Namjoon's waist. Namjoon is staring at him with wide eyes, his mouth a little open, and Jungkook is worried for a moment that he might fall over, even with Taehyung still bracing him. But instead, he takes a deep breath, pulls his fingers out of Jungkook's ass, and puts his hands on Jungkook's hips; Jungkook closes his eyes and slides down onto his dick.
He takes it fast, gravity doing most of the work, but he's still breathing hard by the time he's fully seated. Namjoon's dick feels huge inside him, and he squirms a little, rolling his hips experimentally. Namjoon is almost completely still beneath him, except for the faint tremors in his hands on Jungkook's hips. Jungkook opens his eyes to see him digging his teeth into his lower lip, and he reaches out to put his hands on Namjoon's shoulders. "You can move, hyung," he says breathlessly.
"You should—start," Namjoon says.
Jungkook grins. "Okay." He pushes up, and then presses back down; he can feel the burn in his quads—the good kind of burn—and Namjoon's eyes track from his mouth down his chest to the flexing muscles of his thighs. Jungkook shows off a little, arches his back and takes his hands off Namjoon's shoulders to rub his palms up and down his own thighs as he rides Namjoon's dick. He takes it slow at first, trying to get Namjoon as deep in him as he can, but it feels too good, and once Namjoon starts moving with him, Jungkook goes a little crazy. And then it's too much, too fast—he can't get it right, loses the rhythm and his balance, until somebody grabs his shoulders from behind.
He has his eyes squeezed shut, and he thinks at first that it's Taehyung, doing for him what he was doing for Namjoon—but that doesn't make sense. Taehyung is still behind Namjoon, and the hands on his shoulders are smaller, firm and strong and long-fingered.
"Slow down," Hoseok says in Jungkook's ear. "Let me help."
"Oh," Jungkook gasps, and leans his head back against Hoseok's shoulder. Hoseok kisses his neck and rubs his shoulders, and then he moves his hands down to Jungkook's hips and guides him back into the rhythm, slow and steady until Jungkook's locked in—exactly the way he does in dance practice.
"Hobi," Namjoon groans, as Jungkook fucks back down onto him with Hoseok's help. Jungkook can feel Hoseok's grin against his bare shoulder, and he blinks his eyes open just in time to see him pull Namjoon in for a kiss. Hoseok's hand curls around the back of Namjoon's neck as they kiss, and their faces are so close that Jungkook can see everything in close-up: Hoseok's white teeth and Namjoon's pink tongue, the way Hoseok sucks Namjoon's full lower lip into his mouth. It's so hot that he has to brace a hand on Namjoon's shoulder again, and Taehyung reaches up to tangle their fingers together, holding his hand.
Hoseok lets go of Namjoon and sits back on his heels. "Sorry," he says, not sounding very sorry. "Carry on."
"I want a turn," Taehyung says, pouting. "Kookie, can I kiss Namjoon-hyung?"
"Yes please," Jungkook says.
"Does Namjoon get a say?" Hoseok asks, laughing.
"Yes please," Namjoon echoes, smiling as he turns his head and Taehyung leans in. Namjoon visibly melts as Taehyung cups his face, kissing him sweet and slow.
"Fuck," Jungkook whispers. Namjoon groans into Taehyung's mouth, and Jungkook starts riding him again, fucking himself on the long, hard length of Namjoon's cock.
"You're so good," Hoseok says in his ear, hushed and smoky, and Jungkook moans as Hoseok takes hold of his dick. He tries to keep his eyes open, wants desperately to keep watching Namjoon and Taehyung, but Hoseok's hand on his dick pushes him over the edge and he comes, hot and sudden as Hoseok strokes him through it.
He's still shaking through the aftershocks when Namjoon leans in to kiss him, and he's not entirely sure how he ends up with his arms around Namjoon's neck, clinging to him like a life preserver, but Namjoon keeps kissing him until he can breathe again. "Hi," he says hoarsely, after a while, and Namjoon laughs softly and kisses his hair.
