In her dorm room, Nejire hums her favorite pop song. She snaps the garters cinched tightly around her fleshy thighs in time with the beat inside her head. On her bed sitting side by side, Mirio and Tamaki watch her with varying levels of apprehension and glee. She rocks on her heels, beaming at her classmates as she gets to the chorus and her mini performance grows more animated.
“Your bra is really cute,” Mirio chirps, completely unphased by the situation. “Is it new, Nejire? I really like the lavender lace trim.”
“It is!” She giggles. “Thanks for noticing!”
She halts her rendition of the tune to show off the garment. Nejire cycles through various poses and puffs up her chest. It’s positively ridiculous. She pushes her breasts up and together, sticks out her tongue and cocks her hip. Tamaki can’t help but think this is how she acts alone when she gets ready in the morning, when she’s in a dressing room trying on new clothes. Mirio nods his approval and flashes her a thumbs up while Tamaki turns a flustered pink and smiles what he hopes isn’t in an awkward way.
It totally is.
“So, um,” Tamaki attempts to divert his friends’ attention from whatever it is that’s happening. “What’s the, y’know, well, p-plan tonight?”
With the grace of a dancer and the enthusiasm of a sugared-up toddler, Nejire swings her left leg up high and points her toes directly at Tamaki’s now-pale face.
“I dunno!” She singsongs before dropping her foot back to the earth. “Haven’t decided yet, sweetie!”
Tamaki turns to Mirio for help, praying he’s at least an iota more focused than their classmate is. But, that’s a lost cause. Mirio already is eying the curve of Nejire’s thighs, drinking in the almost translucent silk of her skin-tone, hipster panties and the soft patch of hair visible beneath the fabric.
The little bump in Mirio’s crotch shows Tamaki exactly where his friend’s brain is.
And, to be honest, Tamaki’s is there, too. That’s why they’re in Nejire’s room. That’s why they’ve been coming to her room since the start of their third year. But, they can’t exactly get to any of that if Nejire’s so unfocused.
When this started all those months ago, Nejire puffed her cheeks and declared, in the middle of their common room no less, that she’d make the rules. That she was the only girl in this specific arrangement so she deserved a little more say. Their other classmates had no idea what they were so loudly discussing, but it didn’t stop Tamaki from ushering the two most obnoxious members of The Big Three into his bedroom to continue on in private. To negotiate and formulate and set boundaries.
Both boys had been fine with Nejire’s caveat. Especially because her boundaries were pretty flexible and her willingness as vast as the summery oceans of her eyes. Anything that caught her interest was game. I just want to feel good and be adored, she said with a flourish of her finger.
Their list of experimentation since then is nothing to laugh at.
If it was simply up to the boys, this whole arrangement wouldn’t be too thrilling. Tamaki had learned a few things about his best friend he’d never wanted or planned to consider. Mirio, turns out, is a man of simple pleasures. Hot-blooded and determined are the best descriptors that come to Tamaki’s mind. If it was Mirio’s call, Tamaki would bet the rest of his Lunch Rush meals that the two of them would take their turns fucking Nejire until they were satisfied. Missionary, to boot.
He’d never admit it because it’s beyond humiliating, but Tamaki is thankful for Nejire’s creative, performative flair. For her whims, for her talent at sticking fingers where Tamaki had been too nervous to.
Tamaki almost jumps out of his skin with Nejire’s sudden exclamation. Somehow, she materializes before him, her smile stretched wide from one rosy cheek to the other. She snaps the waistband of her panties and he can only imagine what she’s going to say.
“Tamaki!” His throat goes dry as she bumps their noses together. “Lie back, please!”
She claps her hands together, glossy bottom lip sticking out, “Pretty please?”
Mirio leans in closer to them, almost like he’s jealous their sharing the same air and wants to get in on the action. Maybe he is. “Are you going to ride him?!”
She brings a finger to her lips and shushes Mirio. “Don’t give him any ideas! It’s a secret!”
Something hot prickles in the base of Tamaki’s spine. “Y-You are?”
“Not quite, sweetie.”
He swears he isn’t shaking as he lowers himself gingerly onto his back. Nejire shakes her head in disapproval. She picks up his hips, scooting him—or rather tossing him—further into the center of the bed with his socked feet on the robin’s egg blue duvet. Mirio laughs at the whine that slips out as he’s manhandled.
What an unsupportive friend.
Meanwhile, Nejire straddles his chest. From above him, she’s beautiful. The flare of her milky hips, the soft rolls on her tummy as she lurches forward, the baby powder scent of her deoderant—she’s nothing short of delicious. For someone so strong in combat, her palms are like dough, supple as they trace the veins of his neck. They unknot his tie and work the first few buttons of his shirt loose. She resumes the same song she’d been humming moments ago, tongue sticking out in concentration.
“It’s gonna be fun,” she chimes. “I promise.”
At that, he can’t help but calm. He has a lot of feelings towards his friend, but trust is the highest on that list.