"Hi," Namjoon murmurs, and then he shifts a little, biting his lip, and Jungkook is suddenly, achingly aware that Namjoon's hard dick is still in his ass.
"Oh," he gasps.
"Um," Namjoon says. "Sorry, should I—"
"No," Jungkook says. "Fuck me."
Namjoon laughs again, low and heated, and it sends a shock of pleasure up Jungkook's spine. "Okay," he says. "But I think you should—lie back?"
Jungkook nods—truthfully, he feels like his legs aren't going to hold him up for much longer—and Namjoon smiles and tips him backwards off his lap. Hoseok's hands are on his shoulders, guiding him down, and Jungkook ends up on his back with his head pillowed on Yoongi's thigh. He looks up into Yoongi's warm dark eyes, and Yoongi brushes his hair back off his forehead and bends over to press a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth.
"You're doing great, baby," Yoongi says quietly, and Jungkook sighs, pleased and shivery. Namjoon's hands are on the backs of his thighs, lifting his legs, and he moans when Namjoon fucks back into him. The angle is different like this, and Namjoon's dick feels even bigger inside him. He's nailing Jungkook's overworked prostate on every perfect thrust, and it's so overwhelmingly good—so much, after Taehyung and Jimin and Hoseok and Yoongi and more orgasms than he can even count—that he feels hot tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.
He turns his face into Yoongi's thigh, but even that is too much, and he's sobbing before he can stop himself, tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. Then Jimin is there, kissing the tears away.
Namjoon's thrusts stutter. "Oh no, is he—"
"I'm okay," Jungkook sobs. "It's not bad, it's just—it's so much. Please don't stop." He reaches out blindly for Namjoon and catches his bicep. "I love you."
"I love you too, Jungkook-ah," Namjoon says softly, and keeps fucking him. Each thrust sends Jungkook further out of control, spiraling out of his own head until he loses track of everything but feeling. There are hands on him—Jimin's and Yoongi's, Namjoon's—and he thinks he comes again, knows Namjoon must have, because when he finally comes back to himself Namjoon is collapsed on the bed beside him, sweaty and glassy-eyed, with Seokjin's arms around him and Taehyung stroking his back.
Jungkook's face is wet, and he lifts a shaky hand to wipe away the tears. Jimin catches his hand and kisses his knuckles. "Oh," Jungkook says. His voice is as shaky as his hands. "Wow."
"Yeah," Jimin says, smirking a little. "How are you doing there, buddy?"
"Wow," Jungkook repeats, because he's all out of other words.
"Namjoon-hyung fucked you so good," Jimin says. He's curled into Jungkook's side, one arm over Jungkook's chest and the other propping his head up against Yoongi's knee. Yoongi has one hand in Jimin's hair. "I feel like I should be jealous, but it was so hot to watch. Do you think we're all voyeuristic perverts or something?"
From above them, Yoongi gives a rich, low laugh that's one of Jungkook's favorite sounds in the entire world. "Jiminie, I feel like it would be more surprising if we weren't all voyeuristic perverts."
Jimin giggles, and then his eyes go comically wide. "Speaking of which," he murmurs, "look at that."
Jungkook turns his head and his breath catches. Seokjin has finally uncurled from where he's been sitting at the head of the bed with his knees up, and he's stretched out half on top of Namjoon with their long bare legs tangled together. The hem of Seokjin's huge sweater has ridden up to expose the tops of his thighs, and Namjoon has both hands fisted in his hair. They're kissing so deeply that Jungkook isn't sure how either of them is going to come up for air.
Hoseok and Taehyung have moved down to the foot of the bed, giving them room. "Whoa," Hoseok says quietly, "that's—something."
"Hyung," Jungkook asks, looking up at Yoongi, "Have they ever, before?"
Yoongi shakes his head. "It would've meant too much."
"But you and hyung did?"
"Yeah," Yoongi says, "but it was just as friends, when we both needed something. Casual, like you were with Jimin and Tae. I thought you all knew about it, actually, or we would have said something before." He makes a face, and then sighs. "We didn't talk about it much, Jungkookie, because feelings are terrible." Jungkook giggles, and Yoongi rolls his eyes, mouth quirking. "Look, it's like—you got it right. Jin and me could fuck without it getting weird, because that's what we're like as people, but when it comes to feelings, to something real? It's all of us or nothing. Namjoon's got a lot of bottled-up feelings to get out, I think."
"Me too," Jungkook says without thinking, and Yoongi laughs.
"You think?" He brushes Jungkook's hair back and leans over to kiss him, upside down. "I'm glad you do," Yoongi murmurs. "Weird sex pollen shit and all, I'm glad."
Jungkook's chest feels warm, and he drags Yoongi back down for another kiss. When he lets him go, Seokjin and Namjoon are still kissing; Namjoon's hands are on Seokjin's back, rucking up the material of his sweater. The intense, prickly arousal that's been driving Jungkook all night is still there, but it feels different now: still desperate, but softer—except, of course, that he's still hard.
Jimin's hand slides down his stomach to his dick, his thumb stroking over the flushed head. "You're not done yet, are you?"
Jungkook shakes his head, his hips bucking into Jimin's hand, and he swallows a choked-off moan that makes Jimin grin wickedly.
He doesn't know if it's the moan that gets their attention or something else, but Seokjin and Namjoon finally break apart. Seokjin pushes himself up and back on his heels, and Namjoon collapses down onto the bed, looking dazed.
"Okay," Seokjin says breathlessly, and turns his head to look at Jungkook, spread out on his back in Yoongi's lap, with Jimin's hand on his dick. He flashes Jungkook his heartbreaker smile. "I think it's my turn, hmm?"
"You want to?" Jungkook asks, suddenly shy. "You've just been watching, hyung. This whole time." He tries to put some bravado into it, but his voice comes out too small. It's Jin.
"I like watching," Seokjin says mildly, and then looks around at the others. "I have to make sure all my dongsaengs are taken care of, don't I?"
"You're the best hyung," Namjoon says earnestly, although his voice is a little slurred.
"Hey," Yoongi complains, and Hoseok laughs, but Jungkook is still watching Seokjin as he tries to hide his pleasure at the compliment behind an ironic face. It doesn't work very well, because his cheeks are pink and his eyes are very bright.
"I know," Seokjin says, waving a hand airily, "obviously." He smiles at Namjoon, soft around the edges, and then looks back at Jungkook. When he meets Jungkook's eyes, his expression turns serious. "I do want to, Jungkook-ah. I've wanted to for a while." He's toying with the hem of his sweater, and after a moment he seems to come to some kind of a decision and strips it off over his head. He bunches the sweater up in front of him for a moment, and then rolls his shoulders back and tosses it onto the floor beside the bed—and he must have taken off his underwear earlier, because he's naked, flushed all the way down his chest, and hard.
Seokjin's dick isn't quite as big as Namjoon's, which Jungkook already knew, but it's long and oddly elegant, as beautiful as the rest of him. Jungkook can't help staring, but when Seokjin clears his throat pointedly, he blushes and drags his eyes back up to his face.
"Rude," Seokjin says.
Jungkook gives him a guileless look. "But you're so handsome, hyung."
"Of course I am," Seokjin agrees, preening, "but that's no excuse. Someone should teach you some better manners, Jungkook-ah."
"You can try," Jungkook says, and spreads his legs as provocatively as he can manage. As he does it, he has a sudden hot flash of realization about what this means. He and Seokjin have years of teasing behind them, real fights and play fights and one-upmanship, Jungkook deliberately dropping honorifics and Seokjin finding more and more creative ways to retaliate. And now, on top of all of that, there's this: there's sex, and it's hot, and a little strange, and—fun. Jungkook can already see how good this is going to be, with Seokjin and the others, the way it fits near-seamlessly into what they already have.
Seokjin puts his hands on his hips, which makes his shoulders seem even broader. "I could," he says, and then he glances away, looking unexpectedly hesitant. Above Jungkook, Yoongi makes a surprised noise, almost too quiet to hear.
"I'll fuck you if that's what you want, Jungkook-ah," Seokjin says, "but to tell you the truth, I'd much rather you fucked me."