“Okay,” he says and cracks the tiniest smile. He has no reason not to believe her.
And then his chill melts away when Mirio starts working on his fly. Tamaki’s knees bend up defensively.
“Tamaki, dude, don’t worry!” Mirio rubs his thighs through his pep talk. He only sounds the slightest bit sorry. “I’m just making you comfortable. The tent you’re pitching can house a small family. Probably a couple of aunties could get in there, too. It’s huge.”
Tamaki covers his face. “Mirio, please.”
A tsking sound comes from the blond as he works Tamaki’s underwear down and off him to free his dick. He can’t see it, but from the way he feels it spring out, Mirio isn’t kidding. When did he get so hard? “I’m being a good friend to you, Tamaki. Giving a buddy some relief.”
“Sweetie, don’t be nervous!” Nejire consoles him the same way she does every time they get horizontal—with a kiss on the nose and a loving squeeze to both shoulders. It’s simultaneously airy and grounded, a remedy for his erratic heart and anxious disposition. She smooths his fringe out of his eyes and winks down to him. He can’t help but laugh a little at the silliness of it all.
Then, Nejire raises herself up on her knees and pulls down her sorry excuse for panties. It’s hard not to be transfixed as she then wiggles out of them, shuffling her thighs until she tosses them back to their third waiting at the foot of the bed. She tucks a long strand of hair behind her ear and traces along the swirls of dark hair on her mound. Tamaki can’t stop staring. When her fingers travels down and through her folds, a wet squelch whispers through the bedroom.
Oh God, she’s so wet.
“It’s a good thing we had dinner earlier,” she chirps as she crawls closer to Tamaki’s head. “Because now it’s time for dessert~”
Mirio laughs. “That’s so cheesy!”
Tamaki doesn’t get a word in edgewise before she lowers herself onto his face. He’s pretty sure he hears Mirio mutter lucky bastard under his breath, but he isn’t certain. Knowing him, Tamaki would believe it.
Nejire purrs as she flushes her cunt into his mouth and nose. “Taste it, Tamaki,” she urges, combing her fingers through his hair. How can he not do just that? Tentatively, his tongue pokes out to prod at her folds. She’s ticklish and wiggles as he explores, scolding him to have a firmer approach. He listens. Immediately, he feels her hair caress his hips as she tips her head back and sighs.
“Like that,” she hums like a spring breeze. “Nice and slow at first, sweetie.”
He knows she’s not hamming it up. Nejire’s sensitive from head to toe. The slightest bit of pressure in the right spot has her bowed back and moaning, shivering from the sensations. She’s certainly a handful, but she’s supportive and kind and deserves every bit of pleasure he can provide. Tamaki squeezes her outer thighs as he drags the flat of his tongue along her slit. She tastes so damn good.
Nejire whimpers through her bitten, bottom lip.
Down at his feet, Mirio’s antsy. The bed creaks under his shifting, impatient weight. It’s not long until Mirio, ever resourceful Mirio does something to ease his boredom. A thick, powerful and dry grip encircles Tamaki’s cock. It’s a perfect pressure, snug in the ridges of his curled, warm palm. Tamaki moans into Nejire’s soaked cunt and lifts his hips into the touch. Mirio laughs. It sounds distant and foggy through the haze of heat washing over him, but Tamaki doesn’t mind. Doesn’t mind at all when soft lips chastely kiss the dribbly tip of his achey cock before hollowing his cheeks to suck him inside.
Slow and easy is over, he decides. Tamaki finds her clit and flicks it with his tongue. It stiffens under the attention and Nejire moans, her hands drifting along her body. She drags over Tamaki’s hands on her thighs, up her toned obliques, to the curve of her chest and biceps, traveling all the way to her back. She’s just touching herself, enjoying herself as she’s being enjoyed. She unhooks the clasp on her bra and drops it into the mussed pool of sheets. There’s sweat shining between each breast.
Mirio works him down centimeter by centimeter. Tongue swirling along the underside, he braces Tamaki’s hips down with one powerful hand as he takes him deeper, bobbing lower and lower each time. Tamaki pants through his nose, but even then, it’s hard getting enough air with Nejire’s crotch on him like that. His tongue laps rhythmically against her, his palms brushing back to grab at her thick ass. She likes that, especially when he’s rough with her. She rolls into it, her mound bumping into his nose as she presses deeper into Tamaki’s open mouth. Her slick is all over his cheeks and neck but he doesn’t care. He swallows everything she gives and more.
“Mmm, I love it,” Nejire gropes her tits, rolling her nipples in rough circles. “You’re treating me like a princess, Tamaki~”
“Mmph,” Mirio agrees.
Tamaki spread his own legs wider, scooching up on his heels as Mirio shoves them apart. He drags patterns along his hipbones as he works his throat around his cock, building up a rhythm that’s positively ruthless. He wonders if Mirio can feel the anxious jolt of his pulse in his shaft, the urgency in the gentle thrusting of his hips, searching for more heat, tighter heat that he feels he doesn’t deserve. He groans when Mirio swallows hotly around him, giving him that pleasure, and the resulting vibrations make Nejire groan.