There's a slightly shocked moment of silence, the scratch of an old record.
"Ohh," Hoseok breathes out, finally, and then starts to laugh.
Seokjin hurls a pillow at him, hitting him squarely in the face. Hoseok holds the pillow over his face, laughing into it, until a grinning Taehyung takes it away from him. "Sorry," Hoseok says, gasping a little, "sorry, hyung, it's not that funny, I'm not making fun of you, it's just—that makes so much sense."
Yoongi makes an amused noise, and Seokjin rolls his eyes and gives a half-embarrassed shrug.
Jungkook is still staring at Seokjin when Jimin leans in and whispers in his ear, "Can you imagine?" Jimin has stopped stroking his dick, but his hand is petting Jungkook's thigh, and Jungkook can hear the heat and desire in his voice. The truth is, Jungkook can't imagine. He's never dared. No matter how much he wanted Seokjin, dreamed about him, fantasized, awkwardly got hard when Seokjin looked at him or ruffled his hair or blew him a kiss or wrestled with him—no matter what, Seokjin was always, somehow, untouchable.
"Jin-hyung," he says, his voice breaking, "you want me to—"
Seokjin nods. He looks anxious, determined, intent, and Jungkook loves him so much he can't breathe. "I do."
Seokjin gives him a devastating smile. "I know. Don't worry, maknae. You're good at everything."
Jungkook swallows hard. He's not sure about that; but for Jin, for any of them, he'll try as hard as he knows how. "Where, um—how do you—want me?" He asks, stumbling over the words, but Seokjin just waves an airy hand.
"Stay there, on your back." Seokjin takes the bottle of lube from Taehyung when he holds it out to him, and then looks down at Namjoon, who seems mostly asleep, and pokes him in the dimple.
"I can't move, hyung," Namjoon whines, without opening his eyes. "You and Jungkookie killed me."
"Fine," Seokjin says, "but you'd better wake up enough to watch me ride Jungkookie's dick."
Namjoon's eyes blink open, and he pushes himself up on his elbows before collapsing back down. "Oh, yeah, okay," he stammers. "What? Yes."
Seokjin laughs and kisses Namjoon's forehead. "Just don't fall asleep," he says, and then turns away from Namjoon and holds out the lube. "Yoongi? Would you do the honors?"
"Your ass is not a fucking honor," Yoongi grumbles, but he clambers out from under Jungkook, sliding a pillow in to support Jungkook's head. Jimin scoots up so he can share Jungkook's pillow, and at the foot of the bed Taehyung and Hoseok settle in, cuddled together and holding hands.
"Hey," Jimin says, "d'you want to come again before Jin-hyung's ready for you?" He trails his fingers down Jungkook's chest and pinches his nipple. Jungkook groans and Jimin laughs, looking pleased. But although Jungkook is hard, he doesn't feel like he's going to explode. The prickly feeling has quieted, and his balls ache a little, over-stimulated and wrung out, pushed past the limits of ordinary human endurance. He can't be sure, because everything his body has done tonight has been a little bit crazy, but he thinks he might only have one orgasm left before it's burned out of his system.
He shakes his head. "I can wait. I think it might be almost over?"
Jimin smiles at him, eyes crinkling. "Not that I couldn't have gone for round five hundred, but that's kind of a relief." He slides his hand up Jungkook's thigh and ghosts his fingers over his dick. "Save this for Seokjin-hyung, hmm?"
Jungkook giggles and turns his face into the warm curve of Jimin's neck. "Kiss me?"
"Any time," Jimin says, and draws him up into a kiss. Jimin's lips are soft, but his kiss is hard and warm, possessive; he licks into Jungkook's mouth and takes what he wants, and Jungkook hangs on and lets him, kisses back as deeply and thoroughly as he's ever wanted to, until someone clears their throat and Jimin squeezes his neck and lets him go.
"Ready?" Seokjin asks.
"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" Jungkook says without thinking, but Seokjin just snorts.