They’re connected like this. They always are with school, with their reputation, their friendship, but this way is baser. It is as natural as the sun, the moon, and air mingling together in the atmosphere—a gentle, cyclical tease that never stagnates. One of them pushes and it ripples out. They mold along with each other, growing and evolving within each other’s orbit.
Tamaki hooks his legs around Mirio’s legs and yanks him closer. Shows the blond he wants him closer. He reaches up and plants soft kisses on the dampness of Nejire’s thighs in the meanwhile, over the sticky mess on her hip crease before he drifts over and wraps softly around her clit to suck.
He doesn’t want to be anywhere but here.
Nejire quivers against the suction, rutting into his chin, knocking into his nose. His fingers dig into the jiggle of her butt and pulls her down. Keeps her there as he works her with his mouth until his jaw aches and his lungs burn. She’s panting, crying out as she builds closer and closer. Her hair sticks to her perspiration-heavy forehead as she wraps her arms around herself in a tight hug, shuddering, making embarrassing little noises she doesn’t think twice about. “Tamaki, oh. Please. Just that—please.”
The heat around his dick pulls off for a moment. He hears Mirio’s raw voice rasp out, “If you’re making her cry like that, you definitely deserve a reward, yeah?”
Tamaki wants to hide. Wants to scream yes. Wants to ask and deny and give and take. But his mouth is full of shuddery pussy and his oxygen’s low, and all he can do is grunt, twitch his thighs. Show Mirio he’s ready. He’s deserving. He’s unafraid.
And then the heat’s back. But’s it’s deeper and hotter and oh that’s a gag reflex, that’s Mirio choking on his cock. Mirio fucks him into his throat, keeping low, gripping his thighs enough to hurt to keep Tamaki still against the mattress. It’s aggressive and powerful and Tamaki wants to cry it’s so good.
Nejire humps his face faster. She’s close, so close. He can feel the contractions in her guts, the flutter of her insides around his tongue. It sounds like his name she’s hiccuping as she holds herself tighter, yelling loud enough her neighbors can hear. At that moment, he needs them to hear her. Know exactly who makes that bubbly, silly girl scream.
Mirio holds his head down low, lips brushing the base of Tamaki’s pelvis, shaking with the effort, throat releasing involuntary sounds. Quivering pleasure racks up Tamaki’s spine, and he’s there—on that precipice, strung-out and needy and breathless as he does what Mirio’s been angling for. Tamaki shoots down his throat and moans, eyes shut and body taut as he releases in spurts down his spluttering friend’s throat until he pulls off. Tamaki feels some of his spunk drip onto his thighs and for some reason, he thinks it’s so hot. Thinks about Mirio leaning down to lap it up.
And when he feels a dog drag against his skin, he almost passes out from filthy happiness.
Nejire finishes a few moments later, biting her own shoulder as she convulses against him. The bed creaks as she pitches forward, dumping her weight into her hands as she curves her hips away, too sensitive and raw from stimulation. Her moans sound so pretty, so feminine, so satisfied. He wants to listen to her but he also wants to breathe: he’s desperate for air and he gulps it down like he’s dying because he is. Tamaki pants in his afterglow, leaning up to leave exhausted, sated kisses into Nejire’s tummy.
They’re quiet as they all catch their breath. Nejire usually is the one to speak first. Except, today, Tamaki does. “Mirio, you came, right...?”
Mirio’s laughter sounds so wrecked. Tamaki feels guilty for how his dick twinges in interest at the sound. “I want to know who doesn’t need to touch themselves while looking at you two go at it like that.”
Apparently, Tamaki’s reservations already seeped back into his bones. He’s grateful Nejire’s covering his face so he has somewhere to hide.
“We looked that good?” Nejire’s breathless as she flips her hair to gaze over her shoulder at Mirio, still on her hands and knees. Her periwinkle hair tickles Tamaki’s face, and he wrinkles his nose.
“Your butt was out of this world, Nejire,” he compliments. “Still is, too. The view you’re giving me is incredible.”
“Aww, thank you!”
“And Tamaki, when you lose yourself like that, it’s so—”
“Change the subject!” Tamaki begs.
Nejire picks herself up then to rest back on her haunches. For the second time that night, she smiles down at him. Cupping his cheek, she says so softly, “We only say it because we love you.”
“Yeah!” And finally, Mirio comes into view, jumping himself into the middle of the bed to join the other two. “You gotta know that by now.”
Of course he does. How could he not? With everything they’ve been through and everything they still have yet to experience. Even with his sticky face, sweaty skin and nervous ticks, these people still remain by his side. Still love him. Treat him as if he’s something special, something to believe in.
“I know,” he eventually whispers back, peeking out behind his hands at the grinning faces above him. “I know.”