"Trust me," he says, and swings one leg over Jungkook hips. It's surprisingly graceful, and Jungkook suddenly can't seem to do anything but stare up at him, helpless and overwhelmed. It gets worse when Seokjin puts both lubed hands on Jungkook's dick, prepping him; then he kneels up over him and Jungkook feels like whatever is left of his brain is leaking out his ears.
"Breathe," Seokjin says, laughing a little, but his grip on Jungkook's dick tightens and then he's pressing down until Jungkook is inside him. It's just the head of his cock at first, but Seokjin isn't laughing anymore; his eyes flutter shut, and he bites his lower lip, sliding down on Jungkook's cock so slowly that Jungkook honestly thinks he might die—or come, which would be worse—before he's all the way inside.
He doesn't, but he's gasping and sweaty and wild-eyed, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other clenched tight in Jimin's, by the time Seokjin stops moving. His only consolation is that Seokjin is also breathing hard, and when he opens his eyes his gaze is heated and intense. He takes a breath and adjusts, which makes Jungkook moan, and then he smiles and tilts his head back, showing off the long line of his throat.
"Put your hands on my waist," Seokjin says huskily, and Jungkook does as he's told. His hands feel huge on Seokjin's narrow waist, clumsy and awkward and too young, but then Seokjin starts riding him and Jungkook loses his mind.
At first, he's just hanging on for dear life, clinging to Seokjin while Seokjin takes what he wants. It's incredible—Seokjin is tight, and hot, and his skin is soft under Jungkook's hands, and Jungkook keeps his eyes open and watches him: his flushed chest and the gorgeous curve of his back and his broad shoulders and his pink mouth. Jungkook wants desperately to film Seokjin like this, even though he knows he never could. And then, after a minute, Seokjin covers Jungkook's hands with his own and levels him with a look. "Put your back into it, Jungkook-ah," he says. "What are all those muscles even for?"
"Oh," Jungkook gasps, half-laughing. He pulls his legs up, planting his feet on the bed so he can get some leverage, and uses his grip on Seokjin's waist to lift him, fucking up into him as Seokjin grinds back down.
"There we go," Seokjin says, tossing his head back, and it's on. Jungkook's body takes over, conditioning and training winning out over fucked-out exhaustion, and he fucks Seokjin as hard as he can while Seokjin rides him. He doesn't last very long, but as soon as he starts to come, Seokjin drags one of Jungkook's hands to his dick and they jerk him off together.
"Jin," Jungkook moans. Seokjin's dick is impossibly hot in his hand, wet with pre-come, and Seokjin's hips jerk when Jungkook says his name. "Jin," he says, again, and then, "Hyung," and Seokjin comes, striping Jungkook's hand and abs and chest. A drop of come hits Jungkook in the mouth and he licks it off his lips, satisfied.
They're both shaking as Seokjin collapses onto his chest, but Jungkook still manages to thread his fingers into Seokjin's hair and bring his mouth up to kiss. He tastes Seokjin's smile on his lips, and they kiss for a long time, slow and breathless, until they've both calmed down.
"See," Seokjin murmurs against his mouth, "you are good at everything."
"Hyung," Jungkook whines, trying to hide his face in Seokjin's shoulder, but he's smiling when Seokjin kisses him again. It's sweet, gentle, and after a moment Seokjin pulls back to cup Jungkook's cheek and rub his thumb over Jungkook's mouth.
"You're all pink," Seokjin says, looking down at him with soft eyes. "How are you feeling?"
"Amazing," Jungkook says honestly, and Seokjin smiles and pushes back up to his knees with a groan. He winces as he climbs off Jungkook, but then he lies down next to him and wraps his arms around him. Jungkook sighs, content, and rests his forehead on Seokjin's shoulder, breathing in the smell of him, sweat and sex and Seokjin, familiar as the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.
He feels totally relaxed for the first time in forever—not just since he started feeling weird in the car, but before that, before the promo started, before comeback, maybe as long as he's been carrying around a heart full of feelings he didn't know what to do with. For the first time in a long time, he feels like all the tension has run out of him, left him drained and loose, like whatever the sexy version is of a wrung-out towel. He giggles into Seokjin's shoulder, and Seokjin presses a kiss to his hair.
"Hey," Jimin says, "Jungkook's not hard anymore."
Jungkook lifts his head and looks down at himself, and it's true: there's his dick, as wrung-out as the rest of him. "Thank god," he says, collapsing back onto the pillows.
"People pay good money for drugs that do that shit," Hoseok says, grinning at Jungkook, and then he adds, "actually, what am I even saying, there are no drugs that do this shit."
"I think it was magic," Taehyung says. "Sex witches."
"Tae," Jimin protests.
"Magic," Taehyung hisses, but Jimin ignores him and leans over Jungkook with narrowed, assessing eyes.
"Are you sure you're feeling okay?" he asks, sounding a little worried. "As soon as the endorphins wear off you're going to hurt like hell."
He's right, but Jungkook can't say that he minds; he wants to feel everything tomorrow, remember everything that happened tonight with each twinge of his muscles. "I'm okay," he says. "I'm better than okay. I know it's going to hurt tomorrow, but I don't regret a single thing." He takes a deep breath and pushes himself up to sitting, so he can see all of them. "I don't know what it was, drugs or sex pollen or magic"—Taehyung mutters an explosive 'ha'—"but I'm just—I'm so happy this happened. I've never been happier." His eyes are wet, and he wipes them with the back of his hand. "So, yeah," he finishes helplessly, "thanks."
"Any time," Namjoon says, smiling with both dimples. He has his chin hooked over Yoongi's shoulder and his arms around him.
"So, again tomorrow?" Jungkook asks hopefully.
Namjoon laughs. "I mean, sure."
"I want a turn," Jimin says, "and on a purely practical note, Jungkook might actually die if we go six rounds on him every night."
"Die happy," Jungkook mutters, but he's grinning.
"We'll work it out," Seokjin says, and the others nod their agreement; Jungkook feels warm down to his bones, loved.
"In the meantime, though," Hoseok says, after a moment in which they all just sit there smiling dazedly at each other, "this bed is disgusting."
"Thank you, Hobi," Yoongi says dryly, but then he sighs and tugs on Namjoon's hands until they're both standing. "Okay," Yoongi says, "Namjoon and I will deal with the bed. Taehyung, Jimin, get Jungkook into the shower. Hobi and Jin-hyung—"
"Food," Seokjin says. "You got ramen?" Hoseok nods, and Seokjin pushes himself to his feet. "I'll go clean up, first," he says, already on his way to the bathroom.
"You're so good at giving orders, Yoongi-hyung," Hoseok says, batting his eyelashes at Yoongi.
"Fuck you," Yoongi says, without any heat.
"Mmm." Hoseok laughs, getting off the bed. "Maybe tomorrow."
Taehyung captures Jungkook's attention before he can see if Yoongi blushes. "Hey," he says, kneeling above Jungkook and taking both his hands. "Shower?"
"I don't know if I can stand," Jungkook admits, but Taehyung just smiles at him, and Jimin wraps an arm around his shoulders.
"We'll help you," Jimin says, and between them, they bundle him up off the bed and into the bathroom. Seokjin already has the shower running, the mirror steaming over; he leaves them to it after a moment, though, and Taehyung and Jimin climb in with Jungkook, holding him up as they wash away the come and sweat and lube.
By the time they get out of the shower, Seokjin and Hoseok have steaming cups of ramen and big bottles of water for everyone. Somehow—Jungkook is too tired to ask how—Yoongi and Namjoon dealt with the dirty sheets, but there's not enough room for everyone to sleep in the solitary king-sized bed, so they put on enough clothes to stagger next door to the room Jimin and Hoseok are sharing. Jungkook's own dirty clothes have disappeared somewhere, but Yoongi hands him a sleep shirt and sweats that fit well enough that Yoongi might have borrowed them from him. Jungkook winds up in one bed, sandwiched between Hoseok and Yoongi, with Namjoon and Seokjin and Jimin one bed away and Taehyung, who got the losing draw, on the couch. He falls asleep to the familiar sounds of steady breathing and soft laughter, sheets rustling as everyone settles around him, home.
"Hi!" the girl says, bouncing up to Jungkook in the signing line. Her hair is dyed a bright, vibrant purple, and she smiles shyly, sweet and genuine. He smiles back automatically; she seems familiar, but he doesn't actually recognize her until she says in careful, halting Korean, "Did you get your wish? Was it something nice?"
Jungkook blinks, confused, and then he does recognize her: it's the same girl from the fansign the day before, the one who'd given him the cookies. "You—" he starts, stammering. He can feel how wide his eyes are. "The cookies?"
She laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. "Oh, no," she says, "those were just cookies." Then she says something that's too fast for him to understand, and he holds up his hand.
"Wait," he says in English, and ducks down the table to tug Namjoon away from the fans he's talking to; they look disappointed, but brighten when Seokjin steps in to distract them.
"What is it?" Namjoon asks, looking worried. "Is something wrong?"
Jungkook shakes his head. There's a strange feeling in his chest, bubbling like champagne, or a fountain. He wants to laugh, and then he wants the fansign to be over so he can kiss Namjoon and Seokjin and Yoongi and Hoseok and Jimin and Tae. "There's this girl who was here yesterday," Jungkook says, quietly enough that nobody else can hear. "I think—I think it was her."
"Her what?" Namjoon says blankly, and then his eyes widen. "Wait, really? Tae was right?"
"Just talk to her for me," Jungkook hisses; they're back at his end of the table. The girl with the purple hair is still there, biting her lip and looking anxious, but she smiles when she sees Namjoon.
"Jungkook asked me to translate," Namjoon tells the girl in English, sounding apologetic. "Sorry, what's your name?"
"Lily," the girl says. "Sorry, I'm learning Korean, but I'm not very good."
"That's so sweet," Namjoon coos, and then he says something Jungkook can't follow and she laughs, blushing.
"She asked me if I got my wish," Jungkook demands, tugging on Namjoon's sleeve. "What did she mean?"
Namjoon rolls his eyes and covers Jungkook's mouth with his hand. Jungkook licks his palm, but Namjoon doesn't even react. Instead, he says something to Lily, who looks serious and nods, and then waves her hand in the air. Jungkook sighs and waits. He can pick out words—magic, and wish, and good—but he can't put them together into a clear sentence.
Finally, Namjoon thanks Lily and turns his gaze on Jungkook; his eyes are intense, and Jungkook can feel his cheeks heat under the cover of Namjoon's hand. "She says she's a little bit magic," Namjoon says, "which I wouldn't believe, probably, except that she says her main thing is making wishes come true. What exactly did you wish for, Jungkook-ah?"
Jungkook looks at Namjoon as guilelessly as he can, and Namjoon takes his hand off his mouth. "You know what I wished for, hyung," he says.
Jungkook knows, too. He can hear the echo of the wish in his head, and he remembers, now, the exact moment he made it when it counted. They were wrapping up for the day, tired and sweaty and worn out, leaning half on each other's shoulders as they piled into the car, and Jungkook thought, I wish I could have all of them. He thought it a hundred times a day, a steady baseline running under everything else he did and thought, as constant as it was unconscious: everything he wanted.
"I guess I do," Namjoon says, and squeezes Jungkook's hand under the table.
"Tell her it was nice," Jungkook says. "Tell her it was the best wish I ever made."
Lily is already smiling, though, so she must have understood. "Thank you," Jungkook says, without waiting for Namjoon to translate, and goes around the table to hug her.
Afterwards, Namjoon and Jungkook watch her walk away. "We can't ever tell Tae," Namjoon says, after a moment.
"No way," Jungkook agrees.
"And I feel like she should have asked before casting a spell on you," Namjoon adds, wrapping his arm around Jungkook's waist and pulling him in for a sideways hug, possessive and protective all at once. Every muscle in Jungkook's body aches, and he lets himself lean on Namjoon for a minute before they have to go back to work.
"Luckily," Jungkook says, "I make the best wishes."